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cainfm · 5 years

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『BILL SKARSGARD ❙ NONBINARY』 ⟿ looks like CAIN ROMANOV is here for THEIR SENIOR year as a LITERATURE student. THEY are 25 years old & known to be RIGHTEOUS, TRUE, EVASIVE & GUARDED. They’re living in MORIS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 21. EST. SHE/THEY.

hdsjnf hello all ... it is james again ... here with another ... replacing noelle with cain bt it’s fine im fine. i’ve hit muse limit u wn’t hear frm me again ... so hit tht like button .. this isnt the best intro ive done bt mostly bc im just kinda like ... taking an old one n rewriting it as i go

TW CULTS, HEROIN USE / ADDICTION, DRUG ADDICTION / USE, ABUSE, PSYCHOLOGICAL / EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, PTSD, ANXIETY, TRAUMA.

aesthetics.

dangling limbs from tree branches, yellowed book pages, opened bottles of vintage wine, oversized sweaters and deep under eyes, bleached denim, worn leather gloves, cat hair against black cloth, fields of wheat, broken windows, descending staircases, tight-lipped smiles during public appearances, golden skies, light spilling from windows, stumbling over one’s own words, wire-framed beds, linens, wool scarves, making the wrong decisions; running, from others and yourself.

basic info.

full name: cain alexei romanov

nickname(s): n/a

b.o.d. - feb 19th, pisces :) happy birthday!

label(s): the connard (previously), the escapist, the facade, the fallen, the lothario (previously), the pariah, the phoenix, the puppeteer (previously), the sybarite, etc.

height: 6′4″ ... bruv.

hometown: stratford, connecticut

sexuality: bisexual uwu?

stats

inspired by: i feel like i did ... have an inspiration for him but i don’t ... remember ... so ur not getting this one ... i might edit this later if smth pops into my head but. alas.

biography.

born to connecticut senator vaughn romanov and well known philanthropist adelaide romanov, they were born into a life of privilege in a very prominent new england family. they’re the eldest of five in a very nuclear, picture perfect, preppy chic family.

was brought up to be a class a, outstanding, perfect citizen. golden child to the all american family (willfully ignoring the fact that his father came from russian immigrants). cain listened, obeyed, never strayed outside the lines.

it was always intended for cain to take on after their father, to follow in his footsteps and become a politician too. there were several expectations for them, including joining model un, debate, deca, splitting time between soccer, track, basketball, lacrosse, becoming class president, and all while maintaining a valedictorian - worthy gpa.

even volunteered on the weekends at homeless shelters and food banks, proving to everybody in their community just how much of a gem they were, darling, perfect member of society.

always eager as a child, eager for approval, eager to impress and wow and dazzle authorities and adults alike - cain never really had a problem with any of it? always attended church on sundays and sometimes even wednesdays. participated in family dinners and christmas photoshoots and new years eve parties, easter egg hunts and family reunions.

born and raised in stratford, super close to lovell to the point where it’d always been expected that the romanov children would simply just go to radcliffe, as did their parents. their home in stratford is a big, fancy, seven bedroom eight bath house with two fireplaces and an expansive dining room. no pool, but a sturdy treehouse made by scratch.

however. their model citizen persona was just that, a persona - a charade. in the community and to his family, cain was a hardworking citizen who upheld standards, a leader. to classmates and peers, from elementary to college - cain was the devil themself.

arrogant, harrowing, an outright bully who tore down others when they felt like it, often unprovoked. they were the senator’s son, and a rich one at that - rules never applying because they simply never existed for them, the upmost privilege because of who their family happened to be and their place in society. tattlers of their behavior faced far more consequence than cain ever did, or would.

the sort of person who’d genuinely look down at someone if they had less than them - a narcissistic dickhead who cared about two or three people, tops, outside of their family. was never physically violent, nor did they raise their voice, but that’s what made them all the worse. made them all the scarier. spewed classist bullshit with ease and was addicted to the power high it gave them.

their only redeeming quality was their protectiveness over their family - never the best person, but family is family, and they thought it ought’d to be protected.

went into political science and business to please their father, mainly, every step they made - every path cain went down, every choice from the electives they took in high school to the brand of shoes they wore, was to build them into the ideal presidential candidate.

probably joined a frat though cain never participated in parties too often, known for keeping their composure even when others resorted to violence, or got too drunk, or caused any public commotion, because they didn’t like to leave a bad image for the press. did their drugs in private but left nothing to the imagination, publicly.

but alas. during college, two very important series of events occurred.

seeking thrills, searching for fun in all the wrong places - cain became a middle-man between dealers and producers. never dealt it, and never produced it, but simply transported it between one another; the less everybody knew about each other the better. it was always a very hushed operation. one that they could’ve profited much off of, though money was never the motive for them.

and then he met earl and may meyers, fellow volunteers at a thanksgiving food drive; an older couple immediately drawn to cain, reasonable considering just who their father was, and cain to them. they can’t tell you what about the couple was so appealing - the air around them was something else entirely; some called it unhinged, others would call it comforting. but they were kind folks, down to earth - very religious, and very warmhearted. liked his name, a lot - like in the bible, they’d say, and laugh, and pat his arm. they would say, on occasion, that they reminded them of their late son.

it’d happened towards the end of their junior year, a few years after they’d gotten involved in the drug business - and the meyers were volunteering more and more, always at the same places as cain. the same times, too, as if they were learning his schedule. in retrospect - it was odd, but cain’d never suspected a thing. they kept talking, and it became a genuine friendship - a secured vote in the next election.

it only took a few months into this that they’d begun to talk about religion more. the sin of wealth, and god choosing only a select few when he cleanses the earth. only the worthiest souls. they’d eventually get into the rhythm of telling cain they were special - that they could see they’d be selected, see it in their aura, in their dreams, god sending them messages, etc. most would find it to be absolutely ... bonkers.

but it was oddly appealing to cain - like, maybe i am being constrained by capitalism. maybe i am disappointing god - aren’t i a devoted follower? it felt nearly ridiculous, but it seeped into their mind. psychological manipulation, lasting over months and cain unsuspecting. as if they could ever be the one manipulated. but the meyers could ask cain to jump, and they’d simply say - how high?

soon enough, earl and may told them that they were moving. that there’d been so many more like them and that it was time to join them, time to prepare - to get ready for the rapture. cain held off at first, finishing up their first term of their senior year and their life planned right before their eyes. everything they’d ever worked for. their loyal companions and close-knit family, their side-business that’d only gotten stronger - a long-term girlfriend and the engagement ring that burnt in their pocket, made their heart beat twice as fast at the very thought. still the same as before, cruel without a cause, but still surrounded by those who loved them - who could find something in them to love.

but a month into their senior year, cain had a sudden change of heart. they were ready, now, if not now then never later. all because of a third event. a surprise. a shock. a betrayal.

they had discovered that they were not their father’s child - not at all, not even by an inch. they were someone else’s, completely. their mother had broken down and cracked, after a particularly straining christmas party. the discussion was long, and the heartbreak only grew. the anger only grew. the hurt - it grew. more and more, with each pitiful sob their mother gave them. it was a mistake - a one night stand in a fit of petty anger in the very early stages of their marriage. and only cain knew - like they had to carry this weight, now, that they never asked to have.

it was the kind of information that broke a person. cain idolized their parents, done everything they’d ever asked - ever expected, and beyond, let them mold them like putty into whatever form they wanted. only to find out that in the end, it didn’t matter. it never mattered, if cain wasn’t the blood child of vaughn. if their mother - a woman who hadn’t a bad bone in her body, was nothing but a cheat and a liar.

cain unraveled.

they spent the first week getting into an altercation with near anybody who looked at them wrong. physical, usually - though arguments arose frequently as well. with no explanation, only thrown fists - often drunk, or high, or sober too - it never mattered. they spent a night in county jail, it’d gotten so bad. it seemed to have no end.

right until new years, just after midnight, when cain had disappeared without a word. it was treated like a missing persons case, though there was no evidence of foul play or kidnapping, and not much could be done about it.

BEGINNING OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS

the only people who knew of cain’s whereabouts were the meyers - because they had left together. a last minute decision that, if they had only waited a simple minute longer, would’ve never happened. a mistake they desperately wished they could take back. a mistake that led to another event - maybe the most important one of them all.

they’d gone only hours away from stratford, and lovell, the border between new york and connecticut and not as far as cain had initially thought, but deep, deep into the woods. that was where the cult’d been. they wore white linens and cotton, but never mixed. technology banned, prayers and daily chores. it was natural, at first. for the first three months, that was.

it could’ve been grand. it was peaceful, and mind-clearing, and they treated cain as if their birth was a sign from the angels. cain come to undo his past. a potential leader. but the longer they stayed, the more apparent it became that they weren’t all that the cult had wanted, so desperately, to believe. once they began to slip up, once members became displeased - that’s when the punishments began to occur.

sometimes once a week, but sometimes - and, later, much more so, multiple. the memories are suppressed, for the most part - but there are some things they simply can’t - the hands, they can’t forget. pulling, and tugging, and gripping - begging, asking him to repent, please, repent. their head held underwater, counting seconds until their vision’d eventually darken and go out, only to be pulled out gasping and sobbing. these memories stay - these memories repeat themselves, like a record stuck on repeat, days blurring into one another.

when they tried to fight back - they were subdued. heroin was the first step. little by little, everyday - enough to leave them in a high they wouldn’t remember; enough to burn a hole in their memory. and with these dimming memories, cain’d begin to sneak paper and pencil into their living arrangement, their room, writing everyday. wrote as much as they could remember from home - about their family, their life before it all - the people they loved. they couldn’t remember what they’d written, some days.

and when those notes were found, bound by thread taken from their own clothing to form a shabby book - that’d been the final straw. dragged, kicking and screaming - mind-numbingly high, into place. the twisted reenactment, retelling of cain’s demise. how exactly he’d gotten his scar. it would’ve been near perfect, if they had only stayed still and let them brand the mark into his forehead. but instead - they settled, eventually, for the chest. then - the left cain to die in the middle of the woods. in the middle of nowhere. no trails or campsites to follow, nothing at all. nothing but trees. nothing but his notes and the clothes on their back. they hadn’t even known what day it was - almost forgotten the year, too.

cain should’ve died there, but cain got up. and they ran. and ran. and ran. until they hit something, eventually. a road. it’d been pure luck that they’d found a car near immediately afterwards, whose driver wasn’t doubling as a murderer, who took them to the hospital - and who gave cain that chance to live. they were found on new years, a full cycle - a full year in the cult that’d changed their life.

END OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. STILL MENTIONS OF TRAUMA / MENTAL HEALTH / RECOVERY / ADDICTION BEYOND THIS POINT.

after being reunited with their family in the hospital - everything went by very fast. they couldn’t recognize their youngest sibling, but they also couldn’t remember why they’d left in the first place. couldn’t remember the name of their girlfriend, but the color of her hair and the way she smelled. they couldn’t give answers to their actions.

and after being put into therapy and recovery for their addiction - that’s when they find out that their father’s a presidential candidate, that they had been - that they used cain’s disappearance as a story for the press, one to garner votes. their return is national news, and their public opinion skyrockets. it’s supposed to be glorious, and a miracle, a blessing - but cain feels restrained. confined to the role they’d always been expected to play - expected to get up and continue with their life, as if nothing had happened.

but nothing didn’t happen - everything happened, and cain’s different now, vastly so - no longer who they thought they were. they change their major to literature, abandon politics. they get some cats, start working at the library, and they put on some leather gloves - their method of staying away, of keeping a comfortable distance. they are different, now, and simply only wish to focus on their recovery.

personality.

they’re no longer who they once were. a year of trauma does things to a person - and with memory loss that weighs heavy on their mind, they are near completely different. they remember parts of their old personality, their old lifestyle - enough to know they want to be better. they’re convinced that it’s karma, what happened to them. for being who they were - acting the way they did. just ... a bunch of self-blame.

even with the massive ego, cain’s always been a quiet person. but now - now cain’s even quieter. kinder, if not a little sarcastic, like a relic from the past. they’re distant - but it’s one of fear, restrictive and tense - not one made out of their own comfort.

smokes medical marijuana but rarely drinks ... as if that’d make a difference. in an effort to beat their heroin addiction, they’ve turned to prescriptions instead.

like i mentioned ... cain has four cats. it’s basically their entire personality. two of them were from before their disappearance, but two are new to their little (school-approved) family. there is: frank (big chungus when yelled. white and gray), brock (orange. fluffy. stoic. devours food), shoelace (black furred, missing an eye and half an ear), and crunchwrap supreme (crunch for short. calico with bent ears). yes, they have photos of their cats in their wallet.

cain’s memory is fucked - like, really fucked. they forget a lot of things. short term, long term. it’s a constant struggle. they managed to keep their notes from the cult, so those help - but not always. they forget dates and names and faces and events. sometimes they wake up and don’t know where they are. they don’t sleep often, anyways. with the trauma came night terrors, and in an attempt to avoid them they don’t ... sleep often. only a few hours a night if they can withstand it, because it’s frankly terrible.

they suffer from severe touch aversion. skin contact with anybody, of any sort, is enough to send cain into a full-blown panic attack. they were leather gloves more often than not in an attempt to combat this disadvantage, without hindering their dexterity too much. even with clothes, they’re not the biggest fan of physical contact. it won’t send him into a panic attack, but they visibly flinch away. they’re very clear from the get-go, if someone is too close to them, that they don’t like physical contact.

dealing with ptsd and attends therapy every week. their therapist recommended that they keep writing their notes, after reviewing them himself, so cain does. they keep an entire journal where they write, and sketch a little, because it helps them cope and de-stress. it means a lot to them, actually.

also dealing with ptsd and attends therapy every week - therapist recommended he kept writing after looking at his notes - so he does, keeps an entire journal where they write and like … sketch a little, because it helps them cope. means more to them than it would seem. but, unfortunately, part of their coping involves getting far too involved in their own mini-investigation of the cult they’d been part of. when the cult was tracked back to where cain’d been brought, they were already gone - and cain wants to know where. wants to know how to find them. wants justice, vengeance. wants nobody else to get hurt from them.

pretty blunt ... won’t go out of their way to announce that hey, they were part of a cult, and that’s why they’re gone and that’s why that’s the way they are now - but they also won’t lie about it, if the topic comes up in conversation. they don’t like delusions, don’t like secrets, nor do they like unnecessary attention.

being at radcliffe makes cain anxious because - well, they’re surrounded by people they’ve been doing wrong by for years now and they can’t even remember which ones. who, what, when, why - distant memories, if they’re even there at all. is constantly trying to figure out how to redeem themselves. they’d leave, if it hadn’t been their parents’ assistance that they stay there. so that someone always has an eye on them.

but like ...they screwed over a lot of people when they left. from plugs / customers to their ex-girlfriend, who they are, undeniably, still in love with (you can’t forget that feeling) - to their friends. like. everybody, pretty much KBJNSDFKSNLD

is often pretty high ... i’d say it’s just the medical weed but. alas :/ take a guess :/

hates cars & swimming & crowds. hates feeling trapped and will avoid it whenever possible. doesn’t want to be seen as unsociable, but it’s difficult.

they ... have a tendency to run away when they’re overwhelmed. likes to climb trees because they’re tall enough to. there’s a tree outside of their window that they climb out to frequently, even though it’s like a ~safety hazard~ or whatever. just really likes to hide out.

used to be in perkins when they last attended radcliffe, but they gave their spot to someone else and that was like - 100% fine w/ cain tbh. lives alone in moris now.

feels the need to redeem themself ... to like, everybody. like, they want to avoid conflict and be a better person, but it’s hard, and they don’t necessarily like confrontation either - and not everybody believes that cain’s changed. it wouldn’t be surprising if people were suspicious of cain, for whatever reason, because they don’t ... really have the best track record anymore.

developed a stutter as one of the results from their trauma. their voice is damaged from screaming and they’re self-conscious about it, but they’re working on it because there’s more important things to worry about. in general, cain looks ... gaunt, too thin, and generally sickly.

repeating senior year ... fr obvious reasons ... and probably won’t graduate anytime soon because they’ve changed their major so late.

can still hold a conversation & they’re not really afraid of socialization. it just takes a toll on them. they’re pretty lowkey, as a person. soft, sorta. quiet but they won’t be an asshole (on purpose). they like people! just. very low energy.

so like ... tldr ... not an asshole anymore ... dealing with a lot of trauma ... trying to be a good person ... yes ...

wanted connections.

locals... people they’ve grown up with their entire life. people they’ve wronged, people who idolized him, envied him, despised him, etc.

enemies... would love for a bunch of these just. a hoard of people who fucking hate cain. because it fits the bill. they could’ve bullied them, or wronged them, whatever. anything works. let’s make it happen.

exes... that they’ve dumped... old hookups, ex-friends, people they got into an argument with or fought before they disappeared last year...

ex girlfriend... that connection wld b rly neat!! i have it up as a wc rn but we can take that down ... will be holding intense american idol - esque auditions. remember that cain ws a fckn classist pig and probably only dated people who were also rich with influential families. (unless u present a very good case to me ... then maybe ... perhaps ...)

family friends... family rivals... people he knows mostly thru their family.

redeemable... people they’re trying to redeem themself to... trying to prove their worth, and that they’re a better person now, etc. etc.

old clients... :) angry clients. that they left in the dust.

perkins... people he knew from perkins ... old pals or maybe enemies idk he was pretty insufferable ... people he used to go to fancy parties with sometimes ...

angery... people so so so so fucking pissed at cain, for whatever reason.

reconciliation... reconnecting... used to be friends and we can be friends again :) and i will be better this time! i’m a slut for slowburns, especially slowburn friendships ... enemies to friends ... now THAT is sexy.

victims... of bullying ... :/ of their bullying specifically.

sof...t... wholesome content ... nothing but soft, understanding friendships ... or developing friendships ... make them feel welcomed again... forgive them...

an..g.st... friends to enemies. enemies to bigger enemies. miscommunication. betrayal. whatever u want.

no hookups!!! ... please only previous encounters. nothing in the present. because it just wldn’t make sense.

unless... eyes emoji. H DSJLFJKS just kidding! i’d accept MAYBE some kind of sexual tension but like ... the sort that hurts, because it just Cannot Happen (i will not let it happen). or maybe a fun, casual sexting thing but like. nothing physical. pleasthe.

fuck politics!... mayhaps, they hate mr. romanov and his politics or smth. he’s probably corrupt in some way, so! go at it!

aggression... i feel like a lot of the conversations between cain n other ppl start out rly ... angry bc theyre Mad. at them.

ok it’s bed time please plot with me.

#radintro #cult tw #heroin tw #drug abuse tw #addiction tw #trauma tw #ptsd tw #anxiety tw #manipulation tw #abuse tw #i think thts all ...

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lumosinlove · 6 years

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Solntse

part ii

Remus sits in Lily and James’ tiny living room and tries to ignore the subtly laid out pillow and blankets set on the corner of the couch. Lily doesn’t let him.

“Your apartment has flees.”

Remus sets his glass down, “That was one bug and it was a beetle.”

Lily twists her hair over one shoulder, unrelenting, “Remus. Please.” She nods towards the pillow, “Just—I’m worried. We’re worried.”

Remus looks away so he doesn’t have to see the way James nods, they way they’re both looking at him like he’s already a lost cause. He wishes for a moment he’d never told them what he does other than serve pizza and take the early shifts at the gas station around the block, but then he’d be all alone in it. And they were his best friends, that was why he had told them. Just in case one day all of James’ fears came true and some guy murdered Remus in a hotel room. Or something.

James sighs, “Mate, we’re not ganging up on you.”

“No, I know.” Remus nods down at his mug of tea, “I know. I just…I don’t want to be that friend you can’t get rid of. Like. That would be awful.”

“Re, you’re never going to become that.” Lily puts a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing, “That’s not how we think about it at all. We just want to know your safe.”

James raises his mug to his mouth, “As safe as you can be…”

“James.” Lily snips, then her face turns soft again for Remus, “Will you stay here?”

“Lils, really, my apartment is fine.” He curls his feet further beneath him, “I’ll finish my tea and go. Don’t worry.”

He thinks back to his two night hotel escapade and shakes his head more firmly at Lily. He already feels enough like a charity case as it is. Even if he did get good money for it. Sirius had pushed an extra eighty dollars into his hand at the door and closed it before Remus could protest. He had pressed a chapped kiss to his cheek too. Remus was still mulling that over.

When he finally does make it out of the apartment he pulls his ratty coat tightly over his shoulders and ducks his head against the wind. He could probably buy a new one if Sirius called again. He did ask for two nights in a row, and it went great so, maybe. But he didn’t want to be flashy about any new money. His landlord had already raised his eyebrows when Remus had handed over two months rent in advanced.

His apartment wasn’t flea infested although it did give off that sort of look. He had a cheep futon bed frame, just to keep his mattress off the floor so it didn’t mold, and a dresser from IKEA. His kitchen consisted of a stove and a sink. The gas was usually pretty iffy and his sink ran mostly cold, like his shower, but…he had a roof and food. It’s fine. He has James and Lily if he was really, really in trouble but he doesn’t want it to come to that. He’ll never want it to come to that.

He throws his keys down on the dresser and goes to check the leak under the sink. It hasn’t gotten worse but he empties out what water is in the bucket just while he’s there. He re-tapes the crack in the window and makes a note to ask his landlord about that. Again. He’s just sitting down on his bed when his phone rings. He groans and closes his eyes when he pulls it out, hoping it isn’t one of his less polite customers. He sighs in relief when he sees the name.

“Frank, hi.” Frank almost never wants sex. He likes to talk. He’s lonely. Remus can relate. He’s the son of two wealth-soaked parents who don’t pay him a lick of attention. Remus can half relate. “How are you, mate?”

“Oh. Hi, Remus. Wasn’t sure I’d get you, um. I’m fine. I—um. Was wondering…” He trails off.

“Sure, when were you thinking? I’ve got something Tuesday and Sunday and you know when I work, so…”

“Actually, I was thinking now?” His voice is up an entire octave with nerves, “I just…Family problems right now. Was hoping to just talk a bit.”

Remus runs a hand over his face but tries not to pause too long. He doesn’t want Frank to think he doesn’t want to, “Sounds great! Should I meet you at the—“

“I couldn’t get the usual room. It’s 207 tonight. Same hotel though, the Pierre.”

Remus nods, tries to keep a smile in his voice, “Great. See you soon.”

He’s barely hung up when another name flashes up at him. He’s almost embarrassed by how fast he answers, “Sirius. Hi.” That didn’t come out anywhere close to how he wanted it to.

“Remus! Life is good?”

Remus laughs lightly, still caught off guard but warmed by Sirius’ simple honesty, “Uh, yeah, life is good. How are you?”

“Good. Busy. Always busy, you know? I’m at airport now, going to be in town on Wednesday. You want see together? Or, ah, not together.”

“Each other.” Remus supplies.

“Yes, perfect. You always know. What you think, Remus?”

Remus half wishes Sirius would stop saying his name like that and half wishes he’ll never stop saying his name like that, “Yeah, that works for me. What time were you thinking?”

“Seven? I get us dinner in room, so don’t eat. I’m, ah…” Sirius lets out a soft laugh and Remus presses the speaker closer to his ear, “I’m think about you a lot.”

Remus swallows over a suddenly dry throat, “Yeah?”

“Hm.” There’s a loud speaker in the background and Sirius says something low in Russian, “Flight calling me. Wednesday okay, yes?”

“Yes. Have a good flight.”

“You too. Or—“ They both laugh, “Okay, I’m go now. Bye, Remus.”

The line goes dead and Remus lets the phone fall to the bed. He breathes in deeply and looks down. He’s half hard in his pants now and he really doesn’t know why. He’s suppose to be on his way to Frank’s, he tips well, he honestly needs Remus a little bit and…fuck. He splashes some freezing water on his face from the sink and yanks his door shut as he leaves.

Frank’s is fine. The hotel room is nice and Remus ends up sucking him off—twice. He doesn’t get hard either time but Frank seems either completely fine with that or he doesn’t notice. What does get him going is the ping he gets on his phone while he’s walking home from the tube. It’s a picture. Of Sirius. A selfie. He’s grinning in front of a beautiful sunset outside a plane window. There’s no message except a few sideways parentheses that Remus takes as smiles. Looking at the grin triggers thinking about Sirius’ large, warm hands on his hips and back. That leads to thinking about the way Sirius had carefully pushed his fingers inside of Remus, then the hot slide of his cock to replace them, his weight covering Remus’ back—

By the time Remus is walking up the stairs to his apartment again he’s more or less waddling around his tented trousers. By the time he’s throwing his keys on his dresser all he can do is lean back against his door and shove his hand into his boxers. They’re already damp with pre-come so what’s the point anyway? He smears his thumb over his head and squeezes the base, letting out a breath. It’s not as good as Sirius and his fucking huge palms. Now that he’s got a hand wrapped around himself he can really feel the difference. He pushes his pants down around his knees so he can get two hands around himself instead, twisting around the head and keeping a tight grip around the shaft. It barely takes a dozen pulls before he’s shooting into his fist with a harsh sound, Sirius’ name almost on his lips. Almost. He makes the mistake of thinking about the way Sirius had trailed his fingertips over his sensitive cock after he’d made Remus come in his mouth, keeping the pleasurable nerves alight, and takes a cold shower so he doesn’t have to go again. The shower only makes him think about how, next time, maybe Sirius won’t come untouched. Maybe Remus will get to return the favor. He doesn’t even know how much of Sirius he could fit in his mouth but fuck if he doesn’t want to try. He groans and wraps a hand around himself again. He’s too sensitive but he doesn’t care. He works himself fast and hard until his cock is a flushed red and he comes weakly against the shower wall, panting into the cool spray.

He looks at his phone as he towels off his hair. It’s Saturday, and it’s going to be a long couple days.

There’s a different woman at the front desk this time and Remus is glad. Not that he thinks the other one would remember him but, still. He stares at the twelve on the door for a moment, trying to calm his heart rate, before he knocks.

The door doesn’t open immediately so he knocks again, feeling more awkward by the second.

This time there’s a muffled shout and a few seconds later the door is yanked open by Sirius—dripping wet and a towel hastily wrapped around his waist.

“Sorry!” He gasps, “Sorry, flight late, felt kind of like plane—plane all over me? Thought I be fast, sorry.”

“Okay.” Remus meant to say it’s okay but, well, Sirius’ towel is slipping sort of low.

“Come in, come in, I’m be ready in minute.”

Ready for what? Remus wants to ask.

He goes to sit on one of the couches and strokes his hands over a soft pillows while Sirius pads back to the shower, dropping his towel without closing the door. For a second, Remus debates on whether he can consider that as an invitation or not. He stands up twice and sits back down before the water shuts off and he sits again. Sirius emerges a second later, grabbing the towel from the floor to wrap around his waist and another for his hair. He rubs at his hair until the waves fluff around his ears and into his eyes. He smiles over at Remus somewhat guiltily.

“Sorry again. You want look at menu?” Sirius flips open a sleek looking suitcase and starts rifling through it, “Starving. Airplane food most bad, you know?”

Remus doesn’t but he’s not about to start that conversation. Instead he reaches for the leather-bound hotel book, “Where did you come from?”

“Sydney, ah…Hard for me to say.”

“Australia.”

Sirius laughs and pulls a loose fitting pair of sweatpants on—bare, “Yes, right.” A white long sleeve shirt follows and—to Remus’ surprised delight—a black snapback. It sits snugly on his damp hair, pushing the front part back out of his eyes while the rest wings out above his ears. Remus can see the shape of his ring necklace through his shirt. He swallows. Sirius looks good.

He pulls some warm looking socks on and Remus glances briefly at the hole in the heel on his own left foot. The couch bounces a little as Sirius settles next to him, leaning in close to look at the menu, “Good food? What you like?”

Remus tries to read the menu, he really does, but Sirius’ arm is thrown over the back of the couch and his fingertips are brushing over where he sweater gives way to skin. He holds the menu out to Sirius, “You decide. I’ll eat anything.”

Sirius gives him a teasingly disapproving look but takes the menu and reaches towards the side table for the phone. He orders too much. A steak, fries, a plate of brisket ravioli, a cheese board, a salad, calamari, and two slices of chocolate cake. Remus doesn’t know where they’re going to put it all, but he hopes maybe he can take some of it home.

“We do tea later,” Sirius reaches out and fans one of Remus’ curls between his fingers. “After.” He amends, “They say thirty minutes.” Then his fingers are lightly brushing Remus’ hip, just beneath his sweater, “We stay busy while wait. Is okay?”

“Yeah.” Remus breathes, because what Sirius doesn’t know is that he got off to the mere memories of what they did last time every night leading up to now. Sometimes twice. Of course it’s okay. He’s never had a job this fucking okay, and he’ll damn sure make the most of it until Sirius moves on. They always do. Remus usually feels more grateful when they do, but he has a feeling Sirius will be different.

Sirius flashes him a grin and tugs him right into his lap. His lips are warm and chapped against Remus’, but the rough texture is nice. Remus feels like it keeps him there, in Sirius’ arms. He runs his tongue across Sirius’ bottom lip just to feel it and is rewarded with a soft sound and a palm to the small of his back. Sirius, who seems to be able to take Remus aback in almost everything he does, is holding Remus close, chest to chest. Not by the hips, not by the shoulders. Remus has never had any problems with abuse and he’s lucky in that way but Sirius, Sirius isn’t holding him like he’s there for sex at all. He’s cradling Remus in his lap, hands running lazily up and down his back. He’s licking into his mouth like they have all the time in the world, like they’ve been kissing forever and they’ll do it tomorrow, and tomorrow.

Remus’ palms cup his jaw and he runs his fingers along the edge of the snapback.

“You want off?” Sirius’ voice sounds like he’s just woken up.

Remus shakes his head and his eyes slip closed as Sirius’ mouth moves to his jaw, “No.”

Sirius’ warm breath against his neck as he laughs softly almost feels better than the wet kisses he’s leaving there. Almost.

They stay like that until the knock on the door makes Remus blink his eyes open blearily, suddenly aware of how warm he is.

Sirius shifts him to the side gently, kneeling on the couch for one last peck, “I’m get food, relax here.”

Remus blinks at him, licks his kiss-swollen lips, and honestly just wants to ask Sirius why he is like this. He rests his head back on the couch and listens to Sirius’ bright voice chatting away to the bell boy who brought their food. He’s thanking him, telling him how good it all looks, and Remus thinks maybe he’s just this nice to everyone he meets. He isn’t sure what to do with that.

“Hey,” Sirius head pokes back through the door, cart trailing him, “Food.”

Remus isn’t going to say no to that.

The spread of food looks even bigger when laid out and Remus can’t help but laugh as Sirus sits down next to him again, “Sirius, this is…a lot.”

Sirius shrugs one shoulder, “We don’t finish, you take home.”

Remus isn’t going to say no to that, either. He has a brief moment of wondering whether ordering this much was purposeful on Sirius’ part, but pushes it aside. That’s ridiculous. Sirius doesn’t even know him, much less anything about his financial situation. Well. He might know a little given who they are to each other.

Remus spends most of the meal listening to Sirius try to explain some funny story that happened on his trip, and anticipating the occasional moments of being fed bits of steak and such by Sirius, who barely breaks in talking despite how it takes Remus’ breath for a moment.

“I spend lot of time in hotel, you know?” Sirius’ voice breaks into Remus’ thoughts, mid story. He wished he’d been listening fully to know how to respond.

“I, ah, lonely?”

Sirius shrugs, but shoves a large scoop of pasta in his mouth. Remus takes that as a yes.

“How did you…” Remus searches for the right word before trying, “find me?”

Sirius actually pinks a little at that, “Ah. Friend. You know him. Recommend. Say you very sweet.”

Remus nods and respects the anonymity even if he’s dying to know who, “Sweet, huh?”

Sirius smiles a little, “I’m think so, too.”

They move onto the cake and the hotel had sent up an two extra desserts, seemingly just because Sirius is Sirius.

“I’m stay here lot, they know me.”

“Probably because you order the entire menu anyway.” Remus jokes.

It makes Sirius’ entire face light up, spreading his hands, “Hey, why not? Hungry after long day of flying.” He knocks his ankle against Remus’, “Good food, best company.”

Remus rolls his eyes a little and Sirius snorts. That shouldn’t be attractive, but it is.

“You live here always?” Sirius asks through a bite of cheesecake, “London?”

“Yeah, always.”

“Born here?”

Remus nods, “Yeah. I live a few streets over from my parent’s flat.”

“Must be so nice.” Sirius is smiling, but his eyes are down at his plate and he looks a little mournful. His fingertips not holding his fork are twisting the ring around his neck, “Be near family always.”

Remus takes a bite instead of answering. It had been nice. For a while.

“Not…Not nice?” Sirius says softly, “Sorry, not want to bring up bad things, Remus—“

“No. No, it’s okay. It’s fine, I just…yeah, I don’t really talk to my parents much these days.”

Sirius places a warm hand on his thigh, thumb rubbing on the inside slowly. But it isn’t sexual. It isn’t even verging on sexual. It’s soothing and warm, and it makes Remus want to keep talking.

“Not since I came out.” He finally manages, “To them. They weren’t…” But it turns out that’s all he can say on the matter.

“Make you feel better…” Sirius wets his lips, “Parents not know. Mine, I’m saying. Scared to tell, not good thing in Russia.” He gives Remus’ thigh a little squeeze, “I understand. Remus, it’s—it’s most brave.”

Remus blinks hard, “Yeah.” He doesn’t know why he’s sitting here having this semi-melt down with Sirius. Sirius definitely isn’t paying for this. He’s probably annoyed with him under all his kind words and so Remus snuffles and digs his palms into his eyes, trying to wipe the tears away and the redness that’s probably there both. There’s nothing really to do to make this not an awkward transition. How do you go from tears to sex? And with a stranger? “I’m sorry.” He begins, “Fuck, this—was not what I had planned.”

“Remus, it’s not apology—no, okay?” He’s suddenly pushing the food table away and tucking his legs beneath himself, sitting on his socked-heels and taking both of Remus’ hands, thumbs rubbing gently against the vulnerable insides of Remus’ wrists, “I’m not mind, really. Really.”

“I’ll take this out of your pay. Honestly, Sirius, this isn’t what you brought me here for, I just want you to know that I know that.” Remus can’t help it though, and despite his words curls his fingers around Sirius’, “Sorry."

“Please stop saying, Remus.” Sirius tone is firm, “Please, you—not an apology.” Even the word ‘apology’ sounds nice in Sirius’ mouth.

“I…make okay? A bit?” Sirius tugs very lightly on Remus’ hands but when Remus shakes his head he—he lets go. Which Remus can’t decide how he feels about that.

“Sorry.” He says again, then at Sirius’ face, he pushes a hand through his hair, “Fuck, sorry—Sor—“

And then Sirius is kissing him. His thumbs are stroking slowly along his cheeks and he’s sucking Remus’ bottom lip slowly into his mouth, brushing his tongue along it with the same amount of leisure. Remus sighs into it, fingers digging into his own thighs for a moment before he’s leaning forward and pressing his palms flat on Sirius’.

“Only if want.” Sirius says against his mouth, “Remus.” He pulls away just enough to look at Remus’ glassy eyes, “You not want a second ago, I’m just want no more sorry. No, ah, not need to do anything, okay?” He curls his fingers back around Remus’ ears, around the curls there, “карамель, can just put movie on. Have more cake.”

Remus sniffles a little, blinking hard at Sirius, “Did—Did you just call me caramel?” He remembers the soft word from last time.

Sirius smiles, a bit, and lifts one shoulder, “It’s good, no? It’s…not sure how to say…small names important in Russia. Mean two people are close.”

Is that really what we are? Remus wants to ask. He sort of wants to yell it because, as great as this is, he sees nothing but a darker end. For himself, anyway.

“Oh.” Is all he says out loud and falls sideways a little on the couch into the cushions. He’s suddenly so tired. Sirius doesn’t seem to mind, though, and mirrors his position, their knees knocking together. His soft smile is still aimed right at Remus. “What’s yours then?”

Sirius’ smile grows, “Mama give to me when little.” He raises his eyebrows, “Little bit funny, not laugh.”

Remus feels a smile of his own start up and he uses his sleeve to wipe his nose, sitting up a little more, “I won’t laugh.”

“Sivushka.” It rolls nicely off of Sirius’ tongue, and his cheeks pink a little but he looks pleased, “Sort of…for family? Friends. Not so much lover, too…small?”

“Casual?” Remus offers, “Like, it means a different feeling.”

Sirius’ smile is soft, “So good with english. So helpful.”

“Sivushka.” Remus tries it out, but it doesn’t sound half as good. Then, he can’t help it, heart in his throat when he asks, “What’s…what’s more than friends? Like, not—just, I’m curious what that would be.”

“Lover? Sirusya, maybe.” Then he smiles, eyes crinkling warmly, “You like? You call me?”

“Surely someone already calls you that.” Remus tries to keep his voice light. I mean, look at you. He wants to add.

Sirius sits up at that a little, eyes going hard, hand—that had been rubbing idly against Remus’ knee—going still, “No. No one call me.”

Remus swallows, “I—I didn’t mean—“

“I’m not—изменя́ть.” He huffs in frustration, “изменя́ть—I’m not know, not know, okay?”

Remus’s chest goes cold, “Okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

“Not be here if with—someone else.” Sirius shakes his head, “Not like that, Remus. I’m not.” The phrase is followed by a disgruntled spell of Russian that Remus does his best to follow through tone alone.

“I know.” Remus finally says, “I know you aren’t.” Because he’s only met Sirius twice but he can honestly say he does know this about him, “I’m sorry.”

“Not apology, карамель.” Sirius rubs his hands over his face, “Too much action, sorry.”

Remus looks on in confusion, “What?”

“Me, me,” Sirius gestures aggressively towards himself, “Me. Too much action. Not right.”

Overreaction, Remus thinks and nods, “No, I understand.”

“I’m know…what guys you probably see doing…this.” Sirius doesn’t look at him as he acknowledges exactly why Remus is there for what feels like the first time other than money exchanges, “Not wrong for you to think. But no.”

“Sirius, it’s okay.” But that feels wrong somehow and so he says instead, “I mean, we’ve done this three times.”

Sirius is quiet for a long moment this time. “It’s true.” Then, after running his fingers over his necklace a few times, “You have other small name?”

The topic change pings a little, “Um. Not anything big. Re, mostly, if anything.”

“Re.” It sounds like a lovely mess of vowel in Sirius’ mouth, “That’s all?”

Remus nods, “Nothing like Russia, huh?”

Sirius runs a hand over his face one more time but when he moves it there’s a trace of his usual smile, “I’m find you one, not worry.” Then, eyes down and voice quiet but questioning, “You have…small name…for lover?”

Remus swallows. His throat is so dry all of a sudden so he just shakes his head, then realizes Sirius isn’t looking at him so he croaks out, “No.”

Sirius nods back, “Oh.” Then he grabs the remote and pushes it into Remus’ hand, “Find something. I’m call for tea and get money before forget. Be back.”

It seems like the end of the conversation, but the conversation doesn’t feel over. Remus choses a movie, but he couldn’t say what it was about. When its over Sirius has to tuck the money into Remus’ back pocket himself. He presses another kiss to Remus’ cheek. Then Remus doesn’t hear from him for two weeks.

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rosepetalmark · 6 years

Text

Not in the Stars

2.5k words

Renjun x Reader

warnings: alcohol mention

in which you plan to confess your love for your best friend to him at a party, but the universe has other plans in store for the both of you.

You like Renjun. A lot.

That was one sentence in your five years of friendship with Huang Renjun that you never thought you’d say to yourself, let alone admit to.

You don’t know where these feelings came from, but all you know is that they’re strong and on your mind twenty four seven. Everything he says and does captivates your mind, causing your feelings for him to grow even stronger.

It’s as if these feelings for him suddenly hit you like a brick one day. You were strictly best friends last week, and now you have these unexplainable deep feelings for him, eating you alive and begging for you to confess to him.

It’s not that you’re opposed to dating Renjun, it’s just that he’s been your best friend for several years and he means so incredibly much to you. You just don’t want to risk losing him or making things between you two weird if he doesn’t feel the same.

So you suppress your feelings. As long as you have Renjun as your best friend, that’s all that matters, right?

Jaemin always makes you second guess yourself, explaining that the dynamic duo that you and Renjun are would be ten times more incredible if you were dating. Since you’re already best friends and know everything about each other, why not date? Only bigger and better things can come from it he always says.

Although Jaemin makes strong points, you’re still scared Renjun will turn you away, mainly because you’re ninety nine percent certain that he only views you as a friend, nothing more and nothing less.

Yeah you have sleepovers and spend hours late at night talking on the phone with one another, but that’s what best friends do. If Huang Renjun has any feelings for you, you’re sure someone would have said something by now.

You get the typical stares from old people when you make your daily trek to school in the morning, him waiting outside your house for you at exactly seven forty two, smiling so bright the second you walk out your front door.

You constantly get mistaken as his girlfriend whenever you go out together on the weekend, which always causes a deep pink blush to appear on Renjun’s cheeks. He’s always quick to brush it off though, making it clear to everyone around you that you’re strictly best friends, and that neither of you view each other in that way.

Boy is he wrong.

Everything about Renjun makes your heart flutter, and that’s something that scares you.

For starters, he excels so well in school. For someone who spends eighty percent of his time doodling instead of taking notes, he aces every test and can recite every piece of information that’s been discussed in class with no problem.

He’s caring and funny, and so unapologetically himself. He takes you to art museums on your spare time, talks about the latest conspiracy that’s on his mind, and always insists you go for milkshakes every Sunday night.

And boy was he cute. The way he tilts his head all the way back and crinkles his eyes when he laughs makes your heart absolutely melt.

Huang Renjun makes you happy and positive and there’s nothing more in this world that you want than to hold his hand and kiss him in public, as well as call him your boyfriend so bad.

It wasn’t until you were out late with him, hanging out on the roof at Jeno’s house, trying to escape the loudness that was coming from inside. Jeno was throwing a kickback to celebrate the beginning of summer, something he does ever year, in which there’s always too many people inside, and you and Renjun find yourself on the roof trying to seek solace in the stars.

Renjun looked so ethereal in the moonlight. There was nothing more that you wanted to do than press your lips ever so gently against his, and hold his hand while staring up at the stars displayed so brightly above you both in the dark sky.

“What are you thinking about bubs?” Renjun asked, referring to the nickname he gave you when he found out that’s the name you gave your favourite stuffed rabbit when you were a child.

God the way his voice sounded in this moment made you weak. The tipsiness you both experienced earlier was wearing off, causing your lack of hydration to become present through your raspy voices.

But you don’t care. You’re with Renjun, and you are warm and comfortable and in love.

In love.

You’re in love with Huang Renjun and you can’t keep it in any longer.

Maybe this would be the best time to tell him. Every time you’re completely sober, you push the idea to the side, trying your best to forget your feelings for him even exist. What if Jun doesn’t feel the same? What if he does but months down the line you figure out you’re better off as friends, and then when you try to get back into your non-romantic routine, everything feels off? You always worry that things will go wrong and Renjun will eventually stop being your friend.

Not tonight though. Renjun looks gorgeous in the moonlight and the little bit of alcohol that remains in your system is acting as your source of encouragement, convincing you to confess to him right now and hope for the best outcome possible.

“Love,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Love?” he questions, staring back to you, seemingly surprised with your response.

“Yeah. Just wondering what the universe has in store for me, you know?” you ask, turning your body to face his direction, criss crossing your legs over one another. “The idea of love both intrigues me and freaks me out. It’s exciting anticipating what will come from it, but the fear of something going wrong down the line makes me not want to pursue it, you know?” you say, staring innocently into his eyes.

He cocks his head, an intrigued look falling on his face. He purses his lips, looking as if he’s going to say something, but remains silent.

You both remain in silence for the next several minutes, which causes your thoughts to wander. What if Renjun has caught on? Maybe he’s thinking of ways to turn you down gently. Or he’s trying to express that he somehow knows you’re talking about him, and he’s trying to do so in a similar manner.

But the silence is killing you, and you want nothing more than for Renjun to say something. Anything to get your thoughts to shut up, and your heart race to stop rapidly beating.

“I think you shouldn’t be scared of love,” he finally says.

Taking a deep breath, he looks off into the sky, admiring the many stars laying millions of miles away from you both. “I get that you never know what may come out of it, but I think it’s worth a shot to know you tried, and to experience something you’re not fully sure is going to work,” he speaks softly.

“Take a look at the universe for example. It’s so big and undiscovered, yet millions of people are fascinated by it. We’re obsessed with the stars and galaxies and the possibility of aliens- which I know for a fact exist by the way, yet we’re not afraid to spend our time discovering them and giving them our attention. I think of love in a similar manner. Yeah the thought seems so broad and scary, as there’s so many things to experience and discover, but I think it’s worth it. You’re only going to learn new things about yourself and life, so why not give it a shot?”

He clears his throat, and pays his attention back to you. He has a look of determination in his eyes, and that only makes you grow even more anxious.

“Aren’t you a wise expert on love, Mr. Huang,” you chuckle.

“Well what can I say? I do a lot of thinking on my spare time when I’m not bickering with you,” he laughs, positioning himself on his arms so he can get a better view of the night sky.

“Hey!” you shout, pushing onto his arm, causing him to lose his newly comfortable position and to fall on his back. “What are you thinking about Ren? You have this sour look on your face.”

“Well your idea of love got me thinking,” he says softly, staring into your eyes.

Nervousness takes over your body. You have no idea what he’s going to say, and every second of silence is eating you up.

“And?” you say abruptly, eager to know what he’s about to say.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I don’t know, I never thought much of it because I’m a wimp, but I think I’m going to ask Yeri out” he confesses, a small smile forming on his face.

The mention of Yeri makes your heart sink. Yeri. He wants to ask out Yeri. Not you.

Of course he likes Yeri. What isn’t there to like about her? She’s really pretty and polite, and they’re both the editors of the school newspaper, so they spend a great amount of time with each other.

God this hurt.

“Oh really,” you respond, with a less enthusiastic tone replacing your prior happy one.

“Yeah. We’ve been getting to know each other a lot more ever since we got asked to do this editorial on the basketball team, and I think I may have feelings for her”

“Well, um I think you should go for it Renjun, “ you reply, looking off into the stars to help keep what’s happening off your mind. If you look into his eyes, you’re certain you’ll start crying.

If it’s not you, you’re glad he has an interest in a girl with a golden heart and personality.

“You think? What if she doesn’t like me?” he asks nervously, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

“Like you said Ren, you never know what will come from love. Why not give it a shot if it’ll lead to potentially greater things not only within yourselves, but life in general? And if she ends up only seeing you as a friend, it’s okay. You’ll find someone one day who loves every part of you.”

And you can’t help but know deep down that that person is you. If Yeri rejects him, you’ll be right here to help him pick up the pieces, if not, you’ll still be here. As his best friend. Renjun deserves all the love and happiness the universe has to offer him, and despite being sad he shows no romantic interest in you, you’re glad he finds it in an amazing girl.

“Alright cool, I guess I’ll ask her out on Monday when we meet up to discuss the paper then.” he says, smiling to himself.

He looks so happy. Ecstatic even. You haven’t seen him smile this big since he won first place in your school’s art show.

“She’s here you know, at the party,” you say to him. “You should do it now.”

“You think?” he asks, eyes wide.

Renjun was never one to act on impulse. He’s a man with a plan, and always has to do things by the book or else he’ll lose his hair. He likes structure and time, a complete flip from your bold and impulsive self.

“Yeah, why not? You’re both here, you look really cute right now, and the stars are out in your favour, shining bright to provide you with the courage to do so.”

This makes Renjun smile. You’ve always been a help in boosting his confidence, and you’re glad to be of assistance in such a nerve-wracking yet exciting period in his life.

Standing up, he dusts the possible dirt off his legs. He crouches over, looking into your eyes and grabs your hand. “You’re the best y/n. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“As I with you,” you reply, a soft grin forming from your lips. “Now go downstairs and ask her out before she leaves.”

Standing back up, he begins walking to the door. “I’ll let you know how it goes!” he half shouts, pressing his hand to the door handle, and making his way back into the house.

You’re now left alone, on the rooftop, with just the stars and your thoughts.

Why didn’t you bring up your feelings to him sooner, you thought. Now you’re only left sad and alone, because you were too scared to tell your best friend you’re in love with him. Confessing to him seemed so perfect in your mind a couple minutes ago, but sadly the universe has other plans in store for you.

You decide to get comfortable and lie down, and begin to look at the constellations that are possibly present within the night sky. You can still hear the loud, most likely drunk people just a floor below you, and the vibration of the music hitting your body despite being away from the noise. But you don’t care. It’s just you and the sky, and you’re doing everything in your power to forget about the party below you, and to focus on the stars.

As you point out the orion in the sky, you feel a buzz in your back pocket, indicating that you’ve got a text. Reaching for it, you unlock your phone, and see a notification stating that Renjun messaged you. Pressing on the messages app, you click on his name and read the following:

jun bug: she said yes!! we’re going out on tueday after we’re done editing :) (2:17 AM)

“Yes.” Yeri said yes.

You’re happy for your best friend, but for yourself, you’re heartbroken. The possibility of dating him is now slim to none, especially since a potential girlfriend is in the mix, only making you more sad for yourself.

You make sure to reply quick, and in a way that’ll make him happy, and hopefully provide you with the positivity that everything will be okay.

y/n: i’m so happy for you ren <3 (2:18 AM)

As you press send, you feel the tears start to slide down your cheeks. You’re happy for him, you really are, but you can’t help but wish that things went differently, and that you were in Yeri’s position.

But as Renjun said before, love can be scary. It’s a learning experience, and if it doesn’t work out, you just need to take what you can from it, and hope for the best in the future.

So you’ll take his words, and you’ll try your best to move on.

It’ll be tough, but you hope to god that one day he’ll just be your best friend, and that this heartbreak won’t last with you forever.

#i wrote the majority of this in one shot and i'm pretty proud #this piece is one of my favs b/c it's really relatable and I just love how i depicted Renjun in this #hope you all enjoy #huang renjun #renjun scenarios #nct scenarios #nct dream scenario #nct angst #huang renjun scenario #nct fluff

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glorious-blackout · 5 years

Text

Summary of Junior Doctor Life: Part Seven(ish):

I’m one week into my Surgical Block and despite being warned countless times that I’ll be run off my feet, I’ve spent about 40% of my time on coffee-breaks. Granted, I’m only scheduled for normal days for the first couple of weeks and some of the shifts look hellish, but so far the main stress-inducing factor is having to come into work at eight in the morning.

That’s not to say the work makes a lot of sense. Surgery as a junior doctor is more of a secretarial job; we spend our mornings trying to track down consultants for ward rounds (and writing their notes for them), and waste most of our afternoons writing out blood forms and printing out blood/scan results (because looking them up on a laptop during the morning rounds would be considered a waste of time apparently). Just think - we did five years of medical school for this :P

One morning, two of my patients decided to have episodes of vasovagal syncope (which is a fancy way of saying ‘they fainted’) within an hour of each other. One patient was so dramatic that the emergency buzzer was pulled and a nurse was halfway through a cardiac arrest call before he groggily woke up.

Turns out he wasn’t dying, his blood pressure had just decided to drop into his boots. Which is great, because it turns out I’m not mentally equipped to deal with a cardiac arrest at 8am.

Unlike in Medicine, we’re attached to specific consultants rather than wards so the responsibility for certain patients is split between the juniors. This works pretty well if your tasks are specific to that patient’s care, but it *can* get a bit silly. Case in point: I was once asked by a nurse if I was looking after a certain consultant’s patient, and when I said no she decided to page the appropriate FY1. Turns out all she needed was a prescription for IV fluids - something I could easily have done in two minutes considering I was actually on the ward (unlike my poor colleague who was run off their feet elsewhere).

Our doctors’ room has a mattress in it, which carries the implication that it’s actually possible to sleep on a surgical night-shift. After experiencing nights on a medical block, this notion is entirely foreign to me.

I’ve started taking my pager home. Seeing as I live fairly close to the hospital, this has resulted in two rather depressing occasions where I’ve been paged while off-duty. Not sure what the surgical wards wanted with me in the middle of the night on a Sunday, but I wasn’t curious enough to call and find out.

Lost a battle with a faulty syringe the other day, to the point where its contents exploded and went everywhere. Which would have been fine if it hadn’t been full of blood. It took about fifteen minutes to scrub the workstation clean until it no longer looked like I’d violently murdered someone.

Miraculously, there was still enough left in the syringe to put in a blood bottle and send to the lab. Which is good, seeing as I wasn’t exactly keen to explain to the patient that I had to stab them again because I’m an idiot who spilled their blood everywhere.

Managed to catch up with the FY1 who took over my Gastro job (coincidentally she shares my first name - it must be like I never left). She’s doing okay and settling in well, though she was forced to admit that the ward has a habit of becoming hectic with absolutely zero warning. Which is strangely validating, considering I’ve spent the last four months wondering if I was the only one who felt that way.

Arrived to work one morning to find out that a lovely man whose care I’d been heavily involved in died on the operating table the day prior. There was nothing I could have done differently (he died of a complication from a previous surgery and we’d done everything we could to manage him conservatively before a return to theatre became inevitable), but there’s a traitorous part of my brain that can’t help but wonder if I could have done more, what it was I missed, whether *I* did something to harm him... I’m learning not to dwell on such possibilities, especially in cases like this. That way madness lies.

On a considerably lighter note, despite repeated warnings about how fundamentally hectic surgery is, today was chilled out enough that this was our lunch:

#junior doctor shenanigans #medicine #carrying four large pizzas to the 4th floor of a hospital did invite some questioning glances but ah well #worth it #i still prefer medicine - for all that it could be a chaotic mess I felt that I learned more on my last ward #but so far surgery isn't as awful as I'd feared #rambling

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insane-control-room · 6 years

Text

Back

It has been a bit of time since there were three of them.

wanted to write something nice bc ive been feeling :| lately.

ft and for @halfusek‘s magenta and @jovialdrew‘s joy <3

Joey snuggled closer to the other being in bed. Joey’s arm was over his bare shoulders, moving ever so slightly with the rise and fall of his chest. Joy smiled lightly at the other man, Magenta blearily blinking in recognition of him, turning to bury his face in the pillow. Joy smirked, kissing his cheek, eliciting a peep.

“It’s too early to get up,” he softly protested when Magenta attempted to leave the bed, tightening his arm around him. “And it’s a sunday! Just… stay here. You and me.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, in truth grateful for the reason to stay in bed any longer. “Coffee and breakfast? Later?”

“Later,” Joy confirmed, smiling and pulling the thinner man closer. “Mmm… but do you smell that? Smells delicious. Are those blueberries I smell in the air?”

“I think so…” Magenta yawned. “Neighbor’s making pancakes, I suppose.”

“Alright,” Joy sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing. “Might do that later. Maybe. Probably not.”

Whistling lulled him softly into a dreamlike haze. He assumed it was Magenta’s, taking his hand. Little did the little frenchman know, the same whistling relaxed the other man, he suspecting it to be his. The door quietly, silently, swung open, soft footsteps hardly audible as cautious feet approached the bed, sliding something onto the side table with only one set of glasses. Joy felt stray strands being brushed back, Magenta feeling a soft caress on his cheek. A kiss was gently placed on his forehead, and a second on Joy’s temple.

“Morning, mis amores,” came the whisper. Joy’s eyes snapped open as he jolted up to view the newcomer, an incredulous happiness filling his face. Johan chuckled at his expression, leaning carefully over Magenta to kiss Joy’s forehead. “Hello, mi alegria.”

“You’re back!” he exclaimed in a quiet tone, beaming. He quickly cupped Johan’s face and kissed him, knowing from experience that if he failed to surprise him, Johan would stop the kiss before it happened. Johan let out a squeak of surprise before melting against his lips. Joy pulled away after a moment, Johan gazing at him with a delectable love and admiration, making Joy smile at him, leaning close again, Johan tilting to him in love. Then Joy slapped him (gently). “That’s for vanishing! Where the hell have you been?”

“Um…” Johan blushed, looking away, rubbing his cheek. “I plead the fifth.”

“No, no, this time I agree with Joy,” Magenta pushed himself up on the bed and softly took Johan’s hand in his own. “You just disappeared, no note, no warning. Poof.”

“I’m sorry,” Johan apologized, looking at all six of their hands, all intertwined. Flecks of code danced from his hands, the numbers happily weaving around the two familiar beings’ hands. Johan continued in a quieter tone than usual. “I’ve been working. On repairs. For my dimension. I’ve missed you both so much, the void is so lonely.”

“Why didn’t you tell us, though?” Joy asked with concern. Johan blushed and looked at the tray of food and coffee he brought. “Johan?”

“I was only going to be gone for five minutes…” he shamefully answered. “And then there were so many errors, so many things that needed to be fixed, and then… it was much longer than I expected. And of course, the fact time does not work in the void.”

“Oh, Johan,” Joy breathed, feeling his heart pang with sympathy. “Come here, you lov-”

“I made breakfast,” Johan quickly aborted, blushing, not prepared for another kiss. “Blueberry pancakes, just the way you like it, Joy. And your favorite type of coffee, Maggie, darling.”

“Thanks,” Magenta muttered, flushing from the nickname. Johan kissed his cheek, making him squirm. Johan laughed lowly, kissing his other cheek. Magenta sipped his coffee, attempting to shield his indignance. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re sleeping with another man, yet you’re blushing from a nickname,” Johan remarked with a playful glint in his eye. “Someone has quite the double standard!”

“You have no standards,” Joy pointed out. A flush instantly filled Johan’s dark face as he muttered an excuse of how ‘all men are extremely hot and it’s not fair’. Magenta chuckled and rolled his eyes. “But that’s quite alright dearie! We, Magenta and I, don’t mind at all, now, do we? Of course not! Otherwise we would never have,” he gestured to the three of them, “this!”

“Started with him and me,” Magenta reminisced, looking over at Johan. “Then Joy jumped in.”

“I remember, I was there,” Johan laughed, laying on his side. “Walking in on him holding you like that, I remember, and my first reaction was ‘wow, another handsome being’!”

“Then you lifted us both up,” Magenta commented. “Which was just… slightly intimidating.”

“You hush,” Johan mumbled, twisting himself to hide against Magenta’s chest. “I just was really excited to see you both.”

Magenta rolled his eyes and ran his hands through Johan’s hair, watching it spring back up. He repeated the action a few times, Joy slumping back on the bed and merely watching.

“How long has it been?” Johan asked quietly, almost unhearable. He sounded tired and upset. “How long have I been gone?”

“A few months,” Joy answered. Magenta felt Johan tense against him, his hand turning into a fist in his nightshirt. “Three and a half.”

“Three and a half months?” Johan hoarsely repeated, trembling. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I only wanted to go for a couple minutes, I’m sor-”

“Shh.” Magenta shushed him, covering his mouth softly. “Enough of that. You’re here now.”

“I’ve missed you, Maggie,” he whispered, his hand reaching out to Joy. “And you, my Joy. I hardly managed to fix anything in my dimension. It looks like everytime I repair one thing, it opens into an entirely new corrupted room or file. I’m so tired….”

“Rest,” Joy told him, squeezing his hand. “We’re here for you.”

“Thank you, mis amores,” he breathed. “Los amo tanto a ambos… I love you….”

“Love you too,” Joy sighed, getting up. Johan blinked blearily at him, rolling off of Magenta to allow the other seven foot man to get up himself. Magenta grumbled something and pushed himself off the bed. Joy slipped on his shirt and out the door of the bedroom. “Be right back.”

Magenta grabbed a sweater, pulling it on as he got out of the bed, pulling on pants. He noticed Johan watching him with a calm expression. He turned to him with a smirk.

“Enjoying the view?” he teased, fixing the material at his hips. Johan’s eyes met his as he grinned lopsidedly. “Well?”

“‘Tis a difficult thing to not bask in the glory of perfection,” he murmured, getting up to take Magenta’s hands in his, kissing the back of each. Magenta flushed deeper than his nickname, turning his face away. Magenta felt his arms wrap around him, swaying with him and humming a familiar tune, the tone becoming softer. “Mi rosa, I never meant to be from you so long.”

He rested his head on Johan’s shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time, until Joy’s voice called them to the kitchen. Johan thanked him as the frenchman gave him a cup of tea, and the coded man settled on his arm chair, swiping a book out of a pocket dimension, trying to relax into home. Joy smiled at him, then turned to Magenta.

“Need anything?” he questioned, gesturing to the kitchen. Magenta smiled and shook his head. “Alright, suit yourself.”

Magenta looked over at the man curled up in the chair, Joy whistling and going back into the kitchen.

Johan seemed so happy just to be in a plane of existence.

His hand lazily went back and forth on the armrest, smiling to himself as he read.

A soft pressure formed on his cheek, tugging him out of his book.

“Wha’?” he intelligently asked, pretending to still be focused on the book, loving the physical contact. He glanced at the man pulling on his face, trying to get him to look at him. Johan smiled, especially with his eyes. “Yes, Maggie?”

The kiss on his cheek stunned him. He swiveled to look up at the now blushing man. He stared at him. Magenta never took initiative.

“Welcome back, Jo,” he whispered before following after Joy into the kitchen. He put his head back into the room, seeing Johan staring at him with wide eyes and a heavy blush. “We did miss you, you know.”

He disappeared into the kitchen.

Johan got up with a laugh, beaming, running in after him, lifting him into his arms, scooping Joy in with him, spinning around with them both and letting out little laughs of happiness and relief.

He pressed kisses all over both of their faces, making both ‘french’men flush brightly.

“Te amo!” Johan giggled between each kiss. Joy laughed and tried to get his own kisses in. Magenta hid his face in his hands, so Johan peppered his neck with them instead. “I missed you, my loves.”

“You’re back now,” Joy reassured him. Johan stared at him, a grin blooming across his lips. “What’re you all smiley about?”

“I am back!” he laughed. “And it feels great!”

#one's company #control writes #control art #joy drew #magenta #johan ramirez #joey drew #batim #bendy and the ink machine #sweet #romantic

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lilyvandersteen · 6 years

Text

Puppy Eyes Chapter 12

Chapter 12: I Must Be Sure

Paula came back in the afternoon, after her Pre-College Academy Class, and wanted to take Blaine home with her.

“You can look after Kurt,” she told Trent, “and I’ll take care of Blaine.”

Blaine shot one look at Kurt, who was tossing and turning in bed, breathing with difficulty, his cheeks unnaturally red and the rest of him pale as death, and nixed that plan with a loud protest.

Trent shushed him and told him to go with Paula, but Blaine, his displeasure rumbling deep in his throat, jumped onto the bed and curled himself around Kurt, trying to warm him up as well as he could.

Trent gasped and tried to get him off the bed, but Blaine didn’t budge. Then Kurt turned around, threw his arm around Blaine, nestled his head against Blaine’s shoulder and started to snore like a freight train.

“Well, that changes things,” Paula said. “If Blaine is staying here, we’re going to have to divide the caretaker duties differently. What’s your work schedule like? I have class on Mondays from 10.30 till 12, on Wednesdays the entire afternoon, on Thursdays from 8.30 till 10, on Fridays from 3.30 till 5, and on Saturdays the entire morning.”

Together, she and Trent worked out a schedule, and then Paula checked the fridge, the pantry and the medicine cabinet and went shopping.

Blaine felt horrible that he wasn’t able to help Kurt in any way, except for keeping him warm. He stuck to Kurt like a barnacle, and every time Trent or Paula wanted to take him out for a walk, he resisted until they’d sworn up and down that they’d bring him straight back to Kurt after.

Kurt’s fever didn’t abate in the following days, and his babbling grew more and more incoherent. Blaine’s name was a constant, though. Kurt was forever calling for Blaine, telling him he needed him, and that he loved him. All Blaine could do in response was cuddle up to him, his front paws wrapped around Kurt protectively. Kurt always seemed to sense him near, and it quieted him and helped him fall asleep.

The doctor came back after three days, and was so worried about Kurt’s worsening condition that she wanted to hospitalise him. Luckily, Trent was able to persuade her to let Kurt stay at home.

“I’m a trained nurse, Doctor,” Trent said. “I’ve worked in an ICU unit for two years. Just tell me what Kurt needs and I’ll take care of it – an IV, a heart monitor, an antibiotic shot for pneumonia?”

The doctor thought it over, and then decided to take Trent up on his offer. “I’ll write you a prescription for the antibiotics. I can’t fault you for wanting to keep him at home. God knows hospitals charge the earth. But I want you to keep me updated. I want his stats twice a day, and if it gets any worse, he’ll go straight to the hospital.”

For the next three days, Kurt was hooked up to an IV, and a heart monitor beeped around the clock to assure everyone he was still alive. Trent administered the pneumonia shots twice a day, and slowly but surely, Kurt’s temperature went down, and he became alert enough to eat and drink again, with assistance.

“He’s past the worst,” Trent said as he took the IV out. “I’m going to take the heart monitor back to the rental place. He’ll be back to normal in a few days. He’ll have to be careful, though. He needs to take it easy for a few more weeks or he’ll relapse. Make sure he rests, okay? As soon as you turn human again, I’m going back to Ashton’s , but I’ll pop in twice a day for the rest of the pneumonia shots.”

Trent was right. The next morning, Kurt woke up lucid, and when the doctor arrived for another check-up, she declared his lungs cleared, but told him to rest for at least one more week.

Blaine asked her to administer the morning pneumonia shot, which Trent had forgotten in his rush to go back to Ashton, and thanked her for the many house calls she’d made to check on Kurt.

Making Kurt rest for a week proved quite a challenge. On Saturday, he was malleable enough, and did nothing more taxing than take a long bath, nap and eat. On Sunday, Kurt was much more his old self, and as Trent, Ashton and Paula were coming over for dinner, Kurt insisted on preparing the food. “I’m the one who invited them! They’ve looked after me all week!”

Blaine raised his eyebrows. “After both of us. You wouldn’t want to repay them by falling ill again, now, would you? Park your cute butt on the sofa and watch some TV.”

“I’ve got no time for that!” Kurt protested. “I missed a week of school. I need to call Neil so he can update me on all that I’ve missed, and the assignments I’m supposed to hand in.”

“I’m sure Paula’s already told all of your teachers that you’re ill, and they’ll grant you an extension,” Blaine reassured him.

“Maybe most of them will, but not Jenkins,” Kurt mumbled under his breath, and a minute later, he was on the phone with Neil. “Oh, great, that’s great, thank you! Aww, yes, I know I did, but hey, that got me a job, didn’t it? Anyway, thanks a lot! But what I really need to know is what assignment we got for ARS Fashion this week, so that I can get cracking. 17th century fashion? Great. I read this interesting book the other day about French aristocrats wearing red high heels. I’ll write about that.”

And sure enough, Kurt settled at the dining room table with his laptop and a big book and set to work. Blaine didn’t hear another peep about making dinner, and at five minutes to seven, he had to tell Kurt to scram so he could set the table for five.

“I’m almost done!” Kurt complained, but Blaine shooed him off.

By the time their dinner guests were sitting down, nibbling on mini pizzas and quiches and sipping a glass of spumante, Kurt still hadn’t arrived. Blaine found him in his bedroom, going over his now fully written assignment and muttering to himself.

“Dinner is served, Milord,” Blaine said, and Kurt jumped a foot in the air.

“Dinner? Okay, I’ll be right there, as soon as I’ve sent…”

But Blaine closed the laptop. “We have guests. That you invited. So come help me entertain them.”

Kurt sighed, but slid off the bed and followed Blaine.

Kurt seemed a bit subdued during dinner. Blaine was pretty sure he was getting tired again, and hurried to offer everyone dessert so that they would leave shortly after.

Before he left, Trent gave Kurt his evening pneumonia shot and then took Blaine aside.

“Quit it with the sleeping in the same bed, okay? I know you don’t mean anything by it, but you’re getting the boy’s hopes up, and it’s cruel. You never did that to me, why would you do that to him?”

Blaine, a bit taken aback, didn’t know how to respond, and Trent rolled his eyes, sighed and reiterated, “Don’t make promises you can’t deliver on. Take it from me, that HURTS. You’re not into Kurt? Fine, but then keep your distance, so that he can get over his crush and fall for someone else, like I did with Ashton. Right now, you have him thinking that it’s somehow his fault. That he’s unlovable or something. I told him it was unlikely you’d ever fall for him, and he said, ‘Who would?’”

Blaine’s mouth fell open, and his heart hurt for Kurt, who was amazing and wonderful and beautiful inside and out, and deserved all the love in the world.

“That’s what you do to him,” Trent said. “So stop it, please.”

Later on, when all the guests were gone, and Blaine was doing the dishes, he mulled it over in his head. Was Trent right? Was it cruel of Blaine to show Kurt affection?

Of one thing, Blaine was sure: this wasn’t the Trent situation all over again. Blaine had never felt for Trent even half of what he felt for Kurt, and he’d never been as close to anyone as he had to Kurt.. Kurt complemented him in ways that Trent never had.

However upset Blaine had felt when Trent moved out, he knew that it would be so much worse if Kurt ever decided to leave him. He’d be absolutely devastated. In just a few months, Kurt had become the most important part of Blaine’s life. And ever since Blaine had overheard the phone conversation between Kurt and his father, he’d been picturing what it would be like to marry Kurt, raise children together and grow old with him. He could see it all so clearly, and he wanted it. But did he want it for the right reason? That was the crux of the matter.

Kurt deserved true love. He deserved someone who chose him because he was the brightest star in their sky and their best part of every day. Because they wanted to wake up with him in the morning and go to sleep at night with him in their arms. Because when he was in the room, everyone else disappeared for them and they only had eyes for him.

Blaine had grown to care for Kurt, more and more every day, but was that a self-fulfilling prophecy, or did he truly love him? He wasn’t sure, and as long as he lacked that certainty, he wouldn’t kiss Kurt. That much he could promise himself.

He hung up the tea towel and went to Kurt’s room to nag him to go to sleep.

Kurt was already in his pyjamas, moisturising his face. He looked up with a glowing smile. “I just sent the essay to Jenkins. At least one thing I can cross off my list.”

“Good,” said Blaine. “But promise me you won’t overdo it. No dog-walking for at least another two weeks, and no late nights working on school stuff. You need to get better first.”

Kurt’s smile fell. “I left them in the lurch for a week, so I doubt the agency’s ever going to want me back anyway.”

“I called them the first day you were ill,” Blaine told him. “So I’m pretty sure they found a replacement for you. I’m sure they’ve had other dog walkers fall ill before.”

And there was that smile again for Blaine to bask in. “Thank you!”

Kurt got into bed, and then beckoned Blaine with his arm. “Come to bed, please. I’m tired.”

Blaine hesitated for a fraction of a second, remembering Trent’s warning, but the tug on his heart was too strong. “I’ll be right there!”

K&B

Now that Blaine and Trent were on speaking terms again, Trent and Ashton became regular dinner guests, and Kurt and Trent got along like a house on fire.

It shouldn’t have surprised Blaine, then, that Kurt knew about the engaged couple’s plans before he did. But it still shook him when Ashton proudly showed him the plans and sketches for the building he and Trent had bought and wanted to turn into an art gallery of their own. Both the interior design and the logo design had Kurt written all over them, so Kurt must have known about this for months, but he’d kept mum about it.

When the invitation arrived for the wedding, Kurt’s name was beautifully calligraphed next to Blaine’s on the envelope, and Blaine caught himself staring at the ‘&’ in between for a little too long.

Blaine was scared about turning into a dog at an inopportune moment during the ceremony, and had asked Kurt to stand in as best man if necessary, but it all passed without a hitch, even the best man speech.

And yet, it had been another close shave. Later that evening, the whole crowd gathered in the garden for a fireworks spectacle Ashton had arranged for Trent as a surprise. Fairy lights had been hung over all the trees, and the effect was charming. The fireworks went up, everyone oohed and aahed, and then filed back into the ballroom to dance and get wasted.

Kurt hung back, though, and told Blaine he’d rather stay outside a while longer. Blaine happily agreed to that, and when the music started up again in the ballroom, he hopped about happily to the sound of his favourite tunes and hummed along.

Kurt giggled at Blaine’s antics, his nose and eyes scrunching up and his teeth showing, and Blaine grinned at him and turned his energy up a notch.

A slower song came on, and Blaine coaxed Kurt into slow-dancing with him. They glided over the grass smoothly, Blaine’s hand on Kurt’s waist, and Kurt’s hand on Blaine’s shoulder, their cheeks so close they were almost touching. When the song ended, Kurt sighed, his warm breath washing over Blaine.

“You okay?” Blaine verified.

“Never better,” said Kurt, leaning in a little and looking at Blaine from under his lashes, and wow, how had Blaine never noticed how long and beautiful they were?

So entranced was Blaine that he didn’t notice he was turning into a dog until he was shrinking again, and then he let out a distressed whine. This was SO not the moment!

#puppy eyes #chapter 12 #my fic #klaine fanfiction

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andthisisthewonder · 7 years

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A/N: Despite starting this last year and working on it on and off since, I still only managed to finish this today. It’s a longer one at just over 10,000 words. Title from Frozen. Yes, Frozen, lol.

These past few months have been hell. Not only has Peeta been in and out of court battling his ex-wife for sole custody of his daughter, his new boss Ms. Everdeen won’t cut him any slack. So far, this holiday season sucks.

Someone Worth Melting For

The harsh clatter of high heels against linoleum announced her approach. Everyone sprang into action, a domino effect down the two rows of desks in the office. Madge clicked out of Pandora, which had been playing Christmas music behind the design she worked on. Delly shoved the brightly-colored wrappers of several Hershey kisses into her purse. With a wave of his arm, Finnick knocked all the Christmas decorations he had set out that morning into his desk drawer.

It wasn’t as if Katniss had forbidden them from celebrating Christmas. She just strongly discouraged a cluttered desk, and, for whatever reason, seemed to hate the holiday season.

Peeta shoved his cell phone in his pants pocket a second before Katniss rounded the corner. If she had heard Burl Ives urging everyone to have a “holly, jolly Christmas” as she approached, she made no indication. Unfortunately, she didn’t ignore the cell phone on Finnick’s desk. In his haste to hide the decorations, he had forgotten all about it.

While the rule about keeping personal phones out of sight during work hours existed before Katniss became their boss, she was the first one to actually enforce it. She was, above everything, a stickler for rules.

“Phone,” Katniss said as she walked down the aisle in between the two rows of desks.

The slam of Finnick’s drawer stopped her. She looked down at him, eyebrow raised. This was her usual expression when she was displeased. It was eerie how quiet she could be. Even when chewing someone out, she never raised her voice. She just turned that cold, disappointed expression toward her target and waited for him or her to wilt.

“Sorry.” Finnick forced a smile. “I was just eager to complete your request.”

“If only you applied such enthusiasm to your actual work,” Katniss said.

Finnick’s eyes widened, but before he could respond, Katniss disappeared into her office. As soon as the door shut behind her, Finnick tugged at his hair and pantomimed a silent scream.

“I thought she had a meeting,” Madge said, leaning across the aisle.

Peeta looked over his shoulder to confirm the blinds in Katniss’s office were closed. “Guess it ended early.”

“Everyone probably froze to death in Elsa’s presence,” Finnick said.

“Oh my goodness, would you stop with the Elsa crap?” Delly demanded, popping another Hershey kiss into her mouth. “I don’t know why you have to be so mean.”

Katniss had been their boss for three months, but it had only taken three days for Finnick to dub her the Ice Queen. Eventually, Madge had suggested they use the name Elsa, so they could shittalk Katniss in public without worry of repercussions. It was childish, but they desperately needed the outlet. Katniss was, to put it mildly, a real piece of work.

“Uh, maybe it’s because she’s a nightmare?” Finnick suggested.

Peeta leaned back in his chair and waved his open hand. Delly cast a surreptitious look at Katniss’s office before throwing Peeta a piece of candy.

“She really isn’t,” Delly insisted. “If you’d just have an actual conversation with her--”

“No thanks,” Finnick cut in. “I tried that. You know things have been...difficult at home.”

Delly’s expression softened. “How is Annie?”

Finnick stared down at the keyboard. Delly, Peeta, and Madge inched closer so the rest of their co-workers wouldn’t overhear. It wasn’t a huge department - there were only twelve of them - so everyone knew each other, but that didn’t mean everyone had to know everyone’s business.

“She’s back in the hospital,” Finnick said quietly.

Peeta winced, his gaze automatically flickering to the time bar on his computer: December 21. Only four days to Christmas, and Finnick might be spending it alone.

“The holidays have always been a trigger for her. I just thought we were prepared this year. I thought I was doing everything right…”

“You’re doing your best,” Delly said.

“I’ve just been stressed out. It’s hard to focus when I’m wondering how she’s feeling, if she’s lucid…” Finnick trailed off. “Anyway, I ventured into the Ice Queen’s office and asked if I could be taken off the Jensen project.”

“And?” Delly prompted.

“What do you think? She told me if I was too preoccupied to finish it, she’d be happy to relieve me of the rest of my projects too.”

A burst of anger shot through Peeta, staining his cheeks red. “She threatened to fire you?”

“Basically.”

Peeta clenched his fist and swallowed the stream of obscenities that threatened to spill from his mouth. Anger was an all too familiar emotion. He tried not to let it get the best of him, tried not to let it explode into a rage, but he couldn’t always help it. He had inherited his mother’s temper.

“Unbelievable,” Madge said. “I’d offer to help with your workload, but she just dumped two more projects into my lap.”

The landline on Peeta’s desk rang, interrupting their chat. Madge, Delly, and Finnick settled back into their chairs and returned to work as Peeta answered.

“Peeta Mellark.”

“Hello, Mr. Mellark, this is Nurse Henderson at Panem Elementary.”

Fuck.

Peeta squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he gave the person on the other end short, affirmative answers.

“I’ll be right there,” Peeta finally said, hanging up the phone.

“Everything okay?” Finnick asked.

“It’s Paige.”

“Again?” Madge asked.

Finnick sighed. “Good luck with Elsa.”

Before Peeta could move, Katniss opened her office door and cleared her throat. The noise immediately dissipated as all eyes turned toward her.

“After much consideration, I’ve decided to keep our department open the day after Christmas,” Katniss announced.

A chorus of groans rang out, but Katniss ignored them.

“With the amount of work that needs to be finished before the New Year, it would be irresponsible to close,” she continued.

Peeta had worked here for Abernathy Inc. for seven years, and every single year, the office had been closed from December 24th to the 26th. The decision was made in each individual department by the supervisor, but none of Katniss’s predecessors had ever decided to actually open the day after Christmas.

“We’re lucky Christmas Eve is a Sunday this year,” Finnick said.

“I bet she’d make us work Christmas if she could,” Madge said.

“Mr. Mellark?” Katniss called. “A word?”

Peeta followed Katniss into her office. She settled into her chair, but he remained standing.

“I need to take the afternoon off,” he said.

“Please take a seat.”

“It’s a family emergency. I really need to--”

Katniss stood suddenly, and walked around him to shut the door. When she returned to her seat, she folded her hands and looked up at him. Her face remained maddeningly calm.

“I received your time off request for next Wednesday afternoon,” she said.

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“Look, Mr. Mellark, you’re a hard worker. Your designs are always top quality, but you’ve been missing deadlines, and I know Delly’s been doing some of your work for you.”

This time the flush of his cheeks stemmed from embarrassment. He had always prided himself on being a capable, diligent employee no matter where he worked. But the past several months had been hell.

“I can’t allow you to leave early today and take off Wednesday afternoon. It’s just not feasible.”

Peeta’s jaw clenched. “I know I’m out of personal time. I can take it unpaid.”

“That’s not the issue. I need your current slate of projects completed before January 1st.”

Peeta balled his fists at his sides, his fingernails cutting into his palms, as he forced himself to remain calm. He was all too aware of the minutes ticking by. Paige was waiting for him.

“Well, Ms. Everdeen, with all due respect, this is ridiculous.” When her expression didn’t change, he nearly kicked her desk. He wanted some kind of reaction out of her, proof that she was more than a well-oiled robot. “I’m not waiting around. I told you it’s an emergency, and I’m leaving. Fire me if you want. I don’t care.”

He headed toward the door.

“Mr. Mellark,” Katniss said.

He grabbed the doorknob, but before he could storm out, two very strange things happened.

One, Katniss raised her voice, and two, she called him by his first name.

“Peeta, wait!”

It was a weird quirk of hers that she referred to everyone by their last names. Peeta would have preferred she use his first, but for whatever reason, she insisted on maintaining a certain distance from her employees.

When Peeta turned, he was surprised to find Katniss had come around her desk and had her hand outstretched, as if to stop him.

“You’re not required to disclose whatever is going on in your personal life. It’s none of my business. However, if there truly is a problem that’s going to continue to interfere with your work, then I think it’d be best if you explained what was going on.”

Peeta glanced at his watch. Anxiety burned in his chest, but he forced himself to take a breath. Paige was safe. She knew he was coming. He’d get to her soon.

Katniss gestured to the chair across from her desk. With great reluctance, Peeta sat down.

“Would you prefer I get someone from HR in here?” she asked.

“No, it’s…” Peeta stared down at his hands. “I’ve been in and out of court these past few months battling my ex-wife for full custody of our daughter.”

A beat passed as Katniss absorbed the information. “I see.”

“The court dates were often changed at the last minute. I needed a lot of time off.”

“Of course,” Katniss said.

“Your predecessor, Mr. Crane, didn’t care one way or another about my schedule as long as I completed my work.”

“So you never discussed it with him,” she said.

“No. And I didn’t feel comfortable discussing it with you.” He still didn’t, honestly, but this seemed like his only option.

Peeta chanced a glance up. Katniss’s eyes were fixed on the green stapler on her desk. Her expression was all wrong. Instead of cool indifference or even anger, she looked concerned.

“My daughter hasn’t taken the past few months well, as you can imagine.”

“How old is she?”

“She just turned six.” Peeta sat up straighter, but Katniss didn’t make eye contact. “She’s been dealing with a lot of anxiety, which is why I’ve been leaving the office early. She gets upset at school, and I pick her up.”

Silence stretched between them. Peeta assumed Katniss was judging him as either an incompetent father or an overindulgent one.

“I know I can’t keep pulling her out of school, but for now, I need her to know that I’ll come if she needs me. No matter what.”

Something truly miraculous happened next. Katniss smiled. It was a small smile, barely an upturn of her mouth, but it transformed her entire face. She looked softer, younger. More importantly, she looked like she understood.

He had a feeling that he could stop now, and she’d let him go, but it felt good to explain the situation to a neutral party. Finnick, Madge, and Delly would tell him he was making the right decisions no matter what. Katniss wouldn’t humor him.

“I’m taking her to her first therapy appointment on Wednesday. Usually you have to make it weeks in advance, but they managed to squeeze her in.”

“That’s great, Peeta.” Katniss cleared her throat and smoothed her blouse even though it was already free of wrinkles. “Perhaps we can compromise. I do need you to complete your current projects, but I would never ask you to choose between work and your daughter.”

Peeta nodded as he tried to hide his surprise. Katniss seemed exactly like the kind of person who would ask such a thing.

“I appreciate that.”

“Why don’t you bring your daughter back here?” Katniss suggested. “Get some work done today. Then, you can take off next Wednesday afternoon.”

“You want me to bring her here?”

“You can use my office. It’ll give her room to move around.”

Katniss was already standing and collecting her things before Peeta found his voice.

“Are you serious?”

“Unless you’re not comfortable having her here?”

“No, that’s not--” He stopped. He didn’t want to explain that her offer had surprised him because he believed her to be a cold, callous person who valued work above all else. Somehow, he doubted that’d go over well. “I just don’t want to put you out.”

“I can work at your desk,” she said as she gathered a pile of files. “It’s not a problem.”

Who was this person? Not only had she been completely understanding, but she also seemed eager to help.

“I--I’m going to go pick her up.”

“Okay,” Katniss said without looking up from the files she sorted.

Peeta hesitated before nodding once and exiting the office.

Finnick looked up as Peeta grabbed his coat off the back of his chair.

“Everything okay?” Finnick asked.

“I have no idea what just happened,” Peeta said as he tugged on his coat. Without further explanation, he turned the corner and hurried toward the elevator.

By the time Peeta returned to the office, Paige’s tears had dried and she no longer felt sick to her stomach.

“Well hey there, Miss Paige,” Finnick said, his wide eyes sliding from her face to Peeta’s. He cocked his head to the side in question, but Peeta shook his head.

“Hi,” she said quietly, clinging to her father’s leg.

“Paige!” Madge and Delly both waved, which she reluctantly returned.

“Paige is going to hang out here for the afternoon.” Peeta stuck a flash drive into the computer and began loading it with files.

“You need me to grab an extra chair?” Finnick asked, already on his feet. “I’m sure the meeting room on twelfth won’t miss it.”

“Actually, that won’t be necessary. We’re going to work in Ms. Everdeen’s office.”

“Elsa?” Finnick blurted out.

Paige, who knew Elsa only as the queen from Frozen, blinked up at him.

“Ms. Everdeen,” Peeta corrected as he ejected the flash drive. “We’ll be in her office, and she’ll be at my desk.”

“Oh.” Finnick deflated. “Super.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Peeta said, leading Paige down the aisle. The rest of his co-workers greeted Paige with smiles and welcomes, but she only waved quietly back.

Katniss was hunched over her desk, her back to the open door when Peeta and Paige came in. Peeta handed Paige her backpack.

“Why don’t you put that on the couch?” he said.

Katniss turned around at the sound of his voice. The smile she wore disappeared as her gaze landed on the back of Paige’s head.

“Ms. Everdeen, this is my daughter, Paige.”

Katniss stared, lips parted, her expression blank until Paige returned to her father’s side.

��Ms. Everdeen?” Peeta prompted.

“Hi!” Katniss blurted out. “I’m sorry. It’s just...she looks so much like you.” She gestured between the two of them. While both were blonde and blue-eyed, Peeta had always thought Paige took after her mother.

“Paige, this is my boss, Ms. Everdeen.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Katniss said, taking a step closer. “I really like your hair.”

Paige grabbed one of the blonde braids that hung over her shoulders and frowned down at it. “Daddy did them,” Paige said. “But he made them too loose. They got messed up at school.”

Peeta tugged on her other braid. “I’m getting better. I just need more practice.”

“Do you want me to fix them for you?” Katniss asked.

Peeta’s mouth fell open, but Katniss didn’t notice. Her focus was completely on Paige.

“Do you know how to braid?” Paige asked.

“I do,” Katniss said.

“Can you do a French braid?”

Katniss nodded. “Come sit down.”

Paige settled onto the couch sideways, folding her legs in front of her.

“You don’t have to do that,” Peeta said.

While Katniss didn’t seem like the type of person to do something she didn’t want to, he still worried. Not only had he forced her out of her office, but he was now eating into her time. It didn’t matter that she had volunteered both.

“I’ll just take an early lunch break,” Katniss said as she pulled out a small brush from her purse.

“I just don’t want to keep you.”

Katniss’s hand froze halfway to Paige’s hair. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m overstepping.”

“Wait. That’s not what I meant. Just ignore me.”

Katniss bit her lip. He had never seen her look anything but one hundred percent certain of herself.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes. Please fix the disaster I braided into my daughter’s hair.”

“It’s not a disaster, Daddy,” Paige said.

“Give yourself a little credit. This is pretty good.” Katniss pulled the two elastics out of Paige’s hair before carefully unraveling her braids.

Peeta sat behind Katniss’s desk and watched as she brushed Paige’s hair with a gentle hand. He stuck the flash drive into the computer, but his gaze wandered back to the couch before he could open a single file.

He had to get some work done. He had to show Katniss he could balance his personal life with work. But then Katniss asked a question.

“What grade are you in?”

“First,” Paige replied.

“Do you get homework in first grade?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind?”

There wasn’t much substance to the conversation, but it was still a conversation. Paige had been so quiet since her mother had moved out. She always answered Peeta’s questions, but she wasn’t her usual chatty self. Typically, when he arrived home from work, she’d throw herself into his arms and talk his ear off about her day at school.

Her teacher had mentioned how withdrawn she’d become, how she no longer raised her hand or played with her friends.

But here she was having a quiet conversation with an adult she had never met before. Maybe it was easier for Paige to speak when she didn’t have to look at the other person, or maybe she realized how rude it would be to remain silent while Katniss did her hair.

Either way, this day was getting stranger.

A couple of minutes later, Peeta still hadn’t made a single edit in Photoshop, but Katniss had finished Paige’s braid.

“There,” Katniss said softly. “All done.”

Paige slipped off the couch and stood in front of her father. “How does it look?”

“Gorgeous,” Peeta said. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and shot Katniss an apologetic look before snapping a picture.

Paige leaned in close to see. “Wow!” she said. “You’re really good.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Katniss said as she stood and slipped her purse over her shoulder.

Her comment surprised Peeta. He had never seen her hair in any sort of braid before. Most of the time it was pulled back in a low, sleek ponytail. Other times, she wore it in a bun, not a hair out of place.

For the first time, Peeta wondered if Katniss had children or siblings. There were no family pictures in her office, and she usually arrived earlier and stayed later than everyone else. If she had family, she didn’t see them much.

“Thank you. Can I do your hair now?” Paige asked.

Katniss opened her mouth, but Peeta spoke first. “Ms. Everdeen has a lot of work to do. We shouldn’t keep her.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“It was very nice to meet you, Paige,” Katniss said. Even though she wore a skirt and heels, she crouched down so she was eye level with Paige and held out her hand. Paige grasped it with her own and they shook.

“It was very nice to meet you too, Miss Everdeen.”

Peeta beamed, proud of his daughter’s good manners.

“Please, call me Katniss.”

Peeta did a double take, but Katniss didn’t notice. She was already out the door.

When Peeta and Paige emerged a little after five, he found half the office gone, including Katniss.

“She left for a conference call an hour ago,” Finnick said, shrugging on his coat. “She said she didn’t want to disturb us with all the tedium.”

Peeta’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Did she actually make a joke?”

“I think she did,” Finnick said. “You know, I thought it was going to be a nightmare having her out here with us, but it was fine. Just quieter than usual. She even accepted a Hershey kiss from Delly.”

After Finnick switched off his computer monitor, he followed Peeta and Paige to the elevator.

“You going to explain what all this was today?” Finnick asked.

“What do you mean?”

The trio walked onto the elevator. Finnick hit the button for the Lobby. “You went from being in some sort of trouble to hijacking her office for an afternoon.”

Peeta didn’t want to go into too much detail with Paige standing at his side, so he simply shrugged. “We compromised.”

“Are you sure that’s all you did?” Finnick asked. “Because before she left, she told me to have a good evening.”

“Miss Katniss did my hair,” Paige said. “She’s really good at braiding.”

Finnick’s eyes widened as he studied Paige’s hair. “She, uh, did a good job.”

“Yeah,” Paige said. “She’s really nice.”

For once, Finnick didn’t have a single thing to say.

The next day, Peeta stepped off the elevator balancing three trays of cookies Paige had helped him bake the night before.

The company had already thrown their official holiday party. It had been a stuffy affair held in the ballroom of a hotel down the street. Peeta hadn’t attended as he hadn’t wanted to bother his sister-in-law, Hailey, who served as Paige’s unofficial babysitter. Hailey swore she didn’t mind watching Paige, but Peeta still felt guilty. As a Registered Nurse in the Emergency Room at Panem Memorial, Hailey had a crazy work schedule. There was no way Peeta was going to ask her to watch Paige after a twelve-hour shift just so he could wear an uncomfortable suit and mingle with people he barely knew.

Turns out, he didn’t miss much as he got a summary from Finnick the next day: “Absolutely awful. Terribly boring. But the booze was free.”

Individual departments had their own parties if they wanted, which Peeta’s had done for the past few years. He had worried Katniss would disapprove even though the party was after-hours and offsite, but she never commented on it. Even after Delly invited her - which Finnick had begged her not to do - and Katniss had politely declined, she said nothing more about it.

Delly was holding the potluck-slash-booze fest at her apartment a couple of hours after work, so he decided to bring the cookies in now. She could cart them home and serve them later.

“Peeta, no!” Madge frowned at him from her desk. “You’re not coming tonight, are you?”

“No sitter,” Peeta said. He didn’t want to bother Hailey, and he was reluctant to leave Paige with someone he didn’t know. Eventually, when the custody issue was settled and his divorce was finalized, Peeta would look for a sitter outside of his family. But for now, he just couldn’t leave Paige with a stranger.

“You suck!” Finnick called as Peeta disappeared into the breakroom.

Peeta nearly stopped in the doorway when he saw Katniss leaning against the counter, stirring a mug of coffee as she stared into the distance. He quickly recovered and set the trays down beside her.

“Good morning, Ms. Everdeen.”

She startled at the sound of his voice. “Good morning, Mr. Mellark,” she replied. “Is it someone’s birthday?”

“No, these are cookies for, uh, tonight’s Christmas party.” He didn’t know why he was so reluctant to mention it around her. It wasn’t as if Katniss could stop them from having it.

“I thought Ms. Cartwright was hosting.”

“She is, but I can’t make it, and I’m in charge of dessert.”

“Can’t have a party without dessert.” She took a sip of her coffee.

Peeta thought he caught a small smile hidden behind her mug, but he couldn’t be sure.

Katniss was in her typical professional attire: pencil skirt, matching blazer, a white collared shirt peeking out from underneath. Her hair was pulled back into its usual ponytail. Despite all this, she seemed a little more approachable today, a little warmer.

Instead of hightailing it out of there as he would have any other day, he offered her a cookie.

“A cookie?” she echoed.

“Yeah. I’ve got peanut butter blossoms, chocolate chip, and sugar cookies.”

Without waiting for her response, he opened the top tray. He almost grabbed a Christmas tree-shaped sugar cookie before he remembered her dislike for the holiday. Instead he grabbed a star, decorated with red and green icing.

“You made these?” she asked, peeking at the assortment over his shoulder.

“Yeah. Paige and I had a baking party last night.”

He grabbed a paper towel off the counter and wrapped the cookie in it.

“I shouldn’t,” she said as he tried to hand it to her. “They’re for the party.”

“But you can’t go,” he reminded her. “You should get at least one.”

“Thank you.”

He was surprised by the sincerity in her voice. She sounded genuinely appreciative as if he had presented her with a very thoughtful gift.

“What about you?” she asked.

He grinned. “Don’t worry. There’s a plate at home for Paige and I to share.”

“No, I mean the party. If you don’t mind my asking, why can’t you attend?”

“Oh.” His smile faded. “No sitter.”

“That’s unfortunate. You weren’t able to attend the company’s party either.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“I guess.” Her mouth twisted with doubt. “You seem stressed. You could probably use a fun evening with your friends.”

“You too,” he said without thinking.

Her eyebrows shot up. He braced himself for a reprimand, but she didn’t deliver one. “I don’t have any children,” she said. “My nights are quiet.”

That was one mystery about her solved. He shrugged. “It’s just drinking and listening to Christmas music for a few hours.”

“I’m sure it’s more than that. I could…” She stopped, as if reconsidering whatever she was going to say. She glanced at the closed door. “I could watch Paige for you.”

If he had thought Katniss couldn’t surprise him more than she had yesterday, he was sorely mistaken. There was no way he had heard her correctly.

“You could...watch Paige?”

“I have a lot of experience watching children,” she said. “I can cook, I’m CPR-certified, and I could come to you.”

“I…”

While Katniss’s offer was completely unexpected, he was more surprised that he was considering it. She had gotten along with Paige so well yesterday. And she certainly wasn’t a stranger.

“I’m sorry.” Katniss dumped the remainder of her coffee into the sink and rinsed out her mug. “That was inappropriate. I just wanted…” She shook her head and put her mug into the dish rack to dry.

“No, I was just...surprised,” Peeta finally said. It was the word of the day. “I figured you were busy since you couldn’t come to the party.”

“Oh. No, I don’t have plans, but I know the invite was just a courtesy. No one really wants their boss at a party.”

Peeta almost contradicted her, but he decided there was no point. Katniss would never believe him. More importantly though, she didn’t seem hurt by it. It was just another fact of life to her.

If Peeta hadn’t seen her with Paige the day before, there was no way he would consider this. But Katniss was experienced, and he didn’t doubt she was responsible. And Paige had asked about her before going to bed last night…

“You really don’t mind?” He wanted to ask her again. Maybe twice more. He couldn’t believe this was really happening.

“Definitely not. What time should I be over?”

“Six-thirty would be great,” he said. “Paige will already have had dinner and be in her pajamas. Bedtime is eight-thirty.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“I’ll be home by eleven. Earlier if you need me to.”

This time there was no hesitation in her smile. “You don’t have to rush home. I’ll bring a book.”

“I have Netflix,” he blurted out.

“Even better.”

He rattled off his address, and she nodded.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she said.

As he watched her leave the kitchen, he thought about how her words, when considered out of context, sounded like the promise of a date.

Paige didn’t take the news of Peeta’s plans to go out very well, but she brightened at the identity of her babysitter.

“Do you think she’ll braid my hair again?”

“I’m sure if you ask nicely, she will,” Peeta said.

Paige considered this.

“I’ll have my phone with me.” He wanted to reassure her that he would come home if she needed him without encouraging her to call. She had to get better at being away from him. It was a hard balance to maintain.

Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

Peeta’s doorbell rang at exactly 6:25. Of course Katniss was early. He swung open the door to find someone much younger - and shorter - than the Ms. Everdeen he worked with. It wasn’t as if he expected Katniss to show up in her skirt and blazer, but he had never imagined her wearing anything else. He couldn’t.

But here she was dressed in skinny jeans and a plain green sweater. Her hair was braided and hanging over her right shoulder. He couldn’t believe how much younger she looked, how much softer. This was a woman he would approach in a bar, a woman he could hold a conversation with. He had always thought Katniss was beautiful, but it was more in an objective way. She was beautiful, sure, but she was also a pain-in-the-ass.

Tonight though, he forgot about the frustration and anger. Tonight she wasn’t Ms. Everdeen. She was just Katniss.

“You’re shorter,” he blurted out.

There was that smile again. Wide and unguarded. “I wear heels at work.”

Right. Of course. He knew that. He had just never considered what she looked like out of them.

He gave Katniss a tour of the downstairs, Paige joining them as they walked through the living room. Katniss lingered in front of the pictures on the wall, a combination of photos of Paige and paintings Peeta had completed over the years. She didn’t ask or comment on them, although he could tell she wanted to by the way her gaze kept drifting back to them. He knew it was the rules she lived her life by that kept her from asking. She was overly concerned with coming off as rude or inappropriate, which is why this entire night felt so surreal. She didn’t want to overstep, yet here she was, in his house, babysitting his daughter.

“Can I show you my room?” Paige asked when they reached the kitchen.

“Sure.”

Katniss followed Paige upstairs. A couple of moments later, he heard laughter. He wanted to follow them, find out what was so funny, what had managed to crack not only Katniss’s serious exterior but Paige’s as well, but he didn’t want to interrupt.

After they returned to the kitchen, Peeta took Paige aside and asked once more if she was comfortable staying home with Katniss. The stress of the last few months had turned him into a worrier. He wondered if Paige could sense it, if her anxiety was his fault.

“It’s okay,” Paige said. “Miss Katniss said we could watch a movie if it was alright with you.”

“Of course,” Peeta said. “Bedtime at eight-thirty. Don’t eat too many cookies.”

Paige nodded.

“Why don’t you get two glasses of milk for you and Katniss while I talk to her?”

As Paige disappeared back into the kitchen, he gestured for Katniss to come into the living room.

“So you’re sure you don’t mind doing this?” he asked.

“Peeta, I’m already here. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to actually do it.”

She had called him Peeta again. He liked his first name on her lips.

“But I do need your phone number,” she said. “Just in case I need to reach you.”

She stored his number in her phone after he recited it. “Do you have a landline?” she asked.

When he shook his head, she looked back down at her cell phone. “I’ll send you a text, so you have my number too.”

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out to find a simple “Hello” from an unknown number. He added her to his contacts, debating whether or not to list her as Ms. Everdeen. Finally, he just typed in her full name.

“I’ll be back by eleven,” he promised.

She shrugged. “Take your time. Paige and I will be fine.”

Finnick threw his hands in the air as Peeta followed Delly into the living room. “You made it!”

Peeta grinned at his friends as Madge handed him a hard cider.

“You found a sitter?” Madge asked.

Peeta took a long drink as he considered what to say. Katniss hadn’t mentioned anything about keeping her actions a secret, but he doubted she wanted others to know. She was so careful about keeping her personal life separate from her work life.

“Hailey,” Peeta finally said. “She insisted I go out and have some fun.”

“Your sister-in-law is amazing,” Finnick said.

“I know,” Peeta agreed. “Now where are you hiding all the food?”

Delly laughed and led him into the kitchen.

When Peeta left at ten-fifteen, the party showed no sign of slowing down. Everyone was stressed out for one reason or another. They all needed an outlet. Finnick, Delly, and Madge begged him to stay, but he had to get home. While the party had worked wonders for his anxiety, he couldn’t keep reality out forever.

He walked into his house at 10:30 to find Katniss curled under a throw blanket on the couch watching the Hallmark channel.

“You do like Christmas,” he said without thinking.

Katniss leaned back against the couch cushion, her head tilted up so she could see him. “I never said I didn’t.”

Peeta racked his brain, trying to come up with a specific example of her dislike for the holiday, but came up empty. It was just the vibe she gave off.

“I told you that you didn’t have to hurry home,” she said as he sat down beside her. Well, almost beside her. He left a respectable gap at least a foot wide between them.

“I know. I just didn’t want to take advantage.”

“You didn’t. I had fun with Paige. She even talked me into letting her stay up until nine.”

Peeta’s eyes widened. “You broke a rule?”

Katniss stood and folded the blanket. “The babysitter always extends bedtime. And gives an extra cookie. That’s why they’re the babysitter and not the parent.” She draped the blanket over the back of the couch. “So really, I was just following a different set of rules.”

Peeta laughed. “Well, thank you for telling me. I’ll need to know these things when I finally find a permanent babysitter for Paige.”

“Until then, I don’t mind watching her.” Katniss rolled her eyes. “Stop looking so surprised.”

“Can you blame me? How many people turn to their boss for child care?”

Katniss sat back down and stared at her lap. “I’m just trying to be helpful. Paige is sweet, and you’re...a really good employee.”

“Thanks.”

“I...I don’t want to bring up anything uncomfortable. And you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but...Paige talked to me about your ex-wife.”

Everything good about that night disappeared. The food and alcohol which had tasted so good going down suddenly curdled in his stomach.

“She did?”

“She told me some very personal things, and I didn’t think it was right to keep that from you,” Katniss said.

He buried his face in his hands, hoping not having to look at Katniss would make this easier. Could Paige have told her everything that had happened? It wasn’t a secret, or it wasn’t supposed to be, but Peeta had never told his friends the complete truth. Paige refused to talk about it. Peeta worried what it would do to her to keep it all inside, but he didn’t push her even when the Department of Children, Youth, and Families had interviewed her. He wanted her to talk to someone, but he had never expected that Katniss would be the person she opened up to.

“What did she say?” he asked.

“She thinks everything is her fault. Your ex-wife moving out, the divorce, your stress...she’s afraid you’re mad at her.”

His heart plummeted, landing in the swirling mess of acid eating away at his stomach. His worst possible fear had come true, and of course, Ms. Everdeen, the source of his stress at work, had to be the messenger.

“But I told her…” Peeta stood and hurried into the kitchen, worried that if he didn’t move right away, he’d be sick on the living room floor.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

Peeta spun around at the sound of Katniss’s voice to find her standing in the entrance of the kitchen.

“I told her I wasn’t mad. I told her it wasn’t her fault. I’ve said it so many times,” Peeta said.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” Peeta slammed his fist on the counter. Katniss jumped, and he immediately regretted his actions. He had to keep his temper under control. He had to stop acting like his mother, like Glimmer...he was better than this.

“That night we spent at the hotel, I told her what her mother did was wrong. That she didn’t deserve to be insulted or hit or…” Peeta trailed off.

He had tried so hard to avoid becoming his mother that he hadn’t noticed he’d married a woman just like her. He’d never forget the night he came home early from work to find Glimmer screaming at Paige over a spilled cup of juice. He’d never forget the the sight of Glimmer pulling her hand back or the sound it made when her palm connected with Paige’s face.

How long had it been like that? How could he not have noticed?

He had very nearly grabbed Glimmer and thrown her across the room. He wanted to rage and yell and hurt her the same way, but Paige’s tears had stopped him. He couldn’t fight Glimmer’s violence with violence of his own. He picked up Paige, told Glimmer she had twenty-four hours to move her stuff out of the house, and spent the night at a hotel in the next town over.

“You did the right thing,” Katniss said. “It sounds like you’ve done all the right things.”

Peeta shook his head. “I let it happen. How could I not have known?”

“It doesn’t matter that you didn’t see it at first. You can’t change that. Abusers are good at hiding their true colors. What matters is that you took immediate action. You didn’t make excuses. You didn’t give her another chance to hurt Paige.”

He stared at Katniss for a long moment. Katniss wouldn’t lie to him. She wasn’t in the habit of softening a blow or holding back. He had seen how blunt she could be at work. He let out a shuddering breath and tried to absorb her words.

“Once all of this is over, and you have sole custody, things will get back to normal. Paige will get better,” Katniss continued.

“Thank you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry too. I know you try to keep your distance and now...”

“It’s okay.” She fiddled with her braid and looked down at her feet. “I should probably get going.”

“You don’t have to.” He didn’t want to be alone, cycling through thoughts of shame and guilt for the rest of the night. Her hesitation suggested she might not want to leave either. “Weren’t you watching a movie?”

“Yeah. Who knows how it’ll end? Hallmark can be so unpredictable.”

He laughed. For the longest time, he had assumed Katniss didn’t possess a sense of humor. As it turned out, she had just been hiding that dry sarcasm.

They settled back on the couch. The silence between them wasn’t exactly tense, but it wasn’t an easy, relaxing one either.

“It’s not that I don’t care,” Katniss said as the movie cut to commercial.

“About what?”

“About you and...everyone else at work. I know everyone thinks I’m some sort of ice queen who doesn’t care, but...I do.”

Peeta turned at least three different shades of red. Was it possible she knew about their nickname for her? Her use of “ice queen” was way too coincidental otherwise. “I don’t think that.”

“Don’t lie. It’s okay.” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “I just have trouble connecting with people. Part of me doesn’t want to.”

“Why?”

“It’s just easier.”

At first he thought the conversation was over. Her terse answer didn’t invite a follow up question. Tension had sprouted between them, and he knew the topic of conversation was the cause. The commercial break ended, they both stared at the television, but after another moment, she spoke.

“I’ve been alone for a long time. I’m not sure I remember how to not be alone.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he said.

“No, I want to.” She brushed her braid off her shoulder before settling her hands back in her lap. They were clasped together so tightly, her knuckles were white. “My dad died when I was eleven, and my sister...she was killed by a drunk driver over winter break her senior year of high school.”

“Katniss, I...I’m so sorry.” Without thinking, he laid his hand over hers and squeezed.

“It was hard after my father died. I did everything I could to make sure Prim was happy, that she never wanted for anything. I did odd jobs around my neighborhood, and when I finally turned fifteen, I found a job at the grocery store. When I graduated from high school, I got a secretary position at Abernathy’s.”

Peeta didn’t know what to say. He had no idea Katniss had been with the company for so long. If she had started as a secretary and worked her way up to a managerial position, she was obviously smart and capable. She had to know what she was doing.

“I saved every cent I could to make sure Prim could go to whatever college she wanted,” Katniss continued. “She wanted to be a doctor.”

And then she had died a few months shy of her high school graduation. Imagining Katniss’s loss cracked his chest open. He tried to make it real, imagine it as one of his brothers, but he couldn’t. It was unfathomable.

“It was all for nothing in the end,” Katniss said. “A college fund for no one.”

He wanted to pull her into his arms. He knew whatever he said right now wouldn’t help. But he doubted Katniss would allow it.

“After she died, I just kept working and saving. I don’t know how to do anything else.”

Katniss was stuck in survival mode. It sounded as if she had been there since her father’s death, and had never found her way out. Her grief was a labyrinth, and while he couldn’t relate to her specific tragedies, he knew what it was to forget how to live. To wander the maze with no hope of escape, just the drive to go around one more corner, make it through one more day.

A tear slipped down Katniss’s cheek. She practically slapped herself in her haste to wipe it away.

“I shouldn’t have told you all that,” she said.

“I’m glad you did.”

She shook her head. “Can I tell you something else then? Something I shouldn’t and clearly makes me a terrible boss?”

Peeta’s heart rate rose as he realized how close the two of them now were. His hand still rested on hers.

“Mr. Abernathy is considering layoffs in the new year,” she said.

Peeta blinked in surprise. At first, he felt ashamed that he had hoped Katniss would confess something else, but it quickly changed to shock. “Layoffs?”

“It’s why I’ve been so hard on everyone. Why I want to open the day after Christmas. You’re all hard-working, talented employees. I don’t want to give Mr. Abernathy a reason to doubt your dedication.”

Peeta sat back and covered his face. He wanted to laugh. He could feel it bubbling up in his throat.

“I can’t believe this,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Katniss said. “I know I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s holiday. I just wanted you to understand.”

“We were so wrong about you,” Peeta said.

“I don’t know,” Katniss said with a small smile. “The nickname Elsa sort of fits.”

“Oh my god.” He dropped his hands. “You know about that?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“I am so sorry. You just, you seemed so…”

She shrugged. “Usually I don’t care what people think about me. But I guess I just wanted you to know that I’m not as bad as you think.”

He couldn’t tell if there was a deeper meaning to her confession. Out of all the employees in the office, she specifically wanted him to know she was a real live person with real live feelings? Or had she confessed because he was the only one she had ever seen outside of the office?

It didn't matter. Or it couldn’t, at least not right now. Tears were still drying on her face, but at least she was smiling.

“I have to ask you then...why didn’t you lessen Finnick’s workload when he told you about his wife?”

Katniss’s smile immediately disappeared. “What about his wife?”

Shit. “You mean, he didn’t explain why he was feeling so stressed out?”

“No. He said he felt overwhelmed, and was hoping to give one of his projects to someone else. I thought he was trying to get out of doing work. I had no idea something else was going on.”

“I thought he told you.”

Katniss rubbed her forehead, her mouth twisted in a scowl. “It doesn’t matter that he didn’t. He felt stressed out, and I dismissed him. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Seneca.”

“Mr. Crane?” Peeta asked.

“He warned me about Finnick before I took over. Told me he liked to slack off. I shouldn’t have listened. I should have waited and formed my own opinion.” She met Peeta’s eyes. “I’ll fix it. I promise.”

“You’re too hard on yourself. Everything will be fine.”

“And you’re way too optimistic.” She glanced at the cable box beneath the television and sighed. “I should get going before I tell you anything else I regret.”

“Hey.” He touched her arm. “I don’t regret what you know about me now. I’m glad Paige found someone to open up to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. So you shouldn’t regret it either. It’s good to get out of your own head every once in a while.”

She smiled, and once more, his pulse raced. He couldn’t decide if this attraction to Katniss had been there all along, buried beneath the stress she caused, or if it had developed over the evening as the real Katniss came into focus.

He walked her to the door and thanked her once more for watching Paige. And then before he could change his mind, he blurted out, “You should come over Sunday night. For dinner.”

Her eyes widened “On Christmas Eve? Are you sure that’s--”

“Don’t say appropriate.”

“I don’t want to intrude on your time with your daughter.”

“Are you kidding? Paige would be thrilled if you joined us.”

“Is this a pity invite? Because you know I’ll be alone?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. No pity invites here.”

She bit her lip. “What’s the dress code?”

He suppressed a laugh, but he was sure she could see the amusement on his face. “How about you dress to your comfort, and I’ll dress up or down accordingly?”

“Okay.”

“Come for six?”

“Okay,” she repeated. “I’m going to leave before I realize this is a terrible idea and change my mind.”

“Better hurry,” he said. “I’ll let you know how that Hallmark movie ends.”

While Peeta failed to talk to Paige about what she said to Katniss, he succeeded in telling his daughter that Katniss was coming to dinner.

She was, to put it mildly, excited. “She is so cool, Dad! We watched Tangled, and it turns out Rapunzel is her favorite princess too! She said she could give me Rapunzel hair.”

While Peeta had no idea what Paige meant by “Rapunzel hair,” he did learn a lot about Katniss thanks to his daughter. For example, Katniss loved to read and had been thrilled to read a chapter of Charlotte’s Web to Paige before bed. She practiced yoga regularly and had shown Paige a few poses. And, most importantly, her favorite kind of pie was apple, and therefore, it was on the menu for tonight.

Two minutes before six, the doorbell rang. As soon as Peeta opened the door, Katniss thrust a bottle of wine at him.

“I picked this up, and then I realized I have no idea if you even like wine.” She pulled a box of green tea out of her purse and pushed it into his free hand. “But I know you like tea, so I have backup.”

He was surprised to find the tea she had purchased matched the kind he kept at work. Apparently, without him noticing, she had been paying attention.

“You’re in luck. I enjoy both wine and tea. Come on in,” he said.

He moved aside, giving her room to step over the threshold. He was lucky his hands were full because instinct had him reaching for the small of her back to guide her. He shut the door, and they both went into the kitchen.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

“Water’s fine. Thank you.”

As he grabbed a glass from the cabinet, he felt the distance between them, the easy familiarity of the other night gone. He worried they wouldn’t be able to recreate it until Katniss held out her arms.

“I settled on a sweater dress and tights. Not fancy, but not too casual. What do you think?” she asked.

He glanced down at his dark blue jeans and red sweater and nodded his approval. “I think I don’t have to change. I did have a suit hanging in my closet just in case.”

“What would you have done if I had shown up in my pajamas?”

“I would have left you standing on the doorstep while I ran to change into sweatpants.”

“Alright. Next time it’s sweatpants.”

She turned away and took a sip of her water, missing the look of shock on his face. Next time. There was going to be a next time.

Katniss pulled a set of flower clips from her purse. “Is Paige upstairs?”

“Yeah.” He eyed the clips. “What are those?”

“I told her next time I saw her, I’d make her look like Rapunzel, which means lots of flowers.”

An unexpected warmth filled him as he studied Katniss. She appeared genuinely excited.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

“It’s fun doing someone’s hair again.” She swept past him and disappeared up the stairs.

Her sister. Of course. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it before. Katniss had a talent for braiding and watching children because she had done so much for her younger sister.

When Katniss and Paige came down fifteen minutes later, Paige wore her Rapunzel dress, her hair in a long braid down her back with at least a dozen flowers decorating it. She and Katniss looked so happy, it made Peeta’s chest ache.

“Ready for dinner?” he asked.

Peeta decided not to enforce Paige’s bedtime, knowing she’d fall asleep eventually. Halfway through the live action version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, she passed out in Peeta’s lap. Katniss carefully plucked the flower clips out of Paige’s hair before Peeta picked her up and deposited her in bed.

When he returned to the couch, he sat a little closer to Katniss. Not enough to touch her or make her uncomfortable. Just a little closer.

“Thank you for dinner tonight,” she said. “The apple pie was delicious.”

“You have Paige to thank for that.”

“You even remembered the vanilla ice cream.” She finished the small amount of wine remaining in her glass and looked over at him. “I guess I should go?”

He liked that she posed it as a question, that she hadn’t bothered to stand up or pull on her boots.

“If you go now, you’ll miss the best part,” he said.

“Something better than delicious food and good company?”

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

A moment after he disappeared down the hall into his home office, he reappeared with two Santa hats. He threw one to Katniss before tugging the other onto his head.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Are you ready for elf duty?”

Her eyes lit up. “You mean put out presents for Paige?”

“We also have to eat the cookies she left out. If you’re up to the task.”

Katniss stood up and pulled the hat on. “Lead the way.”

A week ago, if someone had told Peeta that Ms. Everdeen, his rigid, overly serious boss would be in his house helping him place gifts around the Christmas tree, he would have doubled over in laughter. But this woman next to him, this sweet, thoughtful, beautiful woman was nothing like the Ms. Everdeen he knew. He recognized traces of her. There was an intense focus on her face as she arranged the gifts, and despite the confessions they had shared with each other, she still hadn’t asked him about the art on his walls.

But there was warmth in her expression now, and her smiles came so easily. He could tease her without worry of reprimand. He could notice how beautiful she was and how good she smelled, and when he touched her hand, he could pretend it was an accident.

After they had carefully arranged the presents, they sat on the floor, the lights dim, wine glasses in hand, and talked. For two hours, Katniss came into sharper focus as whatever walls she usually hid behind crumbled. The blue, red, and green lights from the tree danced across her face as she threw her head back and laughed at the story of Paige’s first encounter with a mall Santa. When she set her wine glass down and looked over at him with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, he couldn’t help but lean closer.

“Has she been back to see Santa since?” Katniss asked.

“Yes, but we never made it this year.”

“No time?”

“No, there was time. Christmas just felt different this year, I guess. Usually, she starts dropping hints about going to see Santa on Thanksgiving, but it didn’t come up this year.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. You definitely made up for it.” She tilted her head toward the mounds of gifts surrounding the tree.

Peeta laughed. Yeah, guilt had definitely been the driving force behind his purchases this year.

“Thank you for coming over tonight,” he said. “Paige had a lot of fun with you. I don’t think it would have been the same without you.”

Katniss shook her head and looked down at her lap. “I highly doubt that. You two make a wonderful little family.”

“Thanks, but I mean it. It made a difference to me.”

He reached out to touch her hair. When she didn’t move away, he tucked a few strands behind her ear. She swallowed, and he resisted the urge to press his mouth to her throat and trace the movement with his tongue.

“You couldn’t stand me a few days ago,” she said.

“I was an idiot a few days ago,” he replied. “I should have listened to Delly. She kept saying if we just had a conversation with you, we’d realize you weren’t so bad.”

“Is that what I should do then? Start offering child care to all my employees? Crash their holiday dinners?”

“I hope not,” he said. “I kind of thought I was special.”

“You are.” She squeezed her eyes shut. It was hard to tell with the lights so dim, but he thought he saw her blush. “I mean…”

When she didn’t try to explain further, he leaned forward, and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and unsure, but the longer it went on without her pulling away, the bolder he became. He cupped the side of her face, his fingers disappearing into her hair, and sucked on her bottom lip. She grabbed a fistful of his sweater to pull him closer. A moment later, she was on her back, her hips cradling his as he hovered over her.

“Wait.” Her fist flattened into a palm against his chest.

“Please don’t,” he said, his breathing heavy. “Can’t we worry about appropriate later?”

She laughed softly. “I was going to ask if you heard something. I don’t think Paige should come downstairs and find us like this.”

He paused and listened hard, but there was no noise.

“I think we’re okay,” he whispered.

“You’re right though,” she said. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“That’s not even close to what I said.”

“There are so many reasons why I should go.”

She was his boss. He was in the middle of a divorce and fighting for full custody. Paige was upstairs. And yet.

“I feel like if you go now, then that’ll be it. It’ll be like this never happened.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” she said.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

When he kissed her again, there was no hesitation. She wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him closer. Time slipped away as his hands wandered beneath her dress, and she gasped into his mouth.

“Do you think we should go upstairs?” she asked as he kissed a trail down her neck.

“Are you sure?”

Suddenly, she was Ms. Everdeen again, serious and composed, as she looked him in the eye and said, “I am one hundred percent sure.”

Her footsteps on the stairs were soundless. When they reached his bedroom, he didn’t bother turning on the light.

The next morning, he woke up to Paige dive-bombing his bed. He sat up in a panic, unsure how he was going to explain Katniss in bed with him, when he realized there was no Katniss to explain. It was just him, and now Paige jumping up and down. Peeta’s heart sank as he looked around the room, but there was nothing to suggest Katniss had ever been there much less spent the night.

Only a few hours ago, Katniss had curled up in his arms as his eyes fluttered shut, the worry he constantly lived with finally giving him a reprieve. He fell asleep content and calm, the scent of her hair on his skin.

But now...

Peeta finally snapped out of it when Paige jumped into arms.

“I guess you want to open presents?” he asked.

“Presents!” And then she was out of his bedroom, running down the stairs.

Peeta shoved the night before out his mind, buried his disappointment, and went downstairs to celebrate Christmas with his daughter.

An hour later, as Paige danced around the living room in her new Rapunzel dress and Peeta cleaned up the discarded wrapping paper, his phone beeped.

It was a text message from Katniss.

I’m sorry to disturb you at home on Christmas, but I wanted to let you all know that after much consideration, I have decided to close our department tomorrow. Please respond, so I know that you received this message. Have a wonderful day off with your families. Merry Christmas.

Peeta nearly sent his phone flying across the room. It wasn’t a group text. She must have sent it to each person individually, and yet his read like any other generic message you sent to an employee you barely knew.

He sent a thumbs up emoji back, shoved his cell phone back into his pocket, and returned to cleaning. He didn’t hear from her for the rest of the day.

The next day, after he dropped Paige off at Rye and Hailey’s house so she could celebrate a second Christmas with her cousins, he found himself driving in the direction of the office. It was a bad idea, especially after Katniss’s not so subtle brushoff, but he felt like he had to try. It had only been a few days since he had first seen her outside of the office, but already his feelings for her had grown.

And he knew she felt something for him too.

As expected, she was in her office in the empty department, typing away at her computer when he walked in. She jumped when he knocked on the door, but smiled when she saw it was him.

“Look, I know you don’t want to see me,” he said.

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

Great. This was the way she was going to play this.

“Are we just going to pretend nothing happened?” he asked.

“What are you talking about? Are you okay? You seem upset.”

As usual her tone was calm and quiet, although he detected a hint of worry.

“Can we not have this conversation with you on the other side of that desk?”

“Okay,” she said, brow creased as she walked around to where he was standing. “What’s going on?”

“I get that you regret what happened, but--”

She touched his arm. “What are you talking about? I don’t regret anything. I had an amazing time with you.”

“But you think we should pretend it never happened.”

“Why would I want that? I mean, if this is to continue, we’ll have to be discreet, but--”

“Wait.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand. If you want to keep seeing each other, why did you leave?”

“I wasn’t going to let Paige find me in bed with you! And I certainly wasn’t going to insert myself into Christmas morning with your daughter. Didn’t you read my note?”

“You left a note?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t just leave. I left it on the pillow.”

Peeta thought back to Christmas morning, to Paige jumping on the bed. The note must have flown off. It was probably under the bed or behind his nightstand table.

“I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it, and I’m an idiot,” he said. “You really want to give this a try?”

“Yes.”

“Even though it’s a terrible idea and breaks several rules?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I don’t follow every single rule, you know.”

“I can see that. You said the department was closed, and yet here you are.”

“I have a lot of work to get done,” she said.

“I hope you’re planning on taking a half day.”

She bit her lip, the only indication she ever gave that she was unsure.

“Come on. You can come over, and I’ll make lunch. Let’s worry about work tomorrow.”

They walked out of the building together, but separate, their conversation generic and unimportant, their arms glued to their sides. They parted ways at the parking lot and climbed into their respective cars.

Twenty minutes later, she was walking through his front door, his hand on the small of her back.

“Is there any apple pie left?” she asked.

“Pie for lunch? I’ve turned you into a rebel.”

He cut two slices, set them on plates, and scooped vanilla ice cream onto each. When he went into the living room to tell her it was ready, he found her staring at the artwork on the walls once more.

This time, she asked him where they had come from, and when she found out that he had done them, she asked how long he had been drawing, what other kind of art he did.

The questions flooded out of her. He was happy to answer each and every one. He led her upstairs to show her his sketchbooks, and she pored over them, admiring each page, complimenting the ones she liked best. When he ran out of sketchbooks, he kissed her instead, and the afternoon drifted away, the ice cream on their pie melting downstairs.

By the time they returned to the kitchen, it was time for dinner, and Peeta was the happiest he had been in months.

For the first time in a very long time, he believed everything really would be okay. He had his daughter, his friends, and his family on his side, helping him through everything.

And now, he had Katniss too.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #i wrote this #merry christmas

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redditnosleep · 7 years

Text

I Took A Walk For Seven Years

by theoddcatlady

It was August 9, 2010. I was thirty eight years old. My oldest daughter Avis was twelve, and the younger pair, Joanne and John, were nine year old twins. I’d been married for fifteen years. I worked at an insurance firm. And every Sunday, while my wife and Avis went to church and the twins went to my mother’s house, I took a walk.

It was a clockwork sort of arrangement. My wife knew never to push me into going with her, I was an atheist and set on staying that way.

Of course, given what’s happened, my views have changed.

It was just a normal day. Avis gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me to not forget my coat, even if it was an abnormally warm day. I’d say it was maybe sixty five, maybe sixty eight degrees Fahrenheit. My mom picked up the twins. And I started down my walk.

We lived off the beaten path, so to speak. Our road was never busy and most of the area was taken up by farmland. A truck passed me on the road and I waved. I was pretty sure it was Art, although it could’ve been one of his sons on his way to church. Either way, he waved back.

I took a turn to the right onto Hensel. Hensel was a dirt road but it was never travelled except by farmers, and today it was quiet. Good time to collect my thoughts.

Every other time before this, I’d turn back around once I reached Art’s farmhouse, although occasionally his wife would pull me in for lemonade and gossip.

But August 9 would be the day I took the longest walk of my life.

I was passing by the cornfield when I heard laughter. To be more specific, it was a child’s laughter. I paused and looked into the cornfield.

A pair of forest green eyes looked back at me.

The girl looked to be no older than seven, had red hair tied into twin braids, and I assumed she was one of Art’s grandchildren. She smiled broadly.

“Catch me!”

She darted back into the corn and I could hear her giggles slowly fade away.

Normally I would’ve scoffed at going into the field, as I’d have to cross the ditch and I didn’t want to get dirt on my pants. But I felt a little bit of concern, a small child running around the field by herself. So with a jump that I knew my knees would feel in the morning, I jump into the corn field.

Using the sound of her laughter, I started pushing through the corn. The dry leaves scratched at my face and hands, and dust kicked up into my face.

I knew she couldn’t outrun me for long, even if she was a child with boundless energy, I had longer legs.

However, I exited the cornfield in a place I didn’t know.

My house was nowhere to be seen. And there was a light layer of snow covering the ground.

I spun around but the corn was gone, replaced by frosted evergreen trees. The temperature had significantly dropped and I was now thankful that my daughter insisted I bring a coat. I shivered and spun around a few more times, trying to make sense of this dream I’d apparently fallen into and where was that little girl?

“Hey! Mister!”

I finally spun around enough to see her, peering past a branch. She grinned.

“You catch me, I’ll show you the way out!”

That began the chase.

Getting smacked with tree branches was far worse than the corn, the needles tearing at my skin like knives as I pushed past them to find that little girl. Whenever I got lost, I’d hear her laugh. She was having fun. I was not.

The wet snow beneath my feet made it impossible to gain traction, and forget running- I’d slip if I so much as stepped wrong. With every minute I got colder and colder. My teeth chattered so hard my jaw ached.

Then I broke from the treeline into a grassy meadow.

I didn’t expect the change so I ended up toppling over. The grass smelled sweet as honey. A fat bumblebee trundled past my head and landed on a Black Eyed Susan. It was heaven.

But the peace of the meadow was broken by that girl laughing again.

“Awwww, are you already giving up?”

The warm sunlight made her glow, like a tiny angel, but as I stumbled to my feet, I caught something behind those big eyes I hadn’t before.

Malevolence.

She was toying with me and she knew it.

I can’t tell you how many times the environment changed. One minute it’d be across a meadow, then a desert during a sandstorm. I’d have to rely solely on hearing her in places like that. Sometimes we’d be back in the cornfield, and I’d shout for Art to get me out of here but no help ever came. Sometimes we’d be running across barren tundra, where she’d be just out of my grasp.

She wasn’t always a little girl either. Sometimes she was a young teen, with a gap between her teeth and who’d hum sweet tunes. Sometimes she was a ravishing model of her early twenties, with fiery hair and a flirtatious grin. And the times she wasn’t any of those, she was an ancient crone, with a bent back and arthritic hands that clutched to her cane but still managed to hobble away from me.

She called herself Clarice occasionally. Other times it was Lolita, Dixie, Isabella, Hope… I lost count of her names too. A straight answer was impossible. She’d never lie to me though, just avoid answering any of the questions I’d ask her.

So I knew she was my key out of there.

It was in the meadow where I finally got her.

She was a little girl again, and her taunting was beyond cruel this time. She’d stop, pick flowers, and run on before I could grab her. She’d throw the flowers about and sing ridiculous nonsense songs and I knew I couldn’t ever win like this.

So I dropped to the ground.

The little girl stopped.

“Oh, are you really giving up now? You’re sooooo close!”

Nothing. I remained still as I gasped for breath.

I heard her get closer and closer.

“Mister? Are you okay? Do you need a break? You’ve been going on a really loooong time…”

Once I saw her shadow I lunged.

She almost got away but my hand wrapped around her braid and I pulled her back so hard I could’ve snapped her neck. I embraced her in my arms and breathed out, “I got you.”

I’d never felt so successful in my entire life. I’d finally gotten her.

She turned around and smiled sadly.

“Can we play again? We were having fun. You don’t have to go back, we can stay here.”

No way. I was done with this. “Nope. You let me out of here right now or I’m strangling you with your own braids.” A little dramatic, perhaps, but I gripped tighter onto her hair to make clear my point.

She sighed before she kissed my cheek. The same place Avis did before church.

“Okay.”

When I woke up, I was in the middle of the plowed cornfield.

It was spring time, the ground was churned to mud and the water freezing cold. I peeled myself off the ground and began stumbling home.

It was then I noticed how tired I truly was. My mouth was parched as the deserts I ran through. My body was stiff and ached like I’d run a thousand miles, and there was a chance I had. I had one goal in mind though, and that was home. I could finally go home.

Despite tripping through the mud a dozen times, I caught sight of my house and immediately began to cry. Barely able to move, I just pointed myself to the backyard. My wife should be home about now. She’d see me and come to my aid.

Two teenage boys were on the back porch, one was smoking while the other was playing on his phone. I couldn’t recognize either of them. Had my family moved? I raised my hand and attempted to speak, but it came out as a raspy moan.

Both boys jumped out of their skin, the one smoking dropping his cigarette and they backed off. The shorter one raised a hand. “Sir, you’re gonna have to…” He trailed off and his eyes widened.

The eyes that looked exactly like my wife’s.

“… Dad?!”

I passed out on the ground, just a few steps from the back door.

I woke up in the hospital. I’d been cleaned up, had an IV running into my arm, and a woman was sitting next to my bed. Fast asleep. With a tattoo of a bird on her neck. A sparrow, to be exact.

Avis always loved her sparrows.

I’d been gone for a little over seven years. When I didn’t return from my walk, my wife reported me missing. At first law enforcement assumed I’d just ran off with another woman, but when that line of investigation went dry, they realized I’d been the victim of foul play.

Search parties were made. People were questioned. No one was imprisoned. They never found me. And life marched on.

Art apparently died about a year after I went missing. Stroke. The farm went to his sons, who ended up selling the whole property to another family. A family who stayed oblivious to the fact that was the place I was last spotted.

The boys on the back porch were in fact my boys. I just hadn’t been around when Joanne announced he was now James, at the age of thirteen. I wish I could’ve been there to help him become a man.

I apparently had a good replacement though.

After four years and it looked like I was gone for good, my wife met someone new. His name’s Clark. They’d gotten married six months after they met. Clark was a real outdoorsman, hunter, fisherman, and loved to go camping. As I chased a fairy child through her playground, he was taking James and John out on trips every weekend and putting away money to help James afford his surgeries and the like. Clark had two kids of his own, and I was soon a memory in this house. They could survive without me.

Avis was the only one who hadn’t given up on me. She pursued every lead. Every dead end. Every chance that I could be there, she was chasing it. Stubborn girl. My girl. But she’d grown from a girl to a woman since I’d been gone, and it was like talking to a stranger. A strange who had my chin and nose, but a stranger nonetheless.

My wife did want to help me adjust though, and kindly offered the guest bedroom for me while I recovered. I’d apparently been through hell, bones were broken and healed, muscles torn and strained beyond their limits. I was malnourished and could barely stand without my walker, and I just had nowhere to go.

It was not a place I could stay though.

Clark’s kids looked at me like I was some bogeyman that lived down the hall. Clark and I tried to be polite to each other but things became tense as my now ex-wife was struggling whether or not she should officially put down on paper who she would divorce.

I was just in the way.

But the little girl wasn’t gone.

Nightly I’d see her outside my window. She’d peer in, with those big eyes, and mouth the words,

“Come with me.”

I’ve told my wife I’m just going out for a walk.

#creepy #horror story #lost time #author: theoddcatlady

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 4 years

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24th November >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Luke 21:5-11 for Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time: ‘Everything will be destroyed’.

Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except USA)

Luke 21:5-11

The destruction of the Temple foretold

When some were talking about the Temple, remarking how it was adorned with fine stonework and votive offerings, Jesus said, ‘All these things you are staring at now – the time will come when not a single stone will be left on another: everything will be destroyed.’ And they put to him this question: ‘Master,’ they said ‘when will this happen, then, and what sign will there be that this is about to take place?’ ‘Take care not to be deceived,’ he said ‘because many will come using my name and saying, “I am he” and, “The time is near at hand.” Refuse to join them. And when you hear of wars and revolutions, do not be frightened, for this is something that must happen but the end is not so soon.’ Then he said to them, ‘Nation will fight against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be great earthquakes and plagues and famines here and there; there will be fearful sights and great signs from heaven.’

Gospel (USA)

Luke 21:5-11

There will not be left a stone upon another stone.

While some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings, Jesus said, “All that you see here– the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down.” Then they asked him, “Teacher, when will this happen? And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?” He answered, “See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am he,’ and ‘The time has come.’ Do not follow them! When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end.” Then he said to them, “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place; and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky.”

Reflections (8)

(i) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

In the time of Jesus, the Temple in Jerusalem was considered to be one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It is not surprising to find Jesus’ disciples at the beginning of the gospel reading remarking on how it was adorned with fine stonework. It must have seemed to them that the Temple would last forever. We can imagine their shock when Jesus said to them, ‘the time will come when not a single stone will be left on another; everything will be destroyed’. People must have wondered how God could allow this holy place associated with his presence to be destroyed. How could God survive its destruction? Yet, when the Temple was destroyed forty years later, God continued to work powerfully in the world, through the Jewish community and through the emerging church which came from the Jewish community. We are being reminded that even when so much of what would be considered important to God is destroyed, God endures. God’s work on behalf of humanity is never destroyed. Even as his Son was being crucified, God was working powerfully to touch the lives of all men and women with his love. God will always bring new life out of death, new growth out of loss. God is always doing a new thing. That is worth remembering in these Covid days when we seem to be losing so much that is important to the life of faith.

And/Or

(ii) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

In the time of Jesus the Temple in Jerusalem that was built by King Herod the Great was considered one of the seven wonders of the world. In the gospel reading this morning the disciples of Jesus, looking across at it from the Mount of Olives, talk among themselves about what a wonderful building the Temple is. Jesus, however, foresees a time when the Temple will no longer be present. As he says, ‘everything will be destroyed’. His words came to pass forty years later when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and its Temple, in putting down the Jewish revolt against Rome. The statement ‘everything will be destroyed’ must have been difficult for the disciples to hear. It is difficult for us to hear today. We can be tempted to ask, ‘Where is the good news in that statement?’ ‘How does it qualify as gospel?’ In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul expresses what Jesus states in a slightly different way, ‘The present form of this world is passing away’. On that basis Paul calls on the church in Corinth not to become overly absorbed in the things of this world. Rather, Paul would say, we are to absorb ourselves in the one who will never pass away, the Lord. If our relationship with the Lord, the one who never passes away, is central to our lives, then our relationship with the present form of the world which is destined to pass away will find its proper level. The Lord comes first for us; everything else is secondary, including the wonderful buildings that have been built in his honour. Even when these were to pass away, the Lord will endure, and that is good news.

And/Or

(iii) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

As we approach the end of the liturgical year, the readings which the church puts before us tend to focus on the darker side of human experience, the experience of destruction, of loss, of conflict, of deception. It is as if the liturgy is in harmony with the dark days of the end of the month of November. When we begin the new liturgical year next Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent, the days remain dark, but the liturgical readings take on a much brighter hue as we begin to light our Advent wreath and we are invited to look forward to the coming of the light. In this morning’s readings, however, the theme of destruction and loss is very much to the fore. Jesus speaks of the destruction of the wonderful Temple in Jerusalem, as well as of other dark events within the human family and nature. No one looking at the temple in Jerusalem in Jesus’ day could ever have imagined it being destroyed. After all it had taken nearly fifty years to build, and it wasn’t quite finished in the time of Jesus. Yet, even the strongest and finest buildings only last so long. Today’s gospel reading calls on us not to get too attached to what does not endure. Instead, we are to attach ourselves to the one who says of himself in one of the gospels that ‘something greater than the Temple is here’. When all else fails and disappears, the Lord endures. He is the beginning and the end, the Alpha and Omega. His enduring presence, his faithfulness to us, gives us assurance in the midst of disconcerting change and loss.

And/Or

(iv) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

We are in the last week of the church’s year and the readings for this time just before Advent can often have a dark tone to them. This morning’s readings are typical in that respect. In the gospel reading Jesus speaks about the eventual destruction of the Temple, which was considered to be one of the seven wonders of the world at the time. No one, no Jew certainly, could have envisaged its destruction. Indeed, the building of this magnificent Temple had been started about forty years earlier by King Herod the Great and it wasn’t even complete by the time of Jesus. It was like one of those Medieval Cathedrals that took several generations to be completed. The Temple for the Jews was far and away the most important religious building they possessed; it was the focal point of their worship of God. It would not have been possible to conceive of a religious life without the Temple. Yet, God’s purpose for his people, Israel, and for all of humanity, would not be deflected by the destruction of the Temple. God’s loving purpose for humanity is more enduring than any building or any institution. In these days when we are very conscious of loss within our own Christian and Catholic tradition we need to remind ourselves that God’s purpose for his world is at it always was and that God is always working in new ways through his Son and through the Holy Spirit to bring that purpose to pass.

And/Or

(v) Tuesday, Thirty fourth Week in Ordinary Time

As the curtain comes down on the liturgical year, the liturgical readings tend to highlight the reality of endings, of things coming to an end.In the gospel reading this morning, Jesus announces the ending of the Temple in Jerusalem. This was a magnificent building; it took eighty years to complete. It dominated the city of Jerusalem. It must have seemed as if it would last forever. Yet, forty years after Jesus was crucified, it was destroyed by the Roman army. It was a tremendous loss for the Jewish people. We all have to deal with endings and losses of one kind or another. Sometimes such experiences of ending and loss can be traumatic for us, as traumatic as the destruction of the Temple and everything that went with it was for the people of Israel. When we experience some traumatic loss or ending, we can even wonder whether our own life is at an end, whether we ourselves are now lost. In such situations we need an anchor, something that doesn’t change. That anchor is the Lord. The Book of Revelation from which we are reading these mornings speaks of the Lord as the one who was, who is and who is to come. In the midst of all our losses we know that the Lord endures and that his relationship with us never comes to an end. The Lord can be relied upon when all else fails, and he is always at work bringing new life out of our experiences of loss.

And/Or

(vi) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

As the curtain comes down on the liturgical year, the liturgical readings tend to highlight the reality of endings, of things coming to an end.In the gospel reading this morning, Jesus announces the ending of the Temple in Jerusalem. This was a magnificent building; it took eighty years to complete it. It dominated the city of Jerusalem. It must have seemed as if it would last forever. Yet, forty years after Jesus was crucified, it was destroyed by the Roman army. It was a tremendous loss for the Jewish people. We all have to deal with endings and loss of one kind or another. Sometimes such experiences of ending and loss can be traumatic for us. We can even wonder if our own life is at an end, if we ourselves are lost. The first reading, however, speaks of a kingdom that will last forever, that will never end, never be destroyed. This is the kingdom of God. In the midst of all our losses we know that God endures and God’s relationship with us never comes to an end. God can be relied upon when all else fails and God will see to it that in the midst of all our losses we ourselves will not be lost.

And/Or

(vii) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

This is the final week of the church’s year. Next Sunday is the first Sunday of Advent, the beginning of a new church year. In this last week of the church’s year the gospel reading this morning has to do with endings, in particular the ending, the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. The disciples expressed amazement at the sight of the Temple; it was considered to be one of the seven wonders of the world at the time. Yet, Jesus announces that a time will come when not a single stone of it will be left on another. It must have been impossible for people to conceive of that ever happening. Yet, in the history of the world so much has passed away that people thought would be around forever. Even in recent times so much has fallen that seemed impregnable. We are left asking, ‘Will anything endure?’ A few verses beyond where this morning’s gospel finishes Jesus says, ‘Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away’. The words of Jesus and the values they express will endure; the one who proclaims those words, the Word made flesh, will endure. When all else fails, the Lord will be there. His relationship with us endures, even when our relationship with him grows weak, as Paul says in one of his letters, ‘if we are faithless, he remains faithful’.

And/Or

(viii) Tuesday, Thirty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

This is the last week of the church’s liturgical. As we come to the end of the liturgical year, the gospel reading today speaks about endings. In particular, Jesus announces the end of the Temple in Jerusalem. ‘Everything will be destroyed’, he says. The Temple was one of the seven wonders of the world at the time. It had taken nearly sixty years to build and it was still not quite complete at the time of Jesus. It must have seemed incredible that it could be destroyed. Yet, this is what happened in the year 70, forty years after the death and resurrection of Jesus, when the Roman army under the command of the future emperor Titus raised the Temple and the city of Jerusalem to the ground. In the Roman Forum today, there is still to be seen on the Arch of Titus a depiction of Titus’ victory procession in Rome with the seven branched candlestick of the Temple being carried aloft. There is so much that looks permanent that is not destined to last. That is as true of today as it was of Jesus’ day. The Book of Revelation from which we are reading these days portrays God alone as the one who is destined to last. He is the one ‘who is and who was and who is to come’. The author would say the same of Jesus, God’s Son. When all else fails, the Lord God endures. In one of his letters, Saint Paul speaks of another reality that lasts, ‘Love never ends’ and Saint John in one of his letters declares that ‘God is Love’. God’s love is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow, and therein lies our assurance in the midst of so much else that passes away.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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malecsecretsanta · 7 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @thepinescentedair!

Because the world will never have enough coffee shop AUs, amirite?

Read on AO3

*****

But first, coffee

The morning rush is starting to die down and Alec can finally catch his breath. He’s made a dozen blended beverages in the last half hour alone, despite the frost on the widow, and Alec is glad for the chance to warm his hands in the sink. It’s too early for this.

The door chimes and Alec resigns himself to another three hours of his best customer service face. It's not something he's particularly good at, if he's entirely honest.

“Oh, hello,” the customer says. He’s unashamed in the way he eyes Alec up and down and Alec can’t deny he likes the way the man’s suit clings to his body. He’s not wearing a coat and his cheeks are a little rosy. “You’re not usually here in the mornings, are you?”

“Nope,” Alec says. He unlocks the register and waits patiently. “Order when you’re ready.”

“Succent,” the customer says. He quirks an eyebrow and grins at Alec, before handing over his own insulated mug. It’s at least twenty ounces, which is fairly regular, but there are cartoon cats printed all over the stainless steel. “Can I get an upside down coconut milk caramel macchiato to go?”

“If you want a cavity,” Alec says as he accepts the mug. He hears Jace laugh from the kitchen. He won’t tell on Alec for the way he talks to customers, not when he’s just as cheeky.

“I’d much rather get your name and number,” the customer says. His tone oozes confidence and his smile is almost infectious it’s so charming. If it wasn’t so early in the morning, Alec might even fall for it.

Instead, he taps the nametag on his shirt. “Name for your order?”

“Magnus,” he says. “Is Alec short for anything?”

“Alexander,” Jace calls helpfully. He pokes his head out into the main room and eyes Magnus. “You’re not going to flirt your way into free coffee with him, Magnus. And I’ll tell Will you’re hitting on his baristas again.”

“I never hit on Jem,” Magnus says, indignantly. “Just because I never flirt with you doesn’t mean I flirt with everyone else. Except for you of course, Alexander.” His fingers curl around Alec’s when he hands over a ten dollar bill in payment and Alec fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“This is why I don’t take the morning shift,” Alec tells Jace. “You’re too peppy this early in the morning.”

“The secret is not going to bed the night before,” Jace says earnestly.

“It’ll just be a minute for your drink,” Alec says to Magnus. He’s careful to avoid skin on skin contact when he drops the coins into Magnus’ palm, but theirs fingers brush as he counts back the bills. They don’t break eye contact as Magnus drops it all in the tip jar.

“Take all the time you need,” Magnus says with an over exaggerated wink.

ii.

Alec spends what feels like almost an eternity waiting on a gaggle of high school girls to decide what they want to order, though it probably takes closer to five minutes. It backs the line up to the door and Alec is tempted to kick them out of line until they’re ready to order when they all finally decide on variations of the same thing.

Jem is working the line, quiet and efficient, and Alec has never known him to mess up an order. His eyes roll when he sees the skinny lattes with extra whip and Alec knows exactly how he feels.

The bell chimes and Alec looks up to count how many more people joined the queue, but it’s just Magnus. Wearing skinny jeans and a dark flannel and seemingly immune to the fact that it’s below freezing outside. Not that Alec notices.

“Waking up or staying up?” Jem calls out to Magnus, when he finally makes it to the counter.

“Oh, you know me,” Magnus says. “Club closes at two, I’m not out of there until three, but for some reason most of society wants to start the day at seven…”

“Sounds like me during finals week,” Alec says, casually. Thankfully, it’s his last year of it, unless he decides to go to grad school. Which he probably will. Anything to avoid having to actually work with people in the long run.

“What are you studying?” Magnus asks.

“Business, mostly,” Alec says. Not entirely by choice, but he’s not the one footing the bills. “Though I’m taking this class on Colonialism that’s pretty interesting.”

“Sounds like it,” Magnus says, though he seems more amused than anything else. “If you give me your number, maybe I can help you study?”

“More like if I give you my number, I’ll get booty call notices at three in the morning when you get off work,” Alec says.

“Only if you’re open to it,” Magnus says. He offers Alec an insulated mug, with a glittery bee wearing a crown on it. “Sea salt caramel white mocha with coconut milk.”

“You literally just picked a punch of words off the menu,” Alec says. He takes the cup and punches in the order into the register, passing the ticket and the cup to Jem. “That’s going to taste awful.”

“I’ll let you taste it if you don’t mind swapping spit,” Magnus says.

“You’re officially extra,” Alec says. “I’m gonna have to charge you for that.”

“But you didn’t say no,” Magnus points out.

Alec hates himself a little for it, but Magnus technically does have a point. “I hope you enjoy your teeth rotting out.”

“I do so love coming in and see your beautiful face in the morning,” Magnus says.

“Then you will love what my face looks like when I’ve actually had more than three hours of sleep,” Alec says. Almost immediately, he regrets saying it, but then Magnus laughs and Alec really kind of likes the sound of that. “That wasn’t an invitation!”

“Haven’t even gone on a date and you’re already inviting me into your bed,” Magnus says and Alec actually feels his cheeks flush.

“Leave him alone, Magnus,” Jem says. “It’s hard to find competent help this early in the morning.”

“You’re no fun,” Magnus says, and Alec almost agrees.

iii.

The sun has long since gone down for the night and Alec is tidying up the sitting area as much as he can before they close shop. They’ll get one last rush in the next few minutes, but thankfully they won’t linger. Not on a Sunday evening.

The door chimes and Alec automatically calls out a greeting. It’s Magnus, because it always seems to be Magnus, and Alec’s heart races in his chest. He shouldn’t be this emotionally invested in a guy he barely knows, but Alec is starting to look forward to when Magnus comes by.

Tonight, he’s dressed for clubbing. His jeans are tight and his boots look expensive and Alec wants to tangle his fingers in Magnus’ artfully tousled hair. He’s got eyeliner on and Alec actually feels kind of weak in the knees. It’s a sign he needs a drink or to get laid or maybe both.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, pleased. “I was disappointed you weren’t in this morning.”

“I was just covering Will’s shifts these last few weeks,” Alec says. He’s technically Alec’s manager, though there is no real formality in the coffee shop. They’re all basically family anyway. “Jace thinks he’s faking his pneumonia.”

“Well, I suppose it’s good he’s feeling better,” Magnus says. He moves slowly, giving Alec every chance to back away from his advance, before touching his elbow. “I do hope you don’t think I’m coming on too strongly. I enjoy seeing you but I understand you are under a sense of obligation to be polite.”

“If I didn’t like the way you were treating me, you would know,” Alec says. “And Will doesn’t give a shit how we treat belligerent customers, as long as he doesn’t get sued in the long run.”

“I assume that’s mostly Jem’s influence on the shop,” Magnus says, and he’s probably not wrong. “Have you worked here long?”

“A few months. Mostly night shifts,” Alec says. He glances at the clock and steps away from Magnus to toss his dirty rag into the sink on the other side of the bar. “Jace and I were roommates in prep school. He told me his cousin was hiring, I didn’t think being a barista would be that bad. It’s not, for the most part.”

“Well, if you want to get out of the coffee scene, I can get you the hook up at my bar,” Magnus says.

“Your bar,” Alec deadpans. “As in you own it? Are you offering to be my sugar daddy?”

“I wouldn’t make you work if you were going to be my sugar baby,” Magnus says. “And yes. Pandemonium. You’ve probably heard of it. I’m actually on my way there now, if you want to join me.”

“My sister likes to dance there,” Alec says, nodding. He’s almost regretful that he’s going to have to turn Magnus down, but he still has another hour and a half on his shift. “What ridiculous drink can I get you tonight?”

Magnus taps his chin thoughtfully and Alec is distracted by the rings on his long fingers. He holds out a travel mug covered in gold glitter and says, “Creme brulee praline latte. Iced, with almond milk. That sounds fun.”

“That sounds like a sugar coma,” Alec corrects, but he takes Magnus’ cup and lets his fingers linger on Magnus’ own.

iv.

It’s a slow night and Jem doesn’t object to Alec spreading his textbook out on the counting counter and reading in between customers. It’s only a few weeks until the semester is over, and he doesn’t feel as prepared as he would like to be.

The door chimes and Alec looks up to see Tessa and Magnus laughing together. The rational part of his brain knows Tessa has a weird thing with both Jem and Will, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling a little jealous. He has no right to be jealous. He doesn’t even know if Magnus’ attentions are genuine or if he flirts with everyone he meets.

“Store is closed,” Will deadpans from where he’s reading in the corner. “We don’t sell coffee to traitors who go to weird art nouveau shows in Manhattan instead of staying home for leftover night.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I want a cup of tea then,” Tessa says. She sticks her tongue out and Will pouts at her. It’s like they’re in their own little world and Alec doesn’t mind.

“Ah, to be in love,” Magnus says. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to spend so much time with a single person?”

“Maybe it’s easier when you’re poly,” Alec says. He holds his hand out for Magnus’ reusable cup, and he turns it over in his hand to read it. “World’s Best Cat Mom?”

“The world is heteronormative,” Magnus says with a shrug. “I’m not. Wanna see a picture? If you give me your number I can text it to you.”

Alec laughs and shakes his head. He unlocks the register and starts tapping at the screen. “What gross monstrosity do you want tonight?”

“Pumpkin spice latte with a pump of caramel and sea salt on top,” Magnus says, pulling out his wallet and searching for a card. “I need to get the taste of bad caviar off my tongue.”

“I’ve heard pineapple juice makes the taste less salty,” Alec says. He swipes Magnus’ black card and hands it back to him.

“Do you wanna test that theory? You can come out with me, I’ll get a Pina Colada, you can get a Hawaiian Stone Sour…” Magnus says.

“You would be into mixed drinks,” Alec says, shaking his head and laughing. He’s almost tempted, but he really needs to study. Besides, he’s still got time left on his shift tonight.

“Anyone who hates mixed drinks is lying to themselves,” Magnus says. “You enjoy your Whiskey on the Rocks and I’ll enjoy my Sex on the Beach.”

“If you’re drinking by yourself, is it Sex on the Beach, or masturbation?” Alec asks.

“Alexander,” Magnus says with mock indignation, “are you flirting with me?”

“I just want the tip,” Alec deadpans, and Magnus laughs. It’s a struggle to keep the grin off his face but he can’t stop the way his cheeks warm at the sound.

Holiday shopping season is in full swing and the shop is bursting with activity. The normal lulls are nonexistent with school being out for a few weeks and Alec is glad his last final was this morning because he feels dead on his feet. He would murder for a massage right now.

He’s traded places with Jace, working the line while Jace takes orders, and it gets him away from the yuppie moms who think shopping small will change their karma for the year. If he gets yelled at one more time for being out of peppermint syrup a week before Christmas, he might actually punch someone.

“Your boyfriend is here,” Jace says, and Alec snaps out of his reverie to see Magnus waving at him from the back of the line.

For once, Magnus is wearing a peacoat to keep the cold at bay and Alec wants nothing more than to wrap himself up in the warmth and disappear. Take me with you , he thinks, but his throat is too dry to form the words. It doesn’t occur to him to correct Jace.

“You look miserable, darling,” Magnus says when he makes his way to the counter. His drink is the weekend special - brown sugar caramel shortbread as a blended drink - and his cup says when you play for both teams you never lose in pink and purple and blue.

“I need a stiff drink,” Alec says. He fills Magnus’ cup to the brim with whip and adds extra caramel drizzle. “Lets just say, I’m ready to sleep until next semester.”

“Well, if you need a nightcap after you get off tonight…” There’s a double entendre hanging there and Alec is so tempted to take Magnus up on it. He feels like they’ve been playing this game for weeks and he doesn’t know how much longer they’ll go at it before Magnus gets bored.

“You tired of getting Blue Balls alone in your bar?” Alec asks. His tone is low, mindful of the teeneagers chattering a few feet away, and it makes it feel more intimate somehow. “You look like you enjoy some coconut rum every now and then.”

“Did you google mixed drinks just to flirt with me?” Magnus asks. “Because I’m very impressed if you did.”

“Alec,” Jace says. He’s got two more tickets he’s started on, but there’s still a customer waiting to order. He doesn’t sound pressed, not yet, but Alec knows Jace will nag him if he slacks off too much. Like Jace isn't the king of shirking duties himself.

Alec tugs a napkin out of the stack and jots his number down quickly before he all but shoves it into Magnus’ waiting palm. “If you’re lucky, I’ll get off by ten. I’m out of work at six though.”

For once, it’s Magnus’ turn to be caught off guard.

vi.

Magnus’ apartment is everything Alec expected it to be. Cultured and classy, random things on display but everything tucked away neatly. His cat greets them at the door, meowing loudly for attention before being silenced by a bowl of homemade cat food.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the club?” Magnus asks. His hand is warm on the small of Alec’s back as he guides him to the living room. There’s an amazing view from his window, Alec is sure, but he’s distracted by how close Magnus is. They’ve never really had the chance to be this close before.

“I’m not easy,” Alec says. He pushes Magnus back onto his couch and straddles his lap. He likes that Magnus is letting him set the pace, content to go and do whatever Alec wants. “Just, for the record. I like going to dinner and going out. Pizza. Movies. Coffee. I’m not good at it, but I like it.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Magnus says. He rests his hands on Alec’s hips when Alec’s find his shoulders and their first kiss is every bit as sweet as he thought it would be. Magnus doesn’t taste anything like the ridiculous coffee drink he ordered earlier, but still just as addictive.

“I don’t put out on the first date,” Alec says, in between kisses. Magnus’ hair is every bit as soft as it looks and he likes the soft scrape of his stubble against Alec’s owns. Magnus' grip is surprisingly tight and Alec feels both weak and empowered. “But technically this isn’t a date?”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Magnus says. His lips catch Alec’s chin, the curve of his jaw, and his Adam’s Apple in a flurry of delicate kisses. He presses up against Alec as he drags him close and Alec thinks they both know exactly where this is going.

They don’t make it to the bedroom before they end up naked and tangled together. Magnus looks every bit as gorgeous as he does undressed as he does in his skinny jeans or form fitting suits and Alec wants to touch every bit of him. His biceps are surprisingly thick and his abs quiver under Alec’s desperate kisses.

Magnus comes on Alec’s tongue long before Alec is ready for it to be over. Alec comes all over Magnus’ fingers almost as soon as Magnus takes him in hand. It’s oddly perfect.

After, when they’re tangled in a blanket on the floor in front of the couch, Alec props his chin on Magnus’ chest and huffs at him. “Are you going to kick me out, or can we make it for a round two if we make it to the bedroom?”

Magnus’ fingers trace delicate patterns on the back of Alec’s neck and his laugh is beautiful. “If you feel like spending the night, I can recommend this great little coffee shop downtown.”

“Mmh,” Alec says. He closes his eyes and loses himself in Magnus’ gentle touches. “Americano, extra espresso. Black.”

“And you think my coffee taste is disgusting,” Magnus says. He kisses Alec’s sweaty hair before dropping his head back onto the carpet. He swats at Alec’s ass playfully and Alec laughs. “I think I can manage that.”

#thepinescentedair #malecsanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

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