#next to the cool bug that's made his home under my dresser. his name is gerald

[mvshortcut]

I feel like the difference between the book and show versions of Kate and Constance is best summed up by the state of their rooms. Because Book Constance has like. Moldy muffin wrappers and 600 socks scattered around the room, which Kate is always tirelessly attempting to tidy.

And I'm going to guess that Show Constance's room is immaculate based off the state of her hair, while I know in my heart that Show Kate's room looks like a tornado passed through it.

[leilabeaux]

In My Sights

Masterlist

Pairing: Assassin Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 2026

Summary: When Ivar’s contracted kill is taken out right in front of his eyes, he didn’t expect it to be at the hands of an old friend.

Warnings: Schmut, Oral (Male receiving)

Author’s Note: This is a oneshot assassin AU. I say oneshot loosely because I have a tendency to just build a whole universe in my head and then boom, I get my hopes set on writing a whole series! So for now I will say no guarantees on a second part.

----

Drops of water had been tapping Ivar’s shoulder for the last hour but all he could do was breathe through his annoyance as he kept his scope sighted on the interior of the penthouse suite. He should have accounted for any potential inconveniences when he decided that the under construction high rise had the best vantage point with its lack of walls. Not much he could do now, even the slightest movement could result in him losing the Mark. He was at least grateful that the water was nowhere near his rifle.

He usually preferred a more hands-on approach when it came to eliminating a target. There was just something he loved about watching the life go out of someone’s eyes up close and personal but, unfortunately, this one was hard to get alone. Believe him, Ivar had spent a good month trying to find the best place to eliminate him without raising any questions. The only option was to sit patiently in the empty building until it was clear to make his move.

Although he was perfectly centered in Ivar’s crosshairs, it would be too risky to take the shot now as he was in the middle of his third lapdance, surrounded by his fellow associates and friends who were also in attendance of the bachelor party.

“Thank the gods,” he whispered to himself when the Mark sat up, took the scantily clad dancer’s hand, and led her to the privacy of the master bedroom. The woman’s back was facing Ivar as she climbed onto the man’s lap and leaned down to give him a kiss, her long red hair swaying back and forth when she began to grind herself against him. 

He was fully prepared to pull the trigger as soon as her head was out of the way when the man started convulsing. The dancer carefully came to her feet and slowly combed her fingers through her hair, watching him grab at his throat as if he was struggling to breathe. Her calm stance turned into something more panicked when she opened the door and ran out of the room. Cursing at himself, Ivar wished he took the time to install some bugs in the suite so he could hear what the hell was going on.

Out of curiosity, he kept his scope centered on the dancer as all the party attendees rushed into the bedroom. Watching as she struggled to pull her coat on, he could tell from the shaking of her shoulders that she had to be crying. The redhead turned around to face the window and suddenly Ivar was looking at your face.

He could only clench his jaw as he watched you wipe the fake tears from your now smiling face and blew a kiss in his direction, giving him a mischievous wave before heading toward the exit. “Fuck!”

----

Ivar had waited around at the warehouse and watched as the Mark was zipped up into a body bag. Missing out on a nearly half million payday from what should have been an easy hit had really soured his mood and had him ready to get back home.

It was a few hours later when Ivar finally made it back to his motel room. Though in his personal life he preferred more luxurious accommodations because a son of Ragnar Lothbrok deserved only the best but when it came to his work, the more rundown the motel was the better. He found that people occupying such establishments kept to themselves and asked no questions.

As he unlocked the door and stepped into the dark room, he had an eerie feeling that he wasn’t alone. A creaking sound had him throwing his dagger into the corner before he quickly turned on the lights. You sat with your legs crossed in the weathered armchair looking completely unbothered by the fact that his weapon had landed only one inch away from your jeweled ear. 

Although you had ditched the red wig and your hair was now back to its natural state, you still stuck out like a sore thumb in the outdated room. You were dressed in a white tailored pantsuit with a hint of a red laced bra showing, the same red that colored the soles of your stilettos. Ivar didn’t know a lot about fashion but he was sure your whole outfit cost more than it would to rent the room out for the next year.

You grinned as you looked him up and down, “Long time no see, handsome.”

Setting his crutch next to the dresser, he went to work unpacking all his weapons from his backpack, ignoring you in the process. He was trying his hardest to seem like he wasn’t shocked over your sudden appearance after not seeing or hearing from you the past seven months. He looked up at the mirror to see you pout before you stood up to walk over to him.

“I’ve missed you. Did you miss me?,” you softly asked. Pressing your cheek against his back as you hugged him from behind, you trailed your hand from his chest down to his waistband, “Oh, Mister Lothbrok, is that a gun in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” you asked before pulling out the beretta from its holster and feigning disappointment, “Darn, it’s a gun again!”

With such quickness, Ivar ripped the gun from your hand and had you backed up against the wall. He glared down on you as he placed it on the dresser.

“Uh-oh, I must be in trouble. That one was always sure to get a laugh,” You smirked.

His face loomed over yours while his hands wrapped around your neck, slowly tightening his hold, “There’s nothing fucking funny. If you missed me so much, you could have called. You wasted a whole month of recon I did on that hit!”

“Baby, please don’t be mad at me.” Fear in your eyes as you struggled to get the words out. At first he thought you were crying until a smile broke out across your face. You weren’t crying, you were laughing, “I can’t help that I’m better than you.”

He pushed you hard against the wall after letting you go. He should have known better. You were trained well enough to get out of the most complicated of holds. You’d probably have him down on the floor if you thought you were in any true danger. Just as he was about to step away, you grabbed his shirt to keep him close.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it but I really am sorry for taking away your kill,” You began to leave kisses up his neck and to his jaw, enjoying the advantage of the extra inches your heels gave you. “Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re going to give me half of the money?”, he asked as he unbuttoned your blazer and slid it off your shoulders.

You snorted, “Hell no, I earned it fair and square. It’s not like you need it anyway.” Switching places with him, you pushed him back against the wall and stroked his semi-hard dick through his pants, “I had something else in mind.”

Ivar leaned down to kiss you deeply, swallowing your moans as he massaged your breast, his fingers brushing against your nipple. His tongue danced against yours while you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, taking care to remove the empty holster and place it next to the gun on the dresser. You pushed down his pants as much as his braces would allow so you could wrap your hand around him and give him a long, hard stroke. Leaning his head back against the wall, he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into your grip.

You giggled against him, your warm breath tickling his neck, “I guess you really did miss me.” You pressed one small kiss under his chin before you lowered yourself down onto your knees.

You continued to slowly stroke his shaft up and down as you took his head into your mouth, circling your tongue around it. He cursed out loud and thrusted his hips, impatient and desperate to have you take him in fully. Your long nails clawed around his hips when he did this. Just as in your professional life, you hated being rushed through a job.

Ivar felt like melting into the wall as you slowly twisted your hand down his dick while taking more of him into your wet mouth. He tangled his hand into your hair, trying to restrain himself from pushing in deeper again after feeling your moans vibrate around him. Though his eyes were shut closed, he knew that you already had your other hand in your panties, busy circling your finger around your clit.

You popped him out of your mouth but continued stroking, “Still mad at me, baby?” You looked up at him through your lashes while you pressed soft open mouth kisses over the crescent indentions you left on his hips.

“Are you going to tell me how you killed this one?,” he managed to get out before letting out a string of curses when you took him by surprise and quickly took him deep into your mouth, your tongue flicking against his balls. If you were ever going to give him an actual answer about your methods, this would be the best time. He probably couldn’t even remember his name right now. 

You took a quick gasp of air as you pulled away from him again. “I’m sorry, my mother told me that it’s rude to talk with your mouth full.” That got a laugh out of him. “Now let your girl work.”

—-

It was a small ray of light shining into his eyes that woke Ivar from his deep slumber. Rolling over to escape the brightness, he hissed when his back met the mattress. He was still tender from where you dug your nails in, holding onto him tight, pleading for him not to stop as he fucked you into the mattress. He grinned to himself while blindly reaching out to you, hoping to get you under him one last time before check out time but all he got was the cool side of the bed. 

Sitting up, he looked around and saw your clothes that he remembered throwing across the room was now gone. Just like with all your kills, there was no sign of you left anywhere if he didn’t count the taste of you still lingering in his mouth.

He didn’t know why he thought it would be different this time. Maybe he hoped you’d want to make up for the lost time and actually be there when he woke for once.

Just as he was about to lie back down, he noticed the brown case near the foot of the bed. He reached over to bring it closer to him, smoothing his hand over the top. It looked like it was an antique and made with Italian leather, he was sure it wasn’t cheap and that whatever was inside of it wasn’t going to be any less expensive. He sighed, thinking that you were due for another lecture about your spending.

He undid the leather straps holding it closed, curious what was inside. It was too small to house a rifle or a shotgun and too big for a knife. He opened the case to find a throwing axe surrounded by the plush red velvet lining. Running his hand over the axe head and then down the rosewood handle, it appeared to be forged with great care. He didn’t want to think about how much you spent on this gift but he couldn’t deny that you had a good eye for exceptionally crafted weapons.

Noticing a piece of paper tucked underneath the blade, he unfolded it and smiled at the familiar scrawl.

“A proper Viking axe for the only man who can fuck me like a heathen. Maybe you’ll have better luck hitting me next time.”

Next time. There was hope for him. As long as she kept her damned hands off his next target.

----

Endnotes: I think the agent assigned to monitor my activity was probably on high alert for a second there as I was searching about sniper rifles, where to keep daggers for easy access, and who picks up dead bodies. I figured searching for how much an assassin makes for each kill would be a step to far though...

----

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius​

[knightowl725]

Healing in a Graveyard

Fandom: Critical Role

For Fjorclay Week 2020′s Modern AU Prompt - a day early because I wrote something very short for today’s actual prompt and got super excited about this one. More chapters to follow.

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828932/chapters/57258880

Chapter One: Just For A Few Days

Fjord had never expected to agree when Beau and Jester first dragged him to see the place. The Blooming Grove.

“It’s a big house near campus,” Jester told him. “They’re very friendly to students, and the prices are very reasonable. Molly said there were lots of empty rooms they want to rent out.”

“Yeah, but it’s in a graveyard,” Fjord reminded her. She ignored him.

"We'll all have rooms near each other and share meals and hang out.”

"If our rooms are next to each other, we can learn morse code and tap messages!" Beau exclaimed, and that one got to him. So he went along to take a look at the place. Yasha and Molly were already living there, and it was Molly that showed them around in the absent landlord’s stead.

Fjord said no at first. He was with Avantika and her crew. He'd gotten in with Avantika early on, when it all first became overwhelming. Classes and a part time job, topped with the social pressures of a smaller school, it was all too much. Avantika had found him then, drawn him in and all but fed him to that…

If he was honest he'd just call it a cult. Like Jester's Traveler but instead of lighthearted mischief it was promising your eternal devotion and doing some mildly illegal shit. They found him at his lowest and made him feel wanted, welcome. Like he was family.

An entire year and some had gone by. And Fjord was getting thinner, more tired, more drawn out every day.

Beau burst into his room one day after class. He was living in a house with the rest of Avantika’s group, The Champions, in a room he shared with three other people. It was a cramped house, and it ate up all the money he made at his part-time job. But that was the price you paid to be family. A Champion.

No one else was home right now, off under Avantika’s guidance to do something in their snake god’s honor. Fjord still felt shivers every time they said its name. 

A rap on his window jolted him upright, books strewn around him on the bed. He went to the window to find Beau crouched outside it, perched on a part of the roof that met the house under his window.

He unlocked the window and flung it open. “Beau! What are you--”

She slid into the room past him. “Intervention!”

“Inter--”

“The semester is nearly over,” she said, starting to wander around the room, piling up his books and school supplies. “There’s only a few weeks left, tons of tests and shit. You said yourself that these...freaks or whatever...are distracting you, and you’re this close to losing your scholarship.”

“Yeah, bu--”

“They take all your money, force you to work with them, act super controlling all the time, and now you can’t even study.”

“They let me miss out today to stud--”

Beau found his duffel bag and began shoving books into it. “You’re staying with me for a few days. Just a few days! Swear. You need to get out of this creepy house--”

“And into the graveyard?’

She gave him a pointed look. “Isn’t it saying something that the graveyard isn’t half as creepy?”

He rolled his eyes, and she went on, “You’re getting a break, dude. You need it. Everyone agrees. We’re intervening and forcing it.”

“Beau--”

“Just a few days,” she insisted, a little softer. “Hang out with your friends, focus on school, then you’ll be back in this shithole selling your soul to whatever like you always dreamed.”

She shoved the open bag, stuffed with books, into his arms like it weighed nothing. He nearly buckled at the sudden weight. “Pack up your laptop and some clothes and shit.”

Fjord tried to argue further, but she was right. He was exhausted. And loud as their friend group was, they knew how to respect someone trying to keep a scholarship. They wouldn’t follow him to the library to drag him to a ‘mandatory meeting’ no one told him about, or burst into class in the middle of a test because he had a ‘personal emergency’ that was just another meeting. Or remind him at least twice a week that he could always drop out and just work full time with them.

With a deep, tired sigh, Fjord relented.

~~~~

It had been raining, a hot summer rain. Sticky and gross.

"C’mon!" Beau ordered, literally dragging him by the arm through the graveyard with her insane strength. "Just stay for, like, three days. Get your head on right."

"There's no way your landlord will let me stay."

"You haven't met the guy," she said with a strange expression. Like bewilderment met respect. It was always the look his friends who lived there wore when talking about their landlord and neighbor. "His family has owned this place since like forever. He acts like a major stoner though I rarely see him smoke, and all he wants is tenants that keep the place lively but not destroyed. And to feed us sometimes. But it's dope vegan shit."

"Sounds like the weirdest hippie ever."

"Oh, he is," she assured him.

And Fjord gave in and followed her up the last steps up to the building they called the “Xhorhas”. 

The building itself was old, but sturdy. A stone and brick structure that had stood longer than some of the Grove’s vibrant trees. It was almost mid-Spring then, and the garden-graveyard was bursting with color and flowers and bugs.

“Don’t be a baby,” Beau snapped when he jolted away from a fat little bumblebee. 

“There aren’t bugs in the house, are there?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes, which he hoped to mean ‘of course not’.

The front porch was a wooden structure, painted white then further painted in mis-matched designs and colors. Various plants covered the railings and hung from the room, and there was a little table, a white wooden bench - also painted - and a single, oversized rocking chair. 

“We painted those,” Beau said. “Caduceus had to tear down the old porch and rebuild, and Jester convinced him to let us paint all over it. Check this out!”

She led him to the bench and dragged him down to sit, then to look under it upside-down. There, painted neatly and lovingly under the bench’s seat, was a series of stylized dicks.

Fjord sighed as Beau cackled. Normally it might get a chuckle out of him, but he was too tired to be amused these days.

“Oh, c’mon you old man,” she said, leading him to the actual door. She pulled it open without a key.

“Is it always unlocked? Won’t people try to break in?”

“To a graveyard house?” she asked. “Honestly I’d like to see them try. You haven’t even seen--”

“Ah, Beauregard?” called a low, gentle voice from inside. “Welcome home.”

“Hey Caduceus,” she replied, wiping her feet on the entry mat - covered in a floral design - before stepping further inside. Fjord mimicked her movements.

The front entryway was probably larger than it seemed, with tall ceilings and a rectangular frame. But it was over-crowded with things. Plants everywhere, hanging and on window sills and standing at the edges of the room. There were plush rugs over stone flooring in muted, worn colors more likely due to age and use than style. There was, to the right, a door leading into another room with a curtain hanging down and a collection of plush, mis-matched chairs around a table. Slightly off center to the left were the stairs up to the actual rooms. To the left, a little shelf crammed full of books, endless plants, and was that a shrine?

“Oh, you brought a guest?”

Beau had stepped towards the left, where a tall figure was peering into hanging plants with a watering can dwarfed by his height.

“Yeah, Caduceus, this is Fjord. The friend we’ve mentioned. Fjord, this our landlord, Caduceus.”

Caduceus looked over and smiled, eyes a little droopy in that calm, might-be-a-stoner-but-might-also-just-look-that-way kinda way. He was a firbolg, a rare breed in this area these days, coated in a layer of gray fur, but with pink eyes, hair, and a neatly trimmed pink beard. He wore plain, loose clothing underneath a vibrantly teal, thin coat that stretched nearly to the floor, covered in pink branches and flowers and beetles. Through one ear looped a thick wooden spiral for an earring.

Caduceus made a face. “I don’t like that word, ‘landlord’. I prefer just being another neighbor. Hullo Mister Fjord.”

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.” Fjord gave an awkward little nod towards the tall man.

“Right, well I wanted to ask if it’s cool if Fjord crashes here for a few days,” Beau said with no warning nor ceremony. Fjord twitched in discomfort. “Maybe a week.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Fjord insisted. “I do have a room--”

“Yeah, in a cultist house with your shitty whatever she is,” Beau snapped.

“Ah, Fjord,” Caduceus said, as if he was suddenly putting the pieces together. “It wouldn’t be any trouble at all.”

“I don’t have any money. I couldn’t pay.”

The firbolg smiled at him. “I didn’t ask for money. You’re a friend of everyone here, and they are my friends. Which, by extension, makes you a friend of mine as well. I wouldn’t turn away a friend who needs a little time away from things.”

Beau gave him a pointed look as if to say, “told you so!”

To Beau, Caduceus said, almost dreamily, “We still have that vacant room.”

“Molly’s old room,” Beau reminded Fjord. Molly, their wild and fabulous tiefling friend, had decided to transfer schools last semester. While it broke the heart of their friend group, he still visited, video chatted, and sent perfumed letters often.

“It’s not much, but there’s a bed and a dresser still. Good enough for a week or so.”

“I couldn’t accept such a generous offer,” Fjord told him. 

“Fjord!” Beau exclaimed. “Let people help you!”

“It’s an entire room, something everyone else is paying for!”

“For like a week, Fjord! And it’s not like people are breaking down the door to live here!”

Fjord glanced at Caduceus, but the man looked unaffected by the comment. Either he was completely vacant, or he was very much in touch with the reality of his home.

“If it’s so important to you,” Caduceus drawled. “I could use some help around the house and the Grove for a few days. I’ve got some projects that have piled up. We could consider that your rent for the week?”

Beau stared holes into Fjord, hands splayed and extended as if to say, “come on!”

“That’s very kind of you, Caduceus,” Fjord said. “I...I suppose it would be a nice break.”

“Finally!” Beau exclaimed. She leapt over to the stairs, thudding up them and shouting, “Jes! We got Fjord for a week!”

“A week!” came a shout from Jester’s familiar voice.

Fjord sighed. Caduceus looked up the stairs smiling. “Such a lively bunch.”

Turning back to Fjord he said, “Let me get you your key.”

~~

Caduceus had been right, the room wasn’t especially noteworthy. But it was clean, with a nice window that overlooked the Grove, including the largest tree there, and simple, sturdy furniture. 

He didn’t have much to his name with him. Avantika and The Champions had taken it poorly when he texted the group chat that he was staying with a friend for the week, but they hadn’t completely flipped out. Still, he wasn’t going to risk going back to that house until he was going back for good. When Beau had grabbed him, they’d focused on taking the things he needed for school so as not to draw attention, and only the bare minimum in anything else.

He had $20 to his name for food for the week, maybe longer. He had two day’s worth of clothes, so he’d be doing laundry every day. Maybe it’d be a good excuse to convince Caleb to let him clean his clothes as well. He somehow always got them covered in dirt and mystery stains. Chem majors.

Caduceus had left him with fresh sheets and linens, as well as a small potted plant. He rattled off instructions and odd musings, then promised it would survive almost anything as long as he watered it every few days and didn’t put it in direct sunlight.

Fjord sat on the edge of the bed, patchwork blankets neatly folded beside him, his duffle bag sitting by the door, and took a breath. There was a large mirror on top of the dresser that looked directly at him. He looked, well. He looked like shit.

His beard, never the full, lush thing he would have preferred, had grown in patchy and speckled with gray. That tiny sliver of gray he’d found at eighteen had expanded into a full-blown chunk at the front of his scalp. His hair was too long, disheveled at this length. His eyes looked sunken and almost bloodshot. He was frowning deeply, his default expression. He sat slumped and tired and worn. Worse than shit, he looked half-dead.

Maybe he could just ask Caduceus to dig him a hole.

~~

He shouldn’t have joked about that, because that was exactly what Caduceus asked him to do pre-dawn the next morning. Luckily, Caduceus was an early riser, which was the only time Fjord had reliably free before classes and work.

“Do I want to know what these holes are for?” Fjord asked gingerly, looking at the shovel handed to him.

“I would think it’s fairly obvious,” Caduceus said, a little perplexed and a little amused in one.

Fjord cleared his throat. “Right. Okay.”

Caduceus worked right alongside him, digging, then breaking from that to stay nearby. He cared for plants, cleaned gravestones, laid out flowers, and prepared these new gravesites. He worked in relative silence, occasionally humming some song or another seemingly without realizing. Sometimes Fjord heard him murmuring to the plants. He’d heard of people talking to plants, and, frankly, it would have been weirder if Caduceus didn’t.

Fjord finished his work as the sun rose, a little worn and sweaty, covered in dirt, but good. He hadn’t been exercising with Beau as much these past few months. Or the past year, really. He was just too damned tired these days. But it felt good to do something physical again.

“Ah, got that done much faster than I expected,” Caduceus said happily. He looked over the grave sites, then nodded in approval. “You did an excellent job. You’re stronger than you seem.”

“I spent a few years working on ships,” Fjord said. The reason he had started college later than most.

“On the ocean?”

“Yeah,” Fjord said.

“That sounds nice,” he said dreamily. “Never been to the ocean.”

“Really?” Fjord asked. “You, uh, you might like it. Not as many plants, at least not that you can easily see. But it’s beautiful. Calming.”

Caduceus leaned on his own shovel like a staff, closing his eyes for a moment as though he were picturing it. “Maybe I’ll go someday.”

They were quiet for a moment, seeing the sun cresting the earth, casting light over the graveyard. 

“Well, that’s enough for today, I think,” Caduceus said. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

Fjord followed him back to the house, bounding up the stairs to shower and change into his only other set of clothes. The biggest downside to the Xhorhas was that it only boasted two bathrooms to share between the residents, two and one more on the third floor for Caduceus. At least each shower was beyond its own door from the sink and toilet, which was something. 

Not many were up at this hour, so he had an entire bathroom to himself. He showered briskly, then took a moment to shave. His hair would have to wait. Maybe Yasha would cut it? She cut Caleb’s hair that one time. Or was that his beard? He couldn’t remember anything besides it involving a sword.

He passed Nott on the way downstairs, who griped at him for ‘taking forever’. Nott was the only non-student in the house, besides maybe Caduceus. She was staying there to save money while she waited for her husband and her son to be able to move to the area, where they hoped to get a proper house for themselves. And maybe Caleb.

When he reached downstairs, noting he still had time for breakfast and maybe some studying before class, he found an odd sight. Carefully arranged in the limited space of the front entry were two yoga mats, on which Caduceus and Beau were finishing up their yoga session.

“Oh, hey Fjord,” Beau said from a twisted stance that was certainly not human. 

Caduceus released a sigh as he unfurled himself. “Mister Fjord, we’re about to do some meditating if you’d like to join us.”

Beau’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah. Caduceus does the best guided meditations, man.”

“I’m not really one for meditation,” he said.

Before Beau could complain, Caduceus nodded, closing his eyes calmly and saying, “That’s quite alright. If you ever need to calm your mind or find some peace, you’re welcome to join us.”

“Uh, thank you,” Fjord said. 

He slung his bag over his shoulder and quickly left the house and The Blooming Grove. If he swung by the cafe he worked at, he might be able to get some day-old pastries or breakfast sandwiches for a discount. Of course, only The Champions worked there, so he’d be at a risk. 

He was scheduled for this afternoon, and he had to work. But he wasn’t ready to face any of them.

Might be better just to skip breakfast.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Not The Last Time

A/N: 10 smooches down and 9 to go! This one wraps up the Logan requests with a little follow up to The Bottom AU. 

Word Count: 2,497

Prompt from: @gollyderek 

She told me this would happen. Logan thought back to your warning, to the serious way you looked at him when you begged him to heed your words. He remembered the way you’d squeezed his hand, eyes watering as you’d said his name. She told me, and I didn’t listen, and now… He groaned and rolled over in bed, his bones aching and his head on fire, pulling the sweat-soaked sheet up to his chin. It was day three of absolute misery, and he couldn’t deny any longer that he should have listened to you. But even in his feverish suffering, a small part of him knew it wouldn’t be the last time that this happened. He clamped his swollen eyes shut and tucked his face into the pillow, shivering as his joints screamed and another pitiful groan emanated from the back of his sore throat. 

But I don’t regret a minute.

It was the flu, and you’d had it first. Well, Juliet had it first, and then she generously spread it to you and Tony in the conference room. Juliet was likely the most dedicated person you’d ever met, aside from Logan, and she hated missing work for any reason. Logan had been away meeting with investors who hadn’t come out to the last fundraising event because they had chosen to remain anonymous. Out of the four of you, he was the one best suited to handle donor relations among a few other administrative responsibilities having had such a strong background in dealing with investments for various Delos Incorporated projects and campaigns. While in the two years since breaking ground on The Door rehabilitation facility he’d stepped back from a few of his duties, handing the reins over mostly to you and Tony and the staff that had been hired, he and Juliet remained largely involved in important decisions and operations. With him gone for several days to secure this new substantial donation, Juliet simply couldn’t justify staying home for what she thought were just some sniffles, despite you and Tony assuring her that she should. 

One sneeze led to another, and before you knew it all three of you were down for the count with high fevers, debilitating head and body aches, and a barking cough that left your throat raw. You were sure that working at the facility, being around lots of different people in lots of different states of addiction and rehabilitation, lots of different states of health would mean that eventually, your immune system would become invincible. But eventually was still a ways off, and this particular strain of the flu was ruthless. By the third day of Logan’s absence, you were completely bed ridden, and when he called that night you hardly had a voice to answer with. 

“You sound terrible,” he groaned after your weak, raspy greeting. 

“Miss you too, Logan,” you tried for sarcasm but ended up sounding pathetic. 

“You need me to come back early?” 

You shook your head back and forth across your pillow, dizzying yourself further as you clutched the phone to your ear. “No. No, you have to meet with the donors, Logan, it’s” you paused to cough, a wet hacking wheeze that you knew was only making him more concerned. “It’s important for the center.” 

“But you sound…”

“I’ll be fine, Logan,” you tried to sound assuring, but you knew you didn’t. “Promise. It’s just the flu.” 

You’d made him swear not to cut the trip short just because you were under the weather, and he begrudgingly agreed. You’d then proceeded to sleep for most of the remaining two days that he was gone, forcing down some broth and tea in the few hours you’d spent awake.  

You and Logan had been officially seeing one another for about 8 months before he’d left on this trip. You hadn’t moved in together yet, but you had keys to his place and he had a copy of yours that he used regularly. You rarely spent more than two consecutive nights in separate beds, Logan letting himself into your apartment with a bag full of groceries to cook dinner for both of you, or you heading to his place after a long day, arms laden with takeout bags. It was amazing how different things were for the two of you now, compared to how things were when you met. Now when you sprawled out on couches, draped across one another, it was because you were exhausted from a full day’s work, or full from a healthy meal. Even though you’d known every inch of Logan’s body back then, and he was an expert on yours, you’d taken things slowly this time. Between the two of you you’d had enough brushes with death to make you truly appreciate all the little things in life, bringing your focus to the future; to ensuring that you’d have one together. You were afforded time now that you didn’t know you’d have then, and you spent every last second of it like pennies in a change jar. 

You’d been asleep on the couch, giving yourself a change of scenery from the bedroom, when the scraping sound of a key in the lock opened your eyes. You slowly sat up as the door opened, peeking out from under your blanket cocoon and over the back of the couch as Logan stepped into view. Even though you still felt awful, the second your eyes landed on him you were comforted. He’s home. But at the same time, you didn’t want to get him sick. You’d told him not to come over until you were better, and it was a testament to how delerious you were that you believed he’d listen. He shut the door behind him and turned in your direction, a deep sigh falling from his lips at the sight of you. 

“Hey,” he said softly, already halfway to the flu infected pile of sweatpants and blankets you’d become. “How are you feeling?” He scooped up your legs and sat on the couch with you, draping them over his lap. 

“Logan,” you groaned. “You’re gonna get sick… I told you not to-” the rest of your sentence was swallowed by a sneeze as you turned your face into your pillow. 

He brought one hand up to your cheek, his fingertips delightfully cool on your feverish skin. “I know what you told me.” His eyes met yours as you turned back to him, and as always you were socked by the affection you saw there. He leaned down to kiss your opposite cheek, and you whimpered at the feeling of his beard brushing your face. “I don’t care if I get sick,” he told you, one arm winding beneath your shoulders, the other going back under your legs. “You need me, so I’m here.” You tried to protest again, but he placed another kiss to your cheek. “Shh, come on,” he stood and you felt his strong arms flex under your weak frame as he cradled you close to his chest and carried you to bed. “You eat anything today?” he asked, nudging the door open with his foot. 

“Had some soup. Juliet dropped it off. She’s back to work already.” He settled you into the bed and you sunk into the mattress, a yawn slipping out as he slipped his shoes off. 

“Good.” Logan unbuttoned his jacket and removed it, tossing it over the back of the chair in the corner before doing the same with his dress shirt and pants. 

“Logan, what are you-” you tried to sit up but he laid a hand on your shoulder and gently but firmly pushed you back into the pillows as he climbed into bed beside you. Wrapping one arm around you, he dragged you against his body and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re sick. And I missed you. I’m staying. I’m taking care of you, and,” he swiped your sweat slicked hair from your eyes. “I’m holdin’ you. C’mon, take a nap with me. I’m jet lagged as fuck and you need your rest.”

You shook your head against his chest, but you gave in knowing there was no changing his mind. “You’re gonna get this damn flu.” 

His fingers traced up and down the back of your neck and it was the most soothing thing you’d felt in days. “That’s okay, I’m sure it won’t be the last time.” 

As much as you hated the idea of him going through what you’d been feeling for the last few days, you couldn’t help but smile at his words. He meant it, and you knew it- he was in it for the long haul with you, and while you both would prefer not to catch bugs like this one, you knew that what he was really saying was that he was there for you, always. You drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing and the way it felt to have his arms around you again. 

You woke up the next morning feeling head and shoulders better, and by the following morning you were over the worst of your symptoms. But Logan’s had just begun. 

..  .. ..  .. .. ..  .. ..

“You should stay here,” you suggested, brushing your hair in the mirror but looking at him laid out in your bed behind you as you spoke. “Keep all the germs in one place.” 

He grunted a response that sounded like “I’m not sick.” And you turned, setting your brush down on your dresser to cross the room to the bed. 

“Yes, you are, Logan. You have the flu.” You pulled the blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders. “I’m only going in for a few hours, just to catch up on what I missed the last couple of  days.” You combed your fingers through his hair as he blinked up at you, eyes swollen and watering. “Then I’ll be right back here with you.” 

“I’m gonna kill my sister for spreading this fuckin flu,” there was absolutely no conviction in his voice.

“I know,” you leaned down to kiss the corner of his eye, and he weakly gripped your wrist, running his thumb slowly over your pulse point. 

“I hate bein sick...feels so… useless…” he broke off into a fit of coughs that you felt in your own chest. 

“You’re not useless, Logan. You just need to rest and get better. I’m gonna be back before you know it, and then I’ll take care of you like you did for me. Promise.�� You set him up with some tea, a box of tissues, and changed out the blanket he’d been using for a fresh one. By the time you were satisfied with the level of care you’d provided, he was already snoring and you quietly crept out of the room, wishing you could stay but knowing you needed to get into the office to return some calls and emails. I’ll be back as soon as I can, Logan, you thought, closing the door behind you. Love you, Delos.

You hadn’t started using that word yet, even though you both knew that it was there. But you hadn’t kept it from your thoughts, and you found yourself thinking it often. Over the next few days you worked partially from home, spending a few hours each morning in meetings and helping out with intake at the center, and then returning with some work so that you could be around to take care of Logan, loving him like he loved you. 

..  .. ..  .. .. ..  .. ..

On the fourth day after coming back from his trip, Logan woke up feeling completely better, but alone in your bed. Running his hands over the sheets on your side, he thought about how miserable the last week had been, the two of you sick as dogs. But I would do it again in a heartbeat. I love her… 

He got up and showered, changing into a clean pair of sweats and pulling a tee shirt over his head before emerging from the bedroom for the first time in days. He found you in the kitchen, cursing under your breath as you tried to scrape the burnt eggs from the pan. She’s a terrible cook. He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest as you deposited the burnt eggs in the garbage, frustration on your face. You set the pan back on the stove and turned to the refrigerator to grab new eggs, muttering to yourself, when you saw him and stopped. “Oh!” You smiled, forgetting how annoyed you were with the eggs and your endearing lack of culinary skills. “Hey, how are you feeling? Better?” 

Logan nodded. “Much.” 

“I was trying to cook you breakfast...been a couple days since you ate real food. I know the broth diet sucks,” you shrugged. “But, I suck at cooking so…” 

You do. He let his arms drop as he walked into the kitchen, and took the egg carton from your hands, setting it on the counter. Gripping your hip, he tugged you closer and pressed his lips to your for the first time since he’d been home. He felt your gasp against his mouth before you eased into the kiss, and he moved the hand at your hip around to your back, fingers clutching the fabric of your tee shirt. Sunlight spilled in through the skylight in your kitchen, and he felt its warmth combined with the warmth of your body as you melted against one another. He broke away with a gentle tug at your bottom lip, then swept his thumb under your eye. 

“What was that for?” You asked, breathless and grinning. 

“That?” Logan shrugged, his hands still on you. “That was for nothing.” No reason was his favorite reason to kiss you, but the next few reasons he was about to share were right up there on the list. “But this is for takin care of me.” He leaned back in capturing your lips once more. “And this is because I love you.” You let out another gasp as he spoke the words against your mouth. “And this…” He pulled back and looked into your eyes, and what he saw there made him completely sure of his next words. “This is because I want you to move in with me…” he left a small kiss on your cheek before pulling back again. “What do you think about that?” 

You let out a breath, your mouth open in shock, but you recovered quickly reaching up and tangling your fingers in his hair. “I think you were right. It’s not the last time we’re gonna get each other sick. I think I love you, Logan Delos, and I think this is my answer,” You kissed him then, and his arms tightened around you. When you pulled away, you were both grinning ear to ear. “And I think you should take over in here, if you actually want your food to be edible.”

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @agent-bossypants @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @belladonnarey @ymariejp @obscurilicious @ms-delos @songtoyou @gollyderek @traeumerinwitzhelden @breanime @drinix 

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!! 

[lumosinlove]

Solntse

part ii

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

“Your apartment has flees.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remus! Life is good?”

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

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

“Each other.” Remus supplies.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Have a good flight.”

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ready for what? Remus wants to ask.

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

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

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

“Sydney, ah…Hard for me to say.”

“Australia.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remus isn’t going to say no to that.

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

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

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

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

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

“I, ah, lonely?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m stay here lot, they know me.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, always.”

“Born here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remus swallows, “I—I didn’t mean—“

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

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

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

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

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

Remus looks on in confusion, “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remus nods, “Nothing like Russia, huh?”

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

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

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

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

[findingschmomo]

[UshIwaOi] Bridge the Gap Chapter 3: Nausea

Title:  Bridge the Gap Pairings: UshIwaOi Rating: T Genre: Established Polyamory, Child!Kageyama, Angst,  Past Child Abuse

In which Oikawa struggles to forgive, Ushijima struggles for words and Iwaizumi struggles to relate.They find their answers with each other, and surprisingly enough, with the boy loitering outside their window.

“Oikawa can’t imagine Iwaizumi getting married, because it would mean less time together. It would mean sharing Iwaizumi, and Oikawa has never been good at sharing. Unless they got married to each other. But Iwaizumi wants kids, and Oikawa isn’t a mom and he may not know all the specifics but he’s pretty sure babies only come from moms.”

Links: AO3

“Oikawa-san, are you alright?”

Oikawa lifts his head up from the desk, blinking up at his assistant. He straightens, up, running a hand through his carefully crafted hair. He offers a mischievous smile, a wink and a finger pressed to his lips.

Yahaba frowns, “Oikawa-san, are you sleeping ok?”

Oikawa lets out a sigh, “It’s so cute that you worry about me, Yahaba.” Oikawa stretches out his hand to crack his elbow, fingers dancing in the air towards the manila folder Yahaba has in his arms, clearly meant for him. Yahaba offers his own sigh and little frown, obediently handing the folder over.

“I’m making coffee,” he adds, “Do you want some?”

“Yes, please!” Oikawa sings, flipping the folder open. He scans the first introductory page of a new civil case. Another divorce filing. Accusations of domestic violence and verbal abuse. Questions about the kids. Of course there were kids. There were always kids.

Little devils, Oikawa thinks.

He looks up when Yahaba sits down beside him, offering a steaming cup of black coffee. Oikawa raises an eyebrow, and Yahaba slides over the entire basket of cream and sugar packets. Oikawa grins at him appreciatively, hurrying to smother the bitterness of his drink as fast as possible.

“So I’m guessing you’re not sleeping because you’re fighting with Iwaizumi-san?” Yahaba asks, pointedly, stirring his cup almost daintily. A ploy, clearly.

Oikawa frowns at him, “What makes you say that?”

“I asked Iwaizumi-san about your mood yesterday and he didn’t want to talk about it. Which means he must be involved.”

“Or,” Oikawa points out, “Iwa-chan’s a loyal partner who doesn’t air my business to nosy coworkers.”

Yahaba is unimpressed, “Iwaizumi-san looks terrible himself. Should I visit the flower shop to see if Ushijima-san is also hanging by a thread?”

“You know, your keen eye used to be cute when it was only about cases,” Oikawa grumbles.

Yahaba smiles at him, wide and fake, “I learned from the best, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes, pursing his lips out before taking a sip of his coffee, “I’m waiting for an apology.”

“Does Iwaizumi-san know that?”

Oikawa grimaces.

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

Oikawa remembers the first time he ever felt inadequate.

It’s Iwaizumi’s eighth birthday. They’re outside in his backyard, their entire class crowding around the cake. Oikawa sits in the seat of honor beside the birthday boy, watching Iwaizumi think long and hard about his wish.

Oikawa sits up, miming as if to blow out the candles himself. Iwaizumi squawks, shoving him back, with a shout of, “Stop it, Tooru!”

Oikawa snickers and finally Iwaizumi blows his candles out and the party cheers. Iwaizumi’s father cuts the cake, making sure Oikawa gets the second slice, one with a big heaping of frosting. Oikawa’s mother snaps a picture of him and Iwaizumi with their cakes and it’s one of the rare ones where Iwaizumi is grinning. Oikawa still has the picture framed in his room.

Later that night, once all the guests have left, except for Oikawa, who had begged his parents to let him sleepover, Oikawa asks Iwaizumi what he wished for.

“If I tell you it won’t come true,” Iwaizumi points out. He’s sitting on his floor, a thick book laying out in front of him. It was the gift Oikawa had gotten him: an encyclopedia of native bugs found in Japan. Iwaizumi had not put it down since receiving it.

“But best friends tell each other everything,” Oikawa replies, “I always tell you my wishes.”

Iwaizumi snorts, flipping a page over, “That’s just because you never stop talking.”

Oikawa sticks his tongue out, “Iwa-chan’s a meanie! Fine, I’ll never talk to you again.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “You already gave me a birthday present, I don’t need another one.”

Oikawa glares at him, but remains silent. Iwaizumi laughs. Oikawa looks away. Iwaizumi returns to his book.

Two whole minutes pass.

Iwaizumi turns the page.

Oikawa shifts slightly, so he can see Iwaizumi better in his peripheral. He’s still reading, seemingly unbothered. Oikawa squeezes his fingers into his palms and sniffles.

Iwaizumi looks up at the noise, betraying his hyper alertness, “Are you crying?”

Oikawa stays silent, glaring at the wall.

“Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks, tilting his head and coming closer, “Why are you crying?”

Oikawa makes a haughty puff of air, and the illusion is shattered. Iwaizumi stares at him, “Are you crying because I won’t tell you my wish? That’s so stupid.”

“You’re stupid!” Oikawa shouts back.

Iwaizumi laughs, “Wow, I thought you weren’t supposed to talk to me anymore.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whimpers, “Why are you so mean to me?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but the book is finally forgotten as he tackles Oikawa to the ground to tickle him. Oikawa lets out a bark of a laugh, whining as he tries to retaliate, and the two end up rolling around the floor cackling to each other. Iwaizumi’s mother stops them eventually, complaining of how late it is and forces them to bed.

Once she’s turned the light off and given each of them a goodnight kiss, Iwaizumi turns to Oikawa, green eyes bright in the darkness, “I wished for a little brother.”

Oikawa blinks, turning to face him as well so that they both lay on their sides, “Why?”

“I really want one,” Iwaizumi whispers.

“I hate my sister,” Oikawa sighs, “Why would you want to share stuff with someone else? Also then you’d have to deal with a gross baby!”

“Babies aren’t gross,” Iwaizumi says, “Your sister’s cool. She’s in high school.”

“Babies are gross. All they do is poop and scream, Iwa-chan.”

“You do that too.”

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi laughs, rolling back onto his back to stare at his ceiling, “I mean, don’t you want to be a Dad when you’re a grown up?”

Oikawa sticks his tongue out in disgust, “Gross, no.”

Iwaizumi frowns a little, “Well, I want to. I think it would be cool. To be a dad and get married and have a kid and stuff.”

“Iwa-chan will never find a wife because of his ugly frown,” Oikawa points out. Iwaizumi slaps him, and Oikawa whines and the conversation ends. Iwaizumi falls asleep soon after, muttering about stupidkawa under his breath.

Oikawa stays up most of the night, a new emotion he cant quite name swirling in his stomach and making him nauseous. He stares up at the ceiling, focusing all his energy on keeping his breathing steady. His stomach curdles and his legs twist about under the sheets restlessly, but slow enough as not to disturb his bed neighbor. He spends the night picking at the blanket covering him and watching Iwaizumi breathe in his sleep.

He thinks about having children, and being a grown up and getting married.

Oikawa can’t imagine Iwaizumi getting married, because it would mean less time together. It would mean sharing Iwaizumi, and Oikawa has never been good at sharing. Unless they got married to each other. But Iwaizumi wants kids, and Oikawa isn’t a mom and he may not know all the specifics but he’s pretty sure babies only come from moms.

He swallows, fingers digging into his palms hard enough to hurt.

Kids are stupid, he thinks as he squeezes his eyes shut.

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

Yahaba convinces Oikawa to sleep in the next day and come to work in the afternoon. Oikawa is actually able to sleep, luckily, and he awakens feeling better than he has in weeks. He steps out of his room into the warm late morning sunlight to find an empty apartment.

He checks the two neighboring bedrooms just to be sure. Ushijima’s is directly across from him, sparsely decorated and barely lived in. The walls are blank. The full bed, covered in dull blue and black plaid sheets, sits in the middle of the room against the far wall with  a plain dresser beside it.

He pulls his head back to peer next door, into Iwaizumi’s bedroom. Old movie posters adorn some of the wall space, and the full bed is neatly made with a deep forest green comforter that Oikawa had specifically bought to bring out Iwaizumi’s eyes. He steps into this room, fingers dancing along Iwaizumi’s large dresser. They trace along the photo frames littered upon it, most of them gifts from Oikawa himself.

Pictures of him and Iwaizumi from summer, pictures of him and Iwaizumi from their high school volleyball team, pictures of him, Iwaizumi and Ushijima from university, memories upon memories upon memories. Oikawa smiles. He sits down on the bed, letting out a soft sigh. His hand smooths out the comforter, sliding down until it can take hold of the raggedy Godzilla plushie. He shoves his face into it, squeezing it tightly to his chest.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets go.

He misses him.

When he enters the kitchen he finds a plate with eggs and toast left on the table for him, and he can’t help the soft smile that colors his features at the sight. He had been purposely eating away from home, ignoring Ushijima’s concerns and ignoring Iwaizumi completely. It’s nice to be remembered and loved despite his childishly petty actions.

He misses them.

He decides, then, as he bites into the toast, that he’ll end the fight himself. Iwaizumi’s fascination with children is something he’s known for forever, something he fully understood when he’d agreed to this relationship. He is still bitter about being excluded, but he can understand Iwaizumi’s reluctance. He had never really hidden his own disgust. He shouldn’t have blown up at him like he had.

It’s the stress, Oikawa thinks to himself, once this whole thing blows over it won’t feel like I’m walking on the edge of a mental breakdown all the time.

He finishes his solitary breakfast, sets up the dishwasher and then pads back to his room to get ready for the day. He still has time before he needs to head to the office, so he climbs down the steps to the flower shop, hoping Ushijima will entertain him for a bit.

He finds a boy sitting at the counter instead.

Not just a boy, the boy.

Oikawa fights back a grimace, quickly looking away to search for Ushijima. But the boy has noticed him, and his blue eyes are boring holes into the back of his head. Oikawa takes in a breath before turning to him, teeth gritted behind his closed lip smile.

“You know, it’s rude to stare at adults like that,” he says.

The boy startles, face reddening as he quickly ducks his head back down. Oikawa raises an eyebrow, smile slipping off his face, “It’s also rude to ignore them when they’re speaking to  you.”

The boy looks like his head might explode, but he barks out a quick response, “Sorry, Trashykawa-san.”

Oikawa stares at the boy.

He. Hates. Children.

“Excuse me?” he hisses, taking a step forward.

The boy stares at him wide eyed, fingers fidgeting with the ends of his long sleeves, “That-That’s what Iwaizumi-san called you?”

Oikawa narrows his eyes, “My name is Oikawa. Oikawa Tooru.” The boy nods, quickly. Oikawa’s stare bores into him, narrowed and almost predatory, “And your name?”

“Kageyama,” the boy murmurs.

Oikawa leans in further, menacingly, “Your full name?”

Kageyama swallows, “Kageyama Tobio.”

“Well, Tobio-chan, it’s been a pleasure meeting you,” Oikawa says, words dripping malice in his overtly sweet tone. Kageyama looks confused, eyebrows furrowed, face contorted, as if he cant parse through the layers in his phrasing.

Oikawa doesn’t bother alleviating him of his troubles, turning away with a petulant huff to try to find Ushijima. He spots him near the back, organizing his tools. He comes over, sliding a hand along his back, before resting it on his hip.

Ushijima turns to him, blinking his golden eyes, “Hello, Oikawa.”

Oikawa snorts, pecking him chastely, “Hello, Ushiwaka.”

“Are you going to work now?”

“I am.”

“Have a good day,” he nods, and then turns back to the task on hand.

Oikawa squeezes the other man’s bicep, getting his attention again, “I met your new employee properly, finally.”

Ushijima blinks at him, nodding once more.

“I don’t see why the both of you are so smitten with that brat,” Oikawa can’t help but sneer.

Ushijima frowns, “He is not a brat.”

Oikawa sighs, “Whatever, I’m off.”

“Have a good day, Oikawa,” Ushijima says again.

Oikawa leaves the shop, but he can’t help glancing back at Kageyama as he leaves, still sitting at the counter, on guard and attentive.  

Kageyama stares at him the whole way through.

It makes his stomach curdle with nausea.

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

“Fascinating,” Oikawa says, his phone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder. His right hand picks at some dirt underneath his left middle fingernail.

“Tooru, are you even listening to me?” his sister’s voice huffs through the line. He hums. She’s not impressed, “This is serious!”

“It’s an ugly cat statue,” Oikawa bites back, taking the phone in his hand to straighten himself up.

“It’s mom’s precious ugly cat statue, smart-ass,” Fumiko snaps back, “And she’s furious. Have you talked to him yet?”

“I called yesterday and he didn’t pick up. Why don’t you call him? If it’s so important? I’m really busy too you know.”

“You don’t have to deal with mom every day. You think I’m not busy? Takeru’s got his college entrance exams coming up. You can at least do this for me, since you’re not here to help.”

Oikawa bites at his middle finger nail, trying to get the pesky fleck of dirt out and only managing to bite down his nail. So be it. He works on evening out the rest of his fingers while he’s at it, “Nee-chan, I’m doing my best.”

There’s a long sigh, “Just get him on the phone alright? Mom really wants her figurine back.”

“I’ll call him again, I promise,” Oikawa acquiesces, he flicks his gaze at his watch, “I have to go, Nee-chan, my lunch breaks almost up.”

“Alright, I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies back before pocketing the phone away. He takes a moment, standing outside his office building, to breathe. He lets his fingers run through his hair, once, twice, and then he sinks his grasp into the brown tendrils and lets out a muffled growl through gritted teeth. He stomps his foot once and then breathes it all out. With that he straightens up, letting his troubles roll right off his shoulders before he walks back into his office.

He rides the elevator up to the fourth floor. He does not want to call his father. He does not want his call to be misconstrued as an accusation, because he doubts the man has taken his mother’s cat figurine, which, mind you, had been collecting dust unnoticed for the entirety of his life until this week. He leans against the elevator wall, frustration rising within him every level he goes up the building despite his best efforts.

By the time he reaches the fourth floor he is seething, enough that Yahaba steers clear of him entirely. Rage pushes him to be productive, reading through piles and piles of papers, taking down efficient notes in a storm of activity.

He doesn’t realize the time until Yahaba’s hand on his shoulder startles him back to reality. His assistant smiles at him, “It’s late, Oikawa. You should go home.”

Oikawa blinks, mulls over staying another half hour but decides to accept the offer. He’s tired.

He’s tired of everything lately.

By the time he gets home Iwaizumi has finished making dinner, and Ushijima has set the table. They both blink at the sight of him, but offer their usual greetings. Still, Oikawa can feel the tension in the air. He’s not surprised, he hadn’t had dinner with his boyfriends in a few days now.

He slips into his bedroom to change out of his work clothes, putting on his flannel pajama pants, and an old sweatshirt he’d stolen from Iwaizumi long ago. When he returns to the kitchen his boyfriends watch him quietly from their places by their food, alert, wary. Oikawa takes his seat, lifting up his pair of chopsticks and digging in. The other men soon follow, sharing a glance that Oikawa catches.

He smiles behind his chopsticks, the anger of today leaving him finally now that he’s home, being fed, and in the best company in the world. Time to end this stupid petty fight he decides. He misses cuddlying, and he’s punished Iwaizumi enough. He looks up, flicking his gaze between the two, “Let’s all watch a movie tonight.”

Iwaizumi’s head lifts up immediately, green eyes wide, “A movie?”

Oikawa hums, looking back down at his bowl, “I was thinking of Jurassic Park.”

Iwaizumi’s reaction is immediate as he stands up, chair screeching back, “I’ll go set it up!”

Oikawa laughs, holding out a hand to stop him, “Iwa-chan don’t be silly! We need to finish dinner first.”

Iwaizumi reddens a little as he sits himself back down. Even Ushijima looks amused at the whole display, quirked lips hiding behind his lifted bowl yet still shining through his glimmering golden eyes. Iwaizumi can feel it burning him so he ducks his head low, scarfing his food down as fast as possible. So they can start his favorite movie, and he can sit beside Oikawa and things can be fine again.

Oikawa watches it all knowingly, not even bothering to hide his admiring gaze, because he knows Iwaizumi is too caught up in his excitement to notice.

Oikawa loves him.

He loves him so much.

Ushijima and Oikawa finish their meal in peace while Iwaizumi battles with their DVD player. Ushijima leaves to make popcorn. Oikawa sits himself down in the middle of the couch, legs curling up underneath himself. Iwaizumi grabs the blanket and sits down beside him, throwing the blanket over them. Oikawa leans onto his shoulder.

Iwaizumi pulls back a moment, turning his face to him. Oikawa can see the conflict battling within his eyes and so he waits for it, “I’m sorry Tooru, for, for blowing up like that and going behind your back.”

Oikawa sighs, lifting a hand up to trace Iwaizumi’s strong jaw, “It was a jerky thing to do Iwa-chan,” Oikawa agrees, “but I suppose I can forgive you.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but his own hand comes up to cover the one on his cheek, taking it delicately in his soft grip to kiss it. Oikawa lets out a little giggle, leaning in closer. Iwaizumi smiles as he peppers his hand with small kisses, teeth peeking out as his grin widens. He pulls back to gaze at Oikawa, “You know you mean the world to me, right?”

Oikawa feels his heart swell, leaning forward to kiss his boyfriend, “Just the world?”

“And the moon and stars,” Iwaizumi adds easily, kissing him again.

Oikawa giggles against him, nuzzling into his cheek, “If only my Iwa-chan was this sweet all the time.”

“You’d rot,” Iwaizumi replies.

Oikawa laughs, pulling back completely, eyes half hooded, “Will Iwa-chan keep spoiling me tonight?”

“Does Iwaizumi ever not spoil you?” Ushijima asks, standing before them.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa shuffle to the side, pressing close against each other to make room on the couch for Ushijima. Oikawa quickly grabs at the popcorn, holding it close to snack on it. Iwaizumi grabs the remote from the coffee table to press play. He leans back, throwing an arm behind Oikawa to hang on the back of the sofa. Ushijima mirrors him, fingers entangling, and Oikawa leans back into it. He smiles to himself as the movie begins, comfortable in his favorite spot, between his two favorite boys.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa become completely engrossed in the film despite having seen it numerous time. Ushijima falls asleep because he’s been forced to see it multiple times, ending up slumped half on Oikawa’s body.

“It’s a crime he’s this cute,” Oikawa laments, petting at the short coarse hair of his tallest partner, fingers itching to trace along his furrow browed.

Iwaizumi shushes him, “It’s the raptor part.”

When the movie finally finishes they wake Ushijima up, neither of them capable of picking up the behemoth. Iwaizumi leads the sleepy man down the hall to Oikawa’s bedroom while Oikawa tidies up the living room. He turns off the TV, throws away the popcorn bag and refolds the blanket. Once he’s deemed it acceptable enough that Iwaizumi won’t complain to him in the morning he makes his way to his bedroom.

Iwaizumi waits for him by the door, kissing him a touch apologetic, “Can we spoil you tomorrow night?” he asks, eyes flicking back to the sleeping log of a man in the middle of their bed.

Oikawa snickers into his hand, “I guess all good things come to those who wait.”

Iwaizumi nuzzles into him despite this, burrowing himself into the crook of Oikawa’s neck until the taller man hugs him close, holding him tight. Drowsiness always brought out the cute side of Iwaizumi, the side that itched to hold hands and cuddle close, that buried his face in their chests, that squeezed them as tight as he could, and didn’t mind being a few inches shorter, so he could slot himself under their chins perfectly. It’s the side Iwaizumi always denies having.

Oikawa loves him.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Oikawa whispers into Iwaizumi’s hair. It’s getting long, he thinks, he needs a haircut.

“We fight all the time,” Iwaizumi’s muffled voice replies back.

“You know what I mean,” Oikawa huffs.

Iwaizumi sighs, lifting his head up, “I know,” he looks back over at Ushijima’s sleeping form, curled on his side in the middle of the bed, “I’m tired, Tooru. We can talk tomorrow. Let’s just sleep for now.”

Oikawa doesn’t argue for once.

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

They don’t have a talk the next day, or the day after that, but friendly conversation blossom, intimate moments play in the night and life returns to normal. Or almost normal. Oikawa is still deluded with stressful calls from his family. His father still won’t respond to him. His sister still begs for his help. But Oikawa is getting better at keeping it to himself, locked away from earshot, so it does not fester into any more fights.

Iwaizumi seems to have dropped the fostering idea, much to Oikawa’s relief, but the boy still haunts the store front, and Oikawa has the misfortune of bumping into him on occasion.

Today is one such occasion.

He steps into the flower shop during his lunch break, stretching his arm up with a yawn. Iwaizumi bumps into him on his way out, “Why are you taking your lunch break so late?”

“Some of us have to work hard for their ungrateful house husbands,” Oikawa replies easily.

Iwaizumi flicks his shoulder, “Well, your ungrateful house husband left you a nice lunch upstairs so maybe you should rethink your perception on life.”

“Iwa-chan! Did you really?” Oikawa practically squeals with excitement, “Homemade bento? For me?”

Iwaizumi snorts, responding only with a dismissive wave as he heads out of the store entirely. Oikawa watches him go with a bright smile. Things were definitely getting better. He turns back toward the store. It’s a bit crowded, two customers swarming around Ushijima in one corner listing their specifications for a bouquet and a few more loitering about the aisles. Oikawa tries to wave towards his partner but gives up, the tall man too engrossed in his work to really see anything else. He’ll greet him on his way back down.

He makes his way towards the back of the store to head up the stairs to his apartment, but halfway there his eyes catch on the brat. Kageyama is reaching for a potted plant on one of the higher shelves. His lanky legs strain on his tiptoes, fingertips gripping at the sides of the vase as he eases it out inch by inch. His face is screwed up in concentration, but it looks like he’s struggling. Oikawa thinks of just continuing up the stairs, but his good heart takes hold of him, and with a dramatic sigh, he pads his way over to the child.

“Tobio-chan,” he sings, startling the boy to stop and look over, “What are you doing?”

Kageyama’s face reddens slightly, and he aims his words at the ground as he speaks, “Getting a plant for Ushijima-san.”

“Is that it?” Oikawa muses, letting a finger tap his chin theatrically,  “It looked like you were trying to stretch. It’s a bit too high for you isn’t it?”

“I can get it,” Kageyama mumbles to the floor.

“I don’t think you can,” Oikawa replies quickly, and with a flourishing hand motion he adds, “If you’ll allow me,  I can--“

“I can get it!” Kageyama glowers loudly, hands shooting up to reach for the plant.

“Tobio-chan, don’t be stupid, I can just-“

“I can get it!” Kageyama shouts, and he hops this time as he reaches for it, managing to knock it straight off the shelf. The heavy plant careens downward,  and Oikawa lunges his hand forward to grasp the back of Kageyama’s dark hoodie, wrenching him backwards and out of harms way.

The pot shatters at their feet, shards clattering around and dirt spraying all over the both of them. Kageyama lets out a surprised scream while Oikawa lets out an annoyed growl, his work clothes now filthy.

Ushijima rushes toward them, eyes wide with worried and mouth pressed into a thin line, “Are you alright?” he asks.

Oikawa levels him an annoyed look about to respond when a chocked up sob reverberates below him. He looks down at Kageyama’s trembling form, fingers pulling at his sleeves as he fight back the the tears threatening to spill, “I’m sorry,” he pleads, “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s alright,” Ushijima says easily, “I am not angry. Are you alright?”

Kageyama nods furiously, more apologies tumbling from his lips. His face is blotchy and wet, snot dripping from his nose and Oikawa is disgusted. But then Ushijima is looking at him, golden eyes piercing with a request, “Oikawa can you clean him up?”

“What?”

“I need to clean the aisle and sweep up the ceramic shards before anyone is harmed. You’re both covered in dirt. Could you take Kageyama up and take care of him?”

Oikawa can’t help the pained sneer that flits across his face, but Ushijima’s gaze makes him falter and he agrees reluctantly with a loud sigh. Kageyama has little opportunity to react as Oikawa grabs his arm and starts dragging him up the stairs.

Oikawa releases him momentarily to unlock their door, stepping into there entry way. He slips off his muddy shoes with a disgusted crinkle of his nose, tearing off his equally dirty socks and balling them up in his fist. Kageyama stands dumbly beside him, frozen.

“Well?” Oikawa snaps, patience worn completely thin, “Do you plan on tracking dirt all over my home or are you going to take your shoes off?”

Kageyama scrambles, falling down in his hurry to take his shoes off. He still manages to get dirt in the hallway from his flurry of movements. Oikawa grabs him before he ventures inside, “Socks off too! They’re filthy!”

Kageyama hesitates but then pulls them off, leaving them by his shoes. Oikawa makes a mental note to retrieve them before he washes their clothes. “Now listen up, Tobio-chan, because I am not going to repeat myself,” he says, steering the child toward the kitch so he can grab a papertowel. He starts wiping at the boys wet snotty face roughly, ignoring the kid’s squirming hands trying weakly to push him away, “Stop moving. You can take a quick shower in the bathroom and in the meantime I’m going to wash your shirt and pants, alright? So once you change pass me your clothes through the door, got it?”

Kageyama nods, fingers playing with the ends of his sleeves once he gives up his struggle. Oikawa sighs and leads the boy to their bathroom, “You can bathe yourself right?”

“I can!” Kageyama snaps, frowning at him severely. Oikawa snorts, but shows him how to turn the water on.

Oikawa waits outside the bathroom until Kageyama hands him his clothes through the crack of the door. Oikawa hands him back his underwear, there’s no dirt on the article of clothing and they definitely don’t have any the boy’s size he can borrow. Oikawa leaves his post to enter the laundry room, stripping out of his dirty pants (luckily the only thing tarnished in the incident) and starts up the machine. He pads over to his room to put on some old gym shorts in the interim. He looks terribly silly in his dress shirt and shorts, but no one who matters will be seeing him anyway.

Kageyama comes out of the bathroom clutching his borrowed towel, glaring at the ground. Oikawa lends him one of Iwaizumi’s shirts which ends up being more of a dress on him with an off the shoulder kind of look. He also offers him the smallest pair of shorts he can find.

And it is at this point that Oikawa is at a loss of what to do, trapped with the child until the washer and dryer dings. The boy stands there awkwardly, dark toes curling at the floor, fingers digging into the hem of his long shirt. Oikawa’s eyes linger a moment, something tickling the back of his head. Something not right.

His own stomach distracts him, reminding him of the hour and he turns away grumbling. His mood shifts though at the sight of the cute bento box on the kitchen counter. His heart leaps into his throat. It had been months since Iwaizumi had made him a lunch this cutesy, a staple he had gotten so used to in college.

It’s a nice memory, his freshman year of college, as they sit in the quad outside sharing a lunch. “You know Iwa-chan,” Oikawa had lamented, “it sucks that we’re dating now.”

Iwaizumi had punched him, “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Oikawa had snickered, massaging the spot on his shoulder, “I miss all the cute lunches my fangirls used to make me! My instagram popularity is gonna plummet now. And it’s all your fault.”

Iwaizumi had only rolled his eyes, “You’re an ass.”

But a week or so later Iwaizumi had presented him with an attempt at a cute bento, a bit messy, but the flips it made Oikawa’s heart do were incomparable. He remembers almost dropping the bento in his excitement to pull Iwaizumi toward him, peppering his face with grateful kisses and giggling squeals.

Iwaizumi tried to cover his pleased blush with his anger but nothing could fool Oikawa when it comes to Iwaizumi.

He smiles into the bento now, marveling at Iwaizumi’s skill. Inside the little box sits a fox made of brown and white rice, a cute little sleeping face painted on by seaweed pieces. Two halves of an egg sit beside it, decorated like a pair of little squawking birds. Oikawa quickly takes his phone out to take a picture, sending it to his group chat with his boyfriends, captioned “Iwa-chan DOES love me!”

He sends the same image to Yahaba as well, captioning it only with a smug little peace sign emoji. He adds the kissy face emoji too for good measure.

He startles when he looks up to find Kageyama has ventured up to him, trying on his tiptoes to see what Oikawa is marveling at. Oikawa isn’t proud of the fact he snatches the meal up close to his face, and starts shoveling it into his face. But it happens. And it’s purely instincts.

Kageyama stares up at him, wide eyed, as Oikawa scarfs down his lunch. Oikawa swallows, trying to act nonchalant, “What? Didn’t you already eat?”

“I did,” Kageyama mutters, and he glares at the floor, fidgeting again. Oikawa realizes, as he slows down on his feast that he needs to find something to occupy this kids time while the washer and dryer do their magic or else he’s going to be stuck entertaining him.

“Go watch TV,” Oikawa half orders, hand coming down to nudge the boy to the living room. Kageyama obeys, trudging to the couch and sitting down. He puts his feet up on the ottoman, shoulders shrugging inward as he sinks into the back of the couch.  Oikawa lets out a huff when the boy stares at him, coming over and bending toward the coffee table for the remote. He flips through the channels, stopping on something colorful and animated.

He puts the remote back down on the coffee table.

And then he stops.

And his eyes widen, arm shooting out. Kageyama realizes at the same time he does, reflexively pulling his legs back to tuck underneath himself. But Oikawa is faster, hand gripping tightly around Kageyama’s left ankle.

Kageyama kicks at him, “Let go!” he screeches, jerking around.

Oikawa keeps his grip, pulling up his other hand to shield himself from the desperate flailing, “Stop moving!” he shouts back, “Let me see!”

“No!” Kageyama screams, writhing on the coach and kicking wildly, furiously, “No!”

“I’m not going to hurt you!” Oikawa growls, tightening his grip on the boy’s ankle, “If you don’t stop moving I’ll have Ushiwaka ban you from the flower shop!”

Kageyama stills, eyes large and teary as he hiccups. Oikawa has no time for that, tugging the foot closer to his face. “Stop it,” Kageyama begs, voice wavering and pitiful. Oikawa feels nothing.

Nothing but hot blooded anger.

“Who did this?” he asks, and his fury bleeds into his tone, “Tobio, who did this?”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything, trying to twist his body away, curling it toward the back of the couch. But Oikawa is persistent, “Who did this?!”

“It’s cause I was bad,” Kageyama’s words are muffled by the cushion he presses his face in, face flush with humiliation, “Stop!” he pleads one last time, giving another jerk of his leg.

Oikawa releases the imprisoned foot, hand instead curling into himself. He grits his teeth, sitting down on the couch beside the curled up boy, boy. Eleven! was what Iwaizumi said if he remembers right. His stomach feels sick, curdling in on itself with disgust. But there’s no denying it, he’d seen the same scars in all sorts of cases at work. Never in person.

“Tobio,” Oikawa says, and he breathes the words out, forcing himself to regain some composure. He takes a second to even out his heaving, closing his eyes slowly and opening them again, “Who did that to you?”

“I’m ok,” Kageyama mutters instead, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Tobio,” Oikawa repeats, and repeats again and again, “Who did this to you?”

Kageyama curls up tighter, discolored feet toeing into the cracks of the cushions, as if trying to make them just disappear, and finally he says it, quiet and mostly directed the fabric of the sofa, “Mom.”

Oikawa nods, slowly, eyes staring at the TV shouting out colorful nonsense. He knows Kageyama’s an orphan, so his mother must have either passed away or he was taken away from her--for good reasons. He’s not sure which is the answer, and he doesn’t think asking Kageyama at this point is a good idea.

“Tobio,” Oikawa says again, and the boy refuses to budge, “Tobio, look at me. Tobio, sit up and look at me.”

Finally, Kageyama’s blue eyes shift toward him, guarded and squinted, blotchy red still painted along his cheeks. Oikawa looks at him sternly, “If anyone ever tries to hurt you like that again, you must tell me or Iwaizumi-san or Ushijima-san, do you understand me?”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything.

Oikawa grits his teeth behind his closed lips, “Tob--”

The washer dings, and Oikawa lets out an annoyed huff, giving Kageyama one last look before he gets up. He puts the washed clothing into the dryer, closing it with a rougher slam than necessary. He leans against the machine, trying to think, to formulate some sort of plan of attack. He musses through his hair.

He isn’t built for this.

He lets out a sigh through his nose and straightens up. He moves back toward the living room, a new conversation tactic ready at his lips. He freezes though, as the doorknob shifts, instinctively crossing the distance to stand between it and Kageyama still curled up on the couch.

Ushijima enters and Oikawa’s shoulders relax.

“Oikawa, thank you for taking care of him,” Ushijima hurries, slipping his shoes off quickly, “The mess downstairs has been cleaned and I have temporarily closed the store so I can be here with him instead.”

“Ushi-”

“You should return to work, your lunch break ended a while ago did it not? I do not want you to get in trouble because of me,” Ushijima continues in one more frazzled breath.

Oikawa looks at his watch cursing to himself, “Shit, fine, one, uh, one second,” he scurries into his bedroom, digging for another pair of professional pants that would match his shirt. He comes back out, Ushijima sitting on the ottoman, not talking, just there near Kageyama, who has kept his face smushed into the back of the couch. Oikawa bites his lip, a frustrated noise threatening to break through but he holds it in, “His clothes are in the dryer. We need to talk later. I’ll send a text, I have to go.”

Ushijima nods, “I will see you later.”

Oikawa gives a brisk nod as he rushes down the steps and out the door. He pulls his phone from his pocket as he goes, ignoring Iwaizumi’s grumbling texts as he opens up the app to their groupchat.

He types quickly,

Ushiwaka, don’t let the kid out of your sight.

Iwa-chan, I’m coming to the station right now.

He locks his phone and shoves it back in his pocket, checks both directions and hurries across the street.

What an absolute disaster of a day, he thinks to himself.

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

“What’s going on?” Iwaizumi asks as he lets Oikawa into one of the spare offices at the police station, worry knitting his brow, “Are you ok? Did something happen?”

Oikawa glares at him, “Iwa-chan, you always have to stick your nose into the worst of business, you know that?”

Iwaizumi stares at him blankly, “What?”

“You’re always making so much more work for me. Your good samaritan bones are the devil,” Oikawa continues, collapsing into the offered chair.

Iwaizumi stands across from him, squinting, “Are you messing with me right now?”

“He’s been abused, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighs, looking off to the side, body folder over to rest on the table, “I couldn’t get any pictures in the moment but we can get them if we need to.”

“What?” Iwaizumi repeats, but something catches in his throat as he speaks. .

“Immersion burns,” Oikawa continues, fingers fidgeting on the tabletop by drawing mindless patterns, “There might be other things. I don’t know. They’re not fresh at least. Where’s Tobio’s mom?”

“She’s dead.” Iwaizumi responds stiff.

“Good,” Oikawa spits, “At least there’s that.”

Iwaizumi sits down, staring at the table top, hands splayed out over the smooth white surface, “Are you, are you sure?”

Oikawa smiles grimly, lifting his head to look his partner in the eye, “It took me a second to realize he wasn’t wearing brown socks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Iwaizumi hisses, rubbing his temples, “Immersion burns? Really?”

“I know.”

“He’s,” Iwaizumi grapples with it, “He’s just a little kid.”

“I know.”

“His mother?” Iwaizumi repeats, and the words rhotacized by the end of it so it almost sounds like a growl.

Oikawa doesn’t want to think about it. “Iwa-chan, we need to know if the orphanage knows about this. And if they did if they filed everything they were supposed to,” Oikawa murmurs, carefully, “We need to be sure or we can't let him go back there.”

“Where is he right now?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Sitting on our couch with Ushiwaka,” Oikawa assures.

Iwaizumi nods, “Alright, I’ll go investigate as much as I can on my end.”

“I’ll check in with my contact at child protective services and fill out a report,” Oikawa sighs, tugging at his bangs. Iwaizumi shakes his head, not necessarily at what Oikawa is saying, but rather at the entire topic of conversation, hand pressing harder into his temple. It hurts Oikawa to see.

Oikawa bites his lip as he gets up, fingers straining in his fists, biting into the skin of his palm even though he’d bitten them down, “If it isn’t, if it isn’t safe for him to go back there, he can stay with us, but, this, this doesn’t mean that he can, he can--”

“I know,” Iwaizumi murmurs.

Oikawa grimaces, “I know it makes me an awful human being but I can’t--”

“No,” Iwaizumi interrupts again, hand reaching out toward him, “You’re not, you’re not an awful huma-.”

Oikawa pulls away from it, “I don’t, I, fuck, Hajime I’m not good withS kids I can’t just, I can’t--”

Iwaizumi is shaking his head, “I know, it’s ok, I get it.”

“I’m not a good person,” Oikawa confesses, pressing the heel of his palm into his eyes, his lashes fluttering to keep his emotions at bay, head tilted up toward the sky.

“You are. Don’t say that,” Iwaizumi insists, standing up after him.

Oikawa shakes his head, refusing to look at him. Instead, leaves the station all together without another word. Self-loathing coats his guts, twisting them into knots and he does his best to swallow down the bile. Swallow it down. Swallow it all down.

No one needs to see any of that.

[yummybubbletae]

Here you go, babe!

I hope this was okay! I really liked the request, but I’m not sure if I like how it came out of my head.... #writerproblems

Enjoy!

Kim Seokjin

He was hesitant to bring it up. He didn’t want to force anything on you and he knew you worked tomorrow, but he didn’t want you to have to walk home alone in the dark. “Do you want to stay the night?” He asked. You had just slipped your shoes on and seemed to be stalling, not wanting to walk out into the night air. You both stared at each other for a moment. Trying to read each other, though you both wanted the same thing. “If that’s okay with you.” Jin nodded, probably a bit to eagerly.

He threw a spare pillow and blanket onto the couch for himself, flipping the main light off. After struggling for a bit, trying to turn the water on, he now heard the bathroom door opening, signaling you were done. “Find everything okay?” He asked. He could hear your feet padding down the hall and turned towards you, smiling at the look of you in a pair of his sweats and a tshirt. “Thanks for letting me spend the night.” “Anytime. You can just sleep in my bed tonight. It’s all clean.” The way you stared at him made his heart thump in his chest. He felt almost giddy. You moved over to the couch and sat down flat out refusing to claim his bed for the night. He wasn’t going to argue with you anymore, but he wasn’t going to cave either. He slid down onto the couch with you and let you slouch into him, pulling your legs up under you. The room was quite, your breathing deep and soothing. He could smell his shampoo in your hair, the mix of his own smell, with the remaining sent of your own making him smile. he’d press his lips to the top of your head and whisper an, “I love you.”

Kim Namjoon

You had been waiting for him to get home from practice and it ended up being much later than the two of you had anticipated. You had school early the next morning and you knew, at this rate, you wouldn’t make it home and have enough time to shower. So you just decided to do it at Namjoon’s place. He wouldn’t mind and if you were going to stay here till he got back in needed to be done.

 You’d shower quick and figured you could just throw one of his shirts on when you were done. Problem was, you heard him calling your name while you toweled off. “Y/N?” He was in the adjoining room. You slid across the tiles, placing your hand on the doorknob before he could open in. “Sorry. It was getting late and I had to shower.” You peeked your head out the crack in the door, cheeks burning as you gripped the towel to your chest. He just stared at your dripping wet hair for a moment, his own cheeks turning a slight shade of pink before he moved to his dresser, getting out a shirt for you. He’d leave you in peace to get yourself dressed, but when you’d step out he’d pull you towards him, kissing your temple, taking in your fresh scent. “You smell nice.” He’d mumble, arms snaking around your waist. “Why don’t you just spend the night?”

Min Yoongi

You were falling asleep against his shoulder, making it harder for him to type at his laptop. A movie was playing quietly in the background, holding neither of your attentions. Small snoring sounds came from your nose, though you’d always insist you didn’t snore. Yoongi found his attention wasn’t on his work anymore. His eyes were locked on your sleepy form.

Something sounded through the speakers of the tv, he jumped and your head flew off his arm. You looked confused and disheveled, running your hand through your hair. Not fully awake. He didn’t speak, hoping you’d give in to your dropping eyes and fall asleep against his arm again. “Oh, I’ve got to get home.” You’d say, pushing yourself up. “No.” He’d reply, catching your swaying arm. “Stay here.” You’d stare at him for a moment, blinking away the sleep. “I can’t. I have an interview early tomorrow. I haven’t even showered.” He’d push his laptop off his lap and stand up, leading you towards the bathroom. You’d receive a towel from him and the water would be on before you had another chance to protest.

 For someone you hadn’t wanted to go in the first place, you were sure taking a long time in the bathroom. He contemplated checking on you but then the doorknob turned and you stepped out. “Okay. Now home.” You’d say, waving your arms towards the door. He’d shake his head and pat the bed next to him. You hardly protested and crawled in next to him. You’d rest your head on his chest and he’d wrap his arms over your shoulder. “I smell better now.” You’d whisper. That’s when he’d notice it and he’d smile, liking the sent of him on you.

Jung Hoseok

It started off as him showing you a new dance he was learning. He was quite proud of it and insisted that you learn with him. Him actually teaching you only lasted a couple of minutes. You two were soon swinging each other around his living room, table and chair pushed out of the way. You dropped to the floor, panting and sweating, laughing as he stumbled back onto the couch. 

“You’re a pro.” He’d say, trying to catch his breath. You’d both sit in silence for a bit, the only sound being your heavy breathing as you cooled down. “Oh gosh. It’s late. I need to get home.” You’d say, pushing yourself up from the floor. You two were having so much fun, neither of you noticed as the clock crept past one. Hoseok glanced at his phone, eyes bugging out as he noticed the time. He seemed to contemplate something for a moment before pushing himself up. “Just spend the night.” He’d say with a shrug. “I have to get home. I smell.” He’d laugh and nudge you to his bathroom. “Go shower. It’s late and I don’t want you walking home tonight.” You’d give in and he’d supply you with some clean clothing.

Hoseok would be lying in bed, eyes closing on him, the sound of the shower lulling him to sleep. He never heard you come out. He felt the bed dip next to him and he turned, wrapping himself in your warmth. It wasn’t your usual smell that enveloped him. But as he settled against your chest, pressing a kiss to your collar bone, he found himself enjoying your scent mixed with his own. “I love you so much.” He’d murmur before falling asleep.

Park Jimin

You two had just finished working out. Well, he just finished working out. He had gotten you to hop onto the treadmill at the very end, but it didn’t last very long. You had both returned to his place, both a little hungry and both very sweaty. It was late already, you two had gotten a late start and by the time you had dragged yourself back, the sun had set and Jimin, your ride, seemed a bit tired as he made some food in the kitchen.

“I should just call a taxi. You look exhausted.” He’d turn to you, lip jutting out into a pout. “I don’t want you to go.” He’d reply, moving over to wrap his arms around you. You’d try to pull away, whining about being smelly but he’d just laugh at you. “How about,” He’d start, glancing down, feeling a bit shy to bring the topic up. “You spend the night here? We can watch a movie and then I can bring you home in the morning?” You’d agree but insist on a shower, leaving him to start a movie up while you cleaned up.

You moved out into the living room, feeling refreshed but tired as the day came to an end. You’d settle on the couch by him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He’d run his fingers through your hair, noticing the smell of his body wash on you as he bent over to kiss your cheek. “Ah, Jagiya. You smell amazing.” He’d say, enjoying his scent on you for the rest of the night.

Kim Taehyung

You were in your car, in Taehyung’s driveway. He was standing in the doorway, arm raised, waving goodbye. The rain was pelting down at the car, making it hard for you to see him. You stuck your keys into the ignition and turned, waiting to hear the car purr to life, but it didn’t happen. It made this horrible whirling sound and stopped. You tried again, but the same thing happened.  With a sigh, you pulled your keys back out and opened your door. “What’s wrong?” Tae called from the house. You shrugged and popped the hood, shivering as the cold rain seeped down your shirt. You weren’t quite sure if the problem would be coming from there, but checking was your best bet. “Y/N! Come inside.” He yelled and you slammed the hood down, grabbing your bag before locking the car back up. You stood dripping in his hallway as he threw a towel over you. “I guess its a sign. Lets get you in the shower and we’ll figure it out in the morning.”

You collapsed on the couch next to him, ready to complain about your stupid, piece of junk car, when he’d press his nose to your neck. “Ahh, you smell so good, Jagi.” He’d say, causing you to chuckle. “I smell like you.” He’d pull away a bit. “But it smell so much better on you.” Up until you both fell asleep, he’d be sniffing you constantly.

Jeon Jungkook

It was late. You two had been playing games in his room. You were proud of yourself for actually beating him a couple of times, but as it got later, and the day started to catch up to you, you found yourself leaning against Jungkook. Remote clutched feebly in your hands as he beat you again. “I give up.” You murmur, rubbing your face into his sweatshirt. “You have me at an unfair advantage.” He’d chuckle, leaving the game at the character selection screen as he stretched. “What time is it?” He’d ask, answering his own question as he checked his phone. “Late.” You’d reply. He sat in silence for a while, seeming to contemplate something. He’d wrap his arms around you and fall back onto the bed. “How about you just stay here tonight?”  He’d ask, trying to seem chill about it, but you could here the strain in his voice. “I’m okay going home, I don’t want to impose.” His voice wasn’t quite as shaky this time. “No. Stay.”

He had showered first, offering you one as an afterthought. He paced around the room, overthinking every little thing he could as he waited for you. All his thoughts went down the drain as you stumbled out of the bathroom, giving him a smile before moving over towards the bed. “Goodnight.” You’d say as you pulled the covers up. He’d just stare at you, causing you to blush a bit. He noticed the smell of his shampoo on you and was embarrassed to admit just how much he liked it on you. “Is this too weird?” You’d asked and he’d just shake his head, finally crawling into bed with you, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

I may have gotten a little carried away with this. I’m sorry it took so long to get up, I’ve been very busy lately. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!

[galacticbugman]

My Coastal Trip Part 2.

The next day we only spent the morning at Padre Island National Seashore my goodness it was amazing. One of the first creatures we met was this Gray Sea-star. You might think that old “stubby” (here what we named him for he was missing part of the top arm) was dead. I had a shovel with me in the back pocket of my pants and I scooped him up being careful not to touch him just in case I had something that might make him sick if he was alive; and sure enough by the time I got him on to my shovel he began to squirm around. I was able to take him back where he belonged and put him back in the water. My guess was that there was a feeding group the night before and he got stranded. That was my first oceanic animal rescue. I have saved baby turtles at Lake Arlington in Arlington Texas a couple of time but to be honest I don’t make that many animal rescues. I do a couple but not as many as you can think. Some time it is best to leave nature be. However I knew that more beach goers would possibly find this guy and I didn’t want him hurt anymore than he had been. It was just a judgement call I had to make on my own. I could have left him out there but I didn’t and put him back where he needed to be to feed another day. 

As we walked along the beach I spotted out in the distance; some Sanderlings that were out on the beach feeding in groups of around six or seven individuals. there were a bunch out there and they were all in tight bunches. I watched them as they were feeding this one deiced to feed all on his own and was moving as fast as his little legs could carry him to the next best feeding area. These guys are just a touch bigger than the Least Sandpipers that we get all the time at Lake Arlington during the winter months. That is still pretty darn tiny. These guys are totally dwarfed by humans. If you are right on them they look even smaller compared to you. They are just so cute as they scurry about the sand looking for tasty morsels in the sand. They mainly feed on Periwinkles, bugs, and some other forms of mollusk. 

  Some Royal Terns were out on the beach resting but one decided it would be best to take to the sky. Some of the in-flight shots were hard to get back when I had that Nikon Coolpix L830. I still have it and it still works but with the Canon EOS Rebel T6 it is much easier to get some of the better in-flight shots now that I have a camera with a viewfinder or what I like to call the Eye-piece. I can now lead a bird and get some of the shots that I have never been able to with just the screen. The screen was hard to use; I often lost the bird and it would hardly get into focus but with a much faster camera it gets those hard to get in-flight shots perfectly. I have only had it a couple of months now so I am still getting used to it. I had my other camera since 2015 and it took me a while to master that one. So there is a lot of stuff that I am still learning to do with this camera. Just after these shots were taken early in January at River Legacy I went and took their free camera course on how to use DSLR cameras. I really like the idea that River Legacy has that kind of class for people that have advanced cameras or who are thinking about getting an advanced camera. Some of the best things are free and that class was amazing. 

I know I am going on another off track topic but still it helps to talk about other things too. So on the beach there were a few things out and about but not much. Soon the time was up on us to head back so we went to the car and went off to a souvenir shop. We love to go to shops down there and help out local businesses. 

I bought this cool fridge magnet that is in the shape of a Great White Shark Tooth. I am just gaga over sharks. Ever since I saw the movie Jaws for the first time back in High School I have been totally into sharks and want to learn all I can about them. I have become quite the fan of the annual Discovery Channel Shark Week that happens every summer. I just bought a new Shark bedding set that is cool. My aunt bought me a shark bank not too long ago to spruce up my new room, I also have shark figures and toys on top of my dresser. So you can say I am a shark junkie. I also have a shark tooth necklace took. I also have a few shark shirts as well. I have the one Jaws shirt and then I have two gray button downs with hammerheads on them. My grandmother used to say to me that I dress like an old man. I do wear a lot of button downs with print on them I just like the beach style. The button down open, a tee shirt under that, the shark tooth necklace, bucket hat, and sneakers and on occasional flip flops. Normally on my adventures I wear jeans and hiking boots but sometimes it is okay just to think of waves and the island style. Still I think sharks are amazing creatures. I have always liked sticking up for the misunderstood creatures because they get such a bad reputation for being labeled as evil mindless monsters. I think that shark deserve respect and don’t deserve to be feared. People need to understand that when you go into the water you are on their territory. Human ego say this land is my land and I can go into it and everything goes my way; but in the real scheme of things humans need to learn that the water or that forest is their land and I am in their world and need to be aware that there are things that might be potentially dangerous so I need to be alert and be aware of my surroundings. Wish that is the way it is but some people just don’t understand.   ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Anyway on the way back home we decided to stop off at innerspace Caverns to see if they had another tour but their last tour had just ended. My brother is not totally into what I am into. He is into more complex things like extinct ice age animals which I do admire a lot; he is also into video games. So there is still much work to be done with him. he doesn’t really like fossil collecting, birding, or photography like I do. No he is only into certain things. He also spends a lot of his time watching espionage films and he does like Star Wars but he is not totally into what I am in which is fine so we try our hardest to find things on trips that would appeal to him. So we decided to go back down the next day to George Town Texas and go on a tour through the cave. We also made plans to go to a place I have always wanted to go called Waco Mammoth National Monument. So we went on home but the next day we were ready for more adventure.  

A shot of me about to embark on the cave tour. My goodness was this cave cool! there was a lot of neat things to see. I have not been in a cave in a long time. The last time I went to a cave was at the Cave Without a Name in Boerne Texas and that was a really long time ago. I have only been too a limited amount of caves but I am really looking forward to going to more when we have the time and the means of getting to them. The things you can see in a cave are just phenomenal. I may not be much of a geology nerd but I do find fossils, minerals, and rocks to be very cool. My family have always been Rock-hounds. We collect all kinds of rocks and things to make edging for flowerbeds, rock gardens and who knows what else. I am still trying to get a display case for all of my fossils in my collection. Right now most of my rocks and fossils are in collectors Whitman’s Chocolate Tins with some drawer liner. Hey I go for the cheap end of the deal when it comes to things. I make do with what I have and make it work. Sometimes I wish I had a tool cabinet to put them in but I have a long way to go before I can get one of those. I have to make priorities. So yeah more of my rock nerd is coming out with that last bit. I am always wanting new equipment and stuff for my nerd hobbies. Being a naturalist can be very inexpensive but when your in a little deeper you start dreaming of some bigger major league toys. 

In this cave there are many interesting an beautiful rock formations to observe and to gawk at. Here are a few of my personal favorites that I was able to get good shots of. The light was very dim and it was hard to get everything in the gloomy lighting situation in that cave which was okay I still got what I wanted for the most part. 

 Here is one that our tour guide called the Cave Shark at a place called the imagination station. It was pretty neat how the rocks all looked like a sea theme. This Cave Shark looked as if it was coming straight out of the wall. It looks just like a shark which made me very happy as you can tell from the earlier part about the magnet. This was my personal favorite from this part of the tour. 

What is a cave shark without a Cave Squid? This Stalactite looks just like a Squid wouldn’t you agree? I think it does and so did our tour guide. Some of these caving guides get really creative when engaging with people about the caves while having fun along the way. Some of the people I know are not into nature one bit but my goodness they don’t know what they are missing. They totally miss out on all the cool things they could be seeing that they don’t often get to see. Traveling under ground is fun you find all kinds of funny things under there in the caves. One thing about it there is a funky smell that goes with it and the humidity too! You think caves are cool try this cave on for size you will be one sweaty hiker by the time they are done with you. I am not complaining but there is a strange aroma that comes from all the minerals and water and bat guano that really is one funky smell but we’re naturalists and we don’t mind it one bit. 

This little scene which is just off of one of the paths to the right that is really cool. It reminds me of two things the desert southwest from the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote cartoons or a scene straight out of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom like where they are first entering the Thuggee temple just after escaping the spike room which was connected to my personal favorite Indy phobia scene which was of course the bug tunnel. That scene was crazy; I find it funny how nature always bring back flashbacks of Star Trek, Star Wars, Men In Black, Jurassic Park, Pokemon, Battlestar Galactica and many other different show and movies. I am sorry I can’t go a day without making some crazy reference to something. I guess when you are a nerd it is what you do. I don’t just think of science fiction and nature for nothing. Their is a reason why I call myself Galactic Bugman on some things and then Galactic_Naturalist on others for nothing. Those my are my prominent two obsessions nature and science fiction and cartoons. So there a big reason why I make that my screen name for many things. It is just who I am and that is my story and I am sticking to it. 

Checkout this beautiful room right here! Ah the glorious Lake of the Moon. Okay that sounds a lot like a Pokemon Sun and Moon reference to me. The place where you get Lunala. I know again with the crazy references. Anyway this room really had me at first sight. It is amazing and so beautiful. The water is so clear and the formations are just so wonderful to see. If you go you have to take the easy tour in order to see this thing of beauty. This was the highlight of that tour. The shark totally got blown out of the water with this one (Hint: that was a Jaws Reference) the shark was pretty Jawsome! (Okay everyone hates puns I get it) but this was even more astounding. This was a really nice room of the cave. I am so glad I got to see this natural wonder and get it all on camera. Just look at some of those reflections that is how clear the water was! My golly it was amazing. 

Another shot of just the water at the Lake of the Moon before we all turned around and headed back to the mouth of the cave. It this trek was pretty fantastic. I will have to make another trip out there and do one of the more advanced hikes which would require more squeezing into tight spaces and other things but heck I have always wanted to do some spelunking just too see what I could find and gain some more new memories and put some more experience points under my belt. 

We eventually made it back to the gift shop and I bought two things at this stop and boy where they neat. 

I got this neat patch for my vest that I was wearing that day in fact. 

And my new favorite fossil to my collection which is the partial tooth fragment of a Megalodon.  These things can go for so much more other places but this fragment only cost me twenty bucks which was not a bad price for one of these suckers. It is a pretty good sized piece of a tooth. It is also in really good condition even if it is just half of a fossilized tooth. I am not complaining I saw this and I was like yep that would make a good conversation piece to have in my collection. So again with the shark stuff. I am just bonkers about such things but heck that is what makes me, me. You can either take it or leave it. 

So the next thing on our Whirlwind tour around Texas we went to the Waco Mammoth National Monument. This was a great place to go for my brother. Both the cave and the Waco Mammoth site were good places for my brother for he really liked them a lot. As for me I was totally in science la la land. It had felt like I had stepped into the TARDIS and went back in time to a time when everything was different than today’s world. 

When you go inside the building that protects the site you don’t quite know what you are going to expect when you walk in. This was the first thing I saw just before I saw the massive bone pile that was in this building. This mural shows what may have transpired on this site thousands of years ago. The story this site tells is of a flood that came through the land trapping a nursery heard of Columbian Mammoths, and a few other creatures like a Prehistoric Camel (Yes we did get a species of extinct camel in Texas at one point. It sounds a little far fetched but heck there was even Giant Ground Sloths at one point) and a few Saber Cat. Notice how some paleontologist say Saber Cat that is because calling them Saber Toothed Tiger is wrong because they are not anywhere nearly related to the Tigers of today. Not trying to be critical I am just saying you will hear this a lot from people like them. 

Okay so the bones shown here are from the only male found on the site. His official name is Mammoth Q or as a term of endearment they call this big fellow Quincy. This guy has quite the story to tell. Look how big and massive his tusks are. They are amazing to look at but you notice that his skull has been totally smashed and crushed in the bottom picture. This is really dramatic and this must have been one heck of a bad way to go down. They say that he must have gotten stuck in the raising waters and fell and in the panic of all the other animals trying to get to safety that his head got trampled on and crushed. You can kind of make out somewhat of a footprint shape. Notice that I circled something rather interesting in the rib cage of this animal. There is a knot in his bone. They said that he might of got that while fighting and may have been a cause of illness for it not healing right and that weakened him but we don’t really know for sure. That is all paleontology is the science of prehistoric forensics and speculation! Still a very neat set of fossils if I do say so myself. This guy was quite massive. 

   Here is a mural to give a rough estimate of what Quincy could have looked like. It is not to full scale the mural should be a few inches taller but the lights got in the artist’s way. Notice that he hair on his body looks much like the hair of an American Bison. It could have very much been the same for of the moderate temps of that time period to keep him warm at night but to not be too hot in the summer time. Remember these are not Woolly Mammoths so they didn’t need a lot of hair on their bodies since we did have a lot of moderate temps. And just look at that size. I am so glad this is just a painting and not the real McCoy or I could run the risk of getting flattened like a pancake standing this close to this guy. I knew elephants are big but my gosh they make me look tiny. Still a pretty good size comparison if you ask me. I like that the artist had some sense of humor and gave him a Three Stooges Moe hairdo or just a Chili bowl hair cut. It think that is kind of funny even though he probably didn’t look a think like one of the Three Stooges but heck I think that artists need to have a little fun while doing their job. I love added flair to artist representation. 

 Here is another Mammoth that they have on site. This one is called Mammoth W or Wanda. She is one of the oldest females that was part of this heard. One of her tusks was removed to keep it from getting damaged further. Some of these bones are very fragile and had to be treated with kid-gloves. Still another fascinating animal to look at as the guide showed her to us. When I am dealing with a fossil site if it is one I am allowed to dig on or like this it doesn't really matter which; I always try to imagine myself at the exact same time period as these creatures were. My representations may not be as accurate as how they sound in my mind but I always try to picture how life must have been for the creatures by visualizing the animals of today and then thinking back further to these guys and try to visualize them doing what they did to survive like how they may have hunted or how they did other things. As  Captain Jean Luc Picard said on Star Trek First Contact “Sometimes touch came make something more real.” I believe that a lot. Now I was not able to touch these fossils but I went out to Mineral wells Fossil park a few years back and was able to touch the fossils and feel of them and that gave me more a visual aid and a better understanding. Sometimes it is hard but study the landscape and the topography and listen even you can hear faint echos of the past like a distant cry from earth’s past. You can almost feel what they must have been going through. When I first walked into this place I was blown away. It was almost like the reaction Ellie Sattler, and Alan Grant gave when they saw their first live Brachiasaurus. It was almost like that except they were just the skeletons of what was once living. It took me back to a place that I could only dream of touching. I is very moving to be in a place like this and to feel how life was then. Sometimes if you let your imagination work with you when experiencing places like this you will get a better understand of how life was back when things were a little bit different. 

   This was the only known Camel on site that they found. Poor Flood which is what they named her was all broken up and scattered. Her bones were not intact and were just in a pile. Her skull had to be moved back with the rest of her. It may seem kind of funny (not ha ha funny) but just kind of odd that they would do that. This site is still being excavated for more fossils and they have a lot more to do once they get a paleontologist on board. So who knows what they will uncover next. This concludes my winter vacation posts. I hope you enjoyed my photos I took and I hope you had fun reading about my experiences and I hope that you will start you own nature adventure and explore the world of nature like I am currently doing. It is amazing to see new things and travel to wonderful places. I think that nature is very important and I will continue to write more about my life’s experiences on this blog site to help inspire and give you a little window of my life and how crazy cool it can be. I may not be an expert but I don’t have a problem writing myself field notes and sharing them with you. I hope you will continue reading my blogs and following my material. I am opening this Blog up to not just insects but to birds, mammals, reptiles, amphibians, fossils, and everything that is nature. Until then take care of yourself and I will see you on the trail. 

[httpwwwdotbombdotcom]

CP Stories

(This tale outlines one afternoon/evening of the summer I spent working at Cedar Point Amusement Park in Sandusky, Ohio. I got off work, walked to my dorm, and started writing everything down as it happened.)

*open notebook*

SO here I am on the very hot shuttle bus, packed to the gills. The shuttle bus is, in its purest form, a school bus painted a horrible blue-green and slapped with a Cedar Point logo. There are two of these monstrosities; one that runs from the men’s dorms to the Commons dorms, and one that runs from the Commons to town, where you can go to the mall, Wal-Mart, etc.) So every time I need something or if I’m bored on my day off, I have to first walk through the park, through the marina gate to the men’s dorms, sit and wait for the green monster, die in the sweltering heat, ride for 25 minutes to the Commons, wait for green monster #2, die again in the bus heat, ride another 15 minutes into town, then disembark. All this for a tube of toothpaste?

Suddenly the death trap lurches forward and we’re off. Having my legs folded and propped up on the seat on front of me has made my legs sweat a lot. It is however my my go-to comfiest school bus position. I patented it back in ‘98 during my first season of school bus riding. A close second favorite position was sitting on the floor backwards, playing with my Beanie Babies on the seat.

Soon enough we pull into the Commons parking lot. I thank the purple-uniformed Jamaican boy who lets me off in front of him. I also thank the bald, wrinkly, slow-talking bus driver whose name I’ve decided is Harry. I like old guys. Well most of them.

I step onto GM#2 and take my seat, third from the back on the right, and assume The Position. It makes my legs sweat but there really is no better position. There are two Mexican girls across from me, one of whom has obviously discovered the Hollister store at the Sandusky Mall. She has on Hollister sunglasses, shirt, denim shorts, belt, and flip flops. Hollister Overload, muchacha. I have only set foot in that store once, back home. If I hadn’t been sent running, choked by the overwhelming bro-cologne bomb I might have stayed long enough to see more than the one rack of $20 paper-thin tank tops that looked like they’d crumble if I looked at them wrong. It’s not that I don’t like their clothes, some of them are cute, it’s just that I can’t stomach paying that much for something that will a) wear out very quickly and b) put out the message that I want people to think I’m cool for wearing this brand. That’s all you’re paying for is the damn logo. Get me a plain white tee and I’ll paint a frickin bird on it and sell it for $20. My other thing is.. If I do wear a name brand, I don’t wear everything from the store all at once so you don’t Overload.

Bus driver #2 has obviously decided to take us on the scenic route. It’s been 20 minutes and the mall is nowhere in sight. Not that I have anywhere to be, I don’t have a date with toothpaste or anything.

*later, back from Wal-Mart*

I take the first bite of my cheddar, honey mustard, and cocktail sauce sandwich. It’s less-than-delicious, but will do the job it’s intended of, which is of course to quash my insane hunger. These days I find myself eating a lot of “makeshift dinners”, partly because let’s face it I’m broke, but also because I get a small sense of excitement from inventing a new food, no matter how sad the food is. I decide next to quash my boredom and go outside. Suddenly remembering yesterday’s episode with the dollar-bill-rejecting vending machine, I tap into my “savings”, a very small piggy bank I fill with loose change. (It’s not actually a pig it’s a plastic cylinder with a slot at the top and a dollar bill decal wrapped around the outside. I stole it from my older sister who had won it in one of those middle school fundraiser contest things.) Success, I find four quarters. So I gather up my makeshift dinner, the quarters, my phone, and this notebook, and head down the sketchy metal staircase to the “lounge”. I put this in quotes because our “lounge” is really 3 picnic tables under a rickety pavilion that is probably older than both my parents combined, flanked by a water fountain and two poorly-working microwaves. Luxurious right?

While carefully walking down the aforementioned stairs, my dinner already devoured, I come across a foreign couple just casually chatting on the bottom step. As I approach them, I can tell they come from somewhere in Eastern Europe. Let’s say Czechoslovakia since it’s fun to say! (Is that even a country anymore?) Their chatter continues and they simultaneously turn their heads to look up at me. The girl gives me the ol’ elevator eyes, seemingly glancing a bit too long at the length of my pink shorts. The guy’s eyes pan down, obviously noting my bare feet. He meets and returns the girl’s look of mild disgust. I cheerfully greet them and breeze past, careful not to tread on the oil stain on the concrete that always reminded me of a pair of lungs. Once they are almost out of earshot, I let out a chuckle. People, it’s 95 degrees out and after this summer I’m 99% sure I’ll never see any of you again, not that I’d care anyway.

Suddenly noticing all three picnic tables are occupied by Skype-ing foreigners, I opt to set up shop in the grass under one of the two trees. I sit with my back against the trunk, notebook in my lap and toss my phone into the grass under my knees. 

It’s the summer before I start college and I have recently been inspired by the completion of my recommended reading. It’s the first book I’ve read of my own (suggested) will since I don’t know when. (It was recommended not required, give me at least half credit here!) I used to read A LOT as a kid but the older I get I’m finding it more and more difficult to sit and focus on one thing for too long. Oh! Here comes the mutually disgusted Czech couple! See there I go, I get distracted that quickly.

Anyway, I was talking about inspiration. I tend to become inspired by many things over the course of a day, if I allow myself to be open to inspiration. Sometimes I ignore it, sometimes I try to channel it into writing something worthwhile, sometimes I honestly don’t know what to do with it and I spend so much time trying to decide what to do that by the time I make a decision, I’ve lost the inspiration. RIght now it seems to be working for me.

Before I go any further, let me introduce myself. Hi I’m Katie. I’m 16 weeks shy of 19, 2 weeks shy of starting college, and 10 days shy of quitting my job here at Cedar Point. I don’t actually work in the park, I work at a restaurant on the beach as a food runner. Nope, not a server, just a runner. I spend between 4 and 8 hours per shift, 4 or 5 days a week running hot, heavy plates of gross food to ungrateful customers. And also performing other various tasks for other employees. If we were an honest society, my job title would be “Everyone Else’s Bitch”. But I don’t like to complain, It’s alright I guess. I mean I have no frame of reference as this is my first job, but the daily tips I get are great, and sometimes the customers are friendly? And if not, I steal fries from their plates before I bring ‘em out. Once I even took a quick dip into a guy’s BBQ sauce too. Sometimes if they are blatantly rude it gives me material for humorous Facebook posts later on. I’ll spend my shift thinking of how to word it then post when I get back to my dorm. With all the weird shit I observe on the daily, I’ve managed to become pretty damn good at turning the unfortunate into something laughable, even if just to myself. Although judging by the number of likes I get on some of my posts by the next morning I can assume they’re laughable to others too.

Suddenly my phone chimes with the reception of a new text. It’s from Chad, a decidedly very lonely blond kid from high school. “Hey ;)” I quickly reply, “Don’t bug me now.” Truth is, I’ve been struck by inspiration and I don’t want to lose it this time. That quickly goes out the window when a different pair of assumingly Eastern European girls sit down at the picnic table nearest me and begin to chat loudly in their language over a delicious-looking triple chocolate muffin and hot tea. Feeling defeated, I retrieve my phone and try to connect to the terrible wifi. Meanwhile I get another text  from Chad. “Why?” I reply, “Inspiration struck and I’m rolling with it.” knowing him and his probably lack of understanding of the creative mind, he’ll probably reply with something along the lines of “Wtf?”. We’ll have to wait & see.

While waiting, I grab up my quarters and slink over to the vending machine to get a Brisk. I remembered that, based on my extensive personal research, it’s the perfect complement to pretzel sticks, and it just so happens I have a bag of the things up in my dorm. I leave my things in the grass, and head back up, over the lung-oil stain and up the metal stairs to the sweltering hallway to room 172. The room is about ¼ the size of my bedroom at home, with dirty cracked wooden floors of extremely pale blue and an equally dirty window. It came equipped with steel bunk beds with a blue plastic-covered mattress, two mismatched 4-drawer dressers, and a yellow side table with a squeaky drawer, a lamp, and an armless, high-back wooden chair. I feel the need to note that the little lamp is about 3x brighter than the actual light on the ceiling. With my addition of mini-fridge and pink bedding it seems a bit more livable. I grab my pretzels and head back out to my tree. When I get there, I find that the muffin-sharers are still there only now across from them sits another pair of girls who are staring intently at a laptop screen, the bright light illuminating their confused faces in the darkening dusk. The muffin gals say words in their language that have a tone similar to a goodbye salutation. My guess was correct as they soon gather up their tea mugs and and rise from the table. After a bit more chatter they lean in and kiss on the lips. Interesting. 

Dusk has become night, the sunlight is now completely gone. I decide to use the light of my phone to write a bit more before heading up to sleep on my oh-so-cozy PlastiMattress™. OH! I remember to check on my Chad-versation. His reply: “Umm okay…” Ha. Toldja.

Trying to gather my next thoughts, I end up zoning out on the pop machine behind the confused laptop couple. The guy must think I’m staring at him because he looked up at me, equally as confused at me as with the laptop. Oops. I’m supposed to be invisibly people-watching. I’ve been had.

*a bit later* 

It’s still the same night, only now I’ve put on sweatpants and moved my writing sesh inside decay pavilion. My phone died while I was surfing the world wide web. The area is now inhabited by 12 other people, now 14, and approximately 6 billion little sweat flies. They seem to really like my feet. I gotta get out of here, time for bed.