#it was nice to revisit this game after a week - thanks for giving me the excuse to get rambly!

[goforth-ladymidnight]

❌⏳🏆

From this ask game:

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

I haven't been reading or writing fanfiction long enough to know what makes a trope a trope, so I did a quick search. I'm like one of those people on dating sites who says "Oh, yeah, I'm up for anything!" when it comes to kinks or other activities... until I realize that "anything" is much broader than I could have imagined. Hahaha... I'm actually rather vanilla, as it turns out. A quick perusal on the Fanfiction subreddit showed me that anything under the Omegaverse umbrella is not something I would ever write. No offense to those who love it, it is just not my thing.

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

Longer than I would like. I don't know how some people can be so prolific!! I'm getting better at writing shorter fics for practice, which helps. I started writing seriously back in 2020, and my very first project was so ambitious, I burned out without ever finishing it. I will revisit it one day, but I've learned a lot since then. Fanfiction has helped a lot in that regard.

My current longfic averages 6-10 page chapters. On a good day, I can write about 2 pages, which is about 1k words in my word processor, and that's the polished and ready-to-go kind of work. If I have an amazing idea for a one-shot and no respect for my sleep schedule, I can write 6-12 pages in a DAY, but those words tend to be pretty raw, and I'll spend the next day polishing them up and cursing myself for going to bed so late. If all goes well, I can have a new chapter ready to go inside of a week, but that's only if I know exactly where the story is going. More often than not, I don't.

Short answer: a week. Give or take.

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

ACOFAE!! I was shocked to learn how many people actually shipped Feyre and Lucien. I have since written Elucien fics that have gotten some nice attention (especially right after publishing), but my little rarepair first-ever longfic is continually and consistently pulling in views. It's nice. :)

Thanks for asking! This was fun. :)

[bruisedconscience-reblogs]

56/100 Days of Code

Log 1

Intermediate CCS Concepts... I want to get through so many of these today you guys have no idea! We'll see how far I get. Maybe I can spend $5 on Dark Souls on the Switch if I do them all.. (I already got a toy today but like.. hey... And also that Nitro Deck pre-order after Pay Day would be...a NICE treat...)

Log 2

I finished those all! Having a break before moving onto More CSS Properties. 30% Finished with Intermediate HTML and CSS!

Log 3

CSS Diner is giving me flashbacks to learning this stuff 10+ years ago in school. But I think the game has been well updated since then!!

Edit: I feel like their game is broken or else not accepting my :nth-child (and the like) arguments... I am going to press forward and try to get a better understanding with my own projects. There are no hints in that game, though there are explanations! I am too stuck on it. Maybe if I return to it tomorrow, I will be able to knock it out. :-)

But I am being honest and not marking the lesson Completed! I am simply moving on, for now. Maybe after dinner I will feel better!

Log 4

I did not revisit CSS Diner yet (still incomplete) but I did get up to the assignments for Custom Properties. I'm going to relax for the night now and watch a movie before bed. My workplace will have me waking up 2+ hours earlier from now on, in the coming week, so I need to prepare for that by going to sleep earlier now. (This is part of the reason why my blog has been on Hiatus and these posts are being Queued!)

Thanks for reading!

[chiropteracupola]

Is it too late to ask about wips? (Yes, yes, I'm greedy, I know!)

harold they're wet

cold cold take two

uh oh lads it's alan breck again

alan just happens so much

it's never too late to ask me about my wips!

'harold they're wet' is one of those ones that acquired a nonsensical just-to-divide-the-document title that has really nothing to do with the contents of the fic in the slightest, but I've kept the name around because of the silliness. and silliness is what's in what I've actually written as well so far, because it's just little scraps and bits of describing the weather and Keith and Ewen's reactions to it.

'cold cold cold' is sort of a rewrite of my previous Graçay fic, which I'm no longer entirely satisfied with. while there's a lot that I did there that I liked, I have some other angles that I'd like to get at and a rather darker take on Hornblower's mental state at that time that I've been sort of rotating gently around.

'uh oh lads it's alan breck again' - another semi-rewrite of a previous fic! my first fic for Alan and David was kind of a rushed job, and almost as soon as I'd finished it, I wanted to approach the same missing scene from a more in-depth viewpoint. so this is going to fill in the space where the book leaves off and that begins, and perhaps, depending on how things go, write over my previous attempt with a different take on their reconciliation.  also I think it does comes across that I was writing while sick, stressed, and awake at 4am in the first iteration, so I’m hoping to improve on that a little.

'alan just happens so much' is possibly my favorite of my fics for Kidnapped so far, despite the fact that I have very little idea of where it's going to go in the slightest. since we see a lot of David getting hurt and Alan having to help him through it in the book, I thought it might be fun to reverse that relationship for once and see how Alan reacts to receiving a more physical consequence for his constant brushes with danger!

(rather short, sadly, as none of these are all that realized at the moment) tasting platter of snippets under the readmore:

harold they're wet:

The air tasted of summer, the leftover smell of warm wet soil rising from the ground as it always did after a rain. A wind of delicate but slowly increasing intensity tickled at Ewen’s arms and tossed the ends of his still-wet hair, carrying with it the faint tang of river-water. By the gathering blue clouds in the distance, there would be thunderstorms in a matter of hours, but for the moment, the day was bright and glorious.

Bright it remained despite the first scattering of rain, the movement of the air almost tangible all around him. The sun-shower that had come up was warm enough that he felt the need to enjoy it as long as it lasted, relishing the feeling of the rain against his shoulders.

cold cold cold:

That was William Bush as he had always been — soft blue eyes and a too-loyal heart and a warm, hard hand reaching out to him. But he took that hand, that sturdy lifeline, and held it between his own as if it was the last thing holding him in the living world.

In that seemingly-interminable carriage journey, he had come to know Bush’s hands better than ever he had hoped in years of watching them at their work. Though the familiar tan had faded in those sunless weeks, they were still half callus and half scar, made worn by their capability and made capable by that same wear. Hornblower’s own hands were knobbly and ungainly, even more so in such direct comparison, but he gripped Bush’s hand as firmly as he felt was safe and allowed himself to be drawn closer.

Bush reached up and put his free hand to Hornblower’s mouth, gently brushing his thumb over the place where his lip was cut and swollen. Being forced down against the riverbed had left him considerably battered, the side of his face bruised and scraped where it had made far too familiar an acquaintance with a sharp rock, and though it did not now cause him much more than a dull and constant ache, he shied away from the touch all the same. He knew his own inadequacy as well as he knew anything at all, but to have it marked so pointedly by Bush was another sort of shame entirely; scowling, Hornblower turned his face away.

uh oh lads it's alan breck again:

At last he slipped into sleeping, for though their journeying had not weakened him as it had David, he still was greatly in need of rest. His shoulders slumped and his head dipped to rest against the side of the bed, but even so, his hand, the best help that he could yet offer, stayed firmly wrapped around that of his friend. Alan Breck was a gambling man in all things, for he borrowed and bet with his own life and others’ lives as easily as he spun cards and coins from one hand to the other. There was a flitting, frisking sort of madness that came over him oftener than otherwise, that kept him leaping, laughing, from one caper to the next. But whatever he’d made and so nearly broken with David was not something to be bargained away. Their friendship had not been forged to hold the dull shine of worn-down silver, but the bright strong gleam of tempered steel.

alan just happens so much:

“Dead!” said he, a flash of triumph shining across his face like a lightning-strike. But like the lightning it was gone within a blink, and as he tugged his sword free of his fallen opponent, Alan made a sharp sudden inward breath and fell forward. The sword-hilt slipped from his hand and clattered against the stones, and its master tumbled so that he lay nearly upon it, all in a mess of torn blue cloth and tarnished silver lace.

David rushed over to him, finding himself kneeling at his side almost at the same moment he was conscious of intending to do that very thing. Alan had fallen upon his face with his legs folded haphazardly beneath him, his feather-trimmed hat lying in the heather a few feet away. Even in falling, Alan had curled himself securely around the more major injuries, and as David put a hand on each of his shoulders and lifted him into a sitting position, he saw that his face was still all a-snarl with anger and pain.

“How are you hurt?” David asked, but as he drew back his hand, his question was answered. His palm was smeared across with blood, the same blood that was currently in the process of seeping its way through Alan’s coat-sleeve and down his arm.

Alan stared down at his hand, the fingers stilled but shining with blood, all of him eaten up by horror. Words came to him, but they were empty, a hollow shadow of their usual shine. This was not right — this should have been a victory to be crowed over, a new verse to the song of his own glory and his own strength, but it was no such thing. Instead, that strength already seemed to ebb from him and that glory was nothing but ash almost as soon as it had sprung to light.

“It’s no’ so bad as that,” he insisted, his voice unsteady.

[voiceless-terror]

#21 and #46 for kiss prompts, maybe? I can't get enough your writing tbf

kiss on a dare- a little jonmartin season one fluff <3 All in all, this is one of Tim’s better Friday nights.

It’s been ages since Jon’s hung out with them, and never with Martin along for the ride. The Archives had been off to a messy start after the Dog Incident and Jon’s subsequent panic over the state of the place. What used to be an ‘every couple of weeks’ tradition turned into an almost-never one as the newly-assembled team got buried under more and more boxes of dusty statements. He’s pretty astounded that Jon agreed to dinner and drinks- although it’s a Friday night, Jon’s been apt to stay weekends more often than not. He figured if he arranged for it at one of theirs instead of a pub, Jon would be more likely to come. He always preferred less crowded settings.

No, the real feat was getting him to come knowing Martin was invited.

Jon’s been getting...better around him, that’s true. He was perfectly fine at his birthday party, going off about emulsifiers for a solid fifteen minutes. Tim’s always been rather fond of Jon’s infodumping, and if he’s comfortable enough to do it around Martin that must be a good sign. Despite an initial freeze-out, he now thanks Martin for his tea and saves his most pointed comments for Martin’s more egregious screw-ups (and even those have less bite than usual). Still, a colleague does not a friend make, and Jon’s never been good at opening up to people he doesn’t know all that well. However, Jon just nodded at the Martin caveat, seemingly not giving it a second thought. And Martin didn’t seem all that worried either.

Whatever, Tim’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s just happy they’re all here, having a good time. It’s late and Jon’s had enough wine to keep a smile on his face. He missed that. It’s nice how easily they slot together, even with all of the upheaval and a new addition. Martin himself isn’t so shy after a drink or two, more willing to engage in banter and keep the conversation going. This is what it should be like all the time, Tim thinks. Shitty archive job or not. 

It’s when they retire to the living room, drinks in hand, that he finally notices the little grin on Sasha’s face. And Tim, knowing exactly what that means, is both a little afraid and excited. Four-drink-Sasha has always been a host unto herself.

“Why don’t,” she begins, a hiccup interrupting her as she slumps into an armchair. Tim snickers and ignores the glare this earns him. “Why don’t we play one of our old games-”

Tim raises a glass in agreement as Jon, predictably, groans. Martin looks quizzically between them. Ah yes, time for your initiation, Marto! Not that they’ve played this in about a year or so, of course, but it's always fun to revisit the good old days.

“Seriously? We’re not children-”

Tim gives Jon a playful slap on the back that sends him flying forward on the couch, spilling a bit of wine on Sasha’s rug. He hopes she doesn’t notice. “C’mon, it’ll be fun, boss! Nothing like it to break the ice, and there’s definitely some ice that needs breaking.”

Martin blinks, hand tightening on his glass. He looks nervous, like he always does when he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. Which is a shame, because he’s been so nice and open all night. Even chatting with Jon. “Sorry, what are you talking about?”

Jon rolls his eyes, giving Martin a commiserating look. “Truth or dare.”

Martin lets out a disbelieving laugh, relaxing minutely. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.” Jon’s foot reaches out to shove at Tim’s leg. “Tim loves pulling ridiculous stunts-”

“-Hey, you loved the karaoke idea-”

“You sing?”

“No.” Tim would dispute that, but the look on Jon’s face declares it a bad idea. “And Sasha likes to ask probing questions.”

Sasha preens, though the remark was certainly not meant as a compliment. “What can I say, I’m the Queen of Truth-”

Tim snorts. “Hacking and blackmail more like-”

“Anyway-” Sasha sings out as Tim dodges a pillow to the face. “Tim….truth or-”

“Dare, always dare.”

“You’re absolutely no fun,” Sasha pouts, though it doesn’t take long for her eyes to narrow in thought. There’s very little Tim won’t do, but that’s a dangerous look. “I dare you...to text…”

“Text? You can do better than that, Sash.”

“Text...Elias.” That’s more like it. 

Jon immediately scowls. “Tim, no-”

“I don’t have his number-”

“I do-”

“Sasha!”

“Jon, it’ll be fine! He’ll just say ‘oops, wrong number’ afterwards, no harm, no foul-”

Tim takes this time to snatch at Sasha’s phone, sitting precariously on the arm of her chair. She doesn’t notice, too busy gesturing at Jon empathically. He scrolls through her contact list.

“And then it’ll come down on me-”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “How is he going to connect it to you? It’s not like he knows we’re all together-”

“Done!” Tim tosses the phone back onto the couch with a little grin. Sasha blinks, looking down in confusion.

“Wait, that’s mine-”

The screech and smack on the arm at Tim’s hastily fired off ‘u up? ;)’ to Elias Bouchard were definitely deserved. He’s sure he’ll face consequences for that in the near future, but Jon and Martin’s immediate laughter had been well worth it. Shouldn’t dish it if you can’t take it, that’s Tim’s motto.

In the next round, Tim manages to get Martin to confess to his poetry-writing habit, an admission that has him turning an attractive shade of red. Jon just giggles quietly to himself as Martin reads through one of his poorer attempts at rhyme saved to the notes of his mobile. Tim watches the two of them; Martin keeps looking up at Jon throughout it all like he’s the only one in the room and god, his crush is so evident and yet Jon is oblivious, smiling at him like he’s not on the receiving end of some of the most loaded glances of all time. 

Martin gets Sasha to admit to her most recent perusal through confidential institute records, which turned out to be previous archival expenses (solely to find out what Elias would cover with their new jobs, of course). At first glance, there wasn’t much in the way of extravagant meals or supplies, but a bit more digging had her finding Gertrude’s extensive travel budget. For an old woman, she certainly was a globe-trotter.

“All I’m saying, Jon, is that we could definitely do with a trip to China-”

“Yes, I’ll be sure to ask Elias about Gertrude’s trip to China, something I certainly shouldn’t know about, and he’ll have to let us go.”

“Refill?” Martin’s on his feet, taking Jon’s wine glass in his hand and Tim watches as their fingers brush- go Martin!- and yet Jon just nods his thanks, completely oblivious to the seduction taking place before him. Tim’s given it some thought and honestly, he thinks they’d make a cute couple. An odd pair, for sure, but Jon’s so soft once you get to know him, and Martin’s one of the funniest, sweetest guys he knows. They could be good for each other.

“Well, I still think it’s worth a try.” Sasha’s eyes are starting to blink heavily - she’ll be out for the count tonight, for sure. “Anyway, it’s your turn. I dare you-”

“I didn’t even pick!” Jon says, though he doesn’t seem too put out by it. This is the Jon Martin should know, the easy-humored, smiling man sprawled out before him. He’s even taken his little sweater vest and tie off, looking more like the familiar friend from research Tim knows so well. It warms his heart.

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Dare, I suppose. Seeing as how you already have one queued up.”

“I dare you to...to...to give a little kiss to someone in this room.” She waves her glass around imperiously. “Anyone you like.”

Silence. Tim gives Sasha a warning look that she ignores. She’s well in her cups, and he supposes any sense of propriety has gone out the window along with her sobriety. He’s actually seen Jon give quite a few kisses on a particularly memorable New Years Eve, but that was a different time. He doesn’t want him to feel pressured, not when he’s just starting to open back up.

 “Jon doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to-”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, you remember-”

“It doesn’t matter- Jon, you can skip this one if you like, we can think of something else-”

“Tim, it’s alright.” Jon puts a hand on his arm to stop the argument, and there’s a strange look in his eyes that can’t be attributed to liquor. It’s mock-serious, almost playful paired with his little sly smile. He thinks for a moment that Jon’s going to lean in and kiss him but instead he gets up from the sofa in a smooth motion and walks across the room to Martin, who’s just turned around with two glasses in hand. He freezes in place as Jon gets on his very tippy toes, takes his face in both hands, and kisses him. 

Jonathan Sims. Kissing Martin Blackwood. Against a kitchen counter. Martin Blackwood, who, once he’s over his surprise, puts the drinks down behind him and kisses right the hell back, arms winding around Jon’s waist like they belong there.

What. The. Fuck.

_____

“The leg bit was a nice touch.”

“Hmm?” Jon’s in Martin’s lap, sprawled out on his couch back at his own flat, eyes closed in contentment as he leans back against the other man’s chest. Martin’s got one hand in his hair, and the other entwined with Jon’s, twirling the black ring on his finger. It’s heavenly.

“Thought you were trying to climb me.”

“Well, you usually pick me up at that point, make it easier.”

“Sorry, next time.” Kissing Jon’s always fun but kissing him out in the open, in front of their friends? Was that something they could do now? “Should we tell them we’ve been dating for two months?” 

Two whole months since that night in Document Storage when Jon had finally let his guard down. When Martin had held him in his arms. Jon was very particular about keeping up appearances, though that all seemed to have crumbled tonight. Sasha rather fashioned herself a matchmaker, and Jon didn’t do anything to dissuade the fact. It’d been nice, having their relationship to themselves, the secret of it, the obliviousness of their friends who still thought Jon only tolerated him. It’s not that he wanted to keep it that way, of course, but it was nice while they were still figuring it out. 

“If you’d like. Maybe it’s time.” Jon tilts his head back, giving Martin a fond look. “Though I know how much you enjoy playing the lovesick fool-”

“There’s something so poetic about unrequited love, yknow?”

“All the more when it’s requited, I’d say.” Martin couldn’t argue with that. He leans down to give Jon’s forehead a peck. 

“Hmm. Give it a few more weeks. Act out the honeymoon phase for a bit, it’ll be fun.”

And when Jon squeezes his hand and smiles back, Martin thinks he won’t need to do much acting at all.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31318724

[brattyfics]

family day | writer wednesday

Pairing: Ezekiel Reyes x Black!OFC [Lena] Summary: Lena comes to the clubhouse to meet the guys. Tags: Angsty Fluff, Unresolved Feelings. Word Count: 1.5k

“Come by the clubhouse this weekend. We’re having a cookout. A family day.”

Lena tutted her skepticism while Ezekiel spoke. She had only caught glimpses of the Mayans’ gatherings, parties, whatever, but nothing about them screamed family-friendly. “Pops and Angel will be there.” She wanted to giggle at him using his father and brother as bargaining chips, but his voice had gotten more desperate with each word until he was almost pleading. She pouted on the other end of the line. He wasn’t playing fair.

“And most importantly...you?” Lena teased. He smiled. She could hear it in his tone. “Yeah. I’ll be there too. You?” She let out a dramatic sigh as if he were pulling her leg, but she had already made up her mind.

Since she and Ezekiel reconnected, Lena found herself in Santo Padre every other weekend. Usually, she arrived early on Saturday mornings, and Ezekiel held her close on his pull-out bed (which was surprisingly comfy considering). When they finally awoke for the day, he took her on little adventures. It was always something sweet and exciting-- an intimate ride on the back of his bike to somewhere beautiful. They revisited the beach, this time during the day. He chased her around in the sand, tickled her from behind in the salty water. Lena was able to stop and relax, see things she would never have been able to otherwise. It was so easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle of city living. She missed the simplistic beauty of nature.

Other times, he took her places to remind her of the past. The Carnival they frequented as teenagers, to the old ice cream parlor down the street from his dad’s shop. They spent all the time they could together, and when Ezekiel was busy with club business, she spent the time with her parents, helping them out around the house with whatever she could. There wasn’t much to do, there had never been, but something about it was enjoyable. Being in Santo Padre felt like stepping into a time machine. Nothing had changed. It was psychological warfare on Ezekiel’s part, but Lena never called him out on it. So, she relented, the way she always did when it came to him. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

True to her word, Lena arrived at the Mayans clubhouse around noon, several homemade cakes in tow. Ezekiel met her outside as she was getting out of the car. “I didn’t know you still baked.” It had been a hobby of hers in high school, something inexpensive and fun to do while stuck in the house. Many things about her had changed, but some hadn’t. The thought made him smile. Maybe there was more hope for them than she thought after all.

“I told you, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

“I know, but I don’t like to show up places empty-handed. Can you take this, please? I need to get the other boxes out of the car still.” Ezekiel scooped the cardboard cake box from her. She kissed his cheek in thanks. It was out of instinct, an old habit, but he froze.

“What, I can’t kiss you now?” Yes, they had been sleeping together. Quite often, actually. And they had been going out on what most people would call dates, but they hadn’t been kissing. Not really. It would make what they were doing real. Lena avoided it as much as possible to protect herself. But the lines had started to blur, and she couldn’t distinguish the nostalgia from her real feelings. She would have to make a decision soon.

Ezekiel took advantage of her being distracted, pushing forward until her back rested against the closed car door. He sat the cake box on top of the car. “You can kiss me as much as you want. I just prefer you do it...” His lips brushed against hers. “...here.” She couldn’t think about anything when he kissed her like that. Nothing but him, the way he tasted on her tongue, what he felt like up against her. She closed her eyes tight and tried to memorize it all, kissing him with just as much desperation.

“Damn, Prospect, I know you’ve been out of the game awhile, but you should at least get the lady inside the trailer first!”

And then Angel fucking Reyes had to go and ruin it.

Ezekiel broke the kiss with a groan, giving his older brother a scalding look over his shoulder. But Angel didn’t care about things like not interrupting people or being polite, so he made his way over to them anyway, clapping his baby brother on the back. “Give her some room, bro.” He tested his luck, elbowing Ezekiel to the side. He filled the space, pulling Lena into a tight hug before his brother could retaliate.

“Are you really using me as a shield right now?” She complained, arms loosely hanging at her sides.

“Yes. Now, hug me back.” Angel would hold onto her until she did what he wanted. She knew that for a fact, so she brought her arms up to wrap around his midsection. “It’s good to see you.” He mumbled into her hair. “You too.” And she meant it, squeezing him back before letting go.

“Ooh. What’s this?” He cajoled when his eyes caught sight of the box.

“Cake.” Ezekiel answered for him dryly.

Angel snorted, rolling his eyes. “Obviously, Boy Scout. What kind is it, Lena?” She glanced over her shoulder at it, to be sure. “It’s vanilla cake with buttercream icing.”

“Vanilla? Aww, man. Where’s the chocolate? You know that’s my favorite.” EZ cut his brother’s complaining short. “You don’t like it, don’t eat it.”

“Shut up.” Two words from Angel was all it took for the two of them to start bickering. Angel grabbed for his brother’s thick neck, trying and failing to pull him into a chokehold. Ezekiel got the upper hand, and then the two of them were grappling, kicking up red dust in the process while they talked shit to each other. Lena sighed and stepped out of their way. “I see nothing’s changed.”

The sound of their scuffle gathered the attention of the other Mayans. Coco, who Lena thought she recognized as Angel’s friend, was among them. The shortest man of the group headed the bunch, kissing his teeth when he saw the fuss was just Angel and Ezekiel. Again.

“Break it up!”

Lena flinched, and she wasn’t even doing anything wrong! The brothers broke apart immediately, then sat down in the dirt, out of breath and wearing sheepish expressions. They were children. Lena refrained from the “If Marisol were here...” speech she so desperately wanted to give, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Hi, querida. You must be Lena.” The man introduced himself as Bishop, taking her hand to kiss.

“Oh, yes. Hi.” She squeaked out, suddenly shy. Ezekiel stood, grabbing hold of her waist, and took over the introductions. “Guys, Lena. Lena, this is...” He went down the line one by one, and she smiled politely and nodded along. She was flattered that they already seemed to be familiar with her. Ezekiel had to run around talking about her all day. The thought made her heart ache.

Bishop directed the guys to help her with the rest of the stuff. Tranq balanced a cake in each hand, Coco taking the bag with the cake cutters and plastic forks. Angel was pleased to learn that one of them had chocolate-flavored icing with yellow cake on the inside, just the way he liked it.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Bishop told her with a smile, patting her hand one final time. “Nice to meet you too.” She called after him while Ezekiel muttered something under his breath in a grumpy tone.

Lena got to know their guys and their families. She learned she had met Coco before, and she got to meet his teenage daughter, Letty. She was sweet in an adorable, hissing cat sort of way. Lena teased Ezekiel about Letty having a little crush on him, but he denied it. Swore Letty just appreciated him for helping her out with something. He wouldn’t elaborate on what the something was.

“I get it now.” Lena told him when they found themselves alone by the abandoned fire pit. She sat on the wooden bench next to him, halfway into his lap, a warm flannel blanket on top of them. He watched her closely. “You do?”

“Yeah. You have a place here. Community. Family. It’s nice.” They had played a card game earlier. The guys traded friendly insults across the table, but it was all out of love. She felt it.

“Mhm.” He looked down and cleared his throat. “Does that change anything? For you?” Lena considered it, drowning in the hopefulness in his hazel eyes. How could she tell him no? Say goodbye forever to those eyes?

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m not sure what I was expecting. Everyone’s so nice. Well, except Angel, but I already knew that.” Ezekiel smirked. “Yeah, he was born an ass.” He brought the cold beer bottle to his lips to sip, and then he got quiet.

“Do you think you’d like to come to another?”

Lena nodded. “Yeah, I think I would.”

Notes: Inspired by this week's prompt by @autumnleaves1991-blog. Card game is only briefly mentioned, but what can I say, I followed the muse?

@thesandbeneathmytoes​ This is for you. I’m slowly pulling it together. ❤️

General Taglist:

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes

[knoepfchen]

tulcea, 2018

a/n: the little art heist joe and nicky pull in this story actually happened, and the circumstances of the painting’s recovery are just strange enough to imagine it might have actually been them. for the purposes of this and the general story, this fic is set in 2019, immediately post-movie. a prequel of sorts to notre-dame and goussainville revisited.

After she’d seen Copley’s boards, Andy slept for three days.

On the first morning, Copley asked: “Is Andy up yet?”

He paused clearing away the table from breakfast as Nile stepped into the kitchen. She shook her head and took a slice of toast from him. They both shrugged.

On the second morning, Copley appeared in the doorway to their room.

“Should we wake her?” Nile looked up from the game she’d been playing on her phone. 36 hours was a long time to sleep.

“Is she having a nightmare?” Nicky’s voice drifted across the hallway.

Andy was still curled up on the bed in Copley’s guest bedroom. It looked like she hadn’t moved an inch since she’d gone to sleep two days before.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Nile said.

They let her sleep.

On the third morning, Nile hesitated at Andy’s bedside. It had been a hellish week by everyone’s standards, and on top of the betrayal by one of their closest friends, Andy was also recovering from a gunshot wound. Properly recovering, for the first time in so long. Did her body still know how to do that?

She found Joe and Nicky on the terrace, their hands wrapped around coffee mugs and what was left of one of Copley’s many daily newspapers on the bench between them. Nile had also wanted a coffee, but Copley had been in the kitchen, his questions inevitable.

“Andy’s still asleep,” Nile said as she sat on one of the deckchairs. She didn’t quite succeed in keeping the worry from her voice.

“It’s okay, Nile.” Nicky folded up the current affairs section he’d been reading and wordlessly offered her a sip from his coffee.

“Three days seems like a long time now, but it’s not all that much, once you’ve been alive that long,” Joe said. “You know how Andy told you to get some sleep while you can? ”

“Are you telling me Andy is just having the immortal equivalent of an afternoon nap right now?”

Nile knew she sounded sceptical. She didn’t even say what she really thought, which was that Andy wasn’t immortal anymore, and the days she could sleep away suddenly numbered.

Nicky smiled at her like he understood anyway. “We would wake her, if we had to.”

“She’s still Andy. A little reckless, but at the end of the day, the person who knows what’s best for Andy is usually… Andy,” Joe said.

“She’s still recovering. By the time she wakes up, she’ll be fine.”

And Nicky was right.

On the fourth day, Andy strolled into the kitchen like nothing had happened. With a spring in her step, Nile would have said, but that somehow didn’t feel appropriate for a 6,000-year-old.

“How are you feeling?” Copley asked her as Joe wordlessly pushed a mug into Andy’s hands.

“I'm good, thank you.” Andy lifted her shirt to reveal a bullet wound that was nearly healed. Whatever it was that made them immortal, it wasn’t fully gone from her system yet.

“That’s gonna be a nice scar, boss.” Joe smirked.

“You can start to collect them,” Nicky said. “Put your bronze trinket collection to shame.”

“They’re not trinkets.” Andy gently jostled him and turned to Copley. “What have you got for us?”

Copley cleared his throat. If he was surprised by the sudden turn of events, he knew better than to show it. Nile remembered that learning curve, at least.

“I’ve been doing some security checks on the safe houses you’ve told me about. Once I’ve procured new identity documents for all of you, I believe the best plan of action in the short-term is for you to stay in Europe.”

Andy nodded. “So, refugee crisis in the Mediterranean? Fighting populism?”

Nile held her breath. She was curious to learn what her first ‘real’ job as an immortal would be. But Copley only frowned.

“No, no, when I said you should stay in Europe, I thought that it is the best place for you to lay low while I erase recent traces of you online and establish proper security protocols at all your safe houses.”

“That’s not what I meant when I said ‘let’s get to work,’ Copley.” Andy set her mug down. “We’ve just taken a break, we’re not taking another so soon after.”

“Oh really, a break?” The timbre of Copley’s voice was slipping into sarcasm, but he had turned to Nicky and Joe. “All of you laying low for a year?”

To Nile’s surprise, Joe was looking slightly flustered.

“So the two ‘Dutch nationals’ who arrived at the Netherlands’ embassy in Romania last year to turn in a stolen Picasso, they were just two ordinary citizens who happened upon a painting, yes? They were not, say, two immortal men who’d been tracking the crime syndicate that had stolen the painting to Romania and decided to save what was left of them once the thieves started burning the others?”

Nicky’s ears were a bit redder than before, but he was still returning Copley gaze. “It was the right thing to do.”

Andy groaned. “You did Tulcea without me?”

“Sorry, boss.” Joe smiled sheepishly. “We had a lead while we were in the area, and your phone was off, so—”

“Unbelievable,” Andy muttered.

“Anyway,” Copley steered the conversation back on track. Nile would’ve preferred to hear more about the art heist. “Some of your safehouses have been breached. I will get you some new passports and once I can be reasonably certain that your closest safehouse is secure, I will give you to the go ahead to either clear out of them or establish a new security protocol there. Until you have a safe base, no more sneaky jobs, no more solo missions.”

Andy turned to Nile. Judging by her face, that was the first rule she was going to break.

But she only smiled at Copley. “Sure thing.”

[weeb-writor]

Meeting Shouta’s parents on Christmas

Hello all you beautiful people! So here is the last part in the Aizawa mini series. I fell in love with all these Characters and this head cannon so I will probably revisit them! As usually the reader is neutral in every since of the word! I hope you guys enjoyed this series. 

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

Aizawa Shouta x Reader

After a month of preparation you meet Aizawa’s Parent over the course of a week

Words: 3,098

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five

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

“Ooh my goodness what are we gonna do!?” You said pacing around your living room. Shouta looked at you and chuckled at your frazzled state.

“We get in my car and drive to my family house as planned, pretend to enjoy ourselves so we can come home and cuddle with my fat cats.” He said, pulling you into a hug. 

“You want me to show up to meet your parents without the gift I ordered for you dad? Shouta are you outta your mind.” You said to him with a pout.

“Well that's debatable but I do know my parents and they aren't even expecting anything so it's fine. You can just tell them we’ll get it to him when we get it. Now let's go!” He said trying to drag you to the car.

“Aizawa Shouta! I am not going anywhere unless it's to a store to buy your Dad a gift.” You said giving him a glare. He stared back as if to question if you were being serious. You cocked an eyebrow at him, challenging him to disagree.

“Were gonna be late to get there, do you want that?”

“Better to be late than to show empty handed especially when everyone else has gifts.” You said with a shrug. Aizawa laughed but nodded as you both went to the store. You wandered around the place for an hour before you found something you actually liked. Now you were in the car messily wrapping in as you pulled into the driveway of your destination.

“Okay goodness gracious we barely made it but we're here and I have gifts for all your siblings and their lovers and their kids! Didn't think I would pull it off but here we are in one piece.” You said mostly to yourself.

“Kitty Cat you start talking to yourself and I might leave you to enter the den of wolves by yourself.” Aizawa said as you both got out of the car. You let him take in your overnight bags and get help for the millions of presents somehow packed into your small car you didn't wait long as you felt as presence behind you.

“Hello you, perfect example of a gorgeous human being!” The voice said from behind you.

“Shinji, how nice to see you.” You said with a sigh.

“You know if you’re tired of sighing that way… I have a better way to make you sigh.” He said winking at you. You had to push back all the thoughts of murdering him and just smiled but before you could say anything another voice interjected.

“See I told you we had to come out here! Shinji stop hitting on y/n their dating our little brother you snake.” Saika said, hitting him over the head.

“Can't help it, sis!” He said with a laugh.

“Well for this week you absolutely will have better control overself or so help me God Shinji! Anyway y/n you’ve got me, Shinji and sora at your beck and call, what do you need help with?” Saika said with her graceful smile.

“Oh just this.” You said pointing to the car packed with presents. Sora seemed to choke on air at the amount of gifts.

“God, didn't Shouta tell you didn't have to buy everyone a gift, you poor thing!” Saika said hugging you.

“Well he did but I just really like you guys and loved getting to know you this past month so I wanted to.” You said waving her off.

“More like you wanted to impress our parents, huh cutie?” Shinji said teasing you before he started to grab presents as to avoid his sister wacks.

“Ignore him! My mom is dying to meet you, Shouta’s never brought anyone home.” She said as her and Sora grabbed some more presents. As they went in you pulled out the last two rounds of presents and waited for Aizawa who wasn't far behind.

“Hey love are you ready?” Aizawa said, picking up the presents you set out.

“I am totally not!! I barely remember everyone's name! We should just slip away right now!” You said beginning to pace some more.

“Babe i'm gonna go inside and wait on you, come in whenever you want but remember we are late.” He said with a light chuckle.

“Sho!! don't you go into your house without me!” You said picking up the gifts and following him like a lost puppy. That was that and soon you were inside the house with a lot of eyes on you. You followed aizawa while bowing and placed the toys underneath the huge tree.

“Alright now that that’s done let me meet the one whose stolen my baby’s heart so effortlessly!” A woman said coming over to you. You bowed deeply to her and she let out a melodious laugh.

“How cute, no need to bow so deep! I should be bowing to you, you who is able to make my stoic Shouta blush, giggle and pout!” She says grabbing your face and pulling it around as if to inspect it.

“Oh Honey, you stop it! They are just being polite, you know like Japanese culture requires them to be.” A tall man said coming over to you.

“I'm just saying! Anyway you can call me Mina and this is my parasite of 41 years Hirohito! Nice to meet you!” She said hugging you, you were a bit surprised by how informal and kind they were.

“Excuse my parents, they were born and raised in America! No less Japanese but they are a bit more informal and that does shock a lot of people.” Shojiro said scratching his neck. 

“Oh hush boy! Don’t put a warning label on me and your mom as if we are damaged goods.” Hirohito said, knocking him over the head.

“Now it’s getting later we should all wash up and get ready to eat! I made something special for you all. And Sho I put a king size bed in your room since you’ve finally brought someone home. If you want to take advantage of that and make me some grandchildren then don’t worry we will hold up dinner for you!” His mom said kissing his cheek. He groaned and grabbed your hand and pulled you away and soon you were in his room.

“See, was that so hard?” Aizawa said with a flushed face.

“Ehh you look like it was, tomato paste! But I think it went okay! I can do this!!” You said hyping yourself up.

“Yes you can, kitty cat. After dinner only 6 more days to go.”

“WHY do you guys do Christmas gatherings for a week!” You whisper yelled at him.

“Because we have a doting mother who wants to smother us every chance she gets and a father who would do anything for her.” He said serious, you laughed and got ready for dinner. When you and Aizawa made it to the dining room, you were met with three huge dining tables. Almost every seat filled.

“Sweetheart, you and y/n come sit right here! I’ve got so many things to ask you!” His mom said waving you over.

“Thank you… Mina. Your way to kind!” You said with another bow. Dinner was pretty quiet at first but how quiet can you be with like 30 people in one room.

“Saika, dear, you were in charge of the schedule this year can you read it off for everyone.” Mina said.

“Of course! So on the 20th aka tomorrow it’s all about decorations and the tree! 21st is all about taking the kids to see Santa! 22nd is Family photo day! 23 is the gingerbread houses contest and reindeer games! 24th is sugar cookie making and movies! 25th is a grand breakfast and present opening! Bring forth the cup of straws!” Saika said giggling. Sora rolled his eyes but got the cup and passed it around, everyone taking a straw. 

“Okay now blow into if red dust comes out you’re in charge of taking the kids to see Santa!” She announced and everyone did. Of fucking course red dust billowed from you straw. You looked at Shouta and he shook his head at you and your heart dropped.

“So then it’s me and you, how fortunate!” Shinji said waving at you. You couldn’t control yourself and your head dropped onto the table dramatically.

“Haha, Shinji y/n already knows what a pain in the ass you are! you must be losing your style dear! Not to worry y/n, Shinji will be on his best behavior won’t you?” Mina said as an ominous silence fell over the room. Shinji didn’t hesitate to nod.

“Okay then! Y/n, welcome to the Aizawa family. I hope you enjoy your first Christmas with us! With that let us begin the 6 days of chaos!” Mina said laughing lifting her glass, everyone joined laughing. Okay maybe this won’t be so bad you thought for a brief second.

20th - 5 Days till Christmas

“Dad I understand you like to hang lights up dangerously but do you have to drag y/n into it.” Aizawa said as he watched you nervously. You were on the roof helping his dad put up a few decorations and lights.

“Of course I did, if they’re gonna be an Aizawa one day they gotta learn all our trade secrets.” He retorted as if it was common knowledge.

“I’ve never seen my little Sho so worried. I can’t figure out if it’s because your kind and you love him so much or if you’ve got him by the balls or maybe even both.” Mina said with a slight chuckle. This made you warm in embarrassment and you lost your footing and began to fall, of course taking the old man with you.

“Shit!” Aizawa said as he quickly used his capture weapon to grab both you and stop your impact from being damaging.

“Yeah alright, me and y/n are opting out of decorations this year.” He said dragging you who was still in his captured weapon toward the door.

“Oh honey calm down it would have just been a small bump and maybe a sprain. Would you at least help Shinji and Sora with the kids, decorating the tree?” She said with a kind yet manipulative smile. Before either of you could respond yelling was heard from inside

“Damn it, Yukio stop breaking the glass ornaments and Maki stop recording and help me!” Shinji yelled. 

21st- 4 Days till Christmas 

“Shinji what the hell do we do!” You said pacing.

“Hold on stop talking I’m thinking.”

“Like hell I’m trusting your brain! We just have to ask them to let us take pictures anyway.” You said with determination. You see everything was going well until and elf said something to Haru that Jun took as bullying. A fire light in that boy like you had never seen he was on top of the elf giving him the business in seconds. After he just mumbled things like ‘Bakugou said you can’t let people bully you.’ And ‘gotta put bullies in their place.’. Then when you tried to get him to apologize he glared and said ‘no, I can’t let that bully win’ and just like that y’all were kicked out.

“No look let’s just disguise them! Tetsuya and Haru stitch clothing and Haru and Umi switch! Then Maki will take them and her pictures with them.

“What about Maki though they saw her!” You said not believing you were actually going along with his crazy plan.

“Oh I have a change of clothes, gotta be prepared when you’re going out with uncle Shinji!”  She said cheerfully.

“That’s my girl! Now go do this thing!” He said giving her and high five. Someone how Shinji’s ridiculous plan worked and the parents didn’t even notice, they were all too drunk or tired. 

22nd - 3 Days until Christmas 

“There is no way I'm taking pictures wearing this.” Sora said as he pulled the clothes from the box.

“Yeah mom, why did you make Sho pick clothes this year you know he cant even dress himself! It’s because you babied him so much, you know.” Shojiro said, looking as equally as disgusted at the clothing.

“Hey now! I put my baby in charge of the clothing and you all are gonna wear it, end of discussion. Also if anyone babied him it was all of you so blame yourself.” Mina said, ending the discussion as Shouta wore a crazed grin.

“I like the clothes Uncle sho’ta.” Nozomi said rocking on her heels.

“They are pretty cute huh?” He said ruffing her hair.

“Ah ah ah! Don't you go infecting my kids with your bad fashion sense!.” Saika said, covering Nozomi's ears. At this you all broke out into laughs before heading to put on the outfits and prepare for maybe the most embarrassing photos known to man.

23rd - 2 days till Christmas

You were not an artist by any means but when you heard the winner got the honor of passing out presents you were purposely trying to lose. You knew them apart mostly but if they were all wearing the same pajamas with their hair tied back it was going to be a stuttering mess. However your plan of making a 3 out of 10 gingerbread house was foiled quickly. Aizawa wasn't really a competitive man or so you thought but when you to were paired against Shinji and Shojiro he went berserk! You looked at the gingerbread MANSION with a sigh.

“Shouta i’ve never seen you so invested! It's amazing.” Said Shizumi the resident artist in the house.

“Yeah uncle Shouta and L/N! You definitely got my vote!” Daisuke said smiling at you, you smiled back at him warily. The family all wrote down the people of their choosing and put it into the Santa hat. Now as names were being drawn you were biting your nails.

“Shouta and Y/n will be our Clauses this year.” Hirohito said with a small smile.

“Yay y/n wins.” Haru and Jun danced around you. You giggled before glaring at Aizawa in a way that said when we get home your sleeping on the couch, he just kissed you sweetly.

24th - 1 Day till Christmas

“Uncle Shouta stopped making so many cat cookies! Santa wants other shapes too!” Tetsuya said, hitting Shouta repeatedly on his legs. You laughed evilly as you formed another cat cookie and wrote Shouta’s name on the corner.

“I like your cat cookies.” Nozomi said, playing with her hair. Aizawa picked her up and spun her around.

“Okay, yep that's weird Baby brother! Why is Nozomi clinging to you? What did you do?” Shiori said looking back and forth from you and Shouta.

“Nothing.” Shouta said with a smirk. The family then looked at you hopeful.

“Well would you look at that! It's about time to watch the Grinch isn't it, Rei?” You asked the young boy. He eagerly nodded wanting to escape the situation. 

“You got Rei too? What is happening!” Saika said as she grabbed Rei bringing him to her chest.

“Huh where is your DVD player? I got to put the disk in.” You said completely ignoring her.

25th - Christmas Day

The gift giving had been going pretty successfully. You only Stuttered a few times but you hadn't given anyone the wrong present and let Shouta take the ones with Nicknames you didn't know. But this right here was the moment of truth, the moment you had been preparing for. In your right hand you had a gift for Shizumi and in your left one for Saika. You looked at the two twin like sisters and handed the gifts to each respectful sister hoping you were right. They opened the gifts and smiled so you guessed you were correct had everyone's eyes not been on you, you would have done a happy dance.

“Alright last gift before Mom and Dads are for Miss Nozomi!” Shouta said signaling you to get the present you and him picked out for the young girl.

“Alright this is from me and Uncle Shouta!” You said to the girl handing her the blue box. She said a quiet thank you before tearing into the box. Inside the box was a note which she took out.

“Look at your favorite uncle.” She said before looking straight at Shouta making all the other brothers gasp. In Shouta’s arm was a cute 3 legged kitten which had the girl darting toward him but slowed when she got to him so as not to scare the cat.

“Thank you!” The girl said, rubbing at her teary eyes. You and Aizawa had been teaching her how to care for cats knowing she wanted one. In all honesty she knew she was getting a cat she just didn't know when. You had asked her parents as well but didn't tell then when either so as to have a bigger reaction from the family.

“No need to thank me! Just promise me to take care of him real well.” Aizawa thumbed away the last of her tears. She nodded rapidly before snuggling the kitten who seemed to enjoy the attention. The last arc of gift giving went well as did the extravagant breakfast you had all prepared together. Now you were all saying goodbye.

“Y/n dear I do have one last parting gift for you.” Mina said as you rounded the corner with your bags. You placed down your bags and went to her side.

“I know you and Shouta haven't been together too long but I want to thank you. He acts tougher than he is. He would rather bear all the responsibility and pain and suffer alone. Not to mention the way he puts himself in danger rather than ask for help. With you he seems different, and you put him in his place. You’ve made me feel at ease for the first time since he entered UA as a student. So welcome to the family, we're so glad to have you.” She said putting something into your hands. You bowed at her and opened your palm to see a key to this house and a few pictures taken over the course of the week. You waved goodbye to them all and got your bags and made the short trip to your car where Shouta was waiting.

“Why do you look like you're going to cry.” He said worried.

“Because there are 365 days till next Christmas.” You said to him smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~

MHA Masterlist

[marshmallow-phd]

Nine Little Letters

Genre: College AU, Fake Dating AU, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before AU

Inspired By: This graphic made by @rcse-tvler​

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Summary: Just when you thought life was done shoving you down, it got much, much worse. After finding out that your latest crush was already in a relationship, you did what you always did when emotions ran high: you wrote a letter. Signed and sealed, you put it away with the eight other letters you’d written to past one-sided loves, never to be seen again. That is, until a mix up accidentally sends those letters out to their respective recipients and you find yourself in the middle of one confusing web of love. With fake relationships, insecurities, and revelations swirling around, things are bound to get a little messy.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11

The second letter you ever wrote was perhaps the most embarrassing of them all.

During the summer of your thirteenth year, Baekhyun had gone away to a summer camp that had lasted for over a month. Bored to tears due to the missing antics, you spent more time with your other friend, Yeonhee, though - as much as you loved her - her presence didn’t have the same level of comfort as Baekhyun’s did. You weren’t sure what the reason was, but there always seemed to be this invisible barrier between you and Yeonhee. You couldn’t get quite as close to her. There was so much relief the day that Baekhyun came back. But something else was there, too. Something that had been growing throughout the absence.

At first, you thought your heart was beating fast because you ran to the park where Baekhyun told you to meet him. You were excited - elated - to have your best friend back. When you saw him lying on the teeter-totter, you stopped. His skin was sun-kissed, hair a bit longer and tousled. You’d never realized how… handsome he was before. Your face was smiling before you knew it.

You liked him. That had to explain why you missed him so much, right? As soon as Baekhyun saw that you’d arrived, he lit up, jumping off the playground equipment and running towards you. He pulled you into a quick hug then stepped back, ruffling your hair.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Come on.” He grabbed your hand and started pulling you away from the teeter-tatter. “Let’s go down to the creek!”

You followed him without hesitation, loving the feeling of his hand in yours. Later that night, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep because of this new information. At thirteen, you were a bit smarter than you were at ten, so you decided to put some feelers out. You would see if there was any chance that he felt the same way. The two of you were close, after all. The chance had to be there, didn’t it?

The answer was no. And you received that answer almost immediately. The next day Baekhyun went on and on about this girl he had met at camp. He talked about how funny she was and cute and playful. And beautiful. He wouldn’t stop talking about how pretty he found her. She was at a summer camp, for Pete’s sake, but somehow still managed to be soft and delicate and everything Baekhyun liked in girls. It felt like an uppercut punch to the jaw. You could be soft and delicate. You wore skirts and boots and cardigans. Your room was pastel colors! What was the difference between you and this girl he rambled on about?

Flashing back to Jongin and how much better you felt after writing him the letter, you sat down at the table while your parents were away at work and tried to see if it had the same effect.

 Dear Baekhyun,

How are you? I guess that’s an awkward thing to ask given how I always know how you are. You always tell me, whether you’re happy or sad or simply indifferent. You tell me everything. And I’ve always loved that, the fact that we could tell each other whatever we’re thinking. But lately, you’ve been telling me too much and I’ve been keeping quiet. You tell me so much about this girl you met at camp and how much you like her and what the two of you talked about on the phone last night and how you’ve made plans to meet up next week. You go on and on about her without seeing the hurt in my eyes. I stay silent because of that hurt. Because while you were away, I realized something. I realized that I like you. As more than just my best friend. I find myself wishing that you were talking about me that way. What does this girl have that I don’t, anyway? She sounds a lot like me. I even wondered at one point if you were secretly talking about me until you mentioned meeting up with her. You seem so happy, though. So, I wonder, should I say anything or should I just go on being just your friend? I guess I'll make the decision at the end of this letter. If I send it out or if I keep it hidden in my drawer. Do I come out and say it or do I risk forever thinking “What if?” Only time will really tell. Either way, I hope you’re happy. That’s most important.

Love,

(y/n)

 In the end, you decided not to mail it. Though you never met the girl from summer camp, Baekhyun ended up “dating” her for the fall semester of school - if it could be counted since they lived in different cities. He always went to see her, but she never made the same effort. That was why they broke up, according to Baekhyun. Though he never came to see you in the same light as far as you were aware, you found that you were able to move on, to see him once again simply as your friend. Perhaps the two of you were soulmates in the platonic way. You were thankful to your past self for not mailing out that letter. Where would your friendship be if you had sent it? Would there even still be a friendship?

“Okay, I know you’re not a professional or anything, but you’re even worse today. What’s going on?”

You blinked, coming out of your head just in time to watch your character crumple to the ground, dead. Great.

You weren’t the best at video games, but you found them fun and Sehun didn’t mind if you weren’t as good as him. He definitely carried the two of you in the team rounds.

“Nothing, I just have a lot on my mind.” Both the truth and a lie. You were mildly distracted at the moment. It was a small amount of connected things. Seeing Junmyeon with a girlfriend had conjured up some old insecurities. While you were fairly sure that you were over him, you were circling around your lack of love life - and lack of dating history. As in zero. Zip. A big old goose egg. Of course, when that happened, you tended to retreat into your books and movies. Which rom-coms you were going to binge tonight was currently at the forefront of your mind, held up by everything else.

“So, obviously, it’s not nothing,” Sehun pointed out over the headset. Touché.

“Okay, it’s not nothing, but it's not something you’d be interested in anyway.”

“Try me.”

You paused. “I was thinking about how I’ve never had a boyfriend, so I was going to watch romantic comedies tonight.”

Silence.

Well, not total silence since the video game was still on in the background, but there was no response from your partner. “Sehun?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m not that interested. But I also don’t see how watching movies about romance is a direct response to not having a boyfriend.”

You sighed as your character re-spawned and you continued with the game, covering Sehun from any surprise attacks as you inched closer to enemy territory. “They make me feel better.”

He took a pause to kill an enemy soldier before replying, “I still don’t get it. How can watching fake couples get together make you feel better? If you want a boyfriend, why don’t you go out and get one? It’s not like there isn’t a whole campus full of single guys.”

You scoffed. Yeah, right. Like it was that simple. There wasn’t a store or a catalogue that you could flip through and go “Oh, I’d like that one!” and have a boyfriend ready and raring to go. Although… someone should get on that revolutionary idea. It could be worth millions.

Part of you wanted to respond with “Fine, do you want to date me?” but you bit your tongue, knowing that you didn’t mean it. There had once been a time that you had thought about Sehun in that way. The two of you rarely saw each other in person. For a good year and a half, the two of you had been simple online buddies until you realized you lived in the same city. You’d invited Sehun along to outings with Baekhyun and Yeonhee, but they didn’t click very well, so it didn’t happen too often. After the first time you met Sehun, you thought he was cute. Que the letter.

 Dear Sehun.

I know you try to hide it, but you’re actually very sweet. And I know that you let me win sometimes. And you help me every chance you get. I like you because of that. Also, I never thought you would be cute. Is that bad? Do you think you could like me back? We could be that gamer couple. Those who play together, stay together, right?

Love,

(y/n).

 It was the cringiest of all your letters. Short, uninteresting, bland. After you wrote it, you realized quickly that those were the only reasons you liked him: his face and he was nice to you. Were your standards really that low? His letter always stayed at the bottom of the pile, hardly ever revisited. That was when you realized it was hard to truly like someone you didn’t know all that well. You still considered him a friend and could confide in him, but he didn’t make your comfortable triangle a square.

“Hey, (y/n)!” Baekhyun burst into your room with no warning. You jumped, letting out a rare curse into the headset.

“Baekhyun, what are you doing here?” On Saturdays he was usually busy giving piano lessons.

“And on that note, I’m out.” Sehun clicked off without a real goodbye. You shook your head. Boys.

You turned off your console and swiveled around in your chair. Baekhyun was seated at your vanity which made you nervous. He knew better than to go peeking into your things, but that hardly stopped him. And while he was aware of the letters’ existence, he was neither aware of his own nor where they were located.

“My pupil for the day canceled on me. They’re sick. I was bored so I came over. As per usual.” Looking over his shoulder at your mirror, he plucked off one of the pictures you had wedged into the frame. “Heard from your long-distance boyfriend lately?”

“Hardy, har-har.” You snatched the picture from him and replaced it. “He’s not my boyfriend and you know it.”

Zhang Yixing was your pen pal from high school. After seeing a flyer on one of the bulletin boards in the hallway, you jumped at the chance to communicate with someone from another country without really thinking about it. The partners were all chosen at random and you considered yourself quite lucky. The person you exchanged letters with was sweet and funny and really read what you wrote to him, always replying to your words before going into his own story. While life got in the way and the two of you weren’t able to exchange letters at the frequency you once had, you still received a surprise every so often.

And yes, before anyone asks, he was one of the nine. One look at his dimpled smile and charming eyes and anyone would be hooked. You’d giggled like crazy when you opened the letter junior year and his photo fell out. He’d wanted to show you the countryside school he’d volunteered at and the kids he’d helped. As cute as those children were, he was all you could look at. So, naturally, there was one letter you never sent. It didn’t make sense to send it. He was in an entirely different country. So, you used his letter as camouflage, keeping it on top at all times to hide the others underneath.

“And no, by the way. I haven’t gotten a letter for a little bit.”

“Too busy volunteering?” Baekhyun quipped.

“You could take a page out of his book, you know.”

“I do give back! I give free lessons all the time!”

Okay… that was true. Baekhyun did have a soft heart for kids that wanted to learn to play the piano but whose parents couldn't afford to pay for lessons. About twice a month on Sundays, he went to a local church and taught a class for anyone who wanted to join. It was actually kind of sweet. You’d gone a few times and he could be pretty adorable with the kids.

“Alright,” you said. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” Baekhyun pursed his lips and tapped a finger against his chin. His eyes slowly made their way around your room. He would smile when his eyes landed on pictures of the two of you or little souvenirs from your various adventures. Your room was like a scrapbook for the world to view. You enjoyed being surrounded by memories, like reading a book based on your life. “I’m kind of hungry.”

“Okay,” you laughed. “For what?”

He turned away from you, mostly still listening, but obviously distracted by something. “Let’s go to a grill.”

That suggestion sent sparks off in your brain. Your stomach, which had been neutral up until now, was roaring for the sizzling meat and spicy side dishes. In fact, you’d been distracted at the thought of a Korean grill that you didn’t notice Baekhyun’s hand twitching on the forbidden drawer. Before your brain could process what he was doing, the drawer was open. Baekhyun pulled the entire stack of letters out.

“Wow, you actually do keep all of these!”

“What the hell are you doing!” You bounced on him, tackling him down to the floor as you wrestled the envelopes from him. Once you finally pulled them free, you smacked his arm with the stack. “You jerk! You know those are private!”

He actually had the audacity to pout. “I just wanted to see!”

“They’re not for you to see!”

“Come on, (y/n),” Baekhyun sat up when you moved off him. You kept the envelopes close to your chest in case he tried for them again. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“Don’t you dare try to guilt trip me,” you snapped. “I have a right to my privacy. These aren’t meant for anyone else but me.”

“Fine.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “But you might want to find a better hiding spot. Let’s go eat.” He left your room, smiling to himself.

Grumbling to yourself, you placed the envelopes on your vanity. Later, you would find a better place to put them. For now, though, you draped a shirt over the stack so they were mostly covered.

You forgot about the letters for the most part by the time the two of you made it to the restaurant. Baekhyun had his moments where he didn’t think things through or he acted purely on impulse, but you could forgive those happenings. At least, when he was paying for dinner. On the way to the grill, you called Yeonhee to join.

“So, there’s this girl in my World Music three-oh-four class,” Baekhyun said right after shoving a stuffed sesame leaf into his mouth. “She’s really cute. And plays the cello. Her fingers are so nimble and small.”

“So, you going to ask her out?” you teased.

Baekhyun took some time to chew his food before answering. “Yeah. Actually, I think I might.”

“Does she seem interested in you?” Yeonhee asked. She was always the more practical one out of the three of you. She saw things in black and white. She either chose door number one or door number two. It was a philosophy she used in every aspect of her life. That realism rounded your little triangle out. Baekhyun was the carefree, never-knew-what-he-was-going-to-do-next type, you were the slightly anxiety-ridden, romantic daydreamer, and Yeonhee was the down-to-earth, rational one.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay. Then do it.” Yeonhee pulled her long, dark brown hair back into a scrunchy to keep it out of her face. To her, that was the end of it.

Baekhyun sent you a look, but he shrugged. “Alright. I’ll see her on Monday, so I’ll ask her to coffee then.”

Your phone vibrated against the table. Normally you would have ignored it, but given the lull in conversation, you checked to see the notification. It was a text from your mom.

I’m doing laundry. It looks like you have a full hamper. Do you want me to take some?

You smiled. You loved getting out of laundry. Yeah! Thank you!

Okay! A second text came through. Do you want me to take this shirt on the vanity, too?

Shirt? What- Panic swept through you. No! That’s okay! It’s clean.

Okay! Love you!

Love you, too!

Phew. That was close.

The rest of dinner was spent talking about classes and professors and new movies coming out. The three of you bounced from subject to subject, spending a good hour and half at the table slowly devouring the different meat courses. Multiple groups came and went while you sat there and enjoyed this time with your two best friends. When it was time to go home, Yeonhee volunteered to take you home since it was more on her way than Baekhyun’s. Once there, she parked in your driveway. Rounding the car, you bent down to tell her goodnight. A second or two later, Kyungsoo pulled into his parents’ driveway. He got out of his own car, eyes down on his phone. Noticing the two of you next door, he froze. There was an awkward tension as the exes made eye contact while you stood there like an unneeded third wheel on a bike. Finally, Kyungsoo broke the contact and went inside.

“Have you talked to him lately?” you asked.

Yeonhee shook her head. “Not at all. What’s the point? I ended it. Going back and opening the wound makes no sense.”

“Yeah, that’s understandable. I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

You straightened up and headed inside.

Yeonhee and Kyungsoo were a tragic story, at least in your eyes.

Kyungsoo was your next-door neighbor for your entire life though the two of you didn’t interact very often. He ran in different circles and seemed annoyed by Baekhyun most of the time - a pattern you were not blind to. But Yeonhee always took the time to talk to him if you happened to be in the front yard and crossed paths. Oblivious to what was going on while they conversed, you stood by, studying your neighbor.

He was handsome and sweet when he wasn’t frowning. In fact, his smile was quite stunning. And he was smart and, though rare, cracked jokes that had you in stitches. You found yourself admiring him. Imagine your shock when you discovered that he was dating one of your best friends. You were devastated. The strength of the feeling took you by surprise. But you’d managed to keep it together in front of both of them. Only when you were alone were you finally able to let it out. That night you’d locked yourself in your room, tears flowing in an unending stream. At some point, you were sitting down at your vanity, pencil flying across the page without you having to think it through.

 Dear Kyungsoo,

What am I even feeling right now? How am I feeling like this? You were always just my neighbor, the boy next door. Occasionally kind, helpful. I never even suspected that you liked Yeonhee or that she liked you back. I was completely left out, blind to what was happening in front of me. Mostly because I couldn’t see past myself. You were nothing like how I’d thought in our younger years. You are so much more. Amazing feels like too simple a word but that’s all I can conjure up. I’ve been so in awe that I couldn't completely understand what it was that I was feeling inside. But now… I feel like my heart has shattered. I had come to look forward to talking to you in between our yards. I never suspected you were coming out for Yeonhee. You chose her over me. I’m sure in your eyes, I was never even one of the selections. But why? Am I really that invisible?

You are a wonderful person. I’m not sure if there are enough adjectives in the world to describe how I see you. You’re like a portrait in the Louvre, unable for me to touch. You’re out of reach. And now that you’re with Yeonhee, you always will be. I know that you’ll treat her well. You’ll keep her hand warm with your own like I wish you could with mine. When she’s tired, she’ll rest her head on your shoulder. I hope you’re a comforting pillow. You seem like that kind of person. A comfort, a stronghold. I wish you could have been mine.

Love,

(y/n).

 They dated for two years before Yeonhee inexplicably ended the relationship. You knew she would have a very logical, analyzed reasoning for why she abruptly broke it off, though she never told you or anyone. However, you were surprised with how angry you were at her. How could she do that to someone like Kyungsoo, who had never treated her badly even for a moment? Your sympathy lied with him, but you had to show support for your friend. She wanted to move on, so you pretended to understand. She didn’t come around very often anymore in case of situations like tonight where she might accidentally run into or see him.

Up in your bedroom, you took a deep breath. Because it still hurt after all this time. You still longed to be the one he looked at, the one he wanted to see. Out of all your letters, his was the one that never worked. His was sealed up tight, but the feelings didn’t go away. They held on tight like a rock climber without a rope. You could distract yourself with other crushes, give in to fleeting feelings for others. And it would work for a little while. But in your weak moments, those feelings never failed to come back. Tonight was a reminder of that.

[honey-dewey]

Take me Home, Country Roads

A Writer Wednesday Story

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/GN! Reader

Word Count: 2,313

Warnings: Mentions of Jack’s late wife, but this is entirely fluff

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

You and Jack had never had an easy relationship, but it all seems to be coming together now. Especially after you and him decided to have a kid via surrogate. The only issue? Your daughter is nine hours away. I guess this calls for a road trip. 

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog. 

“Baby,” Jack shook your shoulder, making you groan and roll over in bed. “Baby.” 

“What?” You said slowly, sufficiently cranky after having been woken up before the sun rose. The clock over Jack’s shoulder read 2:37, and you really wanted to hit him. Why the hell were you awake?

Jack kissed you, and you had half a mind to bite him for waking you up so damn early. “Daniels,” you said against his lips. “You aren’t winning yourself any points with me right now.” 

“Mhm,” Jack hummed. “C’mon. We have to go.” 

“Go?” You sat up, rubbing your eyes. “Go where?” 

One of Jack’s old shirts was tossed in your direction, and he smiled. “We’re picking Frankie up today.” 

Immediately, you felt giddiness fill your stomach as you jumped up, suddenly very eager. You passed Jack, the both of you going about your morning routines in a very rushed way. Today was the day you and Jack were going to drive from your house in Texas all the way out to the middle of New Mexico to pick up your newborn daughter, Marie Francesca Daniels. 

It was nearly three in the morning by the time you were ready to go. Jack yawned, filling a travel mug with coffee and handing you your own travel mug. “Do we have everything?” 

You nodded. “Car seat is in the car already,” you said, checking the items off your fingers as you went. “Diaper bag was packed yesterday, I have that audiobook downloaded, you have the address in your phone, and I just packed snacks.” 

Jack smiled, kissing your forehead. “Are you ready?” 

“No,” you admitted. “But at the same time, yes. I can’t wait to have her here.” 

“I can’t either,” Jack reassured. “C’mon, we have to hit the road.” 

Despite the early hour, you didn’t sleep at all in the car, opting to instead listen to the audiobook you had picked and relax, watching night darkened landmarks pass you by. Exhilaration kept your eyes as open as they’d get until breakfast, and you paid half attention to the book while Jack drove beside you. 

Nine and a half months ago, you and Jack had sat down to have a very serious discussion. Did you want kids or not? Jack had, obviously, said yes, but after the catastrophe that was his late wife, he was hesitant. You were in a similar boat. Kids would’ve been nice, especially considering your ranch house was built for a family, but the process of having kids was something you could never see yourself doing. So after much discussion and a few angry nights, you and Jack found a surrogate. She wasn’t that far away, and she was super sweet. The three of you had met once, to confirm the pregnancy, and all of you had cried. Since then, her health had been well and steady, and last week she’d given birth to your baby girl. She was named after two of Jack’s great grandmothers, one from his mom’s side and one from his dad’s. 

The sun rose earlier than you expected, peering over the hills as Jack continued westward. The hospital in New Mexico was nearly nine hours away, meaning you wouldn’t even reach it until a bit past noon, and you wouldn’t be returning home until well after nine pm. But you didn’t mind, not for this. 

Nearly four hours into the trip, at 7 in the morning, Jack found a relatively healthy place to stop for breakfast. He walked in and got two bagels while you sat in the car, texting the surrogate. She had just woken up, and was almost as excited as you and Jack were for today. 

“Whatcha doing?” Jack asked, getting back into the car and handing you a paper bag with your bagels in it. 

“Texting Jackie,” you said. “She says Frankie is doing a-ok, and is eager to come home with us.” 

Jack smiled. “Still can’t believe you let me name her Francesca.” He handed you your bagel, and you grinned. 

“We made a deal,” you said. “You could name her Francesa as long as it wasn’t her first name. No matter what, I knew we’d be calling her Frankie.” 

“We can call her Marie when she’s in trouble,” Jack said, leaning in close and giving you a kiss. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” You asked, laughing as Jack trailed his kisses down, tickling your skin with his facial hair. 

Jack smiled, humming against your skin. “For letting us have a baby.” 

“Oh Jack,” you murmured, abandoning your breakfast so you could turn your full attention to your cowboy husband. “I wasn’t ever going to stop you from raising a family. Ever.” 

“I know,” Jack reassured. “What do you think about having another one? That house has room for three or four.” 

That brought a huge smile to your face. “Jack,” you said seriously, humor tinting your voice. “Let’s focus on one for now. We can revisit this conversation in two years.” 

Jack pouted, but accepted, leaning back so he could eat his bagel and get back on the road. You ate slower than Jack, absorbing the audiobook you’d started playing again and enjoying seeing all the passing land outside the car. 

A few more hours into your trip, and you were bored out of your mind. The book was super good, and you kept trying to focus your attention on that, but nothing could kill the boredom that was building in your chest. 

“What time is it?” 

Jack sighed. “Ten minutes since the last time you asked,” he said, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. “It’s about ten thirty.” 

You groaned. “Fuck,” you said, dragging the word out. “I’m so damn bored.” 

Jack chuckled. “My laptop is in the back if you want to screw around with that solitaire program.” 

It was better than doing a whole load of nothing, so you grabbed Jack’s laptop and set it up on top of your thighs. “Am I even allowed to use this?” 

“Why wouldn’t you be allowed to use it?” Jack asked. 

“What if I uncover some big Statesman secrets,” you said, logging in regardless. “What if I destroy the world?” 

Jack smiled. “You cannot destroy the world from my laptop,” he reassured. “Not that one, at least.” 

“This one?” You looked up, surprised. “You mean to tell me you can destroy the world from a laptop you own?” 

Now Jack was full on laughing. “Yeah!” He said. “My work laptop. It stays at work though.” 

You made a face. “Well that’s boring,” you decided, clicking on a solitaire game. “When do you want to grab lunch?” 

Jack shrugged. “According to the GPS, we’ll get there a little after noon, so what do you say to eleven thirty? That way we have time to eat and stuff, plus the car won’t smell.” 

It seemed reasonable to you, so you nodded. “Sounds good,” you said, sliding down in your seat and beginning a forty five minute long solitaire tournament with yourself. 

“Babe,” Jack said softly after you finished the tenth game, nudging you. “Take a look at this.” 

You shut the laptop off and looked up, immediately feeling yourself gasp. Outside the car was a sight you wished you could experience forever. The road stretched on as far as you could see, empty except for you and Jack. The sky was a beautiful picturesque blue with only the barest clouds, none of which dared block the sun. The earth was a gorgeous orange dirt, striped in various shades. Ahead of you stood a few mesas, breaking up the flat expanse of land. It was perfection, and you couldn’t help but pull out your phone to snap a picture. 

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed softly. “Absolutely beautiful.” 

Jack smiled. “There’s a small town ten minutes from here,” he said. “We can stop to grab lunch, and then it’s only another half hour until we’re there.” 

You looked at Jack, surprised. “Was I really playing solitaire for that long?” 

“Yes you were.” 

Lunch ended up being from a food truck, considering that was all you could find in the middle of nowhere, New Mexico. When you got out of the car, you immediately groaned, stretching your legs out and feeling your back pop. 

Jack smiled, grabbing his hat. “Feeling okay over there?” 

You shrugged. “I’ve been through worse,” you decided, looking around. “This place is so cool.” 

“Reminds me of where I grew up,” Jack said, putting his arm around you. “Although my hometown had more grass and less sand.” 

While you two ate at a small picnic table, you texted Jackie, telling her you were only half an hour away. She responded with enthusiasm, and you sent her the picture you took of the landscape. 

The final leg of your trip was very quiet. The audiobook had finished, and neither of you wanted to break the delicate silence in the car. Well, silence was relative, considering Jack was humming John Denver while he drove, but you didn’t mind. 

When you finally pulled into the hospital parking lot, you had trouble getting out of the car. Inside that building was your baby, your little girl. When you looked over at Jack, he looked just as nervous as you. “Ready cowboy?” 

“Ready,” Jack confirmed, taking your hand. “Let’s do this.” 

Finding the room wasn’t hard. A very sweet nurse led you to Jackie’s room, and you stared at the door for a solid minute before knocking. 

“You’re here!” Jackie said, smiling as Jack opened the door. “She’s been an angel for me all morning.” 

You nodded, unable to speak. Wrapped in a soft blanket in Jackie’s arms was your baby. You and Jack had both seen photos, but it seemed nothing would compare to the real thing. Jackie stood, still holding Frankie. “Do you want to hold her?” 

Jack stepped forward, and Jackie put Frankie down in his arms. Jack smiled, cradling Frankie close to his body. “Hey baby,” he said softly. “It’s me, your daddy.” 

Jackie stepped back, towards you. “He’s a natural,” she whispered to you. 

You nodded. “Thank you so much,” you said. “I don’t ever think I’ll be able to thank you enough for what you’ve given us.” 

Jackie smiled. “I’m just glad I was able to help you two.” 

After nearly half an hour of sitting and waiting, you and Jack both holding Frankie, a doctor came around to release her. He checked your daughter over and deemed her okay to leave, and the four of you all walked out together. Jackie waved and smiled from her car as she drove away, rolling her window down to give you one final goodbye. 

You got into the driver’s seat, looking back at Jack, who was settling Frankie into her car seat. “How goes it back there cowboy?” 

“Got it!” Jack said triumphantly, smiling and kissing Frankie’s head. “Sleep tight baby girl.” He closed the backseat door and got into the passenger seat. “Still can’t believe she’s ours.” 

You smiled, taking his hand. “We have a daughter.” 

Jack nodded, his eyes watering. “A daughter,” he said softly. 

By the time you were half an hour away from the hospital, it began to feel more real. Every so often, Jack would check the backseat, finding Frankie asleep every time. She slept soundly, and you almost recommended Jack do the same. He’d been up since really early, and you could tell he needed rest. 

Two hours towards home, you realized that would’ve been disastrous. 

Frankie started to cry, and almost immediately, Jack looked at you. “What’s going on?” He asked, eyes wide. “Is she okay?” 

You nodded. “She’s probably hungry,” you said, carefully pulling over and putting the car in park. “Her bottle is in the diaper bag.” 

Jack took a breath and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I got this.” 

He got out of the car and picked Frankie up, carrying her to the front seat with him. “That’s it,” he said softly, grabbing the bottle and beginning to feed her. 

You smiled, grabbing your phone to take a picture and send it to every single one of Jack’s coworkers who you had contact with.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked, barely looking up at you. 

“Giving Tequila sufficient blackmail,” you said with a smile. “And showing Ginger her new niece.” 

Jack made a face, laughing when he looked back at Frankie and found her copying his scrunched up face. “Aren’t you just a little troublemaker?” He said. “I know my mama can’t wait to meet you, bumblebee. How’s that sound? Wanna get spoiled by your abuelita?” 

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Jack,” you said. “Put Frankie back in her car seat, I have to keep driving.” 

“Can I hold her for a bit?” Jack asked, looking up at you with his pleading puppy eyes. “Please?” 

Taking a deep breath, you sighed. “Fine,” you said. “But only for a little bit.” 

Jack smiled, twisting a bit so he could get himself buckled back in. As he did so, you turned the radio on, dialing the volume down a bit. 

You drove like that for a bit, with Jack cradling Frankie in the front seat. He hummed along to the radio, rocking Frankie as he hummed. Finally, the cursed song began to play, and Jack lit up. 

“Almost heaven, West Virginia. Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River. Life is old there, older than the trees. Younger than the mountains, growin' like a breeze,” he sang along softly with John Denver, and you smiled, turning the radio up a bit. Jack continued to sing, putting a gentle lull over the car as you continued your drive home, your tiny family of three comfortable and together at last. 

“Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong. West Virginia, mountain mama. Take me home, country roads.”

[popculturebuffet]

Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers (DT17 Season 2 Retrospective): The Most Dangerous Game Night! (Paid for by WeirdKev27)

Welcome all you happy people! As some of you will recall I do a lot of duck based retrospectives on this blog: Ride of the Three Cablleros! which took a look at all the Cabs major American adventures, Shadow Into Light, my Weblena colored look at Lena Sabrewing’s journey from abused teenager to magical protector, and the Della arc which I dind’t give a cool name but covered since Shadow Into Light read right into it’s final chapter and ended up perfectly synching up with the final month of the series. And of course i’m still working my way through the life and times of Scrooge McDuck with a plan to finish the main story in September barring any delays, sickness that sorta thing.

So it shouldn’t be at all a shock that having covered all of season 3 when it came out and covered the two season 1 arcs i’d be taking a look at Season 2′s three story arcs. So I probably would’ve covered them anyway.. but Kev, one of my patreons and the guy who commissioned Shadow Into Light AND Ride of the Three Cablleros, had expressed interest in doing the Glomgold arc from season 2 as it centers around his favorite character, Zan Owlson. He also wanted to do Della’s arc in time for mothers day, and was all too happy to combine both, and politely agreed to my request to do the Louie arc as well. To help soften the blow, I also suggested since he’s a patreon of mine on patreon.com/popculturebuffet he use his second review (You get one guaranteed review a month with 5 and he’s a 10 dollar backer so he gets two, and he’s earmarked marked one for House of Mouse through the end of the year)  to help soften the blow a bit, which means some weeks i’ll be doubling up on this one. He agreed and it’s thanks to him that all of this happened so thanks bud. It’s also thanks to him I have money in the first place and I wouldn’t be here without him.

As for why I insisted on the Louie arc it wasn’t out of greed but out of pragmatism. I covered the Della arc purely on my own time, and gladly did so. But back then I also kept making the mistake of shoving retrospectives back again and again and again and that’s why there’s a rather nasty gap in my New X-Men retrospective I think severely harmed it , and a similar one for life and times which wounded it. I don’t mind taking smaller gaps of say a month when needed, but I learned from the experience I can’t just delay things constantly out of convince and expect it to work.

Not only that but the Lena and Della arcs only interact in the very last part. With these arc? While they don’t really touch at first and run parallel much like season 1′s arcs did, they start intersecting heavily as soon as Della gets back. Raiders of the Doomsday Vault! touches on both Della’s recent return and Glomgold’s bet with Scrooge, Happy Birthday Doofus Drake! has the A-Plot centered around Louie’s plot and the B-Plot centered around Della bonding with Huey as part of hers. And the final four is one one long, sustained arc, finishing up all three in the process. So yeah it was a package deal and as such this will be my third largest retrospective at 17 parts including the prologue. (As i’ll also be covering Della’s four issues in the IDW Comic released back in season 1). For the record my largest will be my Tom Lucitor Retrospective as 24 (in part due to doing the eclipsa arc for the same reasons as Dellas), and ride of the three cablleros at 20 is in a close second. This is going to be a long ride that will take most of summer, so buckle up, get your Louie Inc signs, Glomgold’ posters to jump through and black licorice gum ready and join me won’t you under the cut as we start this fantastic adventure together.

We open season 2 with all but one of our heroes proudly posing as they enter a temple. Scrooge even has his treasure of the lost lamp outfit on. Louie.. just looks tired and bored. One of the things I love about these reviews is that I haven’t watched most of the episodes since they first aired. Sure i’ve revisited some of my favorites like Dangerous Chemistry and the 87 Cent Solution,  but I haven’t really DONE a full died in wool episode by episode rewatch of the series. I’ve got SO MUCH I haven’t watched, haven’t rewatched and haven’t even started, that I really DON’T have the time for it outside of my job. So it is VERY nice to get a chance to do so once in a while with it.

As such knowing Louie’s real motive this episode it makes this scene hit diffrently. On first airing Ducktales was back after a short hiatus, our heroes are operating at full speed and daringly charting through a temple: Dewey and Webby have become tighter than ever and easily stop a pit trap and Scrooge and Huey easily solve an arrow puzzle. But while at first glance Louie is just fed up because as he puts it later “I’m just loveably lazy”, knowing he’s really just burnt out, scared he’s going to die or worse like he likely thinks his Mom did because he’s not good enough.. it’s really tearjerking. Here’s an 11 year old who at his core feels he doesn’t belong in his family and just wants a friggin break from the dangerous shit they do. It hits even harder as a fan of the venture bros but i’ll save that for later. Point is he’s telling Scrooge he’s burnt out.

So then this happens...

It really is almost the exact same joke, but diffrent enough since for one, Family Guy’s is driven by the refrenece (And god how I miss how their refrence humor used to have an actual purpose), where as here it’s to set up something else and hints for later: Louie having parsed how most adventures to at this point. While Scrooge is right in pointing out how every adventure is unique.. Louie’s not wrong that there is a small pattern to it: The Whoah! , The “Wait, What?” and the Aggggh!. Scrooge scoffs.. but Louie is proven correct as Dewey Whoas, a mechanisim trggers (Wait what?”) And everyone screams as they run from a giant wheel.

Back at home though it’s even more apparent poor Louie is miserable while his family is just jazzed. I can’t BLAME THEM, but I can’t blame him either for being, tired, worn out and just wanting ONE minute where they aren’t adventuering. There are some nice touches though as Scrooge runs off and finds a map in the idol: We see Duckworth removing the Scrooge as a Prospector painting based on Carl Bark’s painting of him from the foyer and instead replacing it with the painting of Scrooge, Donald and Della. It’s a nice little acknowledgment of how things have changed.. from Scrooge being alone and running from a painful past to having accepted it and gone back to being a family man. We also get Beakley just casually picking up Louie to vacum.

In the Triplet’s room.. which by the way why do they all share one room? In universe I mean, I mean is it saving on the power bill or does scrooge have the other rooms filled. Only four bedrooms are occupied: the boys, webby’s , Beakly’s (Which we never see but implicitly exists), and Scrooge’s himself. While the mansion isn’t LIMITLESS, it has to have more rooms than that. Is the rest just storage?

Out of universe though I do get why and i’ts why I let this concept of sharing a room when you have enough for everyone in the first place slide: it allows the boys to interact more easily outside of adventures by having all three in the same location. This episode is a good example of that as it kicks off Louie’s plan admirably: Louie is burnt out while Huey is excited.. and in another hint of Louie’s true gift he casually notices part of Dewey’s woodchuck uniform he was looking after is undone, simply making a quip about a sewing patch. He gets the idea for a scheme from there: to finally get his break by convincing Huey he’s slipping and exploiting his brother’s tendency for manic episodes.. which as someone with those I highly don’t approve and is far and away one of the more questionable things Louie’s done. And this is in an arc that includes him nearly wiping out all of existence.

Still it gets Huey on board but Scrooge and the wonder twins are a harder sell. Dewey and Webby are so jazzed on frinedship their even speaking in unions “This Needs to stop!” “I’ve tried but they really do enjoy harmonizing”

Louie insists the adventuring is driving them apart and making them less close.. and while Scrooge insits it brings them closer together  he ends up proving his point when Louie fakes not knowing which triplet is which.. and Scrooge GENUINELY struggles with which one’s Huey and Which ones Dewey. Dewey’s face is at the top of the page.. and utterly and completely priceless.

And while I thought it was the same impressive face from night on Kilmotor hill turns out, nerp their uniquely hilaroius

Same mood though. But I do love this callback: almost a YEAR later, and Scrooge STILL is like...

But while movie night and make your own pizza night, which i’m pleased as punch to find isn’t just something my family does, don’t do anything one thing does... GAME NIGHT. Cue a glorious minute of David Tennant goofily shouting Game Night to everyone in the mansion. Seriously getting him was one of the series masterstrokes. The man has only done a few roles in voicework but damn is he a natural. Not eveyrone can adapt to it this fast. While I love Walton Goggins, it clearly took him a few episodes of invincible to get really comfortable with it. It’s why I have such respect for Voice Actors in general: I’ts not an easy job, it takes a lot of skill, and it can be often thankless. It’s also why i’ve made a concentrated effort ot more know of them by voice simply because they’ve earned that much.

Anyways Beakly pops Louie’s bubble that htis is not going to be relaxing for a very obvious reason: Scrooge is relentless against his enmies and game night makes YOU the enemy. He quickly has them pair off into teams, taking Donald right off the bat.

We also get one of the best jokes in the entire series “If you loose your out of the will” “(Genuinely suprised) I was in the will?”

It’s almost entriely in Tony’s delivery there. The surprise is just perfectly delivered. It’s also oddly touching as despite a decade’s estrangement and Donald understandably thinking he wasn’t in it in anymore, Scrooge NEVER removed Donald from it . Sure he’s thretaning it over game night but he clearly takes this ungodly seriously. Duckworth leaves to go do ghost stuff.. which is code for make up a flimsy excuse to run the fuck away. To make matters worse she’s stuck with Launchpad as a partner. Louie is left with Huey and immieditly regrets sending his brother into a panicy spiral as he’s already set up a creepy scheduling board.

So i’m going to go ahead and cover the Webby and Dewey Plot, and the acompanying Donald and Scrooge antics now to save us some time. I’ll come back to it at the climax of Louie’s plot obviously and to the episodes credit the pacing is exceptional, weaving in and out of both plots , Louie struggling to keep the whole shrinking plot a secret and the rest of the families game night, excelently, it’s just with my brain i’ts harder to do that in a recap so...

Game Night: Crush Your Enmies and See Them Driven Before You Scrooge goes to the Conan of Sumeria/Melissa School of Game Nighting. Or in short...

Why HASN’T there been a Conan musical? So he and Donald dominate the first round, Charades, with Scrooge easily guessing almost EVERYHTING Donald mimes. As Webby puts it “When you’ve been around donald for 30 years you get good at non-verbal commuincation”. Granted they have a commuincation breakdown that results in this magic.

So Webby understandably assumes that given their best friends and Scrooge and Donald, while reconciled, hate each other, that they have an advantage. She is wrong. Not the first time: she also assumed she and Lena were just friends. It happens. you get a few wrong everyone does. Instead we get a great bit of Dewey utterly failing to guess it’s Scrooge despite Webby being obvious because Dewey’s brain is a riddle for the ages. 

Jenga dosen’t really go great for either so they go solo for SCROOGEPOLY. Because of COURSE Scrooge created monopoly in this version. I simletaniously love and hate how eveyr piece is a top hat. I love it because it’s a hilarously quick gag.. but also hate it because one of Monopoly’s biggest draws is having so many diffrent peices. I mean some like the sports car make sense but then you have a dog for some reason and an ironing board. I mean I love that dog, he’s a good boy but I don’t understand why he’s in this. If anyone knows the weird old timey reasoning for either of these let me know in the replies or my asks. 

This isn’t bad stuff mind, it’s just not really deep in stuff for me to make fun of. Apart from Donald ending up in jail... again. At least it’s not as bad as say goblin jail or that time he had to carve pinocchio’s nose into a shiv to surivive whale jail.

Louie: “How Long Before That’s Not Enough?”

Okay I kid, the subplot is good.. but that’s th epotatoes.. this is the potatoes iwth cheese.. look I love meat but potatoes don’t get enough love. They just don’t and you can do all kinds of delicious things to them. It’s why a good third of side dishes at most restaurants are potato based. 

But yeah rolling it back a bit Louie is confident that even with the  this will be mildly relaxing.. then Gyro bursts in thorugh the double doors proudly announcing his invention and pries himself in, ignoring Louie’s desperate attempts to shut him out.

 Gyro is.. different in this episode. He’s peppy and while he’s mildly condescnding to the Gyropludians, more no that in a second, he’s far more enthuastic and freindly to everyone else and less of the awkward ballbag he’d been last season and would be again this season.

This feels like an ATTEMPTED course correct. See a lot of people, if understandably didn’t like how Gyro was in season 1. Fan of the original him from the comics and show iddn’t like the nice, friendly weirdo suddenly being a sour, condesencindg weirdo. Me I was FINE with the change from unintentional mad scientist to intentional one... I just feel they overdid it on the asshole as season 1 went on. In The Great Dime Chase he’s fine, he’s egosticial, angry and kind of a pill.. but he also clearly cares for his creations, rightfully hates the board for constantly doubting him, and is frustrated his creations keep going rouge. It was a nice balance. 

The balance got thrown off entirely however once Fenton entered the scene. The crew just leaned WAY to hard into hwo much of a shitweasel he was to fenton: giving him an office in the bathroom with a cool quip, trying to beat him up (even if his rage over Fenton’s dumbassery was warranted that was not), and finally trying to take the gizmoduck armor back not out of any real concerns but because he’s worried he’ll loose his job... his job iwth the man who freely tolerates his creations going insane and really dosen’t care about his own colateral let alone Gyro’s. It came off as disngenous and that he simply didn’t trust FENTON with it and wanted and excuse to take the armor Fenton had clearly earned. He also pit manny and bulb against each other for a job which just felt out of character even for him to possibly fire one of his children which felt horribly out of character. Toniing this down was a good thing.. I just feel they overcorrected. They tried making him the 80′s version with a slight ego here, and when that didn’t work they just downplayed him for the rest of the season. He’s still around, in fact we’ll be seeing him again soon enough, and he still gets some great jokes... he’s just not really focused on at all. But they managed to fix their fix in season 3: they did have Gyro be a dick to Fenton again but gave proper context, had him apologize and framed it less as a funny joke and more as him being abusive because he was abused himself and breaking the cycle. He also kept the supporting role but kept the shadiness in it, with the earpiece bit from “Louie’s Eleven” being a highlight. 

Gyro has a new device that can pick up tiny sounds and has found a tiny civilization in the ducks house, dubbing them Gyropudlians because he apparnetly likes Gullivers Travels. I do not really know what that’s about, nor have I seen any of the movies. Not even the jack black one made on a dare to see if they could actually sell a movie on the concept “This old story but as a jack black comedy”. And it went horribly wrong because they actually did get it greenlit and someone out there actually watched it. Not me... and I watched the Wrong MIssy entirely of my own volition. I’m not immune from making eye staining mistakes. This just wasn’t one of them. 

Gyro ends up getting shrunk down because he naturally attached a shrink ray to it because...

So Louie shrugs it off correctly figuring out the arc of that sort of story: Gyro becomes a god, he learns a life lesson that sort of thing. Also I do applaud them for making the lost tribe not horribly racist.. that is a hard line to walk. They just make them generic instead which.. still better than racist. “Not Racist” isn’t a very high bar to clear but given this version went out of it’s way to be inclusive while the original show.. what’s a good metaphor for this.. hrmmm... these rakes are all the racism in the original show i’ve encoungered so far and probably will in the future, and i’m sideshow bob. 

Eventually though the Gyropudlians decide to decalre war on the giants because unknowingly the Ducks have been destroying their civilizations time and time again.. mostly louie but donald clearly peed a civiliztion to death..and i’m not grasping at straws there he left the bathroom and the other two possiblities for the floating city are too horrible to comprehend. Or it was just the sink and i’m a bastard... i’m probably a bastard.

So they blast the shrink ray around the kitchen and get Launchpad, so now he’s a part of this cliche. Beakly finds them.. is highly supscious, and Huey’s lie is.. not convincing... but this gets her out of game night with her overcompeitive boss so she takes the out and gets the fuck out and is not seen for the rest of the episode.. probably for several days. Look she does a lot around the house no one’s going to question if she comes back after a mysteirous absence with someone elses blood on her apron and several thousnd ddollars in brazilian cocaine. The sweetest cocaine of all. Scrooge is just used to it by now. 

Anyways things continue to escalate as The Gyropuldians, Launchpad and Gyro launch an assault on the tower of infinity, aka the jenga tower and knock it over. The Good news is launchpad surivives and we get a great bit of the brothers hugging then awkarly and half assedly explaning it to cover. the bad news is the Gyropudlians considered it an act of war and have trained some flies to man the microphone shrink ray dealie. 

It’s here we get the best scene of the episode: Huey is naturally worried.. even more so after he sees Louie’s response to the unfolding chaos: Curling up in a fetal position and rocking back in forth muttering to himself this was supposed to be a fun night in. Huey finally has had enough of this and wants to knwo wha tthe hell this is all about, shooting down Louie attempting to deflect it with his usual lazy schtick. Even at his laziest he’d pride self preservation over doing nothing. This is something worse. And while Huey is furious his rage is coming out of concern. While Huey prides himself on his brain... he has the biggest heart of the three. He’s the most empathetic and the one most willing to reach out to the others when they need him. Not that hte others lack it, Dewey was the one to welcome Webby into the group the most after all, it’s just Huey displays it the most. So his anger comes off entirely as genuine worry at Louie acting out of character and trying to avoid doing what eveyrone else does. And his response.. is heartbreaking...

“BECAUSE I’MMom was great at adventuring, and she still got hurt. I'm only good at talking my way out of it. How long before that's not enough? NOT GOOD AT IT OKAY?!” 

Bobby Monihan.. really dosen’t get enough credit for this show. When he gets to really do something big with Louie he goes for it and he uttelry dominates the scnee here. Danny Pudi is no slouch mind.. but Monihan REALLy gets to show what he can do. His reasoning for his worries is also just as well delivered and heartbreaking. 

“Mom was great at adventuring, and she still got hurt. I'm only good at talking my way out of it. How long before that's not enough?“

It just.. stings a lot. To find that Louie’s exaustion wasn’t out of self intrest.. but just out of fear. That he won’t be good enough at best and that he’ll end up like his mom: lost or dead never to be seen again as far as he figures. As a third of this arc will bear out, tha’ts not even remotely true, but out of the three Louie is the most pragmatic so while he says hurt.. he thinks she’s dead. And if she, someone as capable as scrooge or as close as someone whose not him can be, could end up dead... he’s living on borrowed time. 

This is where the Venture bros comparison really comes out to me... because they had a similar if more spread out storyline in season 5, with bookish brother Dean, Huey if he lacked autisim but gained 80 dozen more issues, found out he and his brother Hank, aka Dewey in his teens, were clones because his dad is really bad at keeping his sons alive because he’s also bad at everything else including science, parenting, being emotinally open, making a cocktail that isn’t a crime against nature, sex, and not treating hank like garbage, which should fall under shitty parenting but I love my empty headed boy.

So why bring this up? Well besides self indulgance because I love both shows iwth a signifgant portion of my heart and frank flat out admitted to being a venture bros fan, and having Beakly take some cues from Brock, I love the accidental parallels here: both are arcs about a boy adventuer coming to grips with their mortality. Both withdraw, both are heavily depressed and both feel there’s no real light at the end of the tunnel for htem anymore. 

And both.. are drawn out of it the same way.. by a concerned brother pulling them out of their misery and self doubt:

It’s the same here... Huey helps Louie through it, understanding how he feels.. and like Hank did for Dean, proving to Louie he’s not alone. He points out that yes Della did get hurt.. but it’s because she went in alone. He’s got his family.. they won’t let him get lost or die.. because their not alone. The reason they can do all this stuff is because their together. Their all amazing alone.. but together their unstoppable. And i’ts fine Louie’s afraid.. but he can’t let that fear kill everyone he cares about.

So our boys run upstairs, but are a second too late as the gyro pudlians shrink the other four down, and the duo’s attempt to grow them just makes one of the gyropudlians giant instead. With things at their grimmist.. Louie finds his TRUE talent, looks at the situation. and takes charge. In the span of two minutes he completely turns the tide: he has launchpad crash his way out, which he does by pure accident because of course he does he’s nature’s perfect Himbo. He next has Donald and scrooge take on some guards to give Dewey and Webby some room and has Huey take out the giant with his sewing. His final part is to have Dewey and Webby work their way up to the ray gun.. which is a probelma s both have lost all confidence due to realizing they have nothing in common and can’t fathom how their friends. Scrooge’s reply? Of course their not.. THEIR FAMILY. It was then that a thousand debbigail shippers cried out and were silenced... I know I was one of them. I couldn’t speak for about a minute. It was awful. 

And yeah.. I had been shipping Dewey and Webby up to this point, but it was becoming increasingly obvious they were being treated like brother and sister and then this happened. And in hindsight i’m glad I jumepd the hell off as they turne dout ot be blood related so I dodged a bullet there an found better ships for both. So no harm no F.O.W.L. clone accidental incest. 

Realizing this the two find their second wind and save the day. OUr heroes are restored and things are good.

The next day, Louie faces the music with Scrooge and is terrified, not helped by Scrooge being dead serious... but his worries are for naught. Scrooge instead only has one thing to say

“You saw all the angles”

Something the crew conciously did was have each of the kids mimic one of Scrooge’s tennants, something that was heavily implied before but made fully explicit here: Dewey is toughter than the toughies, Huey is Smarter than the smarties... and Louie is the oft forgotten Sharper than the sharpies. Scrooge even lampshades how that part of his motto is often left out. And of course as frank made clear post series, Webby made her way into the family Square. 

But back to the sharpie thing, I like this because it defines what that truly means, as it often comes off as similar to the smartie bit hence i’ts exclusion: It’s the ablitliyt to think quickly, strategize, a strategic, critical mind that can come up with a gambit in an instant and use everyone to the best of their abillity. It’s why for an example, Scott Summers is one of my faviorite x-men. Because while his eye laser things are impressive it’s this kind of cleverness and tactical insight, seeing all the pieces on the board and easily manuvering them, friend and foe, that makes him so awesome. And as scrooge muses it could make Louie even richer than he is. And in a truly touching gesture, Scrooge gives Louie the idol, confident in his Nephew’s potetial. His mother reached hers... he only needs time. So with that Louie’s arc truly begins and he hangs a shingle on the triplets door. Louie inc is born. 

Final Thoughts: This episode caught me by suprise: I remember it being decent.. but damn if it wasn’t amazing on the rewatch, with the knowledge of Louie’s weakness helping but really it’s just a funny, tightly paced half hour of television. It has great jokes, a great emtoinal arc and in general is jsut well.. great. I didn’t see this poteitial the first time because I was more hung up on fethry finally appearing, the cabs finally appearing.. all the things in the distance after this ep. But this ep is just damn good and I wish i’d put it on my best of list. Top shelf stuff.

Next time on Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers: The second arc starts up as FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD returns as an amensiac south african fisherman and it’s up to Webby and Louie to unravel his past to figure out why he’s acting like this and if this is another one of his insane schemes. We also meet Zan Owlson buisnesswoman of the year and person about to go through some undeserved shit at the hands of a stupid man.  Later Today: We return to Amity Park for more Danny Phantom and meet his second most intresting enemy as an innocent fuckup turns a spoiled brat into one of most dangerous enemies. Also PUPPIES and Tucker being the worst. 

Wednsday: We grab onto some more ducktales as Donald returns to Ducktales 87. And judging by the content warning so does racisim. 

If you liked this review stop my patreon RIGHT HERE. Seriously please do: you’ll find exclusive reviews, and if you join you’ll get acess to my discord, get to pick a short for my shortstravganzas, and help me reach my strech goals. And at my next one at 20, just 5 dollars away, ALL READERS will get a darkwing duck review a month and reivews of the two ducktales movie as well as the Danny Phantom TV Movie the ultimate enemy! 

See you at the next rainbow!

[forasecondtherewedwon]

I really really love that your one chapter fic became a two chapters fic and that maybe it could turn into a three chapters one. I also love you are taking prompts. So one, what about Benny and Beth being themselves while Benny prepares to face Borgov and he actually wins this time? Ofc just an idea...

Copenhagen Revisited

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 3165

Summary: Two years after Beth beat Borgov, it's Benny's turn to face him. They make Cleo's West Berlin apartment their headquarters as Beth prepares Benny for the match.

Benny travels like Van Helsing—staring out the window of the plane with an expression of feverish determination. The fact that he’s compared Borgov to Dracula more than once may be what’s leading Beth to her own character association. Mostly, she’s just watching him and wishing he’d taken the aisle seat. He’s blocking the view.

“I can practically feel him breathing down my neck,” he complains, shifting in his seat and drawing his jacket closed protectively across his chest.

Beth rolls her eyes and sips their Coke through her straw.

“He’s never even beaten you that badly,” she remarks, passing the drink to Benny, who sucks absently at his own straw.

“But he could.”

She scoffs.

“How? You’re better than you were the last time you played him.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because,” she says firmly, “you’ve played me a couple hundred times since then. Borgov’s not as tough to beat as I am. I proved that in Moscow two years ago.”

“Oh, did you? I hadn’t heard.”

Narrowing her eyes at him for his snark, she takes the Coke back and sets it on her lowered tray.

“You weren’t this nervous in New York.”

“We weren’t flying towards him in New York.” Benny tugs his jacket again. “And I’m not nervous.”

“Right. Well,” Beth reminds him, “you’ll have time to acclimate. That’s why we’re going early. And it’s not like Borgov’s going to be nearby. I don’t think being a celebrated chess player is enough to balance out his nationality in the eyes of West Berlin. Not exactly warm feelings towards Russians.”

“Is this a good idea?”

She looks at him carefully. He doesn’t usually ask her questions unless they’re rhetorical, teasing, or both.

“Yes,” she says decisively. “It was a good idea for Cleo to offer her apartment and it’s a good idea to go early. When we fly to Copenhagen in three weeks, you’ll be ready to give Borgov the same treatment you gave Najdorf.”

“You know journalists still ask me about that game?” Benny says, finally swiveling his face away from the window to meet her eye. “I was eight. I don’t even remember it. All I ever say about it is something I remember saying before. It’s just me quoting me quoting me—” He makes a rolling gesturing with his hand. “—all the way back to something I can only assume is the truth.”

Beth makes a dismissive noise.

“They print what they want anyway.”

“It’s lousy.”

“What is?”

“Feeling like a pawn. Can never move backward,” he mumbles.

“I’ve never chaperoned you to a tournament before,” she observes. “I didn’t realize the anticipation would make you so dramatic.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. Maybe you’re not irreversibly out of touch with your eight-year-old self.”

He stares sulkily out the window.

“I get airsick,” he finally admits in a low voice.

“That’s what’s wrong?” Beth laughs. “No wonder you drive to all the domestic opens.” Taking pity, she passes him the Coke again. “Here, the carbonation will help.”

Benny drinks, then rests his head back against the seat with a sigh, closing his eyes.

“Vampire bastard,” he groans.

Beth holds the bottle for a minute, then places her cold hand against his forehead.

“It’s his slicked-back hair, isn’t it?” she guesses.

“Could be.”

—

Cleo isn’t at her Berlin apartment. She’s not in Berlin. She was planning to be, when she volunteered her place as Benny’s training ground, so Beth and Benny are doubly stupefied to hear that she left three days earlier for a job in Milan. Cleo’s neighbour tells them this—another model, Beth would guess, based on her arty haircut and the smudge of hazy blue eyeshadow around glazed eyes. She’s higher than they were when they flew over the Atlantic, but thankfully functional enough to press Cleo’s key into Benny’s hand. Her stoned, accented English stomps the ear like a heavy tread, then grinds the words like a cigarette beneath a boot heel. She also invites them to a party at her apartment later. They don’t make it; jetlag strikes and they collapse on Cleo’s bed, dragging the scrappy, colourful assortment of decorative shawls serving as blankets over themselves and falling asleep.

Unlike when Benny trained Beth in his underground apartment in New York, they can’t count on ’round the clock silence here. It’s a loud building, boisterous and bohemian, and the parties of Cleo’s neighbour seem to occur nightly. Beth confronts a startlingly hungover teenage girl tottering up the stairs one morning as she’s going down. She jumps. The girl is a reflection. The girl is a ghost. The girl is possibly swearing at Beth for staring, judging by the scowl accompanying the words that come grating from her dry throat.

Fortunately, nightly parties also mean that the place is quiet most of the day as people sleep off whatever they drank, smoked, injected, or otherwise ingested the previous evening. Quiet is good. Quiet is perfect. She and Benny take slugs of strong German coffee (Benny is especially pleased, though he only hums softly to show it) and play match after match until noon at the small table under Cleo’s kitchen window. With the window propped open, they listen to the rush of traffic below. Beth breathes deeply and watches Benny chew his lip as he contemplates his moves. Their focus is the endgame—Borgov’s specialty.

When she promises they won’t get up to anything like the neighbours next door, Beth’s able to coax Benny out some evenings. They take in the culture; she does it for the memory of Alma and suspects that Benny does it for her.

She scrunches her eyebrows together in confusion as they prepare to depart on a Friday and he’s not wearing his hat.

“You’re not forgetting your head,” she says carefully, “but it’s almost as serious.”

“I don’t want it getting in the way.”

Beth stares at him, waiting for clarification.

“Come on, kid. I’m taking you dancing.”

An hour later, in his arms, she says, “As your trainer, it should’ve been me forcing you to take a break.”

“Ah, it might not be your tournament, but you’re just as intense. You love to study.”

“Maybe I would’ve studied less if I knew that you knew how to dance.”

“Yeah, I’m sensational. Just don’t look at my feet.”

They laugh their way through it and, though she can’t actually hear them laughing over the volume of the band at the hole in the wall Benny dragged her into, she’ll recall the way his eyes squinted and his teeth showed and fill in the laughter after the fact. Their hands clasp and release and their fingers misalign in a haphazard grip and she laughs. She sways against him, clutching his half-unbuttoned black shirt, and feels his shudder. They hurry back to Cleo’s apartment and have sweaty, desperate sex against the wall just inside the door. Beth rakes her fingers through Benny’s uncovered hair, gasping. When they’re done, they receive a muffled cheer from the neighbouring apartment. She drops her forehead to his shoulder with a smile.

The time flies and, at Benny’s behest, their play becomes more disciplined. They only replicate Russian matches to reenforce the coldblooded style he’ll meet when he sits down across from Borgov. They begin to use a clock; up to this point, their exchanges were untimed, to allow for contemplation and debate following each move, if necessary. They even—finally—get fed up with the neighbours. Benny walks out of the apartment for fresh air and comes back with a bloody nose and reddened knuckles that are beginning to swell because, apparently, some hazy partygoer staggered into him in the hallway and they got into it for no good reason. Thank god he didn’t pull his knife. Beth’s witnessed enough nasty little fistfights behind Mrs. Deardorff’s back at the orphanage to assess that Benny’s nose isn’t broken, though the skin under his left eye very quickly begins to purple. Great. He’ll face Borgov looking like a pugilist. She prepares him a nice bundle of ice and accidentally drops it onto his hand to communicate her contempt for his stupidity. Reckless asshole.

“You could’ve at least told me you were really going out to pick a fight.”

“What would you have done?” Benny wonders, shifting the ice from his knuckles to his face with a wince. “Taken a couple swings yourself?”

Beth puffs up, straightening her spine.

“Of course.”

“Nah, honey, your nose is too pretty to chance it.”

She can’t decide: it’s either the endearment she doesn’t know what to do with or the implication that she’d be witless enough to stand there and take a jab to the center of her face that makes Beth rise and kick the leg of the chair Benny’s sitting right on the edge of. He looks mad enough when his backside hits the floor, but he sighs and glances up at her.

“You want a game?”

She smiles.

“I’ll play black.”

The night before they fly to Copenhagen, she sees it’ll take more than fresh air, yet another chess match, or a bop on the nose to calm him. He’s pacing, pointing, and lecturing—each habit sufficiently annoying on its own, but in conjunction? He’ll drive them both crazy if she lets him carry on.

“Come on, kid,” she says, and makes him sit on the edge of the bed instead of the chair.

Beth’s efficient at undoing buttons, even from behind, and has her back-buttoning blouse stripped off before Benny’s redirected his thoughts from the game they left set up on the board in the other room to what’s happening in front of him. When she starts unzipping her skirt, he catches her hands and takes over. She sits on his lap and rubs him through his jeans until he rolls her onto her back. Breathless and fumbling at his belt, Beth tells herself Cleo had to know they wouldn’t just be using her apartment to play chess. If there’s one language Cleo speaks more fluently than the others, it’s sex. Feeling absolved, Beth hooks her legs up around Benny’s hips.

—

“Well, well, well, look who’s still famous,” he mutters to her after jerking open the door of the venue to the sudden flutter of flashbulbs.

“I’m sorry,” Beth offers with a smirk. “I wore sunglasses and everything. I was trying to be inconspicuous.”

Benny grins back because that was never going to happen. She hasn’t exactly kept her head down for the last two years, steadily working her way through American Masters, felling them. It’s kind of a hobby. Still, she’s chosen an active chess career in the States over the spectacle of European tournaments, so for the international press, Beth’s appearance today is quite an occasion. But it doesn’t trouble Benny. He’s never struggled with monopolizing the spotlight.

“I’ll answer five questions before my first match,” he announces, arm around Beth’s waist. “Who’s first?”

“Mr. Watts, what’s it like to be back in Copenhagen?”

“Great. It’s been a while. The flight was quick with no turbulence, exactly how I like it.”

“Your eye—have you been in a fight?”

“Chess is a rough sport.”

“How are you feeling going into your first match?”

“Prepared.”

“Do you plan to meet Borgov in the final on Saturday?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“What is your relationship with Miss Harmon?”

Benny glances sideways at her. Above her sunglasses, Beth raises an eyebrow. Some people might be thrown by the abrupt switch in subject matter, but the moment of hesitation as he parts his lips to answer is mischievous.

“Waiting for her to make an honest man outta me. That’s five, boys,” he points out, lifting a hand that does double duty as an acknowledgement and a brushing aside motion; it parts the small crowd and he guides Beth through.

“Well now they definitely won’t print anything about you.”

“Sure they will. My name right alongside yours: ‘Watts and Harmon.’ Maybe ‘Harmon and Watts’—sounds a little better. Anyway, they’ve got enough to suggest that we’ve been working together and that’s the edge that’ll get to Borgov.”

“If he picks up a paper between tomorrow and Saturday,” Beth clarifies.

“He will. Or somebody’ll do it for him. One of his KGB babysitters, probably. They seem like they’d be gossips. But Borgov’ll hear about it and the mention of your name will put the fear of god into him.”

“Oh, it will, will it?”

“No question.” He halts and looks at her seriously. “You mind if we find someplace quiet to sit down for a minute?”

She checks her watch, the cracked glass face long ago replaced.

“Yeah, you’ve got a few minutes, but wouldn’t you prefer to go in and, how did you put it? Breathe down the neck of your competitors?”

“Cute, but I’m a little worried I’d be sick down the neck of my competitors.” He squeezes his eyes shut momentarily. “Ugh, that plane ride.”

“But there wasn’t any turbulence!”

“Beth, please. Don’t even say the word.”

He plays two games that day, with enough turnaround time in between that they go for a walk and she takes a few non-press photographs of him in front of attractive backdrops. Behaving like real tourists seems to distract him. Benny even allows Beth to charm him into surrendering the end of his sandwich so she can use the bread to feed the little birds in a park they walk through.

The following day, the schedule tightens up. Lesser players are vanquished and Benny is presented with more people to beat, each one smug from their recent win until Benny shuffles things around on the board with exchanges so swiftly conceived and executed that it might be sleight of hand, one complex magic trick until—ta da!—he’s hemmed their king. He’s fucking brilliant, Beth thinks as she observes him, occasionally shaking her head in amazement. Her pulses races each time he sits down across from someone with a look on his face like, I hope you’ve made peace with your god. They screened too many movies of a biblical bent at Methuen. Prayer and faith certainly never lifted her high, but watching Benny does.

The next day is the second to last and Benny plays once, in the morning, with adjournments and the deciding of third and fourth place of the tournament in the afternoon. Winning his game isn’t anything special to him; he was always looking ahead, intending to square off against Borgov. In Benny’s style, Beth considers, it’d be a gunslinger draw at high noon. In Borgov’s (via Benny’s perception of him), Van Helsing advancing on a crypt with a garland of garlic bulbs and a raised crucifix.

She sits patiently with him in their hotel room. Unlike the night before they departed from Germany, he isn’t stressed. He’s calm. Beth asks if he’d rather stretch his legs, go find some of his friends that played at this tournament (and lost) and talk to them, work the room in a way that simultaneously captivates her and makes her roll her eyes. No. He prefers to stay with her. They sprawl on the bed and play out a couple of his slickest games, then the last twenty moves of the ‘68 Moscow final: Borgov v. Harmon.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he says softly, when she’s dozing with her head on her arm. He’s been staring at the board in silence for a long time.

“Are you sure?” Beth yawns before continuing, “I could order up some coffee?”

Benny’s already gathering the pieces and folding the board.

“You can’t do any more for me than you’ve done, and I can’t learn any more tonight than I have.”

“You’re prepared,” she agrees. That might not be quite what he meant, but she figures even Benny Watts needs a little reassurance.

“For most things he could do.”

Beth pulls her pajamas out from under the pillow on her side of the bed.

“You know how he plays. It’s clean. You just have to keep your eyes open. Borgov isn’t the sort of player to pull something creative out of nowhere.”

“You say that, but once, I had an opponent threaten to kick me in the crotch.”

“Mm, well, that’s not Borgov. Like I said, no creativity.” She watches for a minute as Benny strips his shirt off and flings it onto the chair. “By the way, it wasn’t a threat, it was posed as a question—rhetorical, even philosophical—and only because that opponent felt she wasn’t being taken seriously.”

Benny smiles and walks around the end of the bed. He cradles the back of her head and gives her a slow kiss.

“Will you kick Borgov in the crotch for me if I lose?”

“Now you want me to fight your battles for you? Where was this attitude in Berlin?” She grabs Benny’s butt as he walks back to trade his jeans for pajamas. He turns to look at her inquiringly. “I won’t have to.”

He spends all the next morning proving her right, not succumbing to how Borgov’s pieces shoulder their way across the board. They knock Benny’s aside some, but he hangs in and they adjourn in the afternoon for an after-dinner resumption. Though the reprieve is nearly three hours, they don’t go back to their room. There’s no international call to wait for—every bit of encouragement from their friends was given before they left New York. Benny has a drink with dinner and when that doesn’t loosen him up enough, Beth gets a little fresh under the table as she’s adjusting the napkin in his lap, just until she’s sure he’s in a new mindset.

At seven o’clock, the jacket, the hat, and the man are back in position opposite Borgov. Benny makes the move he sealed earlier, then leans forward by his shoulders. In that gesture, Beth knows Benny’s got him. He confirms it sixteen moves later and Borgov concedes the match in a gracious bow of his head. Benny dawdled a little, not dropping the guillotine blade the way she did with her swift Ohio victory over him, but he’s a different player. An admirer of historic matches, a showman with quick fingers and no better place to be than in front of a chessboard. That’s what she’s always guessed his mentality to be. Where she loves to win, he loves to play.

He rises from the table to a roomful of applause. His eyes find hers and she whistles with her fingers in her mouth, the way he taught her one night in his apartment. The sound is shrill enough over the rest of the noise that the photographer beside her turns to glare and tell her to shut the hell up. He begins to apologize when he recognizes her, but Beth shakes her head impatiently and points past him.

“Don’t look at me,” she says. “Look at him.”

[phoenix-downer]

Circling Penelope

Sora/Kairi. Post-canon. Angst, romance, hope. Based off of the Odyssey. 3000 words. 

Time didn’t have any meaning anymore, and the usual boundaries between waking and sleep and death had all been blurred together. That meant Sora had no break, no relief from his thoughts. And they traveled to Kairi almost constantly.

He pulled her lucky charm out of his pocket and stared at it. How many weeks and months had passed in the Realm of Light? How many days and nights had she spent waiting for him to return to her like he said he would, only to be disappointed because he still wasn’t home yet?

“Kairi, I’ll come back to you, I promise,” he said as he stroked the shell that had his face on it. 

The Final World was endless though. He was on a journey that had no clear path. Sure, the destination was obvious, but how to get there was the real question. His wanderings just took him through endless memories and shifting tides of scenery. A meandering odyssey with no way of knowing how to get back to his Penelope. 

“Just once, I’d like to see her again. Just once. Is that really so hard?” he asked no one in particular. All he got was silence in response, same as ever. Sighing, he kept walking forward, and ripples spread out from underneath him. One foot in front of the other in the hopes that it really would bring him a step closer to home. A step closer to her. 

“Sora…” came a voice from far away. Her voice.  

He perked up. “Kairi? Is that you?”

He sped up, and the scenery around him began to shift. The water beneath him swelled and pulsed till it formed waves pulled by some invisible moon. The sands of the Play Island rolled in, and the familiar trees and shack and waterfall all sprang into existence. It was like watching a popup book come to life, a realm from some happy fairytale. 

And best of all, someone very important was here, standing on the shore facing away from him. She turned, and her entire face lit up when she saw him. 

“Sora!” 

“Kairi!”

He broke into a run, not caring that the waves were doing their best to keep them apart. The water sloshed all around him as he tried his best to reach her, and she likewise ran towards him. Right when he was about to reach shore though, he halted. Darkness was swirling around her feet. Was this really his Kairi, or was it just another illusion? 

“Sora?” she asked, tilting her head, her eyes questioning, curious. 

“You’re not real,” he said, hanging his head as he fought the awful sinking feeling in his stomach. “The real Kairi doesn’t have any darkness in her.” 

She stared at him, unblinking. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“You’re still a Princess of Heart. That means you’re not like me. You don’t have darkness in you like I do.”

“But I’ve had plenty of reason to grow darkness in my heart. Losing my heart, getting kidnapped, getting broken into pieces… and being abandoned by you.” 

He clenched his fists. “Kairi, you know I never wanted to leave you—”

“But you did.” 

He just stared at her. His own heart felt like someone was stabbing it with a knife as tears filled her eyes. He never wanted to be the reason she cried. 

“Why do you keep abandoning me?” she asked, her lower lip trembling and her voice quaking.

“I haven’t abandoned you!” he cried. “This is just a temporary separation, I promise!” 

“You’re dead, and nothing you can do can change that. Which means… you can’t keep your promise.” 

“Kairi, I swear I won’t let anything stand in the way of us being together anymore.” 

He really, truly meant it. He was sick of not following through for her. He was tired of everything else getting in the way, like he and Kairi were forever doomed to be apart. 

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Then prove it to me. Come ashore.” 

She held her hand out, and he tensed. The darkness was still swirling around her feet. How did he know this wasn’t just some trick? What if going ashore and taking this Kairi’s hand doomed him to be separated from the real Kairi? 

Was this even a fake Kairi? Maybe it was the real deal. Maybe this was some side of Kairi that she didn’t let anyone else see. 

“Kairi, I—”

She lowered her hand. “It’s okay. This is what you do best. Leave me behind to fulfill your duty to everyone else.” 

Her words were full of bitterness. Another stab to his heart.  

“I told you, I’m not gonna live like that anymore! You’re my priority now.” He took a deep breath. “And by ‘you,’ I mean the real you. This is just an illusion, it has to be. I have to get back to the real Kairi.”  

“What if this is how you’ll get back to me? What if this is your only chance?” 

“It can’t be.”

“But what if it is? Which would you prefer, an eternity of solitude spent looking for me, or getting to be with me here and now?” 

He stared at her, took in the way the breeze blew through her red hair, how the sun made her eyes shine. She looked so small, standing on the beach all alone. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her. Wanted to make up for abandoning her and leaving her behind. 

“You’re lonely,” she said softly. “So lonely you can hardly bear it. No one is meant to be alone, least of all you. Your journey has been long and hard, and you deserve to rest.”

Rest. What he wouldn’t give to finally sleep. He hadn’t been able to, not since he got here. 

“Sora, please, stay with me. Even if it’s only for a little while.”

“I guess… a little while wouldn’t hurt.”

She finally smiled again. “No, it wouldn’t. Just a short break before you continue on your journey.” 

A short break sounded nice. He hadn’t had much of one in a long time. 

He took a step closer. 

She held her arms out, and he wanted to hug her really badly now. “I told you, remember?” she said with her classic Kairi charm. “You’re safe with me.” 

“Safe with you, yeah.” 

He took a few more steps. A hug would be really, really nice. It had been way too long since he’d felt the warmth of another person. And to go so long without her warmth—

He broke into a run and flung himself into her arms. Hugging her was as good as he remembered. He ran his hand over her hair and pulled her as close as possible. Whatever the danger might be, this was more than worth the risk. 

“I’m back,” he said, glad at last to be reunited with her. But she was oddly silent.

“Kairi?” he asked, leaning back a little to search her face. Why hadn’t she given him her usual return greeting? 

“I’m glad we’re together again,” she said with a smile. A nagging thought at the back of his mind told him this was wrong, this was all wrong, and yet… he couldn’t bring himself to leave. 

She reached for his hand. “Come with me.” 

He let her lead him towards the Secret Place before taking one final look behind him. The sea stretched into the horizon, and he thought he heard his name rolling in with the tide.

Then Kairi squeezed his hand, and he turned to look at her. “Coming!” he promised, and the rest of his hesitation melted away. 

So long as he and Kairi were together, everything would be fine. 

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

Being with Kairi was as good as he’d imagined. He’d missed talking to her, hanging out with her, seeing her smile, hearing her laughter. They had all the time in the worlds now to themselves, just like he’d always wanted. They spent hours together on the Play Island, doing things they’d done as kids and revisiting nostalgic memories. 

And yet… this nagging voice at the back of his mind still wouldn’t leave him alone. Everything was right and good except for that. 

“Sora?” Kairi asked with a frown as he stared out at the sea. The two of them were making a sandcastle like they always used to with… with… 

“Where’s everyone else? The other people we used to hang out with, I mean.” 

“We’re together, that’s all that matters.” 

She added another bucket’s worth of sand to the castle like that settled the issue. 

“Yeah, I know, but… don’t you think it’s weird that we’re the only people here? And I can’t… I can’t remember our friends’ names.” 

He frowned. Something like this had happened before. His memories had gotten all mixed up. But that time it was his memories of Kairi that he’d lost. This was… the opposite?

“How come I’m having trouble remembering them, but I can remember you just fine?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen them. Maybe that’s why?”

“It hasn’t been that long, has it?”

 “Almost a year, I think. It’s okay, people fall out of touch when they don’t see each other.”

“A year?!” he demanded. “I’ve been here for an entire year?” 

She put her hand on his arm. “You’ve been with me for almost an entire year,” she said sweetly. “That’s the longest we’ve been together in a long time.”

“Shouldn’t our friends be here? Where are they?”

Her perfect mouth twisted into a pout. “Are you saying I’m not good enough for you?” 

“No, that’s not it at all! I just—”

She scooted away from him, a wounded look on her face. “You want to leave me behind again, don’t you?” 

“Kairi, never, I never want to leave you—”

“But you do. I’m not good enough anymore. You can’t keep your promise after all.” 

She buried her face in her hands, and his heart sank. He hadn’t meant to make her unhappy. He was just wondering where everyone else was.

“I will keep my promise,” he said softly as he put his arm around her. “I’ll stay with you, always and forever.” 

Her face brightened, and she leaned against him. “Thank you, Sora. I know I can always count on you.”

He smiled, but it felt kinda fake, even for him. He would keep his promise, but… the nagging at the back of his mind hadn’t gotten any better. In fact, it had gotten worse. This place was wrong. He felt it on such a gut level that he knew this whole situation couldn’t be okay. 

But being with Kairi? That felt right. He could ignore the wrongness a little longer if it meant being with her. 

The voice whispering over the waves was so faint he barely heard it anymore.

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

Sora was frolicking in the sea with Kairi today. He never swam out far because it made her upset, but they enjoyed swimming in the shallows together. They were enjoying a vigorous game of “splash me” when something bumped up against his leg. 

A bottle? He lifted it out of the water to get a closer look. When he glanced around, Kairi was still safely underwater. There was a letter inside the bottle, and he pulled it out. 

Sora, 

You’re trapped in an endless dream. None of what you’re seeing is real, and you have to get away from the phantom. She’s the one keeping you there, and you’ll never be free so long as you’re under her spell. 

The letter wasn’t signed. Sora’s hand shook a little as he tried to come to grips with what it said. 

“I’m… trapped?”

“What’s that? A letter?” 

He yelped and jumped in the air. Kairi was right behind him now, peering over his shoulder. He dropped the letter into the water, and she frowned and fished it out. 

“Huh? It’s blank.”

Sure enough, the message was gone like it had never even been there. Sora took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then looked at Kairi. 

“Weird, huh? Guess it was just a prank.”

“Guess so.” 

He tossed the bottle back into the water and followed her to shore. But this time, the voice coming over the waves was a little louder, and he couldn’t get what the letter had said out of his head.

Was he really trapped? 

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

The bottles kept coming. The letters inside all had variations of the same message, and the writing always disappeared by the time Kairi noticed and tried to read them. 

“This really is strange,” she said with an airy laugh. “Letters without any message? Who would send those? And so many, too.”

“I don’t know,” Sora said, “but it’s really freaking me out.”

He didn’t tell her why, of course. If the letter-writer was telling the truth, if he really was trapped here because the person he thought was Kairi really wasn’t Kairi at all, then spilling the beans was a terrible idea. He couldn’t tip her off that something was wrong because then she might try to stop him from leaving.

And something was wrong. He could feel it in the depths of his soul, in the deepest parts of his heart. The nagging thought at the back of his head had gotten more and more insistent. He had to figure out a way out of here, and soon.

When she was getting supplies from the Seaside Shack one afternoon, the answer presented itself in the form of yet another bottle. The letter inside was different this time.

Come home to me, please.

Kairi 

The answer he’d been waiting for, ever since he’d arrived here and told this Kairi “I’m back.” The right answer, the true answer, the answer the real Kairi would’ve given him. These messages were from her. They had been all along. 

The world around him spun and he felt sick to his stomach. How long had he made her wait, and all for an illusion? An illusion that had promised him comfort in his loneliness and desperation, but an illusion nonetheless. He’d sold the real Kairi out with hardly a fight because he was that easily swayed. That easily deceived.

No, that wasn’t true. He’d known he was being deceived. He’d just enjoyed the deception so much he’d played along with it for a while. But he couldn’t anymore. He just couldn’t. This fake, this illusion, couldn’t compare to the real Kairi, and he wanted to be reunited with her as soon as possible. No more making her wait. Not for one more second.

He tucked Kairi’s letter into his pocket. Even if the writing faded, this was proof he was doing the right thing. Every step closer was a step closer to home. A step closer to Kairi. 

“Sora?” the illusion asked from behind him, and he froze.

When he turned his head, she was there, her eyes staring at him, unblinking. A smile was plastered on her face, but he shuddered as he stared at her. How had he ever thought this was the real Kairi? Whatever this was, it was so cold, so empty, so fake. 

“I’m leaving,” he said. “I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me.” 

She tilted her head. “But you promised. You promised you’d stay.”

“I promised Kairi I would be with her. Not you.” 

“But I am Kairi.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re just a fake. An illusion. You’ve kept me away from her long enough.” 

Her lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “You’re really leaving me? But you’ll be all alone. I never wanted you to be alone.” 

“I won’t be alone. I’ll be back with Kairi.” 

She shook her head. “We’ll both be alone. Don’t leave me, please.” 

As he watched her cry, his stomach twisted itself into knots. A part of him wanted to comfort her, even though he knew it was a fake. 

It was a fake, right?

But her tears… those were real enough. 

He sighed and retraced his steps, then wrapped his arms around her as she cried. Fake or not, he couldn’t stand to see any version of Kairi cry.

She sniffed and leaned back a little, then cupped his cheek.

“You’re right. I’m not the real Kairi. But you’ve been so kind to me… so good to me… that I couldn’t help but want to be with you.” 

Before he could react, she was standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips against his. A soft, gentle kiss of farewell. This much he would allow her. He didn’t stop her because his compassion got the better of him. He would go home to the real Kairi, that much was certain. But he couldn’t begrudge even a fake Kairi a moment of comfort. It just went against every feeling of tender compassion he held for her in his heart. 

“Now go, find your Kairi,” she said sadly. “She’s waiting for you.” 

He nodded, then turned away from her and faced the sea. He knew he couldn’t look back. No matter how difficult it was, he had to keep moving forward. Only then would he and Kairi be reunited. 

As he waded into the sea again, the voice on the waves was louder now. It was all around him, and he knew he recognized it. 

It was Kairi’s. It had been all along. She’d been guiding his way home, even when he’d gotten lost.

“I’m coming, Kairi,” he said as the water got deeper. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you, but I’ll be home soon, I promise.” 

With that he dove underwater, ready to meet her no matter how long the journey, no matter how much time it took to find her. Seeing her again would be worth every step, and for her, he would travel the entire universe if that was what it took.  

She was his home, and no matter what happened, that would never change.

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

A/N: Charlie requested a kiss prompt between Phantom!Kairi and Sora, so this fic is dedicated to her! Originally the prompt was set in her Blight Sora AU as per her request, but then it kind of took on a life of its own and made its way into some unspecified period during Limit Cut. A big thank you for the prompt! It was really interesting exploring Kairi’s abandonment issues and Sora’s guilt over (very much unwillingly) leaving her behind again in more depth. 

I’d also like to thank @rapis-razuri​ for her help; she gave me the suggestion that I go for a Circe-and-Odysseus kind of a vibe when I hit a rut, and she also came up with the title. It’s a pun on Circe’s name and also ties into the whole “Sora = Odysseus” and “Kairi = Penelope” idea that’s been kicking around our brains for a while. If you think about it, the story after KH3 is an odyssey of sorts for Sora... and Kairi as well, based on how Re:Mind and Limit Cut went. 

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! This marks the final kiss prompt I was requested to write! If you’d like to read the other ones, they are “A kiss to pretend,” “A good morning kiss,” “A kiss on a falling tear,” “A kiss in secrecy,” “A kiss in public,” “A kiss out of necessity/A kiss to wake up,” “A kiss for luck,” and “A kiss because the world is ending” plus its follow-up chapters. 

[pretendrocketships]

To Be So Lonely

Part 1: Fine Line

A/N: 5.7k overload of angst. I’m so sorry. song pairings while you read.

About: Part Two of Fine Line. You’re juggling your heart, your boyfriend’s, and Shawn’s. And one ball has to drop. 

Song: To Be So Lonely by Harry Styles

--

Two weeks ago ago. No one talked about it. No one knew. You stayed quiet, and so did he. Charlie kissed you like nothing was wrong. Brian opened your beers like nothing happened, and then there was Shawn. Shawn walked around, wrote music, and smiled politely like he never walked down into that basement in the first place. “Charlie!” you called running down the stairs in one of his long button downs. You reached up, and attempted to reach the top shelf, your efforts in vain, due to your height. “Charlie! We’re out of Nutella, and you put the peanut butter on the highest shelf!” You got on your tip-toes, causing Charlie's blue striped shirt to raise higher and higher. You felt something move behind you and saw a pale arm sneak up behind you and grab a jar of Nutella and peanut butter. 

“He um, he hides the second jar.” 

“Jesus, fucking hell, Shawn! You scared the shit out of me!” you said jumping and clutching your chest. He laughed a little. His lips didn’t move, but you could tell he was smiling. 

“You’re such a wimp.” You shoved him. 

“Shut up, you bully. He scoffed. 

“Bullying you? You can’t be serious.” You smiled and shoved him. Then he smiled, an actual smile. 

“Babe! It’s right on the top!” It was gone. His smile vanished as soon as it came. Charlie walked down his tight, black boxers. He came over and kissed your temple. “See babe, you got it.” You smiled and kissed him. 

“No, uh. Shawn got them for me,” you said shifting your weight between your feet. No one had to say anything for it to be awkward. How could it not be, both men in front of you, wanted you. And not in the romantic movie way every producer seemed to think girls dream about, but in the real way where whatever choice you made hurt someone. Shawn nodded once and went back to his book. He had been reading a lot recently. If he put his eyes on the pages, he didn’t have to watch Charlie grab your ass. “Charlie!” you exclaimed. “Not now,” you whispered blushing. Shawn cleared his throat and closed his book.

“Gonna check on my laundry,” he said excusing himself and disappearing from view. 

“Look what you did, Charlie,” you said, turning back to your food. Charlie waved his hand 

“Whatever, he’s fine.” You turned from him and started abusing your poor piece of bread with a ridiculous amount of Nutella. His fingers danced up and down your waist, and he kissed your neck. “Why does he even matter? He probably just wants to finish his book or whatever.” You cocked your head to the side, accidentally allowing him easier access to your neck. 

“H-have you noticed him acting weird lately?” His teeth grazed your neck. Little marks appeared up and down any available skin Charlie could find. He shrugged, paying more attention to your skin than your words. 

“Maybe, might be about the girl he fucked last night,” he said nonchalantly. You sprang back. 

“W-what? what? What girl did he fuck last night?” You sprung away from him, searching his eyes, waiting for him to laugh and say he was joking. He looked at you strangely. You deserved that much. 

“Um, not sure? Brian just said he heard a girl’s laugh coming from his room and he put on his headphones after that.” You looked down at your shoes. Charlie smirked and pushed you against the counter. “You could go ask him-” you started to move away, but he pulled you back,”later, babe. After I'm finished.” His lips danced over your skin, but all you could think about was Shawn. You knew he said to forget it, that it was only one time he needed, but you couldn’t just forget that night. How could he forget it? How did he do it? You wished you could keep that night out of your mind . He would never know you thought about it while you were watching tv or picking up groceries. Charlie kissed your neck and his hands danced over your stomach and legs. Charlie was touching you, but all you could think about was Shawn. The fantasies played over and over in your head. Was Shawn a cuddler? I mean of course he’d held you when you tried to learn to skateboard, despite your horrid balance. He’d held you in excitement when you thought you were moving up at your job. He caught you when you fell in his arms, as you were overlooked for someone who didn’t deserve that promotion half as much as you did. These memories flooded your mind, along with questions about how he would hold you when you were in love, fully and without restraints. 

Fuck, maybe he forgot it. He acted like he did. He said so many things that night that you didn’t have time to process. You didn’t have enough time to even think about a response to what he said, until now. If Shawn had told you all this earlier, would you be wearing Shawn’s band shirts instead of Charlie’s button down?

”Seriously,” Brian said, shaking his head. “You guys are always at it,” he said plopping himself down at the bar. 

“Why are you all in my house again?” Charlie asked annoyed that he had to pull away from you. You averted your attention to the ground, counting the tiles that lined the floor. 

“You forget we’re all staying here? Staying close since (Y/N) has been away so long?” Brian reminded. “It’s like you don’t even remember half the shit you say,” Brian muttered under his breath. They both kept talking, but you couldn’t focus for the life of you.

“(Y/N)?” Charlie nudged you. “Babe?” You blinked and looked up at him. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes were spaced, clearly exposing the fact that you were not there mentally.

“Brian was talking to you, babe.” Fuck you, in your head again. You turned to Brian with a small smile. 

“What’d you say? Sorry.” Brian laughed. 

“S’alright. What time did you go to bed last night?” Charlie grabbed you by the waist and nipped at your jaw. 

“Not till late.” 

“Oh god,” Brian said, cringing at what Charlie hinted at. Truth is, you hadn’t, not since the night you and Shawn shared. You could see how frustrated Charlie was getting. Finally had a break from both of your lives putting you in the same place, on the same wavelength, and the one thing he wanted didn’t want him back. The less responsive you got, the more he touched you and bragged to the boys. You moved his hands off you, signaling him to put an end to the public show. It’s as if Shawn knew you were done putting on an act. He came sauntering down the stairs and made himself at home again, quietly, nose buried in the fridge.

“Well, what I was saying was. The vibe in the house is all wrong. I don’t know exactly what it is,” he said, eyes darting to you, “But! I plan on fixing it. Family game night! Just like we used to! And attendance,” he said, looking at Shawn this time, “is mandatory.” 

“Yes! Oh, yes! You’re all about to get your ass kicked,” Charlie cheered. 

“Bring your worst,” Matt said. When did he even walk in? You were more lost in your thoughts than you realized. Brain was, not so secretly, looking at you and Shawn, neither of you sharing any excitement. 

.

Game night was awkward, but you’re not really sure what you expected. “Oh come ON. That is so not fair!” Matt groaned as Charlie slapped him with another +4 card. 

Between passing cards and beers, things were starting to feel like they could be okay, like you could laugh without feeling everyone’s eyes on you, silently asking which boy you were in love with. You lost. Every. Single. Game. But you being able to feel your shoulders relax around the people closest to you felt nice. It felt nice to not feel on edge for a while. 

“I told you that you were going to get your ass kicked, not sure why you didn’t believe me,” Charlie said with a soft laugh, while taking a swig of his beer. He pulled you close and pressed a kiss to your temple. “See baby, you’re dating a winner.” You forced a small smile up at him and looked back down at your cards. Shawn rolled his eyes. He saw through you in a way Charlie wouldn’t even try to. 

“Remember how I said uno? HA!” Brain yelled as he slammed his last card down, dancing and prancing around the table like he had just won the lotto. 

“HOW THE FUCK!” Charlie roared, his eye flaring wildly around the room, searching for some sort of explanation. Brian was still gloating, not giving a damn in the world about Charlie’s temper. “He cheated! He must have cheated!” he said, arms pointing at the table, eyes locked on Brian.

“Oh, give it a rest, mate. Ya lost a friendly game of uno, you’ll live.” Brian said, annoyance seeping through his smile. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” he said, swatting at Brian, finally allowing himself to laugh at his loss. “Well I’m going to cry myself to sleep. G’night everyone!” he said with a nod. He leaned down to your level to plant a kiss on your lips, a kiss sweeter than everyone needed to see. “Night, baby.” Brian raise his eyebrows at the situation and sprung up himself.

“Yeah, tired! Yawn, goodnight!” Brian said while leaving the room.

“Brian. . . you literally said yawn! You didn’t even yawn!” you fussed as suddenly you realize everyone left the room for you and Shawn to clean up. You’re not sure if it’s on purpose or not, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t slightly hoping for time alone. You need to act on it.

“I’ll wipe down. You do the dishes?” you asked sheepishly, turning to face Shawn. He nods and turns his attention from you and turns around to start the dishes.

“Sounds good.” God, was it silent. You wanted this time alone with him to talk about all that happened, but you didn’t know how to start the conversation. What's the right way to say “hey I know you told me you loved me and I didn’t say it back and like I didn’t know it then but maybe I wanna revisit that?” You wished you could come out and say it, but you're too nervous. 

“So, are we going to talk, or are you going to keep staring at my ass?” You laugh, thankful that he knows you need him to break the tension, need him to be the one to make the first move. 

“I feel like i keep nagging you with the same questions, but why are you avoiding me?” He laughs, like you’ve said the funniest yet stupidest thing in the world.

“Well isn't it obvious?” Not being able to read his mind was killing you. 

“We ever going to talk about it? Or am I that easy for you to forget?” you tried to joke, but you both knew the words stung coming out of your mouth. He went back to vigorously washing the same dish. 

“Didn't forget,” he mumbled. “Just didn't have anything to say.” You laughed, a bitterness lacing the sound.

“That night you couldn't wait to shut me up, but now you have nothing to say? Brilliant.” You were mad, with no right to be, but you needed him to ask one more time. You needed him to give you the option again. “Shawn,” you said sternly. He ignores you, and recently, it’s becoming more common. You try again, louder this time. 

“I know it did.”  What the fuck? He answered a question you didn’t even ask out loud. “I know what you’re thinking; you don’t have to say it.” He lowered his voice this time. “That night, it messed us up,” he shook his head. “I would have never been so selfish if I knew what it was going to do to us.” You gripped the counter, tension flowing throughout your body.

“Don’t.” you barely managed to get out through a clenched jaw. “Don’t say that.” He finally looked up from his cup to stare into your eyes. Confusion. It was written all over his face.

“What? What does that even mean, (y/n)?” His voice sounded tired and annoyed all at once. “What now? You wanna talk?” he says throwing the rag in a full sink, water and bubbles splashing everywhere. “Fine,” his long legs allow a quick stride to the table. The chair screams against the floor as he motions for you to sit. “Sit, let's talk then.” You look at him a while before sitting. He’s playing with his hands, the distraction forcing his mind to stop racing and calm down, something you've seen him do time and time again. 

“Shawn,” you tried. 

“It’s like you forget that I know you. Forget that I’m always checking up you, even when if you realize that or not. Like I didn’t see you deleted most of your pictures with Charlie on Facebook, like i didn’t notice you took down your relationship status.” You looked at him, mouth agape. He shot you a look that told you to not even think of interjecting him right now. “I know it doesn’t say single, but it doesn’t say in a relationship anymore either. You can’t tell me that means nothing.” He was pleading with you at this point, wishing you would give in. Silence hushed the room. 

“I can’t.” He almost would have missed your whisper, if he didn't hang onto every word you said. His eyes lit up, full of the hope that only those two words could bring. His eyes are big, blown out and asking for you to let him into your mind. 

“Please --” he’s begging, proper begging now. He just needs to hear it. It’s your turn to hold your hand up. You need a minute to make your heart start racing.

“ Shawn, I,” you trailed off, head tucked into your shoulder. He waited, his smile slowly faltering. He’s not far off from breaking down, right there in front of you. He rests his eyes for a minute, ready to swallow the last bit of pride he didn’t even know he had. 

“You already know I love you, but I can--” He paused to think. He gets up from his chair and moves to the other side of the kitchen. You give him a second before shyly removing yourself from your chair to join him. “I can show you what love is supposed to feel like. I can show you what it looks like when someone thinks about you before they think about themselves.” Suddenly, he has you pressed against the fridge, lips trailing along your outside of your ear. “I can show you how it’s supposed to feel; how your body’s supposed to feel when the right person is pressing up on it.” His hands are sliding down your arms and instinctively you’re pushing back on him. His lips ghost your neck. “See this? This is the reaction Charlie should be fighting for, fighting for your body to react to every little thing he does. But I don’t want it.” He said, pulling away, moving to make you look into his eyes. “Unless you’re willing to give me the real thing. I deserve that. I deserve security and answers and a girl who wants me back.” He looks at you, eyes searching, and again, he’s left you at a loss for words. You’re not saying anything, and his resolve is breaking. The silence that fills the room if familiar and deafening.  He’s not sure he could’ve heard you over his own racing thoughts. He sighs, sad, and turns to walk away.

“I love you alright!” 

“What?” He doesn't sound happy.

“I said it. I love you.” 

“Oh.” He stops. His eyebrows scrunch up like he’s trying to figure out a math equation. “Okay.”

“What the--? I just told you I love you? Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for me to say?” He spins around quickly, suddenly invading your space. 

“No, this isn't what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear you realized it was me all along. I wanted to hear you say you were scared to jump, and that's why you were with Charlie, but you’re ready to be brave now. I wanted to hear,” this time his hands gripped yours “I wanted to hear that your body,” his hands now clutched your waist and lower back “only melts for me now. You didn't say any of that, you just said you loved me because you thought that's what I needed to hear.” He dropped all contact with you. “What I don’t need is a lie. What I needed was you.” Needed. That hurt. You felt like you were trying to grab air. You didn't know how to say what you wanted to say, so you just said it. 

“I think about you! All the time. In my fucking sleep, in the shower, in every day dream,” you whimpered at the end, causing him to look at you with wild eyes. It was like he was hearing his inner thoughts be read aloud. You continued. “I, I never thought about us like that, okay? Not for real. I thought you were complimenting me bc we were friends, holding me because you had to. I didn’t think you loved me like that, ok? When you said it that night of the party, I thought it was the alcohol, but then I noticed. Fuck, I thought back and started to see it, I started to believe it.” you slumped into the dining room chair, head in your hands. Was that? Sniffling? Oh, he did not just hear crying.  

“Honey,” he started while placing a hand on your shoulder. You shrugged him off. 

“No, you did this!” he moved back, his head jerking in confusion. 

“What?” 

“Yes, you! If you would have just told me how you felt earlier--” His boisterous laugh cut you off 

“Me? This is my fault?” he smiled as he removed your hands from your face. 

“Are you really going to laugh at me while I’m trying to tell you I love you?” Yup, that did it. His heart was shot. No matter how strong, he wouldn't dream of removing cupid's arrow for the life of him. “I love the way you laugh, your stupid curls, feeling birds at the park, listening to you write songs, you always forgetting to refile the toilet paper in the bathroom, and every fucking stupid thing you’ve done since we met, okay? I. Love. You.” He was beaming, truly thought his cheeks would rip. “But,” his smile faltered. It didn't fade, but faltered. “But, I need time. To work out my thoughts, to tell Charlie, to find a new place, since we live together. I’m still saying I love you, but I do need time.” He looked down to his shoes, pondering bouts of new information. 

“Time, I can give you.” his hand was cupping your damp cheek and soothing away any remaining tears. “I can let you figure things out, but this doesn’t change the fact that I deserve someone who loves me. I can’t have you rip out my heart one day and then offer to put it back together, while you’re still holding the knife.” He had always been open to sharing the love and joy you gave him, but this was your first glimpse of the pain you caused. It made you wince. He felt you recoil and moved your chair closer. “I’m not,” he paused, “I'm not saying I need an answer tomorrow, but I do need an answer. You can’t keep us both, honey. And a part of me feels like shit for making you choose, but for me, for yourself, you gotta choose.” You nodded, not thinking you’d feel so nad during what's supposed to be a fairy tale ending for the both of you. You pawed at your face and got up from the chair. 

“Well I uh, I have to finish cleaning up here, so.” He rolled his eyes playfully. You missed that. 

“Go up stairs. You’ve always been bad at dishes anyway.” He fake swats at you with the dish rag, and you wished you could laugh. “We’ll get through this alright? No matter what you decide, we’ll see it through.” With that, you trudged up the stairs to let your thoughts flow freely inside the confines of your room.

.

Two weeks. You went two weeks without talking about that night. Secrets became the staple of your relationship, the lying and silence became customary. Charlie was happy to have your attention, and Matt was too oblivious to notice. That left Brian to bounce back and forth between you two. Ever since that night, you needed the house filled. You needed a distraction. You needed people around so you could get time to just think about how to move forward, to think without Charlie’s hands all over you. Everyone having a good time should have made you feel better. It didn’t. 

“You never told me what happened after game night,” Brian said, handing you a beer. You never really liked the taste, but it’s the only thing that made you talk without restrictions. 

“N-nothing happened.” Hiccup. Sip. “Talked.” You felt Brian getting annoyed that no one would let him in on what was going on. You needed to get out. Yup. You knew you were fucked up, and you needed out of this conversation before you let something slip that you couldn’t take back. Brian shook his head and took his own sip. 

“Something happened, so please stop lying and fucking enlighten me.” You got up and threw your empty bottle into the pile and got up. 

“Thanks for the beer.” You shot him a lazy smile and slid off the chair. His arm launched for you as you lost your footing. “F-fine! I’m fine,” you said, shooting Brian another signature smile. You were over socializing, you just wanted to fall asleep to the soft lull of the party and escape in your thoughts. You started the trek up the stairs to your room, ignoring Brian’s calls for you. God, were you annoyed. These railings wouldn’t stop attacking your sides. God, these stairs seemed much longer when your head was buzzing. You stumbled before you could reach the last step. Arms caught you before you could reach the ground. “W-what the fuck?” you slurred. 

“Shh, s'alright.” Familiar arms went to reach around your waist and pulled you to your feet. 

“W-what?” you mumbled, too intoxicated to understand anything that was going on. You felt yourself flying, no, getting carried from the hallway and into a dark room, dimly lit by tiny lights adorning the walls.  

“I’ve got you, just-“ he sighed and sat you on the bed. You blinked, over and over, to try and identify the blurry face in front of you. His finger ghosted over your face. He sighed, shaking his head. You felt something tugging at the bottom of your shirt. The hands pulled your shirt off and quickly slipped on another shirt. You didn’t feel eyes on your skin, and that’s because he wasn’t looking.vIt’s been weeks, and he didn’t even look. He started slipping off your shorts, and you played with the bottom of the black t-shirt. He turned to the dresser to fold your clothes. 

“Billie Eilish,” you mumbled, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric between your fingers. 

“Yeah, she’s your favorite, right? Am I wrong? Did it change?” He asked as if he didn’t know. He asked as if you both didn’t know that you talked about Billie to him for hours in bed with him some nights. Well, before. 

“You don’t like her,” you pointed out, still staring at the black fabric. He rested himself against the dresser, staring at you in the mirror. 

“You know I bought it for you.” Listening to him made you sober up, a little. You smiled and closed your eyes. He smiled too, just for a second. He walked over to you, pulled the covers down and slid your legs under them. “Time to sleep, (Y/N).” You nodded drowsily and moved completely under the covers. He pulled the covers up to your chin, and you pulled them down. He sighed, but you could have sworn you saw a little smile. You closed your eyes, and your head rolled to the side. You felt a pair of warm lips touch your forehead.You smiled and imagined he did too. Your chest rose and fell seven times before you felt yourself being pulled into a block of warmth. 

Morning. Fuck. Your head burned, and the light stung. Your mind was fucked from the liquor. You were alone, no one around to ask just how big your bottle pile was last night. Was someone actually in your room last night? Or did you dream that up too? You dreamt you won the lotto. That for sure was a dream, but you weren’t sure the boy was. If you squeezed your eyes shut, and kept them closed for long enough, you could still feel the warmth wrapped around your body. Your hands made their way to the black, soft fabric of the borrowed t-shirt that hung loosely around your frame. You heard a buzz. You were sure your head just buzzed. You threw your hand out and swatted around until you found the brown bedside table. You yanked the drawer open, and your hand felt around, looking for anything to stop the room from vibrating. You searched to shut the phone off, but instead you found a tiny polaroid. You squinted your eyes open to inspect. A smile crept across your face, as your fingers ghosted over the picture. His arm was thrown around your shoulder and you were smiling a true smile, from ear to ear. Shawn looked so young; you did too. Maybe because things were uncomplicated back then, no sneaking around or secrets: just plain old friends. You closed your eyes, the picture folded up in the palm of your hand, and rolled onto his side of the bed, inhaling his scent and pretending he was there. The buzzing turned into background noise, lulling you back to your dreams.

You woke up again, groggy and still alone. You knew you couldn’t hide from reality any longer, but that didn’t mean facing the truth was any easier. What if. The two words dancing around your mind endlessly, running you in circles. No matter what you did, you felt like you lost. If you chose to stick with Charlie, you don’t have a best friend. Shawn could spew whatever bullshit to everyone else, but not to you. You weren’t the same. You don’t have your best friend, and that was just the truth. You thought Charlie was it; he’s what you can get and it’s not so bad, so you stick with it. Was that wrong? Was it wrong to be afraid to jump into something you didn’t know, without the security of it working out? Charlie wasn’t a bad boyfriend. Charlie wasn’t a villain Shawn was saving you from. Charlie wasn’t bad, he just wasn’t Shawn. If you pick Shawn, you ruin the group dynamic. ‘As if it isn’t already ruined’ you rebut in your head. If you pick Shawn you could have a heart-shattering love that could end a number of unforeseeable ways. Your mind and your mind have never been on further sides. Thinking about it didn’t make it any easier, so you decided to stop thinking about it.

Downstairs. You were downstairs now. As soon as your foot left the last stair of the staircase, you wished you would have slept longer. Your dreams were a safe space to workout your feelings, without exposing your inner thoughts to anyone. The memories soothed any troubles you had floating around in your head. Charlie’s lips were on your neck instantly, and the memories got fuzzy. 

“Morning, sleepy head,” he muttered into your neck, eyes closed and hands instantly tangled in your hair, attempting to pull closer

You could see Shawn watching you from the bar. He raised an eyebrow and continued stirring his tea, that weird lemon ginger shit for his throat, no doubt. You closed your eyes and tried to think of what it would be like if Charlie and Shawn switched places, just for a second. Charlie’s teeth were attempting to leave purple marks on your skin. His teeth sunk into the fantasy, ripping it from your mind. Shawn’s eyes dropped to his tea, his finger catching any tea that laid cold on the rim of the cup. Every mark reminded Shawn of who you were. Not his. Every second you lay in Shawn’s arm showed him what you chose.

“Charlie,” you said quietly, pushing him away.

 “Babe,” he laughed as his tongue darted out and left a slimy trail down your neck.

”Charlie.” You said it louder than you wanted to, louder than you expected. Even Shawn stopped stirring to look up at you. 

“Fucking fine,” he kept grumbling, but you stopped listening after Shawn looked up at you. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked without moving his lips. Charlie stormed away, so it was just you and him. You nodded and stared at him. He made no move to pry and ask how you were feeling. You wish he had. After confirming he was making no move towards you, you began your trek upstairs. Left. Right. Up the stairs until you landed in front of the room. Shawn was right behind you.

 “Hey.” You turned and looked up at him with wide eyes, his voice bringing you out of your thoughts.  

“What?-“ 

“Hey. Uh,” he stuttered, visibly uncomfortable. “I just said hey.” You nodded. 

“Yeah, sorry, hi.” You looked away at the ceiling, down the stairs, at the wall, anything to escape his gaze. You forced yourself to look back up at him, into his eyes. In his eyes, you could see him pinning you against the wall. You could almost feel his breath on your neck. You could feel his grabby hands at your waist. You could imagine his warmth. Snap back to reality, Shawn was inches from your face. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and stroked your cheek with his thumb. 

“You okay?” You closed your eyes, one small touch bringing back every memory of that night. Your eyes locked. Your stomach felt weird, and your heart was beating too fast. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered, not breaking eye contact. 

“Okay,” he said and started to pull away, but before the warmth of his hand left your cheek, you grabbed his bicep. Shit. It got bigger. “(Y/N) ...” he said, staring at your hand on him. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. You let him pull you into his arms. You sniffed, the musky cologne and pizza grease filling your nostrils. 

“Shawn, when’s the last time you changed your shirt?” He laughed. A real one. It vibrated through his whole chest.

 “Dunno, few days or so.” You laughed, a real one too. You cringed and moved away from him. 

“Ew, Shawn, that’s gross!” He laughed and pulled you close to him. “Shawn, stop!” You squealed. He just kept squeezing you closer and closer, until you could feel his heart beat right next to yours. “Shawn! Shawn! Can’t breathe!” He laughed softly. The laughter died down, but a genuine happiness emanated around you. He stared at you a while, eyes soft and kind, asking permission before he closed his eyes and rested his nose on yours. He took a deep breath, and even though your eyes were closed, you thought you could feel him smiling. 

“Hi, (Y/N).” That’s all he said, but it felt like it was something he had been holding back for a while. Your nose rubs against his. 

“Hey, Shawn.” You stood there, legs aching but unable to remove yourself from Shawn, the old Shawn you fell in love with. You grabbed his hand. You didn’t feel a spark, or anything everyone talked about, it just felt familiar. You couldn’t explain what familiar felt like, or that a feeling like that even existed, but Shawn never seemed to fit into anything you knew. When you pulled him closer, you touched his hand, you felt Charlie. You felt the pain he would feel if you allowed yourself to melt into Shawn.You stood there, not knowing what to do and not saying anything. A few more seconds, then you would pull away. A few more seconds had passed. And then a few more. Your hand was on Shawn’s again, or maybe it never left? Your hand pulled on his, leading both of you to his bedroom. You pulled on his arm, but his body never moved. You pulled a little harder. You only needed a few minutes. A few minutes to feel the way his body curled around yours. His feet shuffled, in that awkward way they usually did. “Shawn, c’mon,” you said whining softly. You didn’t want a fight, and quite frankly, you weren’t expecting one. He moved closer to you, bringing you nose and nose once again. 

“Can’t,” he whispered. Your eyes flew open and watched him slowly move to leave a lingering kiss on your temple. He didn’t open his eyes until he was completely turned around. You watched him walk to his room and close the door, you on the other side of it. 

Thank you all for leaving such kind messages and being invested in the story. I appreciate you so much! @tastymendes @alinashawn @shawn-youth @zlamaneserca @starrynight144 @mendesficsxbombay @queenyamimarrero

[authenticcadence18]

30 Questions About Me

THANKS FOR THE TAG @bugaboo-n-bananoir ILY!!!!

(Nick)name: Cadence

gender: cis female

Star sign: Pisces

Height: uhhhhh I am not sure, it’s taller than 5ft at least

Time: night! (Well I wrote most of this last night, but now it’s the evening of the next day!)

Birthday: well I’m a Pisces, so my birthday is between Feb 19th and march 20th!

Fave band/group: Pentatonix! Or For King and Country. Or the piano guys, the vitamin string quartet, Voctave.....also Phineas and the Ferbtones👌

Fave solo artists: I really like Lauren Daigle, and Jackie Evancho used to be my FAVE. Aaand idk if this counts but Michael Giacchino! love his scores, especially the score for Inside Out. There’s also this guy called Clay Kramer on YouTube who makes KK Slider covers of popular music, his stuff gives me so much seratonin😅

Song Stuck in my Head: Well I’m listening to music rn and “I’m Me” from Phineas and Ferb is on so I’ll say that! (I’ll revisit this one when I finish the list and update it with whatever song i’m listening to/is stuck in my head then) (ok the music has since been turned off and now I have “Status Quo” from High School Musical stuck in my head so! There ya go!) (now it is the next day, and I’ve got “when the party’s over” stuck in my head...i think these three songs are an accurate reflection of my taste in music🤣)

Last Movie: uhhhhh oh yeah, The Sorcerer’s Apprentice! It was SO GREAT because Jay Baruchel plays the main character (and the main character is super awkward), so I felt like I was watching Hiccup from the How To Train Your Dragon franchise learn magic and it was GLORIOUS. And also Nicholas Cage is great. And I liked the love interest in the movie as well!! She had a role to play in the story and felt authentic and genuine, which I appreciated!

Last Show: ok well the last show I watched by myself was Phineas and Ferb! Specifically, the episode with the Mardi Gras block party and then the one where Candace and Stacy compete in an obstacle course against Isabella and Ginger (omg wAIT ginger and Stacy are sisters and Isabella and Candace are GOING to be sisters mY HEART I—AH🥺). I hadn’t watched those episodes in forever, so they were really fun to revisit! I think the last actual show I watched was Kids Baking Championship or something, lol. (Those kids are AMAZING. So skilled!)

When i created this blog: November 2019! It was riiiight after the season 3 finale of miraculous aired and absolutely wrecked my emotions. I had some fanfic written that I’d never posted and had been thinking about making a tumblr/ao3 for awhile, and seeing the finale made me finally go, “.....you know what, yeah. The finale is aired, no more spoilers.....it’s time to make a blog.” So I did! And I posted my first fic! And I’m so happy i did :)

What Do I Post: a bunch of multi fandom stuff XD. This blog started off as 90% Miraculous, 10% other fandoms I like...but now it’s just kind of a hodgepoge of my favorite fandoms (with a focus on Phineas and Ferb, lol). I reblog a lot of posts, and then I post original stuff too! I write fanfic, nowadays for Phineas and Ferb but for Miraculous in the past (and probably in the future!), I draw art (mostly Phinabella art because I’ve been drawing them since i was 11 and it feels good to return to my roots), and OCCASIONALLY I will write an analysis post (I’ve got one in the works rn actually 👀), attempt to make a meme, or dip my toe into salt just SLIGHTLY before quickly backing away, lol. If I were to list the fandoms I post about in the order of how frequently I post about them, I’d probably say: Phineas and Ferb, Miraculous....and thennnnn everything else is pretty random and depends on the day, lol.

Last thing i googled: Jay Baruchel 😂. Couldn’t remember how to spell his last name!

Other blogs: this is my only blog! Sometimes I think about making a separate blog for my art and writing, but I am not sure if I should or not....maybe I will someday, but idk. I also have an AO3 for fanfic and an Instagram for art! All are under the name “authenticcadence18.”

Do I get asks: sometimes, yeah!! Sometimes I reblog ask games/prompts and get some asks for those (I’ve got so many prompts in my inbox I want to write/draw things for...ah it’s fine, I’ll get to it eventually😅), and sometimes lovely people will leave thoughts or nice messages in my inbox🥺💕. I’ve got a specific tag for all those nice messages so I can read back over them whenever I need a boost!

Why this url: it’s a music pun! When a song/section of a piece of music ends with a dominant chord resolving to a tonic chord (if you’ve read a certain fic of mine you should know allll about dominant and tonic chords👀🤣), it’s called an authentic cadence! There are different kinds of cadences, and authentic ones are my favorite. One example of this is “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” I also use this blog to be my authentic, fandom-loving self! So I like authentic cadences, and also, I’m Cadence and using this blog to be authentic! Woo! (And 18 is just my favorite number, lol) I’m glad I ended up choosing a name that doesn’t tie to a specific fandom becaaaaaause this ended up being a multi fandom blog!

Following: 232!!

Followers: 292!!! (THANKS SO MUCH Y’ALL ILY 💕)

Average amount of sleep: wellllll for the past week and a half I was sick so I was probably getting 9ish hours a night (because I would sleep in really late, lol). but NOW? In my immediate future? I suspect my average amount of sleep is going to go down because I’m really bad about staying up late even when I have to get up early😅. Hoping to be good about getting at least 7ish hours a night!

Lucky number: 18! But y’all probably already guessed that, lol.

Instruments: my voice, piano, ukulele, viola (but it’s been a HOT minute), aaaand i used to be able to play guitar but then I got a ukulele and forgot all the guitar chords. (I also dabble in songwriting! I primarily use voice and piano when writing music.)

What I’m wearing: my favorite sweatshirt (that was last night, rn I have on a tanktop), some leggings, and socks!

Dream job: I’m currently learning to be a teacher, and I LOVE teaching and working with kids so that is definitely a job I’m really excited about!!! I would also love to portray characters at Disney or something (well, maybe not at Disney because I hear they’re strict, but like....I want to be Rapunzel or Anna or something, that would be so fun). OR, I would LOVE to work in tv animation somehow, be it voice acting, writing scripts/music, and/or story boarding. basically if I could do what Dan and Swampy did for Phineas and Ferb/Milo Murphy’s Law, I would LOVE THAT. (Especially the writing music part. Getting to write music for established characters and get PAID for it would be SO COOL.!.!.!) Also I think it would be so fun to write Disney storybooks! Like, those books that are about Cinderella baking a cake or Ariel befriending a seahorse, stuff like that. Those brought me a ton of joy as a child!

Dream trip: I want to visit alllll the Disney parks someday😅. (Not right now because, ya know, Covid...but someday!)

Fave food: uhhh i really like pizza. And popcorn. Also hummus and guacamole!

nationality: American

Fave songs: “Times” by Tenth Avenue North; “Can’t Help Falling in Love” (I made an entire playlist of just this song when I first started writing my fic of the same name, so I like the original and a ton of covers of it!), “Show Yourself” from Frozen II, “What Might Have Been” from Phineas and Ferb (and lots of other songs from that show, i made a whole post about that once but I can’t find it, oof); “Rescue” by Lauren Daigle; “Thank You” by Pentatonix; “I See the Light” from Tangled; “Your Hands” by JJ Heller; “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran.....i like a loooot of songs so this is just the tip of the iceberg, but I think that’s good for now, LOL! (As soon as I post this I’m going to remember another song I love, lol)

last book: I got the book Unbirthday for Christmas! It’s basically Disney’s Alice in Wonderland, but if she’d never gone to wonderland and things went horribly wrong there. (I think, I’m not that far into it yet, lol)

Top 3 fictional universes I’d love to live in: 1. DANVILLE, PLS. Especially as a kid, I SO would’ve loved to hang out with Isabella and Phineas and the rest of the gang! Danville is so vibrant and unique and people are always randomly breaking into song there, that’s my kind of place! 2. Fairytopia (from the Barbie movies!) because I could be a fairy OR a mermaid OR BOTH and eat seeweed to breathe underwater even if I wasn’t a mermaid. Like, that’s the dream right there. (I’ve always loved mermaids and fairies, lol!) 3. Maybe San Fransokyo from Big Hero 6? All of the technology in that universe is really cool! And I would love to eat a noodle burger, lol .

Oh! That’s the last one! Wow! This was so FUN!!!!!!! Thanks again for the tag, Maddy!!!! :)

I’ll taaaag @sketchy-panda @macaronsforchat @simplynewyorkbound @inkjackets and anyone else who’d like to do this! (And pls don’t feel pressured to play at all, or answer all of the questions! I was definitely vague with a few of my answers, lol)

[ivyandink]

How The Ivy’s End - Season 1

it’s long af, so below the cut. at the end is a brief tldr; too for u instant gratification fans

Levi & Penelope

Levi and Penelope, after raising 4 kids together (Luna, Dorian [Penny + Zach’s baby, passed off as Levi’s], Morgan and Charlotte [Penny+Levi’s twins]), have a struggling relationship.

Levi is constantly trying to make things work, to make Penny happy, and to find the ‘spark’ they once had, in an attempt to revive their dead bedroom (yup!!! rip). Penny gets put on a project at work that has her teaming up with a legal consultant... none other than ex-boyfriend Justin Brees!

While Levi is struggling to work on his relationship with Penelope, raise his children, and manage his relationship with Luna’s mom Megan, Penelope is starting to feel things she hasn’t felt in a while-- but for Justin. 

When Levi and Penny’s neighbor hits on Levi one afternoon, after he rejects her she tells him she knows his relationship is falling apart-- she sees it, because so is hers. Turns out... she maybe have been right!! Penelope starts toying with the idea of breaking things off with Levi, to pursue Justin; the way she feels around him is just incomparable.

She’s ready to pull the trigger, and put an end to their ~4 years together when... Zach shows up. The father of her first child (who everyone thinks is Levi’s!), the man who spun a wild tale about a mysterious man he worked for, and some sort of danger which meant he had to disappear for a while. It took time, but eventually Penelope realized she’d been played. Zach, an avid reader nonetheless, made up a wild story all to avoid responsibility. 

Or did he.....?

Feeling the pressure and a surge of emotions from Zach’s return, Penelope finds comfort in the familiar, and reels herself back in from breaking things off with Levi. Together, they try to determine what to do about Zach being back in the picture, and wanting to meet his son. Penelope is adamant that she doesn’t want to give him a chance, but Levi, despite how much he wants to agree with her, can’t, after having experienced what it was like to not be able to see your own child. He urges her to hear Zach out, at the very least.

And when she does, it turns out... Zach’s story wasn’t as farfetched of a lie as she thought. He was on the hook for partaking in a money laundering scheme, through his business, Scratch Publishing. He’d fallen into the scheme thanks to a man he met and befriend in his NA group-- Michael Windsor. By the time he’d realized what was happening, he was in too deep to safely get out. That was why he’d pushed Penelope away in the first place, broken up with her over something trivial, and run when she’d told him about the baby. He couldn’t risk bringing her down with him. Thankfully, the statute of limitations on money laundering was five years, and with a solid four under his belt and no red flags or contact from Mr. Windsor, he figured it’d be safe to come back.

In awe of his words, Penelope’s harsh demeanor starts to slowly dismantle. The thing she’d always held against Zach was his abandonment, his betrayal, and how much he’d broken her heart when she was certain they were truly, deeply in love. How did she feel about him now that it turned out all of that was to protect her?

Slowly, but surely, Penelope allows Zach back into her, and Dorian’s life. Zach and his son bond almost instantly, which is both heartwarming and troubling. Dorian had been raised thinking Levi was his dad... what were they to say now? For Levi especially, it was hard seeing a child he’s come to see as his own, be taken away... rightfully so, by his biological father... but nonetheless, it wasn’t easy. Especially not for a second time. Within himself, now Levi has to grapple with the dilemma of how to tell his entire family he’d lied to them for four years...

Eventually, he tells them all, and once the chaos and confusion of it all blows over, things start to settle into a nice (albeit, strange) routine with Levi, Penelope, Zach and Dorian. As Zach grows closer with his son, he grows closer with Penelope too-- the old inside jokes, the literary references, the intimate teasing they’d once had together, all slowly starts to come back. Meanwhile, Justin is still spending late nights working with Penelope, and talking to her far too much to be considered strictly professional. Oh, and she’s still with Levi, and raising four children with him....

Levi, focusing on his family and his career, is presented with the opportunity of a lifetime. An international trip, to photograph at some of the top fashion events in Paris. He knows it’d be a game changer for his career, but declines the offer, in favor of staying home, where he can keep an eye on his kids, and more importantly, his relationship, which seems to be falling apart at the seems, and slipping through his fingers like water. (Somewhere in there, Luna gets into child modeling lol.)

After months of battling her emotions, dealing with the revisiting of old feelings of abandonment with Zach (both romantic and parental... him leaving Dorian mirrors her own father leaving her much to much for comfort) and trying to make the best decision not only for herself, but for her family(s?), Penelope decides to end things with Levi. She realizes that if she is feeling so conflicted (and over three men, at that!), that Levi deserves better. She jumped head first into motherhood at such a young age, and lost herself in the tumult of it all. She needed time to be alone-- no Levi, no Justin, no Zach-- to be herself for once, and find out who that woman was. 

....to be continued...

Violet & Jordan

Vi and Jordan couldn’t have a more perfect life. A beautiful daughter, a brand new home, a fancy lifestyle, and a brand new baby boy on the way to complete it all. There had never been a couple more in love in the history of time than Violet and Jordan-- that’s what they like to think anyways.

Their biggest crises is Jordan’s desire to start his own business. After near a decade of working in restaurants, and five years managing one, and a lifetime interest as a hobbyist chef, Jordan realizes that his biggest dream is to open his own catering company. There’s only one problem-- it’s expensive. And truth be told, with an obstetrician for a wife, Jordan isn’t exactly the primary breadwinner in his family.

With a mountain of medical school debt still to be paid, two brand new cars, a brand new house, and two children that need college funds, Violet is gun shy over Jordan’s new proposal. Jordan takes this to mean that his wife doesn’t believe in him, which ensues a few nights of arguments, cold shoulders, and sleeping on the couch (J, not Vi, of course).

But suddenly, that all becomes trivial when Jordan gets a phone call..... his father has died. This news rocks his world. His father had never been much of a father to him, and in fact, had been his abuser growing up. As soon as he was old enough, he’d cut ties with both his parents and got the hell out of dodge. He is filled with a strange feeling-- not quite sadness, but not relief, but a weird mixture of the two. His grieving mother begs him to come home for the funeral. For the moment, Vi and J set their disagreements aside, and say goodbye as Jordan leaves his very pregnant wife to catch a flight to Willow Creek.

To put it simply, this is an intense experience for Jordan. Being back in a place he associates with his terrible childhood, in a place he hated and couldn’t wait to run from...He hardly knows how to process it all. He is happy to see his mother, and grateful now she can be free from her husband’s abuse, too. Except... she’s not happy he’s gone. She doesn’t see herself as freed-- she would’ve defended her husband until the grave, no matter how many bruises he left, and she did exactly that. Jordan decides to stay for the week, and help his mother get everything in order, despite it all.

As he spends time in Willow Creek, he is reminded of the crew he used to run with as a teen and young adult-- people he hardly recognizes now. Except maybe... Cami. Cami had been his ex girlfriend, on again off again sort of situation. They’d dated throughout high school, and after he’d broken up with Violet to give her a better shot at life (thinking, wrongfully, he’d hold her back), Cami was the woman he turned to in his time of heartbreak. Feeling stranded and alone in Willow Creek, with his mom blaming him for his father’s death, and generally feeling like he’s at a crossroads in his life, Jordan ends up humoring Cami’s insistence on hanging around.

Cami knew what it was like. She got it. In ways Violet never could. She'd been hurt by her parents too. She’d grown up in a rough part of town, got involved with the wrong people and the wrong things, just like he did. In a way, they were kindred spirits-- it why they always found their way back to each other, despite how toxic it always ended up being. And if there is one word to describe Cami, it is determined. She is determined to get her way.

She calls him JJ-- his old nickname, that he now despises and associates with his tumultuous youth. She tries to remind him of who he was, and still is, deep down. Who they were together. She tries to tell him that this new life he’s got? It’s not him. It’s that boujee bitch wife of yours, JJ. I bet she don’t even understand you-- bet she doesn’t even get how you can miss someone even when they’ve hurt so bad... bet she said ‘good riddance’ when you told her the news. She doesn’t get you JJ, not like how I do... how I always did.

She comes on to him, pushing herself against him. Jordan gets angry, tries to push her off of him. She goads him on. What’re you gonna do, baby? Hit me again? Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree I guess, JJ. That was one time Camille. One time. I am nothing like him. No baby, you’re not... mmm.. not at all. Shhh, it’s okay, don’t cry. I’m here. I’m here. I’m never leavin’ you JJ, not ever again. 

In a moment of incredible vulnerability and weakness, Jordan relents to her seductions. But... only momentarily. It doesn’t take long for him to realize what is happening-- he pushes her off of him and storms away, as she cries out his name. Disgusted with himself, he immediately goes to call his wife. He breaks down, sobs shaking his body, as he tells Violet everything. Except the other end of the line stays silent... Don’t bother coming home, Jordan. There’s nothing for you here anymore. Stay the fuck away from me.

Cheating was the one thing Violet would never, ever stomach. She hangs up the phone, stoic and stiff as a rock, and then collapses into tears, crying on her beautiful, marble kitchen floors. She she looks around her home, she sees Jordan everywhere. She sees the life they’ve built together over the years. And she knows she can’t stay there for the night. Violet packs a bag for herself and her daughter, drops Willow off with her mom, and heads to Wes and Nate’s place to get away for the night.

...to be continued...

Wes & Nate

Wes and Nate, after four years of marriage, are ready to grow their family. With both of them working good jobs, and a townhouse in a nice enough part of the city (that Nate’s parents may or may not have helped out with...), they figured it was time. Of course, the pleading mothers on both sides of the family didn’t help matters!

Turns out, however, it’s not the easiest thing in the world to adopt a child, especially as a gay couple. Agency after agency has turned them down-- either because they don’t work with gay parents, or because they say they’re just ‘not the right fit’ (code for: you’re gay but we’re scared to say that’s our reasoning). The few agencies that have been willing to work with them are still struggling to pair them with a birth mother. Possibly because despite both of them having good jobs, neither has a college education. Or possibly because on more than one occasion, Wes had dropped an f-bomb during the interview process. Or possibly.... Weston’s questionable family history, and his father being a convict-- which came up on several occasions. 

Feeling depressed and defeated, Weston’s connects with Nate’s sister, Thalia, who is also struggling to conceive with her husband Gianni. Neither of them thought they’d ever really want kids one day, and here they are, both in their feelings about not having them. They have their heart to heart, as it feels like the only person who truly gets it is each other. The feeling of letting their partner down, over one of the biggest things.

Despite Wes and Nate’s growing frustrations, they try and stay patient. And finally, it seems to be paying off! A birth mother has agreed to match with them! Finally, it seems they have conquered the beast.

Until..... she changes her mind, and rescinds the offer, after finding out about Weston’s absent dad. Failure, again. They both know there is nothing they can do to change the sort of childhood Wes had, and that it has no bearing on the types of dads they will be-- it’s just a matter of time until they match with someone who won’t hold that against them. But it inspires Nate to bed the question to his husband... should he try and reconnect with his dad again?

It had been years of avoidance since the last time Steven showed up in Weston’s life. He’d avoided him then, and ever sense. But now, with the topic coming up over and over again, he does feel compelled to reach out. It doesn’t take long to get his number from his mom; he finds out he lives just a few hours away, and they schedule to meet somewhere in the middle.

And for the first time ever, Wes willingly confronts his father. His whole life, he’d built him up to be some kind of monster, and he can’t tell if he’s disappointed or just plain sad to see the man his father has actually become-- a tired, old, cracked out looking man with shaky hands. 

As they talk, Steven apologizes for never being a dad to him, but also admits that he never wanted to be a dad-- not then and not now. The times he reached out years ago, he was just hoping to get to know his kid, as a fellow adult, not like some mentor or fatherly figure. That was a role Steven never did well in. Steven tells Wes how despite his actions, he really did care for him, and his mom, Daria, and he’d cleaned up his act ever since he got out of prison. He confesses that he might not be the best grandfather in the world, but says he is willing to try, if Wes is willing to bring his child around him, one day (despite the fact that Steven gets visibly uncomfortable referencing the fact that Wes is, indeed gay and married to a man). With mutual understanding and no more hard feelings, the men shake hands and part their separate ways.

And as if by some kind of strange magic... Wes and Nate get paired with a birth mom just a few weeks later. Although this time, they know better than to hold their breath, there is something different about this woman and this situation that feels... right.

...to be continued...

Wrap It All Up

Jordan has returned home, Violet is still refusing to forgive him, and only seeing him when they exchange their daughter. Inside, both of them are absolutely crushed, but neither of them knows how to begin to fix the wreckage. Jordan has been coping with all the old dirt his father’s death and trip back home stirred up in himself, and throws himself into developing his business idea. He’s added onto it-- not only will it be a catering company, but he will specifically try and work with at-risk youth. Kids from bad homes, and bad situations. Even with no financial backing, he decides to take the risk and go for it.

Penelope, discovering herself as a single woman and trying to cope with the tremendous emotions she’s been having, is finally starting to find her footing. She’s finally figured out a good childcare schedule with Levi, she’s thriving at work, and she’s starting to see herself-- and what she wants-- clearer. She ends things with Justin (or what little had ever been there) once and for all, and finds herself spending more and more time with Zach, out of desire and not just necessity. With all of her reasons to hate him melted away, the feelings of love she thought were gone start to come back. And-- surprise, surprise-- they’re returned.

Violet has been staying with Wes and Nate, and celebrating with them over the news of matching with another birth mom. She’s been helping them coordinate with her, send her the right sort of items, and prepare their future nursery. One night, her and Wes are up late, talking, as they usually do. And finally Wes tries to approach to touchy subject of her marriage. 

Wes looks at Vi, and point blank, asks her if she wants to divorce Jordan. Instantly, she says no. That tells Wes everything. He urges her to forgive Jordan-- he made a terrible, awful mistake, but he immediately tried to do the right thing. He stopped it before it went further, and his first thought was to lay it all on the line to Violet, not hide it. Wes gently reminds her of the time when she cheated on jordan... with himself. It had just been a kiss, but that was besides the point. When the little secret had finally come out, Jordan had laughed, and been more so annoyed that she was never honest, and less about the actual kiss. Violet insists that was soo different, which Weston concedes to. But still, he urges her to find it in her heart to forgive Jordan. He’s a good man, a great father, and they are truly in love-- they shouldn’t throw it away over one lapse in perfection.

Violet considers Wes’ advice... and heeds it. She goes home one day, when she knows Jordan will be off work, and finds him in the once-pristine kitchen, surrounded with food and bowls and tupperware and tomato sauce strewn just about everywhere. It catches her off guard. She laughs. And then she cries. Then she goes to her husband, wraps her arms around him, and tearfully whispers, What the hell are you doing to my kitchen, Jordan?

Jordan tells Violet about how even if he doesn’t know the financial details yet, he’s going to make his catering business happen; he tells her about the change in plans, spurred by his own troubled teenhood. As she listens to him talk about his life, his dreams, and his passion, she cries harder; she realizes that maybe she never did know this part of her husband. Maybe he never shared it, but maybe she never asked. Again, he apologizes for what happened in Willow Creek. She apologizes for her reaction, and for never taking the time to get to know the rough corners of her husband. As they kiss and makeup, Violet decides that they will tackle this catering business-- together.

Levi, more than anything, feels tired. He feels beaten down. The stress of raising four children. His relationship with Penelope falling apart despite how hard he tried to make it work. Watching Violet and Jordan’s strong marriage falter and almost crack, and Wes and Nate struggle to grow their family... It’s all too much for him-- a man notoriously always looking for love (in all the wrong places..). But, it’s even harder watching all those people around him re-find their love, and peace and happiness... while his still lies dormant. As summer draws near in the wake of the hardest year of his life to date, he decides to finally do something just for him... he calls up his boss, and last minute, takes up the offer to travel to Paris for the international project.

Violet goes into labor, and gives birth to her and Jordan’s second child, and first son. They also officially file for the name of his new catering business.

Nate and Wes fly across the country to be present for the birth of their son, grateful that things didn’t fall through this time.

Penelope and Zach finally make things official.

And in Paris, Levi scouts the streets, following the directions scrawled out on a sheet of torn paper, until he finds it. 

He knocks on the door. And Marie opens it.

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

tldr;

Penny has a lil love triangle with Levi/Justin/Zach. She breaks up with Levi to be single, but ends up with Zach.

Jordan cheats on Vi in a moment of weakness with his toxic ex after the death of his abusive father, but they eventually make up, and he starts a catering business and vows to hire at-risk youth.

Wes and Nate struggle to find a birth mom to adopt from, but finally, it all works out and they have a son.

Levi gets fkin WRECKED emotionally (karma fro, everything perhaps??? lool) , and ends up in Paris, knockin’ on Marie’s door. ;)

There was supposed to be a season 2, as well, which details what happens the next year, after all of this.. :) Primarily focusing on Levi + Marie, and what happens with them, and also Luna’s story! May or may not make a post for that one. Season 2 wasn’t as fleshed out. 

Most important detail I guess is that Levi and Marie end up together lol. 

~*~spoiler~*~

[iphoenixrising]

Check, Please WIP: Part 1-4

AHL!Bitty

I’m going to hell, but… Parse, Bitty, and Jack or PB&J as I’ve seen it, have some wonderful stories in the fandom, and tbh I’ve come to look at Kent Parsons very differently thanks to a few. You can probably check them out on my Ao3 bookmarks and such. 

Notes: 

I know shit all about hockey but damn if I don’t love Check, Please! Not everything is accurate and some details are mine. Like, I’m just going to pretend the Bruins aren’t in Providence, and the Pawtucket Rebels are the AHL team. 

But then, what if Jack and Bits didn’t get that kiss at the end of Jack’s graduation? What if they just stayed the best of friends, pining away at one another until Kent Parson comes back into Jack’s life. Now it’s not just Jack pining, it’s Kent too :D

And, well, after winning the Championship his senior year, bringing that back to Samwell, Eric Bittle might just think he hasn’t had enough Hockey after all.

Really, it’s time to put up or shut up.

** Pro

Of all the things on Kent Parson’s Wish List (winning the Stanley Cup, being on a team he loves, playing hockey for the rest of his life, having a pet and Kit meets all those criteria for so much cute and cuddly), getting his friendship back on track with Jack Zimmermann hadn’t moved down from number 1, ever. 

Things changed after that disaster at his college frat house, then later in Zimm’s first season with the Falconers, Kent wasn’t sure it could even be a wish. 

When it came to hockey, things were always too easy. They never had to talk about it, about what they were doing on the ice. All of that just came like breathing. Parse and Zimms, Zimms and Parse. The whole Zimmermann-Parson No-Look One-Timer was never something they discussed, it was something that just happened. 

On the ice, they were unbeatable, just like in Juniors.

Off the ice...was a different story. 

(Sometimes he dreams about it, finding Jack passed out on the bathroom floor of the hotel, foaming at the mouth, panic and adrenaline hitting Kent hard when he’s pretty sure his best friend, the man he almost-kind of-sometimes loves, is going to die on this floor.)

Jack’s problem with pills started early, around the time he and Kent got serious enough to play for scouts that started coming around with the promise of watching the son of Bad Bob. 

(He was always partially to blame for Jack’s downfall. Kent had been the closest to Jack back then, had seen the signs, had tried to pull him back whenever he could, had been the one to ease Zimms down before every game, to be the one sitting in a corner with the bigger Canadian, running his hands over Jack’s shoulders and holding his hands, checking his breathing, helping him work through the anxiety.)

But, but!

That’s all old history, something Jack probably never wants to revisit ever again (because he cut you out of his life so well–), even when he makes it to the Falconers. 

(After that disaster at his school, well, no wonder.)

And Kent just has to deal with that, has to accept it finally, and just move on. 

(He could have been an Ace, just that fast, playing with Kent’s team of awesome guys. And fuck did it hurt when Jack turned him down flat...)

Until this little shit came along.

** 1

Eric Bittle realizes he’s severely messed up when he doesn’t kiss Jack Zimmermann at graduation. 

For two years, they’ve played hard hockey for Samwell, have gotten close, becoming best friends. They’ve held checking clinics, hugged tightly in cellys, watched boring as hell history documentaries on that god-awful green couch, and pulled each other back from the brink of insanity during midterms and finals. They’ve spent time in the kitchen with Bitty cooking and Jack working at the table. They’ve spent time outside in the quad, bullshittin’ like the oldest friends, chirpin’ back n’ forth like they’re two peas in a pod. 

Jack somehow started being his best friend without even trying. 

The last game showed him how close they’d become when he’s going through the empty rink, making it to the loading dock, just a flash of jersey leading him to Jack hunched over, tears in his eyes. 

The utter agony right there had gone through Bitty like lightning, driving him forward to hop up on the pallets Jack was sitting on, and wrap both arms around those wide shoulders, hold on to ‘im as tight as he can. 

“It ain’t your fault, Jack. You did so good with us. I’m so proud of you, honey, you have no idea. You worked so hard, so hard, Jack.”

“Bits,” is soft and sad, Jack choking a little, but those big arms come around him, crush him against Jack’s chest and the pads he’s still wearing. 

“I know, I know. Sometimes it just isn’t in the cards, no matter how hard we fight. You get that, don’t you? Sometimes it just is what it is.”

“I can’t–” accept that is what Jack wants to say. 

“I know it’s hard, but sometimes all the trainin’ and plannin’ and best of intentions just aren’t enough to tip the scales in your favor.”

And Jack seems to get something there, tightens his arms a little more, and holds on. 

It’s a little while later when Jack’s stopped shaking like a leaf, “I wanted to bring home a Championship. Wanted to make my mark on Samwell.”

“Of course you did–”

“Thought after all this time, everything I owe Samwell and the team, bringing me here, giving me this second chance–”

“Oh Jack,” at this juncture, Bittle’s head is under Jack’s chin. 

“I finally felt like I’d stopped fucking up,” is rough and dark in the quiet of the rink. “I thought coming to Samwell was a...a punishment. I dealt with it because I thought my life was going to start after, when I finished up my degree and got back into the Draft. But that’s...that’s not how it happened. My life started the minute I met you and the team and I remembered why the hell I love hockey so damn much in the first place.”

And if maybe a few slow, shameful tears escaped Bitty, well, no one would ever know.

But they got even closer as Jack’s graduation loomed, and Eric Bittle stayed in his own personal hell of loving Jack so much it ached, but helpless to stay away to protect himself. 

Instead, when Jack pauses at his door, Bits knows what he needs and finds space to lounge on Jack’s bed, scrolling through Twitter while Jack talks about the negotiations with NHL teams or works on his last assignments. 

Watching Jack pack his things, preparing for the Falconer’s training camp, getting ready for the next stage of his life, all of it makes Bits so dang proud and so sad at the same time.

But, well, nothin’ lasts forever, now does it.

When Jack ran all the way back to the Haus just to see him, just to pull him in hard for a desperate last hold, it was all Bits could do to stop from sobbing his heart out.

“–and you’re coming to Providence this summer to stay with me for a while, and-and I’ll be down when I can. You’re going to Skype me all the time. Bits, promise me. All the time.”

“Okay, Jack. Okay.”

Something soft in French that he has no idea what it could possibly mean, but he absolutely imagines Jack pressing a kiss in his hair. 

“I’m sorry, Bits, but I have to go. I...I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay,” is more watery than he’d like, but he can look up in Jack’s blue, blue eyes and at least feel warm that he’s had this man for as long as he has. When Jack’s hands slide out of his, he somehow doesn’t feel like he’s losing anything at all. 

** 2

And just like that, Jack takes a step in his life he never could have predicted. Like an hour away instead of across the hall is enough to keep holding on, enough that Jack comes to Madison over the summer, enough that he asks Bitty to show him how to use FaceTime and SnapChat. 

It’s enough for Jack to pick him up off his feet every time they meet up and bury his face in Bitty’s hair. It’s enough for Jack to Skype almost nightly while he’s tuckered out in his bed, talking about the joys and pitfalls of being a professional athlete. 

It’s enough that he gets to meet the Falconers long before preseason starts, and the amount of pies he brings is literally obscene.

(It all works out just fine in the end because he goes home with the empty pans. Not a single slice left.)

It’s enough when Jack talks more about life than hockey sometimes, and Bitty is utterly helpless to stop any of it. And it’s funny, he thinks, how he was sure Jack would just flitter out of his life after a while. That they would be reduced to a Skype call once a week maybe when they find the time, then once a month, then not at all, moving into texting once and a while until Jack would be nothing more than one of his best memories of Samwell. 

It’s funny how he thought Jack moving into the NHL, moving to Providence, moving out of the Haus, moving on with his life, would mean also moving on from Eric Bittle.

And my, how wrong he was about all that.

Watching Jack play with the Falconers from the stands with the Stanley Cup on the line is not really where he’d thought he’d be once Jack had graduated. 

But, if anything else, they’ve gotten even closer than before. 

And when the buzzer finally sounds and the Falconers win it, he’s among the crowd running out on the ice for the biggest celly of the year. 

Jack spots him immediately, grabs him up with a victorious roar, and skates around people holding Bitty like a favorite toy until Tater scoops him up from Jack yelling about “Nook pies!”

Marty skates by him, ruffling his hair with something twinkling in his eye. Thirdy hauls him up, too, though Bitty has no idea why all these hockey players are just throwing him around when they’ve just won the Stanley Cup, but he still thinks it’s awful nice of them to include him in their celebration.

He doesn’t go back to Georgia for the summer after all or the next one before he starts his senior year, but goes between staying in Jack’s guest room and the Haus instead. His Mama’s not happy about it at all, but he’s a grown man, so that’s all she can say about that.

So Bitty passes the summer of his Senior year training with Jack or at Faber when the ice is up for grabs, works on some chapters for his someday cookbook, and continues his vlog so everyone can see how superior filo is to choux in the right circumstances.

With the season over after winning the Cup, Jack is over at the Haus more than ever if Bitty’s not in Providence already staying in his guest room. 

It should be strange to answer the door at the Haus on Saturday morning during the summer and see Jack there in his trainers, sweats, and t-shirt, wanting to hang out for the day after he’d put in a few hours at the Falc’s stadium already. 

(“C’mon, Bits. Can’t slack during the summer. You’re the captain. Set an example.”

“Jack, it’s summer. Leave me alone until at least nine am for goodness sake!”

“Not going to happen, bud.”)

It should be strange riding the train or in the passenger seat of Jack’s SUV on their way to Providence while he fiddles with the music and Jack doesn’t complain about the selection. 

It should be strange to wake up on Jack’s couch, laying on a broad shoulder with a heavy arm flopped around Bitty’s waist and logs being sawed in his ear.

It should be strange to know Jack’s kitchen better than the back of his hand, and to be giddy every time there’s a new utensil bought with him in mind.

(“Jack, why in the world would you need a dough scraper of all things?” “Not for me, Bits.”

“O-Oh!”

“Yeah. Thank Tater. He went with me this time. He held up that and said, ‘oh does B have one of these? It looks important.’ I didn’t know so I bought it in case.”)

It should be strange to see Jack’s Skype requests almost every night before bed, or have his former captain sprawled out in Bitty’s full sized bed once Lardo, Ransom, and Holster are already moved out and the new Waffles are well into the first semester of his senior year.

(“Good Lord, Jack, scoot over!”

“Mm.” Jack scootches maybe a foot more so Bitty can climb in beside him, already yawning. “Comfy, bud?”

“Gettin’ there,” and he absolutely ignores how much easier he falls asleep when Jack throws a heavy arm over him.)

It should be strange for Jack to whip him on up in a big hug when he admits the boys voted him as the Captain, and Jack breathes out, “damn right,” too close to his ear.

(“I don’t know if I can do this, Jack.”

“Too bad, Bits. Looks like you’re already doing it.”)

It should be strange for Jack to chirp him about his thesis, about his struggle with Whiskey, about why this darn strudel just won’t turn out right.

(“Jaques Laurant Zimmermann, do not make me ground you from pie.”

“Haha. I know you wouldn’t do that, bud.”

“Oh? Don’t be so sure, Mister.”)

It should be strange to get an earful when his new video comes out and Jack had no idea the jam war was that serious while Bitty has been supplying the Falconers for nearly a year. 

(“Are you kidding? Aunt Judy is really that upset?”

“You have no idea, honey. It’s almost World War III down there.”

“Good thing you’re stuck at Samwell.”

“Good thing is right! I don’t want any part of that mess.”)

But somehow it never is. Strange, that is, to have Jack so much. Even though nothing could happen between them (“Never fall for a straight boy.”), Bitty still can’t let go of Jack, can’t deny him, can’t tell him no, can’t be the one that fails to respond when Jack reaches out for him. 

Even when Kent Parson shows up at a Falcs game and cheers himself hoarse, screams for Jack right there on live TV.

And while trying to get through his dang senior year, trying to get his team to the Eastern Conference, he watches how Jack and Kent start to move back in one another’s orbit.

...which is probably why he doesn’t tell Jack anything about the scouts from the AHL coming to see him after the game with Princeton.

** 3

The Pawtucket Rebels manager, Michael McLean, is the one that meets Bitty with a Standard Player Contract the morning he gets back from Jack’s place when they’re going to be starting in the Frozen Four if they win the next two games.

The weekend away was nice, but he hadn’t been expecting Jack’s intention to introduce him to Kent Parson of the Las Vegas Aces. 

“We’ve already met,” Bitty had filled in, still shaking Kent’s hand with a distant smile on his face, “at the Haus party when he swung on by.”

“Not my best moment,” the Captain admits sheepishly, eyes not meeting Bitty’s, and dang it if the boy ain’t at least a little bit cute. 

“I suppose we all have our days,” Bits just drawls out and gives him a wink. He holds out the plate of fresh cookies as some kind of peace offering. 

The weekend was still nice, being caught up in Kent’s manic energy and Jack’s easy acceptance. But, he starts seeing the signs pretty easily, when Jack’s hand goes to Kent’s shoulder after a good joke, the exchanged glances that linger, the slowly dwindling personal space that used to be there for them. How they start finishing each other’s sentences, and oh, doesn’t it just make his heart give a little beat when he sees them both happy. 

(But doesn’t that just break it at the same dang time. Not only does Jack like men, but he’s already got his sights set on his old boyfriend. It’s almost enough to make a grown man cry. Bitty consoles himself after breaking down in his room on Sunday when Jack and Kent dropped him off at the Haus. Only Senor Bun knew how much he’d ugly cried himself out that night.)

When Mr. McLean gives him the contract to peruse and a business card with his information circled in blue pen, Bitty almost picks up his phone to call Jack, talk about what he would need other than a lawyer to go over this thing. 

He thinks about Kent and calls Coach and Mama the next morning instead, promises to send scanned copies of the contract. Mama asks if this is something he really wants to think about doing after graduation. 

“It’s money, Mama, a lot of money, and who knows? Hockey might not be outta my heart just yet. I’ll still have time for everything else.”

He only feels a little bit bad when Jack Skypes him on a roadie, set-up in a hotel, asks how his darn thesis is going, and promises to be at the next home game. 

Kent joins the call while Bits is slid down all snug and sleepy-eyed, kids around with him by making kissy faces. 

“College is brutal, Bits. You aren’t sleeping enough.”

“Well, now that’s life, ain’t it?”

Bitty knows something’s going on between them because Kent is shaking a finger at the screen and lecturing him about procrastination while Kit snoozes on. He’d only known if Jack told him about it.

“Bits, your thesis is basically about baking. Baking is the thing you love that isn’t hockey.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” Bitty slurs tiredly, wondering how he’s talking to the man that’s swiping his unrequited crush right out from under him even though he doesn’t even feel too bad about it. Not when he sees how good Kent is for Jack now, even if that hadn’t always been the case.

(Long as it makes Jack happy, I can endure it. It’s tough, but I’m tougher.)

But really. Kent Parson is so different from his image as the Captain of the Aces, Bitty can’t help but genuinely like the man. 

“I’m so jealous. I love peppermint cookies and I’ve never gotten any sent to me!”

Sleepy time Bitty makes a note of that even when the world fuzzes out a little bit more.  

“God, he’s so cute, Zimms.”

“Euh. He really is, Kenny. We should hang-up and let him sleep.”

Or he might of just dreamed that part.

The Aces have a hard game coming up, and he’s got his outline done, so the Haus is finally going to let him alone long enough to bake one single, solitary pie. In the middle of it, he certainly doesn’t expect Jack to show up with a six pack of Molson Blue, apparently assuming they’re going to watch it together and cheer on Kent.

“But I expect you to cheer for the Falcs when it comes down to us and the Aces, Bits.”

“Oh honey, I always root for the underdog anyhow.”

The chirp makes Jack flop back on his bed and laugh hard enough for tears to be in his eyes. Bitty just goes back to the Aces on his laptop and drinks Jack’s awful beer with a smirk.

He stirs a little from sleep to Jack talking softly beside him in bed since “It’s too late to drive back to Providence tonight. Move over, bud.”

He mutters something maybe, sighing instead when fingers comb through his hair. 

“That W was perfection, Parse. You were skating your best life out there, eh?...sleeping right now. Yeah, senior year is a pain in the ass...you bet I miss you. Three weeks, we’ll be close enough to Vegas...yeah, I’ll try to get him to come along, but the Wellies are getting closer to the Championship...he would kill to bring it home for the boys.”

But he probably imagined all that, too. 

Still, he’s got a short break before the next round of games, and just five days until his deadline to let Mr. McLean have his answer when Jack shows up at the Haus and is apparently confused why Bitty isn’t packed for Vegas.

“What do you mean we’re going to Las Vegas, Jack?!” Because this is the first he’s heard about it, and how does Jack already have a plane ticket for him?

“Come off it, bud. If I go there without you, Kenny will never forgive me.”

“How does he even know I don’t have a game?” He frets while putting sleep shorts in a suitcase, wonders if he should bring one of his suits since Jack is already wearing one. 

Jack’s brows scrunch together, “Don’t you talk to him on that–that bird one? All the time? He says he always reads your updates.”

He pauses with a pair of boxer briefs and gives Jack his very best unimpressed expression, “Jack, sweet pea, please tell me you didn’t just refer to Twitter as that bird one?” He carefully does not say anything about Kent Parson checking his Twitter updates.

The soft smile and shrug in reply answers that now doesn’t it.

“I swear, what would you do without me,” he sighs, a little throb of love getting caught in his chest, and he just busies himself right on past it, going for at least one pair of flip flops probably buried under mounds of winter gear. 

“Honestly? If I didn’t have you these last few years, maybe it would have been like what happened when I was in the Q,” Jack leans back on his elbows on Bitty’s bed, right beside the suitcase he’s quickly trying to pack. Being stuck between two button-ups, biting his bottom lip because he’s already bringing so much takes a backseat when Jack mentions the days he was in Juniors, and Bitty feels his eyebrows raise. 

“When we started checking clinics, you and me, that was the most...balanced I ever started feeling after all that. The, ah, overdose. That...that might have been where I ended up if it hadn’t been for you and Samwell.”

With a breath (because Lord, here was Jack finally talking about it, in such a soft tone, his eyes so very blue, and just! Well, he’s not made of stone and this is Jack), he scoots the suitcase back and plops right down on the bed, reaching for Jack’s hand. He carefully looks at the closed door and rubs those big fingers with his thumb.

“You honestly think you would have made those same mistakes without me, Jack?” He tries to be nice about it, “because I sure as heck don’t.”

His fingers tighten around Bitty’s, a squeeze, a soft thank-you.

“I mean, I didn’t know you back then, so I can’t say who you were, but there are some parts of that Jack left in the one I know now. And the Jack I know now is someone that knows how to lead his team, and takes care of them, who knows how to inspire them. The Jack I know got up extra early just to help this hopeless case learn to overcome his fear and be able to play hockey better than he ever could have before. You helped me not just be able to take the check, but I’m a captain, a center, and I earned it because of you. The Jack I know is selfless in so many ways and selfish in just the right ones, and dang it, he’s my best friend, so you better not say anything else like that about him again.”

The bed shifts under him when Jack sits up, a big hand coming up to palm the side of Bitty’s face so Jack can lean his forehead in, look straight at him from just inches away with those stupidly big blue eyes, and be so warm and just Jack. 

“You were never hopeless, Bits,” and with his voice that low, being this close, Bitty feels his cheeks getting warm, his eyes helplessly sliding down to Jack’s mouth.

The errant thought Vegas, we’re going to Vegas shakes him out of the moment, and he pats Jack’s forearm, gently pulling back from the very intense, heart-stopping moment where his brain almost killed him when it told him to just go on and kiss Jack.

But his brain also knows it would probably be the last thing he’d ever do with Jack because Jack has Kent for that now, doesn’t he?

Mentally shaking himself, Bitty stands quickly, goes back to his suitcase, “All right, now for heaven’s sake, Jack, help me here. I’ve never been to Las Vegas–”

And it’s not nearly as hot in Georgia as it is in Las Vegas when they get off the plane, but everything else about it is incredible. 

(He doesn’t think about how nice it was to ride next to Jack on the plane, talking strategy and the team, the upcoming games and new plays they might bring to the ice. It’s nice to hear about the Falcs eating his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with hollers for more. The pies never last long and cookies are always a favorite.)

He might have worried for about a minute, fiddling with the Uber app on his phone to update his location, but Jack just lays a hand on his back and guides him out of the terminal. 

“Don’t worry about it, Bits, we’ve got a ride.”

And standing by a stunning red Ferrari is Kent Parson himself, grinning wide under his sunglasses.

“Oh my,” even if it’s a little breathless, he gives himself an out here because wow, it’s a nice car. 

(And he is not at all looking at Kent’s bare arms or muscled calves. Absolutely not. He’s already got one heartache, thank-you very much.)

He still squeaks a little when Kent literally picks him up off his feet and swings him around.

“There’s my guys! Falconers and Rebels!” Kent yells for half the airport to hear. 

Jack blinks and Bitty groans softly.

Those blue eyes aren’t accusing him of anything, but it’s that same confused look when he tries to figure out if the next song is Destiny’s Child or Queen Bey herself.

“Rebels?”

He doesn’t wince, but it’s a close thing.

“I’ll...tell you about it later.” He waves off, deflecting perfectly, and snaps up his luggage again now that he’s on his feet.

“Oh,” Kent looks from him to Jack and back to him, and his mouth opens probably to say something else no one else needs to hear.

“Thank-you for coming to pick us up, by the way,” he starts rambling right on, “I’ve never been to Las Vegas before. And we’re even going to watch a game? How exciting! Should I make something for your team? A good luck something maybe? Is there a grocery store close to your house? Can we stop? Maybe I could do a few apple pies and a strawberry one...?”

“You can make me food all day, B,” Kent smiles so wide and white down at him and just swipes his bag right up out of Bitty’s hand like it weighs nothing at all. “My favorite pie is peach, just in case you were wondering.”

Bitty slaps him right on the arm, absolutely offended. “Kenneth Virgil Parson the Third, like I wouldn’t already know what your favorite pie is! Why of all the nerve!”

And that is how Bitty talked himself right out of the AHL conversation with Jack. At least, for the time being. 

**

In the end, he makes two apples, two strawberries, and three peach pies, one for Kenny to keep at home.

Jack mutters under his breath about the Falcs needing a peach pie, and Bitty can absolutely do that once they get back home. 

The boys are wonderful at keeping him company in Kent’s big kitchen while he works, staying out of his way unless he directs them. 

“It’s not going to be a super exciting game. The Schooners are old rivals since before I came to the Aces,” Kenny shrugs, fish oven mitts on, and his own apron is really just Kit’s face blown up on a white background.

But the man’s fish oven mitt is–

Wait for it

– named Fish.

Because Kent is a master at naming things, obviously.

Kit Puurson is laying on the kitchen table from where Bitty banished her from walking along the counters while he’s baking.

“Now, don’t sell it short, sugar pie,” Bitty replies absently, makes the lattice on the last pie perfect. The A in the center is going to be great once the pie finishes baking. “It’s going to be exciting to see you play live no matter what.”

“Aw,” and Kent is smiling all nice at him now that he probably knows Bitty’s not gunning for his boyfr- for Jack, “you’re just saying that because it’s true.”

“Of course I am, Kent. It is true.”

“Any time you get bored of watching the Falcs, all you have to do is call me, Bits. I’ll have you on a plane in a hot minute,” and Bitty has to look over at him for that because it might have been a chirp at Jack, but the tone was a lil’ too serious for his taste.

“Who knows, Mister Parson, I might take you up on that someday.”

(When hell freezes over.)

“I hope so, Bits,” Kent’s eyes go to the masterpieces on the counter waiting for their turn in the oven, “I really hope so.”

*

At the game later that night, before the Aces take the ice, Bitty gets a Snap from Kent Parson. 

All the pie pans are licked clean. Not a crumb in sight.

Bitty sighs in unmitigated relief.

Even though he feels strange not wearing a Falconers or Samwell jersey when he’s at a hockey game, he can’t blame Jack for leaving their home team merchandise back in Providence. 

Earlier, Kent had tugged an Ace's jersey over his head and landed a cap as the cherry on top, winking at him while Jack was busy grumbling to himself about something or other. 

It feels odd to have someone’s name across his back other than his own (or frankly Zimmermann because Jack already gave him two hoodies and several other Falcs shirts, which was real kind of him, and they’re such nice clothes!), but his Mama would fly up from Georgia and whoop his butt good if she knew he’d refused a gift from a celebrity. 

So, even with Jack scowling, he accepts the jersey and hat for the game tonight.

He and Jack find their seats, right behind the bench, and it looks like they can finally settle in.

Jack keeps a running monologue of stats and predictions, leaning in to Bitty while eating the carrot sticks they'd packed in so Jack wouldn't be tempted with junk food.

This boy and his rigid schedule of cheat days. Honestly.

And Bitty is content to talk hockey and the upcoming season, is content to talk about the Samwell team and the next game coming up. 

He gets to watch Kent and the Aces make an opening lap around the rink to wave at their fans, laughs at the finger guns right in their direction.  

He settles on in to watch what will probably be a good game no matter what Kent said earlier, and of course, Jack chooses then to bring it up.

"Are you going to tell me about the Rebels anytime soon?” Jack is watching the game when he finally says it, something in his tone of voice that sounds a little closer to mad.

Bitty looks over, guilty as sin, and Jack looks back, all kind of calm.

“I...I didn’t make a decision or anything–” he starts then turns away from those blue eyes. “I-I should go get us something to drink! Jack, what do you want to–”

He’s halfway out of his chair, but Jack’s hand on his wrist stops him, pulls him back down to his seat.

“Don’t be mad!” Bitty sighs, loud and long, “I didn’t even know what to do when Mr. McLean came to see me.”

Jack hums, “You could have called your best friend who happens to be a professional hockey player.”

“That will be enough chirps outta you, Mister Zimmermann. You were already having a time with the changes to your medication, and I didn’t want to add anything else to your list.”

Jack guffaws at him, “that was two months ago, Bits, and my anxiety is under control. You could have told me anytime since then.”

“Well, I–” and Bitty has a moment where his mouth almost runs right away with him, and he almost tells Jack they ain’t datin’ so not everything has to be out in the open.

“You?”

And even though Kent has the puck, Jack’s eyes are all for Bitty.

“Jack,” he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right bud?” And that line between his eyebrows lets Bitty know Jack is actually concerned.

“Of course, Jack, I...I just. I don’t know, you’ve got your own career to worry about, and I don’t even know if I still want to play hockey after graduation, nonetheless with a team in the AHL.” He shrugs lamely, pretty sure Jack probably thinks he’s an idiot.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Bits. You don’t have to make a decision right away.”

“Well, I’ve got about five days until he wants to know if I accept their offer,” Bitty rubs the back of his neck, cheeks pink. 

“Oh. Well, you should let me read the contract anyway, eh? At the very least, it could help you make a decision if the offer isn’t for much.”

“If– I mean, if you want to? That would be real nice.”

“Euh. Tomorrow morning after my run, we’ll look at it.” Jack gives a sharp nod like he’s accomplished something, pats Bitty on the shoulder, and goes back to the game, just as pleased as pie.

**

The win was really something for the Aces, and he gets to meet Swoops, Poots, Scrappy, and Gopher when Kent tells them the baker of the pies is at the game.

“Oh my God, I ate like three pieces,” Swoops pats him on the shoulder and laughs.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it!”

“Oh totally. Gopher can’t help himself around sweets, so you might get a marriage proposal if you aren’t careful.”

“O-oh my! That’s mighty sweet, but I would hate to have to break his poor heart.” Bitty laughs a little and doesn’t notice how Jack’s eyes narrow. 

It’s entertaining as all get out when Jack groans at the amount of chirps he’s already gotten for being a Falc instead of an Ace.

“He’s got important...things in Rhode Island,” Kent had finally said to his team, which Bitty did not understand at all.

(But, it does make sense. Jack wants to stay close to Shitty and everyone from Samwell. He couldn’t be part of their nearly everyday lives if he had joined the Aces.)

They drop by Kent’s house to change clothes, and head out to celebrate the victory with the team, and all that fluttering around his room at the Haus is suddenly worth it when he looks damn good in his button-up with a black tank top underneath and a pair of shorts that look like they’ve been painted on his ass.

When he comes downstairs, Kent wolf whistles and Jack gets red in the face.

“Are you sure–” Jack starts, a little stuttery that makes Bitty preen.

“Mister Zimmermann, it’s best you do not finish that sentence,” Bitty snipes with his nose in the air.

It’s absolutely satisfying when two very cute boys dance with him at the club, grinding on him and having a heck of a good time.

He doesn’t notice Jack’s sour face until the third or fourth song in, and by then, Kent is making his way through the crowd. 

The hand on his arm pulls him out from between two different boys, and Bitty is just about to give whoever it is what for, but Kent just shifts to grip his hips and pulls him in, back-to-chest. 

And Lord help him, Kent is an amazing dancer. How does he even get himself into these things?

** 

Watching his favorite person, favorite people, dance is giving Jack too many Ideas.

He already has plenty when it comes to Bits. Even more when it comes to Kenny since they have history to fall back on, but for Kenny and Bits? His brain might shut down because Jack is even more invested in that. 

(Kenny hasn’t said anything, but Jack knows him, knows what the look in those eyes means when he watches Bitty. Instead of Kenny trying to talk him into asking Bitty for a date, maybe Jack should be trying to do the same. Or-or talking about if all three of them…?)

As is, Jack has a lot more thinking to do after this trip.

“I swear I take care of him as much as he lets me,” Jeff is saying, “it’s not like it’s his first year anymore. He’s way past all that, Jack.”

“I know,” Jack downs his beer, tries not to be too irritated at Swoops because of the attitude. Since he and Kenny have been talking again, he knows more about that first year with the Aces and Kenny’s struggles after the Draft than he’d wanted to know at the time. He hadn’t wanted to focus on the difficulties his best friend was having with a new career as a professional athlete, was more concerned about getting himself through rehab. 

He’s been finding out about those struggles and bad times, feels better knowing about all the things he’d missed out on back then because that means Kenny is talking to him again.

(“You cut me out!” Still haunts Jack sometimes when he thinks about how he did that to his best friend, his other half. At the time, it had seemed like a trade he didn’t have any other choice but to make, give up his best friend for the chance to get better.)

Jeff was the Ace Kenny billeted with his first year, and the two are close. Maybe even closer than Jack and Kenny had been in the Q. 

He doesn’t deserve to be jealous of that, but somehow, he still is.

“I did him wrong when he was in the Draft,” Jack finally admits to Swoops, “and I’m glad he had you and the team there when he needed you. I just...I just want to make sure he’s okay. Kenny means a lot to me.”

Swoops raises a brow over the beer he’s drinking. “He was pretty torn up over you that first year, Zimmermann. If I could have, I would have found you and punched you right in the nose for that kid.”

Jack shrugs a shoulder, “would have deserved it.”

“Yeah, yeah you would have,” but it seems like the salt has gone out of Jeff’s spine, and he slumps down in his seat across from Jack. “I had to tell the team not to mention your name for a long time. Not gonna lie, when you got picked for the Falcs, I drove over to his place and stayed the night in case he had a breakdown.”

And oh does that hit Jack right in the heart. 

“But, he was...not okay but okay? He was happy for you, is the point.”

Jack’s heart twists painfully at that, “Euh. He’s a better friend than I deserve.”

“You know, he told me about going to your college, right?”

Jack looks Swoops in the face, thinks he might get a little more clarity about that night of the Epikegster.

“Yeah, he did,” because Jeff can read the tell me more on Jack’s face, “and he beat himself up about it for months. Told me he ran off at the mouth because he was angry at you. Hell, you weren’t even happy to see him.”

At the time, no. No, he wasn’t. 

“It was...a shock. We both said some pretty harsh things, I think. But, we’ve come a long way since then.”

“I’d say so. He can say your name without looking like he’s going to start crying now at least.”

Kenny…

“I’m not going to do that again,” Jack feels like he needs Jeff to know this. “He’s stuck with me this time, eh?”

Swoops laughs and raises his glass for Jack to tap with his own, “here’s hoping, Zimmermann. Here’s hoping. But hey, at least he has someone to help pick-up the pieces.”

**

Kent manages to get them through the throng of people at the bar and get them bottles of water, bracketing Bitty in with his arms to keep people around from jostling them.

They’re both sweaty and panting after the last song, and Bitty doesn’t even know how he managed to survive pretty much humping a professional hockey player on the dance floor without embarrassing himself.

“That was so fun,” Kent leans down to talk in his ear since they’re so close to the music, “can we dance some more?”

“Of course we can, honey,” Bitty tilts so he’s talking in Kent’s ear, and it presses them closer together, “but do you need to check in with your team?”

The laugh is low against his neck and Bitty almost, almost shudders.

“My guys are big boys, Bits. They’ll be fine without me mother-henning them to death.”

“Well, all right then, handsome. You’d better get me on out on that dance floor before someone else does!”

And it’s another song or so before they get a slow one. Kent manages to maneuver them into a corner, and pulls Bits in for a slow dance.

“Lord, that was fun,” Bitty doesn’t think much of it, his hands around Kent’s neck. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in a while.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” and Kent gives him that big ole’ smile that makes his whole face light up, and Bitty can’t really blame just one bit for just how cute Kent is in that moment. “I’m glad you came with Jack, Bits.”

“Me too. I had reservations with how close we’re getting to playoffs, but I’m glad I could take the time.”

The hands on his hips squeeze once, and Kent’s face falls, his eyes darting away.

Bitty moves a hand from around his neck to his face and turns him right on back. “Hey, what is it? Should we go?”

“N-no, no. I was just–” and Kent looks back at him with a frown, leans in a little to talk quieter. “Do you still hate me? From when I came to your college?”

And oh. Oh my.

Well, looks like they’re going to have this talk, aren’t they?

“I mean, it’s okay if you do. I was...a dick, okay? I was a complete and total dick. Zimms and I talked about it some, so-so he gets why I said some of the things I said because I mean, he just–and-and I… There’s a lot is all I’m saying. It was awful, not-not all of it, but therapy kind of helps a little? Sometimes it helps I mean, dealing with it when I found him like that, and then later when Big Bob–”

Bitty gently puts a hand over Kent’s mouth to shush him on up. 

“Kent, honey,” he tries softly, misses how those eyes get wide above his hand, “I understand how someone can say mean things when feelings are hurt, and it seems like you and Jack have mended fences since then, right?”

Kent nods without dislodging his hand, but his eyes are shiny and just oh, that poor boy. Jack had talked to him about those days back in Quebec with Kent Parson as his right-hand man, Bitty knows Kent is the one that saved Jack’s life during that overdose. He knows how quiet and strained Jack’s voice gets when he talks about it, can only imagine how terrified Kent had been finding him, performing CPR, getting him to the hospital in Bad Bob Zimmermann’s car.

He can’t touch that painful past for either of them, wishes sometimes he can give that back when he hears how wistful Jack sounds, sees how Kent sometimes looks like he has regrets. No, Bitty can’t fix their past for them, give them back their innocent days, but he can help the people they are in the here and now, can’t he?

“Well, that’s good to hear. What’s really important is that you don’t do that again, all right? Don’t take your anger out on Jack even if he might deserve it sometimes, and don’t ever say those horrible things to him again. Okay?”

Kent blinks at him and his eyes go softly half-mast. He finally nods with Bitty’s hand still over his mouth.

“Good. Then, we’re all fine, right?”

Another nod and a squeeze to his hips.

“Wonderful. Now Mister Parson, we are going to finish this song and then go back to your boys to celebrate. Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll play ‘Crazy in Love’ later because that is one of my favorites.” He takes his hand away and grins up at Kent while his heart beats harder at the soft smile looking down on him.

“Good plan, B. If they play it, you can only dance with me, okay?”

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?”

Sure enough, the DJ plays ‘Crazy in Love’ and Bitty is pretty sure Kent’s the one that asked for it. That absolutely doesn’t mean he gives it any less ass shaking than it rightfully deserves.

**

He’s happy to see Jack laughing with Swoops and Poots when they finally tear themselves away from dancing, and Bitty absolutely refuses to drink whatever fruity thing Kent offers him because he’s not twenty-one quite yet, thank-you very much Mister Parson.

But the Aces are so nice when they leave, thanking Bitty again for his victory pies. He waves them off and doesn’t mind Jack’s hand at the small of his back when Kent guides them out.

(Later that night, he pretends he doesn’t hear Jack get up off the couch and walk down the hall to Kent’s room and softly close the door. But at that point, he’s not sure if he’s still a little jealous, or even who he’s really jealous of if he’s honest with himself.)

He eventually gets a few hours of sleep, and still wakes up god-awful early anyhow.

Since he’s been in this kitchen for three days already, he automatically puts on coffee and pulls out what he’s going to need to feed two big hockey players. 

He doesn’t even register Kent in the doorway watching him until the first cup of coffee is gone and the second is on the way there.

“Oh my Lord!” He fairly screams when he notices Kent watching.

“Sorry,” is totally unrepentant, the ass.

“You sure look it!” Bitty chirps back after his heart has climbed down out of his throat. “Goodness sakes, were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Nah, you just look cute in my kitchen, all busy and stuff. I like it.”

And well, that just takes the words right out of his mouth, so he goes back to make sure the bacon doesn’t burn while the quiche cools.

“Bits?!”

Jack is flustered and drenched from the shower, skittering almost right on the ground. He’s only got a towel around his waist and his hair is all over the place.

Bitty can resolutely say it’s the best morning in the history of mornings because that towel is awful short and Jack’s legs are awful long.

“I’m sorry! He just surprised me, we’re fine!” Bitty flaps his hands to shoo Jack out of the doorway. “Go on now and finish your shower. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Jack wipes water out of his eyes from his dripping hair and looks down at him silently.

“I promise, Jack. Go on now. Shoo! Naked is for the bathroom and the locker room.”

The slow grin is really just the nail in the coffin because no man should be that beautiful, it’s really not fair to the gay population. 

A glance at Kent’s shit-eating grin and he has to silently amend that statement. No men should be this beautiful.

While Jack trucks back down the hall, Bitty grabs paper towels to sop up the water he’d trailed, giving them up to Kent when he gets a frown for trying to clean up.

He tisks to himself and pours Kent a cup of coffee, mixing in the right amounts of cream and sugar, hands it to him when he throws away the wet paper towels.

He puts the bacon on another paper towel to get some of the grease while Kent sits down with his coffee. 

“I had so much fun last night. I can’t thank-you enough for taking us.” As he puts the quiche in the middle of the table.

“I had fun, too, B. Most the guys won’t dance no matter what, and you are awesome.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, sugar pie.”

Kent laughs at him, but reaches out to grip Bitty’s wrist before he can go back to the stove, “but, just so I know...you really don’t hate me anymore, right? We’re friends now?”

Oh, this must be the I need to tell you as Jack’s friend that me and him are datin’ talk. Lord, help him get through this conversation.

“Now, Kent. I already told you last night as long as you don’t hurt Jack like that again and have significantly groveled, we’re all fine.”

“Yeah, I know, but I mean, you and me. We’re fine, too, right?”

“Why of course we are.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure.”

Bitty pats Kent’s hand with the free one, “and you already know you can talk to me about anything, right? If things like that are bothering you, you can talk them out with me before you go and say something like that again, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Bits.”

“You’re welcome, Kent.”

He retracts his hand with another pat and goes back for the bacon, waiting for the something else that might be on Mr. Parson’s mind.

“Bits?”

Mmhm. There is it. “Yes, Kent?”

“You...can call me Kenny, too...I mean, if you want.”

The bacon plate in hand, and Bitty turns to look at the pink cheeks on Kent Parson, the way he doesn’t meet Bitty’s surprised eye.

(Even with all his team and the press coverage, he’s only ever heard Jack call Kent ‘Kenny.’)

“All right then, Kenny,” and oh is he grinning, thinking about chirping him just for fun. “I think we’re just about ready for breakfast.”

Nothing else comes of it, and Bitty’s not sure if he’s relieved or not.

 **

Jack slowly, methodically reads through the scans of the Rebels contract he’s got back at Samwell. Kent reads over his shoulder, eyebrows squinty in concentration.

Lord, they look so cute like that. It’s really surprising no one else has picked up on the dating yet because these two are absolutely transparent.

“So–”

He gets twin wait a minute fingers. 

“Well fine then,” and he meanders in the kitchen to see if maybe he should make those peppermint cookies after all. 

A batch later and both boys come on in and sit at the table with the tablet between them.

Bitty absolutely puts the cookies in the middle and pours glasses of milk. Kent looks from the plate to him with wide eyes. 

Two seconds later, he’s already demolishing his third.

Boys.

“All right, you two. Give me the low-down.” Bitty waves a hand over his shoulder and starts washing up dishes.

Jack tells him how it seems to be a right fair offer for a rookie hockey player. The money could be better, but well, it ain’t too shabby. 

Bitty sighs because the money is utterly obscene. More than his scholarship to Samwell for all four years.

Kent has no problem finishing Jack’s thoughts when he trails off, longer in the profession than Jack. He gives more examples of what bad contracts would probably be and makes Bitty wonder if this isn’t his first time helping with these sorts of things.

Well, as Captain of the Aces, he probably has. Not to mention how he babies his rookies. 

“So,” Bitty finally bites on his lip, looking down at the tablet, “so if...if I wanted to keep playing hockey after graduation. This is a good opportunity, is what you’re tellin’ me.”

Both Jack and Kent nod at him, serious as a heart attack.

“This is a good opportunity, Bits.”

“But,” Kent looks at him seriously, “we aren’t agents, either. This is from our experience. For a professional opinion, I can suggest some guys, so can Jack, that can haggle the contract for you.”

He stands at the sink with soapy hands braced on the edges, just looking out the window into Kent’s nice backyard. 

Kit is lounging on a dishtowel right there on the ledge to get some sun.

And just like his worst tendency, Jack stands up with a cookie and saunters over to stand beside him, back against the counter.

“It’s a lot to take in, bud,” is all growly and soft.

“I never imagined playing hockey after this year,” he admits, “buying a bakery, sure. Learning under other chefs, maybe taking a turn in another culinary art, yes. But, professional hockey? Hell, I couldn’t take a check without passin’ out a few years ago, Jack.”

Jack munches on his cookie, watching Bitty’s profile with soft eyes. “True. But, couple years ago, you wouldn’t have thought you’d end up Captain, and be on your way to the Frozen Four, eh?”

Kent shuffles his feet a little but boosts himself up on the counter beside Jack. “The AHL is like, our version of boot camp, you know? The kiddie pool before you hit the NHL. And there’s a four-season standard for that reason, B. You’ve got four seasons to play your best game and see if the Scouts are interested. I mean, a lot of guys that get a bad break and don’t make it, they can renew their contracts every four years or join the practice teams. Guys that still want to play hockey, like a lot of the guys on the Rebs.”

“That offer is for one season, though.” 

“Sure,” Jack fills in, meandering back for another, handing one off to Kent. “It’s a chance to get your feet wet, Bits, see if you can make the first year. I didn’t get a four-year from the Falcs until I got through the probationary period.”

“Lucky they didn’t make you billet, Jack. That’s usually a requirement.”

“Nah, I was old enough. Marty and Tater kept up with me, though. And I had Bits,” Jack shrugs and promises himself this is the last one even as he eyes the full plate.

He glances over at the serious expression on Bitty’s face, thoughts turning behind his eyes because now he’s thinking about it. On one hand, yes, he wants his bud to stay close, be on their sister team’s roster. Pawtucket is only twenty minutes or so from Providence, even closer than Samwell. 

(Jack wouldn’t have to lose him if Bits accepts the offer, keeps playing hockey. Jack thinks he’s terrible for wanting that as much as he does.)

For Bitty, the eminent future is looking closer and closer as this year draws to a close. Getting this offer was terrifying because of all those what if’s?

Kent hums around a mouthful, leans around Jack to look at him. “Sure, but you never know, B. You take Samwell to the ECAC, and there might be more people coming to talk to you.”

“Sugar pie, I’ve seen what you and Jack are up against. If there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure of, it’s that I’m not ready for the NHL, no matter how far we go this year. But–” he sighs a little.

“But what, bud?” 

“...the real question is, what if I’m not ready to give it up once the season’s over?”

Kent chuckles at him around the last bite, “then you’ll have a year with the Rebels to figure out if you’re done with hockey, or not.”

He catches his breath a little (could it really be as simple as that?).

“...that’s what I needed to know, thank-you boys.” He pats Kent on the leg and Jack on the arm, taking up the tablet, swinging right around to go back to the stove and wait for the next batch, hip hitched on the cabinets while he reads all over again.

He’s going to call Coach and Mama when he gets back to Samwell. Then on Monday morning, he’s going to call Mr. McLean and accept the offer.

 ** 

It’s not his fault most the people he’s friends with are so much taller than him. 

Really, it’s not. 

So when Kent just grabs him up before he and Jack get on the plane and hugs him tight for long minutes, Bitty’s feet dangle off the ground, but he’s pretty much used to it by now. Shitty broke him of it first, Holster helped.

“I’m going to miss you,” is said against his shoulder because he thinks Kent might just be tearing up.

Because of Jack.

Because Jack’s leaving.

Right?

With his feet still dangling, he pats the back of Kent’s head soothingly. “I’ll miss you too, honey. But, it’s not forever, right? We’ll see you again.”

Kent eventually put him down when Jack laid a hand to his shoulder and turned him in for a hug, and Bitty looks away when Kent wraps himself around Jack like an octopus, shoulders shaking just a little. 

Jack makes soothing circles on Kent’s back, talks softly in French, and just holds on for a few long minutes. Bitty makes himself busy by checking their luggage tags and slips away to get them some coffee from one of the twelve Starbucks in the airport.

A caramel frappuccino helps a little, and Kent just sweeps him on up again.

Jack keeps a hand on the back of Kent’s neck until the very last second, and something in Bitty’s chest tightens a little, but for the very first time, he’s not sure if it’s for Jack touching Kent like that or if it’s for Kent being all upset they’re leaving.

Something to think about another day.

As is, he’s got a thesis to write, a team to take care of, and a pair of professional hockey players that need fresh baked goods. His plate is pretty much full.

** 4

His vlog has always been somewhere to vent when he needed to, and even if he doesn’t have a huge following with millions of subscribers (yet), he didn’t think things would turn out this way.

But, the school newspaper he usually ignores puts it right out there for everyone to read.

Eric Bittle of Samwell’s Own Hockey Team is the First Out Captain in the NCAA

Dex is there to put a hand on his shoulder when he feels like he suddenly can’t breathe.

Someone watched his vlog and picked up on a few things apparently (“Never fall for a straight boy.” Those words are going to haunt him forever). 

He’s out to the team, but not the rest of campus. Good Lord. Hopefully no one pays it any mind, and they can just ride right along to the next game.

It does not go away.

Instead, the news catches fire, and before he knows it, his face is on ESPN as the first out NCAA captain. The rainbow background isn’t doing him any favors, but in between the panic in his brain, he thinks the yellow of the spectrum looks real nice with those shorts.

Chowder is the one that calls him in to look at the breaking story, looking over the couch to take note of Bitty’s face. 

He shows how much his reflexes have improved when he throws himself over the couch and latches on when Bitty’s knees fail and he almost sprawls himself all over the floor. 

His phone is in his hand, and Chowder is talking, saying something. He didn’t know when Ollie and Wicks, Dex and Nursey, Tango and Whiskey and Foxtrot, River, Hops, and Louis all got there crowded around him, but he just seems to blink and there they all are.

“I,” he starts loudly, immediately quieting everyone with a single word, “am going to make a pie. Everyone is welcome to hang out while I am doing so.”

So, he makes a pie and while he does, he makes a plan.

He talks out how this could affect the team’s chances of getting to the Championship, how this could affect how they play, how they plan to win the next few games. Bitty thinks it might be smart to step down as captain, being pragmatic as possible now that he’s not panicking about finishing the season and his senior year at Samwell. 

Whiskey, who he hadn’t been able to connect with all darn season (more n’ likely because he found Whiskey at that party kissing the Lax bro), smashes his fist on the table and says that’s a whole lotta bull. Bitty’s the one that got them this far, and he’ll take them the rest of the way.

(Bitty still has several talks in the next few days. With the coaching staff, with Samwell administration, with the entire gathered team. He gives all of them the same option. He’ll give up being captain or all out quit the team if this would hurt their changes to go to the Frozen Four. He gets the same denial, loud and belligerent from his whole team –which warms his heart, honestly. They’re all such good boys.)

They decide to handle it one game at a time, and break for the night. In his room with coppery fear still in the back of his mouth, he holds his phone and stares at the contact information for Home. 

He’s almost pressed it when a FaceTime request comes from Kent.

Almost at the same time Jack doesn’t bother to knock, but just throws his bedroom door open, looking like he’d run miles.

Throwing himself to his feet, both hands up, he probably looks terrified because Jack scared the absolute heck out of him. 

“Bits,” and now it’s Jack that’s got both hands up, coming at him, “Bits, it’s okay. It’s okay, bud.” And he really means to say something, but he’s just all caught up in Jack. He smells so good and feels so nice, he’s strong when Bitty feels weak and shaky, picking him right on up and sitting down to fold over him like a big Canadian blanket.

“What a horrible way to be outed,” he laughs through the shakes, but his voice is hoarse. “This is absolutely awful, Jack.”

“God, it really is. I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Bits.”

“Lord, I’m making a fool of myself. What’s done is done, I suppose.”

“Still, I want to be here for you.”

“Oh, honey. I appreciate it.”

And he just lets himself sink into Jack a little, burying his face in Jack’s neck, just tries to breathe.

His phone goes off again, and this time Jack picks it up, sees who it is, and taps the top of Bitty’s head with it.

He thumbs the request without looking, just keeping his face right where it is. This is the best he’s felt since that awful ticker tape just laid out his biggest secret, and put a big ole’ target right on his back.

“Hi Kenny,” and he’s proud his voice sounds as steady as it does.

“Hey B,” is so soft and concerned, his heart gives a little patter. 

Jack holds the phone for him with one hand, and squeezes him tight with the other. 

“This sucks so hard, B. I’m so sorry ESPN gives a fuck about college sports enough to do something shitty like this.”

He raises his face just enough for Kent to see half his face out of Jack’s bulk. “One of those silly human interest stories, I guess. Too bad they got a little too interested, huh?”

“You can totally sue the shit out of them, okay? B, I know a guy. He could get you millions.”

“That won’t make everything right, Kenny, but thank-you for being here with me.” He gives a shuddering sigh, “I’m still going to have to deal with the backlash, and as much as I hate it, so will the team. I haven’t talked to the administration or the coaches, but it might be smart if I step down for the rest of the season, maybe quit outright. Then the boys might still be able to make it to the Frozen Four…”

“You’re two games away, B. You can’t give up now!”

“Agree. You got them here, they’ll have your back, Bits.”

“Kenny, Jack this is hockey. Everyone we go against from here on out is going to be gunning for us. The things they’re going to say to the boys–”

“They’ll handle it. Trust me,” Jack soothes, “they won’t let you give up either.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll see come Monday,” he’s tired, but there’s no slowing down right now, even if Kent is petting Kit and Jack’s lap is absurdly comfortable.

“Besides,” Kent continues, “you’re not alone, B. Plenty of us in the NHL. We’re just not like, out out. Maybe to our teams and stuff, not like, outed on ESPN or anything, fuck those guys. You seriously don’t want me to contact my guy for you? He got 6.8 million dollars for a celebrity case–”

“So you’re out to your team then, Captain Parson?” He blinks because the way Kent just came out with it, not a stutter one, shakes him.

“Huh? Well, yeah, of course I am. I’ve been on the Aces for years, Bits. These guys are like my family, so yeah, they know.”

“O-oh.”

Kent blinks at him, pauses. “Ah, I didn’t come right out and tell you, but yeah. Me too, so it’s okay, B. You’re not alone.”

It’s that moment when Jack leans down, shifting so Bitty’s looking up at him. “You’re not alone,” Jack repeats softly, “I kiss boys sometimes, too. None of that changes how good you are at hockey, and none of that changes you, okay Bits?”

And Lord above help him. He throws both arms around Jack, biting his lower lip between his teeth, and shaking like a leaf in a wind storm.

“Jack...Kenny…thank-you, boys. Just when I need you, and there you are.” He chokes a little, and there’s Jack folding down around him, there’s Kent holding Kit closer to the phone, sending virtual purrs and cuddles.

He doesn’t feel that bad wrapping his legs around Jack’s waist shamelessly, locking his ankles in the back, and just not facing the world for a while. 

It gets a little better when Jack tries to squeeze into a pair of his shorts while Kenny is brushing his teeth and talking about the camp they had at a local rink, running drills and plays with some of the high school kids from around the area. 

But everything in the world absolutely pauses when Jack clears his throat awkwardly

And really, God Bless Canada. 

The little sigh that comes out of him is echoed from his phone, and yes Kenny, they do have good taste.

“I can’t sleep in these, Bits, ah, sorry.”

But that color blue stretched taunt against Jack’s big thigh is just the best sight he’s probably ever seen.

“I’m sorry, but that’s all I’ve got to offer. I can go talk to Dex?” Because Chowder has wider shoulders like Jack, but is about a foot shorter.

“Eh, not necessary.”

And well, yes. Bitty knows Jack wears cute little briefs. They were on a team together, have spent time in the locker room, have seen the occasional moment before towels go on. It’s men’s sports for crying out loud. 

But none of that, absolutely none of that, prepares him for Jack shimmying out of those shorts for black briefs that absolutely mold to his behind and cup the front of him. The real coup de gras is that t-shirt coming off, and heaven help him, it’s muscles for miles. 

Only those little briefs between Bitty and what the Good Lord gave Jack, the definition of fine walking across the room like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. 

Bitty unabashedly watches, lips parted, cheeks a soft shade of pink. 

Jack closes the bathroom door, smirking where Bits can’t see, muffled noises as he roots around in the bathroom for a spare toothbrush. It gives Bitty can just take a second to himself to take in this whole situation. 

He’s been outed on a national sports network that may or may not take the question of the Rebels right out of the equation

Chances of going all the way to the finals is looking slimmer and slimmer the more he thinks about it

Jack and Kenny confirmed some of his suspicions and it’s an absolute crime and a blessing that they’ve found each other again

Jack has gotten bulkier than Bitty realized in the last year and a half playing for the NHL and his ass should be marked as a dangerous weapon

He hasn’t answered any of the phone calls from home

Still, Coach sent him a text, Call your mother. She’s worried about you.

 And top of the list, Jack Zimmermann is in his bathroom, shirtless, barefoot, after just having verbally come out to him.

If there was ever anyone that deserves to be up for Sainthood, it’s this good ole’ Georgia boy Right. Here. 

With his head in his hands, he groans softly, and scurries to throw on his own sleep clothes, stripping down without a thought more than those short on Jack and those shorts off Jack.

“I absolutely feel you,” a breathy chirp, and he forgot Kenny probably saw the entire thing.

Bitty spins, almost ready to start getting on a boat down that river called denial when he realizes Kenny is giving him the most devilish looking smile.

“It’s really unfair that he’s a hockey God and blisteringly hot to boot.”

“We are the best of friends, I’ll have you know Mister Parson. Jack doesn’t even see me that way, even after tonight. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s got his eye set on someone prettier than little ole’ me.”

He throws the covers back to busy his hands, but can spare a second to put some charm into it and look back at Kenny with a wink. 

It’s either the best or the worst timing because Kenny gets this look on his face, opening his mouth for something that might have been good or bad, when Jack comes out of the bathroom smelling like mint and looking like a touch could burn you down to the ground.

Kenny looks at him for a few long seconds while they’re climbing into bed, and chirps them about hands above the comforter and hockey bros cuddle like champs before he yawns and finally hangs up for the night.

The sheet gets maneuvered between them so he’s not going to be tortured most of the night with only his sleep shirt and pants between them–

(and those sinful underwear, he’s never going to forget those)

–so it’s suspiciously easy to drop off with Jack’s arm around him and snoring in his ear.

**

The next two games are utterly brutal. 

Ice bags are wrapped around his shoulder while he sits in his spot in the locker room, forearms on his knees to just hurt while Chowder is talking at his right and Dex at his left.

The bruises tomorrow are going to be beautiful, but heck, what’s some bruises when Samwell is officially in the Frozen Four.

Lord, they made it.

And he will start celebrating, right after he can raise up his arm again.

Oh, that’s going to be sore tomorrow. Making pies for the campus captain club is going to be awful, isn’t it?

He manages to get the ice bags off in time to walk with the boys back to the Haus, Ollie already scooping up his bag and Chowder, bless his heart, hovering anxiously right by him the whole walk there.

They don’t make him do a keg stand this time, thank goodness, but the party celebrating their win is well underway in less than an hour.

It’s real nice when the Lax bros bring in a stack of pizzas and slap him on the back in congratulations, like he hadn’t just been outed on national television. (He loves Samwell so much.) Chad L. says a whole bunch of something that Bitty tries to follow and ends up handing him a plate with pizza and accepting a piece of pie in exchange. 

The fire extinguisher is in plain sight to remind the footballers what could happen if they don’t behave, and at least two of his boys hang around him most the night, bracketing him on both sides to keep an eye on him. Ollie and Wicks pop around the corner periodically anyhow.

He catches Chowder taking a picture for social media, has a second of panic, almost tells his sweet son not to do that because everyone knows, but shuts his mouth last minute and straightens up to grin for the next one.

**

The night the news came out, Bitty changed his social media to private, hoping to avoid some of the homophobic comments. Since the morning after (and it’s a crying shame he missed seeing those little black briefs again since Jack was already dressed by the time he got up), he’s been talking to pretty much everyone.

Most of all, his Mama and Coach...and Mr. McLean.

Jack squeezes his hand, and Bitty bites his lip, but still, “I’m afraid I don’t think I should accept your offer after all. This isn’t going to blow over any time soon.”

“Mr. Bittle. I’m interested because you’re fast, you’ve got soft hand, and you’re a good fit for the Rebels. As far as I understand, this isn’t going to change any of that.”

“O-oh!”

“If you want to play hockey, Mr. Bittle, you can do that with us.”

And it’s there when he looks in Jack’s blue, blue eyes, when he thinks about Ollie and Wicks, when he thinks about Shitty being so kind when he’d come out to the first person on the team. It’s there when he thinks about being terrified at that first check practice, when he thinks about how dang far he’s come in four years.

(It’s tough, but you’re tougher.)

“I want to play hockey, Mr. McLean.”

“That’s the spirit Mr. Bittle. I’ll send you training camp information in the next week or so. Welcome to the Pawtucket Rebels.”

If Jack holds him tight while he almost shakes apart once he hangs up the phone, well, only Chowder and Dex will ever tell a soul because they fell on him and Jack like a ton of bricks, hugging him and laughing.

**

Shitty, Ranson, Holster, and Lardo make the trip from Boston to show up on the Haus doorstep before they’ve even finished clean-up from the party the night before.

Before he knows it, he’s got Shitty crying all over him, telling him he’s so proud and Bitty’s just the best little captain there ever was.

It’s so nice because Shitty is silly as hell, but he’s an amazing friend in times of need. 

And he can’t say it isn’t nice when Shitty picks up the loud speaker and starts shooing the rest of the hanger-oners out.

“Frozen Four!” Ransom crows, “our guys are going to kick some ass.”

“You said it, bro,” Holster warmly pats Bitty on the shoulder with one of those big hands while this pie is just coming along easily enough.

The flinch when the bruises ache is enough for more ice bags to get wrapped around him, and Shitty to shake a finger in his face, talking about taking care of himself. It might not be a concussion, but they’ve got serious games coming up, and he needs to be tip top if he’s going to take them all the way.

Bitty takes it to heart and lets them baby him for a few hours.

It does get worse when Dex and Chowder see Holster pulling the neck of his shirt up a little to check how bad it is, and then he’s got more hockey players in his kitchen butting in. Luckily, Dex is getting just as good at making pie as Bitty, and finishes up the lattice work perfectly.

He talks strategy with Ransom and Holster at the kitchen table while Lardo makes another pot of coffee, and Chowder subtly slips the bottle of ibuprofen next to him. Whiskey listen to them strategize for the upcoming games, and my, don’t it feel so normal.

He hugs Shitty again, holds on just as tight as he can, and thanks the Good Lord for such amazing friends.

**

Mama and Coach are more understanding than he ever would have imagined, taken in account what a shock it is just to come across the television like that.

“Dickey, honey, now you know,” and she has to pause because Lord, his Mama is crying, “you know you can always come home. Always. No matter what. We love you. We love you and everything else, we can figure all that out.”

And so, since he’s never said it, only thought about what could happen, he tells her, “Mama… I’m gay.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know and that’s-that’s fine. We can figure it all out. But, you can come home sometime before the semester ends, can’t you?”

“N-not while we’re close to the Championships, Mama. I-I can’t–”

“Junior.” 

And now he’s glad he just called instead of trying to FaceTime. So glad he doesn’t have to look Coach in the face right now.

“You’ve done a heck of a job this year. Been a good captain. You know me and your mama are proud, don’t you Junior?”

And there goes his lip all trembling, his eyes getting hot. Only Jack squeezing his hand keeps him together at all.

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Good. You just keep fighting. We’ll be here cheering you on, all right?”

His breath hitches in his chest, “yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my boy. You can do it, Junior. They’re tough–”

“–but I’m tougher,” and he’s covering his eyes, shoulder hunching down. Jack goes from holding his hand to pretty much lifting him up enough to slide on Jack’s lap.

“That’s right, son. You sure as hell are.”

He sighs out, a soft noise. “I am, Daddy. We made the Frozen Four.”

“Go get ‘im. Me and your Mama are behind you all the way.”

And even if Coach gets squicky when it’s time for I love you, Bitty manages to get it out anyhow.

“Love you too, son. Now you gotta stop, or else your mama’s gonna drown me.”

The thick laugh is so much better than crying. Jack thinks so too apparently, squeezing tight while Bitty’s sitting on his thighs.

If he thinks there’s a kiss pressed to the top of his head, well, he’s just going to blame it on being emotionally overwrought and leave it at that.

**

He didn’t bother with pads, just pants, sweatshirt, gloves, stick, helmet, and skates. The ice is quiet as can be in the morning light bouncing off Faber, making it beautiful.

Kenny’s far enough ahead of them that he’s on a break from practice, already home making brunch. “Big Red is going to be killer, B. Cornell is ruthless. Fighting Hawks from North Dakota.”

His skates cut through the ice until he’s gliding, hitting the long stretch, pumping as fast as his legs can take him, cycling the puck. 

He doesn’t reply to Kenny, just listens while his muscles burn, his mind works, he sees the next move like a playbook. 

Over the past four years, he’s gotten stronger, faster. Sure, he’s smaller than the average hockey player, but that don’t mean weak. Everyone they’ve played already figured that one out now didn’t they?

His arms and shoulders burn when he swings high, throws some muscle in it when he slaps the puck right in the sweet spot of the net.

“No fair, B. I want to watch!”

“I’d have to set my phone in the stands, sugar pie.”

“If that means I get to watch you do suicides, I’m on board.”

Bitty laughs out loud because Lord, he sounds like Jack. 

“Trying to kill me before practice?”

“Captain’s prerogative, babe.”

Obligingly, Bitty sets up his helmet, laying on it’s side, throws a t-shirt in it to hold the phone up, and FaceTimes Kenny.

He gives the captain of the Aces a wink and then takes off to the blue line. He’s got his game face on, stick balanced perfectly, moving like his ass is on fire.

After a good turn out, he skates back to the stands where Kenny is very close to the screen. 

“Well, there you go, Captain,” he snickers, scooping up the whole thing so Kent goes around the rink for some easy, cool-down laps with him before the boys start meandering in for practice. “That what you wanted to see?”

“You? Are fast, B. That was incredible.”

“Oh, sugar pie,” he grins down at Kent’s face in his helmet, “you say the nicest things.”

“Hey, I’m not being nice, Bits. I’m saying as a professional hockey player that you? Are fast.”

“Well, so are you. Short guys like us have a tendency to out-maneuver the big guys.”

“I’ve based most of my career on being the fast guy on the team, B, but I don’t know how I’d hold up against you.”

“Mmhm. I also haven’t been playing professionally for the last few years, tearing the fire out of my knee, Kent.” Very serious because he’s counted how many nights he’s seen ice bags over that knee in the last few weeks.

“Also true. It might be surgery for me this summer, but that should do a lot. I’ll have maybe ten years instead of five.”

“So you said. Your doctor is talking about it again?”

“...yeah. He says it should do wonders for where I’m at right now, and this might be the year to just do it and get it over with.”

“Three-time Stanley Cup winner is where you’re at right now, sugar pie.”

The laugh is nice, but now he’s wondering if he can convince Kenny to come to Providence and stay with Jack during his recovery. That’ll let Bitty be close enough to come over and take care of him while his knee heals. He’s already thinking it over when his third lap is coming up.

“B.” Startles him right out of his thoughts.

“Kenny?”

And something is there in the way Kenny is looking at him from the screen. “Be careful at the game tonight. Watch out for the Minnesota D-Men, okay?”

“Thank-you, sugar. You watch on out for those Rangers.”

“I will. Just send me a text when the game is over, even if I’m in overtime, okay?”

“You know it, honey. Now go on and get a nap. We’ve both got a busy night tonight.”

**

This could be the last time he steps out on the ice. This could be it. All of it could end right here right now. 

They’ve got to play their hearts out. He’s got to give it everything he’s got. For himself, for the boys, for Samwell. 

It comes down to this, facing Minnesota’s line like there ain’t no going back.

**

He sits on his bed, faggot and fairy in his head from the game earlier. He doesn’t accept Jack’s call because his face is a mess.  

Well, serves him right because Jack just shows up at the Haus an hour later when Bitty has finally got it together.

**

The check is absolutely brutal. 

He used to be floored by it, curled up in a little ball on the ice, couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could barely breathe. 

But not this damn time. Oh hell no. 

It’s fast when he’s back up on his feet, shoving his way through bigger men than him and stealing that puck right on out from under them. 

He feels like he’s got wings on his feet when he glides by them like they’re just standing still. 

**

Mama and Coach are here because they’ve come down to the last stand. 

This is it.

Jack and Kenny are both there and where in the world they got #15 Bittle jerseys, he will never know.

Number #82 has already been gunning for him, but the last one is the very last of Eric Bittle’s patience running right on out.

His heart is racing, his legs burning, skates cutting ice as he steers around players, gritting his teeth against the ache, and for the first time, he’s gonna stand up, holler out that no, he’s not gonna take that nonsense lying down.

The moment slows down for long enough that he feels weightless when he pushes off, is airborn, shoving all his weight right into #82 just as they’re at the Samwell bench and shove the both of them right in with the boys.

It’s a tangle of arms and legs and skates and sputtering. 

“Try me again, asshole,” Bitty sneers in #82’s face with the face guards the only thing between them. 

“Homophobic prick!” One of his boys shouts.

Coach and the boys pick him up (shocked because he doesn’t usually have a need for potty mouth thank-you very much), want him to go get checked out while the ref blows the whistle just after Whiskey gets the puck, and now it’s all on Samwell.

He doesn’t get a penalty, thank goodness, and argues loudly with Coach to let him back in the game, he needs to get back. It’s not like he lost a tooth, just some scratches from going over. It’s a long look in his eyes before Coach just throws up his hands and shoos him back. 

And Bitty’s not thinking about Jack and Kenny and Shitty and Lardo and Ransom and Holster and Mama and Daddy and everyone else up in those stands screaming for them when he hits the ice again. He’s not thinking about how badly he hurts or the scratches on his face. He’s not thinking about his thesis or graduation or his spot in Jack’s guest room. 

He’s only thinking about the tied score, the next play, and how they’re going to show these away boys exactly who’s house this is.

**

And his arms strain when his stick comes back, when he slams that puck with every ounce of strength he has left. His heart thuds hard in the back of his mouth when their goalie’s hand shoots out, tries to catch the puck, just the tips of his gloves skimming the surface.

The alarm blares and the scoreboard changes so fast, Bitty’s not really sure what happened until his boys slam into him, gather all around him, screaming.

He’s dazed, fingers limply holding his stick, eyes still stuck on the scoreboard even when they lift him up, stick and all.

The crowd takes to the ice, and he gets his helmet off in time to get hugs from Mama and Coach, in time to accept the huge trophy, him and Coach and Dex holding it up with all the boys around them just a hooting and a hollering all over the place. 

Ransom and Holster catch him right up off his feet, crying all over him when they tell him how proud they are.

The interviews shake him out of the daze and he tells the viewers at home that the team fought hard for this and earned it all themselves. He’s proud to be their teammate and captain, he’s proud to be a Wellie, and darn it, their hard work paid off.

Just as he turns, sees Chowder going past with three of their guys behind him, singing the Samwell song at the top of their lungs, he catches Jack and Kenny standing on the ice by the boards, watching him with soft smiles on their faces, and his eyes get hot abruptly, get full as can be.

Center ice, just like with the Stanley Cup. And this ain’t that now. This? This one is all his.

He feels his lower lip tremble just a little, puts his hand up to stop it, but dang it if Jack and Kenny aren’t just easing across the ice toward him with those smiles and his name across the back of their shoulders.

He gets a hand on the back of his neck and a shoulder to hide his face while the whooping and celebrating gets loud, loud, loud.

Lord, he’s going to vlog the hell out of this tomorrow.

**

Shitty is naked. 

While it’s not new (they’ve been to Haus 2.0, and yes, Shitty was naked there too. Good times, really), Bitty has always had reservations about him being skin-to-fabric on that dang couch. Who knows what he might get. Well, all that spilled tub juice probably goes a long way to sanitize. Or so he says to keep his revolution to a minimum. 

Watching Kenny get his ass handed to him from Lardo is hilarious. Watching Jack give in and have a chugging competition is even better. 

He’s lucky the ECAC playoffs beat the NHL by almost a month. Jack and Kenny have another week before they start getting serious. 

Ransom and Holster are talking animatedly with the Waffles, back slaps all around. He’s pleased as can be when Shruti, Sharon, Edgar, Chad L., and some other captains drop by to say congratulations and have a piece of pie. He doesn’t see Jack pause over his shoulder while he talks up a storm, doesn’t see the considering look on Jack’s face.

Something about this Bitty hits him harder than the last four years, makes that perpetual tightness in his chest mean something completely different than anxiety.

He should have realized it long before his graduation, should have been terrified of it all happening again. 

Bitty affects him in so many of the same ways Kenny does, and it’s an amazing yet terrifying thing for Jack Zimmermann. Feeling like this person you’re looking at is literally made for you. 

And just as he starts taking a step forward, pushing himself in to stand at Bitty’s side like he’s done the majority of their friendship, Kenny ducks out of nowhere and takes him by both biceps. His expression is desperate.

“You’ve got to stop her. Zimms. Zimms, be on my team. Right now.”

It’s so absurd because it’s Kenny and also because he knows no one is beating Lardo. 

Ever.

Anything else is wishful thinking.

He casts a wistful look at Bitty, animated with his big win, and if Jack literally has his heart in his eyes until they’re out of sight, then only Chad L. from would have seen it.

**

Later on after the captains have said good night and some of their...guests have started staggering out, cheering for Samwell, for hockey, for tub juice, and for pie. 

For this one, Bits really couldn’t take credit because Dex really made most of them, bless his heart.

Moving around the party-goers with a spare trash bag to pick up a bit, he spots someone sneaking upstairs, pauses to squint up in case he needs to charge on up there and firmly remind people the upstairs is off limits. 

Or break out the fire extinguisher.

Either way.

...but he knows that ass in those jeans, and gasps softly as Jack’s plaid is bouncing up the steps ahead of Kenny. 

And, he can let out a sigh, catch just a little bit of bittersweet. But, if there is anything Eric Richard Bittle prides himself on, it’s being a good friend. If Jack and Kenny needed a-a wingman or whatever, then he’s just going to dang well be that.

He keeps an eye on the stairs for the rest of the night for more than one reason. No one, no one, is going to disturb them when they’ve finally come this far, and even if he silently dreads it, hopes they at least used his room instead of a bathroom for heaven’s sake.