#on the bright side i found a fic ive been trying to reread for a while :]

[codecicle]

i CANNOT afford to be sick rn. AND YET.

[aidenzhous]

in all these moments. (ajay x mc)

pairing: ajay x f!mc (cas rhodes).

word count: 3.4k.

genre: fluff / teeny tiny sprinkle of angst / romance.

summary: five times ajay backs out, and one time he doesn’t.

author’s note: i was rereading hssca bc i have Nothing else 2 do and i was thinking !!! why not !!!!!!! do a 5+1 !!! bc im super weak for those !!! anyways here it is it’s not Totally loyal 2 the chapters bc ~creative license~ but i Do hope u all enjoy it anyways for my first fic here owo !!!! 

tag list: send me an ask or message me if you want to be added !!

i. auditions.

Ajay has always believed freshmen were all the same—too curious, too reckless—just too much everything. The world was their oyster, and they hadn’t learned the difference between questions to ask and questions to rein in.

That was what Ajay believed, until Cas.

She’s all cheerful eyes and open friendliness when she introduces herself, stumbling on her shoelace before righting herself with an embarrassed laugh. She doesn’t even look bothered after he’d brushed her hand aside and easily repeated his speech of ambitious projects and director responsibilities, smiling apologetically as she takes a half-step back.

“My bad,” she says. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Thank you. But you’re still bothering me, Cas.”

He can’t help but notice her eyes carry that wide-eyed freshman wonder, intertwined with something that feels like sunshine and starlight and something he can’t quite name. Freshman optimism, maybe. He glances back to his scripts just as Danielle slides into the conversation like she had been there all along.

“Relax, Ajay.” Danielle barks a laugh. “She’s just trying to introduce herself.”

“Danielle, please.” He runs a hand through his hair and tugs the script closer, mindful of his pen. He levels her with a look, exasperation and exhaustion in one. “I can forgive interruptions from a freshman, but you of all people should know better.”

She shrugs, like he has a point but she stands too much on her own to care. “How about this?” Danielle says. “Cas can help me set up the stage, and you can take a chill pill.”

Ajay rolls his eyes and waves a dismissive hand. “Lovely idea,” he says after a moment.

Danielle turns on her heel and motions for Cas to follow, leading her backstage. Against Ajay’s better judgement, he lets himself get distracted, gives himself an interlude between work to watch as they leave. His eyes linger on Cas’s profile, watches as she says something to Danielle before breaking out into a laugh that he can clearly hear across the room. It sounds like a songbird at dawn.

He shakes his head before picking up his pen, twirling it between his fingers. She’s new, he reasons. She’s an undiscovered piece in the puzzle that Ajay hasn’t quite figured out yet, and he’s only distracted because it’s natural. Logical, even.

He sneaks another glance to the stage.

ii. the party.

This is what he knows: Ajay has always been good at separating his work from his personal life. Theater stays theater—everyone is a co-star first and a friend second, and romance is totally, absolutely out of the question. Success comes when everyone can focus, and butterflies, longing glances and crushes had no place in a production—especially one as important as this.

He’s lining up his next shot at the pool table, eyes focused. Emma and Sydney are hovering on the opposite end, their conversation distant and muted as he tunes it out. He inhales once, ready to secure the point, until—

“Ajay, thank God!”

His hands grip the pool cue tighter by a fraction, the only giveaway that her voice had startled him. It takes all his willpower to look nonchalant, to look like he’s absorbed in a game he knows he’ll score easy wins at, but the difference between being and looking is in the eyes. He waits until Emma and Sydney flit over to Cas, waits until they strike up a conversation of their own before he dares to look in their direction for a brief moment. He spots the faded blue of her jacket and the bright smile he’s gotten accustomed to seeing.

Ajay successfully sinks two solids into a pocket. He straightens up and pretends like he’s seeing Cas for the first time.

“Oh, hey Cas,” he says. She grins at the greeting, throwing a little wave his way.

“Took you long enough to notice I was here! I thought I would’ve had to start the preparations for my eightieth birthday if you didn’t turn around in the next minute.” She points to the pool table. “I didn’t know you were practically a master at pool.”

Ajay shrugs before turning back towards the game. “You only met me this Monday,” he says. “Besides, it’s not like pool is a particularly useful skill.”

“Maybe so,” Cas says, “but it makes for some impromptu bets!.”

Ajay raises an eyebrow at her, feeling the smile before he could stop it. He shakes his head and lets her have a short laugh, before he calls a pocket and easily knocks the 8-ball in.

“I win,” he says. He sees Emma’s shoulders slump in defeat as she sighs.

“Can I play against you?” Cas asks. “I have a good feeling I can snatch that pool-master title from you, easy peasy.”

He sets the pool cue aside, glancing her way. She’s all determined energy, coiled up into a tiny frame. “As much as I’d love to show you up, a bunch of jocks already called the next game.” He turns to her with a grin. “Find me later if you still want to play.”

*

She does find him later, when he’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a pizza in hand and a glass of cola in the other.

“Found you,” she chirps. “I believe you owe me a game of pool.”

“Can I at least finish my pizza first?”

“Nope! You can just eat on the way.”

*

Ajay figures out two things that night.

One: it is possible, even though he’d sworn up and down it wasn’t, that there was someone who was better than him at pool. He doesn’t know how to feel knowing that someone was a sprightly freshman with a knack for pulling out Ajay’s softer side.

Two: Cas’s hands are cold but soft. She also has victory dances, and Ajay thinks the cutest one is the one where she waves her body like she’s a piece of seaweed.

iii. the theater.

A quick glance to the clock tells him it’s nearing two am, and he’s been watching Cas nod off for the past twenty minutes, alternating between tipping over from sleepiness and jolting awake. He feels bad, because neither of them are in the beds they should be and it’s not like the theater comes with backup beds for events like this. A theater wasn’t built for overnight stays.

“Cas,” he murmurs, tapping her shoulder. She makes a little snuffling noise, nose wrinkling as she blinks her eyes open. “You should sleep on the seats instead of here.”

“‘M okay,” she says, shaking her head. “Not sleepy.”

“You’ve been falling asleep for the past twenty minutes.”

Her next words come in a drawl, pulled by a tired lull. “No,” she says. “No sleep. Don’t know sleep.”

Ajay stifles a laugh. He ducks so her arm goes around his shoulder, and gently, he pulls her up. She goes along like a doll, which is to say, she doesn’t go along at all. “C’mon,” he says, though it’s mostly to himself. “The stage isn’t the best place to sleep.”

“Stage is good,” she murmurs, but she stumbles alongside him. “Detective C no lie.”

He doesn’t justify her with a response. She wouldn’t be able to snipe back, anyways, not with how tired she was. Instead, he shakes his head fondly as he lowers her onto one of the seats. She takes to it immediately, curling up on her side. After a moment’s hesitation, Ajay shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over her, patting it down. He hopes it’ll keep some of the chill away.

He takes the floor, sprawling against carpeted hardwood floor. His back immediately twinges in pain, and using his arm as a pillow only increases comfort by a marginal amount. This wasn’t how he imagined spending his Friday night, but a glance to Cas mutes his rationality.

If anything, getting to spend time with Cas made up for all the wrongdoings.

Her hand is hanging over the edge of the chair, fingertips barely touching the floor, and he lets himself reach over, his own fingers falling just short of being able to touch hers. Maybe if they were in a different situation, he could hold her hand the way he wants to.

But he’s a director and she’s a cast member, and Ajay has always been a stickler for his own rules.

He pulls his hand back, drops it onto his stomach and turns so he doesn’t have to look at Cas. She’s always been optimism personified, a burst of sunlight through cloudy skies.

Ajay’s just awful at not chasing the sun.

iv. homecoming dance.

Homecoming was many things. Crowded, for one, with memories from a time he’d rather forget. There’s a reason he had no plans on showing up, but all it takes is Cas and one well placed set of puppy-dog eyes and he crumbles like a demigod beneath the skies.

They’re dancing, slowly and surely. She’s clumsy at first, but she learns rhythm and steps quicker than he had anticipated, stepping where appropriate with only occasional glances to their shoes. Ajay can’t help but think of the what-ifs again.

“What’s that move?” She suddenly asks as the song nears its end. “The one they do at the end of songs.”

Ajay knows exactly what move she’s talking about, and it’s almost too easy to tighten his hold on her. “I got you,” he says as he spins her into a low dip. He smiles at the noise of surprise she makes, feels a little satisfied with himself when her grip tightens around him like she’s scared of falling. Her eyes are wide with alarm, but they carry a little bit of reckless joy too.

“A little warning would’ve been nice,” she says. She’s trying for annoyed, he can tell, but he’s starting to learn it’s never been in her nature to be annoyed at anyone. It only takes a moment before she bursts with a dazzling grin, another that Ajay files away in ‘expressions I’d like to see again’.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ajay replies as he pulls her up. She does a little twirl under his arm and he lets himself hold her hand for a moment longer. The grooves and planes of her hand feel familiar under his; soft, sure, right. But he pulls away, doesn’t let himself think about that in too much detail because he’s not supposed to and puts a small distance between them that feels like miles. He doesn’t miss the way she deflates a little, doesn’t miss the way disappointment sits on her shoulders.

He figures there’s no way someone like her—all starlight, moonlight, sunlight—would like someone like him.

v. accusations.

Ajay looks over when he hears the soft thud of a lunch tray. Cas is sitting across Rory, her expression upset as she pleads with her to talk. It’s courtesy, he tells himself, when he stands and tugs her sleeve, pulling her to the occupied end of the table. He knows, really, that he has no right to do that, especially after what he had accused Cas of.

“She hasn’t spoken since lunch started,” Ajay explains, and her face falls.

“Is it because of—”

“Of course it is!” Danielle snaps, and Cas jumps in her seat beside Ajay. His eyes immediately fall to his plate, fingers gripping his spoon tightly. He’s done enough damage on his own, and the production was relying on him and he can’t have a repeat— “Just get out of here already, you’ve made things bad enough.”

“Danielle!” Cas’s voice is sharp in reply, but it loses its impact as it breaks.

“What you did wasn’t cool,” Clint says. “Not to any of us.”

“You should find somewhere else to sit, because you’re not welcome here,” Natalie adds.

Ajay winces. He doesn’t have to look up to know what their faces look like; their words hurt alone. Quiet falls on the table and he can feel the weight of Cas’s eyes on him. He keeps his gaze low, pushes around his food until she stands.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll just go.”

He finally lifts his eyes when the squeak of her sneakers grow fainter, turning to watch as she shoulders open the door towards the courtyard. He’s suddenly lost his appetite, and pushes his tray away from him.

A moment later, Erin and Skye hurry up to the table carrying trays of their own.

“Where’s Cas?” Skye asks, and Ajay points to the courtyard.

“She got kicked off the table,” he replies, and Danielle’s glare switches its focus to him, turning icy. He doesn’t dignify it with a response.

Skye rolls her eyes and marches off towards the courtyard. Erin looks towards the table, eyebrows furrowed before she says, “I’m really disappointed you’d all believe Cas could be capable of something so cruel. She really thought you guys were her friends.” Her words sit uncomfortably on the group as she follows Skye, and Ajay’s eyes follow them, watching as they take a seat at Cas’s table.

He watches as Cas shivers against the wind, and he feels the inexplicable urge to put his jacket over her shoulders, like they were locked in the theater together again.

But they’re not.

They’re on two different sides of a serious argument and Ajay has monumentally screwed up his production and his friendships again. He stands up and clears his tray before disappearing to the theater, where no one else has to follow him except his own ghosts.

vi. cas.

Cas has successfully avoided Ajay for the duration of the cast party. She’s ducked into her kitchen, hid in the bathroom, shoved a handful of fries into her mouth and bolted for the living room as soon as Ajay had spotted her. It’s a never-ending game of hide and seek, and she doesn’t intend to lose.

It’s backed by pride, she knows that, and hurt too.

As the party winds down, she lurks near the front door. Ajay had disappeared at some point, and it’s easy to assume he’s just gone home. It’s a relief, she thinks. The game is over, and she can return to moping by herself. She doesn’t know how much longer she could’ve lasted trying to hide from him.

“Cas?” Ajay’s voice comes from behind her, and she throws her arms up in surprise.

“Woah, did not see you there,” Cas says, turning around to face him. “You’re still here. I thought you went home or—or something. I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Ajay raises an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, someone’s been hiding from me all night.”

“Gosh,” Cas replies, “who could that be?”

She doesn’t want to fall back into a rhythm with him. He makes it too easy. She pulls at a stray thread on her sweater before Ajay sighs.

“Can we talk, actually?”

“We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”

“I mean privately, without anyone else around.” Ajay runs a hand through his hair before he says, “just to my car?”

And Cas, well, she’s never been the greatest at saying no to Ajay.

*

“I wanted to apologize,” Ajay murmurs. They’re leaning against his car, and Cas occupies herself by staring at her shoes. “Back when everyone accused you—I should’ve stayed neutral, or at least been more thorough in making sure the facts checked out. I let you down, and I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what…” Cas pauses. She wants the right words, but she’s never been like Ajay—never has been eloquent or as level-headed as him. “Ajay, I don’t care about the fact-checking, or the staying neutral. I care that you said I could’ve been capable of doing something like that, I care that you said it was ‘logical’ and that it made sense to you. I care that in the heat of the moment, you decided that the cleverness you liked meant that I could’ve done it.” She sucks in a breath, hands rubbing her arms. “I care that my friend turned his back on me, and he did it so easily.”

Ajay doesn’t respond. Cas glances over in his direction to see him with his face buried in his hands.

“Ajay?” She prompts. “You okay?”

“No,” he says. His voice comes out all muffled. “I asked you out here to apologize—I was so confident I had it all right and that I knew what I was apologizing for but I still—” He cuts himself off, hands falling to his sides. “I still messed it up.”

“You can try again, now that you know what I was actually upset about.”

“Would you hear it out?”

Cas gives him a warm smile. “When have I ever said no?”

Ajay takes in a deep breath before he turns to face Cas. His expression is determined and apologetic all at once. “Cas,” he starts, “I’m sorry, genuinely. I hurt you not just as a director, but as a friend. I shouldn’t have been so quick to decide which version of the story I believed, and I should’ve had more faith in you as a person. You were right, after all, and I’m sorry it took me so long to build up the courage to properly apologize to you.”

“I accept your apology,” Cas says. “And I forgive you.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Ajay shakes his head, but the smile on his lips is warm and kind. Cas opens her mouth to say something before a cold gust of wind blows strongly, immediately bringing shivers from the both of them.

“How about we get into my car?” Ajay suggests. “I can turn on the heater.”

“I call shotgun!” Cas calls out, skipping around towards the passenger door.

*

“Sometimes I wonder where we would be if I didn’t audition for the play,” Cas says. She has her hands pressed up against the heater, fingers wiggling against the current of warm air. “Like, would we still be friends? Would we have gone through that huge theaterwide drama? Or would we just have been people with mutual friends?”

“Maybe we could’ve been something else,” Ajay replies. “That particular thought has crossed my mind a few times, even though it shouldn’t have, and I’ve probably rehearsed the next few words a hundred times.”

The words are so telling, and Cas pulls her hands away from the heater as she sits back against the seat. She glances over to him before her head tilts in a play of curiosity. “What words?”

“I don’t want to rush it, Cas,” Ajay says, but his eyes soften around the edges. “I just—don’t quite know how to say it.”

The smile Cas gives him is nothing short of encouraging, tinted with butterflies and longing glances. “Hey, take your time,” she says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ajay’s head thumps against the headrest. Cas snickers, before she schools her expression into something gentler. She watches as Ajay takes a deep breath, fingers drumming against the steering wheel before his eyes meet hers.

“I think you’re incredible, Cas,” Ajay says. “You’re incredible on stage, and offstage—every morning, I feel so lucky that I can say you’re important to me. I can’t imagine myself not caring about you.”

He pauses, before he says, “I like you, Cas. I like you a lot. Waiting for the show to end has been…” He trails off, letting the silence speak. “I liked working with you, and with everyone else. But I won’t lie and say that I haven’t been thinking of taking your hand every time an opportunity presented itself and asking if I could—” Ajay ducks his head, adjusting his glasses.

“Yeah?” Cas bites back a smile, eyes earnest as Ajay looks up with a smile of his own.

“Cas, can I kiss you?”

“That would be really nice.”

They share a laugh, a little break in the moment as they lean over the console. Cas zeroes in on the gentle touch of Ajay’s fingers on her hair, the feather-light affection when he tilts her chin up. It’s instinct when her eyes slide shut.

Their lips meet in a chaste, soft kiss—a brief touch that sends her heart racing. She feels her cheeks warm up intensely as Ajay pulls away, touching his forehead to hers.

“That was—wow,” she murmurs, and Ajay laughs, the sound soft as it suspends itself between them. “Your glasses are all fogged up now.”

“Small price to pay,” he replies.

She takes in Ajay, takes in all of him from the way his lips are tilted up in a smile to the expressions he reserves just for her to the way he’s always carried himself like he’s unshakeable. She sees him in all the ways that make her heart flutter, and all the ways he holds her steady.

“I like you a lot too, Ajay.”