#just scrolled past an article about how small towns of all white people would rather risk environmental disaster

[crwatters]

.

[never-sated]

Four years ago, after Hillary Clinton lost the 2016 election to Donald Trump, one of the most brutal conversations I had was with my then-11-year-old son, who had grown up imagining that the world looked a certain way and discovered overnight that it did not. He was worried that he might someday have to defend children at his school from racists and bigots in the schoolyard, and he feared he wasn’t up to the task. His words at the time broke my heart. He said something like, “I know myself. I’m never gonna be the No. 1 guy to step in. If someone else steps up, I could be the No. 2 guy. But I don’t think I could stop it myself.” We talked a lot in the weeks after about bystander intervention, about being the chip guy on the subway (he just ate chips until a violent situation was defused), and about the beautiful words Mary Beth Tinker once shared with me, about how terrified she was when she wore a black armband to school to protest the Vietnam War. She was the one who explained how sometimes you only have to be “a little bit brave.” 

When I scroll through social media today, I am gripped by the same fears—of violence and unchecked power—that have made it nearly impossible to exhale for the past few months, perhaps years. I cannot predict what this day, this week, will bring. But what humbles and amazes me is the civic courage I’m seeing, the flexed muscles of so many ordinary people who never believed, in 2016, that they would survive this, much less find courage to step in if they were called upon to do so. 

Thousands of people phoned strangers in Philadelphia on Monday to urge them to vote. Some of them never thought they were capable of such a thing. My friends who marched in D.C. just last week to protest the Amy Coney Barrett confirmation were fanned out across the country knocking on doors Monday. My friend Mark is poll watching today in an East Philadelphia precinct that has received credible threats from white supremacists. When I scroll through social media these days, I genuinely don’t recognize some of the skinny First Amendment scholars I knew over a decade ago. They are now suited up to monitor and protect and intervene in the tense circumstances to come. I look at my journalist friends, who have come to treat death threats and bomb threats as the cost of doing business, and at how many of them have written and spoken and fought at their personal and professional peril in these dark times. I see people who have gone from citizens to activists to inspirational T-shirts, from historians and local voting rights activists to someone else’s only hope. 

Doctors and nurses and orderlies and teachers. Transportation workers, election workers, and factory workers. None of these people thought they would have to do what they now do every single day. But those muscles and callouses and scars are now part of who they have become. I am looking around at the feeds of folks who never in a million years would have thought of themselves as protesters, marchers, organizers, passive resistors, civil rights attorneys, poll monitors during a pandemic, and I wonder if they see what I saw this morning: that whatever this wretched four years has broken, it has also built so many different kinds of brave, such a thick and rich kind of civic power. It’s the kind of brave that will have people standing in lines for hours, the kind of brave that will have them voting in the face of closed polling places and burdensome ID requirements and even threats of harassment. It’s the kind of brave some people have been doing for a long, long time but a lot of other people knew little about.           

I was reminded this morning of Justice Antonin Scalia, in an oral argument in the 2010 case Doe v. Reed. Opponents of marriage equality were challenging Washington state’s practice of publishing the signatures on petitions for a ballot referendum, as part of their public records laws. They wanted the right to try to deny marriage equity, and to do so anonymously. Some of the court’s conservatives suggested that publishing the names of signatories of a petition put them in danger of harassment and threats. Justice Samuel Alito fretted about religious affiliations being published and people storming others’ homes seeking “uncomfortable conversations.” But it was Scalia, tag-teaming with Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who insisted that much as we might wish otherwise, “The fact is that running a democracy takes a certain amount of civic courage.” He went on to point out, rather presciently, that “the First Amendment does not protect you from criticism or even nasty phone calls when you exercise your political rights to legislate, or to take part in the legislative process.” He went on, more or less shouting that “you know, you can’t run a democracy this way, with everybody being afraid of having his political positions known!” And—no surprises—Ginsburg had his back throughout. At the time, it was all very hypothetical, but in the years since we’ve heard these arguments, GOP groups have hidden their donor lists under this same theory of protecting themselves from public criticism, while doing immense damage to the institutions of democracy, and more recently to the institution of voting itself. The “civic courage” for which Scalia advocated that day is today apparent in the people who realize that political silence is not a marker of “politeness” but instead can be a hallmark of complicity.

Strapping on a semi-automatic weapon and terrorizing voters isn’t bravery any more than invading a small college town with flaming torches is bravery. Tweeting encouragement for the jailing, kidnapping, and assault of your political opponents isn’t bravery, just as deriding the military while dodging the draft is not courage. Being a bully requires neither courage nor conviction, just the knowledge that you will be protected in your abuse of those who are powerless. But for the millions of Americans who have marched and organized, who have been arrested for the first time, who have knocked on the doors of strangers, who have made the art of the resistance and baked cookies for the resistance, and ended friendships, and stood up to trolls, and explained hellish truths to their kids, and who are still today—as the president incites his bullies—doing the kinds of things they would never have imagined themselves doing, well there is a name for all this activity: It is civic courage, and without it, there would only be bullies to occupy the field. 

I have no idea what comes next. I have no illusions that electoral victories will change fundamentally broken systems of power and money and gender and race. This will require decades of work to repair. But take a moment, in the maelstrom of today, to gently thank someone you’ve watched become just a “little bit brave” over these past four years. You may not recognize it in yourselves, but you will surely see it in those around you. And as the person who has penned a dozen “_____ Is Not Going to Save Us,” articles—about the Bob Muellers, and Adam Schiffs and even the Justice Ginsburgs—know that today I see the chip guys all around. You are the chip guys you had hoped to see in the world. I hope you see it too.

[carmenlire]

Off the Record Chapter IV

read chapter one

read on ao3

Looking up at the knock on his office door, Alec raises a brow at this floor’s administrative assistant.

“What’s up?”

Maia steps into his office and it’s then that he notices the garment bag slung over her shoulder. “Special delivery from a courtier downstairs. I was told to give this to you immediately.”

Taking the bag, she hangs it up on a hook on the back of his door. Looking over her shoulder, she adds, “Are you ready for tonight?”

Alec looks back at his computer at his half-finished email to CNN’s publicist informing him of his next assignment that will start in two days. Most of his mind’s still on that whenever he replies, “Of course. It’s a press dinner. I’ve been to a million of these things. It’s a few hours of reviewing the biggest stories of the past year while waiters in white tie serve lukewarm chicken and undercooked carrots.”

He’s rewarded with Maia cracking a smile that’s more of a grin as she dryly offers, “No need to sound so excited, Lightwood. Aren’t you up for an award?”

Leaning back in his chair, Alec nods. “Yeah,” he confirms. “There are a lot of other great journalists covering a lot of important topics too, though. Competition is stiff.” He flashes a self-deprecating grin. “Better to keep my expectations low.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” She jerks her head to the nondescript garment bag. “A Magnus Bane original, though? That’s something worth celebrating.”

Alec doesn’t say anything, merely sends her a blank look. Maia rolls her eyes before shrugging defensively.

“What,” she asks. “I might’ve taken a peak inside. It's very classic for Bane.”

“Iz made an appointment with him. I liked him. He was very professional,” Alec says, almost to himself.

Taking a step or two back until she can lean her shoulder against the door jamb, Maia crosses her arms over her front as she replies, “I’ve heard that he’s pretty no nonsense. Everyone respects him and most fear him, at least a little. Did you know he started his company in high school? He was a millionaire by the time he graduated fashion design school.”

“I didn’t peg you as someone who kept up with that kind of thing.”

Maia shrugs. “What can I say? Bane’s cute and he’s built his empire from nothing. It’s attractive, all that passion and drive. So, I might skim the occasional article about him in People Magazine.”

“We all have our guilty pleasures.”

Glaring at him--though with little heat-- Maia turns on her heel and leaves Alec’s office. Thankful that the interruption is over, Alec turns back to his computer and looks over his proposed itinerary. He’ll be going to China for a few weeks. Part of his assignment is a character profile on the President, Xi Jinping, but he’ll also be reporting about a variety of problems coming out of China, including the Hong Kong protests and their increasing tensions with Russia.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary and Alec feels a familiar tension seep into his shoulders. He loves what he does but goddamn if it isn’t stressful. No matter how many times he puts himself in untenable positions, there’s always a little voice in his head that whispers that this is the last time, this is his last chance.

Still, Alec finds himself preoccupied this afternoon. He has to start getting ready for the awards ceremony in a couple of hours and he’d wanted to get as much work done as possible before then. Instead, he finds his eyes drawn to the garment back hanging on his door.

Telling himself that he’ll just take a peak at the finished product-- make sure that Magnus delivered what he ordered-- Alec stands and tosses the pen he’d been holding in a negligent grip onto his crowded desk. Taking the few steps over to the suit, Alec unzips the bag and takes a cursory look at the clothing.

It’s a lot of black.

Alec laughs a little as he shuts the door and takes the suit out. He sweeps a thumb over the front of the black linen jacket, along the silk stripe down the pant leg. Deciding to make sure it fits alright now instead of fifteen minutes before he’s set to leave, Alec quickly undresses and puts on the suit.

He doesn’t have a mirror in his office but even he can tell that it fits like a dream and must look the same. Extending his arms out, he doesn’t feel the tightness in the shoulders he had during the fitting last week and he’s gratified by his range of motion when he leans over his desk and reaches for the top drawer where he’d stashed his cuff links this morning when he’d first came in to the office.

Sliding the understated gold and silver cuff links into his sleeves, Alec shoots the cuffs, readjusts the jacket.

It’s a wonderful suit, he thinks, and makes a mental note to tell Magnus.

He doesn’t know how he’ll do that but it’s on his to-do list. As Alec snags the belt he’d also brought from home earlier, he replays over the fitting from a week ago.

What a mess he’d been, Alec chides himself. Never hearing about the man before, Alec had pictured a middle-aged designer whose excesses had started to betray him. Instead, he’d been treated to the sight of the most beautiful man he’d ever met. He’d been awestruck and unpardonably rude for it.

Magnus had introduced himself and Alec had reciprocated his easy friendliness for a heartbeat. For two or three seconds, Alec had forgotten himself.

He’d seen an attractive man and been enthralled. It had been just a moment, though, before he’d remembered who he was and what was at stake.

Alec didn’t have the luxury of guileless interest.

Still, Magnus had been everything magnanimous and Alec likes to think that he’d fixed the foot he’d stuffed into his mouth.

Damn but it had been hard to concentrate on the conversation. While he appreciated quality, Alec was mostly unfussy about his wardrobe. Magnus just kept asking questions, though, about formality and bow tie versus open throat and when the designer had thrown his little notebook to the ground in a careless gesture and gone to his knees to fiddle with his pants, Alec had grown alarmingly lightheaded.

Looking over Magnus to see his sister positively grinning hadn’t helped matters.

Lost in thought, Alec’s mouth tips up in a small smile as he thinks about how their fitting had ended. While Alec has no doubt that Magnus was just being polite, ever the friendly businessman, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to get to know him more.

And not with a business deal hanging over their heads but as acquaintances, maybe even friends.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Alec takes out a business card with edges soft from wear. It’s sturdy white cardstock and with elegant script engraved in bold black font. It’s simple for all its finery and Alec has an insatiable urge to learn more about the man behind the card.

Alec sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. He’s too damn busy to let himself become preoccupied with a man who is certainly not thinking twice about him.

Looking over at a clock, Alec sees he has an hour before he needs to leave for the venue. Deciding not to change, Alec goes back behind his desk. Instead of working, however, he pulls a book from his shelf. It’s an ARC and a promising one at that-- he respected the author and the premise he’d been given sounded intriguing.

It’s the work of a few minutes to put final touches on his look before Maia is buzzing him to let him know his driver is waiting downstairs.

The drive to the Andrew W. Mellon Auditorium is bumper to bumper and he passes the time scrolling through half a dozen news sites.

He’s always on the cutting edge. There’s never really a down moment.

Stepping out of the town car, it’s onto a red carpet that’s been rolled out. There are a few press publications taking pictures and Alec strolls down the carpet, up the handful of stairs. There’s a spot to pose for photos, which he does with grace even if he really rather wouldn’t. Distantly, he recalls Magnus’s coy, “I can’t wait to see how you photograph in my clothes.”

His cheeks heat and he desperately hopes the cameras don’t pick up on it.

The evening progresses much as he’d known it would. The dinner is atrocious, mediocre and not filling in the slightest. It's a little weird to be here without a date, without Lydia in his ear making snide remarks, but Alec powers through and thankfully no one asks about it.

The night is saved, though, when he and his team wins Investigation of the Year for his look into the Assassination of fellow journalist, Jamal Khashoggi. He’s brought up to the stage and talks for a few minutes about freedom of speech and the duty of journalism and how Kashoggi paid the ultimate price for his criticism against Saudi leaders.

As Alec takes his seat again and his eyes catch morosely on a half dozen wilted green beans, he can’t help but wonder if that’s his fate, too.

He plays with fire so often that he wouldn’t know what to do without the heat always licking at his heels.

His thoughts break off from that morbid line of thought when he feels his phone vibrate. Taking it out, unlocking it, Alec opens his texts to see a message from a contact simply labelled J.

Our usual place? I’ve booked room 1406.

Alec stares down at the dim screen of his phone and feels the expression shift on his face, into something anticipatory. Well, he supposes, that settles his plans for the rest of the night.

He’d thought he’d go home to an empty apartment and pour a glass of whiskey while he worked for a few hours. A bit of an insomniac, Alec rarely fell straight to sleep unless travel had exhausted him.

I’m at a work function tonight. I’ll be there at 11?

Alec barely waits half a minute before his phone is vibrating with a reply.

See you then, Lightwood.

Anticipation is a heady mix. While Alec had a strict policy against relationships-- that was a powder keg waiting to happen-- he didn’t have the same issue with casual hookups. There were a few men in a few cities he could rely on for their discretion. Jeremy, in New York, wasn’t out either and last Alec had seen him, had no plans to any time soon. His family was very Catholic-- two of his uncles were priests-- and his mother went to Mass three times a week without fail.

A restaurateur in the East Village, they’d met one night when Alec had joined work friends at his establishment for a retirement party. Now, almost a year later, they met up once or twice a month whenever Alec was in town at the St. Regis.

The rest of the awards pass in dull monotony, though Alec takes note of the Emerging Journalist of the year-- a sophomore at UC Berkeley-- and a few other categories. It’s closer to midnight when his cab pulls up to St. Regis and Alec keeps his head low as he walks past the doorman, not relaxing until he’s in the elevator. Alone, he slouches against the back, raises a hand to tug his tie undone.

He’s unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt and breathes easier for it. Keeping his eye trained on room numbers, Alec finally comes to a stop down the long corridor when he sees 1406 in gold.

Mouth tipping up in an easy grin, Alec leans against the door jamb as he raises an arm, using his knuckles for a careless knock against the door.

He waits just a moment before it’s swinging open. Raising his head, Alec meets Jeremy’s eyes and straightens, stepping into the hotel room without a backwards glance, determined to enjoy these few hours he allows himself.

And later, when Jeremy tentatively offers to take him out some time-- his pick, whenever he’s free-- Alec shuts that down with barely a thought.

“No,” he replies shortly. They’re still breathing harshly from their latest round, staring up at the ceiling and not at each other. “That’s not what we are, Jeremy. What we are is convenience. I’m sure as hell not cut out for a relationship.”

He turns, spares a glance at a man he barely knows but knows just enough. “Are you okay with that? Tell me if you’re not now because I can’t pretend this is something it isn’t. I meet you at a hotel, we fuck, and one of us leaves before the other wakes up. It’s a good system and one I’m not willing to break. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Alec doesn’t much care one way or another. While it’d be an inconvenience, Alec is firm that he won’t pretend that this is something it’s not.

He’s gratified when Jeremy just sighs and tells him, “You’re a cold son of a bitch, Lightwood. You know that, right,” before he leans over Alec and they both forget about anything as obscene as attachment.

---

Alec wakes up the next morning feeling decidedly gross. His partner is nowhere to be found and when he manages to wake up, he sees all evidence of another person has vanished.

Blowing out a breath, he stays in bed for just a moment more before throwing the sheet away from his body and climbing out of bed.

He makes it home unscathed, heading directly to his shower as soon as he enters his apartment. Scrubbing the night from his skin, Alec feels a hollow sense of satisfaction.

He takes these pieces, sweeps them up into a little pile until he has something resembling enough. It’s far from perfect; the polar opposite from ideal. He couldn’t give a fuck about Jeremy or his other friends. He wasn’t lying.

They really were convenient hookups, ways to blow off steam, release the geyser of stress that’s always roiling just under the surface.

As he reaches for his body wash, Alec’s eyes cool as his mouth downturns. Christ, sometimes he wishes he had more-- that he could have more.

He doesn’t let himself think that too often but once in a while, a thought catches him off guard. Having a relationship, a proper partner.

It’s the antithesis to his life, that much he knows without a doubt.

Still. Alec’s always been more of a romantic than he likes to let on and it’s hard sometimes to see Izzy flirt unabashedly with anyone who catches her eye, with Jace flirting badly with Meliorn whenever the two cross paths at Taki’s.

Resolutely pushing those thoughts away, Alec finishes getting ready. Sliding his watch on, Alec sees he’s just on time to meet his siblings for brunch.

It’s Wednesday morning but both Jace and Izzy had insisted they could go in late. Isabelle, as the senior chemist at Idris Labs, had a pretty flexible schedule. Jace, for his part, owned a food truck and he’d been more than okay with pushing his hours back to see Alec.

Walking into their favorite brunch spot since they were teenagers, Alec sees his siblings already at a table. They perk up when he slides into the booth opposite them.

“Hey, bro,” Jace greets with a grin. “I caught the highlights of that press dinner. Congratulations!”

“Jace says that as if we didn’t watch them live. But, yes, congrats, hermano. We’re so proud of you.”

Shrugging, Alec merely offers, “I only did what was necessary. Koshoggi deserved to be more than front page news for a few weeks and the Saudi regime deserved the microscope I put them under.”

Thankfully, the waitress comes over and grabs their orders, all of which they know by heart so that they don’t even reach for the menus anymore.

Thankful for a breath, Alec looks up, first at Jace and then Isabelle. “So, what’s new with everyone? I feel like I haven’t seen you two in forever.”

“It’s been a week,” Isabelle says with a wry grin.

Nonetheless, they catch each other up on their lives. While they weren’t as close as they’d been before Alec had started travelling for work-- first as a freelance journalist and then signing on full time for CNN-- they liked to keep in touch. As long as Alec was within reach of a phone or laptop, they rarely went more than a few days without talking.

The next hour is a different kind of stress relief for Alec. He listens to Jace talk about his food truck and the cute guy that’s become a regular and listens as Isabelle shares her excitement for her upcoming date. The two of them make plans for dinner and Alec winces as they both look at him expectantly, as though knowing what he’s about to say.

“Actually,” he interjects when both of them have agreed they’re free Sunday night. “I’m leaving tomorrow for three weeks.”

Jace’s mouth tilts up but it’s barely a smile. “What a surprise.”

Stung, Alec snaps, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Isabelle holds out a hand, staving off any argument. “Not today. I’m enjoying my meal and I don’t need you two ruining things. Alec, Jace didn’t mean anything. Jace, you didn’t mean anything by that. Okay?”

Neither Alec nor Jace say anything. They’re staring at each other and Alec’s a little taken aback by Jace’s glare.

A part of him wants to know what the fuck his brother’s problem is but he’s tired and most of his day will be spent with work. Letting it go for now, there’s still an undertone of tension when the bill comes after the three of them have finished their milkshakes.

Jace is the first to leave, citing needing to get to work, and Alec watches him leave, Izzy standing next to him.

“Wanna fill me in on what crawled up his ass since we last saw each other?”

Sighing, Isabelle loops her arm through his and they turn toward uptown where her lab is located. “Not my place,” she says simply.

Her response leaves him more irritated than before he’d asked but Alec bites his tongue, not completely sure that he even wants to open that can of worms.

They walk a few blocks before Isabelle needs to turn and Alec’s path to CNN headquarters takes him straight. She pulls him into a hug before stepping back and putting her hands on his shoulders.

“Be safe and don’t be a hero.” She smiles, just a little, and it’s equal parts resigned and chiding. “I love you, Alec.”

“Love you too, Iz.” Pulling her in for another hug, Alec holds on for a beat or two before finally releasing her and turning his own way.

Afternoon passes into night and Alec catches up on work. He has a dozen balls in the air at any given moment and keeping up with everything is a struggle. He signs off on reports and a few contracts that need final signatures. He makes a guest appearance on all three evening news hours, speaking as a special political commentator and doesn’t get back to his apartment until after midnight.

His flight is slated for five in the morning and Alec has just enough time to pack and make sure everything is in order before he’s being notified that the hired driver is waiting to take him to the airport.

Waiting to board his flight, Alec stops by Starbucks and orders a red eye. It’s strong as hell and exactly what he needs. Finding a seat at his gate, he fucks around on his phone for awhile. He sees a notification in his mentions and when he swipes over, he can’t stop his automatic grin.

It’s a picture from Tuesday’s press gala that a popular tabloid has tweeted. He’s at the photograph station and he knows he looks good. Magnus, however, has quoted that with the addition, “Alec’s wearing a custom Magnus Bane. Doesn’t he look like a million bucks?”

There are a few facetious emojis tagged on at the end and Alec huffs out a laugh as he likes the tweet. Going to Magnus’s profile, his eyes scan over the profile picture that shows him in low light. Scrolling a little, Alec sees Magnus is much more engaged on Twitter than he is and in a moment of weakness, he scrolls back up to the top and taps the follow button.

A little to his surprise, he gets the notification that Magnus has followed him back just a few minutes later. He didn’t think Magnus would be such an early riser, especially considering it’s not even light outside yet.

Alec doesn’t let his mind wander long, though, before he’s turning back to work. He spends what little remaining time he has before boarding begins to read over his notes. He continues that during most of his flight. Managing a few hours sleep, Alec still feels like death warmed over whenever he lands in China.

He has his credentials and passes ready and most of that first day is spent filling out forms with the Chinese government.

This assignment isn’t the longest he’s been on by far. Still, the three weeks seem to fly and drag by at the same time. He meets dozens of officials and uses what little free time he’s allowed to get a feel for the city and interview people on the fringes of his interest piece.

Every night he comes back to his hotel and types up his notes. Still, not all of his time is spent on China. He still has articles due for different newspapers back in the States and he spends a few hours every day keeping on top of things back home.

By the time his assignment is over-- he has all the information he’s going to get, his televised interview with Xi Jinping has been filmed-- Alec’s exhausted.

It’s an exhaustion that runs bone deep and when his car takes him back to the Hong Kong airport, Alec wants nothing more than a shower and his own goddamn bed.

The flight is uneventful and Alec surprises himself by choosing to read a book-- for pleasure even. The flight is uncomfortable no matter that he’s in business class and the first thing he does when he lands back in New York is call headquarters and get updated on what he’s missed and expectations for the next few days.

Thankfully, Jia tells him in no uncertain terms to take a day or two before he shows his face at work and Alec laughs and agrees. She usually insists that he take a bit of a break with longer assignments and luckily, it’s never more than two days.

She doesn’t know he always has work at home and Alec has no intention of telling her.

Most of the first day is spent faceplanted in his bed after the world’s most efficient shower.

The second day, though, Alec decides to pack up his laptop and notes for the book he’s been working on for the past six months. The publisher wanted a tentative first draft by the end of summer and with only four or five months left, Alec was woefully short.

It was a a treatise about America’s current political climate with personal anecdotes thrown in. Alec was slogging through it but it was dense as hell and he had enough research to make a Ph.D candidate wince.

Walking into his favorite little coffee shop in Brooklyn-- he’d discovered it during college and had been a regular ever since-- Alec settles in. Spreading his notes out, he focuses on work.

He works steadily, wrapping up the current chapter he’d been working on when he suddenly feels eyes on him. Sighing a little-- it happened from time to time even at the most inopportune times-- Alec looks up and freezes.

His chest squeezes a little as his gaze meets warm brown eyes.

“Magnus,” he says under his breath, too low for anyone to hear.

Magnus’s mouth kicks up like he heard Alec after all and then he’s grabbing his drink from the barista and making his way over to him.

“Alexander. Fancy meeting you here.”

Nodding toward his sprawled out pile of work, Alec replies, “I just flew back into the city last night. I thought I’d get some work done in a setting that’s a little more casual than the office.”

Blowing across the top of his drink to cool it, Magnus eyes the pile. “What are you working on?”

“A book, if you can believe that. Something political and dire as befitting the current administration.”

Magnus rolls his eyes before grinning. “I can’t wait to read it. I’m sure you’ll do justice to the topic.”

“I’m trying,” Alec says as he jerks a shoulder in a semblance of a shrug. “What are you doing here?”

Magnus’s expression is amused as he nods outside the shop. “This is the closest coffee shop to my apartment. I come in here almost every day. I’ve never seen you here before, though.”

“I found this place in college and have been coming ever since. I don’t come here as often as I might like but when I’m in the city, it’s at least once a week.”

“What a coincidence,” Magnus murmurs before perking up. “You mentioned you just flew back in last night. Were you somewhere devastatingly exotic?”

“China,” Alec replies dryly. “It was painfully mundane.”

Looking intrigued, Alec watches as Magnus hesitates for a bare moment before he gestures toward the chair across from him. Before he can ask, Alec is already waving him toward the empty seat. “Please, sit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you stand forever.”

“Thank you, darling.” Magnus shoots him a smile before taking a seat. It’s oddly graceful, elegant for such an everyday gesture.

“Now,” Magnus says briskly, crossing one leg over the other and staring at Alec with something indefinable in his eye. “How was China, as you put it, painfully mundane?”

Relaxing in his seat, Alec’s look is wry as he says, “It was work, Magnus. I spent an overwhelming majority of my time trying to get the truth from people determined not to give me any. It was exhausting. I have some great content that will start to drop in a few days but these trips are hardly ever pleasure for me.”

“Don’t say you’re a workaholic now. That ruins a fair bit of the image I had of you in my head-- you know what they say about all work and no play, Alexander.”

“My job is demanding,” Alec replies with a short laugh. “Sorry to spoil things, but any image you have of me is probably categorically false. As Isabelle’s always telling me, I’m a bit of a dud.”

Raising a brow, Magnus repeats, “A dud? Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m focused on my career. As it happens, that career is more high-octane than most. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for anything else.”

“More’s the pity,” Magnus says softly and Alec’s suddenly uncomfortably when he turns sharp eyes to him.

It’s like he sees everything Alec tries to hide, everything he doesn’t say.

And then Magnus is brightening. “Are you one of those people who become horribly distracted if anyone so much breathes in their direction while working?”

Alec sets a deadpan look over Magnus. “I’m a journalist. I can pretty much work through anything. Why?”

“Well,” Magnus draws out and Alec mostly thinks he imagines the tentative look in his eye. “I have a few hours before I have to be in my office but I have some work I could get done before going in. I was thinking a change of scenery might help me too, if you’re willing.”

It takes Alec a moment to understand what he’s trying to say but then he grins when he does, a small, pleased little thing. “Feel free,” he says and shoves some of his stuff away from what’s officially Magnus’s side of the table.

Magnus returns that smile before reaching down to his bag and pulling out a sheaf of papers.

And no matter what Alec might’ve said just a few moments before, he’s definitely distracted as he also pulls out a pair of black framed glasses, slipping them on absently while organizing his little pile of paper.

When he looks up and catches his eye, Magnus is sheepish. “I hate the things,” he says, pointing to the glasses. “But I need them, so. I know it doesn’t exactly fit my own dashing reputation.”

“I like them.” Alec’s reply is out of his mouth before he can think and while he feels heat climb into his cheeks, he’s rewarded by a pleased if surprised smile from Magnus. Swallowing hard, he adds, “They suit you.”

“Thank you, darling.” A teasing light comes into Magnus’s eyes as he continues, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Alec doesn’t know how to respond to that without getting embarrassingly tongue tied, so he just looks down at his laptop and reads the same sentence seven times without comprehending it.

It’s absurd but Alec is quickly growing familiar with the way Magnus is proving the exception to his most ironclad rules. He’s met people all of the world from all different backgrounds and he rarely has a problem engaging them in conversation. It’s part of his job and one that he’s good at even if those closest to him would be a little surprised to learn just how competent he is at socializing.

In his line of work, that particular skill set is crucial to forming ties and establishing trust.

With Magnus, however, that all goes out the window. The man makes an innocuous enough comment and Alec finds himself tongue-tied. A part of him wishes desperately that he could flirt back but he can’t-- that wouldn’t be fair to either of them-- not to mention that it would be just a little presumptuous.

Alec has a sinking suspicion that Magnus is friendly with everyone. What a faux pas would if be if Alec read more into things.

He shudders at just the thought.

Magnus doesn’t say anything else and Alec manages to turn his focus back to his work. To his surprise, Magnus is an acceptable work partner. He doesn’t click his pen, doesn’t have a need too fill the silence that’s fallen over their little corner of the coffee shop. He scans through documents, signing every so often, and every time Alec looks up, Magnus appears deep in thought. He has the endearing habit of bringing his pen up to his mouth to chew absently on the cap and it’s a little tick that Alec wouldn’t have suspected but enjoys nonetheless.

He’s startled, then, when he’s ass deep in research for a particular law he wants to use-- he needs to get a deep understanding of it before he can even begin explaining what it means and why it’s important-- when Magnus bites back a curse.

He looks up to meet Magnus’s incredulous gaze.

“I’m sorry, but it looks like I’m running late for my afternoon meeting. I hadn’t even realized so much time had passed.”

Looking down at the corner of his laptop, Alec’s brows raise as he sees they’ve been sitting together for over four hours.

“We should’ve set an alarm,” he says with a stunned smile.

Gathering his work, Magnus packs up his things as he returns Alec’s expression. “Yes, that would’ve been good thinking. I didn’t anticipate getting so distracted,” he admits.

“You’re easy to share a table with.”

“Thank you, Alexander. I’m glad I wasn’t a nuisance.” Magnus laughs and a part of Alec leans into the sound, no matter that he stays in place.

Magnus stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He takes a single step backward, toward the front door. “How long are you in town for this time around?”

Pausing to think, Alec finally offers, “As long as nothing crops up, I’m in New York for at least a few months. Most of my time needs to be spent working on this damned thing,” he says, nodding toward the evidence of his writing.

“Maybe I’ll see you around then. Bye, darling.”

Alec nods in acknowledgement and watches as Magnus turns on his heel and strides out of the little coffee shop, looking too big for the place, his presence too striking for a regular little coffee shop.

Blowing out a breath, Alec wonders if he’ll see Magnus again and if so, when. Most of him hopes he does and soon.

There’s a little piece, though, that he tries to tamp down on that whispers maybe it’s best if they don’t see each other again.

Something tells him that Magnus is different to everyone else, even if it's in ways he can't quite definite yet.

Shaking his head impatiently, Alec pushes any and all thoughts of Magnus Bane out of his head. The truth is, they probably won’t see each other again for months, if that.

He has bigger things to worry about than an interesting fashion designer who pulls off glasses like he was born for them.

---

Except the next morning, Alec comes back to the little Brooklyn coffee shop and almost immediately, his gaze lands on Magnus.

Magnus, who looks up with a smile that only grows when he sees the book bag over Alec’s shoulder.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, just like he had yesterday and Alec laughs, a quick burst, while he tries to recover.

“What are you doing here?” It could come off as rude, short, but Alec’s already nearing the table and bringing his bag down to rest on the floor against the chair that sits across from Magnus.

Magnus shrugs. “I have work to get through and I can do that just as easily here as I can in my office. My office doesn’t have such a view, after all,” he says with a little grin that reads just as coy as it is hesitant.

Alec doesn’t linger over the words. Peering at the table, Alec nods toward the half that has stuff on it; the other half of the table is perfectly cleared off. “Is this seat taken?”

“Yes, by you, darling.” Magnus beams at him and gestures grandly for Alec to take the seat opposite him.

Getting settled in, Alec pops up a few minutes later to order a coffee for himself as well as a refill for Magnus. The morning passes much like the past afternoon had. They both work on their own things but together and it’s odd but it fills Alec with a buzzing energy that itches just under his skin.

He likes the quiet and while he’s loathe to admit something so whimsical-- even to himself-- he likes the quiet with Magnus even more.

They don’t talk much that day, both focused on their work. Alec’s the one that has to leave first that day, off to the studio to shoot a debate between two political leaders of different parties. Magnus nods in acknowledgement, wishes him a productive afternoon, but nothing else.

So it’s pure coincidence when Alec goes right back to the little coffee shop the next morning and sees Magnus for the third day in a row.

It becomes a thing after that-- or really, Alec thinks, since the very beginning. And while the first week or so is filled with comfortable silence and the sounds of typing, the dull thrum of everyone else in the coffee shop nice in the background, Magnus and Alec rarely talk.

They both seem to want to preserve the spell that’s fallen over them but then one day Magnus is obviously distracted. He fidgets with his papers and Alec feels his eyes on him every four seconds it seems until finally, exasperated and fond-- too fond for the duration of their acquaintance, that’s for sure-- Alec looks up and meets Magnus’s eyes.

“What’s with you today?”

Magnus stills and then launches into a rambling rant about best friends who think they know best but really don’t know jack shit. Alec surprises himself when he bursts out laughing when he learns that Magnus’s best friend, Ragnor, has been surprising him with a different treat every day in the hopes that he’ll take the hint and take a break from things.

“He’s gotten me a gift card to a bookstore, a wine box subscription, and he’s started leaving little hints all over the office for me to take a vacation. There are little palm trees on the kitchen counter and Clary has started talking about the weather in a different tropical locale every day for the past two weeks. The man is driving me insane, Alexander.”

Shaking his head a little, the mood lightens considerably over their table as they both abandon any semblance of work. Instead, they order more coffee and talk.

They get to know each other a little better, piece by piece. Alec learns about Ragnor and Raphael and Catarina and he takes his own turn to talk about his siblings and how they drive him crazy but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

After that day, something shifts in their budding friendship. They spend a few minutes every day catching up with the other and it often devolves entirely into meandering conversations that poke and prod at what seems to be laying just under the surface.

There are some topics Alec doesn’t broach and Magnus gently hints before backing away entirely once he realizes the off-limit subjects-- the confidential aspects of his job, his dating history. Though Alec talks a little bit about Lydia-- by all accounts they were together since college-- he’s strangely reticent to share as much as he might’ve with anyone else.

He doesn’t want to lie to Magnus. Not about Lydia and not about what Lydia helped hide.

It’s a month later and Magnus and Alec have seen each other almost every day since that first afternoon at the coffee shop. Alec is dreadfully behind in his projected timeline to complete his book but he finds that he can’t care overmuch, not when he’s having so much fun getting to know Magnus.

He doesn’t look the man up, doesn’t want to learn about the famous designer before either of them are ready. He takes what Magnus shares and becomes just a little more infatuated every day.

He can’t tell if Magnus feels the same, one iota of what Alec’s feeling. It’s all a moot point anyway, he tells himself but. Still. He wonders if it’s as one sided as it seems or if-- in another world, another life-- there could be something more there.

Everything is going well until Alec gets the call from CNN’s headquarters that he’ll be leaving the next afternoon for his next assignment.

He takes the call and as he listens to the proposal, a part of him feels the familiar rush of adrenaline. There’s another part, though, that’s full of the tiniest bit of disappointment.

Four months.

It’s still not the longest assignment he’s been on. Not by far. But his mind skips to Magnus and their routine and even as he agrees immediately to his assignment, he’s dreading telling Magnus.

Magnus, who’s become an unwitting friend over the past month.

When they meet at the coffee shop just a couple of hours later, Magnus takes one look at him and immediately asks, “What’s wrong?”

Alec smiles, just a little, at Magnus reading him so well. It dies on his lips though as he opens his mouth to reply before getting out, “I got my next assignment. I leave tomorrow.”

He watches as Magnus’s smile dims, as he settles back in his seat as he absorbs the news. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s silent for a minute before Magnus looks up and smiles wanly. “How long?”

Wincing, Alec replies, “Four months. Depending on how it all unfolds, though, it could be extended.”

“Well,” Magnus says and it’s clear that it’s trying to be bright but fails spectacularly, “Do you have plans for tonight?”

Alec blinks. “Plans? Tonight?”

Something thaws in Magnus’s expression as he watches Alec’s confusion. “Yes, darling, tonight. If you’re going to be away for half a year, I’d like to see you one more time before you go. If you’re amenable, we could have dinner together.”

“That sounds great, Magnus.” Alec’s voice is soft, just above a whisper.

Magnus’s gaze warms even further at Alec’s easy acquiescence. “Wonderful. I’ll make the arrangements and text you the address-- Oh, we would need to exchange numbers for that, I suppose.”

It takes Alec a spare second to realize that the two of them haven’t even exchanged numbers yet. By tacit agreement, they both had just shown up to the coffee shop ever morning, letting the other know they day before if there would be a change.

“Yeah,” Alec breathes. “Let’s do that.”

The two of them exchange numbers and it’s such a small gesture but it lights Alec up. Though, he tries his damnedest to hide just how effected he is by having Magnus’s cell number.

The two of them don’t even try to turn back to their work after that. They spend the rest of the morning talking and there’s a new energy lingering in the undertones of their conversation. It’s almost frenetic, an impending knowledge that they only have this last day before they’ll be apart for the foreseeable future.

Magnus leaves in the early afternoon after half a dozen progressively more annoyed texts from Ragnor. He leaves with a promise to make the arrangements-- something private, away from prying eyes-- and leaves with his customary flourish.

Alec watches him leave and wonders how he’ll survive dinner with the growing acknowledgement that he’s falling for Magnus and the knowledge that there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

[laketaj24]

Played: Part 1

A/N: This is a sequel to the Game On Series!!! I hope you enjoy! I tagged the same people! If you would liked to be add or removed say the word! And let me know what you think! 

“Thanks for calling Lothbrok Holdings, this is Helga. How can I help?”

You glance around the corners noticing that this place is nothing like before. The solid white furniture sat scattered through the waiting area on the checkered floors. The chrome Lothbrok sign hangs over a picture of Ragnar and Aslaug and you can’t help but to be unsettled. They were both gone now. The grown men they had were all orphans now.

Helga finishes up her phone call and her eyes connect with yours. “YN! Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you darling!” She stands from her desk waiting for you to make your way over to her. “The memorial starts in a few minutes. I figured you would be seated already. The auditorium is just outside those doors.”

“Uhm, yeah I am going, I just wanted to see Ivar first if he is free?”

“He isn’t at the moment.” She said.

“Okay, later then.”

“Would you like to make an appointment?” Helga flourishes the thick planner on her desk.

“Sure, if that will be easier.”

“Yes, Mr. Lothbrok is busy here of late.”

Mr. Lothbrok, you try not to roll you eyes but five years had changed everything in Kattegat. “Okay, when is he free?”

Helga flips through the book ghosting it with her finger before settling on a date. “Two weeks from today is vacant?”

“Hell no.” You scoff. “I’m YN, I’m not waiting to see him for two weeks. Helga, I just wnt a conversation with him.”

“Why does he deserve one now? You didn’t want to talk to him when you left with no word? You didn’t want a conversation when he continued to call and text you. Why do you want to talk to him now? I would rather you leave. I will write your name down for two weeks from today at four. If you still have the words to say to him, then that will do just fine.”

You don’t argue with her sliding your phone back into your purse before shaking your head in agreement. “Yeah, that’ll be fine Helga.”

“I know it will. Have a good day, see you at the memorial.”

 The Auditorium is packed wall to wall with people you remember from your youth and people who were known for being with Ragnar. The family was on the stage, even Bjorn which shocked you for a moment. You take a seat in the second aisle with your eyes hooked on Ragnar’s picture. Nothing was the same.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attendance today.” Ubbe says. He clears his throat. “I know that this day is hard for many of you. I look out into the audience and all I see is family, rather blood or not, each and everyone of you has played a role in making Lothbrok Holdings what it is today. And I just want to say that you are appreciated.” His eyes hook with yours and he clears his throat once more. “It’s no secret that my father loved us. And for his love we are eternally grateful. I don’t want to say much. Hvitserk?”

Hvitserk joins him at the podium. “Well said, I’m not the speaker. But I will say that he was a great man no matter what his flaws were, and we love him.”

The room is silent as they take their seats. Ivar enters from the left side carrying his sleek back cane with the chrome Raven as the handle and the audience erupts in cheer. They loved him. “Being of any heritage a funeral is never a rejoiceful event, but I am rejoicing. My father for certain is in Valhalla, surrounded by his brothers and my mother, happy. So, today I ask that we do not grieve but memorialize him for his achievements of growing Kattegat into the stronghold it has become and Lothbrok Holdings, for being a major force in every line of industry. My father was a determined man and like him this company will continue to push through with determination and pride as being one of the most powerful companies in the world. We love you dad, for every stone you have turned to get us here. You will never be forgotten.”

It’s strange hearing him speak of being a leader. It sticks in your mind as you wade through the crowd to your car noticing them all as they leave. Ivar ventures to the black Rolls Royce alone. Ubbe carries out his two children with three more trailing behind him and Torvi. Hvitserk drapes his arm around Margarethe and Bjorn stands against the wall with the new blonde chick. They all feel like strangers now. And you had all been so close your entire life. You didn’t know what to say to them or how to start off your apologies, so you waved from a distant and headed home.

The empty loft was full of boxes but all you wanted to do was cuddle up in the bed and make the best of being alone. You scroll through aimlessly on Facebook and you see it. The reason he gave such a grandiose speech.

The article had come out a few days after his death and to everyone else in Kattegat it was shocking but not to you. He was the smartest most cunning brother, even jail time done nothing to his morale or the way he presented his intelligence. You loved it more than anything else about him. He always seen things other couldn’t see and it was astounding. You continue to read the article trying to hide the grin on your face of the picture he’s taken. Ragnar knew what was best for Lothbrok and it was Ivar.

“Y/N! You’re back!” Ubbe steps off of the elevator with a great smile on his face. You’d heard about him too, running to be Mayor of Kattegat with full support of Lothbrok Holdings. He would be great given his sense of leadership and newfound love for family.

“I am.” You beam waving at the toddlers attached to his leg.

“Are you headed to see him?”

“Yes, to catch up a little.”

Ubbe says a nothing but the look on his face expresses it all, you didn’t know what had been told and a part of you didn’t care. Five years was a long time and by gones should be by gones. “He isn’t the same Ivar you remember.” He says simply. “But I wish you all the well! We should catch up since you are back.” He swings one toddler up and winks at you. “Make you babysit my kids one day teach.”

 He leaves, and you see Helga is gone from her watchdog post of his door. You knock a few times on the door and you hear him stirring around. “Helga, what!”

You slowly open the door peeping your head in. “I know I need an appointment.” You smiled.

“None sense, come in.” He smirked waving you in. He sands from his desk maneuvering to perch himself up on the corner of the desk. “It’s good to see you, YN.” Ivar places the Manila colder on the edge of his desk and gives you a smug smile.

“You too Ivar.” You Pause looking at the painted portrait of Ragnar behind him. He’s changed so much. He no longer wore jeans. He pants were pressed and near along with the white shirt and diamond cufflinks. He wasn’t a boy anymore. You clear your throat. “That memorial was stupendous.”

“Thank you. We actually buried him a few days ago. Your parents were there.”

“I know, they told me that it was beautiful.”

“Something like that,” Ivar fiddles with the zen garden on his desk.

He had a Zen garden, the same guy who had threatened to kill all of his brothers sincerely at some point in his life had a brother. You suppress the chuckle. Never in your life had you expected him to be this man. “I came to see you. I’ve seen Hvitserk and Ubbe already. They are so different. Hvitserk not so much, but Ubbe.”

“Family man.”

“I see.”

“Did you want something?”

“I moved back to town because I lost my job. They closed the pre-school and I went from Center Director to unemployed and evicted.”

“Ouch.” He says with no emotion.

“Yeah, and I moved home. I know you’re fully staffed at the in house daycare here, but…”

“Let me stop you right there.” He holds his hand up and shaking his head. “I don’t give jobs, Y/N. I’m the CEO now, I can’t show favoritism to someone who does not have experience or who hasn’t worked for their position. Do you understand?”

“I…” your words fade at his harshness. You swallow back the surge of tears. “I wasn’t going to ask you for a job.”

“But you were.” He said nodding his head. “Leave your information with Helga and she will contact the Head of HR to see what positions are available for you to interview for,” he stands from the edge of the desk and shakes his head. “Anything else?”

“No.” You answer reaching for your purse. “I’m proud of you Ivar. You turned out better than half the people expected.”

“Than you expected?”

“I always knew you were going to be great.” You admit.

Ivar stares at you and you try to discover rather it is rage or hurt in his eyes, it doesn’t matter for they’re on fire. He continues to shake his head as if he’s confused and then he kisses you. His lips envelope yours in an erratic kiss and you’re eager to respond cupping his face as you’d dreamed for years again. He still limps with his walk but it’s not nearly as bad as it had once been. He backs you into the couch unbuckling his pants with one fluid motion and hovers over you. He pushes your dress up past your hips diving into you without even checking to see if you’re wet. He pants triumphantly in your ear rocking into you with sharp thrusts. It wasn’t the normal sex you were used to with him, this was fucking. A fuck you fuck to be exact. You meet his hips until the friction from him sends you into a small spiral and spills himself in you breathing heavily before standing up and adjusting himself. “Give your info to Helga.” He fixes his hair reaches for the sleek black cane behind him. “You can go.”

You feel the rush of seeing him again fade from excitement to embarrassment as he leaves you half naked on his couch and exits the office.

 You still leave your number and info to Helga with hopes something would be available. Days go by and you find unpacking is a stress reliever. You used to gripe about your parents owning apartments, but you were most grateful they did now. They’d given you the top floor loft, barely furnished but you had a shit Tom in storage. The apartment was rent free, but you still had other pills and they weren’t hip to giving anymore, than the loft. You wanted to have a house warming party, but you didn’t really have a good choice of friends. All of your friends were Lothbroks and perhaps that was your fault for not being more open to other people. You’re alone with your feelings hoping he texts or calls and he does neither. But three days later you receive an email.

 Greetings from Lothbrok Holdings.

We are writing you to offer you the position listed below:

Mail Room Associate, Level One

$14/HR, 40 Hours weekly, Full Time.

 If you are interested in accepting the position please report to HR Manager, Lydia Finehair Monday at 5am to start orientation. We are excited to have you on our team. Thanks again for applying with us!

 Vice President,

Hvitserk R. Lothbrok

Fucking Mail Room. You huff to yourself staring at the empty apartment around you. He certainly hadn’t lost any of his pettiness.

Taglist: @titty-teetee @kimistry27@whenimaunicorn@imgoldielikehawn @sparklemichele@readsalot73@oddsnendsfanfics @kawennote09@valynsia@valynsia@genxmama @oneday-i-will-fight-luke17@kenzieam @ivars-snowflake @sincerelysinister @ivars-snowflake@suz-123@fivesecondsofsarang@sunnyfortomorrow @2loveeverything2@wilddrabble @clumsywonderland@letsshamelessqueen-m @kc-7 @alyse45@romanchronicles@getinmelanin011@doloreschanal @captstefanbrandt @harleycativy@byzantium-glytch @pebblesz892 @earthsmightiestasses@lisinfleur @unsure-but-trying @rachybakes @amethyst09 @thequintess@leaderradiante@daughterofthenight117 @jorunnravenslayer @hvitserksgirl @emilymarlow8 @perfectus-in-morte @amour-quinn@sassymcgonagal1651@samwinchxtr @ivarsshieldmadien @bang-kim-bap @akamaiden @scumyeol

[vicbartons]

73 and 2. 😘

excuse me; stay here tonight

“Never seen those, to be honest.Is there nothing else on?” Aaron asked, looking up at Robert over the car magazine that his nose had been buried in for the past half an hour. 

Robert, who had been hunched over the kitchen table, shot up at Aaron´s admission, eyes wide. ”Excuse me?“ He huffed, sounding genuinely offended.

Aaron only raised an eyebrow upon hearing the tone of his voice, fearing that he was in for yet another one of Robert´s lectures concerning his lack of knowledge of popular culture. (Or culture in general, if you asked Robert.)

“Never seen those,” Aaron repeated stolidly, his glare daring Robert to go off on one of his tangents.

It was an early friday afternoonand they were in the back of the pub. Aaron spread out on the sofa, bone-tired after a week´s work at the scrapyard, and Robert at the kitchen table with his eyes focused on his phone.

Up until a moment ago, he´d been scrolling through the listing forthe cinema in Hotten. He´d heard that they were doing some kind of throwbackevent and showing nothing but 80´s movies all week, which obviouslyhad Robert interested, giant nerd that he was. 

So he´d brought upthe idea of an impromptu date night.

Work had been busy for both of themthe past week, which had lead to them not seeing nearly enough ofeach other for their tastes. 

That, and they were still trying tonavigate this new phase of their relationship - the one in which theyweren´t reduced to stolen kisses in dark corners and secret meetingsin barns that smelled of hay and farm animals any longer. 

Dating, according to Robert, had toinclude proper nights out for just the two of them, wining and diningmore than a stone´s throw away from either of their bedrooms. (If hewas feeling extra confident, he´d even go as far as to try and getAaron into something other than a black hoodie for the occasion.) 

It´s not that Aaron disagreed per se, he just didn´t see anything wrong with makinguse of the pub right next to his living room and the free pints thatcame with being the owner´s son. 

But no matter how much he loved to tease Robert over his posh ways, if he was being honest, part ofhim enjoyed the nights out of town where it was just them spending time together, away from the eyes of all the gossip-lovingvillagers and the death glares of the Whites. 

It made this thingbetween them feel more real. And given how long Aaron had playedsecond fiddle to Chrissie - never in his wildest dreams allowinghimself to believe he would ever actually have Robert all to himself- just being out and about together in front of strangers, withRobert´s hand reassuringly pressed against the small of his back,was something that Aaron valued more than he could put into words.

Still, he wasn´t going to spendtwo hours of his life watching a sequel to a film he´d never seen.

Normally, he wouldn´t be toobothered by it. If it was up to Aaron, they would pick seats in thelast row of the cinema and he could spent his night leisurely letting hisfingers run up and down Robert´s thigh and maybe snog him senselessduring the boring bits. That way, they´d be too distracted to reallypay attention to whatever was happening on the big screen in front ofthem anyway.

He´d never have thought that thatwas an idea he would have to convince Robert of all people of.

Not when the man had spent most oftheir affair unable to keep his hands off of Aaron even atthe most inappropriate of times. (Aaron´s cheeks still went brightred when he as much as thought of that afternoon up at Home Farm, whenRobert´s hand had shamelessly found its way to his crotch under thetable during a business meeting with Lawrence.)

But as it turned out,now that they were getting used to the luxury of being able to touch whenever andwherever they wanted to, Robert had no qualms about shoving him offand shushing him in favour of some geeky film that Aaron had usually never even heard of, which was more often than not down to the fact that it had come out years or sometimes decades before he was born. Instead, Robert was perfectly happy just to intertwine theirfingers and lean into Aaron´s side, while letting himself beengrossed by spaceships, cowboys or superheros for an hour and a half. He was still Robert Sugden though, which meant that just to put Aaron more on edge than he already was, ever so often Robert would whisper teasing promises into Aaron´s ear that made himthankful for the darkness of the cinema. (Otherwise,the colour of his cheeks would surely have given away to the peoplearound them exactly what Robert´s evening plans for them were.)

So if he was going to spend twohours in the dark, actually having to pay attention to the filminstead of making out with his gorgeous better half, it would have tobe something he´d at least be able to enjoy.

“How?” Robert started, still in an obvious state of shock, “How can you never have seen Star Wars?”

Aaron couldn´t help but smirk upon seeing the look on Robert´s face. “Mate, it´s just a film. Noreason to go all-” he started, rolling his eyes in annoyance, but Robertcut in before he could finish his sentence.

“Just a film?” he mocked, ”Are you kidding meright now?” His voice almost jumped up an octave at that, while hishands were gesticulating in the air wildly, “ ´The Empire StrikesBack´ isn´t just a film! It´s a flipping classic, Aaron. It´s one ofthe greatest films of all time. How did you have the time to make your way through Michael Bay´s entire atrocity of an IMDB page, but skip over Star Wars?”

Aaron pushed himself up off the sofa then, scuffling over to the kitchen table. “Will you just get over it?” he sighed, leaning against Robert´s chair from behind. 

Secretly, Aaron loved seeing Robert get all animated when discussing these things he loved that Aaron himself knew nothing about. 

Whether it were comics, movies or books or even articles from one of the endless number of scientific magazines Robert had subscriptions to. Whenever Robert got talking about these things, his eyes lit up with childlike wonder and Aaron couldn´t stop himself from falling a little bit more in love with him at the sight. 

That was, unless Robert´s usual excitement turned into more of a geeky wreath that he chose to focus directly on Aaron. 

“None of them? Really?“ Robertinquired again, turning around slightly so he could look up at Aaron and wondering if perhaps, unbeknownst to him, Aaron had in fact spent all of his life living under a rock. “Noteven the prequels?“

“The what now?“ Aaron asked, letting his head fall to the side, frustration clear on his face now. 

“I feel like I need to reevaluatethis whole relationship now,“ Robert muttered under his breath, but there was a small grin tugging at the corners of his face. Aaron took it as a sign and -  since he was already well over this nonsensical tiff they were apparently heaving - leaned down and pressed a kiss against Rober´s lips.

“You can be a right drama queensometimes, you know that?“ he said, only pulling away an inch.

“Shut it, you,“ Robert countered, a bit of fire still left in his eyes, but his mouth already pliant under Aaron´s touch, “My boyfriendhas never seen Star Wars! This is a perfectly fitting reaction tothat kind of information.“

Boyfriend. It had beenalmost 6 weeks now, but Aaron hadn´t gotten used to the word yet and it would take him a while still. Though that didn´t change thesmall tingling feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever Robert usedthe term. In fact, he had noticed that Robert used it quite often and the smile on his face when he didso told him that he wasn´t the only one who savoured the term andeverything that came with it. Not that there hadn´t been acertain thrill to their affair, but this, this hadthe potential to be so much better. Thrilling in a wholenew way, because it was real. Because Robert wasn´t going to run offback to Chrissie after a quick screw anymore. Because this timethey were doing things properly, getting to know each other in awhole new way, quirks and all.

“I know about the ´Luke, Iam your father´ twist,” Aaron teased, couldn´t help himself really, ”There can´t be much more to it than that.”

“That´s not even the quote,Aaron,” his tone was harsh, but his eyes betrayed him.

“Course it is.” Aaron kissed him again.

“How would you know? You´venever even seen it,” Robert´s hand curled around the back of Aaron´s neck, pulling him closer. “Makes me question what other red flagsyou´ve been hiding from me,“ he pondered as their noses rubbed against each other.

“Guess you´ll have to stickaround and find out,” Aaron muttered, pressing a kiss in the space right below Robert´s ear, leaving a small mark there with his teeth.

“Though it´s good to know you´re finewith the criminal record, but draw the line at 80´s sci-fi movies,weirdo,” he whispered, feeling Robert´s laugh against his lips, rather than seeing it.

“Nothing wrong with having yourpriorities in order.” 

Aaron pulled back then to look at Robert, a playful, self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. “Let´s stay heretonight.“ 

Robert wasn´t the only one in this relationship whohad his priorites in order.

“You sure?” he questioned, one eyebrow raised, ”We could always-” Aaron shut him up by bending down, there lips once again meeting.

“Mhm,” he hummed, letting his tongue slide over Robert´s bottom lip, “I´m sure.” He let his hands, that had been playing with the hairs at the back of Robert´s neck for a while now, move down along the collar of his white dress shirt until he was tugging on his boyfriends maroon tie. Pulling it lose in one swift motion.

Robert was grinning against him, determined to have the last word eventhough he had clearly already given into Aaron´s plans for their night. “I´m going to have to take Finnto see ´Rogue One´, won´t I?” he whispered against Aaron´s skin in a mock sullen tone, peppering kisses down his boyfriend´s neck, “The guy is such a-” 

Suddenly, he was stopped by a palm pressed flat against his mouth, a mischievous look on Aaron´s face. “If I were you, nerd,” Aaron growled lowly, one eyebrow raised high, “I´d shutup now.”

And Robert did. Mouth too busy with activities far more entertaining than banter anyway.

(Obviously, Robert still made Aaron sit through all seven films a few weeks later. Both of them spending almost the entirety of a long weekend tugged under a blanket on the sofa at Victoria´s together, cuddling close and living off of nothing but pizza and thai food. Aaron didn´t actually end up hating them. Well, the prequels were a bit shite, but according to Robert, watching and hating them was a right of passage. Still, Aaron spent most of those hours watching Robert out of the corner of his eye rather than the telly, enjoying that fluttering feeling that found its way into the pit of his stomach whenever Robert´s face lit up and his cheeks grew pink in excitement.)