#oh shoot I just remembered I meant to do a gloss top coat oh well I'll get to that later have a matte frogge

[curiosityschild]

Amphibiuary Days 11 + 15: Painted and 3D

A holdable friend

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.3

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Three: When I’m Over You: Spencer’s desperate attempt to move on from you doesn't quite go as planned. A/N: chapter titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, this series is a real slow burn babyyy

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A/N: omg thank you for the kind kind feedback to the last chapter! i’d love to reply to you all under each chapter but unfortunately this is not my main account.. but i am so glad you like the series so far, it genuinely it means a lot to me!! 

-

A large window exposed the handsome brunette gentleman not only the restaurant goers, but also the world outside. Any average passerby could detect that he was nervous. Leg shaking underneath the table. Fingers tapping the surface. Quick glances between the watch on his wrist, and the entrance of the restaurant. 

Table for two yet he currently sat alone, most likely waiting for someone. A date. 

Yes, Spencer decided it was time to put himself out there once again. To really try and get over you. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ask his friends for advise on how to go about moving on because they would instantly figure out it had something to do with you. So instead he was forced to turn to a source he usually tried to stray from - the internet.

After hours of browsing Spencer decided majority of the tips were, for lack of a better word, shitty and didn't really apply to his situation. Don't torture yourself. Purge your pictures. No contact rule. Allow some fantasising. Visualise your future. 

He was about to give up when one word caught his eye. Rebound. Although the concept seemed cruel at first, it was quite frankly the only viable option. Plus from conversations he overheard at work between his colleagues there was nothing wrong with a little causal dating.

Fast forward a couple of days and here he was, patiently waiting for his date to arrive. 

Spencer was feeling anxious. He hadn't been out to dinner with a stranger like this in some time. He also couldn't help but wonder whether this would actually work.  

Back when you and Ethan first got together, the brunette doctor did go out a few times. Dinners, drinks, coffee meet-ups, museum outings etc., nothing worked as effectively as he had hoped it would. Honestly, it didn't work at all.

Although, to be fair, Spencer didn't try as hard as he could have. He deliberately picked people he knew he wouldn't hit it off with. Self-sabotage. Majority of the dates he went on were cut short by him, and the ones that made it to the end... Well, there was rarely a second and never a third.

The brunette agent looked in the direction of the door once again. For a brief moment he considered walking out, texting his date to cancel - ‘Something came up. Can we reschedule?’. No harm, no foul. 

He should have done that. He should have, but he didn't. Instead the person he was supposed to meet did. And as his phone buzzed on the table, an apology message illuminating the screen, Spencer’s eyes found themselves focusing instead on the last person he wanted to see right now. 

You.

The air caught in his throat. His instincts told him to duck his head down yet he found himself unable to move. Eyes fixated on you. Wondering why you were here. Wondering whether you were alone. Wondering whether perhaps he should try and get your attention. 

You noticed him just as you were about to leave. A kindhearted smile spread on your face the second your gaze landed on him, and Spencer waved awkwardly from his seat. Without hesitation, you made your way toward him. 

“Fancy seeing you here doctor.” You said warmly. 

Spencer cleared his throat. “You too.” He responded, nervously smiling back at you. “What are you doing here Y/N?”

You directed his focus to a rather large paper gift bag you were holding. “Just collecting some things that were left behind after our engagement party.” 

The brunette agent facepalmed himself mentally. Of course. How could he be so stupid to overlook that this was the same restaurant as your party. 

“How about you? Are you waiting on someone?” You asked, glancing briefly at the empty seat across from him. Spencer nodded slowly. “I was yes, but they just cancelled.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” An apologetic look graced your features but the brunette doctor shook his head. “Don’t be.”

You glanced at the seat once again before lifting your hand over your shoulder and pointing back to the exit. “Well, I should go. I have a bottle of wine at home with my name on it but I will see you bright and early on Monday doctor.” 

Shooting him one last warm smile, you turned around and were about to walk away when he grabbed your attention one more time. 

“Would you like to join me?” Spencer asked causing you to spin back on your heel to look at him again. “I’ve been sitting here for the last twenty minutes, holding up the table, so I kind of feel bad leaving without ordering anything.” He explained. 

“Only if you promise we split the bill evenly in half.” You grinned as Spencer chuckled. “Fine, I promise.” He responded. Satisfied with his answer, you placed the paper bag next to table before taking off your jacket. The brunette doctor sprung to his feet and took the garment from you. He walked up to the nearest coat hanger as you made yourself comfortable in the empty seat.

“Where is Ethan tonight?” Spencer asked sitting back down. He signalled the waiter to bring over the menus. “I don't want to be keeping you if he’s waiting at home.” He said, even though it was a lie. 

“Ethan is working.” You replied, a sad tone to your voice that Spencer detected instantly. “Which is why I’m glad you asked me to stay because otherwise my dinner would consist of frozen pizza.” You added. “Don’t forget the bottle of wine that has your name on it.” Spencer jokingly reminded and you couldn't help but let out a soft giggle.

The waiter appeared shortly after. They handed you each a menu and asked whether you would like something to drink in the meantime. Since you had to drive home later, you only asked for water. Not wanting to drink alone, mainly in fear he would blab the reason he was really here in the first place, Spencer did the same. 

Soon enough the two of you were lost in a naturally flowing conversation. Each of you took turns filling every breath with more interesting topics. It wasn’t strange since Spencer and you never particularly had any difficulties in that area. 

You placed your orders briskly, eager to return to whatever it was that you were talking about. Even when the food arrived, if one of you paused to take a bite the other would jump in and start rambling off. It was nice to say the least. 

“Can I ask you something Spencer?” You enquired while finishing your meal and placing the cutlery on top of your empty plate. “Anything.” Spencer replied before taking a sip of his water.

“Do you think I'm making a mistake?”

Spencer wanted to lie and say that you weren't but no matter what way he looked at it, as an ex or as a friend, it just didn't seem fair. Therefore the silence that enveloped around you was answer enough. Slowly, you nodded your head in understanding.

You looked out the large window next to you and let out a quiet sigh. It didn't come as a surprise that Spencer felt this way. It hurt just a little however, mainly because you couldn't bring yourself to admit that sometimes you felt the same way. That there were nights you lay awake thinking that you should have said no. 

You loved Ethan, and he loved you. He made you laugh, he cared for you. If one day you’d have kids you knew that he would make a great father and that your children would get everything they could ever dream of; they wouldn't even have to ask. All of that should be enough to want to spend the rest of your life with him. But there were days, moments, where you couldn't help but feel like something important was missing. 

“Y/N...” Spencer’s voice brought you back to reality. You looked back at him. Meeting his inviting gaze, you pursed your lips into a gentle smile. 

The brunette doctor leaned forward. “Do you remember that case we worked in Missoula a few years back?” He asked, changing the subject. 

Before he got a chance to elaborate you cut in politely, knowing exactly which case he was talking about. “Of course I remember doctor. It was my first case with the team.” You said, fondly remembering the memory.

“Hotch asked you to play Prince Charming to the unsub, which looking back at it now makes a lot of sense to me. You do have a lot of Prince Charming qualities.” Spencer smirked softly at your comment. “I have Prince Charming qualities?” He raised a curious brow.

“Are you kidding me? Charisma, smarts, kind heart. The perfect hair, warm smile, and just overall good looks.” You chimed. The small smile on your face grew a little bigger. “You tick all the boxes my friend. Disney could use you as a blueprint.”

Spencer laughed. “Good to know.” 

The two of you sat there for a second just smiling at one another. 

“Why do you ask though?” You asked reaching for your water; breaking the comfortable silence.

Spencer licked his lips before taking in a quick breath. “You said something to me on the plane back home that I think applies now; ‘Meant to be isn't real. It’s a concept. You can’t know if something is meant to be unless you live through it, therefore you can’t know if something is a mistake unless you give it a go. Fairy tales and happy endings are made only by people that live them.’.” 

Your eyes began to gloss over with tears. Trying to fight back the floods, you chewed down on your bottom lip and swallowed your breath. You couldn't believe he remembered. Yes, he has an eidetic memory but you couldn't believe he remembered.

“You will get your happy ending Y/N.” Spencer stated confidently. “I know you will.” 

“Thank you.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear. 

Slowly, you wiped your cheeks for any tears that escaped your eyes and smiled kindly. “How is it that you always know exactly what to say doctor?”

“Years of practice as a profiler.” He answered. “Plus having an eidetic memory helps.” He joked, shrugging his shoulders.

You giggled, your eyes once again locking with his. This time however there was a sort of shyness surrounding it. When your heart skipped a beat, when the palms of your hands began to sweat, when you couldn't bring yourself to look away, well, that should have been an indication that you were in trouble.

And while you played off the warning signs as nothing more than a friendship bond, Spencer realised that any efforts to ‘find a rebound’ would be wasteful. 

There was no-one on this planet that would come remotely close to you. 

Someday, someday Some way, some way When I'm over you

-

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the third chapter!! i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01​, @reverdevivre​, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy​, @lunaofcrows

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​

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[looking-for-another-world]

Not Alone

summary: Bucky spends Christmas alone at the compound. Or nah?

pairing: Bucky x reader

warnings: 18+, tiny bit of angst, mentions of family toxicity, cursing, explicit smut, dirty talk, like one allusion to reader being plus-sized, soft!bucky, really sappy - you have been warned

words: 6321

a/n: This is my entry for @honeyhan-123​‘s HOLIDAY SPIRIT WRITING CHALLENGE. I had the prompt “Finding the perfect Christmas tree / decorating it” and looking back, I might have slightly diverted from that oops. This was so much fun to do though. This is literally my first finished piece of writing in years, so be nice to me, ok? Right, tmi. Anyways, this has gotten way out of hand in terms of how many words I wanted to write. I might make 3 separate files of it when I’m in the mood to figure out links, but for now here’s the entire fic in one. Enjoy! Also, I hope your 2020 is going to be amazing ❤💫🥂🎆

Prologue

As soon as Bucky stepped into the kitchen of the Avengers compound, his super soldier senses made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Something’s wrong.

It was Dec 23, one day before Christmas Eve, and everyone except him had gone away for the holidays. Clint was visiting Laura and the kids, accompanied by Natasha (apparently, the boys had been nagging their mom for a solid 2 months whether Aunt Tasha would be staying with them), Wanda and Vision were traveling around Europe, Tony had taken Pepper to some little island in the Caribbean Sea, and Steve and Sam had booked a cozy, remote cabin in the woods to go skiing, hiking, getting drunk (well, Sam at least) and most importantly, getting away from being the Avengers for a few days.

Initially, Steve had Friday book the trip for three persons, but Bucky had refused. This was the first Christmas since many years that he was starting to remember who he was, really was, and although Steve was pretty much everything he considered home, he had preferred to spend Christmas where he actually came from.

In the end, Steve had reluctantly agreed, not wanting to push his best friend, but insisting that they at least spoke to one another on the phone every day. And so, Bucky had spent his day wandering the streets of Brooklyn for hours, fulfilling his best friend duty on his way home and telling Steve how much everything had changed and yet, strangely, still felt familiar. He could hear Steve smile through the phone; he felt the same. That’s when Sam had burst through the door of the hut, screeching “All I want for Christmas is you” next to Steve’s ear and ruining the moment. Steve had said his goodbye, leaving to stop Wilson from inhaling another bottle of Eggnog, and Bucky had wished him good luck with the bird brain. He returned to the compound, more mentally than physically exhausted, and headed straight to the kitchen, suddenly remembering that he hadn’t eaten something in hours. And there it was: A small puddle of water on top of the counter, as if someone had taken something out of the fridge and put it there for a moment. Only that there was no one to do that. He was supposed to be alone.

It couldn’t have been him: his soldier and assassin training had left him with an urge to leave everything neat and tidied; no traces. Silently, he made his way back into the hallway, calling the elevator and going two levels down, to the first level that was officially “Avengers territory”. Going back up, he searched every floor without coming across anything suspicious. And then, as the doors of the elevator opened to the 18th floor with a slight swoosh, he sensed it: There’s someone else on this level. He tensed up. His super soldier hearing going into overdrive, he snuck along the dimly-lit corridor until he heard them: sounds coming from the last room to the left, the entertainment room, stacked up with books, movies, consoles, a pool table, anything you could think of to pass your free time. He tried to hear more intently. The person on the other side of the door barely produced sounds; all he could make out was their shallow breathing. Someone with a normal hearing wouldn’t even have caught up on it.

Bucky conjured up a blueprint of the room: even if he could get through the door unnoticed, there was no place to hide. The whole design of the room practically screamed: “Look who’s coming!” His only advantage was the element of surprise. Trying to calm down his nerves, he took a few deep breaths and braced himself. Not wanting to have his arms in a position he could easily be taken hold of in, he stepped back, raised his right leg and kicked the door down, storming inside, met by a piercing scream and a loud splash as the bucket of ice cream you had been holding met the ground.

“(Y/N)?!”

“What the hell?!”

“Why are you here?”

“I fucking live here in case you haven’t noticed! Why are you kicking the goddamn door down like I’m some HYDRA agent trying to slit your throat?”

“Because-”, Bucky stops, guilt washing over him. Guilt and anger with himself. Even HYDRA wouldn’t be so dumb as to blow their cover like that, and they’d do a bit more than get the kitchen counter dirty if they wanted to make their presence known. “Because I thought you were one.” His voice is low now, almost a whisper, his eyes unable to meet yours, fingers fumbling with the hem of the coat he didn’t have time to take off. And seeing him like this, you understood: He thought someone had intruded.

You let out the breath you were holding. “I’m sorry, Buck. I wasn’t thinking. I should have let you know about my change of plans and that I’d be spending Christmas at the compound.”

His ears perked up at that. “You are? I thought you were going to visit your family.” You smiled sadly and now that his mind and body weren’t overtaken by adrenaline anymore, he took in your state for the first time. You looked pale, your eyes red-rimmed, like you had been crying. You were wrapped in the navy-blue blanket twice your size that Wanda had given you for your birthday. It went all the way down to your ankles where the legs of your sweatpants were peeping through, showing just a small stripe of skin before the fabric of a pair of green fuzzy socks covered your skin again. The ice cream you had dropped started melting on the ground, slowly dampening part of the expensive rug the pool table stood on, which you didn’t seem to notice. “What happened?”

You let out a mixture between a snort and an unconvincing laugh. “I talked to my mom on the way to the airport. She started complaining about how much I’ve been letting them down this year, bringing up things I didn’t even think were an issue anymore, and how she hoped I would pull myself together this time, for the sake of Christmas and our family. So, I figured I’d probably have a more fun time being alone in my room and sleeping for like 2 weeks than I’d have being with them.” The last part was meant to sound casually, but Bucky didn’t miss the twitch of your lips and how your eyes started to gloss over again. He wanted to say something to comfort you, but his mind didn’t know where to start and so he just kept staring at you wordlessly, which you took as a sign of annoyance.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you with that shitty Christmas music or candy or anything of that kind. I’m not gonna ruin your alone time. Just pretend I’m not here.”

He frowned at that, then, and as his tongue still seemed to be tied, he did the only thing he felt was appropriate: He put your arms around you and hugged you, hard, all-consuming. “I’m not worried you’re going to ruin my alone time. I like having you around. I’m sorry your family are like that, when they’re the ones letting you down.”

You’d liked to reply to that, thank him for his sweet words, but you were sure you’d start crying again the second you stopped biting down on your lip. So you reciprocated the hug as best as you could; after all you were lacking Bucky’s strength. Bucky squeezed you shortly and let go, and when your eyes locked again, you couldn’t help but mirror his warm smile. Jesus, this guy certainly made you feel things. No surprise you were crushing on him so hard.

“We’d better clean this up”, Bucky said gesturing to the now empty ice bucket head and your eyes widened as you noticed the mess you’d made. “Shit!”. Tony had spent an insane amount of money on that carpet, even for his proportions. He’d shoot you to the moon for that.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Bucky jogged back to the elevator, returning a minute later with a wet cloth and a roll of kitchen towels which he handed to you. Getting to work, you suddenly became aware of how much closer than usually you two were. You could smell Bucky’s aftershave – something resembling cedarwood – watch the muscles in his arms flex as he tried to rid the fabric of its B&J make-over, study the stubble on his perfectly sculpted jaw, his hazelnut locks, his plump lips. Oh god, his lips. Just thinking about having those lips kiss every inch of your body got you worked up. Get a grip, for fuck’s sake!

“So you’re really planning on skipping Christmas? It’s your favorite holiday”, Bucky interrupted your thoughts, shooting you a glance to see you shrug your shoulders. “I don’t want to see my parents right now, and I can’t imagine celebrating Christmas on my own. So yeah, guess I’ll be taking a break from it this year.”

“You’re not on your own, though. You’re with me. We can celebrate.”

You felt a pleasantly warm sensation in your stomach which you tried to ignore, quirking an eyebrow at him instead. “You hate Christmas.”

“I don’t hate all of it, I hate what it’s become. I hate that most people care more about what useless shit is in their stockings or under the tree than about who they’re spending their time with. I hate how every shop starts putting up Christmas stuff before it’s even October. They don’t even call it “Christmas” anymore. I mean seriously, xmas? What’s that even supposed to mean?”

Despite yourself, a small giggle escaped you at how upset he could get about it all and realizing he had started ranting without wanting to, Bucky had to stifle a laugh as well. "Point I’m trying to make is ” he concluded “I wouldn’t mind spending Christmas with the right company.”

Oh, and that’s supposed to be me? Right company?“, you shot back. "Sure thing, doll. You’re like an expert on Christmas, I can’t go wrong with you. Also, I like having you around. ” He furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ve already said that, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, you have. But that’s okay, I like hearing it”, you laughed, your hand briefly touching his arm. You were becoming kind of needy, it appeared. Bucky didn’t seem to mind though, or at least he didn’t let it show.

Looking down, you noticed with an internal sigh of relief that the ice cream puddle had given way to the water and the kitchen towels. All that was left was a wet patch that would hopefully disappear overnight.

“Guess that’s as good as it gets”, you joked. “Thanks for helping me.”

“It’s the least I could do, after scaring the shit out of you.” He took the dirty towels from you. “Guess we’re Christmas buddies then” he grinned. It was surprising how excited he seemed to be all of a sudden, but you didn’t let yourself linger on that thought. “Well, as the official Christmas ambassador, I have to let you know that this place sucks. There’s not even decorations.”

That was true. The past weeks had been incredibly hectic, even more than in previous years, and since almost everyone would be gone over the holiday season anyway and Bucky had emphasized several times that having the tower turn into Santa’s village would most likely lift his dinner, rather than his spirits, Tony hadn’t bothered to put up decorations.

Bucky gave you an amused look. “I see you’re getting into it. Alright, what do we need?”

“You mean, like everything?”

“Yeah, like the ideal setting. Can’t be that difficult.”

You gave him a sceptical look. “Oh no, not at all. We just need the decorations, music, candy, ugly Christmas sweaters, stuff to bake cookies, a firepla-”

“Okay, okay, I take it back.” Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “This is too much. What’s the most important thing?”

“The tree”, you replied without thinking. “The tree is the most important, to me at least. When my dad used to tell me he’d be bringing the Christmas tree home tonight, I’d spend all day glued to the window of my room, waiting for his car to steer into the driveway. It’s the one thing we ever did as a family, all three of us, decorating the tree. Everything else would be pretty much Mum and me, since Dad would be out working. The tree is … it just wouldn’t feel like Christmas without it.”

Inadvertedly, your brain had walked down memory lane to pictures of baubles in gold and red and purple and every color of the rainbow, mingled with the scent of fir and your dad’s bass voice singing “Have yourself a merry little Christmas” to you while you were sitting on your lap, and suddenly another wave of sadness hit you and you had to fight back the tears that were starting to well up again. You swallowed thickly before looking back at Bucky and were met with an understanding look. He had noticed your struggle but chose not to bring it up again and you were grateful for that. Grateful for him.

There were a few beats of silence before the super soldier offered you a tentative smile and said: “So Christmas tree is your final answer?” Another giggle.

"That’s my final answer.”

Part 1

You woke up to a sky the color of granite. Gloomy light and heavy clouds. Your heart jumped a little in your chest at the prospect of another downfall of snow. What’s Christmas without snow, right? Too comfortable to get up right away, you snuggled back into your pillow and let your mind wander.

It was embarrassing, really, but thinking about spending the whole day with Bucky filled you with a mix of anticipation and nervousness you usually felt before first dates. Prior to your job interview last February, you had spent hours and hours hooked up on research about the people you might soon be working with – the fucking Avengers! -, but Bucky’s story, or at least what was known of it to the public, had fascinated and moved you the most. It was hard for you to wrap your head around how someone could endure the most appalling things you could possibly imagine, and that for decades. Someone like the ex-Winter Soldier could barely be human anymore, filled to the brink with hatred and disgust for the world and the people in it, that you were sure of. And then, when you got the job and got to know him – he was the exact opposite. Sure, he was careful and hard to read, especially at the beginning, but he was kind. He was funny. He was emphatic. He was a nerd. He was sweet. And when you moved in to the tower and the two of you spent more time together, your feelings towards him grew stronger, and you found yourself imagining waking up next to him, his lips on yours the first thing you taste in the morning. Cupping his cheek and watching his eyes crinkle when he flashes you his million-dollar smile. Stroking his hair while he reads his favorite passages out to you or rambles about how all the things he’s just discovering now are not quite as good as what they had back in the days, but some of them are not bad. Being pressed down by his weight as you get to explore all of his gorgeous body and find out what sounds he makes when he’s buried in you, filling you up, making you feel so good as you’re begging him not to stop because he’s hitting just the right spot and you never want to let go of him, so good, please Bucky, please don’t stop, oh God, I’m so close baby, fuck…

The loud buzzing of your phone jerked you out of your trance and made you sit up straight in your bed, your heartbeat thumping in your ears, cheeks heated, fingers you didn’t even remember putting there coated in your arousal. Breathing heavily, you stretched your neck to see who the caller was: Mum. Oh, hell no. In a sudden burst of resurging anger, you declined the call, threw your phone away from you and let yourself fall back against the headboard with an audible huff.

Finishing the job wasn’t going to happen after yesterday’s events started rolling in, so you forced yourself out of bed and into the shower, washing away the heat of your little daydream with water as cold as you could bear. Putting moisturizer on, you focused your thoughts on today. If Bucky still wanted to help setting up everything for Christmas, they should get started as soon as possible. An actual Christmas tree was a bit too much to ask obviously, but maybe they could find a fake one and some funny tree ornaments to go along with it? Sweaters shouldn’t be that much of a problem either, they practically threw them in your face around this time of the year. And the Christmas music could easily be taken care of by Spotify.

You started listing the essential ingredients for three or four kinds of Christmas cookies in your head when you left your room to get breakfast. Closing the fridge door, you tried to decide where and in which order to go to get everything you needed on time (or should you split up?) when you noticed the yellow, blue, pink and green dots on the cold metal surface, dancing around in a carefully studied rhythm like colorful fireflies. Frowning, you turned around.

The huge panorama windows were decorated with beautifully woven ice flowers up to almost half of their height and framed by several strings of Christmas lights, cheerfully blinking against the grey sky outside and bathing the living room area in a colorful hue. Now that you stepped closer, the living room looked different as well. The couches and armchairs were covered under thick and fluffy-looking plaids and pillows with different Christmas-themed motives; a very kind looking Santa Claus on one, a couple of reindeer holding cups of Eggnog and singing “Jingle Bells” on another and the slogan “Tis the season” in as much glitter as could be fitted on so small a space emblazoned on a third. There were decorations, too: a nutcracker next to the tv, an angel’s choir holding candles on one of the couch tables, a snowman, a sledge, a rocking horse, a squirrel in a scarf… You couldn’t even decide where to look first. Too preoccupied to take everything in, you didn’t notice Bucky’s presence until he cleared his throat. “Do you like it?” You turned around to meet him, dumbfounded and still trying to understand what was going on, even more so when you saw the sweater he was wearing: fir green and depicting a penguin wearing a Christmas hat. You let out an incredulous laugh. “Did- did you do all this?”

Bucky lowered his gaze briefly and gave you a sheepish smile. “Pretty much, yeah. I’d hoped you’d sleep in. Gave me enough time to set everything up.” Your mouth opened and closed, unable to find words. “I-“ “Wait!” he interrupted. “There’s more.” He outstretched a slightly shaking hand and seeing that you didn’t respond, hastily withdrew it. Finally though, your body and mind seemed to have rebooted, and you grabbed his hand with both of yours. It felt hot against yours, hot and slightly raw. Bucky shot a surprised look from your intertwined hands to your face and you could’ve sworn that his cheeks blushed slightly. Is this even real?

Squeezing your hands slightly, he walked past you and into the living room, pulling you with him. Around the corner, out of your line of sight, there was a slightly smaller lounging area with the best stereo sound system Tony could get his hands on and without tv, designed for the numerous occasions you fancied actually spending time with each other and being able to face each other when chatting or playing games instead of just staring at a huge screen in unison. Now though, the bean bags had been moved to the side and in the center of the room stood – a tree. Not just any tree, but a fir tree about 10 or 11 feet high, almost filling up the room with its size and emanating that unmistakable scent that always took you back to fond Christmas memories. Next to it, on the ground and on several of the bean bags Bucky had piled up a seemingly endless number of boxes containing Christmas baubles of all sorts, ranging from the traditional ones to typical Christmas motives, Disney characters, and even the most absurd things such as very small-sized fruits and vegetables.

You couldn’t remember when your heart had last felt so light and full. If Bucky’s hand hadn’t anchored you, you might have just floated up through the ceiling and into the sky. And why not? Who knew what else might be possible after all this had felt so much like a dream already? Giving yourself no time to think about overstepping boundaries and the like, you threw yourself into Bucky’s arms, feeling rather than noticing his strong arms instantly enveloping your frame. “Thank you.” Your voice was muffled because you had buried your face in the crook of his neck and because you were close to crying again. Sensing your state, Bucky started tracing soothing patterns on your lower back and mimicking his movements, your hands started stroking his broad shoulders. “My pleasure, doll.”

He held you like that for several moments, lightly swaying to and fro, taking deep breaths with you. And after a while, when you’d quieted down a bit, you noticed that not only your heart threatened to jump out of your chest; Bucky’s heart beat a lot faster as well, hammering against his ribcage so much that you could almost feel it against yours. You drew back a little so you could see his face and were met with a look you’d never seen on him before, a look that went straight to your groin. His hands tightened on your back, like he was afraid to let you go, and your nose lightly brushed his. And just as you were about to close your eyes… his phone rang.

The noise startled you so much that you jumped in his arms and Bucky let out an audible sigh. “That’ll be Steve. Be right back.” With that, he let go of you to grab his cell from the kitchen and you felt like someone had just emptied a bucket of ice water over you and snapped you back to reality. More than that, you did feel cold. Had your body grown used to the heat radiating off him so quickly? Also, and that was the most important: What the fuck did just happen?

Bucky returned about 10 minutes later and found you in almost the same spot where he’d left you, now sitting awkwardly on one of the empty bean bags, desperately trying to regain composure. His heart still fluttered from being so close to you, and as he wanted this day to be anything but awkward, he’d spent a good 7 of those 10 minutes away thinking about how to proceed. In a manner he hoped would come across as relaxed, he sauntered over to the closest bean bag and picked up one the boxes filled with baubles. “Soooo”, why was his voice so squeaky? “let’s get started, shall we?”

He couldn’t see your heart slightly sink in your chest because the magical moment had officially passed of course; he just had eyes for the warm smile you offered him in return. “Sure.” You got up to take hold of one the boxes as well when he remembered something. “Hang on.” You raised your head and could make out something slightly mischievous in his orbs. “I won’t be the only one wearing an ugly Christmas sweater.”

—

4 hours later, any sign of awkwardness or discomfort between the two of you had officially gone to the wind. As instructed, you’d put on the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find (an awful mix of pink and gold in the shape of a Christmas elf with actual bells that jingled whenever you moved), Bucky had put on some music and you’d gone about your business. At some point (probably after your fourth cup of cocoa with rum and Bucky’s third pint of Asgardian mead he’d snatched from Thor’s quarters), you decided to forego any sense of aesthetics and just put up as many ornaments as would fit on the tree. As a result, it now looked as if the slightest gust of wind would make it collapse on the spot, but you two were oddly proud of your work. Taking cocoa and mead with you, you decided to have a small break and moved over to the living room area.

There were a few beats of comfortable silence, Sinatra softly buzzing in the background. Then, out of the blue, Bucky asked you to tell him your favorite joke. You were too tipsy to question how he’d come up with that, so you pondered his request for a moment and then answered. “I hate Russian dolls. They’re so full of themselves.”

Bucky sat up on his spot of the couch and gave you an odd stare that made you wonder whether he’d understood you at all, and then burst out of laughter, almost spilling his drink in the process and making you laugh in return. You’d never really heard his laugh, just the occasional snort when he deemed something worthy of a reaction, but this was a sound made from the gods themselves and you could listen to it all day, every day, for the rest of your life.

Slowly, his fit came down to a low, melodious chuckle. “Honestly doll, sometimes I want to kiss you all over.” “Don’t hold back.”

The words had come out of your mouth before you could stop them. They didn’t remotely sound as teasing or nonchalant as you had meant them to. They sounded sincere, almost desperate. Because they were. And suddenly, as you watched Bucky’s expression falter, you felt remarkably sober again. Oh god.

Part 2

Carefully, Bucky stood up, moved over and sat down next to you. “Are you serious about this, (Y/N)?”

Heat crept up your skin, all the way from the swells of your breasts to your ears. You’d honestly never felt that put on the spot. Unable to answer, your gaze fixed the carpet, hoping that if you stared long enough, maybe it would do you a favor and swallow you whole. Bucky was now less than inch from you, close enough for you to smell his shampoo, his breath fanning the side of your face, making things only worse for you. Your heart sank deeper and deeper until you could feel it in your stomach, heavy like a rock. This day had been going so well. Why did you have to ruin it with your stupid inebriated brain? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

And then you felt his flesh hand cup your face, softly turning your head to meet his eyes. Those beautiful, cerulean eyes. “Because I’d really, really like to kiss you.” Frowning, you shook your head, your synapses refusing to process that bit of information. You swallowed several times before you found your voice again. “Please don’t mess with me, Bucky”, you heard yourself whisper, at which Bucky violently shook his head. “I promise.” And then his lips were on yours and you kissed him back.

It started out innocently enough, slow, tentative kisses, allowing the other to back out in case they changed their mind. Only that he didn’t back out like you thought he would. And you didn’t back out like he thought you would. Realizing how effortlessly your mouths pressed against each other, how right his lips felt on yours, you gradually grew bolder. You turned slightly to mirror his position and your hands went up to his face, feeling the stubble on his chin and jaw before carding through the silky strands of his locks at the back of his neck. One hand in his hair, you let the other explore more of his body as you felt up his biceps, his back, his chest abs. A content hum escaped his throat which only spurred you on. One hand in his hair and one bunching up the fabric covering his chest, you pressed yourself closer to him. His grip on your face tightened as he opened his mouth and his tongue caressed your bottom lip. Greedily, you welcomed him in your mouth and let out a deep sigh as your tongues met for the first time and the two of you fought for dominance over the other.

Bucky’s hands wandered down your body to the hem of your shirt and his lips soon followed suit. You let out a whimper when he sucked at the sensitive skin of your pulse point, determined to mark you. You’d never really liked hickeys, but this was different. You wanted everyone to see, see what had happened between the two of you. While your hands tangled in his hair, his slowly made their way under the fabric of your sweater, exploring the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your belly, cool on your right side, burning on your left.

It was so much more than you’d ever dreamed of, almost too much to bear, and yet his touches only made you more impatient, more needy, more desperate to have him. “Bucky…” It was barely more than a sigh, but Bucky’s head shot up at the sound and his eyes met yours. “What’s it, sweetheart? Talk to me” You took a moment to take him in, tracing his glistening bottom lip with your thumb. “I need you.” Bucky pressed his forehead against yours. “I need you too, doll. So much. That’s why I’m so scared of messing up with you.” You took his face in your hands again and pressed a kiss to his forehead, his eyes closing at the sensation. “There’s no way in hell you can mess up with me, James. Don’t hold back. Take me.” Bucky let out a shuddering breath. “Please.”

It was like a switch had been flicked. Bucky leapt forward and buried you under his weight, making you sink into the soft cushions. Kissing you even more passionately than before, he positioned himself between your legs. The bulge in his pants now clearly noticeable, he started grinding down on you and the friction made you pool with lust. You let out an audible groan that made Bucky’s cock twitch. Steadying himself with his metal hand, he clumsily lifted your shirt up your body with his right hand so the fabric bunched up over your breasts. Eager to assist, you arched your back to unclasp your bra and pulled it up as well. Bucky’s hand immediately reached out to palm the newly exposed skin while his tongue darted out to massage your already swollen buds. He went from left to right and right to left, making you stick your chest out as much as you could, before suddenly taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking greedily on it. You cried out in pleasure and his dark eyes went to scan your face, lip drawn in between your teeth, eyes pressed shut, your breathing getting heavier by the minute. Too mesmerized by the sight of you, he didn’t notice your hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair move from his back to the front of his pants until you massaged his erection through the fabric, running your palm up and down his impressive bulge. He let go of your breast to take a deep breath and used his right hand to feverishly rub your clothed pussy, causing you to yelp in surprise. Your hand gripped his wrist, urging him to slow down. “Don’t want to finish off like that. Need you inside me.”

Bucky’s answer was an appreciative growl. He stood up, freeing himself first from the sweater that was becoming increasingly hot and then from his jeans and boxers. His size was impressive, the tip swollen and glistening with pre cum and you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together in anticipation.

“Uh-uh. Let me take care of that sweetheart.” His voice was now a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. Agonizingly slow, he unbuttoned your pants and pulled them off you, groaning when he got a glimpse of your drenched panties. Sitting back on his haunches, he pushed your knees apart and ran his palms up the inside of your thighs, then softly ghosted over the purple cotton, before hooking his thumbs under the waistband. “Show me your pretty pussy, (Y/N).” In one swift motion, the piece of clothing was gone, and Bucky let out a low hiss at the sight of your wet folds. “Fuck, doll. You’re ven more beautiful than I imagined.” You were at a complete loss for words, but Bucky didn’t give you time to respond anyway. He took a hold of his erection and coated in in your juices, your overstimulated body jumping at the sensation, before locking eyes with you and carefully sliding his tip inside you. You both let out a needy whimper when he filled you up, going deeper and deeper, your pussy obediently swallowing him, until he bottomed out.

Bucky was still on his haunches, giving you time to adjust to him, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You okay?” You nodded. “You can move.” Bucky started thrusting in and out of you, accelerating his pace when it became obvious that you were in as much pleasure as he. Soon, he was mercilessly fucking you into the couch, snapping his hips forward and pulling out until just the tip remained inside you, and then repeating his actions, over and over and over again. When he used his metal hand to draw circles on your clit, you were a whimpering mess beneath him, uttering incoherent curses and multiple variations of his name. You felt the familiar sensation build up in your gut and squeezed his hand to hold off, but he wasn’t having it, only increasing his efforts. With a muffled scream, you came all over his dick, your whole body shaking from the intensity of it. The sight of you coming undone combined with your cunt convulsing around his dick pushed Bucky over the edge as well and his thrusts became sloppier as he painted your walls with his seed and then collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and bathed in sweat.

—

Your second time together was slow and gentle, taking all the time you now knew you had, making sure to leave no inch of your lover’s body unattended to. The third time was rough again, Bucky fucking you against the shower tiles, cold water pouring down on you because you’d accidentally changed the setting when Bucky had lifted you and neither of you had noticed. The times that followed took place in various places of the Tower; the pool table where Bucky had found you the day before, the kitchen island, Sam’s bed (which seemed to give him a particular kind of satisfaction), in several of Tony’s cars, at one of the panorama windows, your front against the shining outline of the city (and the fake ice crystals) while Bucky took you from behind, all the while whispering sinful things to you that drove you insane, how often he’d sat in his room fucking his fist to your image, your plump lips that were just made for his cock, your curves that made your entire body jiggle when he drove into you, that beautiful ass of yours, imagining your sweet voice begging him to make you feel good. After all, it appeared he’d thought about you as often as you had about him.

—

You woke up to a rose-tainted sky and soft kisses peppered across the back of your neck, your shoulders and along your spine. You giggled into your pillow. Bucky’s strands brushing your bare skin gave you a tickling sensation. “You’re up early.” Bucky hummed into the crook of your neck, making your skin vibrate. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about before heading out for my run.” You turned around to face him, his hair tousled, eyes still glossed over from sleep. Nobody should be allowed to look that gorgeous. “What is it?”

“Steve and Wilson will be back from their trip in a few hours and they will pester me about my crush on you and whether I’ve finally done something about it.” He rolled his eyes and your smile grew wider. “What are you going to tell them?” Bucky reached for your hand and gently squeezed it. “I’d like to tell them that I asked you out on a date and that you agreed, but that wouldn’t be entirely true, would it?” You quirked an eyebrow. “So you’re asking me for permission to lie to your best friend?” Bucky laughed at that, that kind of laugh that made his eyes crinkle. “Y/N, would you like to go out on a date with me?”

You tilted your head to the side. “Depends. Does that mean we’re gonna have to sleep in separate beds again?” Bucky raised your hand to his mouth and softly kissed your knuckles, then he stretched his head and planted a kiss on your forehead. “No way. What do you say?”

“Yes.”

[aurelia-blake-carter]

    - REFERENCE TO SEXUAL ACTIVITY SO WARNING IF NEEDED (NSFW MENTIONED) -

"You want me to—what?" Aurelia's mouth dropped open as she stared at the older Winchester in disbelief. "You're—You are not serious." She looked at Sam, pointing at Dean like he had finally snapped. "Sam, can you believe him?"

     Sam shifted a bit but he didn't say anything, just glancing between the two of them. Aurelia forced a laugh. "You.. You're not agreeing with me—Sam! You both are ridiculous!"

     Dean took a swig of his beer, watching her get as flustered as she was. "Come on, it won't even be that bad." He encouraged. "You've always said that you respect them because of their upper body strength and confidence level!" He tipped his beer towards her. "You are just stepping into their life for a night or two."

      Aurelia covered her face with her hands. "Dean!" She groaned. "That never meant, not once, that I wanted to walk into a strip club and ask to get on stage and be a dancer!" She snapped. She could have grabbed his beer and poured it over his head. "Besides, they would definitely say no."

      Sam gave her a look. "You, not to be weird, are attractive, and have a healthy body.. shape so I don't see a reason for the owner to reject you." He shifted uncomfortably, like he felt awkward for—

     "Basically, you're hot." Dean chimed. "You could definitely work a crowd." He said.

      Aurelia turned pink. "I don't know if I should be flattered or offended." She huffed. She lifted her shirt, showing a faded scar down her side. "How about scars, you idiots. I don't think anyone wants a scarred up dancer shaking her ass in their face."

      Dean opened his mouth to respond and she pointed at him. "You even think I'm wrong, I'm putting a bullet in your kneecap." Dean closed his mouth abruptly.

      Sam put his hand on her side. "Listen, Auri, the only reason that we ask you is because we do know there's a nest at that club taking strippers—"

       "Killing or turning them, I know." She groaned, dropping against the bed in annoyance. "But.. why can't we just be FBI and ask to speak with the staff?"

      "You know this nest has moved three times already." Sam responded.

      "If we even look like hunters, the pack will run and will leave a trail of bodies. If we get an insider?"

      "We can kill them from the inside out, I know." Aurelia sighed. She put a pillow over her head to hide her embarrassment.

      "However, if you really don't want to do this, we can try to find another way…" Sam sat back down at the table.

      Aurelia was quiet for a long time, trying to come up with a better plan than the one they had. She couldn't. She sat up and threw the pillow against the wall, as if expelling her anger, embarrassment and annoyance. "Fuck."

    "You nervous?" One of the other ladies, Emily, asked her. Emily was gorgeous, strongly built and the confidence level she gave off made Aurelia want to sink back into a hole. Emily was a natural ginger haired beauty, but Aurelia was somehow sure the green eyes were contacts. "I remember being shaken so bad my first time I got sick right before I had to go on."

       Aurelia nodded, giving her an distressed smile. "I'm just… not used to this." She gestured to the outfit. It was theme night at the club on her first night. Emily was adorned in silk red outfit that showed all the best, with a black lace long dress cover that hide the "goods" as Emily put it. Aurelia's favorite? The devil horns and tail that was attached to her outfit.

      Aurelia on the other hand was the exact opposites, dressed up in a one piece that thankfully covered her essentials, gold slivers woven beautifully in the costume. The white wings felt like the universe was making fun of her.

     "Be glad they didn't immediately give you the heels, though." Emily hummed while sliding on her final coat of lip gloss. "One of our previous dancers said she knew how to dance in them, lied of course, and nearly broke her ankle on stage. Its important to stay safe while dancing." The red head nudged Aurelia. "Don't worry too much, hun. Just follow my lead and you'll do great! You only have to do one dance tonight then Mave is gonna put you on the floor to give out drinks and orders."

       I don't know which is worse. Aurelia thought. She looked at herself in the mirror, taking in a deep breath. From an outside prospective, she probably looked amazing but she could see the peeks of her scars and her odd tan lines. She started to pick apart her confidence little by little before Emily slammed her hands on the sides of Aurelia's shoulders.

      "Stop stressing, hun. You're the sexiest girl here." She winked. She started leaving the room. "I'll meet you outside for our dance in five." With a soft click, Emily shut the door behind her.

      Aurelia raced for her phone, dialing Dean immediately. When he picked up, she didn't even let him greet the call: "I can't do this!" She panicked.

       Dean hushed her. "Sweet heart, you got this. It's one night." He tried to reason.

       "I don't know anything about this, Dean!" She whined. "I know nothing about dancing sexy or acting sexy or just anything remotely attractive—"

       She heard Dean move to cover the mic. "I knew she would flip." She heard him say to Sam. "Okay, sweet heart, in your bag, I put a small earphone. Remember how I helped Charlie when she worked for Dick?" Aurelia nodded, trying to control her breathing. "You're lucky I know you just nodded. I slipped one the same speaker in your bag. Put it in, and I'll walk you through the dance."

     Aurelia dug through her bag. "Oh, so you've been a stripper before, Dean?" It was a sad attempt but she honestly didn't know what else to say or do.

      She heard him laugh. "No, of course not. But I've seen plenty." She slipped the speaker in her ear, covering it with her hair. She set the phone down. 

    "Can you hear me?" Dean's voice resonated through her eardrums. She felt oddly calm because of it.

      "I can." She responded. She hung up the phone. "What do I do?"

      "Get out there because you're about to be next. I'll help you through this. It's me and you, hun. Just focus on me."

     When Aurelia got out on the stage with Emily, the light was almost blinding. She could barely see the crowd but she could feel the eyes, waiting for the two of them. Emily took a bow, slowly and precise, smirking at the crowd like she was born to this. Aurelia tried her best to copy it.

      "Relax your face." Aurelia almost flinched, not expecting Dean's voice. "Give us a.. almost sleepy smile." Aurelia did as told. "Much better… Now, you use your hand, trail it down your leg as you bow—yeah, like that."

      Emily smiled at the crowd, getting into a pose next to Aurelia. "We've practiced this, Angel." She purred into Aurelia's ear. "Just do the routine, and feel the beat."

      She could hear Dean chuckle. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

     From the moment the song blasted through the club, she moved in time with Emily as best as she could. She would hear Dean every once and a while say a comment to arch her back a bit, or spread her legs a bit more to make the move more natural. Despite the entire situation, she felt almost full of thrill and Dean's coaching wasn't too bad either. When the song had stopped, she was covered in a thin layer of sweat, heat from the lights and from the rapid bodywork.

      "You're glowing, sweet cheeks." Aurelia sent a glare in what she assumed to be his direction. "Hey, if you're gonna glare, be seductive about it. Don't want to break your cover." He snickered into the mic.

      I'm really going to shoot him in the kneecap.

      Later, she stopped by their table, handing Dean and Sam their drinks. Dean snickered as she got closer. "My angel." He purred towards her, grabbing his beer and popping off the top.

       "I will hurt you." She replied without missing a beat.

       "I mean, what luck that you're first night is Devils and Angel's night?" Dean teased.

       Aurelia gripped her tray. "I will smack you as soon as this job is finished, Winchester. I swear on it." She promised, eyes deadly serious. However, she couldn't deny in the back of her head she liked how his eyes drifted across her like it had. When she had been dancing, the thought that he was watching so closely made her feel like she was on fire for some reason.

         Sam was the opposite, he kept only looking at her face, making sure not to drift elsewhere. "If you two are done flirting," he cleared his throat. "Case?"

         Aurelia nodded, glancing back at Mave. "Mave is the owner and… he caters very well to new staff." She muttered. "Hes only been owner for two weeks, new promotion when the other manager quit suddenly." She whispered. The boys drifted their eyes towards them. "Emily said that she's been working at the club for years and when Mave became owner, things started going to shit. Pay cuts, abusive treatment, and 'uncomfortable treatment's'." She put the tray underneath her arm, leaning across the table like she was sweet talking the two. "She said he's tried to get her a 'promotion' several times but she keeps refusing because a promotion would ruin her day schedule with her kid." She relayed. "He wasn't happy the last time she said no."

       Sam looked away from the owner when he looked up, glancing around the club. "So he must be the best leader. Any idea on the rest?" He inquired.

       "Still working on it but I've got some ideas." She replied. Suddenly there was a sharp sting against her ass and Aurelia stood up abruptly, spinning around.

        "Come on, fan favorite. You've got more drinks to serve, hun." She wrapped her arm around Aurelia's waist. "If you'll excuse us." With that, The devil dragged away the angel.

         Dean took a swig of his beer, watching the two basically strutting away. "Best decision we've made."

        Sam threw one of Dean's fries at him. "Dude, gross. You're drooling."

      Later on when the club was shutting down, she saw Marv get pulled the dancers to the back. He handed out what they had made, Aurelia being pleasantly surprised on the amount of tips that were given towards her. She pocketed the cash, finally glad to be in normal clothes once more. He also chose a selective few dancers to the take to the back. On her way out, she watched Mave close the door when two other bouncers had snuck in as well. Aurelia gripped the blade. She spoke into the earpiece. "Dean?"

       "You got sight?" He asked.

       She didn't answer at first, just watched through the blinds of the office. Until one of the bouncers moved in front of the window, gave her a grin and she could see it. A second row of pointed teeth.

       She slid her blade out, heading towards the office on the other side of the club. "I got teeth, hurry up." She hissed.

       "Don't go in there alone!" Dean yelled. She could hear them both scrambling out the car. "Wait for us."

       "I can't just wait, Dean—" She answered, about to break into the door to the office. A voice cut her off.

      "Pretty angel, you're supposed to be gone." Aurelia's blood ran cold. She spun around to face Emily. The red head was smiling, a second set of teeth glinting from the few lights in the club. "Newbies are really supposed to leave when we close, not snoop." She crossed her arms. "And carry around big scary blades like that, too."

        Aurelia spun it, moving away from the door, figuring it was best to only take on the one vamp versus altering all of them and then have all on her ass. "I get curious." She spat. "You can't really trust anyone these days."

        "Especially hunters." Emily stepped forward. "That's why when you started asking all those questions? I really had to give you a better target, Mave instead of me." Her body language changed, like she was about to pounce on prey.

      Emily then launched forward, going to do an upper cut to Aurelia's jaw. The blonde blocked the strike, kicking the vamp in the stomach to knock her back. With Emily preoccupied, Aurelia swung her blade as hard as she could, decapitating the monster. As the head rolled off, she noticed Sam and Dean had just burst through the door.

      Aurelia flicked her blade. "You're late." She mumbled. The door behind her burst open and Mave and the two bouncers raced out, all of them going for one of the hunters. The girls inside her unconscious, blood coming out of them. Dead, or turned. Aurelia couldn't tell.

     After a brief struggle of Aurelia nearly being strangled to death, the three had killed the nest and ran to the girls. Two were dead, one turned. Thankfully, after waiting for the girl to gain consciousness, she admitted she refused to feed. They were able to cure her.

       On the way home to the bunker, Dean turned down the music. "So, Auri, how was it?" He asked.

       Aurelia tilt her head back and groaned. "How many times are you going to ask me how it was back stage?" She complained. "It was overwhelming!" She answered. "I danced, I probably looked like an awkward chicken with puppet strings when I did and we killed the monsters! End of story." She huffed. Sam let out a snicker.

       Dean held up a finger. "For the record, you're performance? Was the absolute opposite of what… whatever you just described." He told her. His eyes locked with hers and an emotion she rarely seen directed at her swirled around in his eyes. His pupils were a bit large and the color was dark. Goosebumps rose to her skin at the look. "You looked phenomenal." He finished.

       Aurelia managed to tear her eyes away from him, shifting a bit in the seat to calm her now scorching body temperature.

      "Once again, can you two stop flirting?" Sam asked, looking at the two. Dean smirked as he turned up the music, ACDC blasting throughout the car as his answer. His eyes locked with hers again.

       I'm never going to live this down.

[phantomrose96]

A Breach of Trust: Chapter 20

(Act 1: Chapter 1-9 )

(Act 2: Chapter 10-18 )

(Act 3: Chapter 19 , Chapter 21)

Ritsu’s brow gleamed with the slightest coating of sweat by the time Black Vinegar Mid came into view. At 7:50 am, the sun had risen just a bit hotter, the humidity had settled just a bit denser, and though it made Ritsu angry to admit it, walking the mile distance between Salt Mid and Black Vinegar Mid took more energy than he’d managed to recover since his fight with Teru.

It left his body feeling flushed and shaky, his forehead slick and body sticky in his stolen uniform, but Ritsu decided not to dwell on it. Dwelling meant remembering, and remembering made Ritsu’s seething hatred for Teruki Hanazawa flare like fireworks in his chest. He needed to stifle that hatred if he had any hope of finding Teru now and not punching him in the face.

He fell into stream with the pockets of kids headed toward school, boys in the same lilac uniform that Teru had been wearing the other day, girls in something more periwinkle with bows instead of ties. The ties caught Ritsu’s attention first, bright and stark and green around every boy’s neck, and the sight of each of them filled him with an icy thrill down his spine, quickened his heartrate, made him sweat more. So Ritsu ignored the ties, especially once he noticed his staring prompted the boys to stare back. He wiped his brow. His sleeve came away smeared with wet chalky foundation. The cuffs, too long on this stolen uniform, concealed his split knuckles and bruised hands.

Ritsu stared over the heads of students instead, hoping that dyed blond would be easy to spot in a sea of blacks and browns. He scanned them one group at a time—most students walked in huddles; three excited girls hunched in and whispering, giggling; four boys in a line staring forward, or at the sky, or the ground as they walked; single students walking with earbuds in, hands in their pockets. Ritsu kept pace, and then sped up so he could search the front of the crowd. Nothing. Sweat trickled down his neck. He was skipping his own first period to be here, and Teru was nowhere in sight.

Ritsu felt it like an assault—the probing spear of eyes boring into his back, neck hair raised and heartbeat quickened. He snapped his head, twisting at the hips to make eye contact with a Black Vinegar girl walking behind him. She stood center in a group of three girls. Her chestnut hair was shoulder-length, glossy and artificially wavy. There was a certain judgmental hostility in her bright eyes, which lightened only slightly when Ritsu made eye-contact in return.

“Do you know where Teruki Hanazawa is?” Ritsu asked on impulse. He didn’t like the look in the girl’s eyes, and he didn’t want to look away without getting a word in.

A hint of surprise crossed her face. “…Why?”

“We’re working on something together. I need to know where he is.”

The girl stopped, because Ritsu blocked her path. The other two girls paused, eyeing Ritsu with a similar distrust before the first girl shooed them on with a wave of her hand.

“I’ll catch up once I know what he wants,” the girl said, blunt, and her two friends carried on in silence. Other students too filtered around Ritsu and the girl, glancing side-long with mild curiosity at the two of them. The bell behind Ritsu rung out, harsh and shrill. 7:55, a warning bell for the start of the day. The girl ignored it, scanning Ritsu’s face instead, eyes lingering on the spots where the bruising hadn’t quite faded.

“What’s wrong with your face?” the girl asked. She pursed her lips, glossy and bright. “And what do you want with my Teru?”

Ritsu’s brow twitched. “Just tell him Ritsu Kageyama is looking for him. He’ll know what it means.”

“I don’t know that name.”

Ritsu paused a moment. “He’ll want to know I’m here.”

The expression on the girl’s face was something just a bit condescending, just a bit disbelieving. She pulled her flip phone out of her pocket anyway, glanced at it quickly while shooting off a text, and held it shoulder height in front of her. She smelled like flowers, Ritsu noticed, though he wasn’t sure if it was perfume or her lip gloss.

The phone buzzed. The girl glanced at it, flipping it open and appearing to read the text twice. Her brow furrowed. “I told him some beaten-up looking kid in a Salt Mid uniform is looking for him. He says he knows you. Teru will be here in a minute.”

“…Thank you,” Ritsu said, flat, positive that he hated this girl as well.

She twirled a finger through her hair. The flood of students around them had thinned. “Don’t thank me. I’m waiting for him to walk me to my classroom anyway.”

The next seconds passed in silence. Ritsu felt another bead of sweat trickle down from his hairline, though he did not dare wipe it away. He stood a little taller, tried to hide the annoyance on his face. This girl meant nothing to him, so he shouldn’t care how she looked at him, or what she thought of him.

Then her eyes shifted to the left, and they brightened, as a new shadow stole away the low sunlight. The coldness vanished from her face at the same time Ritsu felt his stomach drop—the cadence of approaching footsteps was familiar.

“Teru,” she chimed, skipping forward, meeting him halfway. She reached a hand out and intertwined her fingers with his, spinning around so as to wrap herself beneath Teru’s left arm, which now draped around her shoulder. She leaned into him, free hand braced to his side, and rested her cheek against his shirt. “I missed you so much this weekend. Camping was the worst.”

Teru leaned in and planted a light kiss on the top of her head. The girl giggled. Teru made eye contact with Ritsu, appraising him, gauging to see if he was jealous. Ritsu already found himself fighting down the urge to punch Teru in the face.

“I missed you too, Mei Darling. How about we go out for lunch today, hmm? Anywhere you like. My treat.”

“Teru Sweetie, you spoil me.”

Ritsu watched, silently, distinctly aware that he hated being alive at this moment.

His eyes trailed to Teru’s tie. It hung just a bit loose, cinched with a tiny bit of slack so that nothing touched Teru’s throat.

Teru caught Ritsu’s gaze. He unfurled his arms from Mei, set both hands to his tie and tightened it purposefully, aggression in his eyes as they burned back against Ritsu’s. Ritsu hated the involuntary thrill of fear it sent down his spine.

“Well, guess it’s time to deal with today’s garbage. Get to class Mei, Love, I’ll catch up with you later.”

Mei’s face soured again, remembering Ritsu. “Who is this kid? Some thug you were hired to beat up?”

“I’m not—”

“Something like that, Snookum.”

“You should stop doing favors for those delinquents.” Mei leaned in, trailed a finger in circles against Teru’s sleeve. “…It takes away from us-time.”

“This won’t take too long, I promise. Remember, lunch today. Now run along. I wouldn’t want you being tardy today, Love.”

“You’re not going to walk me to my classroom…?”

Teru pulled her close and planted another kiss on her forehead, then pulled back. “Tomorrow, Sweet-Pea.”

Mei shot one last withering look to Ritsu, then conceded. “Fine…” And she hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder, and stepped toward the Black Vinegar entrance.

Teru shot a side-glance to Ritsu, smile curling triumphantly. “Yes, that is Mei Hamadate, I’m sure you probably figured that out already. And yes, she’s dating me.”

Ritsu blinked, processing with a note of relief that he was done dealing with the girl. “…Who?”

“…Mei Hamadate” Teru answered, more tensely.

“I don’t know who that is.”

“You must not know many people,” Teru bit back. His face darkened, a scowl blooming in place of his flirtatious smile. He swept a long lock of yellow bangs away from his eyes, icy blue and fiercely sharp, kicking up Ritsu’s guard which had loosened in the last couple minutes. “But more on topic—why the hell are you here exactly?”

The change in atmosphere rocked him. Ritsu solidified his stance, and he glanced side to side discreetly. No more students funneled past them, and the lack of eye-witnessed set Ritsu on edge. The 8am bell rung from the front of the school—late.

“What—why is this surprising? You agreed to help me. That’s what I’m here about, obviously. What else would I—”

“I mean here-here. In person. At my school. Talking with my girlfriend? Did you want to announce to the whole world that we’re conspiring, or is the entirety of Black Vinegar Mid enough for you?”

“What are—how else was I supposed to find you, huh?” Ritsu challenged, defensive. “You didn’t give me your phone number when you left the locker room.”

“Find me on Facebook, you stupid child,” Teru ground out. “Or Instagram. Twitter. Snapchat me, if you care about being discreet. This isn’t rocket science.”

Ritsu’s eyes flitted between Teru’s—left, right, left again. “I don’t have a Facebook. I don’t use it.”

Teru’s eyebrow quirked, and his chin rose, and the light teasing smile returned to his face. “Oh?”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m here in person. Let me just…give you my number now so we—”

“No no, explain this to me. Why no Facebook? Are you too cool for it, Kageyama? Is it a hipster thing?”

“It’s not a ‘thing.’ I just never made one. Where’s your phone?”

“My phone?”

“Your phone. I need your number.”

“What if I made you a Facebook, Kageyama?”

“I don’t need one. What’s your number?”

“No wonder you haven’t found your brother, huh? I’ve got 3,000 friends and you couldn’t even find me.”

Ritsu met Teru’s eyes, and it was with open hostility. Teru’s smile widened.

“Give me your phone, Hanazawa…”

Teru pulled his phone from his pocket. He flicked it forward, corner pointed toward Ritsu. Ritsu reached for it, until Teru snapped it back to his own chest.

“Say, Kageyama, why don’t I check if your brother has a Facebook account?” Teru flicked his wrist twice more, phone flaunted, its five rhinestone charms dangling, swaying. They were hearts and opalescent stars, glittery in the low morning light. Teru’s voice dipped sing-song. “Not like you’ve checked. He could’ve been on Facebook this whole time and you just wouldn’t know, that’s hilarious. I wonder how many friends he has.”

“Don’t—”

“’Shigeo Kageyama’ yeah? What should I do if I find him, hmm?” The screen brightened. Teru flipped carelessly to his Facebook app. “Friend him on your behalf? Like his status? Oh why don’t I just poke him to break the ice?”

Ritsu grabbed Teru’s wrist, firm, tight, his nails digging just a bit into Teru’s flesh. He pulled down until Teru was forced to lower his phone, charms clinking.

“Stop it. Stop that. Don’t you dare make light of this. Don’t you dare make fun of him. Or me. I won’t let you.”

Teru glanced to his wrist and back. His playful smile did not falter. “Little stressed there, aren’t you?” He yanked, once, and Ritsu lost his grip entirely. “No need to be so uptight, Kageyama. We’re having fun.”

“This is not fun.”

“Well I’m having fun.”

Ritsu’s lip twitched. Stress shivered through his body in waves, curling in flashes of anger, frustration, heating his face. A sense of powerlessness threatened to pull him under, so he breathed deep, and forced himself to move on. “We’re breaking into a building today.”

Teru brightened. “Oh?”

“An office building. I spoke with the spirits this morning. Gimcrack says they’ve found a building, it’s nearby, that’s got some sort of aura pulsing from it. One of the top floors, in back, something with a psychic aura is there.”

“Your brother?”

“They don’t know.”

“Let me ask him on Facebook.”

“Stop.”

“It’s hilarious.”

“It’s not.” Ritsu waited, tense. Teru only watched him expectantly. “The spirits don’t know if it’s him because they haven’t gotten close. Gimcrack says there’s a large risk of getting eaten if he gets too close and it turns out to be a powerful spirit. So they won’t. We have to.”

“You trust Gimcrack?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ritsu answered. Wind swept up his bangs, still slick. “It’s better like this, because if it is—when it is my brother, I want to be the one to go in, and kill his Shishou myself. I don’t want Gimcrack or anyone else doing it. It’ll be me.”

“That’s perhaps the only smart thing you’ve said so far. Handling that part by yourself. I wouldn’t trust the spirits with much of anything, unlike you.”

“You have your own horde.”

“Different purposes.”

Ritsu gritted his teeth. He ran his fingers through his hair and straightened. “It’s some old office building near the Salt Mid edge of town. I’m going after school with Gimcrack and two of the other spirits. You’re coming too.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

“Ooh sounds fun. Hope I’m not imposing on your date with Gimcrack.”

“You’re not funny, when you do this, you know. I know you’re doing it intentionally. Annoying me. Trying to get a reaction out of me. It’s sad. Cut it out.”

“It’s not nearly as sad as you bleeding yourself dry for some slimy parasitic roaches, but to each his own I suppose.”

Ritsu’s fingers clenched and unclenched. He shot a hand out and grabbed Teru’s phone, prying it from Teru’s grip until he held it in his own hands. Teru didn’t fight for it back, so Ritsu opened the messenger, and started a new conversation with himself, and sent himself a simple “hello”.

“You know you say a lot of god-awful things about Gimcrack, but he’s much easier to work with than you are.”

“I don’t steal your life energy.”

“You beat me bloody five days ago, in case you forgot.”

“And you strangled me with my own tie.” Teru stepped forward, snatched his phone from Ritsu’s grasp with his left hand, and mussed up Ritsu’s hair with his right. Ritsu pedaled away, flattening his hair back down frantically, indignantly. Teru smiled. “I’m glad we’re pals.”

Ritsu took another four steps back. Energy churned just beneath his palms, fueled by the anger coursing through his veins, ears bludgeoned with the sound of blood pumping past them. He bit down hard enough that, were his lip between his teeth, he’d have easily drawn blood.

Then Ritsu eased. “After school. Meet me at Salt Mid. We’re going.”

He spun around, and walked away from Black Vinegar Mid, hot sun assaulting his face. He felt the phone in his hand buzz, and it startled him. Ritsu tilted his hand, flipped the phone open and found a new text from an unidentified number.

“hello” “shall we meet in our usual place?”

The text was decorated in heart and star emoticons, a single kissy-face used to punctuate the end of the text.

“The alley is fine.”

“i like the soccer field more ;)”

Ritsu didn’t answer. He snapped the phone shut and stowed it in his pocket, stress seeming to leak through his pores along with the sweat. He ran his fingers through his hair, and fantasized about beating Teruki Hanazawa bloody.

“Don’t let him get to you kid. He’s an asshole.” The voice came from three inches to Ritsu’s right. Ritsu jumped, nearly yelped, and spun to see Gimcrack floating alongside him. The spirit, with its three red eyes, and body black as night, split a razor-sharp grin. “And hey thanks, I like being partners with you too.”

Ritsu walked faster. He ignored Gimcrack. Power still itched beneath his palms.

He remembered the kissy face emojis in Teru’s text, and he let loose an aimless blast of purple energy into the ground, leaving a circle of brittle yellowing grass charred wholly black.

…

The balcony door rattled shut behind Reigen, and he shivered, the tips of his hair dripping wet, suit stained damp, exposed skin slicked with flecks of rain. He smothered his cigarette butt in the ashtray near the door.

“Just a rainy fall this is going to be, I guess. I don’t remember it ever raining so much before. Well, maybe it has, I dunno.”

Reigen sauntered in, snagged one of the blankets off the couch and ran it through his dripping hair. He coughed once, ashy, into the fleece before lowering from his face and making eye contact with Mob, who sat in his normal spot on the couch and watched the television.

“Oh, I don’t know either,” Mob answered. His eyes flickered between Reigen and the television. Speckles of rain pelted the glass door from the outside. “Do you always smoke outside in the rain?”

“Yes,” Reigen lied, and he collapsed next to Mob on the couch. He normally smoked inside, wherever he settled in for the day, which seemed apparent enough by the half-dozen scattered ashtrays throughout Reigen’s apartment. He smoked outside now, out of consideration for the air Mob breathed. He figured it was best to not let Mob know. “Kind of a shame, with the rain I mean. I thought we’d maybe go somewhere today.”

“Again?” Mob asked, a hint of anxiety in his voice. He turned fully to Reigen, ignoring the television, dark eyes wide. He wore sweatpants and a red t-shirt, and his braid had unraveled just a bit in his sleep, only enough for a few loose strands to frame his face and a few others to fall between his eyes.

“You don’t only go outside once, Mob.”

A laugh track echoed over them, tinny and distant from the television speakers. A soft cascade of rain still tapped the windows. Reigen glanced to Mob, and found Mob had looked away, staring at the floor now. He followed Mob’s eyes to a dark amorphous stain ground into the carpet fibers. Reigen investigated it with surprise. He hadn’t ever noticed that stain, though now when he surveyed the whole expanse of carpet, he found other spots of discoloration—ashy residue or spilled foods, drinks.

“What um…What was your Shishou’s house like, Mob?” Reigen asked. He threaded his arms over the back of the couch, kicked his feet up onto the coffee table where they skimmed the edge of an ashtray.

“It was okay,” Mob answered, and Reigen’s chest tightened some. It was a guarded answer. “It was darker than here. And it was usually cold. And a lot dirtier. Especially when it rained like this. The ceilings dripped when it rained. I like it here a lot more, where it’s clean.”

Reigen coughed once, throat still itching from the cigarettes he burned through. He scanned the length of the apartment, and it set his teeth on edge. He knew it wasn’t just his throat, or his clothes—the whole apartment smelled overwhelmingly of smoke—acrid, sharp, and nostril-curling. He knew it mingled with some kind of smell more pungent, one that he’d long since turned nose-blind to—the subtle rot of broth and egg left to dry at the bottom of ramen bowls, the stale yeasty smell of open beer cans, the fridge whose interior had turned sour with food left forgotten in its back, the pungency of upholstery and rugs never washed.

Reigen had made an effort the first few nights to clear away the bowls and cans and wrappers left about, but he’d done nothing about the things which had dug their roots into the structure of the space. Reigen stood now, eyes scouting out the things in piles, which had grown slowly through the years, unattended, like stalagmites. He eyed the bags of empty cans and tins, the stains along the coffee table and the magazines, ashtrays, random remotes which had become like a mold on its surface, sprouting there naturally, spurred by apathy. He noted the stains and cigarette burns in the carpet, the gray taint to its fibers, the fingerprints in the glass windows and the oily stains of the walls that Reigen grabbed unthinkingly in the mornings for balance when putting on his shoes.

Reigen stood, and he did so with a rigid sort of intensity that immediately caught Mob’s eye. “Well…I agree with you there, on that one. I like things a lot more too when they’re clean. So why don’t I ever do that?”

Reigen moved into the kitchen and rifled through the cabinets, finding a box of 50 garbage bags which he pulled out in whole. He dug deeper through the cabinet beneath the sink, pushing past cleaning bottles whose spigots had crusted after years—or perhaps close to a decade—of disuse. He snagged a few at random, and from the very back found a plastic-wrap package of eight sponges which he retrieved as well.

Reigen glanced up. Mob stood beside him, bare-footed, staring somewhat quizzically at the parade of dusty cleaning equipment that Reigen pulled from beneath the sink.

“It’s a good rainy day activity, yeah?” Reigen asked. He pulled a single black garbage bag from the roll, tore it at its perforation, wind-socked it open, and handed it to Mob. “Wanna help?”

“What are we doing?”

“We’re cleaning.”

“Oh,” Mob answered. “What do I do with the bag?”

“Throw stuff away in it. Trash. Whatever’s messy and should be tossed.”

“Oh it’s a garbage bag,” Mob said. “I don’t usually see it outside of the garbage bin like this.”

“How’d you get rid of trash?”

“Shishou did that.”

“Yeah well I’m sick of Shishou. Today I’m doing that. When that thing gets full bring it to me and I’ll tie it up and bring it out to the dumpster. In the pouring rain. Because I’m great.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No no no. I was the one complaining about not getting to do fun outdoor activities today. It’s up to me to eat the bitter irony of my words. No go ahead and get cleaning.”

Mob nodded. Reigen crouched to tear loose his own bag. He set his eyes first to the trash bin one cabinet over. He jammed it into the black bag, then rose to peruse the upper-level cabinets stocked with cooking staples scarcely-touched. Reigen tossed crusted-over sauce bottles, uncapped honey, dressings which had expired five or seven years back. He shuffled to the pantry. Moldy bread was trashed, stale cookies turned mushy after years of summer humidity, a few rotten onions in a basket and the single gooey corpse of an apple in the way back. Approximately seven more condiment bottles followed.

Reigen hauled the trash bag to the fridge, whose door he threw open like a melee challenger throwing open the arena door—with purpose, and confidence. He pulled bottles and containers and bags out by the armful, depositing them behind him until they populated the counter and kitchen table in random wayward herds: the huddle of open butter containers, the gathering of juice-like cartons, the once-again overwhelming populace of condiments and sauces.

Reigen targeted the vegetable drawer next, which he almost never opened these days. He’d avoided it ever since he noticed the fetid standing liquid that had coagulated along the bottom. In the back of his mind he’d always planned to clean it, assuming that one day, at one particular moment, he’d become possessed with the drive to do so. It was momentous, almost, to realize that day had come now.

Reigen hauled the drawer off of its track, yanking and jostling until it unhitched and separated from the body of the fridge. Reigen teetered backwards, grabbing the trash bag and molding its open lip to the edge of the vegetable crisper. Once secure, Reigen upturned the drawer, breath held, hearing the thunk of produce bags of long-forgotten vegetables hit the bottom of the trashy pit.

He flipped the drawer right-side up, and found a few sticky blackened produce bags still molded to the bottom, rotted seamlessly into the sludge beneath. Reigen’s brow furrowed. He shut the fridge door, drawer left on the tiling, and rose to grab the roll of paper towels from beside the sink.

Reigen paused on the way, doubled back, grabbed his phone from the kitchen table, and opened his music app. He owned only 15 songs, all illegally downloaded, and scarcely listened to. He set the app to shuffle, and hit play.

A cheesy boppy 80s tune pulsed through the grainy speakers. It was some song Reigen had heard over the speakers in a department store, and he’d spent weeks attempting to remember enough of the lyrics to google it. It had come on once, by chance, through his car radio one day, and Reigen had nearly swerved into a tree.

Reigen caught Mob’s curious eye from across the space. Mob had busied himself culling the trash from the living room. His eyes shifted between Reigen and the phone, unsure. Reigen started bouncing his head along to the music, a light smile on his lips. Mob did not nod along, but his shoulders eased, and he hoisted his trash bag over his shoulder as he moved to the tv. Mob set it down and crouched to investigate the mess of random piled items near the tv.

“There’s a lot of magazines here. Are they garbage?” Mob asked over the music.

Reigen was hunched over the vegetable drawer, investigating. “Sounds like garbage to me.”

“Do you want to check?”

“Considering I don’t even know what magazines are IN that pile, they’ve probably gotta be garbage.” Reigen raised his head, thinking. “Wait, those should probably be recycled. Um, just stick to garbage-garbage for now Mob.”

“Okay…” Mob answered, tone uncertain, and he fell silent again beneath the music.

Reigen ripped a paper towel off the roll and readied himself for the vegetable drawer.

It took half the roll and three more songs before Reigen accepted that he needed something stronger if he was actually going to turn this drawer back to functional. The paper towels ripped first when Reigen tried to scrub the grime to its root. He got up and rummaged through three more cabinets before finding a dish towel to sacrifice, which he wet, and wrung, and doused with dish soap, and set to work cutting through the standing liquid entirely. The soiled paper towels filled up his bag, stained somewhat orange with citrus blast. By the end, once the drawer was clean, Reigen decided to trash the dish towel too.

Reigen rose, pleased with himself. Something about the clear plastic visible at the bottom of the drawer filled him with a sense of pride. He stretched, back cracking, and washed his hands in the sink, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the fridge, envisioning what next to tackle. He grabbed a sponge, and a bottle of Windex, before stopping and second-guessing if Windex was safe for fridge shelves that held food. To be safe, Reigen picked the dish soap back up, and wet the sponge, and went back to scrub the fridge shelves.

His fingertips chilled once he got to work, lit by a light just as citrusy-orange as his dish soap. The motor in the back of the fridge hummed in short tinny bursts, pleading against the fridge door which Reigen kept open, and Reigen considered for a moment unplugging the whole fridge so as not to burn the motor out. He didn’t know where the plug was, so he resolved to scrub quickly. He only smashed his head once while leaning deep into the recesses of the fridge, precariously off-balance with spotty vision as he kept his breath held. The smash dislodged a shelf, and Reigen released his held breath to hiss out a curse. He pulled his head out, shut the fridge door, and re-evaluated the situation.

Maybe he should just unplug it.

A small clack and huff sounded from the living room, followed by a fit of loud, wet, violent coughing. Reigen’s head snapped to the side. Mob was by the couch, surrounded by 5 herded ashtrays, bent at the waist and coughing as a cloud of ash settled around him.

“Mob?” Reigen asked. He forgot the fridge, muscled his way around the kicked-out kitchen chair and pulled himself over the couch to reach Mob. He took the boy by the shoulders and steadied him. “Mob are you okay?”

Mob continued to cough, head bobbing up and down as he nodded. He held his hands to his mouth, tinted with ash, and when he finally opened his eyes they were red. Mob held his breath, suppressing another cough, and nodded once more.

Reigen glanced to the ashtrays Mob had gathered. Three were still filled with cigarette butts and soot. Two were clear. A ring of ash had settled around the table, along Mob’s shirt, and around the rim of Mob’s trash bag.

“Jesus uh… I’m sorry kid. Look go sit down for a bit. I’ll do the cleaning okay?” Reigen remembered just then that, wherever Mob had come from, it was somewhere far worse than this, and that the air Mob breathed there, the things he’d inhaled, may have already harmed his lungs. He didn’t need to be handling Reigen’s own filthy ashtrays.

Mob squinted, and then shut his eyes again. He shook his head.

“Mob, it’s not your mess anyway and you probably shouldn’t be handling dirty moldy ashy stuff anyway so um, just sit okay? I’ve got this.”

Mob shook his head harder. He coughed just once more and pushed Reigen’s hand off. “I’m okay. I dumped the ash in wrong. I messed up but I’ll do it right next time.”

Reigen’s eyes trailed over Mob now, fully taking in the boy’s condition. His thoughts weren’t helpful, but he said them anyway.

“You look like you got attacked by a Dust Buster.”

Mob blinked, his eyelashes dusted in ash, face tinted a chalky gray. He didn’t seem to follow. Reigen had to suppress a small chuckle in his throat.

“It’s not that bad, Reigen. I’m used to the smell, actually, I remember now. I kind of like it. It smells like home.”

The humor left Reigen’s face. He glanced behind him, eyes to the couch, and shuffled over to lower himself onto it. He placed his hands on his knees.

“Which…home?”

“Home-home. …Not Shishou’s house. I remember um…my dad smoked. Your house smells like his office used to smell… Me and Ri--…my little brother weren’t allowed in there, but I could always smell it.”

Reigen’s fingers tensed along his knee. In the background, the music had stopped, its playlist exhausted. “…And what was that home like?”

“…Nice.”

Reigen scooted to the side. He patted the spot he left open, where Mob usually sat, and Mob took it. Reigen leaned over and brushed some of the soot from the front of Mob’s shirt.

“I’ll do laundry later. Remind me to ask you to give me that shirt when I do…” Reigen glanced to the television, some old grainy sitcom that was half-way over. He reached for the remote and shut it off. Rain still pelted the windows, a steady beating metronome that filled the silence.

“My dad used to say that people who never smoked were missing out. I never understood it. Why do you smoke?”

“Same reason as just about everything else I do—I was a shitty kid and it annoyed my mom. I think I uh…hmmm the memories are a little vague but I think I picked it up start of high school? End of middle school? Must’ve been 13 or 14. Some older kids smoked and I liked hanging out with them and then they bought some packs for me and…I thought I was cool, I guess? It’s not cool. It’s garbage Mob don’t ever start.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Mob answered. He straightened a little. “Before I left home, I thought maybe I’d have to learn to like smoking. My dad…I don’t remember exactly…but he made it sound like I’d have to start.”

Reigen leaned forward. He slid his hands off his knees, forward until his elbows rested on his knees instead, and he interlocked his fingers, head bowed just slightly.

“How old were you when you left home, Mob?”

“Ten.”

“How old was your brother?”

“Nine.”

“And you don’t know how many years you were with your Shishou?”

“I don’t…” Mob straightened a bit, jaw set. “I wonder how old he is now… My little brother, he’s still nine when I think about him. I’m not ten though… There were a couple winters, at least, at Shishou’s house, so maybe, a couple years... That’s when it would get cold so I remember them. A couple years… …How old is my little brother?”

Reigen stood. He rounded the couch, retrieved the phone from the table, an outlier among the hoards of bottles and containers, sauces, eggs, milk… Reigen dismissed the dead music app, and flipped to the calendar one instead. He locked eyes with Mob, who appeared as only a small dark shadow on the couch, framed by the pale dilute light of the glass door behind him, sloshing wet with rain. Reigen rounded the couch, and sat back down beside Mob. The cushion indented beneath him. He handed the phone to Mob.

“Here, this is today’s date.”

Mob stared, and he stared longer, brow furrowing in concentration. His eyes flickered over the screen, the whites of his eyes lit a pale blue by the phone light. Reigen watched Mob raise his fingers slowly, one at a time, mouthing numbers. Thunder rolled and crackled outside, like a dense and muted noise along with the whisper of rain that wrapped them, held them suspended in a world where only the two of them seemed to exist.

Mob’s eyebrows arched, and his eyes widened, until they glistened, rimmed with tears.

“Mob…?”

“He’s 13, Reigen. He’s 13 now…”

It was something Reigen almost couldn’t process—the existence of Mob’s family, the existence of something outside that room, and outside of Mob.

“…Four years then…?” Reigen asked. “Four years you were with this Shishou?”

“You said you started smoking when you were 13. What if R—What if he….?” Mob handed the phone back, and he wiped at his eyes with the rim of an ashy sleeve. “What if he started smoking and I don’t know? I can’t ever know. I can’t ever know if he’s okay. Not while I’m like this.”

Reigen stared at the rug, at the dark ashy stain still ground into the fibers. Still filthy, untouched, unattended to. It had been too optimistic to think about cleaning everything today. It would take longer than that, longer to scrub clean what had been tainted filthy by years of inattention.

“Are you 14 now, Mob?”

“Yes…” Mob paused, then shook his head. “It doesn’t feel right. I can’t be 14. …He can’t be 13. …That’s too old. He’s still nine in my head, why…? I don’t know what’s happened to him in four years… I don’t know if he’s okay. I don’t… I don’t even know if he’s okay…”

Reigen coughed, cleared his throat. He pulled himself higher, so that his hands rested in his lap. He watched Mob from the corner of his eye, and wondered if it was right to reach out to comfort him.

“He’s okay, Mob, I think. I think your little brother is okay, personally, that’s my opinion…” Reigen shuffled his feet, pulling them closer to the couch. “I kinda remember being 13… I liked angry music, and I thought shaving half my head would be a cool idea even though I never did it, and I wanted a piercing in my nose to go with it. And I thought school was dumb and my mom was lame but…I think that was normal 13 year old stuff. I was pretty normal. I bet R--… your brother, if you won’t tell me his name—I’ll bet your brother is growing up normal too.”

“…You think he’d shave half his head?”

Reigen suppressed a snort. He looked around, eyes falling aimlessly throughout the apartment. “I dunno. Do you think he’s the sort of person who’d shave his head?”

“…I don’t think so. Um, I hope not. I hope he doesn’t smoke, either…” Mob trailed off. He set his right hand against the couch arm and dug his fingers into the upholstery. “I hope he hasn’t gotten his powers. I hope he doesn’t have a barrier like this… Shishou said it wouldn’t happen to him but, I’m worried. I’m worried if he smokes. I’m worried if he has powers and doesn’t know this will happen. I’m worried if he’s okay… I wish I could tell him. I wish I could tell him to be safe.”

Reigen shifted, positioning himself half off the couch to face Mob. He set a hand on Mob’s shoulder and tilted Mob just slightly.

“Mob, if you tell me who your family is, I can go and check. I can find out if your brother is okay.”

Mob’s jaw set. The offer seemed to pain him, and he pulled back just enough for Reigen’s hand to slip off his shoulder. “No, not until my barrier is gone… I can’t hurt them, Reigen.”

“…I think you’re hurting them like this, Mob. Keeping yourself away from them, that’s gotta hurt them.”

Mob stared on at Reigen, eyes wide and jaw slack as though he’d been struck. Tears beaded in his eyes, and he shook his head, and leaned away. “…You still don’t understand. I can’t. I can’t. I didn’t want to ever hurt them but it needs to be like this Shishou told me! I’ve seen the barrier kill things I can’t hurt them Reigen I can’t hurt them. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Reigen moved closer, heart in his stomach, arm hovering around Mob aimlessly. Slowly, he settled it around Mob’s shoulder, and pulled Mob closer, so they sat side-by-side, Mob’s form small and bent and huddled under Reigen’s outstretched arm.

The rain poured. Reigen traced its streaks along the window.

“Sorry, Mob. I misspoke. I definitely misspoke. You’re hurting worse than they are, I forgot about that for a moment. You’re hurting the worst, but you’re fine right now, so I’m sure they’re fine by just…by logic. And also I’m sure your brother is fine too, just living life normally, like all his friends I bet. And then one day you’re going to conquer your barrier, right Mob?” Reigen shifted his eyes to Mob, and jostled Mob’s shoulder. “Right?”

“…Yeah,” Mob conceded. His hands curled into fists in his lap. “Yeah… Yes.”

“That’s right. And what I’m getting at is your family will be right there waiting for you the day that happens, okay? They’ll be smiling too, I bet, once you come home. They’re just waiting for you now, and they can wait a little while longer to smile, yeah? They’ve got plenty going on with their lives right now I bet. 13 year olds get a lot of homework. I bet your brother is busy. There’s no rush, Mob. There’s no pressure. I’ll teach you a way that gets rid of that barrier for real, and when that happens you’ll go home, and then you can stop worrying all together.”

Mob remained small beside Reigen, ashy-smelling, braid swept to the side. He glanced up once at Reigen. The tears were gone. His eyes were brighter.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do. I know so.”

Reigen watched another lightning strike arc across the sky. For the moment, he was left with the curious thought of wondering what he’d do on that day that Mob left this place forever.

(Chapter 21)

[oldvic-abondance]

Dress Circle Left

Monday 25th November 2019: 6.10pm - 10.05pm (4 hours)

This was my first official shift as an usher for the festive season at The Old Vic, which officially began with the opening of A Christmas Carol on Saturday 23rd, and is due to end on January 18th.

I surprised myself by being on time today and even called my brother as soon as I got out of Waterloo station to tell him I had 5 minutes to spare! In that time, I took myself up to the top floor of the theatre to hang up my hat and coat and put down my bag. I probably reapplied my lip gloss too before finding myself down by the bar for the briefing.

Tonight’s Duty Manager was Wabriya which made me so happy because I’ve got proper fond memories of working with her when I done the Front Line work experience programme around this time last year. She was so sensitive and proper took time to talk to me about my anxiety and the health troubles I was going through at the time. I can only be grateful I made it outta them dark times. They all started coming back to me though while I watched the beginning of the play, but I’ll get to that...

So Danny was present in the briefing, I ended up sat in the stool that she was planning to plonk herself on but she let me cotch there, which I done until after Wabriya’s come up the stairs now and I seen people queuing up to go sign themselves in and grab their copy of the briefing sheet with the seating plan on the back of it and that. I was literally just following suit, not really knowing or remembering exactly how that was meant to work so I just watched what the people in front of me was doing and picked it up lol.

Found my name on the register, wrote my signature next to it as well as the time that I arrived at the theatre, then picked up a briefing sheet and found my name next to the position I’d be posted in tonight: Dress Circle. At first, I was bare confused cah I thought everybody got their own unique briefing sheet with details about their position and that, but actually, it’s a general one with everybody’s roles available for everybody to see. The thing that’s unique to each position is the evacuation card, with how to follow the procedure correctly for example in the case of a fire.

This was my first proper palava of the night you know. I couldn’t find no card for the Dress Circle Left position, so I just picked up the one for Stalls Left lol but Delara - who musta been behind me in the line to sign in - said out loud how she can’t see stalls left, so I told her oh is it this one then, tryna clarify if that was the same position as my ting, but it’s not. So I gave this evac card to its rightful owner and decided to take myself off to Danny and Wabriya to let them know I can’t find the card for my position and try figure out what to do from there.

I was already nervous so this lil blip had me feeling a bit like a clown as if it was my mistake, but they let me know that actually, they hadn’t got round to printing off alla them for all the positions yet, so once I’ve gone into the theatre the Supervisor or someone will come round with what I need, so I cooled off and just stood to Wabriya’s right as she then soon after called out for everybody’s attention so we could get started for tonight’s briefing. It went real silent in the room and even Wabriya was took aback becah she’s used to people still chatting over her but the room was full of newbies like me! New beginnings for a bunch of us then.

Wabriya was so lovely though, she literally started off her whole ting wid a lickle message that aint no question silly so please ask away basically and I really respect and appreciate that, especially since she keeps reiterating it, as well as noticing and encouraging it. That’s how I know I’m in a safe environment where I can adjust and adapt to a new work culture without feeling like a burden on anybody’s shoulders.

Management has absolutely interweaved this understanding into the delegation of positions for all the ushers by pairing up a rookie wid a veteran, as I experienced during my shadow shift on November 8th. Can’t remember the girl’s name who I was with but she were real lovely. We was right up at the front of the stalls on the penultimate night of the previous play Lungs, which I proper remember cah that Doctor Who actor who come after David Tennant was all up on the stage before incoming, practicing his breathing techniques and that with his partner performer.

Anyways, my buddy tonight was Rebecca. I knew her face cah when Wabriya was announcing the whole buddy system on each level, she said my name and Rebecca’s so I just followed her line of sight to who was nodding in response to what she was saying about the Dress Circle, then once the briefing ting was done I went up to her and said sutten like oh are you Rebecca, I’m Abondance dadadada and we ended up going downstairs to get ‘our stuff’ so I’m all asking what’s that, like radios and stuff? And she’s like yeah, and I’m telling her I’m nervous and she’s like why and we just get talking and she’s bare reassuring and that so I don’t even feel no type of way like, she’s real lovely to get on with.

We’ve got our radios, programmes and floats now - Rebecca accidentally told Louis she’s DC Left when she was actually Right, which confused him so we just sorted it out when we got to our level, and she really stuck by me to make sure I had all my things in order. She was communicating with the DM and that on the radio when stuff was going wrong for me like my radio not making no noise through the earpiece and my mic not working at all and the earpiece just resisting going around my ear at all! For a few moments I actually experienced a piece of insecurity about the size of my ears but I literally stopped myself from whining about having ‘monkey ears’ before the words could come outta my mouth cah I don’t ramp wid speaking no evil uno... Madting.

This palava was deffo getting to me but whatever, I was just getting a bit flustered because I didn’t know what to expect and there was bare action on the radiowaves and patrons started coming in to take their seats but Rebecca and Louis’ all tellin em we aint open for dat yet after he’s come round with my evac card and eventually had to shoot off again. Mince pie usher’s about wid his uniform on aswell, his name was Tom, bless him. We had a lickle convo before he buggered off to Dress Circle right after incoming’s begun.

I’m more confident now cah it’s been explained to me that I’m only in DCL for the first act of the play, then I’ve familiarised myself with the seating plan in my section; made sense of the fact that an usher’s gonna come during the interval to sell ice creams, alongside me tryna flog the programmes and playscripts then relieve me of my duty there; then I’ll take her float that’s separate to mine and return the ice creams to the freezer on the top floor; go cash up in the foyer/office then basically linger round there; have a break before the show’s over; then do the charity bucket collection ting before we debriefed and it’s hometime now.

Gave a few patrons plastic cups to replace their wine or water glasses and just left them under my seat - didn’t really get no time to take them to the bar but Rebecca advised me to jus leave dem dere anyway

Left the glove Louis gave me atop of the bucket containing the orange hi-vis for evac, with the plastic bag for collecting rubbish at the end of the show - but this was for whoever was relieving me init so I never had to bother about using that tonight

A lady come up to me to say her seat number didn’t exist in the Atkins box so I’m all radioing Rebecca to come help me and Wabriya’s ended up telling Helena I think her name is to come through and pattern the situation, borrowing my briefing sheet to do so

She chucked me a satsuma dat had fallen on da floor after dat and I ate it after the play began, jus plonking da peel in one of dem wine glasses lol

Sold 3 programmes, no playscripts - my first customer during incoming was like you’re so accommodating when I told her I got change for her £20 note, bless her

This guy called me over to him during the play just to ask if he could hear my radio. I didn’t understand it at first cah I thought he was a senior staff member I didn’t know or something but he was just being rude about a noise that weren’t even coming from my radio - but when it had gone off a bit earlier he did actually shush me... Told Rebecca and she’s like you’ll get a lotta rude people, jus brush dem off kmt

Misdirected a don and his daughter to the toilets when he asked me where they was lol I literally just blagged it saying they’re out there on the bar, then realised I was wrong for that cos I didn’t actually know so I just radioed to Rebecca to ask where they are after waiting a minute cah I could see her on the other side of the DC actually talking to a patron so pounced onto my mic soon as I seen she been freed up. She told me right at the top or the bottom of the staircase, so that’s what I told every other patron then I apologised to my man when he come back and he was like it’s alright, bless him. I felt even badder cah him and his bredrin was the only other black people in that part of the theatre until I seen a mix race family come in much closer to the show starting, ahh.

Cashing up ran over by a long time, making me miss my break. By the way Wabriya saw me copying Delara doing this just out in the open in the foyer and advised that for our own safety this should be done either at the very top floor or in the office, so there’s less risk of getting the money stolen off us cah tru say it ain’t in nobody’s job description to be defending us should sutten like dat occur lol. I remember dat golden rule from Papa John’s to be honest so it was a good reminder if I’m real.

After I’m done now I’ve asked Louis and Wabriya if I’ve still got enough time to grab a complimentary cuppa from Penny Bar downstairs and W’s like what time’s your break I tell her 9pm these times it’s coming close to 20 past by now and she’s like omg, paused from eating her din dins in her tuppaware which smell nice up by the way but it felt invasive to ask her what she were eating so I llowed it, she’s paused like omg take a break long as there’s someone in the foyer and Louis’ let her know like yeah we proper ran over time widdit so I’m like cool, go down grab a tea wid oat milk and dash about 5 demerara cubes in dat ting and sit down playing snake on my phone for like 5 minutes before it’s 9.30pm now and I gotta reach back, but not after checking out the toilet situation...

Wabriya spoke on it during the briefing actually. It’s an accessibility point so the language the institution uses around it is actually incredibly important. It’s gotta be descriptive not prescriptive, aka the cubicle/urinal loos instead of ladies/gents bathrooms, which are also different to a gender neutral toilet which is what it is becah it’s self-contained wid a sink and dat all inside da doors, so technically the access toilet for people say with wheelchairs is also gender neutral but yeah... So incredible to know there’s buildings taking such contemporary issues into account. Things have changed so much since I was here last year. I remember all the issues with the queues for the ladies due to a shortage of cubicles, now look.

Anyways I’m back in the foyer now and there’s a bitta confusion about who’s doing the charity collection and how that works after Wabriya’s let me know it’s illegal to shake the buckets as that’s considered begging. I was like rah and I let Delara take the buckets and took this opportunity to have a young catch up with my jigga Bee the security guard who I got talking to on my shadow shift, and she’s introduced me to David, whose face is deffo familiar from last year. He seems lovely. Lives in Enfield as well but’s a Harlesden bwoy originally and gots peoples in Kennington too. He likes it dere but da feds make him parro, I told him yeah they’re too rude round dere. He don’t like Danny at allll and’s telling me how the winter makes his mood so low, he proper don’t like dis place, don’t like talking to no one, nun ah dat. Made me so sad to hear still. He done a late shift, til 1.30am. I also met Emmanuel who’s currently rehearsing for The Red Envelope at Oxford House next month and I told him about Sister Souljah’s book The Coldest Winter Ever since we was talking about the power of doing creative work with prisoners and our ambitions to do so basically.

Bee finished at midnight. Told me she lives in Bromley so when I asked if they gets her a cab home if she finishes late she goes this is London, people don’t care how or when you get home you best take care ah yourself. The days the building closes at 2.30am she can be getting home like 4/5 in the morning and she got work the next day, can you imagine. Less than ideal boy. Mama’s hustlin and lookin tun up while she does so. Mmm. Heard her sayin how her hair’s so short, woulda have her lookin like real security if she was to back off dis hair. 

She didn’t recognise me at first I told her it’s probably cah I changed my hair. I still had dem blonde braids last time she seen me. Today it’s my brown Kelly Rowland wig. I’m probably not switching it up until Christmas if I’m real. I’m not comfortable in it yet but I understand this hair situation is more a matter of practicality for the convenience due to this new work pattern and protection due to the current and approaching weather conditions, so the stunting’s gotta tek a backseat, zimme.

After the debrief, where it felt good to hear Wabriya reiterate it’s a good shout to be asking questions, never feel silly, and big up us newbies for actually using our buddies and that, she heard us on the radios and observed us I guess. That acknowledgement done the little girl in me wonders even though it weren’t direct, u get me. My friend Millie from my first shadow shift was positioned as a onstage usher and we spoke a lickle piece today but didn’t sit together or nothing even though we both got the 341 together northsides. I believe she got off around Green Lanes/St. Anne’s Road, but true say I was in and out of sleep a lot, probablu from about just after Aldwych all da way to Tottenham really. My hat was all slipping off my wig aswell lol.

Felt a bit awkward about how I was gonna avoid taking da tube when dere was a bunch of ushers going that way including Delara - believe she said I look like Jenny from the block tonight LOL. Made sure I said thank you driver when I jumped off one stop after NPK then buss the walk to the front door in sutten sweet like 13 minutes. I was basically talking to God and praying in gratitude for all dem moments I was awake from when I jumped on the bus and then I come home to find Tatiana Tarot’s card of the day is the 9 of Cups (and Ecliptic Spiritualist received him reversed...):

The 9 of Cups greets us with the promise of our desires coming into fruition. Here we see 9 cups sprouting emotional fulfillment, blessings, positivity and gifts. Life can soon feel like a dream when the 9 of Cups appears but we must still take into accord the hard work required to manifest such results. Although success and fulfillment is near, the work is never over but regardless, we will feel the rewards. For some, you might find your motivation & emotions are in alignment, there can be an overwhelming sense of confidence and faith in your path. Don’t get too comfortable however, people with this placement can easily lose sight of the prize, slipping away from the practice of daily gratitude and humility. In an instant everything can change, therefore you must be consistent in cultivating the best for yourself, without slipping. This doesn’t mean that you work incessantly without a break, it simply means, don’t get lazy and complacent. Arrogance is a downfall, maintain balance. Celebrate the small successes that lead to the major ones to come. This card also teaches us about our inner wealth. We often focus on the material, ignoring the abundance we carry within us. Meditate on the resources you already carry and how you can transmute this into physical prosperity for yourself and for others.