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aeempress · 3 years

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Apritello Express Evidences, part 2

Khem-khem, ladies and gentlemen, we shall continue out praising Apritello's episodes. And yeah, this part will be dedicated, in entirety just one episode.

Purple jacket. April and Donnie's episode.

I really love this piece of masterpiece, because it show April and Dee relationship, better reveals them as characters, and demonstrates their connection. (My previous points at this whole situation)

The episode begins with Donnie sneaking into April's school under the pretext of helping her. Soon, April stated the reason why she called D - her science computer project. Actually, she could take a photo of the code and sent it to Donatello, and I'm sure, he would send her the correct one right away, he's coder, he's prodigy, no probbles.

But still, April just asked him to come over and help her without stating any reasons. And he, indeed, came at speed of the light.

I want you to understand what exactly does that mean.

First: April is aware how much Donnie is into human culture. He wants to study in normal human school, do some average teen stuff. Especially, he is loving school and science-related stuff, all these science school projects, visits to botanical gardens, experiments and laboratory work. Because it's his field. It's exactly his domain, where he's good at. His family does not share his interest in science, and April is only one who can understand him. Probably.

Also, April know, how badly Donnie wants to go to school, which gives him an excuse, even if not the most solid one, but an excuse, nevertheless, to visit her school again.

Why again?

Because he has no problem navigating there. Donnie went directly to April's computer class.

He loves this place. And he'd already helped April with her projects.

Even so, knowing that every time she asked guys, especially Don, for help, it turned into a cataclysm, April still called him to help.

It's just a weird, indirect way to say, " Let's hang out, I know how much you like this whole situation with science, school and etc. Here ya go, buddy"

It seems like April did that to make something pleasant to him, something small, but nice to make him feel better. Because, as I state before - he likes to help April (praise, doing something useful for April - still counts as a motivation) and he likes school.

Second: khem-khem, D came at her school, as it seems, right away she called/texted. He didn't even know the proper reason, but c'mon: April ask for help, plus, her school. Sounds legit, don't you think?

Anyway, April has always been being the reason and excuse for teetles, but especially for Donnie. Clear? Clear. Good.

Donnie also tends to not think things through when he is excited. Because he went at the daylight in place, full of people just to help April.

ROTTMNT shows us how turtles were really afraid of human reaction and possible consequences. They have plan "H" to pretend they are going to Galaxy Con, brothers have explanation why they look weird and it's definitely not because boys are mutants, uh-huh, no, plus, guys go on surface at evening or night hours, when there are not so many people, and it's dark, obviously, to cover them and keep unseen.

Yeah, of course, Donnie seems more capable then his brothers to handle the surface (he has cash, D's dressed up as old ladies more than once, according to Leo, he was in April's school before, so yeah, no big deal) and I suspect that his friendship with April is one of the reasons.

Third: do you remember how April worried about looking "normal" when she was finally invited to a school party? She even forbade Mayham to appear nearby, just not to look like the lizard boy. Because cool kids don't bring pets to school. April doesn't have many friends, or rather, there are none at school, and she's been trying to solve this problem by getting close to Taylor Martin, the coolest girl in school.

And April O'Neil just calls Donatello, an objectively strange guy (since when is it normal to be a fan of school? Pretty questionable) in place, where her reputation is hanging in a balance. Our girl does not try to hide Dee, as it usually shown in shows for kids, and April do not pretend that she sees him for the first time in her life because, you know, Donnie will catch everyone's attention being himself and may embarrass her in front of her classmates. But no - April says with all her actions: "Yes, I know him. Yes, that dork is with me. And I don't give a damn about your opinion. Your problems, not mine. And yeah, I'm fine with him being here."

I mean it, guys. The devil is always in the tiny details.

The way they behave around each other.

Donatello is way more, MORE relaxed and just being himself: dramatic dorky nerdy ninja with current obsessions. The way he sneaked in school and April's classroom, the way he behaves alone with her is contrasting the way of his attitude while his brothers are near.

Don has a specific way to shown up. Instead of texting her, Donnie used shurekens. Yes, he almost fell off the lamp, but still, that's... quite an entrance he makes there.

April worries about him, when he fell from ceiling.

Our girl feel relaxed enough around Donnie, so she winks at him.

A wink is a fairly casual gesture that shows some expression of sympathy, trust, and togetherness. It's both good for saying "We're in same boat, we're team" and show the playful attitude towards someone. Isn't that an indicator?

Ironically, that being the best friends April and Donnie do not have any secret handshake/brofist/special greeting, as it usually the besties have at kid's series. Like Kendra and Jeremy have.

I can do only one possible logical conclusion: their relationship is far beyond "friends," "best friends," and "family".

Btw, about this certain phrase about secret five.

- Nay, fair April. A secret five[...].

Once again, nice wording, Donatello. Fair April? Maybe I'm too critical, but often when someone wants to convince their interlocutor and at the same time show one's condescension to them, it's usually uses "my dear ..." or something like that. I understand that semantically the difference is not very big, but in the first case, you can feel Donnie's personal attitude, even though he uses a book word. The second is just formal politeness, which emphasizes the difference between the rightness of the disputants.

This phrase were interpreted on official Russian dub as (okay, it's really hard to choose the correct word, because there's a lot of synonyms in English that sits quite well, while on Russian it's just one word, damn) "Нет, милая (No, honey/sweetheart )". Actually, a strange choice of wording, 'cause this is not what usually friends use to say to each other. We prefer use words like " my darling", "my dear", to demonstrate leniency. And again, most often this prerogative belongs to the older generation. Russians rarely throw around such words as "honey", "dear", "sunshine", because this deprives these endearments of any meaning, and a person using them, as a rule, is familiar. Of course, there are people who use them on a regular basis, but I HIGHLY doubt that Donatello is one of them. It's not his style.

But still, maybe I just too critical at this point.

April, as it is shown, have some kind of power to cool and calm him down and bring Donnie back to life reality.

1. Don awakes from his daze while heard April's voice

2. He's literally coming back to life, when April said about his broken jetpack.

3. Dee obediently interrupts his touching farewell to the jacket when April yells at him.

Oh, and his face. I remind you, fellas, we're talking about Donatello, "I really do not like to express emotions"-guy and "I will die if someone broke my bAbEyS"-guy.

And what do we see? Donnie's emoting. And feels free to do that. He's even drooling. (What seems kinda interesting without context, if you're understand what I'm talking about ;))

Dee doesn't seem angry about broken jetpack. And his wide smile, while he's assuring April he can fix it? A few minutes ago, he was steamed when his stuff was stolen, but when the jetpack was broken, he doesn't even raise an eyebrow. Very eloquent.

April is his support

April also supports Donnie whatever he's up to. Yes, she hadn't been excited when Othello had expressed a desire to join the club. However, she also introduced him to Kendra and company. Yes, she showed by her whole appearance that she did not share his joy, but nevertheless, our loyal captain O'Neil was there for him, by his side all this time.

And her sweet facial expression. From "Srsly? Join this jerks?" to "If you dare to even think about to hurt him, I'll smash you".

And one more cute detail about Dee. Even if he does whatever he wanted so badly, Don constantly looks around at April, looking for her approval.

- Be honest, April, do I look fantastic, or SUPERBLY fantastic?

- You look like you drop a juice box in a laundry. (Play nice, April, don't be mean)

He cherishes her opinion.

April had even called him late at night just to, technically speaking, say that his tech were stolen. And what's the big deal with all his outfit? It's late night, they can just sneak out into Nakamura in their usual form. But noooo, April give a special ride on her bicycle. Just. You know. Our girl carried her own weight and his all the way without stopping. And then she went up 53 + floors running non-stop because Donnie's equipment was stolen. And then she had to chase the her classmates, dodge and jump out of the window. Because Purple dragons stole Dee's tech. Like shooting fish in a barrel, no big deal at all.

And it's definitely not because he will be totally crashed or he'll do stupid things during his anger, which will then come out sideways.

And April comes along with him to very end.

By the way, their phone conversations.

Donnie is the very case when "Call at any time of the day or night and I will pick up the phone".

When April called him when he needs D's help with Albearto, when something is definitely going on behind.

As it says in transcript of the episode:

[April takes out her phone, scrolls to Donnie’s listing and calls him. Donatello appears on screen. Behind him a flying microwave wearing boxing gloves shoots lasers at his brothers.]

Don: "You are conversing with Donatello."

April

[Crouched on floor in hiding.]

Dude, I need your help."

Don: "For you, anything. As long as it does not involve bees, or spiders, or beach balls.

[There’s an explosion behind him and his brothers cry out, which he ignores.]

And yeah, he took her incoming immediately, he ignores absolutely and totally everything around him, because... April? Expositions, bloody flying microwave bot turned to destroy mode, his brothers screaming and being in life-threatening situation? Naaah, it can wait.

Donatello was at Todd's, building "the puppiest place on Earth" and was very enthusiastic about to finish this thing. But he paused anyway to answer April.

We already know how obsessive with work Don can be: if something interesting gets into his field of view, he begins to do it all day long. Remember "The Purple Game" - a very revealing case. Yeah, we weren't shown how much Donnie is into engineering, but I can guess that point remains the same.

April called him at late night and Donnie picked up the phone.

April, unlike Donatello, is a teenager who is burdened with social relationship such as family, school, and work periodically, which implies a more or less strict schedule to follow and some conventions, such as " April, you can't go out late at night to catch robbers, you are underage and you have to go to school/work tomorrow). However, she was watching the news late at night, so she called Dee. ( I have a lot of questions, but I'll never get answers, as it seems)

D, in turn, doesn't have so many contacts with the outside world. I highly doubt that anyone else outside of the family and April has his number. And yet, when he hears the call late at night he takes it. Yes, he had awaken from the nightmare, but still.

And what's up with his usual "You're conversing with Donatello"? He didn't even understand what's going on, as it seems, he's too sleepy to play his usual image and playfully attitude as we could see in "Hypno Part Deux" and "War and Pizza".

Adorable couple-like D&A arguing

April very rarely uses "I told you so" against anybody, or rather, this is almost the only case. This phrase is more suitable for Leo or Donnie, and you know," I told you so! " we usually use on people we know well, and we want to tease 'em about them being wrong. Which, in fact, once again highlights and proves how close D&A are. And I don't even get started about the fact that this is more like a couple's quarrel, not a friend's.

And one more time - in the end, when April suggests using the jacket to stop Kendra.

Their teamwork

I stated that before, I'll tell it one more and more times. The chemistry of their team interaction is incredible. It's as if they can feel each other, and each knows what the other is capable of doing in the next moment. April easily adapts to Donnie's attack, realizing his plan.

Donnie also throws them both out of the window in order to continue the pursuiting Kendra on the jetpack. Don is one hundred percent sure of April, that she will understand what he wants to do, Dee trusts her with his life without hesitation, and she has never used his jetpack. He just puts her before the fact: April will be using the tech.

Up for Donnie!

I really like how this scene was made. Donatello struggles with his own tech, somewhat he made by himself, having invested almost whole himself and his soul, but what "betrayed" him in end. When Dee finally managed to shake one of his battleshell, which almost choked him, Donnie feel so scared and unsecured. We can see his anxiety - Dee's coaching position with covering his head with his hands and tucking his knees.

Defenseless, helpless, and mostly lost, and then, just in time - hero comes to save his life. She uses Donnie's name as battlecry, look how furious she is.

Funny fact: on Russian dub April yells "Don't touch Donnie! (how dare you, madafaka)

April fits in Donnie's type of girls. She's cute (obvious) and mean (not so obvious).

I can't say that meanness is the main feature of April's character, as we can say about Kendra. But this personality trait is still present in her and sometimes it does not manifest itself so widely. April's meanness is not so pronounced, it is much softer and smoother, and it is not exposed.

But April becomes really mean when someone messes up with Donnie.

She's his support and prop. Literally. Just look at first frame, okay-okay, jokes aside

She's genuinely enjoying of kicking bad guys ' asses, even letting go of witticisms and barbs.

Last scenes

Don survived a rough night: he was used, his tech was stolen, so he and April had to chase the satin robed punks. Donnie was hit in the head with a hammer, he fell from a bird's-eye view, passed out and then his battleshell tried to strangle him. And April is here to comfort him, to cheer him up.

Yes, we don't get any hugs (because it's kids show, bleh), the tactility is kept to a minimum, except for April's comforting hand on his shoulder, but they don't even look at each other. But the softness of her voice, the intonation with which she utters a phrase (that is usually sent to the friend zone, but "pal" is really neutral word, and the most important how she said that) turn the scene upside down. It is not what April did to comfort him matter, it's how she did this.

I said "yes" to you way too often

April mirrors Donnie with his "Anything for you". Yes, of course, she said this with a certain amount of grumbling, but her voice and her demeanor suggest otherwise - she is not at all averse to going to giving in him.

And the way they're look at each other.

This one

And one more detail

It's really tiny, it's hard to catch from the first watching the episode, but still, it's possible. I'm talking about graffiti on the walls of the alley where April and Don had landed.

This one

Yeah, if we speak about reality it's quite normal to see graffiti like this. But we talking about TV-series, where everything has its own place and meaning. And if there something, it must be there, it's not just whim of artist who put it in there. But this little graffiti changes the mood of scene.

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chiliiscereal · 3 years

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Chosen last: part two

Rottmnt x reader

Summary: reader worries that their new friends are becoming exactly like their old ones, unaware that they’re ditching them to prepare a surprise

Platonic, of course!

Part one: https://chiliiscereal.tumblr.com/post/650808822043115520/chosen-last

———

“I’m SOOOoO gonna beat you, Mikey!” You gloated, smashing your fingers over the remote buttons and narrowing your eyes at the tv.

“Ha! In your dreams, baby!” He responded gleefully. He leaned forward and concentrated harder than you’d ever seen him.

It was your annual video game competition. Once a month you and the turtles (and April of course) have one day dedicated to seeing who was the video game champ.

Mikey won last month, Donnie won the month before, Leo won the three months before that, and Raph came close but April defeated him.

You were absolutely determined to win this month.

Surprisingly, Leo was on the couch behind you and rooting for you.

“Go y/n! You got this!” He shouted when your video game car passed Mikeys. He even jumped out of his seat, nearly spilling the popcorn.

“Why are you rooting for y/n??” Mikey accused lividly. “I’m your brother!!”

“Y/n hasn’t won a single competition! Besides, you won last month!” Leo smirked, sitting back down. “It’s hilarious to see you this worked up.”

“Oh you and Dr. Delicate touch are gonna have a looooong talk later.” You snorted.

“Hell yeah he is!” Mikey growled.

Before you could say anything else, Raph entered the room.

“Hey, guys, sorry to cut things short but... Dad needs us to clean!” He blurted out quickly. “Sorry y/n but you should probably go.”

You waved him off, shutting the tv off. “Oh, I can stay and help!”

“No! I mean, it’ll just be boring trust me.” He intervened and took the remote from you hurriedly. He even grabbed your arm and pulled you off the floor. “You don’t want to help clean! It’s fine!”

“Hold on, we have to clean?” Leo groaned. “We cleaned last month!”

“Yeah, why aren’t we fighting Splinter on this?” Mikey stood in Raphs way when he tried to push you out of the room.

You wriggled out of the red masked turtles grasp. “Come on! Don’t you want someone to help you debate this with Splinter!”

You were on the rats good side ever since you bought him the exclusive Lou Jitsu movie box. All the turtles knew this.

Why didn’t they want you on their side?

A small part of you whispered past insecurities but you brushed it away.

Raph sighed, clearly nervous. “Guys we gotta do... the thing. We gotta clean the thing!” He looked at them as if searching for help.

“What thing?” Leo narrowed his eyes.

“The THING. You know?” Raph cleared his throat. “You don’t want to know, y/n. It’s super gross.”

You placed your hands on your hips, suspicious.

“You know... the thing April mentioned a while ago?” Raph tried again, making some loose gestures that you couldn’t really understand.

Somehow, though, Mikey and Leo caught on.

“Ohhhh, the thing!” Mikey exclaimed and immediately began clearing away the snack mess that had been left from the video games.

Leo joined him. “Yeah! Dude, you don’t wanna be here to clean the thing.” He shoveled as much garbage in his arms as he could. “You can just head for the door and come back later! You know, when we don’t have to clean?”

Hesitantly, you grabbed your bag. “Okay..?”

What was this thing they had to clean?

Did they really think it would gross you out?

And why did it take them so long to catch on?

Whatever. It was probably more shenanigans. It didn’t mean anything.

“Alright then,” you stepped away from them slowly, “I’ll just head out.”

The turtles stood in their spots stiffly and waved goodbye.

You rounded the corner to walk over to the ladder, unsure of what to think.

They didn’t normally act like this...

But maybe Splinter just really wanted them to clean?

But why weren’t you allowed to know what the Thing was?

And April apparently already knew about it...

Maybe it was just that you were still relatively new to the friend group.

Yeah, that made sense.

Before you could touch the ladder you heard voices.

Two voices.

Coming from Donnie’s lab.

Well, might as well go say goodbye to Donnie right?

You shouldered you’re bag and headed over, standing in the doorway and knocking on the wall so he’d know you were there.

He and April were both sitting together looking at a computer.

You didn’t even know April was there! Well, she might get kicked out for cleaning day to. Maybe you could both do something together!

The duo looked up, panicked, and Donnie quickly shut the computer off. “Ah! Y/n! I didn’t know you were here!”

You frowned, a little hurt. “Today was the video game competition? I was here just like the last... five months?”

April gave you a too wide grin and shut the laptop. “Well! What... uh... what brings you to the lab?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Raph and the others kicked me out cause they need to clean a Thing? They said it was really gross, and I came in to say bye to Donnie and maybe see if you wanted to go get ice cream or something?”

April turned to Donnie, wide eyed. “Well... I... I can’t exactly... I have a...”

“She has to help clean the Thing as well!” Donnie filled in for her.

Now you were really confused. “But... Raph said it was too gross for anyone other than family.”

“It’s fine!” April waved you off. “But let’s get ice cream later! Okay?”

You gave them a small wave and turned around. “Yeah... okay.”

———-

That Saturday you found yourself walking down the street with one of your old friends.

She wanted to get frozen yogurt and had a coupon for a “buy one get one free”.

Normally you’d have said no. But the turtles AND April denied you every time you asked if you could hang out!

So you said yes.

Just like old times.

“I’m SO sure Jake likes me.” She grinned to herself as she typed away on her phone. “Hope you don’t mind but he’s gonna be at the frozen yogurt shop with us!”

“Oh.” You mumbled. “I thought it’d just be you and me.”

“It’s fine!” She waved you off. “He’s nice! He’s not like the last guy... uh... what’s his name?”

“The guy who told me I was a prude or the guy who told me I looked better with makeup?” You couldn’t help but spit out bitterly.

“The first one.” She eyed you strangely. “And what’s with you today? You’re more pessimistic than usual.”

“That one was Brian. And I’m fine.”

She turned back to her phone, the two of you weaving through the new York crowd.

You’d rather be with the...

The turtles?

You stopped, hearing familiar voices coming from the alley.

“How could you forget!”

“You think I just meant to?!”

“Maybe!”

“Guys, shut up, it’s not a big deal, okay? There’s still time to figure this out.”

“Easy for you to say! You’re just gonna make up another lame excuse and leave!”

“I will not!”

“Can’t we just wait for April in peace?”

“No, because RAPH forgot about-!”

You cleared your throat and entered the alley.

The boys were huddled together, arguing. Quickly they jumped apart and tried their best to act normal.

“Heyyyyy, y/n!” Leo gave you awkward finger guns. “Didn’t expect to see you here!”

Mikey looked like he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You were suddenly less excited to see them. “Hey’ didn’t expect to see you guys either!” You bit the inside of your cheek nervously. “What’re you... what’re you doing here? I thought you were too busy to hang out?”

“We are!” Donnie nodded. “Very busy.”

“Yeah and dad grounded us from hanging out with people so-.” Raph added, only for his plan to fall through when April showed up from behind them.

“Guys! I got the-!” She stopped, spotting you. Whatever was in her hands she hid it purposely behind her back so you couldn’t see it. “Y/n!”

You fixed them with a small glare. “Too busy to hang out?”

You didn’t want to sound clingy or desperate, but now it just felt like they were going out of their way to avoid you.

“Well, you know, April doesn’t count! She’s practically family!” Raph chuckled.

That was enough for you to make a decision.

“Well, I’m kind of with a friend right now! I’ll... I’ll just talk to you guys later.”

You backed out of the alley, surprised to find yourself looking forward to meeting the new boy your friend was chasing instead of seeing whatever goofiness the turtles were up to.

You’d survived without them before.

Surely you could survive until whatever this was passed.

———-

“Hey girl your birthday’s coming up!” Your friend mentioned at the lunch table the next day. “I’m Definetely taking you bowling! We’ll bring all the girls, maybe even Jake!”

You didn’t even like bowling.

You didn’t even like Jake!

He was just like all the other boys she’d dated.

But it was better than just sitting at home and waiting for the boys to explain their recent behavior.

“That sounds great.” You muttered, stirring your salad half heartedly. “Can’t wait.”

You went back to sitting with your old group since this whole thing started.

You didn’t have anyone else to sit with! April would disappear during her lunch hour and say she just was going out to get lunch, but she never did that! Ever!

A part of you believed that maybe they finally realized you weren’t worth being friends with.

Maybe you were always meant to be the hermit.

“You excited?” One of your friends asked. “I am! I’m gonna invite Jaxon to go with me and I’ll get dressed up-!”

You tuned them out immediately.

What was the point.

They were talking about it like it was their party.

Not yours.

Just like every other year.

———-

Another day went by.

You found yourself with those same girls again.

They were planning the ‘bowling birthday party’ and coordinating rides. But, of course, there was no room for you to carpool with them.

“Hey, y/n!” April shouted across the lunch room.

You debated about ignoring her, and then debated about just getting it over with.

Ignoring her seemed easier.

“O’Neil, what do you want.” One of your friends asked almost boredly.

Crap, April was right behind you.

“I just wanted to talk to y/n!”

You didn’t bother turning around.

“I know you heard me. Why aren’t you sitting at our table?”

You clenched you’re fists under the table. “You haven’t been here, April. Besides I have other friends.” You finally turned to face her.

She narrowed her eyes.

But, not from anger.

“Well... I’m back now!” She grinned, placing her hand on your shoulder. “Also, Mikey wanted to know if you wanted to have ice cream with the guys later tonight?”

One of your friends burst out laughing before you could even answer. “This Mikey guy is real?”

Another one snorted. “Who’d have known?”

You tried to laugh it off.

You really did.

But that proved harder than you thought.

April placed her hands on her hips. “Excuse me? What do you mean by ‘who’d have known’?”

“You know what y/n’s like!” The friend beside you waved her off. “She hardly talks to anyone! He’d probably think she’s boring.” She turned to you. “Right?” She elbowed your side when you said nothing, as if she were joking with you.

You straitened your lips into a thin line and nodded. “Yeah... right.”

“So, when we go bowling for your birthday, do you think Jake will like my blue dress or my-?”

April slammed her hands on the table. “Hold on, you think this is all some game?”

Your friend shrugged. “We’re just playing with her! She knows it’s a joke!”

“Was it? Cause I couldn’t tell!” April huffed.

“April, drop it.” You mumbled. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!” She nearly yelled. “You guys haven’t been a good friend to her at all! You forgot her birthday present last year and you make her walk everywhere-!”

You stood up from your seat. “I said stop, okay?”

Surprisingly, she did.

“It’s fine. Just leave it alone.” You walked over to the trash can and dumped in your long forgotten food.

She frowned. “Fine, if you don’t want me to do this, I won’t.” She walked next to you, casting a look over her shoulder at your table. “Even though I’m right.”

You said nothing.

What could you say?

“Hey, I... I gotta go talk to the guys.” April bit her lip and glanced at the door. “Can you possibly come to the lair? Tonight? Around... five?”

You set your tray back in the pile with all the other dirty ones. “Yeah, I can try.”

“Great thanks!”

April was out of there faster than you could say ‘hot soup’.

————

Wouldn’t you know it, five o’clock rolled around.

You didn’t want to go.

You really didn’t.

Well, you did, but you honestly thought this was going to be them ditching you.

All the signs were there.

Instead of over thinking you decided to just go. Don’t even think about it.

You arrived at the lair quietly, taking your time stepping down the ladder.

All the lights in the kitchen were off.

All the lights in their skating room was off.

By now, it just felt like this was one big joke. Did you misinterpret April? Did the guys even know you were down here? Ugh what if they were doing this just to laugh at you?

Finally, you got to their living room.

You clicked the light on.

“SURPRISE!!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the four boys, one girl, and one rat dad jumped out.

Confetti?

Cake?

Even a happy birthday banner?

Decorations with your favorite colors?

Your favorite movie ready and waiting to be played in the tv?

“Ha! Look! Y/n’s speechless!” Leo chortled.

“Happy early birthday, dear friend!” Donnie waved to showcase the room. “April told us your friends were having a bowling party on the actual day, and that you probably needed a little something fun, so here we are!”

“We got all your favorite things, facts checked by the master!” Raph patted April’s back.

“We even got your favorite video game from the store!” Mikey bounced over to the tv and picked up the disc case.

“We have cake, baked by me, and your favorite sodas!” Splinter gave you a toothy rat grin.

“And as for the gifts,” Raph chuckled guiltily, “you kind of caught us trying to get them at the store! April told us it was coming up but we forgot and had to rush to get things ready.”

You...

You honestly didn’t know what to say...

You didn’t have any words!

No one had ever done this for you before.

No one.

Not even the friends that you’d known for years.

A small tear slipped out against your will as you brought your hands to cover your mouth.

“Hey, what’s the problem? You’re supposed to be happy!” Leo dropped his party hat and rushed over, brothers behind him.

You wrapped them up in the biggest hug you could give them. “Thank you so so so much! I... no one has ever done anything like this for me!”

The family gladly returned the gesture.

“Ah, so they’re happy tears. Excellent.” Donnie nodded to himself. “You are happy with this, right?”

You released them and stepped back. “Definitely happy tears.”

April draped her arm over your shoulder. “Well then, what are you waiting for! Let’s get started!!”

That night was probably one of the best nights of your life.

For once, you weren’t chosen last.

You weren’t the extra.

You weren’t the plus one.

You weren’t taken for granted.

Let me know if you have any ideas for a part three! Possibly one where the turtles find out about the readers friends? 😏

@magicalfrickingfish

#fanfic #wattpad #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt raph #rottmnt oneshots #rottmnt leo #rottmnt imagine #rottmnt headcannons #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt #tmnt raphael #tmnt x reader

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me, part 10 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

“If you don’t talk to me, I’m not going to leave you my keys.”

Annabeth looks at Piper from behind the loom, glaring through the threads. “Then you won’t come back to ten bolts of fabric.”

In fairness, it was sort of an empty threat. Piper has all the good stuff: the surger, the embroidery machine, the industrial sewing machines, plus a million sources for fabric that aren’t Annabeth’s stress weaving. Annabeth only has her own shitty sewing machine at home that she’d gotten for Christmas when she was fourteen.

Also, Piper wouldn’t actually lock her out. She needs those fabrics.

“Why don’t you just not go?” Annabeth says. “If you stay, I promise to tell you all the gritty details.” She’s joking, but the second she says it, she’s hit with a strange wave of desperation.

She wants to tell Piper all the gritty details. How she had giggled and smoozed and looked so pretty on Luke’s arm, tattoos and undercut and everything else so carefully concealed. She never wanted to tell Thalia the gritty details. The dirty ones, sure, particularly when the dirty things didn’t involve Thalia’s beloved younger cousin. But she had spent two years, two hard painful years, hiding vast swaths of herself from Thalia.

She thought of the night of the gala, of Thalia telling her family she knew Luke from college. NYU. They’d been actors together.

Annabeth hadn’t been the only one hiding things.

It had stung, in all sorts of ways.

Piper stares, narrowing her eyes. “How dare you tempt me into giving up my creative retreat for gossip.”

Annabeth shrugs. “It’s one or the other.”

The glare at each other, stubborn as all hell.

Piper throws up her hands. “Fine. Just make my fabric and call Leo if you’re having another crisis.”

The truth is, she will tell Piper. Eventually. She knows she will. It will probably be in eight months, when she gets back, when hopefully the shame of her false life and the devastation of losing Percy has lessened, but she will tell her. But eight months is a long time. “I do have other friends, you know.”

“Then call Luke. Or Thalia.”

It takes absolutely everything Annabeth has not to wince at the names.

She would never have told Thalia. Not really. Even things like this, even if it hadn’t involved her. Thalia wasn’t… good at relationship stuff. Not like Piper. And she never knew all of Annabeth’s romantic history--not like Piper did, anyway.

And it wasn’t just romantic relationships.

Annabeth might have been able to share her pain, and share her pain with Thalia, but it had, in many ways, only been a surface level thing. Thalia saw her pain after Annabeth’s mom had rescinded her approval of her life, but she'd taken Annabeth’s silence as the end of the matter, and responded to it by acting out, and arguably drinking too much.

But they never talked about her mother. They never talked about Thalia’s, either, and if there was something Annabeth learned from Hazel’s gala beyond how unfairly handsome Percy was going to look in thirty years, it was that there was a lot going on there.

It is a little hurtful on reflection. Making her feel less close to Thalia, but also less guilty about what she never said. And less willing to accept her reactions.

Her emotions have been all over the place the last few weeks.

Piper notices, because of course Piper notices, but she is an angel, and has known her for a long time, so she doesn’t badger her too much. She also doesn’t mention that Annabeth’s measurements all seem to be off. Not even to say something about beauty at every size or her well publicized efforts for diverse bodies in fashion.

But it was still nice to spend time with her. It felt like the old days, staying up too late making the next thing in fashion, and then passing out together, surrounded by bobbins and bagels, Gossip Girl playing on TV.

It did make Piper’s impending departure that much harder, though.

Two weeks into November, she meets Piper and Leo for dinner, and then sees Piper off to JFK for her eight-month creativity retreat in Oklahoma. “You know, like how you decided you couldn’t have a doorman for creative reasons,” she’d said with a raised eyebrow when Annabeth had questioned the move. Piper likes to treat the last two years of Annabeth’s life like some sort of creative exercise. Her dad had done that too, once, when she bothered to answer his call.

Not that she’s not doing anything other than helping Piper pick stitches, and sewing hemlines Piper is too important to deal with herself. She wishes that earlier estimation had been true.

Since the gala she’s been living on Uber Eats at Piper’s, unless she gets bullied home, in which case it's the same but less varied selection with more meat, so the night out with Piper and Leo the night before Piper’s flight feels like a radical departure from the norm. Even though they just go to dinner.

Which does not stop her from feeling hungover the next morning.

“You had half a glass of wine last night,” Leo points out from the door of her bathroom.

“I remember,” she agrees when it lets up for a moment.

“If you get me sick,” he says, “I’m sending you the doctor's bill.”

“Fair,” she chokes out.

Leo doesn’t hug her goodbye, but he does tell her he hopes she gets better before heading back to Boston.

Annabeth, hugging porcelain, wishes she could go with him.

She was very seriously considering it a few days later. Magnus would take pity on her and Alex was always fun to hang out with. Plus, they’d probably think she was too pathetic to be called on her shit. She only did not make plans to go up to Boston because on Wednesday Luke texted her: Already a shit week, brunch this weekend? And she knew if she ran off to Boston, she wouldn’t leave Magnus and Alex’s guest room until they forced the issue.

But it would be nice to talk to someone in New York City who doesn’t hate her guts, she thought.

So, on Sunday morning, she throws up the wonton soup she’d ordered in for dinner the night before, gurgles some mouthwash, uses the expensive concealer to hide the dark circles, and over does the mascara in hopes that she mostly looks awake.

“You look terrible,” are the first words Luke says to her.

“You have no idea how to talk to women,” she says, slumping down across from him.

“I do,” Luke says, “I just know not to bother with you.” But he frowns at her, taking her in. She’s broken out a Chanel jacket, but she isn’t sure when she last washed these jeans. A real winning combo, her.

“But really,” Luke says, “you look miserable. Is it about what happened on Halloween?”

She shrugs. It isn’t not that. Percy’s words still circle through her head, his sad, defeated face as he bemoaned the, how did he put it? All the rich girls who fucked him to make a point. Made all the worse because she believes them. Probably not the same points as those princesses, but… probably not as different as she would like.

She wonders if Europe is full of very wealthy aristocratic women who are all secretly and shamefully still in love with Percy Jackson. And Frank Zhang.

It makes her feel hollow and nauseous all at once.

But she’s been feeling nauseous for weeks now, so at least it's not a new feeling. If it keeps up, she’s going to have to go to the doctor soon.

She hates going to the doctor. It feels like cheating when she just goes and pays and knows other people can’t. She had once lied to Thalia about getting money for a side gig, and then given her two hundred bucks for a trip to the clinic. Now that Annabeth has spent many hours in his cousin’s apartment, and has heard Nico talk about his yearly income on top of the money his dad gives him, she’s not sure how it came down to her.

“Not really,” Annabeth says, “I mean, I still feel just as terrible, but that’s mostly the problem. I feel sick.”

“It's been three weeks.” Luke looks genuinely concerned. “What’s going on?”

“I’m exhausted and nauseous all the time,” she says, groaning at the thought. She was okay right at this moment, but she knew it could come back at the drop of a hat.

Luke frowned at her. “That’s all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I mean…” He looked at her, his eyes gazing lower, to her body. Luke had never really come on to her in any kind of real way. But she’s not sure he’s ever looked at her with less lust than he does right at that moment.

It is calculating. She’s gained some weight, she knows. But if Luke points it out, she’s going to kick him in the nuts with her steel toed boots. Or maybe make him explain himself and his relationship with Thalia.

“Annabeth,” Luke says, his voice lower, a frown on his face, “please don’t freak out.”

She can feel her heart pick up, just a bit. “That’s a terrible place to start.”

“Have you been feeling… emotionally volatile lately? Having a lot of mood swings?”

She frowns. She’d maybe been crying a little more than normal at sentimental hulu ads, but she always has a soft touch for that kind of thing, and she’s going through some stuff. “I don’t think you should ask a woman that.”

“You are really not going to like my next question, then.” He leans close and says, “Are your… breasts tender?”

“You’re right, I don’t like that question,” Annabeth says, crossing her arms over her chest. Even though they are. “I don’t know why you thought that, and how you knew.”

Luke looks at her with such pity, she feels like she’s suddenly eighteen years old again, and crying on his couch at the end of freshman year about the greatest heartbreak of her life. (It had moved to second place. Lucky it. The boy in that bar had only been theoretical, mostly.)

Luke reaches out, grasping one of her hands, and for a second, Annabeth is sure he is going to tell her that she’s dying.

“Have you considered you might be pregnant?”

She yanks her hand away. “I can’t be pregnant,” she says. “I haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“Have you had your period since then?” Luke asks.

“Not that it's any of your business,” she says, “but I haven’t had one in years.” They do talk about sex sometimes, but periods had long been off the Luke table.

Luke grimaces. “Well, you’ve been sexually active recently…”

“It’s been more than a month!”

“When did you start getting morning sickness?” Luke asks “You were throwing up at Halloween.”

“That wasn’t in the morning,” she snaps, “and I feel fine now.”

“You know morning sickness doesn’t just happen in the morning,” Luke says. “And with the rest of your symptoms, well--”

She shakes her head, glaring at Luke. His judgement would have been better than his patient mansplaining. “You think I don’t use birth control?”

Luke shrugs a little. “I mean… you’re… not great at things like daily medication. That’s what happened last time. And if a condom broke or you didn’t use one…”

Last time. Oh, last time. Last time had been the worst four hours of her life, in between realizing that she hadn’t been remembering her birth control pills every day, that her period was a few days late, and that she’d definitely been having unprotected sex with that boy in Luke’s cohort who was probably too old for her. Last time had been her having a panic attack on Luke’s Cambridge apartment couch while a very reluctant Leo was sent to buy a pregnancy test or twelve, and Piper reassuring her via speaker phone that it would be ok, while Luke rubbed her back and reminded her to breathe.

“I do remember what happened last time,” she says. “That’s why I got an IUD. Which, if you don’t know, from all your girlfriends' pregnancy scares, has the same failure rate as permanent sterilization, less than one percent. So…” So it would be okay. She couldn’t be pregnant. That’s why it had been okay for Percy and Annabeth to start fucking without a condom.

“When was the last time you got a new one?”

“August.” She says, thinking back. She was almost sure. “I remember because it was before the Eta thing--Leo called me to tell me about the ceremony while I was at the gyno.”

“So you were distracted and being a bad patient when they were trying to put it in?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

But she won’t give Luke, of all people, the satisfaction. “They are professionals. They should know what they’re doing, even if I was on the phone.”

Luke gives her his most disappointed dad face. It is worse than Annabeth’s own father. “You’re the one who always tells me I need to not make people’s jobs harder by being a bad client,” he quietly reminds her.

She fucking hates him.

But despite herself, she pulls out her phone, and begins googling misplaced IUDs and pregnancy.

They haven’t even ordered yet, but Luke is already standing up, probably based on the look on her face as she manages to fight through the dyslexia and figure out what it says. “Come on,” he says, helping her out of her chair, even though she’s not an invalid. She just might be pregnant.

She pushes that thought away as she follows Luke into a cab and then up to his apartment. He makes her some tea and hands her a banana while he goes to get her a pregnancy test, because Luke’s not quite shameless enough to have one at home. She waits for him in a living room straight out of American Psycho and reads up on IUD pregnancy complications online. Which she probably should not have done.

By the time Luke gets back, she is crying again. He’s gotten her 3 tests, which is very considerate of him, as she’s going to need them.

Walking into the bathroom, she’s shaking hard enough that she needs to brace herself on the wall. He lets her use the nice one off his bedroom, though it's not like she needs the jacuzzi tub.

When she’s done peeing, she sets a timer on her phone and sits on Luke’s bed. He tries to speak to her several times. She doesn’t respond.

It isn’t the longest ten minutes of her life, because the truth is, she knows.

She already knows.

When the alarm goes off, she shrugs off Luke’s arm and silently walks back into the bathroom.

Luke got a digital readout, because what else was he going to do. And so she looks at the little screen and just barely processes the word pregnant.

She doesn’t need to take the other tests. She doesn’t need confirmation or to be convinced.

She reaches down and pressed on her lower abdomen, lifting her shirt. She had noticed a slight change. But she’d also changed a lot of her daily routine lately, had eaten a lot more ice cream. Right now, she can’t see any kind of bump, not really, but she can see a shift. Something flat gone fuller.

Annabeth is pregnant.

Annabeth is pregnant with Percy’s baby.

Percy’s baby.

She bursts into tears all over again.

An eternity later, there is a knock on the door.

“Annabeth,” Luke calls, “can I come in?”

She manages to choke out a yes.

Luke finds her sitting on the edge of the tub. He looked at the test still sitting on the counter.

“Let me make a call,” he says, sitting next to her, resting a hand on her arm. “I know a doctor. He can get you a pill or maybe even see you if you need it. Probably today or tomorrow. We can get this all taken care of and then I’ll buy you ice cream and we can watch Legally Blonde, and you can complain about how it doesn’t accurately reflect the admissions process.”

Normally Annabeth would pre-complain, and point out that given Elle’s GPA, LSAT, and extracurricular activities, she would have been a shoe in for her program, and the movie was dismissive of her prior academic achievement. But she’s too busy parsing what Luke is saying.

He squeezes her hand in support. “It's going to be okay,” he says, sweetly.

“No.” She says. But not because it won’t be okay. “No, I’m not going to have an abortion.”

“It's okay,” Luke promises. “I would never judge you. And no one else would ever have to know. This isn’t something you have to do.”

“I know that,” Annabeth says. “I don’t have to do anything.” She detangles her hand from Luke’s and rests it on her stomach, where her uterus waits under her skin. “I want to do this.”

Luke looks at her hand. “Poseidon Olympianides’ son?” he asks. “That’s the father?”

She nods.

Blowing out a breath through his teeth, he sighs. “Well, you’ll be able to get some good child support out of him at least. That family is loaded.”

“Don’t say that,” she nearly screams, and Luke actually jerks back a little. “He doesn’t have any money. He’s his dad’s bastard kid,” she says, feeling a little bad about revealing his family history, but knowing that the word would spark something in Luke. “I don’t know if I’m even going to tell him.”

It feels like something cheap and shallow, trapping a man with a lie, then a baby.

She’s still crying and tentatively, Luke reaches out and wraps his arms around her, pulls her to him.

“Come on,” he says, pulling her up. “You still need ice cream and a movie.”

Annabeth cries. And she doesn’t fight him, but it feels so strange. Half way through her Caramel Sutra and the Legally Blonde proshot, she realizes what’s different.

For the first time since Percy walked out of her apartment without a good-bye kiss, Annabeth Chase is happy.

She’s pregnant with Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s going to have Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s not sure if she’s ever heard anything as wonderful in her entire life.

And if she’s going to be worthy of it, worthy of her baby, then she’s going to have to get her shit together.

#my fic #ballet au #pjo #pjo fic #percabeth #percabeth fic #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #goooooooooooooooooooood morning all!

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another-tmnt-writer · 4 years

Text

You Fell From the Sky - Part 2

Leonardo x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

Summary: After falling from the sky and landing literally in the arms of your favorite turtle, it takes some adjustment to live in another reality, but with the help of the leader in blue, you’re getting used to it.

Note: Let it be known that I wrote the first part of this before I knew reality shifting was a thing, but now that I know it is……let me tell you, I am tempted…

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1.6k

It had been three weeks. Three whole weeks living in the lair. You were over the moon. Honestly, it was spectacular. However, after three weeks without a phone charger (you’d been using it very, very sparingly and had it turned off most of the time) your phone was now at one percent. So, you popped into the lab, where Donnie was at the moment.

“Hey Donnie?” You asked tentatively, standing in the doorway.

“Oh, hey (Y/N)! Can I help you with something?” He asked, his voice friendly. He looked up at you, giving you his full attention from whatever he was working on.

“Um, do you have a phone charger I can use?”

“Of course!” He pulled open a drawer on his desk that was absolutely filled with charging chords of every time, meticulously organized with twist ties. “What kind do you need?”

“iPhone.” You said.

He reached into the drawer and handed you a ten-foot chord. “Here you go.”

“Thank you!” You smiled. “What are you working on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind!” He scooted over to let you see his screen. “I’m working on figuring out how to open an interdimensional portal right now. Sorry it’s taking me so long.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is literally groundbreaking work. You’re a genius, but I definitely didn’t expect you to do it overnight.”

“Well that’s reassuring.” He chuckled. “I’ll keep you posted. Don’t want to keep you here any longer than we have to.”

You knew he was kidding about the last bit, but your heart sank a little when he said it. You liked being at the lair. You liked spending time with the guys. Sure, you wanted to go home at some point, but you wished it didn’t have to come so soon.

“Thank you, Donnie.”

You left the lab to find Leo lingering just outside. He looked concerned, his arms crossed, head tilted, blue, blue eyes focused on you. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“No reason. You just seemed a little down.” He answered. He stared at you for a moment before remembering, “Oh, April is here. She brought you some more clothes.”

“Awesome. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged, leading you back out to the living room, where Mikey was ranting about something to April and Casey while Raph listened and shook his head.

You stared at each of them for a long moment, absorbing. Megan Fox and Stephen Amell were standing like twenty feet away from you. It was overwhelming to say the very least. “Holy shit…”

“Hi! You must be (Y/N). I’m April. This is Casey.”

“Hockey puck has got a bit of a chip on his shoulder, but he means well.” Raph elaborated.

“This is so insane.” You laughed, smiling at them. “It’s incredible to meet you. The boys…told you where I’m from, right?”

“Yeah, they did.” April nodded. “That must have been quite the jump.”

“It was. I’m still…getting used to it, I guess.”

“Well, take your time.” She nudged Raph playfully. “They take some getting used to.”

“Hey!” Raph scoffed, nudging her back. “Ya took some getting used to yourself, O’Neil.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much.” Leo said, his eyes sparkling. “I think you’re fitting in just fine.”

You ignored the way your heart raced when he said it, replying with a smirk, “I agree.”

***

It was later that night. You were in the kitchen, baking with Splinter’s permission. He was in his room drinking tea and the boys were out on patrol. That was the other thing. Every time they left, you felt empty. You knew they’d be fine, but there was always a little bit of worry nagging in the back of your brain. What if they…weren’t?

So: stress-baking. The recipe of the evening? Chocolate chip cookies. They were a classic you were sure the boys would like. Your hair was up in a messy bun and you had some tunes playing from your phone. You scooped out the balls of cookie dough, setting them in careful rows on the pan before sticking them into the hot oven.

You baked for a few hours, rotating trays until you had a batch big enough to feed four hungry mutant turtles, their father, and yourself.

You switched off the oven, and right as you did, you heard their voices echoing through the tunnels until finally, they entered the lair.

“Good night?” You asked hopefully.

“Better now, angelcakes.” Mikey winked and then stopped in his tracks when he saw the steaming pile of fresh-baked cookies. His eyes widened and he gasped excitedly. “Are these for us?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, she bakes, too, Leo.” Raph teased, reaching for a cookie in time with Donnie.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” said the turtle in the purple bandana.

“Of course.”

Leo went in for one last, still reeling a bit from Raph’s comment, his cheeks rosier than usual. He said softly, “Thank you for doing this.”

“Thank you for letting me crash here. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you guys finding me when you did.”

“It’s the least we could do.” Leo insisted.

“Alright, quit yer flirting. Let’s all go watch a movie or something.” Raph insisted, walking out towards the TV. The rest of you followed, and of course when you and Leo went to find seats, the only two that were left were right next to each other.

You settled in, blushing a bit. Raph had a smug smirk on his face.

“What?” You challenged, causing him to chuckle.

“Nothin’.”

As it got later, it also got colder, and you soon found yourself shivering the slightest bit, wishing you’d thought to grab a blanket before the movie started like the rest of the guys had.

“Are you cold?” Leo asked.

Instead of telling him you weren’t like you wanted to, you nodded. Without hesitation, he pulled half of his large blue blanket onto your lap, letting you share his warmth. As if you weren’t blushing enough before, he just had to be a gentleman and fluster you even further.

“T-thanks.” You could have punched yourself for stuttering, but Leo didn’t seem to mind. He still kept a polite distance from you, his leg a good few inches from yours despite the blanket that was draped across you both.

You were quiet for the rest of the movie, and when it was over, Raph went to work out, Donnie retreated into his lab, and Mikey went to his room to scroll through TikToks on his phone. That left you and Leo sitting awkwardly under the large blue knitted blanket you were sure Raph had made. Maybe it had been a Christmas present or something. You weren’t sure.

“Not to give you déjà vu, but I’m sorry about Raph.” Leo chuckled. “I asked him to stop, so of course it only got worse.”

“I really don’t mind.” You told him, meeting his clear blue gaze. “That’s what brothers do, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess it is. Do you have any siblings?”

“No, unfortunately. I’m an only child. Grew up with my aunt because my parents couldn’t be bothered to actually parent.”

“Mmm.” Leo hummed, nodding.

“I guess that’s probably why I latched onto the idea of you guys so much as a kid. I liked the idea of a sibling bond like that. Working together as a team. Having a built-in group of friends to hang out with.”

“It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but we do work well together.” Leo agreed. “When we’re not bickering, that is.”

You were quiet for a moment, mustering up courage before you said, “He’s right, though. Raph, I mean.”

Leo stared at you, his eyes widening in half-realization. “What…how…what do you mean?” His voice cracked when he asked it, his heart pounding.

“Well…Leo, I’ve had a crush on you since I was fifteen years old; I doubt it’s going away anytime soon.”

He looked at you in shock, pretty sure he’d hallucinated what you just said. All he could reply with was a shaky, “On me?”

You laughed. “Yes, Leo. On you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I’m not even supposed to exist here.”

“I do. Feel the same.” He blurted. His statement was quick, but it was firm. Carefully, he took your hand in his large, green, three-fingered one and he was reminded just how different the two of you actually were. He was about to let go, but you squeezed his hand reassuringly. He laughed at himself, slightly embarrassed to be floundering in front of you, but it was out of his control. “I’m sorry, I’m new to this.”

“That’s okay.” You smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I promise I’ll do my best to make you happy. Just let me know if I’m doing something wrong. I’m learning, after all.” His thumb rubbed the back of your hand. “And I know that…at some point you’re going to have to go back. But…I’m willing to make the most of whatever time we have.”

“Me too.” You nodded. A yawn slipped from your lips. It was getting late. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sun was already up. “I think it’s about time I got to bed.” You told him, standing up and setting the blanket on the couch.

Since you’d been there, the boys had created you a makeshift room of your own in one of the giant pipes in the wall, a little one with your own mattress and some bedding Raph had whipped up for you.

Leo stood up too, towering over you as soon as he did. You stood on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Leo replied, smiling at you like you’d put the moon and stars in the sky with your bare hands. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You echoed, walking off towards your pipe, a new kind of warmth swirling around in your chest.

#leonardo x reader #leonardo imagine #leonardo #leo x reader #leo imagine #leo #tmnt #tmnt imagine #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014

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hyenahunt · 3 years

Text

Werewolf - 3

Writer: Nishioka Maiko

Season: Summer

Proofreading: 310mc (JP)

Translation: Bella & hyenahunt

Natsume: Just look at Jun-kun. You're leaning against him so much that he's starting to go sideWAYS. Poor THING.

[Location: Seisou Hall Common Room]

Hiyori: You have my utmost thanks for not voting me off! And with that, my victory is decided!

Shinobu: Hooray! Our werewolf team's come out on top~!

Eichi: My, and I thought they were harmless… They certainly pulled the wool over my eyes.

Sora: Haha~, game over! That's a win for the werewolves~♪

Rinne: Dammit… If you hadn't hung me first, we mighta had a chance of winnin'.

Yuta: Excuse me? We all thought hanging you was the safest thing to do, okay? Makes sense, since you're the absolute worst and all. Why're you even so full of yourself to begin with?

Rinne: Damn, kid, ain't it obvious! It's 'cause no one else on the villager side's got smarts and skills like me!

Yuta: Yeah, yeah. Save all that sleeptalk for when you're snug in bed, 'kay~?

Natsume: Good GRIEF… It's that kind of idiotic behavior that cost us the GAME.

I didn't think someone born with a silver spoon in his mouth would be so good at this, THOUGH. I wonder if being rich made him so wickED?

Jun: Right? Ohii-san, that didn't seem like your first time at all.

Hiyori: Heheh ♪ It was an absolute piece of cake~

All the same, it doesn't feel too great to play such a cruel game. A foul weather...

Sora: Cruel…?

Natsume: Big talk from someone who had the time of his life fooling us ALL.

Jun: Is this game really that cruel? Personally, I think it's fun and easy to understand.

Sora: What makes you think that, Dazzling-oniisan? Sora wants to know!

Hiyori: Well I mean, that's it, isn't it? Playing this game requires you to think anything and everything could be a lie. Doubting your own friends is just how you start making progress.

Make a single mistake and you'll be made an example of, and once you are, you have no choice but to be eliminated.

You doubt and deceive your own friends, and despite knowing that one word from you could decide their fate, you up and say it anyway... Isn't that rather cruel?

Natsume: Hmph, how ludiCROUS. It's just a GAME, that’s why we can take it eaSY. Confusing fiction and reality like that is just nonSENSE.

Or WHAT, do you actually think that mystery writers are murderers in real LIFE?

Hiyori: Of course I'm aware of that. That's why I said it doesn't feel too great, but the game itself is fun and all.

This game may be built upon a foundation of cynicism, but I much prefer happier things and the ideal of inherent goodness. Those make a much finer weather ♪

✦✦✦✦✦

[Location: Seisou Hall Dorm Room (Leo, Natsume, Nazuna)]

Jun: I haven't been getting any good cards for a while now~ Every pull you’ve swapped with me has wound up in your favour, huh.

Natsume: Yup, seems like I'm in luck toDAY ♪ I must've taken all of YOURS.

Jun: Seriously~? C'mon, gimme a break.

Ah, my turn's over.

Hiyori: ...Is it just me, or have the two of you been getting closer lately? Natsume-kun. Don't you snatch Jun-kun without my permission, got that?!

Jun: He’s not, though. Even if I was being snatched, why would anyone need your permission for that?

Natsume: You KNOW… You're just barging into my room and saying whatever you LIKE, Tomoe-senpai.

Jun-kun's the one who dropped by and said he wanted to play a game in the first PLACE.

I've got the game he wanted to try so badLY, so I'm just playing with HIM.

Hiyori: In that case, Jun-kun's the naughty one here!

Jun: Why.

Hiyori: It's a beautiful thing to form bonds, but it's no good to wag your tail at just about anyone. You ought to have more dignity!

Natsume: ...AnyWAYS, Tomoe-senpai. Would you please stop trying to squeeze between Jun-kun and I?

There's plenty of room elseWHERE. It's too cramped like THIS.

Hiyori: I simply feel like sitting here, you see. I'm just exercising my freedom of choice ☆

Natsume: Just look at Jun-kun. You're leaning against him so much that he's starting to go sideWAYS. Poor THING.

Jun: I can barely even see the screen since he started this.

He's bored 'cause we're ignoring him, so he's being a pain to get back at us.

Hiyori: Never mind all that. Jun-kun, I'll have you know I'm hungry.

Jun: Geez, ignoring me the moment you don't wanna hear something, huh... Well, that's Ohii-san for you.

So? You're hungry, right? But if you eat at this hour, Ibara's gonna pitch a fit, y'know?

Hiyori: That viper's always spitting his venom everywhere, so I shall simply pay him no heed!

Natsume: Come to think of IT, it's already TEN… I was so absorbed in our game I didn't even noTICE. We've been at it for a WHILE...

Jun: In that case, shall we call it a night soon?

Hiyori: Yes, yes. Now then, Jun-kun, let's be off right away for a late night snack!

✦✦✦✦✦

[Location: Seisou Hall 1st Floor Passage]

Natsume: Then maybe I'll go to the kitchen TOO.

Hiyori: Hm? What's this? Natsume-kun, you're heading for the kitchen, too? Will you have a late snack with us?

Natsume: No WAY. I thought I'd just get something to DRINK.

—Hm?

Sora: ......

Natsume: (There're people outside… Sora and Kaminari-san? Did they just get back from WORK?

It seems like they're in some sort of deep conversaTION…?

I've almost never seen Sora look so seriOUS… It's different from when he's giving his all at WORK. What could have hapPENED…?)

Hiyori: Whatever's the matter, Natsume-kun? Don't just stand there zoning out — I'd like to hurry over to the kitchen at once!

Natsume: (I'm worried, BUT… Well, I'm sure it's FINE. It's probably not a good idea to pry too MUCH.)

I’m coMING.

✦✦✦✦✦

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#hiyori tomoe #jun sazanami #natsume sakasaki #sora harukawa #shinobu sengoku #eichi tenshouin #yuta aoi #rinne amagi #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars translation #s: werewolf #era: !!#type: scout #status: complete #hyenahunttl

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Beyond the bay part 16, What Lurks?

Summary - Leonardo assesses Mikey’s physical and mental state.

Tags - @selfindulgenz @brightlotusmoon @ilo-artistry

Content warnings: Medical exams, medical assessments

Everything was wrong. Wrong and so very dark. Mikey felt as if the clouds had fallen from the sky and come to settle in his mind; yet, despite the mental lag that weighed on him like lead, his body felt impossibly light, almost drifting. He had to find them; he had to find his team! But he felt like he was suffocating, like there was hundred pound weight bearing down on his chest. There was… something that he was wading through. Something that shifted and rippled and flowed around him like a cool, moving blanket.

He had to find his team. He had to get back to the mission! He had to find that mutagen and he had to find his way! And… he had to wake up…

“Ow…?” Mikey opened one eye, and then the other as he was suddenly and acutely aware of strong fingers digging into his muscles. His head was throbbing with a steady thump thump thump.

“Mike.” Donnie’s voice was breathless and urgent, but nonetheless gentle as he momentarily paused his massage in favor of more important exams.

“Ah— again with the light?” Mikey whined and raised a hand to cover his eyes as Donnie shined his flashlight in them.

Donnie returned to the painful massage. “Do you know your name?”

“Mikey…”

“Do you know where you are? Do you know what happened?” The more questions Donnie asked, the more pressing his voice became. When Mikey didn't respond, Donnie repeated himself louder and clearer.

Mikey could only sputter. He knew he should know those answers, but when he reached out to grab them, they slipped through his fingers like sand. His eyes grew wider, and he shook his head. Why couldn’t he remember?

Leonardo was there too; Mikey didn't notice him until the red eared slider moved directly in front of him and waved a hand. The motion made Mikey focus on him, though at the time there seemed to be more than one of the blue-clad ninja, like Mikey was seeing double.

Leonardo, as opposed to Donnie’s bombardment, only asked a single question. “Can you tell me who is best turtle?”

Mikey’s face wrinkled in his concentration, and then split in a grin. Now that he could remember! “Trick question, it’s me! I’m a triple threat: brains, brawns, and a dazzling personality.”

Leonardo couldn’t have smiled wider if he tried. Now that Mikey could focus better on the room around him, which slowly came back to him as the infirmary, he finally located the source of the thumping that he had thought was just in his head. He saw Donatello hanging in the background, the young mutant looking blatantly bored, like he’d rather be doing anything else at that moment. He was bouncing a tiny, purple ball against the wall, catching it, and then bouncing it again in a steady rhythm. Unlike the other turtles, he didn't seem to notice nor care that Mikey was awake; his only acknowledgement was to Mikey’s self-declaration of being best turtle.

“Well that is too bad, because I am a quadruple threat.” Donatello bounced the ball one last time, then caught it as he made his way over to the group. “Strong, funny, amusing, and hilarious.”

“Aren’t three of those just synonyms?” Donnie questioned without looking up from Mikey’s tensed muscles.

“You.” Donatello said. “I do not like you.”

“But I like the confidence!” Leonardo declared, and held out his hand to Mikey. “High three!”

Mikey was all too glad to meet the inviting gesture— that is, until his hand seemed to faze through Leonardo. Mikey frowned, and then he tried again with the same result. He missed? If Leonardo noticed Mikey’s confusion, he didn’t show any reaction to it. Instead, he grabbed Donatello’s ball, much to the grievance of his twin, and tossed it up in the air a few times.

“D’ya wanna play catch?” Leonardo offered, his smile slight and soft. He grabbed the ball between his thumb and pointer finger, showing the tiny rubber toy off to Mikey. “Might help you concentrate~”

Having something to do with his hands did help. Mikey nodded eagerly and held out the arm that wasn’t currently being assaulted by Donnie’s therapeutic rubbing. Leonardo swung his arm back and forth a few time, allowing Mikey the chance to focus before Leonardo tossed the ball with a careful swing. Mikey’s eyes followed the ball as it glided smoothly through the air, and he raised his hand to catch it. It slipped right through his hands.

Mikey blinked. His eyes pinched together as they searched and eventually found the ball on the floor rolling away from him. He missed? Again? Now he had a tight pain in his chest, one that refused to go away. A ball of discomfort and anxiety and fear that grew bigger and bigger, trying to force itself up his throat to choke him.

“Are you playing tricks?” He didn't know why his voice sounded the way it did, like a child who hadn’t yet found the confidence to speak up.

Donnie frowned at the weakness of the voice, gently cupping Mikey’s head in a hand to tilt him back and examine his throat. Mikey gave a low churr of disapproval, but didn't resist.

“No tricks!” Leonardo said, and he held up his hands as a show of surrender. He held that stance for a few seconds more before gathering the ball from where it had fallen and placing it back into Mikey’s hand. “Okay, now you pass it to me.”

Donnie backed away from Mikey to let him have space while the younger box turtle stuck out his tongue and tried his best to focus on Leonardo’s shifting figure. It was like a filter had been laid over Mikey’s vision. A filter that made Leonardo seem as if he were in constant, blurred motion and made his voice like something at the end of a cavern.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Came the echo of Leonardo’s voice, so distant and lost to Mikey’s ears. The tunnel was so dark, and the sewage was up to his knees and uncomfortably warm. He breathed, but it burned so he did it as little as possible. For the republic, he had to keep moving. Mutagen was fuel, mutagen was life, and there was mutagen in this dark place. He just had to get back to Commander Mozar and find it. Mozar would know what to do. He was hand-picked by the prime leader himself!

There was someone calling his name. His commander? No, someone more familiar, more like a brother. Zog? No… no that wasn’t it either.

“Leon…?” There was a slick, cool hand pressed over Mikey’s forehead.

“Hey, bud.” Leonardo said, and he was smiling; Donnie’s face was turned into a tight frown. “You zoned out for a sec. All good?”

“Head hurts…” Mikey swatted Leonardo away and tried to sit up.

“Hey hey hey hey!” Leonardo didn't let Mikey get very far, “Easy. You need to lay now.”

“No… no we need to find him!”

Leonardo cocked his head. “Find who?”

“I… him!” Was all Mikey could offer, “He’s scared and alone.”

“Where is he?”

“I… I don’t know!” Mikey knew he should know but he didn't, and in retaliation against his own mind he began to repeatedly strike himself right between his eyes. Donnie intervened before he could hit himself more than twice, forcing Mikey to lower his arm but only making the box turtle more frustrated.

“Mikey, take it easy.” Donnie tried, but Mikey didn't seem to care about doctor's orders. He started to try and resist Donnie’s efforts to keep him still. “Little help here?”

Leonardo was hesitant to lay a hand on the thrashing Mikey, but when he finally found a hold, he pressed down firmly on the older turtle. His attempt to restrain the mutant wasn’t very effective, and when Mikey was able to stand, Leonardo pulled back and simply let Mikey leave while Donnie kept trying to stop him.

“Ge’ off!” Mikey shook his shoulders trying to dislodge his brother.

“Mikey, what—?” Donnie was unrelenting.

“GET OFF!”

Mikey got as far as the doorway before he was picked up around the middle and carried back inside by Raphael, holding the shinobi like he was nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. He laid Mikey back down on the bed and Donnie skirted around the snapping turtles shell, grabbing Mikey’s arm to keep him still while Mikey tried to shake the grabbing hands off of him.

“Mikey, if you don't stay down I’m gonna have to strap you down.” Donnie said with a voice even and placid.

“What happened?” Raphael’s lips pulled into a frown, his hand going down to feel Mikey’s forehead.

“I don’t know, he just freaked out.” Donnie said calmly. He ran his hand across Mikey’s cheek and made soft, shushing noises intended to sooth. “How is Yoshi?”

“Yeah, he uh… he’s fine.” Raphael said absently, his head nodding along with his words, “Just hate to think how long he was alone for…”

“Mikey, do you know where dad went?” Donnie asked softly; Mikey seemed calmer now, no longer resisting his bedrest, but his teeth were still bared to show his discontent. Donnie sighed. “Guessed not.”

Raphael laid a hand on Donnie’s shoulder and prompted the box turtle to look up at him. “He can’t have gone far. Maybe he just wanted to explore a bit.”

“He wouldn’t just leave your father here alone.” Donnie sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re probably right.” Raphael admitted. “Your Leo’s probably going crazy.”

Donnie closed his eyes and, ever so slowly, leaned his head back as he sucked a deep breath through his nostrils. Then he lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to nurse a growing migraine.

“I’ll go talk with him. Can you sit here with Mikey?”

“Of course.” Raphael said with a patient nod, sitting beside the bed and resting a hand over Mikey’s plastron.

Donnie left the two younger turtles in charge of his brother while he left the room in search of the oldest. He first found Michelangelo and Raph in the exercise room; the massive box turtle practically had steam rising off of his muscles from the heat of his body, slick with sweat and eyes focused determinedly on the ceiling above him as he worked his reps. Michelangelo wasn’t exercising, but he seemed to be having a good time hanging onto the bar while Raph lifted it so he could dangle and swing like a monkey. Donnie felt his migraine only worsen as he slumped against the doorframe, rubbing his eyes with enough force to make stars dance in his vision.

Raph had been in that same spot since they had made the discovery of their fathers absence several hours before, and Donnie could practically smell the frustration and understand it too, because he felt the exact same way. He needed to go and find his father before something awful happened, but he couldn’t leave with a clear conscience with Mikey in the state he was in. When it came to the choice of which was more important to him…

Donnie shook his head. Mikey would always come first. He and his brothers had agreed on that when they were little, and that agreement would live as long as they did. Splinter was strong and Splinter was capable, and right now Mikey needed them more. All of them.That didn't make the worry for his dad any less burning.

“You gonna say something?” Raph’s voice rumbled, “Or just stand there starin’?”

Donnie laughed, but it was a half-hearted and weak laugh. He shook his head and didn't bother to answer the question verbally. He simply walked into the room to stand over Raph; the middle child didn't pause his reps, not even for his brother.

“How’s Mike?” Was Raph’s next question.

Donnie almost naturally reached out an arm so that Michelangelo could climb onto him, and Michelangelo was more than happy to do just that. He swung on his friends arm with happily, monkey-like giggles while the other brothers retained composure and hardly reacted to the childish games.

“Awake.” Donnie said, “Confused. Raphael and the other Leonardo are with him now.”

“Good.” Raph kept pumping, eyes focused.

Donnie sighed. He carefully picked Michelangelo off of his arm, one of his hands enough to completely engulf the box turtle's plastron, and placed him on the ground. He stepped over the smaller mutant and grabbed Raph’s bar, yanking it pointedly from Raph and replacing it on its shelf. Raph’s eyes sharpened, snapping to Donnie and ready to give him hell before he saw the icy, cobra look in Donnie’s eyes. Instead of yelling, or saying anything, Raph simply sat up and shouldered his way past Donnie. They didn't need to exchange words for Donnie to know where Raph was headed.

Donnie shook his head once more before grabbing Michelangelo, who had his arms up asking to be held. He carried Michelangelo the rest of the way back to the infirmary; Raph was there, kneeling on the ground beside the bed and holding Mikey’s hand in his. He was talking slow and soft words to his youngest brother, words Donnie couldn’t make out, but the intent was there. Donnie plopped Michelangelo down on the floor and turned back around, leaving the rest of his family and continuing his search for Leo.

He found his eldest brother in the zen room; the room itself wasn't very well-maintained, once teal paint peeling off the walls and plants that were either overgrown and swallowing the walls of the room or dead at the root. The dead ones were the fault of none— being so low in the sewer, access to any sort of sunlight was a scare rarity that growing such plants were always difficult. For the rest of the plants, it was sheer neglect that led them to grow as immensely overpowering as they had, seeking any glint of light to sustain them. Leo sat in a lotus position in front of a green pool, just as neglected and forgotten as the plants, though it seemed to be from natural deterioration and not any contamination from the sewage around them.

“Hello Donatello.” Leo said without bothering to open his eyes or drop his position. “How is Michelangelo?”

“He’s okay.” Donnie sat beside his brother; his long legs weren’t built for the lotus position, so he just sprawled out and got comfortable. He had the feeling he was going to be here for a while. “Are you?”

Leo took his time to consider the question, rolling potential words around on his tongue before he settled for something that felt right. “I am dealing, considering. If Michelangelo is well, then we should think about going after father. Is that why you’re here?”

“Yeah.” Donnie nodded, “Everyone’s sitting in with Mike to keep him company.”

Leo nodded slowly and finally opened sapphire eyes. “Then perhaps just us two should go. Let Raphael and our friends stay here with Mikey. We can move faster on our own.”

Donnie couldn’t help but agree with that, but there was still a twinge of doubt that refused to be ignored. “These aren’t our sewers, Leo. We should bring at least one of the Hamato’s to lead the way.”

Leo considered. “Alright. We’ll take the other Leonardo then. Perhaps his sense of direction is as good as mine.”

Leo’s sense of direction had always been advance, far more than his brothers. You could place him in the heart of a maze and within minutes he would be able to find his way back out again. He knew he would be able to navigate these sewers even with what little knowledge he had of them, but Donnie’s anxiety was never something to ignore. Leo took a final, sharp breath before standing, inclining his head ever so slightly toward his brother.

“Let’s go now. No time to waste.”

“But— but Leo, we can’t take both me and Hamato Leo, we need a medic here in case Mikey has another fit.” Donnie reasoned.

“Fine, then we’ll take the other Donnie.” Leo decided promptly, waving for his brother to follow. Donnie obeyed.

“What about other Raph? It might help to have some extra muscle if we find ourselves in a pinch.”

“Uh.” Leo looked down at his bicep and, just for good measure, he flexed to make the muscles more defined.

“You know what I meant.” Donnie’s eyes rolled, but he pursued the issue no further. There was very little time to do so even if he wanted, because already they were entering the med bay.

Mikey had his eyes closed, lips pulled down in a tight frown as he stretched his head back as far as his neck allowed. Despite the position, Donnie knew he wasn’t asleep; he knew his brother too well to assume such things. All eyes turned to them as the two entered, and both older Splinterson’s could feel the shift in energies tingling their skin.

“What’s up?” Leo asked.

Donnie’s instinct was to immediately go to Mikey, doing a quick check of his vitals and finding them as steady as they had been when he left. Donatello seemed to be the only one of the turtles who wasn’t entirely on edge, taking the time to yawn and stretch before pulling out his phone and pulling up an article. He held his phone out where the older brothers could see that it was a current article posted just hours before, the headline bold enough to catch anyone's attention.

DINOSAUR SEEN IN SEWERS

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bay turtles

19 notes · View notes

saphie3243 · 4 years

Text

First Solstice

For my Secret Snowflake @tomtenadia

Nesta spends her first Solstice sober in Illyria, unable to bring herself to brave the inner circle celebration for a second year in a row.

Word Count: 5500+

Read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297182

There was something soothing about a room being so crowded it became hard to breathe. Better still when the music was so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Best when bodies are grinding, booze is flowing, and something to smoke is being passed around. Everyone was here for the same reason, everyone wanted a distraction. Amren had made several comments that she couldn’t believe Nesta got males to go home with her when she smelled like sweat and a distillery. She apparently didn’t understand that everyone smelled the same at places like this.

The band was better than usual. The music was… actually good. Maybe that’s why the bar was extra packed today. Or maybe it was because Solstice was tomorrow and no one wanted to think about all the ways they’ve disappointed their families this year.

Disappointing. The male she dragged into the bathroom was just that. He wasn’t even worth the time she wasted not getting another bottle of wine. She didn’t even let him finish before booting him out and stumbling back to her favorite stool. The bartender knows her by now and has mulled wine waiting.

It’s warm and more mulled than wine. She nodded to him. They know how to take care of her here, she certainly spends enough. Leo is decent enough to warn her off of the less than savory types that might be interested in more than even she was willing to give. She sighs back into the glass. Why she felt the need to judge herself when tomorrow she was going to get 5 times over from Feyre and insipid little family was why she needed another glass.

She turned around in her stool, facing back out, watching the crowd move in a formless mass. This band had changed over. The new one wasn’t nearly as good. Several months haunting bars and clubs to all hours in the morning had provided Nesta a proper sampling of Velaris’ bands, and, in her mind, gave her a liberty to criticize as she saw fit. This crater-faced crooner was pitchy and couldn’t move a room if he winnowed them. That earlier one had a woman out front. She was unusual for a Fae. She was beautiful, yes, but she wasn’t the wispy waif most fae women were. She was tall and built, covered in a layer of extra fat that filled out wonderful curves and jiggled when she danced. But that wasn’t what made her remarkable. Her voice took your heart by the ears and pulled you into the emotion she wanted you to feel.

“Weird compliment, but I’ll take it.”

“Lor-Cass said you weren’t going home this year,” Emerie placed the breeches she was folding into a pile of identical wares.

“I didn’t go home last year, either,” Nesta swished the black liquid in her cup as she reviewed the ledgers. Last Solstice only served to remind Nesta how much of a stranger she was to her own family, to Feyre’s new one. She would never be able to call that debacle “going home.” This year, however, she could avoid Velaris. Being banned from the city meant Feyre no longer had the ability to force her into attending farcical family meals, no matter how pissy she was about it.

She closed the books with a sigh and placed them back into a drawer. “Numbers look good.”

Emerie moved her pile of pants over to their shelf. “Thanks for looking over them, I haven’t had anyone to check my math since dad.” Nesta nodded and pulled out the books and notepads Emerie kept hidden with her accounting ledgers.

She leafed through to the furthest marked page. “You didn’t get much further last night,” she commented.

“Ah, no time, had to process a big shipment.”

“It’s fine,” Nesta muttered. 5 words underlined. Not the most, not the least. She reviewed the best-guess at the words definition in Emerie’s notebook. Most were correct. She added pronunciation guides next to some. “Macabre means bloody, gruesome.”

“Why is there an R in it?”

“Because the gods are cruel.” She heard Emerie’s answering laugh. “You’re doing well though. We can probably move on to actually writing.” She didn’t really think it would be that hard for Emerie to learn to read and write. She ran this business - she was clearly whip-smart, just uneducated. It could easily be remedied.

“In the meantime, can you answer the orders?”

This little arrangement worked out nicely. Nesta lended her books and made her literate, meanwhile she would help out with store correspondence and would review the books. Reviewing the books was less about checking Emerie’s math - that she had a natural understanding for - and more about making sure each transaction had sufficient notes.

She took another sip from her night-black liquid. The best part of Illyria, in her mind, was this coffee thing. It didn’t grow locally, needing a warmer climate for the source plant to thrive, but it had become a staple in the tribes as a way to keep troops moving with minimal sleep. Hot and bitter, it really shouldn’t have been as pleasant to drink as it was, but she found herself unable to stop.

“When does Lo- Cass head down south?”

“He should be meeting everyone Solstice morning and be back the day after.”

“What are you going to do?”

Stare at the liquor bottles he filled with water to tease me. Drink my weight in coffee and stand outside Devlon’s house at 2 am sending waves of power over the door to fuck with him until some asshole walks by and works up the balls to ask me back to their place - or die of exposure. Whatever’s first.

“Not sure, why?”

“Would you… I don’t know… want to spend tomorrow with… me?” Emerie had approached the table, tapping her fingers with each phrase. Nesta looked her up and down. If it was anyone else, she would have thought Cassian put her up to it. But she was also alone for the holidays, and Nesta knew that was probably a much bigger deal for the Illyrian than it was for her. She had mentioned once that she didn’t have many people since her father died. Adding in that Emerie didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do... If she was asking, it was because she wanted to spend this day with Nesta.

She smiled at her friend, “Come over whenever.”

___

Dinner was hot and ready when she came in. Cassian always made sure that their meals were piping. His own way of combating the awful wet cold of Illyria. She had to wonder if part of it also had to do with keeping the fires low in the house.

Nesta kicked off her boots by the door and carried them to the fireplace. She set them down next to Cassian’s - the secret to warm feet, he’d said. Their coat rack was also by the fireplace for similar reasons. She gently felt the socks left hanging there- warm, thank the Wall. She pulled off her damp knits and left them in a pile on the floor while pulled on the fresh clothes. They went up to hang immediately after.

“Do you need to take every peg? Emerie’s store is only 5 minutes away,” Cassian called from across the house. He was standing in the kitchen with two bowls of stew.

“Five minutes flying, 25 walking,” she turned to him. “Through a foot and a half of snow.”

She pointed to the bottom of her dress and the crust of ice that had formed there. He grimaced.

“I would have picked you up if you asked.”

“Unnecessary.” She pulled the dress over her head and left it to hang on the coat rack. After months of living together, they had long overcome the initial discomfort with mild nudity. Not that she was anywhere near naked. She still had the chemise that ended at her knees, her wool sleeves, her knitted belly warmer, and a double layer of wool hose. She was more covered than either Amren or Morrigan on any given day. Finally in only dry clothes, she marched over the kitchen and took the bowl from Cassian.

Four months of living with Cassian in Illyria was… surprisingly easy. The mountains were peaceful, simple. The way of life here is more similar to the human society she grew up with than the magical speed of Velaris. Emerie was a pleasant discovery. She still wanted a drink, desperately, but the biting cold had a similar numbing effect if you stood out in it long enough. The worst part was being dragged out of bed at dawn for “training”. Though her training was less about learning to fight herself and more about standing around the training rink terrifying males while Cass tried to teach little girls to throw a punch.

Coincidently she hadn’t gotten laid in 4 months either.

“As much as I love seeing you in your underwear, you do have very nice, very warm leathers.”

“Bite me,” she said as she shoveled food in her mouth. She had made it this long avoiding putting those damn things on. She wasn’t going to cave now. No matter how much imagining the fur lining made her whimper.

He smiled down at her, making a point of flashing his teeth. “Gladly.” Whatever mischief was running through his thoughts cleaned itself up as he changed subjects. He was the other surprise. The animosity between them was turned down to a polite simmer. Oh they still bickered, and they flirted. They never said it, and God willing never would, but any edges of disgust in their banter had long been smoothed by fondness. “Az will be picking me up at 7 tomorrow. If you change your mind about coming with me, be ready to go then.”

“I won’t,” she answered, choosing not to tell him that she would be spending the day with Emerie.

Surprisingly, he didn’t push.

“Oh good, you’re up. I’m making breakfast, if you want.”

Nesta woke up in a bed that was far too clean to be her own. Her head ached, her throat was dry, and she was naked. She sat up and took in her surroundings. This room was not hers. She had less furniture and more piles of shit everywhere. She was trying to figure out how she got there when the door opened and a woman came wandering in.

Nesta recognized her as soon as she spoke and finally recalled the night prior. She was the singer for that band. They chatted each other up at the bar for hours, getting progressively drunker. By the time the bar closed they stumbled home - going to hers because it was closer. They jumped each other as soon as the door closed. It was a new experience for Nesta, being with a woman. And it was good. The singer sounded as lovely when she came as she did when she belted.

Staying for breakfast would be nice. Something real in her stomach to soak up the alcohol was very needed. And if she played it right, there was a chance for as lovely a morning as there was a night.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Nesta waited until her partner had left the room before she pulled on her dress and snuck out the window.

Lovely wasn’t what she deserved.

___

No training didn’t mean that Nesta didn’t wake up at first light. It just meant she didn’t need to get dressed. Part of the initial torture of first arrival was learning that Cass put her in an east facing room with larg windows on the walls - and refused to let her have curtains. Privacy apparently wasn’t as important as making sure she didn’t have oversleeping as an excuse.

She swore at the sun, as she did every morning, and felt around in the bed next to her. Before getting out from under the covers, she pulled on her fluffy robe. This little trick she learned back in the hut. Sleep with the clothes you’re going to wear if you want them to be warm in the morning.

She trudged out to the main room and kitchen, beginning the process of preparing breakfast. Another rule of the house, if you are up first, you cook first. Same for dinner and coming home. Lunch they were on their own. There was a housemaid when she first arrived, but… she didn’t last long. She found the tea kettle and set about making hot water while she poured oats into bowls. From their icebox - a box they just left sealed outside to let winter keep cold - she pulled out a package of cured bacon. The kettle whistled, and she used the entire batch to steep the coffee. The next round of water was for the oatmeal.

The shadows between the windows grew and darkened. Before he even stepped out, Nesta greeted him.

“I’m making coffee. Get a cup if you want some.”

“Thank you. I’ll take bacon, too, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s Cass’s money,” she answered, adding three more pieces to the griddle.

Azriel was the only one from Velaris that visited with any sort of regularity, mostly due to how closely he needed to work with Cassian. He would come up about once a week for updates or meetings or to winnow Cass somewhere. He had begun to make a habit out of arriving early to chat with Nesta. Sometimes he just came up to hang out with them. He probably only came up to spend time with Cassian, but since she was usually around, they included her.

No one else from the Inner Circle bothered to visit. Rhysand and Feyre came up once, but that… did not end well. Elain felt too guilty to come see the sister whose banishment she had consented to. Morrigan wasn’t even on the island, so it wasn’t a surprise she didn’t stop by. And Amren… Amren was keeping her vow to not speak to Nesta until she apologised to Morrigan. Something Nesta still didn’t think she needed to do.

Morrigan spent 4 nights a week at a gay bar. How the fuck was Nesta supposed to know she wasn’t out?

“Elain asked me to bring this,” he conjured a set of books and hand-knitted socks into existence, placing both onto the table while pouring himself a cup. The books were tied together with ribbons and decorated with small bows, clearly meant to be her Solstice present. The socks - well, Elain had taken up knitting sometime in the last year and had Azriel deliver a pair every time he visited.

“Why didn’t she just ask Cassian to bring it back with him?” Nesta scooped some brown sugar into her oatmeal.

The ever so slight blush on his cheeks told her what his answer did not. “She wanted to make sure you had a present for the holiday.”

“Because she knows how much I care about holidays,” and it had nothing at all to do with you leaving from her room this morning and it seeming convenient at the time. They wanted to be discrete, and Nesta accepted that - no matter how bad they were at hiding it. She poured in the hot water into her breakfast and stirred. “Any messages with that present?”

“The bacon looks done.”

“Azriel.”

He sighed. “No.”

Nesta tightened her jaw and moved the bacon from the stove to a plate, allowing him to have a piece. She wasn’t sure if she was more pissed that he didn’t have a message or that she was still hoping he would. Either way she was going to play it off. “I’m surprised they didn’t have you hock me about going, too.”

Az cocked his head. “Cass made it pretty clear you weren’t ready for that.” She snapped up at him.

“And what was his barometer for knowing if I was ready?” She sneered.

But Az only shrugged, well accustomed to playing referee for Cassian and Nesta by now. “You not wanting to go.”

Nesta was still thinking about Azriel’s answer by the time Emerie came over. She couldn’t decide if Cassian was being a presumptive ass or if he was being genuinely considerate. He had a habit of being both interchangeably. Like when he finally made his way to the kitchen, fully dressed and demanding breakfast. He added in some last minute jabs about coming back early if she got lonely as Az winnowed away with him. And even through the mocking tone, the message was clear. “If you don’t want to be alone, just say the word and I’ll come back.”

He still didn’t know she was spending today with Emerie then.

“Do you not own any decorations or do you just not like them?” she asked, looking around the room.

“What decorations?” Nesta strained in her thoughts, there was a lot of extra shit in Feyre’s living room last year…

“Solstice decorations.You know, candles, holly, garlands,” Emerie explained. It sounded like what Feyre had up - and what most of Velaris had up - but in all honesty she was not sober enough last year to make the connection that it was for the holiday and wasn’t just some seasonal nonsense. Emerie squinted at her and placed a wrapped box on the table. Presents!

Fuck. That’s right. Fae exchange presents on the Solstice.

“I honestly don’t know.”

Emerie squinted at her. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Nesta shrugged. “Humans don’t have holidays.” At most they had festivals, but they were distinctly not holidays, just an excuse to drink and dance with as many strangers as possible. The closest thing they had to a formal holiday was Treaty Day, and even that was not the intimate affair this seemed to be. She hadn’t even heard of a Solstice dinner until Feyre asked her to go last year.

“How do you not have holidays?” she asked.

“Holidays used to be very dangerous days to be human.” There were plenty of horror-stories around the suffering of human slaves on religious days. Whether they were being traded as gifts or killed as sacrifices... even if the stories were exaggerations, it led to whole-sale rejection of everything religious by human society.

“So you know nothing about solstice?” Emerie placed a hand on her hip.

“It is the longest night of the year.”

Emerie made it her mission to instruct Nesta on the finer points of an Illyrian solstice. First and foremost, every 5 years it was the last day of the Blood Rite. The theme of doing battle still continued in the other years, most tribes had hunts or tournaments for the men to mark the occasion. Women were expected to work the day to prepare for the night. The night of the Solstice was the only true peace Illyria ever saw. Solstice nights were for feasting, music, and dancing. Fighting after dark was strictly forbidden. Gifts were expected between families, friends, and especially rivals. It symbolized an acceptance that though Illyrians may compete with one another, they were still members of one army.

“Does this tribe have a tournament?” Nesta asked. Cassian hadn’t mentioned anything about it, or a feast afterwards, but he might not have thought her interested. Or ready, she thought ruefully.

“Devlon hosts a melee tournament. Puts all the entrants in the ring together and waits to see who comes out. The large feast at the end is prepared by entrant’s families,” Nesta knew she meant women in those families, “For the entrants and their families. Dad didn’t enter, so we would just watch the tournament and then spend the night at home.”

“Do you want to watch the tournament this year?”

“Yeah but you’re still in your pajamas,” Emerie laughed.

She watched by the door as Nesta dressed in her warmest clothes. Watching men fight on her day off wasn’t exactly Nesta’s idea of a good time. But Emerie wanted to go. And Cassian had tried to make the decision of whether or not she should go by not telling her about it, so that in and of itself made her want to go. Because neither were entering, and certainly neither were cooking, they wouldn’t be able to attend the feast after. But that’s just as well. A night back at the house with hot drinks and Cassian’s pantry seemed just fine to both of them.

The tournament took place in the training rings. Normally the 5 or so rings were roped off from one another, allowing different ages and skill levels to train separately. But today Devlon had taken down the separators, providing an obnoxiously large space for his melee. But it was needed. It seemed every one of Devlon’s soldiers signed up for the tournament. About 200 competitors, ranging from small boys to grown men. There were even some father-son pairs helping each other warm up in the ring.

Outside the rings, there was yet another crowd of voyeurs. Women and girls taking breaks from their preparations to watch, the merchant families - like Emerie’s, and the men too old and frail to compete anymore. Standing at the head of it all was Devlon, a poor-man’s Cassian. He caught wind of them walking up and immediately flared at the sight of Nesta before turning back to the tournament. Being a witch in Illyria had certain perks. Devlon’s apprehension being only part of it. The crowd parting for them, allowing them to stand at his side and have the best view, was another.

“Soldiers!” Devlon called as he stepped forward. All 200 men turned to him at attention, well trained by now. “You know the rules. No siphons, no weapons, no flying, no killing. You fall, you’re out. You yield, you’re out. You get knocked out of the ring, you’re out. The last men standing at sunset wins.” He raised his arm in the air, making it visible to all. He took one last look around the ring, took a breath, and dropped his arm and stepped back as he bellowed, “Lay on!”

The chaos was immediate. One of the younger kids, there without a father to hold them up, fell immediately. The rest were at each other's throats, kicking, punching, wrestling. Part of her was worried that the battle-royale would be too similar to the war. But without the clang of steel and the geysers of blood, she found this was more similar to the crowded dance halls in Velaris. Devlon, now standing next to the girls, kept his eyes on the mock-battle as he spoke. “I thought you’d be with Cassian today.”

“And miss a battle royale? Honestly Devlon, do you know me at all?” She smiled at him, relishing how he flinched at her grin. “Can’t help but notice none of the girls are competing.”

His jaw tightened. “The Solstice melee is not training. It’s tradition.”

“Now you said the same thing about the girls training, too, did you not?” Nesta had no interest in ever learning how to fight herself, and didn’t really care if girls trained or not. But there was a difference between choosing not to do something and not being allowed to do something.

“If Lord Cassian wants to insert his views here as well, he should be here to do it himself.” The harsh words were undercut by the bead of sweat racing down his cheek. He wasn’t wrong. That was part of the reason Cass was stationed up here full time. Changing the rules around women required full time intervention. In Nesta’s mind, it also required more input from the women, but that was a discussion for another time.

“Maybe next year,” Nesta yawned. She watched the battle progress. After the initial early eliminations, they had plateaued into a minor stalemate. Some alliances also became clear. Groups of friends or families fighting together, watching each other’s back, catching each other before they fell. She didn’t cheer as the crowd or Emerie did. Rather, her and Devlon seemed to be the only calm people there.

Then… something odd happened. One of the teenage boys fell suddenly. He didn’t seem to get hit particularly hard, for one. And secondly, he didn’t get back up. Both Devlon and Nesta leaned forward, looking closer. She saw it first, sniffed it out. Blood. The boy had been hit in the side and was bleeding from the wound.

“Devlon,” she said very carefully.

“I know, I didn’t see who did it.”

“We need to get him out.”

“His friends will get him out.”

She held her breath, watching. No one came. She hadn’t been watching him particularly, but she didn’t remember him teaming up like the others. The way they walked around him… “He doesn’t have friends,” she snarled. Even Emerie gulped as Nesta’s anger stirred the well of her power. Cass told her stories. Back when the shakes and cold sweats were unbearable, he stayed up with her and told stories, trying to distract her through it. Trading one dark truth for another. She told him about watching her mother die, he told her that he was alone for years until Rhys. A bastard that was left to fend for himself, potentially to die if he wasn’t strong enough. From the way they walked over this kid, he was the same. She needed to get him out of there. He was bleeding out and no one was doing a damn thing about it.

“We cannot interfere with the melee,” Devlon said, “it’s against the rules.”

“So is weapons, but someone clearly has a knife,” she spat. Devlon didn’t say anything to that. He just kept scanning the make-shift battlefield, searching. “There!” he shouted, and his green siphon flashed. Another teenager was plucked into the air by his wings. He kicked and thrashed, a small knife in his fist. Devlon pulled the kid to him, releasing his magic’s grip and decking as asshole as he got in range. The boy went down with just that one hit.

But the first boy was still out there. He was still bleeding out. Alone in a crowd. He was going to die. He was going to die in this little mock battle where killing was strictly forbidden. Was this why Cassian didn’t tell her about it? Did he have holidays like this? Did older boys gang up on him and try to kill him without anyone noticing? Was he left alone to bleed on his own?

“Nesta!”

Emerie’s voice was farther away than it should have been, and muffled by a crowd of idiots fighting with one another. She wasn’t entirely sure how she got here, but Nesta was standing over the fallen boy. As they registered her presence, one by one the soldiers stopped. “The witch.” “It’s the witch.” “Why is the witch here?” She ignored them all, kneeling down to the injured. He was pale and grimacing, having lost a lot of blood - still losing it, actually. The knife had gotten him just below the ribs, catching who knows which organs. Without another word she picked him up, allowing his head to rest against his shoulder and his body to rest on her torso.

She turned back to Emerie and Devlon, one watching with concern, the other pissed as hell. She stepped towards them, slowly, carefully. She didn’t want to jostle the kid’s injuries more than necessary. No one came near her as she walked out of the ring. At first she thought it was the same as the audience, that they were simply afraid of the witch. But a glance around gave her a different answer.

Her power extended around her in a sphere, creating barriers of ethereal flowing silver. The grass around her withered and died, and no man here wanted to see what would happen if they touched the walls of silver flames. When she got to the edge of the ring, the rope touched her power and rotted to nothing. She didn’t know how this boy still lived in her arms, but he was still breathing- barely. She spoke to both Devlon and Emerie.

“He needs a healer.”

“I’ll find Marta and have her meet you at the house.”

Nesta nodded to her friend and turned to walk the familiar path to Cassian’s house, her power dying down as she crossed the threshold.

Marta arrived at the same time she did. They set the kid down on the kitchen table as the old woman got to work. The boy did get stabbed, but only in the liver. It took longer than Nesta would have thought, certainly longer than the battlefield-healing she remembered from the war, but Marta was able to stabilize him and stitch him up. She left them with instructions to make sure the boy didn’t get infected or pop a stitch in the night.

“Not how you planned to spend the Solstice, I’m guessing?” Nesta asked.

Emerie tilted her head, “No but seeing every warrior in the village piss himself is worth it.” She slumped down on the couch. “We have a moment, want to open your present?” she gestured to the box on the table.

“Y-yeah, just let me grab yours.” Nesta ran back to her room. She grabbed the stack of books Elain bought her, still wrapped from this morning. Definitely a faux paus, but she would never know.

Nesta came back out with the present and set it in front of Emerie. “Happy Solstice.” The look of awe and excitement was worth it. As Emerie began to untie the books, Nesta began to unwrap her present. Under the paper was a long, thin box. She unlidded it to find a set of leather and wood hair pins - Illyrian style hair pins, made to not get cold in winter.

“Thank you,” she said, still admiring the etching on the leather thong.

“I’d thank you but, I think mine goes to Elain.”

“What?” Nesta whipped her head up to see the first book open on the table and Emerie holding a hand written note. She was clearly reading it but let Nesta snatch it from her anyway.

“So should I let you borrow the books or-”

“Shush.” Emerie laughed and paged through the first novel as Nesta read the note.

Dear Nesta,

I know you are still upset with me, and with Feyre, for sending you away. And you are right to be upset. You were there for me, after the Cauldron and after Grayson. You held our family together after Feyre left. And when you needed us, needed me, I didn’t know how to help.

I don’t know if it is the power or just my own knowledge of you, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I knew that if I tried to help, I would only fail. And that is not an excuse. Fear of failure does not make not trying ok, but it is what I did. And I am sorry.

I know putting this in a letter hidden in a book is still the coward’s way, but I don’t think I could face you if I didn’t apologize first. I hope to have Azriel take me for a visit after the Solstice if you would have me.

Your sister,

Elain

___

They stayed up most of the night, playing cards, reading, and watching over the boy. Nesta had planned to stay up the full night, but using her power that day and waking up at 6 am had taken its toll. She found herself drowsing into her cards. Around 3am, Emerie sent Nesta to bed, agreeing to stay up and keep watch. Nesta’s head barely hit the pillow before she was out.

She woke in darkness. Not odd for her. Waking up in the middle night was fairly common. But when she looked to her window, she saw that it was not night. There was sunlight shining behind the makeshift curtain someone had thrown over her window. She pushed herself up. Who?

“You’re up.”

She turned her attention to the chair on the other side of her bed. Cassian sat there, watching over her with an indecipherable expression. She sat up.

“When did you get home?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. It was down and knotted, unusual for him. There were bags under his eyes. “Last night, before dawn. Az brought me back,” he brought his hands together and looked at her. “Emerie told me what happened. You lost control again.”

“How’s the boy?”

“Petros is fine. I moved him to my room to sleep off the rest of the potion the healer gave him.”

“That’s good.”

“No, you couldn’t,” his hands gently reached out and lifted her face to look at him. “Why couldn’t you?”

Cassian moved to the bed, sitting next to Nesta. “You lost control for him.”

“I-I couldn’t just let him bleed out,” she explained, staring at a spot on the bedspread.

Because he reminded me of you. She didn’t know if she said the words out loud or not. But Cassian’s answering kiss was so soft, so gentle, so sweet, she didn’t care. She responded to his kiss in kind, her hand cupping his face, finally feeling those perfectly chiselled cheekbones. His tongue passed over her lower lip and she opened for him, inviting him deeper. She met his tongue with her own and wrapped her hands around the back of his head, pulling him closer. He grinned through the kiss, gently placed his hand on her shoulders, and pushed her back down on the bed.

It was the first time Nesta stayed for breakfast after.

___________

Tagging potential readers:

@perseusannabeth

#secret snowflake #Nesta Archeron #Nessian #Cassian #post Acowar #post acofas #elain archeron #emerie #Nesta and Emerie will be besties if it kills me #Nesta and Cassian adopt that kid.#Potato-burp is ask-able tumblr #so that one is in the exchange.#but my writing goes here so here we are #never posted fic directly to tumblr before.#weird

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wonder-womans-ex · 3 years

Text

The High Road

Chapter the Second: In Which Logan Begins to Realize He May Be Slightly Stupid

It’s dark in the carriage.

Or maybe that’s the blindfold. Logan isn’t sure. In any case, he can’t see, and he wants to.

It isn’t that Logan is afraid of the dark—in fact, the opposite is true; he finds it soothing in a way the bright light of oil lamps, or the sun, will never be—but he still likes to be aware of his surroundings. Being alone in a dark carriage with his kidnapper—however good-looking that kidnapper may be—is not doing very good things to his sense of security.

He yelps when the carriage jerks unexpectedly—going over a bump in the road, maybe, or perhaps a pothole—and causes him to hit his head on something that feels a lot like a window. Probably because it is a window.

Immediately, his hand flies up to touch the sore spot on the back of his skull. He hisses in pain, glad that his wrists aren’t bound behind his back.

“You all right?” Leo asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Yeah. No thanks to you, though,” grumbles Logan. He’s in pain, but it’s not like he’s about to admit it to the guy who kidnapped him.

“Are you sure? Are you bleeding?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you want me to—”

“Good grief!” Logan sighs in agitation. “I’m fine. Truly. Why do you care, anyway?”

“It would not reflect well on me if I let the Prince of France die while I was on the job. Head wounds are serious business, you know.”

Logan honestly can’t tell whether or not he’s joking. “Does that mean you’re not going to kill me?”

In lieu of an answer, Leo comes to sit next to him. Side by side, they lean against the carriage wall, and Logan’s breath catches in his throat when Leo reaches out to squeeze his hand.

“But why take me, then? If not to…” he trails off.

The smirk in Leo’s voice is audible. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He pauses for a moment, then, “Are you pouting?”

Logan hastily rearranges his expression. “No.”

“You were!”

“I wasn’t pouting!”

(He was pouting.)

“Sure thing,” Leo says, nudging Logan’s rib cage with one elbow. “Sure thing.”

Logan can’t be sure when he drifts off, but he does know that the rumble of the carriage on the cobbled street and the warmth of Leo’s body against his both help to slowly lull him to sleep. He does register when his head drops to rest on Leo’s shoulder, however, and he feels a calloused hand stroke his hair once, gently, before he becomes lost to the world completely.

When Logan wakes, it’s with a start. He opens his eyes, and he’s a bit startled to be able to see the outlines of trees and the faint glow of a handheld torch. His blindfold must have come off while he was sleeping, he reasons, and, sure enough, the band of cloth hangs loosely around his neck.

“Oh, you’re awake,” says a voice to his left, and he sees Leo’s face illuminated by yet another torch. He’s standing just outside of the carriage—the two doors at the side have been left open, and Leo’s busy making a fire out of a small pile of sticks and bracken.

Logan yawns, somewhat against his will. He’s still in what he was wearing when he first saw Leo, back in his room, and the velvet collar of his frock coat is beginning to itch. He takes it off, shivering when the cool night air hits the thin silk of his shirt.

He feels Leo watching him.

Sure enough, when he turns around, Leo’s head is tilted to one side, a curious expression on his face. For the first time, Logan truly realizes the difference between them—he’s just taken off and carelessly discarded a garment that probably cost three times the amount of money Leo will ever have. In fact, he wonders how Leo, in his blouse and tunic, isn’t freezing.

Then it occurs to him that maybe Leo is freezing, and just hasn’t said anything.

“Are you cold?” he asks, as he steps carefully to the ground. With one hand, he steadies himself against the door, and with the other, he holds out his coat. “Do you want it?”

Leo smiles. “I’m fine, really,” he says. “Thank you for the offer, though.”

There’s an awkward pause as Logan nods slightly, and then Leo sits down, patting the space beside him. Logan hesitates, not entirely too pleased about sitting on the ground, but then forces himself to throw that notion away. He’s been kidnapped—he can’t expect to be waited on at every turn.

The dirt road is cold and unforgiving, and he’s fairly sure he might be sitting on a pebble, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to act too much like the spoiled prince he is—who knows how thin Leo’s patience is? There has to be a line somewhere, and, seeing that Leo is a hardened criminal with a knife and the only means of transportation for what could be miles around, Logan isn’t going to test it.

“Are you hungry?” asks Leo once he’s got the fire going. His cheekbones cast shadows across his face in the dim light, and a few more curls have come loose from his bandana, but Logan doesn’t notice that. Not at all.

“Yes?” he says tentatively, really not wanting to say anything that will get him on Leo’s bad side.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Is that a trick question?”

He’s genuinely curious—and more than a little scared—but Leo just tilts his head back and laughs. “You’ve got more fire than you than I expected, prince,” he says, a grin on his face. “It’ll do you well where we’re going.”

Logan doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just nods.

“I’ve got bread, and I think some cheese,” Leo continues, still smiling, “in the carriage. Want some?”

Logan nods again.

Against his will, his eyes follow Leo as he stands up, stretching his arms over his head, and then makes his way towards the front of the carriage. He disappears around the other side, but Logan watches as his feet go up onto tiptoes, probably to reach into the driver’s seat.

He makes sure his eyes are focused elsewhere, however, by the time Leo returns, sitting down beside him. He’s holding a threadbare rucksack—the fabric is so worn out in places that Logan can almost see what’s inside.

“Here,” Leo whispers as he undoes the buckles and reaches inside, pulling out a bundle of cloth with something inside it. “It’s all we’ve got, though, so don’t eat it all at once.”

“Right.” Logan nods a few times absentmindedly, chewing on his lower lip. He’s hungry, but he’s not sure how this is supposed to work—what exactly is the etiquette for dining with one’s kidnapper? Simply for lack of anything else to say, he asks, “Why are we whispering?”

It’s almost comical—Leo visibly starts. “Oh,” he says, still whispering. “It’s Jackson. The guy driving. He’s asleep.”

You know your driver’s name? Logan manages to stop himself the instant before he says it; he’s pretty sure the remark—or any like it, for that matter—wouldn’t go over well. Instead, he just nods, and takes the piece of bread Leo offers him.

They eat in silence. It’s the kind of silence that’s caught just between comfortable and awkward—Logan’s least favourite kind. He tries to speak, but the words get stuck in his throat.

Maybe that’s for the best. He’s not sure what he was going to say, anyway, and, with his luck, it’d be something pompous and ignorant that would make Leo realize that he, Logan, really isn’t worth it and leave him here on the side of the road for the next group of vagabonds to find.

After a few more bites of (slightly stale, but he’s not going to mention it) bread, he finally manages to think of a relatively safe topic to bring up. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“All in due time, Prince,” Leo grins. “All in due time.”

Well. That was short-lived. Logan wonders if Leo does actually realize that Logan is trying to exchange more than the bare minimum of words necessary and is avoiding it, or if he’s really just that oblivious.

“So you won’t tell me where you’re taking me—or why.” He isn’t even aiming for a response this time; he just needs to be talking; he just needs the empty silence to be filled. “I don’t know where we are, and something tells me you don’t, either. All I do know is that you’re called Leo—though it’s just occurred to me that that might not be your real name—and you’re stupidly brave enough to kidnap the heir to the throne of France in broad daylight.”

There’s a pause, as if the whole world—or their little corner of it, anyway—is holding its breath. Then Leo tips his head back, throat bared to the night air, and lets out a sharp bark of laughter that’s unlike anything Logan has ever heard before.

Logan is used to small laughter. Polite smiles. A ladylike giggle hidden behind a gloved hand. The occasional chuckle from his father. He’s used to the quiet of people either playing up amusement that isn’t there or smothering what is.

He is most certainly not used to the way Leo is laughing now—full and joyful and easy. He knows without really having to ask or even guess that this is Leo’s happiness: contagious and all-encomapassing.

And so Logan begins to laugh too. It starts with a guffaw, and, before he knows it, he’s rocking back and forth on the dirt road, cheeks red, stomach muscles aching. He doesn’t think he’s ever laughed like this. He doesn’t think he’s ever been allowed to.

The fire in front of them crackles merrily. It seems almost as though the flames are reaching higher than before, laughing along with them, but Logan knows that’s not possible.

That doesn’t mean he can’t pretend.

He doesn’t know what it is—the stars above them, glittering, thousands upon thousands of spectators; the crinkle of Leo’s eyes and the way he finally pulls the bandana off of his head, letting a mess of golden-blond curls fall over his ears; the knowledge that they’re as good as alone, so long as they don’t wake the driver (Logan could remember his name if he tried, but he can’t bring himself to) and Logan has knows all his life that alone means freedom—but something makes him shift closer. Something makes him lean in until their faces are almost touching; they’re breathing the same air.

Neither of them is laughing anymore.

Logan’s gaze flickers down to the subtle pout of Leo’s perfect lips, and then back up to meet his oh-so-blue eyes. He lets himself forget the fear he always feels whenever he thinks about something like this—he lets himself forget everything except the warmth of Leo’s breath and the… dull pain in his arm as Leo grabs his shoulder and shoves him away.

“We can’t.”

Logan knows they can’t. But he thought they were pretending.

“Right,” he says, but it comes out so quietly that even he himself can’t hear it. So, because there’s nothing else he can do, not really, he clears his throat and tries again. “Right.”

Something in him desperately wants to ask why. The problem—or one of them, anyway—is that he’s almost positive he doesn’t want to know the answer.

So he simply turns his head away, tracing the pad of one finger lightly through the dusty soil next to him. Logan est ici, he writes. Logan is here.

They let the quiet stretch on for a few minutes. Somewhere just outside the reach of the fireglow, an owl hoots, low and melancholy. The sound echoes, and a shiver runs down Logan’s spine.

“Well,” says Leo eventually, “I suppose you’re getting chilly. Get back in the carriage—make yourself comfortable; it’ll be a few hours until we can travel again.”

“What are you going to do?”

A shrug. “Tend to the horses. Stoke the fire. Make sure you aren’t assassinated. Travelling with a stolen member of the royal family is risky business, you know.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I slept when you did.” Leo’s voice is short. “A little, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

Logan nods, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it. It’s a nervous habit of his—one that countless nannies and governesses tried to no avail to train him out of as a child. “All right.”

Nearly half an hour later, Leo, in solitude for the first time in what feels like far too long, draws a heart in the dirt with the toe of his shoe. He then crouches down, writing something inside it that Logan, watching through the carriage window, either can’t quite make out or doesn’t quite want to.

wonderful characters by @lumosinlove

thanks to @heyitssmiller for beta reading <3

#the high road #o'knutzy #logan tremblay #leo knut #finn o'hara #18th century au #bandit au #kidnapping #cw: food #historically inaccurate but whatever #fanfiction #writing #my writing #sweater weather lumosinlove #coast to coast lumosinlove #lionfish #finnlo #lelo

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lumosinlove · 4 years

Text

Sweater Weather

Pascal Dumais = Dumo

Finn O’Hara = Harzy

Logan Tremblay = Tremzy, Lo

Leo Knut = Knutty, Nut

Thomas Walker = Talker

Kasey Winter = The Blizzard

James Potter = Pots, Potty

chapter xi

The wind as the team got off the plane in Winnipeg hit Remus like a wall of ice. He pulled his coat tighter around himself and bent his head against the sting of snow.

“This is why it isn’t fun!” he heard Kasey shout from somewhere behind him and couldn’t help but laugh as he stepped onto the bus. He nodded at the driver and slung his bag from his shoulder, shoving it in one of the overhead racks before sliding into a seat near the front. Remus shivered, tugging off his coat and stuffing it between himself and the window as a barrier from the cold leaking through the glass. He gathered his sweater over his hands and tucked one knee against his chest, watching the team load the bus. There was a lot of yawning and shuffling. Remus accepted a tired head pat from Pascal, and returned a little salute from Finn, before Sirius appeared up the bus steps.

He was rubbing one eye, beanie low around his ears and looking sleek in his dark gray, wool coat. Remus tilted his cheek on his knee and watched Sirius’ eyes find his. He blinked for a minute and then stopped walking abruptly, causing Logan to bump into his back forehead first.

“Quoi?” Logan grumbled.

Sirius jolted a step forward again. “Sorry.”

He sent Remus a smile before sliding into the seat beside James a few rows back.

Coach was the last one on. He shook hands with the driver, then clapped for attention.

“Alright, boys. Sleep while you can, okay? We’ll get to the hotel late, it’s a bit of a drive, and I’m making morning skate mandatory tomorrow.”

There were some groans and Arthur smiled wryly before sitting back down with some of the assistant coaches.

When they arrived at the hotel it was almost two in the morning and, knowing he had to get up at five, Remus took his new room key and booked it to the elevator. He rode up with Kris and Evgeni, and, once he had safely waved goodnight to them and closed the door, he stripped out of all his clothes and took his toothbrush to the bathroom. He was dead tired, but also half hoping that Sirius would show up at his door. Sure enough, he was turning his lights off and tugging a t-shirt and sweatpants on when there was a very quiet knock at his door. He smiled as he looked through the peephole. There was Sirius, looking large and looming in the fish-eyed glass, hands in his pockets and looking down the hallway both ways.

Remus opened the door, and they were quiet until it was safely shut behind them.

“Again,” Remus said. “Not careful.”

“Guess I’m bad at that,” Sirius said, and leaned in for a sweet kiss. “I won’t stay long,” he said as he walked into Remus’ room. “I just sort of…”

Remus laughed as Sirius flopped on the bed on his back. He smiled and beckoned Remus closer with his socked foot.

“Just want to hang out,” he said, and turned on his side once Remus laid down on the bed, too. “Ça va?”

Remus shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, tired.” He laughed, “Cold.”

“I can warm you up,” Sirius said, yawning and pulling Remus into his chest at the same time. He was wearing a thick Lions sweatshirt and Remus buried his nose into Sirius’ chest, tucking his arms between them.

“Are you sleeping here?”

“Probably shouldn’t.”

“Yeah.”

Sirius snorted. “We sound so convincing.”

Remus laughed. “We do.” He untucked his chin and tilted his head back to look up at Sirius. “Hey.”

Sirius hummed questioningly and looked down at Remus, leaning in to kiss him on the corner of his mouth.

“I know it’s been a few days, but…how are you with the Regulus thing?”

“You mean have I heard anything?”

“No,” Remus said firmly, pressing a palm over Sirius’ chest. “I mean how are you.”

Sirius sighed, pressing his lips to Remus’ forehead for a moment, thinking. he rolled on his back and Remus propped himself on one elbow, hand resting on Sirius’ chest. Sirius put his over Remus’, tangling their fingers together.

“My mother calls me,” he said slowly. “She’s mad I don’t defend Regulus to the media, what they’re saying about him. Bad sportsmanship, jealous…I mean, you’ve read everything.”

Remus had. He’d read everything.

“That’s fucked up,” Remus said. “Really.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said quietly, eyes staring up at the ceiling, fingers idly tracing over the back of Remus’ hand. “I texted him.”

Regulus, Remus figured.

“He didn’t respond,” Sirius finished. “I’m not surprised.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sirius shook his head, looking at Remus then and smiling—if not a little sadly. “At least I’m free for Christmas. My mother couldn’t talk me down for that. We have Dumo’s party. Is your family coming?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah. They’ll actually be at the last game before we break.”

Sirius’ smile lit up. “Yes? Rangers? Julian, too?”

Remus laughed, heart warming. “You love Julian.”

“Yeah,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “He’s a good little brother.”

Remus pressed his hand to Sirius’ cheek. “Aw, Pads.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sirius said. “It’s nice, to have someone like that. I mean, not that he’s mine to have.”

“I’m pretty sure he would love to be yours.”

Sirius smiled, head tilting against the quilt. He ran his knuckles up Remus’ side lightly. “Just him?”

Remus laughed. “No. You know that.” Remus kissed his cheek. “But seriously, what are you going to do for Christmas?”

“Dumo’s,” Sirius snorted, drumming patterns on Remus’ back absentmindedly. “He didn’t even say hello to me after we got back from break, he just told me to be prepared to wear matching pajamas Christmas morning and walked away.”

Remus smiled. “That sounds like Pascal.”

“Yes, it does.”

Remus fiddled with the ties of Sirius’ sweatshirt as they sat, just enjoying each other after a long day. Sirius was scrolling through instagram on his phone, periodically showing something to Remus. Remus tucked his head against Sirius’ neck, enjoying Sirius fingers beneath his shirt, lightly running patterns along his back.

“This is funny, look,” Sirius said sleepily. It was a video of two boys playing hockey with a water balloon, and the loser got it slap-shot in his face.

Remus laughed. “Looks like something Logan and Finn would come up with.”

“Wow, yeah, it does,” Sirius watched the video loop through one more time and laughed before clicking his phone off and throwing it onto the bed, pulling Remus fully on top of him.

“Can’t move,”Sirius said.

“Your feet are dangling off the bed.”

“I can move, but only to the pillows.”

Remus snuggled closer. “As long as you don’t mind my alarm waking you up in…” Remus opened on eye to glance blearily at the clock. He laughed sadly. “Two hours. You have a game tomorrow, I can’t believe I let you stay up this late.”

“Worth it,” Sirius mumbled sleepily. “I’ll play extra hard for you tomorrow, you’ll see.”

Remus hummed, lifting his head and pressing a palm to Sirius’ jaw to kiss him. He sucked on Sirius’ lower lip, kissing him slowly. Sirius moved his hands to Remus’ ass and thighs.

“Re,” Sirius said against his lips. “Do you sometimes feel like—like we’ve known each other for a long time?”

Remus smiled, settling himself more fully on top of Sirius. “Yeah. I do.”

Sirius pushed his hands through Remus’ hair. “Miss you when we aren’t together. Maybe that’s weird after only, what is it, a few months, but…”

Remus shook his head. “It isn’t weird,” he said softly.

Sirius’ hands smoothed down his back. His eyes were sort of wide, searching. He pressed his palm flat there, smiling a little. “You’re heart’s beating.” Sirius took a breath, like he was steadying himself. “Fast.”

“You’ve been making that happen for a while.” Remus said.

He hesitated, looking at Sirius, then, “You know, I never really had good friends…I mean, I did, but…”

Sirius picked his head up a little. “But?”

Remus cleared his throat. “Just…you know, a lot of my friends were in hockey, and when I had to quit…you know. Different schedules.”

“I can’t believe your coach said that,” Sirius sighed. “You can play, look at you.” Sirius ran his hands over Remus’ arms, his back. “Not too small.”

Remus laughed a little bitterly, swallowing hard and anxious to change the subject. “I might have decided I had a point to prove. Anyway, I’m happy with where I am.”

Sirius patted Remus’ butt lightly. “Me, too.”

Remus smiled. “My point is, kissing you, being with you… It’s incredible, Sirius, of course, but…I’m really just—I also like…”

“This,” Sirius said, gathering Remus closer and kissing his cheek.

Remus grinned and leaned down to kiss him again. “Yeah. I like this, too. A lot. It does feel like I’ve known you for a long time. And I like that.”

Sirius’ face looked completely calm, so perfectly relaxed and happy that it made Remus’ chest ache. “Me, too.”

Remus twirled a piece of Sirius’ hair around his finger. “We should really go to bed.”

Sirius bit his lip for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Set your alarm.”

Remus’ made a pleased noise and pushed himself up to pull back the covers. Sirius tugged his sweatshirt over his head, and then did the same for Remus. Remus laughed as Sirius hustled him beneath the covers before spooning up behind him, skin to skin.

“Hey,” Sirius said.

“Hm?”

Sirius pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “Come to family skate. Bring your family. Parents, Jules.” Another kiss. “And skate with me. Okay?”

Remus tucked Sirius’ hands between his own and his chest, holding them by his heart. “Goodnight,” he sing-songed.

Sirius huffed out a little laugh, but tucked his face against Remus’ neck and let himself drift off to sleep.

It was period two against the Jets and Remus was back in the room with Logan, tenderly prodding at a banged up knee.

“I am going to kill them.”

Remus raised his eyebrow. “The whole team?” Remus pressed his thumbs into the muscle beneath Logan’s knee cap. “How does that feel?”

“Yes,” Logan grumbled, running a hand through his sweaty hair and glancing up at the television playing the game. “And it hurts a little.”

“Scale?”

“Five.”

“Really.”

Logan hesitated. “Six.” He sighed. “Seven, but can’t we freeze it or something?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Tremzy, this isn’t the play-offs. You sit out this game, see how you feel for the rest of the road trip. Simple as that.”

“Well, what do you think?”

Remus went over to the fridge for an icepack. “I think it’s just jammed. It won’t be a big deal if you rest it.”

Remus nearly jumped out of his skin when Logan let out a sudden whoop.

“Jesus Christ,” Remus said, turning. “What the fuck, Tremz?”

Logan slapped the padded examination table a few times before pointing at the television. “Cap’s in a fight, Cap’s fighting Beaulieu, holy shit.”

Remus jumped to stand next to Logan so he could see the TV. Sure enough, there was a close up of Sirius’ face. Remus could see his gloves on the ice behind him as he circled Beaulieu. Lee Jordan was talking a mile a minute on air.

“As we know, we really don’t see Black fight all too much, so this is a bit of a treat.”

“That isn’t to say we don’t see him talk a ref’s head off,” Dean Thomas laughed. “Oh, here we go. Beaulieu slammed O’Hara into the boards pretty hard and Black took it upon himself to retaliate.”

“What the fuck,” Logan said under his breath. “How did I miss that, what, Finn…”

“We see O’Hara being helped off the ice now, but oh, Black throws a mean punch!”

Sirius had the Jet by the front of his jersey, holding him in place as he delivered a right hook to his jaw.

“Beaulieu takes off Black’s helmet,” Dean said, “But Black’s got him in a head lock. Oof, I wouldn’t want to be Nathan Beaulieu right now. Black wrestles Beaulieu down on the ice…and…and the refs are there, alright. Exciting stuff, folks.”

“Indeed, Dean,” Lee Jordon laughed. “Certainly got the crowd into it. The Lions players are having a rough night for injuries, though. First Tremblay, now O’Hara. Let’s hope they’re alright.”

Remus watched as Sirius got pulled off of Beaulieu by the referee. He was sweaty and breathing hard, his dark hair falling over his forehead in wet strands. There was blood on his lower lip, and Remus knew it would swell up soon. Remus didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until his lungs burned in protest and he let it all out.

A penalty was called on both teams for fighting and both players skated slowly to their penalty boxes, still spitting words at each other through the glass.

Remus watched, lip pulled between his teeth, as Sirius was handed his gloves and helmet back. He said something that looked nasty to Beaulieu, then laughed with a little sneer to his lip at whatever was replied. Remus took a breath, watching the line of Sirius’ throat as he squirted some water into his mouth, then prodded at his bloody lip.

Only Logan’s voice snapped him out of it.

“Harz, what the hell?”

Finn appeared in the doorway, helmet off and red hair darker from sweat.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Finn said when Logan jumped up.

“Hey,” Remus said, eyes still on the screen as they replayed the fight. He slapped at Logan’s chest with the ice pack. “Sit, Logan.”

Remus ran a hand over his face as they went back to the game, Pascal lining up for the face-off. “Finn, you sit, too.” Remus went to wash his hands. “I didn’t see the hit, tell me.”

Finn sighed as he pushed himself onto the examination table. “It might be my shoulder.”

Logan spluttered. “That’s not fine!”

“Are you fine?” Finn asked him.

“Yeah,” Logan said. “Loops said it’s just a jam.”

Remus walked over to Finn, trying to think of anything except Sirius flicking his hair out of his eyes and wiping blood off of his chin and focus on his job.

“Alright, shoulder?” Remus helped Finn remove his jersey and chest and shoulder pads. “Does it hurt right now? Twinge, ache?”

“Can you move it?” Logan said, leaning over from his own bench.

Remus glanced at him, smiling a little. “You want my job, Tremz?”

Remus wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Logan flush a little. He rolled his eyes and looked back up to the television. When Remus looked back to Finn, he had a funny look on his face, fiddling with the ties on his jersey.

“What he said,” Remus asked.

Finn raised his arm above his head to demonstrate, but winced a little. “I think he just knocked it around, too. I think I can go back out.”

Remus put one hand on Finn’s jaw, keeping his head steady while he pressed gently on his neck. “Anything hurt?”

“No,” Finn said. “All good there. He didn’t really get my head.”

“If you get another concussion, I swear to god,” Logan grumbled, eyes still on the TV.

Remus was extending Finn’s arm out, pushing on the joint when Logan yelled again. James had scored. They all looked to see Sirius, now out of the box, crush him in a hug, knocking their helmets together. A few minutes later, the buzzer went, signaling the ending of the second period.

“Alright,” Remus said. “Harz, you can go back for the third. Tremz, you stay put for this game. Then I think you’ll be good to go.”

“Fuck, Re,” Logan groaned. “Come on.”

Remus held his hands up with a laugh. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Sucks to suck,” Finn said as they stood, swatting Logan’s ass with his glove.

Logan shoved him, carefully avoiding his shoulder, and they walked back together to the slowly filling locker room. Remus spotted Sirius immediately. He was laughing with James in his stall. Finn and Logan made their way over to slap hands about the fight. Remus bit his lip then followed them.

“Need anything, Black?” Remus said.

Sirius looked up, eyes bright with adrenaline. He had stripped off his jersey and was just in his shoulder and chest pads.

Remus pointed to his lip. “All good, or did he get you?”

Sirius rose, even taller with his skates still on. “I’d accept an ice pack.”

“Yeah,” James patted Sirius’ hip. “So he doesn’t look like Kylie Jenner tomorrow.”

Remus laughed. “Nice.”

Sirius trailed him back to the PT room. Remus let the door swing shut and retrieved a cold compress and the first aid kit.

“Hi,” Sirius said, he swung himself up onto the examination table and his hand curved around Remus’ hip, pulling him between his thighs. “Like my fight?”

Remus narrowed his eyes playfully as he carefully dabbed an alcohol pad over Sirius’ lip. His jaw was already tinting a little blue, the lip fat.

Sirius laughed, then winced. “Don’t make me smile.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Remus protested.

Sirius leaned in a little, a question and an invitation. “You don’t have to.”

He smelled like cool ice and the heat of the game. Remus tilted his chin forward, their lips just brushing.

“Hey, Remus,” the door was suddenly opening.

Remus did his best to keep his face completely neutral as Sirius pulled back some, hand slipping back into his own lap. Remus was thankful to every god there was for the alcohol pad in his hand, a perfectly good reason or him to be standing between Sirius’ thighs.

“Yes?” Remus said, turning to see Thomas standing there.

“Hey, you got any icy-hot in here?” Thomas smiled at Sirius, holding his fist out. “Sick out there, Cap.”

Sirius bumped it. “Good hit on Wheeler, let’s take them, eh?”

“You know it,” Walker hit his fist against his palm, then looked at Remus. “Loops?”

“Uh,” Remus blinked, still reeling from the fact that Walker almost walked in on them—

“Icy-hot,” Thomas repeated.

“Yes,” Remus snapped his fingers. “Yes, no, that’s fine. Here. Over here.” Remus picked a few out of one of his bags. “Anything I should know about?”

“Nah, just sore. Thanks, bud. See you out there, Cap.”

Sirius gave a little nod, tearing the alcohol pad packet up into little strips.

After the door closed, Remus and Sirius sat there and stared at each other for a few minutes. Sirius had a funny look on his face. Remus passed a hand through his hair.

“Right,” he sighed. “Okay, well…that’s how easy it would be. There we go.”

Sirius nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He was still tearing the packet up. “Yeah.”

Remus walked over and put his hands over Sirius’, stilling them.

Sirius let out a breath, still refusing to look up.

“We…” Remus began, then sighed, pressing a quick, hard kiss to Sirius’ forehead. “We knew this was going to be…”

“Hard,” Sirius said, voice sounding rough. “I know.”

Remus raised his hand again, passing the alcohol over the cut before wrapping a pair towel around the cold pack. He went to raise it to Sirius’ mouth, but Sirius took it out of his hand. Remus tried not to let anything show on his face.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been being careful,” Sirius said quietly. “For either of us.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be as big of a deal as you think,” Remus ventured timidly.

Sirius looked at him then. His eyes were hard and sad. “You know that isn’t true.”

Remus opened his mouth but Sirius pushed on.

“I know what it’s like to get criticism for something that shouldn’t be criticized. My parents do it, and if they do it, then certainly strangers will. If I give an inch, if I let anyone in, they’ll take me apart.”

Remus stared at him.

Sirius clenched his teeth together, as if he hadn’t meant to say that much, and looked down again. “I won’t let them.”

Remus could barely breathe. He reached out hesitantly for Sirius’ cheek. “Sirius—”

But Sirius pushed himself down from the table, turning away and shoulders tight. “I, um.”

“It’s okay,” Remus said faintly. “We should talk later. You have the game. Good luck—”

But Sirius was already pushing out the door and back to the locker room.

Remus pressed his hands to the table, nails digging into the rubber cushion. He felt shaky and light headed. There were times when he forgot how much pain Sirius had been through. When he forgot just how good Sirius was at hiding it.

They lost against the Jets. Then again Edmonton. They pulled through at Calgary but just barely and Coach was furious, asking what happened. Sirius was off and Remus could see the other boys noticing. Sirius was normal to him in the locker room, if not a little reserved—but he was like that to everyone right now. Sirius still texted him good morning and goodnight. He had called him the night of their…Remus didn’t know if he would call it a fight, but he’d called to say he was sorry for storming out. Remus had barely even let him apologize. Sirius still texted little hearts and hockey emojis, sometimes random pictures of himself stretching, but Remus could tell he was spooked from doing anything while on the road again.

Remus knew he was right to be. But he missed Sirius’ warmth. He missed his laugh. He hated seeing Sirius’ frustration on the ice and the bench. The locker room had been quiet after Sirius had smashed his stick on the ice in the second period against Calgary. Hot-head, Sirius Black, the news kept repeating, always wondering, always asking if Sirius would crack under the pressure. Youngest Captain. Best player. Back from an injury. Snakes Rivalry.

And the list went on. There was so much they didn’t know. Abusive family. Not allowed to love who he wanted to. The weight of the world.

Remus threw his things down on his bed in Vancouver, rubbing his hands over his face. It was a little after six and all he wanted was to order dinner and go to sleep. Well. He wanted to see Sirius. But he would wait until they were home. He would wait, then kiss Sirius senseless, and let him know that Remus was still here for him. As best he could.

Remus was half way through his lasagna and an episode of Criminal Minds when there was a quiet knock at his door. Remus’ heart slammed into overdrive and he all but spilled his plate all over the white bedsheets in his haste to get up.

Sirius was waiting on the other side of the door, looking small and unsure.

Remus stepped aside wordlessly, knowing he wouldn’t want to talk in the hallway.

Remus leaned against the closed door. He waited for Sirius to speak, but he only stood there, opening and closing his mouth a few times. Remus pushed forward, pressing his hands gently to Sirius’ chest. “Hi, baby.”

All the tension seemed to melt from Sirius’ body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Re, I’m sorry. This is exactly what I didn’t want you to feel like, I’m so sorry—”

“Shh,” Remus hushed. “Sirius, I already told you that you don’t have anything to be sorry about.” Sirius made a protesting noise but Remus stopped him with a short kiss. “Of course you’re worried about it. Walker almost saw us, it was…it was sudden.”

“I get it if you want out,” Sirius whispered.

Remus started back. “I—want out?”

Sirius’ face looked pained.

“Sirius, did you forget what I said to you the other night?” Remus wasn’t mad, exactly, but he was a little hurt. He grabbed Sirius’ face, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks. “Sirius. Come on. I…”

Sirius’ hands wrapped around Remus’ wrists. His eyes were a little red and he closed them, like he was holding everything back.

“Sirius—let go. Let go with me. I’m here for you, I—I really—you’re my…”

Sirius’ fingers tighten around Remus’ wrists. “I said that, but I didn’t mean I wanted you to go.”

“I’m not going. I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not,” Sirius said quickly, voice no louder than a whisper.

Remus shook his head. “Then what are we even talking about? I want you. I told you that I knew we would be behind closed doors. I told you that the very first day.”

Sirius nodded. “I—yeah.”

“So,” Remus smoothed his hands down Sirius’ neck to his shoulders. He shook his head. “I went in thinking we weren’t going to get to see each other too much on road trips. What we’ve done so far…maybe we got away with it as a little…as a way to ease us into it all.”

“Hiding, you mean,” Sirius said.

“Yes,” Remus nodded. “Do I wish we didn’t have to hide, of course, but do I understand why you don’t want this plastered all over every tabloid and blog? Of course. But you don’t have to hide with me. Tell me what I can do. Please.”

“I don’t know,” Sirius said quietly. “I don’t know, I just wish…” Sirius groaned, taking Remus’ face between his hands. “I want to—talk about you. Tell people how much I like you. I want to take you out. I want to kiss you on the bench, I want to take you to family skate and I want to hold your hand.”

Remus stared up at him, heart pounding. “Me too. I want that.”

“And I hate, I can’t stand myself because I’m scared of what people, people I don’t even know, might think. Because part of me thinks that if I tell the world that I want you, a boy, then they won’t give a shit how good my hockey is, something that means so much to me.”

Remus shook his head, trying to calm him. “I know, Pads, I understand—”

“But you mean so much, and hockey’s just a fucking—a fucking ball and stick—”

“No, it isn’t,” Remus said firmly. “It’s not. It’s—hockey’s love, too. For your team, for the way you feel when you score, for the Cup, for the fans, for the rivalry. The competition. Sirius, you’re allowed to love more than one thing at a time. I mean,” Remus flushed, realizing what he’d said. “Not that you…you love me, but—”

Sirius kissed him, slow and deep, as if trying to press Remus into himself.

When he pulled away, he pressed their foreheads together. “Maybe I’m just not brave.”

“Bullshit,” Remus said quietly. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

Sirius kissed one of Remus’ cheeks, then the other. Remus’ heart flipped.

“I’m sorry I ran out,” Sirius said. “And I’m sorry I didn’t come see you. We’re—we’re allowed to be friends, too, non?”

Remus smiled, wrapping his arms around Sirius’ neck. “How jealous would you be if I told you that I played video games with Kasey and Thomas the other night?”

Sirius made a pained noise and pressed his face into Remus’ neck while Remus laughed.

“So jealous,” Sirius whispered, kissing Remus’ jaw in a quick series of pecks. “So very jealous.”

“You’ll have to come next time.”

“Have to play the whole time, to keep my hands off of you.”

Remus laughed again, holding Sirius tighter. “We’ll work it out, okay? We will.”

Sirius nodded against Remus’ shoulder, then pulled back for a softer kiss. “We will.”

Pascal’s Christmas party was set to be held the day after the last game before break, tonight at 7:00, and the day before family skate. Remus’ family were flying in for the last game, and Pascal had waved him off when Remus said he might only be able to stay a little while at the party because his family was here for the holidays.

“Remus,” Pascal wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “So many families are coming. Logan’s, baby rookie Leo’s. Bring yours, they are welcome!”

And so that’s how Remus ended up shuffling on his feet in the airport, looking for the familiar faces of his parents and Julian as they got off the plane—looking forward to Julian’s face when he told him that they were all going over to Pascal Dumais’ house—where the entire team would be waiting.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Remus pulled it out. It was a picture of Logan laying sideways on what looked like a pull-out couch, giving the camera the finger.

Dumo made him give me his bed :P

Remus grinned, typing back. The things we do for our Captain.

He had just received a string of hearts when Remus heard his name being shrieked.

“Remus!”

Remus looked up to see Julian bounding towards him, backpack bouncing on his back. He was only just ready in time for Julian to launch himself at him in a bear hug.

“Jeez, Jules, did you grow six feet since Thanksgiving?” Remus squeezed his little brother hard, making him laugh, before setting him down and putting a hand on top of his head. “I swear you did.”

“I don’t know,” Julian said. “Did I?”

“Remus, baby!”

Remus looked up to see his parents approaching with their suitcases, his dad handling Julian’s.

“Hi, mom,” Remus smiled, letting her wrap him up in a tight hug. “Hope you guys aren’t too tired for the game tonight.”

“No, no, no,” Julian patted the Lions hat he was already wearing. “I’m not, I promise I’m not!”

Remus’ dad laughed. “I shouldn’t think so, you snoozed the whole flight.”

Remus walked with them to the rental car buildings and sat in the back with Julian for the ride back to his apartment, listening to every story about his hockey team that Julian could think of.

They got back into the heart of Gryffindor with about an hour to spare before Remus had to leave for the stadium, and about four hours before his family did.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you, Re?” his dad offered.

“No, dad, it’s okay,” Remus cleared his throat. “Um. Sirius is actually picking me up.”

“Sirius,” his dad repeated in surprise.

“What?” Julian said, his mouth hanging open.

“Sirius…” his dad said slowly. “Sirius Black.”

“Yep,” Remus said.

“The Captain of the Gryffindor Lions…gives you rides to games.”

Remus tried to laugh casually. “We’re friends.”

“Please,” Julian whispered, then he was up on his feet and hanging onto Remus’ arm. “Please let me come.”

“Jules, I’m working.”

“Please.”

Remus laughed, “Hey, listen, how about you come back to the locker room after the game again instead. Alright?”

“Are you sure that’s okay, sweetheart?”

Remus nodded at his mother. “Of course. Sirius would…Sirius would love it.”

Remus felt a sudden flash of what it would be like to talk to his parents about Sirius. About Sirius and him. It felt good. Really good.

Remus couldn’t say no to letting Julian come out to the parking lot with him, their mom in toe, when Sirius texted that he was here. Sirius had a beanie on, fingers drumming on the steering wheel to whatever song was playing, but when he saw them come out, he broke into a smile and rolled the window down as Julian bounded ahead towards the car, all shyness from their last meeting gone.

“Hi Sirius,” Julian said. fingers curling over the edge of the window. “Hi.”

“Hey, how’s it going, bud?” Sirius offered his gloved hand for a fist bump. “Coming to the game, eh? Excited for Christmas?”

“You’re going to take the Rangers down, I know it!” Julian grinned. “And yeah, I am!”

“Well, I’ll see you at the Christmas party, too, right?”

Julian turned wide eyes at Remus. “Party?”

Remus laughed, rolling his eyes. “Way to blow the surprise, Black.”

Sirius’ smile dropped. “Shit. Or, uh—fuck—no. Mon dieu, I’m so sorry,” he looked guiltily at Remus’ mother. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lupin.”

Hope laughed, waving him off with a little blush on her cheeks. “No, don’t worry. We’re a hockey family, he’s heard all those words before.” Then, she fixed Julian with a stern look. “And he knows not to use them.”

Julian nodded quickly.

“Okay, okay,” Remus said, waving to his mom and ruffling Julian’s hair. “See you guys after. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Sirius waved as he pulled out, and the second they were out on the road, Remus cracked up.

Sirius sent him wide, sad eyes. “I’m sorry, Re, fuck.”

“Both of your faces, oh my god,” Remus reached over and squeezed Sirius’ thigh. “Also, I think I broke my father when I told him you were picking me up.”

Sirius smiled, glancing over from the road. “Hey, I’m glad you’re coming to the party.”

“I’m excited. They’re excited, too. How is it at Pascal’s? You moved in early.”

“Celeste insisted. She said the holidays start when they play holiday music at the rink, so,” Sirius shrugged. “Here I am.”

They pulled into the Hogwarts parking lot, Sirius stopping at the gate to sign some jerseys for fans waiting there. A few recognized Remus from the bench and said hello. Remus waved, slightly awkwardly, back.

“Your famous, Loops,” Sirius laughed as he pulled into a spot and shoved the car into park.

“Fuck off,” Remus shoved his shoulder and Sirius snorted. Remus pressed his hand over Sirius’, inching his fingers under the cuff of his suit to stroke over the soft, inside of his wrist. “Good luck, alright? No fighting when I’m not allowed to kiss it better.”

Sirius’ smile was radiant and he leaned down, below the cusp of the back seats, and kissed Remus’ palm gently. He looked up at him, eyes soft. “Mon loup.”

Remus’ heart stuttered. “What?” he asked faintly.

Sirius smiled squeezing Remus’ hand. “Mon loup. My wolf. It’s perfect, non? Like Loops, but…my own.”

Remus took a long, slow breath. “God, you are making it so hard not to kiss you right now.”

Sirius glanced out the back window. The player’s garage looked empty. “Then do it.”

Remus glanced, too, making sure there really was no one in sight, and then curled a hand behind Sirius’ head and pulled him in, kissing him hard.

“Mon loup,” Sirius said, lightly biting Remus’ lower lip. “Mon choupinet.”

“What’s that,” Remus whispered, kissing Sirius again, licking into his mouth.

Sirius pressed a hand to Remus’ knee, smoothing it up his inner thigh. “Don’t know translation,” Remus cut him off with another kiss, straining over the center consul. “My darling,” Sirius gasped. “Maybe that works…”

Remus felt as if he hadn’t kissed Sirius in years. He felt hot with it, a burning simmering low in his stomach.

Sirius’ hand smoothed back to his knee, a safer distance, really, and he pulled back with a shaky laugh. “Okay. We should go if you don’t want me to take you in the backseat.”

Remus groaned and thunked his head back against the seat. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Here we go.”

Sirius laughed and squeezed his thigh before getting out of the car.

Remus took another breath. “Here we go.” He followed.

‘Gryffindor,” Frank Longbottom’s voice boomed in Hogwarts stadium, drawing out the words. “For the last time in 2020…Your Gryffindor Lions!”

The crowd went wild as the Lions skated out onto the ice one by one. The Rangers came out more quietly, keeping to their side of the rink. Remus liked the Rangers. They didn’t play dirty, and they were one of the best teams in the league this year, so beating them would mean something. Sirius was out in the center already, tracing the Lions logo with a puck. Remus could see phones pressed up to the glass, like always, filming him. Logan was over by the glass, talking and miming to a boy who had a sign that said Hey Tremzy, I’ll trade you candy for your stick! The boy war a too-big Tremblay jersey that fell to his knees, and a Lions hat on backwards. Logan shuffled back and forth on his skates for a minute, pretending to think about it, before tapping the glass, signaling he’d rather have the Reece’s than the sour strips. It took a few tries, but the boy finally got the packet over the glass, Logan smiling as he refused to let his dad help. Logan then lofted his stick over the glass easily. He gave a thumbs up, and bent for a quick selfie before skating away.

James made an awwing noise. “There’s no doubt the cameras caught that kid’s smile.”

Coach gave him a hard pat on the shoulder pad. “That’ll be your kid at the glass soon, eh, Pots?”

“I can’t talk about it, I’ll cry,” James laughed, then looked down with a smile, like he really was choked up.

Remus jostled his helmet and James looked back at him with a grin. “Lils says hi, by the way. She’s here tonight. Guess we don’t have a secret now.”

“Make sure she comes back to the Room,” Remus said happily. “Hey, are your parents here, too?”

“Not for the game, but they’re coming for the holidays. My father is incapable of passing up a chance to see Pascal Dumais,” James said as he jumped over the boards to skate a few laps and do the wrap around shoot on Kasey, who was in goal tonight. Finn was leaning on the boards, helmet off and talking closely with Leo who was sitting ready on the bench, just in case. Logan skated by and smacked Finn hard on the ass with his stick, making Finn shout and drawing him away to chase after him. Leo raised an eyebrow.

“And that’s going to be all over the internet,” James sighed with a laugh. “Alright, blue Gatorade, Loops, remember.”

“How could I forget,” Remus said wryly.

Remus’ eyes found Sirius again. He was laughing with one of the referees, nose scrunched up. Remus smiled softly at the sight.

“What’s with the face?” Leo asked.

Remus glanced at him. “Just…I don’t know,” he cleared his throat. “Things have been rough with Cap, lately. He feels better now, eh?”

Leo nodded slowly, glancing at Sirius, then back at Remus. Yeah. No, yeah, you’re right.”

“How are you, Nut. I haven’t seen much of you, which I guess is a good thing.”

“I’m—you know.” He gestured around him, fiddling with his blocker. “This is insane. I didn’t—I didn’t know it would be like this. No one tells you.” Leo grinned, his accent dipping and dragging lightly.

Remus smiled, biting back the heavy feeling in his chest. “You’re definitely living the dream.”

“Bonne chance mes amies,” Sirius said as he stopped hard in front of the boards for the national anthem, throwing one leg over than the other in front of Remus. “Let’s take these blue boys down town, eh?”

“What a pep-talk,” James said, and Sirius shoved him. The lights went down for the anthem and Remus bowed his head along with the boys, smiling a little as he thought of Julian in the stands.

“Are you ready?” Frank said, and the lights came up. Remus raised his head and, for a split second, he caught Sirius’ eye. Sirius smiled.

“Okay?” he said, because he couldn’t say more. But Remus knew what he meant.

Remus nodded. “Go get ‘em.”

Sirius skated out for the first face-off against Mika Zibanejad. They nodded at the ref, then bent over, sticks ready. Remus watched Sirius’ eyes go completely focus, a steely gray. The puck dropped.

Sirius won the face off, much to the pleasure of the crowd, and stole it backwards into his own zone, floating for a minute, before snapping it to Finn. Finn darted around Strome before passing it back to Sergei when DeAngelo was on top of him.

“Hey, hey!” Remus could hear Sirius shout, calling for the puck as he wrapped around the edge of the rink, out skating Panarin to get into their zone. He tapped his stick hard on the ice twice to get Sergei’s attention, then checked Kreider with a shove of his arm, pinning him against the boards at the exact moment Sergei shot the puck back towards him. Sirius caught it beautifully, taking off towards Georgiev in the crease. He deked around Strome, and the goal horn lit up.

Logan stood, hollering. “Thirty seconds in, baby,” he pounded the boards with his glove. “Fuck yeah, number twelve!”

Remus’ head snapped towards him, towards Logan calling Sirius, baby. Well. Not in so many words, he guessed. There was still a strange flame up in his heart, hearing that word from someone else.

Sirius raised his gloves and stick for the goal, letting James and Finn slam into him in celebration.

Sirius skated by the bench for fist bumps before swinging over the boards. Remus reached forward and pressed a hand to his shoulder, letting his thumb brush the back of his neck. “Nice one, Captain,” He said over the crowd, and felt Sirius tense, then relax. Sirius turned and flashed him the brightest of grins.

The Lions’ next score was a power play goal, with two minutes left in the first period. Remus could practically hear Frank and Marlene talking up Sirius being put on the power play with two of the cubs, Logan and Finn. It was Logan’s slap shot, fed by Sirius around Brendan Lemieux, only just getting it passed him before Lemieux slammed Sirius into the boards. Remus only just had time to wince before Logan’s shot went bar down over Georgiev’s glove-hand. Finn got there first, slamming into Logan at full force, knocking their helmets together, his glove on the back of Logan’s neck. The Lions were up two to one by the time they were walking back down the tunnel for the first intermission.

“Black,” Coach said, motioning him over with two fingers. “You up for an interview with Skeets?”

Rita Skeeter was standing there, looking all too pleased and excited.

“Um,” Sirius dumped his gloves into the drying bin with a sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

Remus suppressed a smile as he watched Sirius take his helmet off. He bit his lip when he pushed his hair back from his face and went to stand warily opposite of Rita.

“So, Sirius,” she said with delight. “Your baby brother has been quite vocal recently! Any further response?”

Remus’ smile dropped from his face. He knew Sirius had been dealing with this. He just hoped that it would have stopped by now, become old news.

He watched Sirius take a breath. “Did you mean,” Sirius said with a small, tight smile. “‘Sirius, how do you feel about tonight’s power play?’”

Rita’s grin faltered. “Oh. Um, well—”

“Because, Rita,” Sirius propped his hands on the top of his stick. “I felt great about it. I thought the boys were strong and communicating out there. I like our chances in this game.”

Sirius walked off, and out of the lights.

James and some of the team, who were watching, snorted, hitting each other in silent amazement. James gave a loud woop before following Sirius back towards the locker room. Rita, to her credit, had taken it well and handed it back to Dean and Lee smoothly.

Remus wanted to kiss Sirius so bad that it made his head hurt.

The locker room was rowdy with their goals and Sirius’ interview, talking themselves up and ready for a win. Remus had texted his dad about their seats and received a short video of Julian going insane after Sirius’ goal. He copied it and sent it to Sirius for him to look at later.

Leo was standing over Logan who was looking up at him from where he was leaning against his stall. He had a small smile on his face as he wrapped some tape around a jammed finger. Leo said something that made him laugh and kick at Leo’s shin with his foot.

“Yo, Loops,” Finn said, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “We’re outta tape, got any white for me?”

“Oh, yeah, give me two seconds.”

“Thanks, man.”

“For sure,” Remus smiled. He took one last look at Sirius, stripped down to his pads and sweaty with a towel around his neck. It was a sight he wasn’t keen on missing, but he wasn’t being paid to stare.

He held the door open for Coach, reading to get the boys back on the ice for second period, on his way back with Finn’s tape, and then made his way back to the rink where the crowds were settling back into their seats. He looked up at the big screen to see that they were playing some pre-recorded video that the media team had done with the boys. They had various facts up on the screen and some of the boys had to guess who it was about. Right then, the fact was, who has a vintage hockey equipment collection? They showed James first, glasses on and squinting at the camera.

“I don’t…” James’ voice and laugh echoed through the stadium. “Who the hell would…Is it Vans, is it Sergei?” James looked behind the camera for the answer, but then they cut to Finn and Leo, being interviewed together. Leo was chewing on his lip and Finn was look up, thinking.

“That sounds like a Sergei move,” Finn mumbled.

“Or Sunny,” Leo said. “Is it Henrik Sunqvist?”

“Oh, good one, Nut, is it Sunshine?”

The camera cut to Logan, who was smirking. “I think I have an unfair advantage to this question.”

That rose a response out of the crowd. It was a dead give-away.

“Huh,” Remus said to Coach. “I didn’t know that about Dumo.”

“It’s an incredible collection,” Coach responded excitedly. “Fascinating to see, really. I know he’d give you a tour if you asked. Maybe at Christmas.”

They showed a few more players; Evgeni jokingly saying Jackson, Timmy actually guessing Pascal, before they showed Pascal with a wide grin on his face.

“Yes, that’s me. One person guesses me?” Pascal laughed, making a tisking sound. “Well, Logan doesn’t count.”

There were a few more shots of the boys who hadn’t guessed Pascal kicking themselves, and then the screen was back to pumping up the crowd with countdowns and replays of the first period.

The boys skated back out for the second where the Rangers pulled up 3-2, a lead that they were able to keep until ten minutes into the third. Sirius was on the bench and Pascal’s line was out. Remus could hear Pascal call to Logan for the puck. The pass connected, and then Logan was flying back up the ice. Pascal’s pass was intercepted by Panarin who darted around both Sergei and Thomas Walker’s defense line. Remus could tell that he was lining up for a one timer when Kasey shot out of the goal in an insane poke-check, jabbing the puck right out from under his nose.

“Oh!” Sirius shouted, rising from the bench and hitting James. “Nice one, Kase!”

Finn nudged Leo. “You should start poke-checking, Nut.”

Leo smiled wryly. “Oh, I can poke-check.”

Finn got a dreamy sort of expression on his face for a moment, but then Sirius was turning towards Remus, hitting his glove against Remus’ stomach a few times. “iPad, iPad, iPad, please.”

Remus snorted, getting a little kick in his chest from the secret-feeling look Sirius shot him in thanks as he took the iPad and scrolled through the shifts. Logan heaved himself over the boards, sweaty and panting, and sat down on the bench beside Finn who tapped their helmets together.

“Good shift, Lo.”

Sirius leaned back and hit Logan softly in the back of the helmet. “Yeah, bud, good speed.” Then, he leaned over to James. “Pots, alright, see when Strome went here, we should have you following him up…”

Remus watched the third line, centered by Evgeni, tear out into the ice. Evgeni and Jackson were two of their strongest players together. They could read each other almost as well as Sirius and James could, and Remus watched as they hustled the puck back into the Rangers’ zone. It happened fast. Jackson shot to Evgeni, Evgeni to Evan, then back to Jackson. Jackson slapped it to where Evgeni was waiting by the net, and Evgeni tipped it in. 3-3.

“Nice, Kuny,” Sirius said as the line skated by the bench for glove taps. “Atta boy, Nado.”

Pascal got a wrap-around goal at two minutes, and the game was over—neat and encouraging.

“You know, you always wanna go into the new year with a W, and I think that’s exactly what was motivating us tonight,” Sirius said to the reporters gathered around his stall after the game. He was yet un-showered, sweaty towel wrapped around his neck and his lucky, sweat-stained hat on backwards to keep his hair from dripping into his face. “Yeah, I’m just proud of the boys and I think this is a really, you know, a really good way to take some time off, well deserved.”

“Any special plans for the holidays, Sirius?”

Sirius minutely raised an eyebrow at the thinly veiled question. Then, his eyes darted towards Remus. He looked at him for just a second, but Remus felt it to his very core. Sirius smiled. It was small, and rare to the press. Remus heard about twenty cameras go off at once.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Any time I get to spent with my friends and family is special.”

“And the team’s annual Christmas party, that’s at Dumo’s house, yeah?”

Sirius looked at the reporter. “What, you’re planning on crashing?”

Sirius smiled again at the laughs it raised from the crowd. Remus saw Finn and Logan shoot a surprised look at each other. The Captain was in a good mood.

“Yeah, for sure,” Sirius said, waving away the laughs. “Looking forward to it.”

“Alright,” Marlene stepped in, motioning the press towards the door. “That’s all folks, thanks a lot.”

Remus watched for a second, and then suddenly there was a hand covering his eyes and a voice in his ear.

“Guess who,” it said.

Remus grinned. “Lils.” He turned, eyes instantly widening. “Holy shit, Lily, look at you.”

“You like?” Lily laughed, turning to the side and running her hand over her baby bump. “Isn’t he cute? Already looks good in a jersey.” Lily tapped the A for assistant captain on her POTTER jersey she was wearing.

“You look incredible,” Remus pulled her in for a tight hug, then pulled back to stare down at the bump. “I mean, I know I’ve seen you over FaceTime and everything but this is something else.”

“Lily Evans,” Pascal walked up to stand beside Remus. He was sweaty still and careful about leaning in to press a kiss to both of Lily’s cheeks. “Mon cher.”

“Pascal,” Lily beamed. “You better get Celeste to tell me all of her tips and tricks.”

Pascal laughed. “The trick is love and kindness. I know you are already overflowing in that. Also, the occasional candy bribe.”

Remus laughed. “I think that still works on some of these guys.”

“Facts,” Finn said, walking by to the showers, naked. “Sup, Lils.”

“Nice ass, O’Hara,” Lily said.

“Hey, you can’t say that,” James appeared, wrapping an arm around Lily. “Hi, babe.”

“Good game, lover,” Lily said, leaning up for a quick kiss.

“Our boy’s a good luck charm.”

“If he can’t come to every single game, I’d be careful what you say,” Sirius called from his stall, un-taping his socks. He balled up the tape and chucked it in their direction. “Hey, Loops, où est ta famille?”

“Oh,” Remus smiled slowly. “I just have to go get them.”

They were down the hall waiting excitedly, guest passes hung around their necks.

“Hey guys,” Remus said. “Ready?”

“Fantastic game, bud,” Lyall said. “What a zinger at the end there, eh?”

“We’ve been really pulling through lately, yeah,” Remus grin. His chest always warmed when his parents insisted on congratulating him on a game. As if he’d played.

“Oh, why don’t you just take Julian in, sweetheart,” his mother said.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes, of course. He really loves the locker room and we’ll see everyone at the party, won’t we, dear?”

Remus’ father nodded. “Jules might explode if you don’t go soon, so…”

Remus laughed. “Well, alright. C’mon, you little monster.”

“I’m not,” Julian laughed, and Remus wrestled him into a head lock before opening the locker room door for him.

“Whoa-ho,” James said from where he was standing by the door with Lily. “The Captain’s back.” He held his fist out for a bump. “Hey, man.”

“Hi, Pots,” Julian said, a little quietly, but he was smiling. Then, his eyes shifted somewhere behind him and he hit Remus’ side a few times. “Re, Re, Re.”

“What?” Remus followed his gaze to see that Logan and Leo seemed to be having some sort of mock boxing match with nothing but their towels and gloves on.

“Yep,” Remus said. “If you’re gonna ask me what they’re doing, I have no idea.”

Julian seemed entranced though, and Remus laughed and shuffled him out of the way of some of the other players heading towards the showers.

Pascal, throwing his dirty jersey in the laundry bin in the center of the room, stopped when he saw Remus. “What is this? Remus, you didn’t tell me you had a twin.”

“Dumo,” Remus heard Julian whisper.

Pascal laughed and bent down in front of Julian. “Bonsoir. What’s your name?”

“Julian.”

“Julien? Est-ce que tu parles français, Julien?”

Julian shook his head vigorously. “No, sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay, it’s okay. I bet you play hockey though, non?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a center.”

“Ah, like me. Like our Captain,” Pascal poked the C on Julian’s jersey. “Are you in need of more jerseys, Julien? I hear this player, number twelve, is old news.”

Julian looked at once excited by the mention of jerseys and vastly offended at the insult to Sirius.

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

Julian’s head whipped around to where Sirius was standing.

“What’s up, Jules,” Sirius said.

Remus had to carefully control his face at Sirius calling Julian his nickname. He pressed a hand to the top of Julian’s head, glad for the excuse to beam at Sirius.

“Hi, Pads,” Julian said, sounding a little like his father’s prediction might have been right, that Julian might just combust from happiness.

Finn, walking behind Sirius from the showers, did a double take and froze, staring at Julian with just as much awe as Julian was staring at him.

“Remus,” Finn said slowly. “Do you have…a child?”

“What?” Remus laughed. “No, Harz, this is my brother.”

“This is Julian,” Sirius said. “Jules, this is Harzy.”

“I know,” Julian had his jersey sleeves gathered in his hands.

“Wow, I am so glad I’m wearing a towel,” Finn said, almost to himself, before very seriously holding out a fist for Julian to bump. “Mr. Lupin.”

Julian laughed and met his fist. Finn pretended to wince and shake his hand out, smiling with a wink as he walked away.

“Alright, Jules, we should let everyone get dressed, eh?”

“Hey, hey, hey, hang on a second,” Sirius went to his locker and pulled out the sweatshirt he usually cooled down in, throwing it on. “Gotta have my good luck charm for my cool down, eh?”

And that’s how Remus ended up watching from the gym doorway as Sirius talked to his baby brother, asking him any and every questioned as he stretched, and Julian imitating any move he made.

James appeared at Remus’ shoulder while Sirius and Julian were both seated on the ground touching their toes.

“He totally has a girlfriend,” James whispered.

Remus looked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“No offense to your brother, but a sudden interest in kids? When did that happen? Trust me, he’s got baby fever. I’d know. When I found out Lily was pregnant, suddenly I had to say hello to every baby I saw. Like every baby.”

Remus laughed. “Uh, yeah, maybe.”

“I just…” James sighed. “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me, I mean…I’m so happy that he’s happy. And I can tell you know? Only he always denies it and that just…I don’t know.”

Remus looked down at his hands. He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t conjure the words.

“Hopefully he brings her to Dumo’s, eh?”

“Yeah,” Remus choked out. “Yeah, for sure.”

Remus showed up at Pascal’s house with his family a little late. His mother had been slow getting ready, at little nervous, and then his father had misplaced the car keys. Julian had been a puddle of longing in the living room until they had turned out onto the road, finally.

Remus closed his car door, heart pounding, and he didn’t really know why.

“All good?”

His dad held up the bottle of wine they’d brought with a grin. “All good.”

They walked up the path and Remus knocked on the door.

“Remus,” Celeste greeted them with Katie on her hip. She looked elegant in her green, long-sleeved dress. “Mr. and Mrs. Lupin, bonsoir, please come in!”

“Hi, Celeste,” Remus said, accepting a kiss on both cheeks.

“Yo, Loops!”

Remus jumped a little. “Uh, hi, Tremz.”

Tremz waved vigorously at him from the sliver of the living room he could see, and Leo sent him an apologetic look. Celeste laughed.

“We are all…well into the night, you might say,” she leaned in. “A little tipsy, non?”

“Except for me,” Lily walked up and wrapped her arms around Remus. “I’m living through James.” She smiled. “Hi, Hope, hi Lyall, good to see you again. Hey, Julian!”

Julian was quickly commandeered by the other children, a charge led by the Dumais’ kids. Apparently there was a pick-up game going on in the basement somewhere.

“I want one of him,” Lily sighed happily, before following his parents, who were whisked away by Celeste to the kitchen for drinks, and Remus found himself suddenly alone in the entry way, hanging up their coats.

“Hi.”

Remus looked up as he closed the closet door. Sirius was standing there, leaning against the doorway with his ankles crossed. He was wearing a forest green sweater, nothing like anything Remus had never seen him wear before, and dark jeans with white adidas on. His hair was fluffy, no doubt having been wet from the snow earlier, and with no hat to hold it down it curled around his ears and over his forehead sweetly. He looked soft in the yellow lights, and warm. Remus hadn’t kissed him, hadn’t so much as touched him, in the days since his parents arrived. It was only a two days but…the sight of him sent a small shiver through him.

“Hi,” Remus said faintly. He walked the few steps between them and stood close to Sirius, out of sight of the inner rooms.

“Good break so far?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to have Jules around again. You?”

Sirius nodded. “Dumo’s kids are sweet. Logan, not so sweet.”

Remus laughed and so did Sirius.

“Lots of video games,” Sirius finished. “A good break, but…”

Remus heard the I miss you without him having to say it. It was a text he received every morning and every night.

“Did I miss Jules?”

“Oh, you’ll see him. He’ll come looking for you soon enough once he wonders why he’s playing with a bunch of kids when Sirius Black and Logan Tremblay are upstairs.”

“Also at family skate, oui?” Sirius asked.

Remus nodded, and then took a breath, glancing into the living room for a moment. “I have something for you.”

Sirius’ eyebrow went up. “Oui?”

“Mhm. A Christmas gift.”

“Is this something I get while we are alone?” Sirius asked, voice low.

Remus snorted. “Well, this one comes in a box. But you can have that, too, I assure you.”

Sirius grinned. “I have something for you, too.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s in a box, too, but I’d be more than happy to follow it up with something else,” Sirius reached out, fingers pinching the hem of Remus’ gray sweater softly. “Will you find me upstairs later? An hour, maybe? Give people time to drink a bit more.”

Remus glanced around the room. “Pads, we almost got caught. Remember how you felt then. Are you sure?”

Sirius gave his head a small shake. “It’s just a present. Besides, I need you.”

Remus let out a breath. This felt like both the best and the worst place to be meeting alone. Everyone here was their friend, their family, but that worked against them just as much as it worked for them. Remus thought of his unsuspecting parents in the other room. He thought of his own bed, which felt too large now that he had become used to Sirius in it.

“I’ll kiss you in an hour,” he said.

“You better.”

Remus wandered into the kitchen for a drink while Sirius went back into the living room. He wasn’t just here for Sirius, even if that was what it felt like. He liked seeing the rest of the boys outside of work.

Leo and Logan where there, Leo trying to dissuade Logan from another glass of wine, and Logan trying to persuade Leo into one more.

“Letting loose, eh, Tremz?” Remus laughed as he poured himself some.

“It is Christmas,” Logan said. “C’est Noel!”

“What?” A girl turned around from where she had been talking to Thomas—who looked like he was sweating.

“Not you,” Logan said, pressing his palm to the girl’s face, who punched him in the arm in return. “Ow.”

Remus raised an eyebrow and Logan waved him off.

“My sister.”

“Oh, I didn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, there’s two others around here somewh—” Logan cut off sharply. His face froze for a moment, then went sort of blank.

For a second, Remus worried it was something to do with the alcohol, but then he realized that Logan was staring at something behind him. Remus turned around, and was a little bewildered when all he saw was Finn, having just arrived. He was smiling and holding hands with a girl.

“Hey guys,” he said.

“Hey Harzy,” Remus said, then glanced at the girl.

“Oh, this, um. This is June.”

June waved, revealing a bright smile. Her curly hair was piled on top of her head and the white sweater she was wearing set off her tanned skin nicely.

Remus held out his hand. “Remus.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said. Remus watched her glance at Logan and Leo. “What’s up, Leo.”

“Hey, June,” Leo smiled, but it looked a little tight. “Good to see you again.”

“What,” Logan said faintly. Then he flushed, like he hadn’t meant to say it.

“Lo,” Finn said, sounding—a little nervous actually. “Um. Yeah, this is June. I hoped you guys would meet earlier but, you haven’t been around to me and Nut’s place in a while, so.”

Logan stared for long enough that Remus had just begun to feel awkward, and then said a faint. “Hi.”

“Man, Lo,” Leo laughed and it sounded loud in the small space. “Had a bit too much wine, alright, let’s all go into the living room.” He smiled brightly at June. “You can meet the rest of the boys. Let’s go y’all.”

“Excuse me,” Logan said. He set his glass down hard and disappeared through the door leading into the basement, to his room.

They hovered there for a moment, unsure of what had just happened.

“I’ll go make sure he’s,” Leo began vaguely. “He’s had a lot to drink,” he finished looking more at Finn.

“Yeah,” Finn said, face looking pale and conflicted. He turned back to June when Leo followed Logan down to his room. “C’mon J, I want you to meet Lily. Also hopefully Cap is around here somewhere.”

“He’s in the living room,” Remus offered, still glancing at the basement door.

They turned, and Remus only just heard June say something along the lines of, “Was that him?”

Remus went to find Sirius—maybe a little early. The walk up the staircase felt like deja vu, like when he had gone looking for a bathroom at Sirius’ house on Halloween. Only, this time, he was looking for what he had found that time. And Sirius would be looking for him.

He found the guest bedroom where he and Sirius had first kissed. Where he had first felt Sirius in his arms. He brushed his hands over the quilted bedspread before going to the window. The snow was illuminated in the street lamps. The mulled wine and cider wafted up from the kitchen, along with laughter. It felt like Christmas.

“Looks like we’re both early,” Sirius’ voice came from behind him.

Remus smiled and turned around. Sirius was in the doorway, turning the lock on the door behind his back.

“Why were you upstairs?” Remus asked. “On Halloween. When you found me in your room.”

“I saw you go upstairs,” Sirius said simply, and then he walked forward. He pressed into Remus’ space, hands moving to his hips. “I would have done anything to be alone with you back then. Including follow up upstairs in my own house, where I knew where the downstairs bathrooms were.”

Remus laughed, winding his arms around Sirius’ neck. “Oh, yeah? Only back then?”

Sirius shook his head, bending to let their lips only just brush together. “Any time. All the time.”

“Do you know its been almost three months?” Remus whispered, leaning into to press a soft, barely there kiss to Sirius’ mouth. “Three months since you told me that you wanted me. Two months since we kissed.”

“I’m offended that you think I could forget these things,” Sirius’ hands were warm as he pressed them under Remus’ sweater and shirt, against his back. Sirius let out an unsteady breath. “I could never forget, Remus.”

Remus’ chest felt too small, he pulled Sirius tighter to him. “Baby.”

Sirius’ smile was soft and cut off by his kiss, his fingers firm against Remus’ jaw.

“I could kiss you forever,” Sirius whispered.

“Do it,” Remus replied, and his voice sounded high to himself, turned on and—

Maybe in love.

Remus gasped as Sirius pressed a kiss to his neck.

“Do it,” Remus breathed. His hands wound through Sirius’ hair, and he kissed him.

Remus forgot the night. Sirius’ mouth was hot and it tasted like the cinnamon in the cider. He pressed his hands against Remus’ lower back and held him close.

“I know we can’t do much right now,” Sirius said. “But I want to kiss you. I want—I want to know you’re with me even when I alone.”

Remus could barely breathe. He reached up, knuckles trailing across Sirius’ cheek. “I am with you.”

Sirius smiled down at him. “Mon Loup.”

“C’mere,” Remus pulled Sirius down, bringing their mouths back together.

Sirius leaned into it, sucking on Remus’ lip for a moment before breaking to trail wet kisses down the side of Remus’ neck. “How much time do you think we have before people start wondering where we are?”

“Not enough,” Remus panted. “Five minutes. Where the hell did this sweater come from?”

“Like it?” Sirius nipped at his bottom lip. “I bought it for you.”

“Sirius Black,” Remus laughed as Sirius cut him off with a kiss, and it turned into a soft moan. “Went shopping for me?”

“Do anything for you.”

Remus pressed his fingers against Sirius’ toned stomach, warm from the cashmere wool. “New Year’s,” Remus said. “I want to kiss you on New Year’s.”

Sirius smiled into their next kiss. “At midnight.”

“At midnight,” Remus whispered.

“I think I can pull that off,” Sirius pressed a few dragging, slow kisses against Remus’ lips. “Close your eyes, mon loup.”

Remus smiled, head tilting back against the wall as he closed his eyes. Remus felt Sirius’ hands take one of his own from beneath his sweater. All was still for a moment, and then there were lips on the inside of his wrist.

Remus sucked in a breath, and then something cool was being wrapped around his wrist.

Remus opened his eyes to see a simple watch. It was nothing like anything Sirius would have purchased for himself. Nothing flashy, not even all that shiny. A muted silver, with a simple face and leather band. It ticked gently.

“Pads…”

“Look,” Sirius said quietly. He unfastened it and flipped it around. Remus reached out and ran his fingers over the words engraved there, the words that would always be pressed against his skin.

Mon vœu.

“My wish,” Sirius translated, although Remus had known. His voice had caught the moment he had read them. Sirius looked at Remus with open, silver eyes. “Remus…for now, the words are only for you. But,” Sirius fastened the watch around Remus’ wrist once more, and tapped the face of it. “It’s only a matter of time. I want…us.”

Sirius bit his lip for a moment, eyebrows drawing together before he pressed a palm to Remus’ neck, thumb stroking along his jaw. “Re. Please wait for me. I wasn’t asking before, I never wanted you to feel like you were tied down to anything. I’m asking now.”

Remus felt the press of tears behind his eyes. Instead of responding, he reached into his own back pocket, grasping something.

“Close your eyes,” Remus rasped out.

Sirius did so, dark eyelashes fanning out across his cheeks. Remus reached up and smoothed the stressed furrow on his forehead with his thumb, then leaned up to press a kiss there.

Remus withdrew the necklace and let the cool chain fall around Sirius’ neck. Sirius opened his eyes, eyes darting down to the pendant.

“Twelve,” he said.

“To anyone else, yes,” Remus brushed his fingers over the fairly small numbers one and two resting beside each other. “But one is silver, and one is gold. I,” Remus let out a slightly watery laugh. “I don’t know if it’s that easy to understand, but—”

“Half,” Sirius whispered. “Half is gold. Half is silver. Half of twelve is—” Sirius blinked and his eyes shone. “Six.”

Remus nodded silently, and then Sirius was kissing him again, hard and desperate.

“You never had to ask,” Remus said against his lips. “I was always going to wait.”

Sirius’ laugh was giddy and soft and he pulled Remus in around the waist and hugged him.

They knew they would be missed and that the food would be put out soon, and so Sirius brushed his fingers through Remus’ hair, and Remus smoothed Sirius’ clothes.

“Handsome,” Remus said, and took a breath. “Okay, ready.”

Sirius just looked at him, face open and radiant. He raised his new necklace to his lips and kissed it. Then, he tucked it into his shirt and opened the door, letting the sounds of the party back in.

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

Text

dirtbags // 4: Lola

Summary: High school AU. 1985. Winter. Heather’s party is huge; Lola makes new friends, get better acquainted with some underclassmen, and turns out to be far cozier with the hostess than anyone could guess. The next day, Nikki comes to work despite his hangover, while Charlotte and Eileen plan Vince’s murder. Razzle’s just there to have fun.

A/N: 6603 words. For @misscharlottelee and @julymotel , my beloveds, as always. Sorry it's late, it's been a hell of a week. But, here's the kids. I should say that this chapter does include slight, implied internalised homophobia, just as a warning.

judge if you want, we are all going to die. i intend to deserve it.

For the record, Lola isn’t a party-goer by nature, and the fact that she’s been to two in as many months is baffling her. Usually she just goes to see bands, and sometimes hangs out at peoples’ houses, but high school parties specifically alluded her for most of her time in Boston. It’s not that she wasn’t invited, but her mom had been something of a hardass, and the closest she’d ever gotten was when drunk kids made their way to the diner right before closing on a Friday or Saturday.

Her dad’s fully supportive of her going out and partying, which is weird in it’s own right. He writes down their home phone number on a piece of paper, in case Lola can’t remember it when she’s drunk - his words - and tells her to call whenever she needs a lift. Don’t go get into a car with strangers. Drink plenty of water. Be safe. Have fun.

“Dad, you’re being weird,” she’d told him flatly, applying eyeliner to her waterline in the bathroom. Leo, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, was watching her with a fond expression.

“If I was a hardass and banned you from going out, you’d probably still sneak out anyways -” Lola goes to protest, which Leo finds sweet, but he holds a hand up, and she lets him continue, “not that I don’t think you respect me, but I just know what it was like being a teenager; if you got into trouble while sneaking out, you wouldn’t feel like you could call me for help,” he explained, giving pause, “but I always will, you know that, right?” And Lola nods, but goes back to applying eyeliner, knowing her father’s tone of voice too well, anticipating the fact that he was about to dive into a story of his own to help prove his point.

“When I was your age, or maybe a bit younger, fifteen or sixteen, me and some friends snuck out to a bonfire one night that my parents had absolutely forbidden me from going to, and I ended up needing to go to the emergency room from a burn I got on my hand from being an idiot around the fire,” and he raised his left hand, to show the still visible, large scar on his palm, “I was more terrified of what my father would do than of the burn itself so I didn’t try and call him or mum; I walked home from the hospital alone the next morning, and lied about how I got the burn.”

Lola paused, lowering the eyeliner pencil, meeting her father’s gaze in the mirror. Leo’s smile had turned a little sad at the memory; Lola doesn’t hear much about her grandparents, and she wonders if stories like this are the reason why.

“You’re my kid, Keola, I never want you to think you can’t come to me for help, okay?” It’s rare for Leo to use Lola’s full first name, usually reserving it for more poignant and earnest moments, so every comment about how he’s being a sap, or that she already knows, dies on Lola’s tongue.

“Thanks, dad,” she smiles soft, and Leo smiles back, all crows feet and laugh lines, before he tells her that she looks badass, and he steps out of the doorframe, heading back downstairs to the diner.

By the time Lola shows up, it’s just edging past eight-thirty, though the party still seems to be in its early stages. There’s music that can be heard down the street, and fairy lights scattered throughout the garden, though most of the partygoers who had already arrived are still confined to the house. Apart from a gangly, dark-haired boy whose face she knows, but whose name she doesn’t, sitting on the wide, ostentatious front steps, looking up at the stars glittering overhead. There’s a cigarette in a loose grip between two fingers, though the ash has already burnt down half of it without him tapping it off; it’s almost comical, she’s pretty sure he hasn’t even put it to his lips yet.

“You’re wasting that,” Lola points out, and the guy is jolted from his thoughts, the movement sharp enough to have the ash falling from the cigarette and to the ground by his shoes. He looks to the cigarette, which has gone out, and then to Lola, a little helpless, “I could take it off your hands,” she offers, unsure of how to proceed, and he holds the cigarette out, smile blooming on his face.

“I can’t get the hang of it; I’m playing a smoker in this play I’m doing in a month, and I’ve been trying, you know, make it feel natural, never seems to,” his mouth is curved into a bemused smile as he shrugs helplessly, watching Lola tuck the half a cigarette behind her ear. For a moment, his eyes roam his face, like he’s searching for something to recognize, and she can read it all over him when he finds it, his eyes alight with familiarity, “you work at the diner!”

Lola hates how disarming she finds his earnestness. He doesn’t mention her reputation or the rumours around her, which she’s pretty sure he would have heard since she’s eighty-percent sure he goes to her school.

“Lola,” she offers her hand, and he takes it, using it as leverage to get to his feet before he gives it a proper shake.

“Keanu,” he says, matter-of-factly, still grinning, and Lola suddenly knows where she knows him from. The school musical sign-up sheet is on the Art Faculty’s notice board right outside her art classroom, and she’s been staring at his name amongst a small list of others, including Eileen’s, much to Lola’s surprise, while she and the rest of her art class wait to get into their room.

At least she’s pretty sure it’s him; Keanu’s not exactly a common name. The only other time she’d heard it was in one of her dad’s stories, it was the name of one of his childhood friends -

She leaves it be; he groans and stretches, and there’s an idle moment where his shirt rides up, and Lola reminds herself to focus on the person who actually invited her, and to stop getting fleeting feelings for people she barely knows just because they’re pretty. Lola mutters that she needs a drink, and Keanu claps her on the shoulder and agrees, the two of them heading inside.

Heather’s house is in the same part of town as Vince’s, almost an hour’s walk from the diner, but somehow Heather’s is even nicer. Sprawling front lawn, abstract paintings and movie props on little, pristine pedestals inside, Lola feels like she’s lowering the property value just by stepping foot inside. The party was easily both the nicest and most raucous Lola had ever been to, which, granted, wasn’t saying a lot, but their house was wired with speakers, all connected back to the jukebox in the living room, and Heather’s parents had even let her hire coloured lights.

“As long as the cops aren’t called, we can do whatever we want,” was the message passed around the school from Heather herself. Lola’s feels as though that probably won’t bode well for her parents’ elegantly displayed collectables, but whatever, it’s not like it’s Lola’s problem.

Already there’s a decent crowd inside, and Lola loses Keanu amongst them, making a beeline for the kitchen, manoeuvring around the house with easy familiarity. She reaches pushes past several people to get to the fridge, reaching all the way to the back, past a set of tupperware, to the bottle of wine Heather’s mom had stashed there. Lola removes the sticky note telling everyone not to touch it, and uncorks the bottle over the sink, scowling.

It feels like she’s floating through the night, no-one around that she knows just yet, disconnected from everyone else, carrying the bottle of wine by her side, occasionally taking a drink. Moving from room to room, she takes her time people watching, and guessing how long before the various, expensive props and bric-a-brac were being used for things counter to their intended purpose.

In the front room, there’s finally someone she recognises, kind of; the the young redhead, the fruit one- Peach! She’s unsteady on her feet, beautiful and angry, defiantly making her way through a can of cheap beer, and Lola wonders where the rest of her clique is, that sister of hers, Eileen, even Charlotte.

“You okay?” Lola’s never been great at comforting people, but Peach is currently leaning against a wall at a forty-five degree angle after losing her balance, and scowling. She’s drunk. Already. Fuck.

“I’m fine! Freaking- fucking great!” She’s not even looking at Lola properly, glaring out the window she’d narrowly missed falling on. Lola follows her gaze. It’s just passed nine, and Tommy and Charlotte can be seen walking up to the door; they don’t see Peach or Lola, thankfully.

“You - you’re friends with that... that mean, asshole, punk guy, right?” Peach asks, standing upright so suddenly she overbalances again, and Lola has to catch her elbow to keep her from topping. Peach slaps her hand away, but keeps her balance, obviously with a bee in her bonnet about something that Lola couldn’t even begin it fathom.

“Nikki?” Lola clarifies flatly, amused but not wanting it to show. Peach nods solemnly. Lola bites back a laugh, “yes, I’m friends with him, why?”

“Is he coming tonight?” Peach asks, tone almost forcibly coy and casual, raising her can of drink, taking large gulps as Lola says that he mentioned that he should be, and then asks why. Peach goes quiet. Lola had thought it impossible for Peach’s scowl to grow deeper, but it did, as a blush began to creep up her neck.

“You know my sister, right? Eileen?” Peach says, instead, and Lola nods slowly, and she takes a swig of wine, “she’s a year - a single goddamn year - older than me; I’m sixteen, Lola, she said I was too young to go to a party like this.” And yeah, okay, Lola makes a face at that; she was the same age as Tommy, and he’s done objectively worse stuff in front of Eileen and Charlotte with no complaints. The last house party flashes through Lola’s mind, and she grimaces - “exactly, it’s dumb! Charlie had been dating Duff for a year by the time she was my age, and let me tell you, they were proper gross!” Peach sways a little, and Lola reminds her that she has no idea who Duff is; Peach calls him a word that shocks Lola to hear her say it, especially for a girl who had to correct herself from saying freaking to fucking just moments ago.

“Noted,” Lola nods, and takes another drink; she’s almost a third through the bottle.

“I’m not a child, Lola,” Peach says, as seriously as she can muster, and, as if light a lightbulb has gone off above Lola’s head, she realises why Peach was asking after Nikki.

“You’re not,” Lola agrees slowly, and looks around, hoping to spot Charlotte or Tommy around, someone better suited to talking an angry, determined Peach out of something she’d regret.

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Peach huffed, standing to her full height, which unfortunately for Lola, made her taller by a few inches, “you know what, fuck you, Lola -”

“Peach -”

“No, fuck that, I know that tone -”

“Never thought I’d see you out at a place like this, Peach,” there’s a warm familiarity in the voice that joins them, and Peach visibly relaxes. Lola turns, and sees Vince Neil, bleach blonde, decked out in his usual, obnoxious white.

“Fuck off, Vince,” Peach mumbles, turning back to the window in an attempt to hide her sudden blush. Lola raises her eyebrows and looks to Vince, intrigued. The moment his gaze meets Lola’s, Vince turns quietly awkward, and can do little more than offer a shrug.

“Peach?” He tries again, and Peach finishes her drink, tipping her head back, and doesn’t even seem to notice that she’s started to topple back until he catches her, “fuck, Peach.” He says, still holding her.

“You really should fuck off,” Peach says, softer this time, leaning into him, and something pained flashes across Vince’s expression for the barest moment; Peach doesn’t notice in her state, but Lola sees it.

“Eileen been in your ear lately?” Vince asks through gritted teeth. Peach’s scowl back in full force, and she’s righting herself.

“No,” she snaps, an obvious lie, and she pushes past Lola, making her unsteady way to the kitchen, Vince obviously feeling some sort of obligation to her, following quickly in her wake. Thank God. Lola really didn’t want to take care of a girl she barely knows all night.

She’s two thirds of the way through the bottle of wine, feeling good and buzzed, and she’s made polite conversation with the people she knows and the people she doesn’t, the people who know her by reputation, or from the diner, polite to a fault, knowing too much and too little about her all at once.

Tommy’s roped them into a conversation with a few kids from his year that Lola doesn’t recognize any of them, and one, drunk, brunette, stupid, asks her about the rumours, in a crude, roundabout way. Tommy’s hand is firm on Lola’s shoulder, apology in his eyes as he silently pleads with her to not make a scene. Lola kicks his asshole friend in the shin anyways, and spits that he has terrible taste in friends.

Charlotte waves to her, but Lola doesn’t see it in her angry state, storming up the stairs to the second floor. It’s quieter up here, mostly. There’s a group in a side room playing spin the bottle, and people taking advantage of Heather’s parents’ bedroom, and the door to Heather’s room is closed. Lola bangs her closed fist on the nondescript door.

“Who is it?” Heather’s voice, strained, rings out from the other side.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Lola whined through a lie, banging again. There’s scuffling on the other side, Heather hissing for whoever’s with her to go, to get out the window, anything. Lola smirks, “please, all the other bathrooms are -” and she fake gags, right as the door wrenches open to show Heather’s flustered face, hair a mess, scowling.

“What?”

“I’m lying,” Lola whispered, leaning against the doorframe, pushing down all her annoyance at Tommy and his asshole friends, and playing at being coy. Heather huffs an annoyed breath through her nose.

“I know,” she snaps, but lets Lola in anyways, and Lola automatically closes the door behind herself, leaning her back against it, watching Heather try and act casual, heading to her bed, “should I be jealous?” Lola smirks, and Heather shoots her a filthy look. Lola takes a long drink of the wine, and Heather’s expression turns from angry, to simply annoyed.

“Of course, of fucking course, you, the only asshole who actually knew about it-”

“Your mom can buy another one, it’s not like you’re not -”

“Don’t say it,” Heather warns, sitting on the edge of her bed, and Lola’s smile grows sly and amused. Heather’s gaze flicks to the door handle, “lock that.”

“Yes, Princess,” Lola smirks, reaching over with her free hand, making quick work of locking the door.

“Do not,” Heather hisses at the pet name, and Lola pushes off the door, heading towards her, and offers her the bottle. Heather’s lips press into a thin line as the regards the drink she knows is completely illicit for a number of reasons, before taking it, and taking a drink - “fuck, how much of this have you had?”

In answer, Lola takes the bottle back and finishes it off.

“You’re a pig and a thief,” Heather tells her, but Lola’s smile is all teeth.

“And you kicked out someone - a boy, I’m guessing - for this thieving pig,” Lola reminds her, placing the empty bottle carefully on the nightstand of her luxurious double bed. Heather turns scarlet.

“I thought you’d at least wait until eleven to find me,” she deflects, defensive at the truth in Lola’s words, to which Lola herself actually laughs, flopping back onto the bed, arms spread, two fingers hooking into the back waistband of Heather’s flirty, short skirt.

“The fact that I’m here at all is a miracle, Princess -”

“Don’t.”

“And you know you could have told me to throw up in the garden,” Lola points out. A moment of silence follows, she tugs at Heather’s waistband, and Heather follows the unspoken prompt, leaning back onto the bed.

“Boys don’t know what they’re doing,” she says, staring up at the ceiling, arms folded but feet still planted firmly on the floor, and Lola’s eyes go wide, delighted, twisting onto her side to look at Heather’s blushing face.

“I knew you liked me,” Lola teases, grinning sharp.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Heather scoffs, angling her head back to level a glare at Lola, after a beat, she reaches back, fingers nimble and cold but her grip on Lola’s jaw secure. She frowns at Lola’s lips, rubbing her thumb none too gently over the bottom lip, taking off the black lipstick painted there, staining her own thumb in the process.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Heather prompts, frustrated, tone icy. Lola raises her eyebrows at the blonde's impatience.

“As you command, your highness,” Lola pushes herself up on her elbows, and off the bed, smirking in the face of Heather’s annoyance, before she scrubs at her mouth with the back of her hand, getting rid of the rest of her lipstick.

“I’ll be quick so you can get back to your boytoy,” Lola smirks up at Heather, kneeling between her knees, and in the next moment Heather’s legs clamp painfully tight around her head, bony knees pressing into her temples.

“If you tell fucking anyone I did anything other than get you water while you threw up in my bathroom, I will ruin your fucking life,” she spits, and Lola’s expression contorts into one of furious annoyance as she wrenches her head free, sitting back on her heels.

“As if I’d tell anyone; if you tell anyone, I’ll burn your fucking house down, do not test me on that,” she warns in return, before Heather relaxes and lays back, eyes back on the ceiling, waiting, “fucking pillow princess, I wish you’d get me a glass of water once in a while,” Lola muttered, leaning back in.

“Hey!” Heather objects, looking down, only to see the barely concealed fury smouldering in Lola’s eyes as she looks at Heather through her lashes. Lola orders her to shut up, presses a pointed kiss to her inner thigh, and Heather obeys without any more fuss.

All it took, in the beginning, was for Lola to confront Heather and ask why the fuck she couldn’t keep her eyes to herself during class, fully expecting a fight. It was after school, Lola had followed her into the bathroom after class as the school was emptying. Heather’s lip had curled, derisive, giving Lola a look like she was a bug beneath her shoe.

“You see something you fucking like?” Lola had snarled, ready to square up, chest puffed out, and Heather had rolled her eyes, scoffing about how Lola wasn’t even close to her type, before she’d realised what she’d said.

Neither had known how to proceed in that moment, both terrified of how the other would react, Lola could see the sudden fear in Heather’s eyes at the admission. Very deliberately, Lola had relaxed her posture, looking Heather over with a new appreciation, and Heather had flushed under her gaze.

“I didn’t know it was like that,” Lola had smirked, gaze locking onto Heather’s. The blonde was embarrassed, furious at herself, “well if I ever become your type -” those seven words had changed everything. Immediately, Heather knew exactly what Lola had meant, that she wasn’t a threat in the way she’d feared, and that Lola was like her, in some way, in a way that was safe.

“You’re -?” Heather raised a single, perfect eyebrow at her.

“I don’t advertise it,” Lola said, voice flat, hands in her pockets and shoulders carefully relaxed, “don’t know, you know, who else is... like me.”

“Like you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it here,” Lola had muttered, gaze flicking to the empty stalls, and Heather had given her a long, evaluative look, before stepping forward, apparently finding something she likes.

Heather’s kind of pinning over a straight girl and none of the rest of the school has any idea she likes anything other than boys, and she’d like to keep it that way. No-one really cares about Lola the way they do about Heather, so they feel safe fooling around together at Heather’s under the guise of ‘studying’; they don’t really even like each other as people, it’s more mutually beneficial than anything else, but it’s kind of nice to have this understanding between them, free to be themselves without fear, even if it’s only for short amounts of time.

Now, at the party, when Lola goes to leave the room after all is said and done, hair checked in the mirror, lipstick reapplied neatly, Heather grabs her arm, quiet but no longer irritate in Lola’s presence, and Lola’s eyes go wide with question, but she too is silent. Heather steels herself, steps up to Lola, and then she’s got her fingers carding through Lola’s hair, and holding tight, and Lola lets herself be maneuverer, her head tipping and Heather’s lips on her neck.

When Heather steps back, there’s the beginning of a hickey blooming on the juncture where Lola’s shoulder meets her throat, aching faintly, pleasantly, and her hands are soft on Heather’s hips, lips twitching into a smirk.

“You could have just said thank you,” Lola snorted, and Heather’s frowning, but it doesn’t seem to be specifically at Lola; she rolls her eyes. Lola presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, quick and chaste, and scrubs at the mark she leaves behind before Heather slaps her hand away and tells her to get out, though there’s no anger behind it.

When Lola opens the door, she puts on a show of being a little more unsteady than she really was, and is surprised to see Nikki leaning against the wall a few feet away, chatting to Tommy, looking so carefully casual. Lola’s pretty sure she hears Nikki sigh something about needing to find a guitarist, but that’s the moment Tommy spots Lola. He tries to apologise for his friends, but Lola shrugs, letting the incident go easily.

And then Nikki’s eyes flick to hers, and he asks if she’s okay, and Tommy seems confused but Lola’s hit with a realization. She pulls back her act and tries not to smile too wide.

“I’m fine now, great actually, it’s sweet of you to care,” its absolutely and completely innocent, but she raises an eyebrow at him, as if asking how he knows that she was unwell. In lieu of response, Nikki stands to his full height, walks to the door, and knocks. Lola and Tommy watch, the former far more confused than the latter.

Heather opens the door wide, not a hair out of place, makeup immaculate and untouched, and tells Nikki to fuck off, swanning past him and down to the rest of her party. Nikki turns on Lola.

“You couldn’t have thrown your guts up in a bush somewhere?” Nikki hissed, frustrated, and Lola does a great job at biting back her laughter, shaking her head and shrugging helplessly.

“We’re you waiting out here that whole time?” Lola asks, and Nikki turns amusingly pink, stalking past her to the stairs, to which both Lola and Tommy followed, with Lola calling out a half-hearted apology, and Nikki telling her to shove it up her ass.

gandhi said 'be the change you want to see in the world.' fuck that. be the trouble you want to see in the world.

“Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last night,” the morning after the party, or was it afternoon - midday after Heather’s party - Lola’s tying her red bandana around her head, hip leaning against the counter out the back by the fryer where Nikki was scowling at an order of fries that was bubbling away.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Lola,” Nikki snaps back, looking up at her, still frowning, and Lola’s smile widens, just a little. Nikki sighs, relenting, his voice dropping low, “I’m hungover as fuck, just piss off, can you?” But it doesn’t sound half as cruel as the words themselves imply, and Lola dips to press her cheek to his shoulder in a moment of affectionate familiarity before heading out to start serving customers.

It’s almost one when Charlotte and that English kid, Razzle, walk in, with the tall, pretty ginger, Eileen, sans their usual extras, but they take their spot at their usual booth by the window, talking quietly but animatedly.

“- the nerve on him! Hi, Lola,” Eileen’s practically vibrating with pent up, frustrated energy, greeting Lola with what Eileen probably assumed was a smile, but was still definitely a scowl.

“Everything alright here?” Lola asked, forcing her voice even brighter than she’d usually attempt, and Eileen’s gaze dropped to the menu, going quiet, brooding, while Charlotte sat up a little straighter and smiled, clearly not on such an intense wavelength as her friend.

“Everything’s just great; plotting Vince’s murder, kind of starving, the usual,” she shrugs, and Razzle, by her side, snorts a laugh.

“Good to see you survived the night, Honky Cat,” he adds in lieu of a greeting of his own, and Lola takes a moment to process all the information she’d just been exposed to.

“’course I did, I drank my weight in water between shots,” Lola smirks at Razzle, before her gaze slides to Charlotte, “and that’s very fair; I’d ask what he’s done now, but I think I’ll take care of your order first,” she grins amicably and pulls out her notepad and pen, as the three of them order their usual drinks and lunch preferences.

Lola heads back to the counter, calling out the order to the kitchen, taking another few order to their various destinations, before getting her friends’ drinks together to take them over.

“- home and didn’t even call, Razz, she didn’t even -” Eileen was still ranting by the time Lola deposits their drinks before them. Lola’s pretty sure she saw Razzle and Charlotte deliberately knocking knees beneath the table, but doesn’t think about it too hard. Nor does she dwell on the memory of seeing them at the party last night, of a gaggle of cheerleaders around talking to Razzle, though he just kept trying to talk to Charlotte. Later, she’d definitely seen them on the sofas, talking with Tommy and some of Charlotte’s other friends, leaning in to each other, Razzle’s arm around her shoulders, playing with the whispy ends of her hair. Lola hadn’t thought much of it at the time; she’d made out with Tommy at her first house party in the area, it hadn’t developed past friendship.

It was cute, if it was anything.

“Lola, you were there!” Eileen turned very suddenly, the moment her cup had been placed in front of her, and Lola’s eyebrows shot up, “did you see my sister last night?”

It feels like a trap, because yes, Lola definitely did, but also -

“Yes, why?” Lola asks, slowly, cocking a hip.

“They’re in the middle of a blue,” Razzle said, with a fond smile at Eileen’s carefully neutral expression, while she stirred her drink with intent.

“A fight,” Charlotte translated, “and Peach went to Heather’s last night, and got kind of shitfaced, and Vince took care of her, was really quite sweet, but she stayed with him because his place was closer and Peach refused to call Eileen.”

“She stayed with Vince?” Lola said carefully, trying not to imply she was jumping to conclusions, but Eileen’s stirring ceased in favour of vigorous drinking of the drink, obviously stuck on a similar train of thought.

“She slept on the couch,” Razzle filled in quickly, “was still there when I left, tucked in with a blanket, all above board.”

“And you didn’t know where she was -?” Lola frowns, confused.

“Vince called at three in the morning,” Eileen glowered out the window, voice low and even, “dad was mad until he was grateful; the man’s backbone is made of marshmallow fluff. She was meant to be home at one.”

“But she’s okay?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Lola,” Eileen had said, giving Lola a look far older and longsuffering than her seventeen years.

“If we brought in Vince’s heart, would your dad batter it up and fry it for Eileen to eat?” Charlotte asked, tone teasing and light, to which Eileen rolled her eyes, but at least it got her to smile, even a little. Even when Lola snorted a laugh and told her ‘absolutely not’.

Later, on their break, Lola and Nikki sit on the roof of the building and share a serve of chips that he’d overcooked, and a cigarette, and Lola asks about Vince. Turns out Nikki doesn’t know much; he hadn’t grown up with the rest of them, had moved to the neighbourhood near the start of high school, and all he really knows is that girls apparently think Vince’s dick developed some sort of Midas touch over Summer.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been stupid pretty,” Nikki shoves a chip in his mouth before leaning back on his elbows, “far as I know, but you’ve seen his car, right? That fuck-off, expensive red one that sits in the teacher’s carpark, with the massive scratch in the paint along the left? Yeah that’s his; got it for his birthday last year and he’s been getting tail like nobody’s business ever since.” And Lola tries to process all this information before he’s barrelling right on ahead with, “speaking of; if you’re gonna nail Tommy, can you do it soon and put the poor kid out of his misery?”

“Excuse me?!” Lola had choked on her lungful of smoke, turning red at the suggestion.

“Yeah, poor kid was pretty convinced we were a thing and didn’t want to make a move; kinda stupid, but I dunno, admirable? Noble?” Nikki groaned through his words, laying back against the gravel of the roof, hand out for the cigarette. Lola passed it to him, glad he couldn’t see her vaguely guilty expression, knowing she’d slept with the girl he’d been hitting on the night before.

“Tommy has a thing for anything halfway pretty that’s not related to him, he’d be just as happy to boink any other girl,” Lola points out, and Nikki snorts a laugh in mild agreement, “and the only reason we’re not fucking is because you’re afraid my dad’s gonna rip of your arms like he’s the fucking Wampa from Star Wars.” She punctuates it by eating the last chip, laying out beside Nikki on the gravel, checking her watch. Five minutes before their break ends.

“Leo wouldn’t rip off my arms- I don’t think Leo would rip off my arms!” Nikki counters defensively, but that just has Lola laughing as she corrects -

“Sorry, no, your exact wording was ‘I don’t want your dad to Kali Ma my fucking heart like I’m that little bastard from Indiana Jones’,” Lola does an absolutely atrocious impersonation of Nikki, who’s laughing despite himself, “which you only took back because I told you he wasn’t Indian, and even if he was, it’s kind of a fucked thing to say,” Lola tells him pointedly, shifting onto her side, propping her head up on her hand as she smirked at Nikki.

When Nikki looks at her, green eyes shining in the overcast, afternoon light, there’s something unreadable, teasing and soft all at once, like he’s entertaining an idea he’d considered unthinkable.

“I don’t think I could look Leo in the eye if I banged his daughter,” Nikki’s voice is soft and low, though he’s grinning wide, tone coy, eyes creasing in the corners, and Lola’s gaze flicks to his lips.

“For Leo’s sake, then,” Lola matches his tone, corner of her mouth twitching into a sharp smirk when she finally looks back to his eyes, “and Tommy’s too,” she teases, pushing herself into a sitting position; she can hear it when he presses his head further into the gravel in exasperation, swearing under his breath. When Lola stands and smiles, the picture of innocence, she offers Nikki her hand to help him up; Nikki rolls his eyes, but is still smiling when he accepts.

“Your hair looks dorky like that,” Lola teases as she climbs down the fire escape.

“I know,” Nikki sighs, “but its better than getting hair in everyone’s food; I’m not gonna be the reason your dad fails a health inspection,” Nikki adds, a strange hint of protectiveness in his voice that warms Lola’s heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“Don’t worry, Leo’s never failed a health inspection, he doesn’t intend to start any time soon.”

love is a dream someone else had last night.

Eileen and Razzle see fit to join their ragtag bunch of misfits at lunch the following Monday by the open gate and the science carpark, which Lola had been informed was the teachers’ carpark.

Lola doesn’t care who sits with them, except for the fact that she’d taken the leftover lemon merengue tart from the diner since it was being replaced with an apple crumble, and there was only enough for four. For the past week, Eileen’s been alternating sitting with them and sitting elsewhere, but she hadn’t been here last Monday, so Lola had assumed - anyways, now she’s worried she looks like a bitch, and not for an actual reasonable reason.

“What do you mean you almost got with Heather on Friday?!” Charlotte’s voice was somewhere between a horrified and disbelieving squeak where she was picking at the crust of the piece of tart she was sharing with Eileen. The lemon merengue debacle turned out to not be much of an issue, with Charlotte and Eileen sharing, and Tommy and Lola sharing too. Lola was incredibly focused on picking at a scab through the hole in the knee of her jeans.

“I mean I had my hand in her fucking panties when someone -” Nikki cast a very pointed look to Lola, “knocked on the door threatening to throw up, and I got shoved out a window,” Nikki played up being irritated, despite the fact that he was laying out on his side directly behind Lola, while she was leaning into him.

“You’re my hero,” Eileen told Lola, serious as ever, while Charlotte cackled with delight, and Razzle snickered from where he was touching up the left hand of Tommy’s sharpie-nails.

“You guys are a bunch of assholes,” Nikki huffed, shoving the remained or his own piece of tart into his mouth.

“I brought you food, show some fuckin’ respect,” Lola smirked despite herself, gently elbowing him in the ribs; he flicks her knee in retaliation.

“Absolutely not; you’re a cockblocking traitor and the worst friend I’ve got,” Nikki announced, nose in the air, and Lola leans all her weight back suddenly, tipping Nikki onto his back and laying heavy across his stomach as she demanded he take it back, the two of them getting into a petty squabbling match, shoving at each other while the others could only look on in exasperated amusement.

“I thought Heather had a boyfriend,” Eileen pipes up, to which Charlotte makes a a gentle ‘eh’ noise in the back of her throat.

“She’s getting laid,” Charlotte corrects with half a smirk, and everyone who was paying half attention understand easily. Tommy sighs, but it’s not nearly as dejected as he’s known for whenever the topic of girls he fancies being with other people comes up.

“Whatever, I got to second base with Pam that night, and no-one can take that away from me,” Tommy announces, watching Razzle finish off his pinkie.

“Good for you, man,” Razzle says, with his trademark sincerity. Eileen and Charlotte still can’t believe it happened, but unfortunately both Razzle and Vince had seen with their own two eyes and been able to confirm; Vince may be biased, but Charlotte trusted Razzle.

“Everyone got some fuckin’ action that night except for me,” Nikki whines, finally shoving himself off, “and the fuckin’ Vomit Comet over here,” he jerked his thumb to where Lola was righting herself; Lola flips him off in response.

“I didn’t,” Eileen points out.

“You weren’t there,” Nikki rolls his eyes, “you don’t count.”

Meanwhile Razzle and Charlotte had both gone very quiet, and very pink. However Lola, who had no patience for people trying to hide their somewhere-between-pining-and-sincere feelings from each other and from other people, instead turns her attention to Eileen as she’s sweeping her hair out of her face.

“Have things gotten any better with Peach?” She tried, tone hopeful, and Eileen’s expression barely changed, just the barest crease of a frown upon her forehead, though judging by the way Charlotte’s whole expression soured, things had not, in fact, gotten better.

“Came back on Saturday afternoon all sunny and smiley and mom was thrilled,” Eileen’s deadpan irritation really sold her exasperation at the whole situation, “that she was friends with Vince again, and she hasn’t said a word to me yet.” Eileen takes a deep breath, straightening up from where she’d been slouched without realizing, taking a deep breath, nose in the air as if rising above it all, “which is fine with me, because I have a ton of dialogue to learn and they want us off-book in a month.”

This only sets them off fondly teasing the ever-unflappable Eileen, for her seemingly out of character choice to join the school’s musical, though they were all very proud of the fact that she scored the lead, even Nikki had voiced that he thought it was pretty cool.

When Lola had asked about it, Eileen had made mention that it filled in a lot of free time, that it was something she could add to college applications, and that a friend had convinced her to do it; Keanu -

“I keep hearing that name around,” Lola muses, leaning back in her seat while they were waiting for their French teacher to arrive. Eileen raises her eyebrows, “is that the pretty, dark haired Senior?” Eileen, surprisingly, had flushed scarlet when nodding. Lola hummed thoughtfully, leaning back further until the front legs of her chair lifted from the ground; she hooked her feet around the legs of her desk as she contemplated.

“It’s a musical right?” Lola asked, and Eileen hummed in confirmation, “if you can sing, you know Nikki and Tommy are -”

“I’d rather eat an entire microphone,” Eileen responds flatly, already knowing what Lola was about to suggest before she’d even finished her sentence, and Lola really tries not to laugh, but she knows Eileen well enough by now that that response makes entirely too much sense.

“You make a fair -” and that’s when Lola’s grip on the table slips, her feet sliding quickly up the legs of the desk as she topples backwards, the momentum pulling the desk up with her legs and directly on top of her, winding her. At least it made Eileen laugh, mostly from shock, sure, but Lola counts it as a win.

#motley crue #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #the dirt #the dirt fanfiction #motley crue fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #Razzle Dingley #lola&charlotte #charlotte & lola #the pack

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