#or here where cruz has to pull her hair out from under her collar

[thisiswhatshefelt]

For Olivia | Chapter Three

Author’s Note: We’re still in fluffy territory right now, but things pick up in the next part. I’m having so much fun writing this! Hey, look at me. Writing fluff. Who would have thought? Not me. Characters: Chef Coco Cruz & Black OC

Chapter Summary: Coco and Olivia officially meet for the first time. Previous Chapter: Two

Chapter Three On Park Sundays, Olivia’s always the first one to stir in the apartment. There’s an initial panic just as Shanice remembers what’s supposed to happen on this particular Sunday, but the feeling subsides to an undercurrent as she’s getting Olivia ready. Shanice takes her time in the closet, carefully considering her wardrobe this morning. She opts for a fitted tee and jeans instead of her usual hoodie and hat combo.

She catches her reflection in the mirror and slows her movements, suddenly finding this extra work is ridiculous for someone who may not even show. The anxiety begins to creep up again, slinking into the room.

What if she hates him? Shanice thinks. Or worse, what if she loves him and then he abandons her?

She doesn’t dwell on these thoughts for very long because Olivia is pulling her out the door soon after finishing breakfast. Shanice is still chewing a piece of toast when they get onto the highway.

They’re only at the playground for half an hour and Olivia’s disheveled clothing already looks like she’s halfway through finishing a decathlon. Shanice is watching Olivia go down the slide when she receives a text from Coco, signaling that he’s five minutes away. She beckons to Olivia, and she reluctantly trudges over.

“I don’t wanna leave yet,” Olivia begins to whine in protest.

“No, no, we’re not leaving,” Shanice shakes her head. “Remember I’ve been telling you that mommy’s friend from the other night might come to the park?”

Olivia shrugs, longingly gazing over at the rush of kids now heading to the wooden pirate ship. “The man that bringed the pizza?”

“He didn’t bring–” Shanice shakes the thought out of her head. “Yes, him. He’s coming over here to say hello.”

“How come?”

“Well, you know, he really likes the park, so when I told him we were going to be here, he asked to join us,” Shanice explains in logic that only makes sense to a child. “All you have to do is say hello and remember your manners. That’s it.”

Olivia waits impatiently, fidgeting back and forth on her feet. Shanice is thankful when she finally catches a glimpse of Coco rising from a car in the parking lot. She lifts Olivia and sets the child on her hip as Coco closes the distance between himself and the girls.

“Glad you made it,” Shanice greets him with a smile, and she’s genuinely relieved he’s kept this first promise. “Olivia, can you say hi to Johnny for me?”

Olivia shrinks at the attention, as she usually does with strangers. “Hi,” she says, turning into Shanice’s shoulder.

Coco’s lips part into a crescent, but he can only suck in a quick, soundless breath. His mouth wordlessly falters before smiling and giving way to simple yet weighted beginnings. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia. You can call me Coco if you want.”

“Kay,” Olivia’s voice comes out no more than a breath as she lays her head on Shanice’s shoulder and pulls a few of Shanice’s shoulder-length twists over her eyes. Olivia curls in closer, attempting to disappear against the woman.

“It’s alright,” Shanice whispers back, giving a small squeeze. It’s alright, it’s alright. “Do you want to go back?”

Olivia nods slowly and Shanice lets her slink back to the ground.

“Where I can see you!” Shanice calls out to the small, retreating figure before stepping off to the side with some of the other parents. Coco sidesteps to follow her lead.

“Sorry.” Shanice can’t help but apologize. “Olivia’s just really shy around people.”

“Not your fault I’m a stranger,” Coco says. “Maybe I should’ve brought her a gift or something-”

“She doesn’t need gifts,” Shanice shakes her head, holding up her hand to stop him mid-sentence. “Just a little time, if you’re willing to give her yours. She’s a completely different kid when she’s comfortable.”

Coco’s sheepish gaze lands on Olivia and it follows her as she chases another girl over to the ship’s nautical wheel. Without taking his eyes off the children, he starts speaking. “I got another daughter, you know. That hostess at the restaurant?” He turns to Shanice, and she nods to both acknowledge and encourage. “My mom pretty much raised her as my sister until she was twelve. That’s when we let her know, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so pissed. Got her a laptop and a new phone, thinking it would make her happy. She set them both behind my car one day, so I rolled right over them when I was backing out.”

Shanice suddenly snorts and Coco looks at her strangely at the outburst. She cups her mouth with both hands, but it does little to stifle her growing laughter. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to say all that.”

“I didn’t even mean to unload that family drama on you,” Coco chuckles, watching her laughter settle. His face contorts into an incredulous half-grin. “Don’t know why I even told you that.”

Shanice understands what he means. Their first two meetings they share are tense, but she allows herself to be nicer today until she’s given a reason not to be. As they speak, this moment is oddly comfortable. Like meeting an old friend…under the strangest circumstances.

“I haven’t been a teacher very long,” Shanice begins, composing herself, “But I’ve learned that teenagers are some of the most vindictive people in the world. Exceptional grudge-holders. It’s pretty impressive, actually.”

Coco smiles as he nods, thoughts briefly somewhere else. “Yeah, Letty’s good at that.”

“Couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t in school,” Shanice leads, trying not to seem like she’s being judgmental or prying, but she is pretty nosy.

“We’re in the middle of moving her into my place. I gotta get her registered for school and all that, so my mom can go traveling Europe and shiiii…” Coco’s voice strains towards the end when he realizes he’s about to swear in the middle of the playground. “She deserves to travel and have some fun after raising Letty. But it’s about to be all on me, and I’m just…”

“Scared?” she offers, and he shrugs. “Understandable. I’m not an expert, but kids mostly just need to feel safe, be encouraged, and be able to trust you.”

“I had all that and still ended up in jail.”

“Good point,” She playfully concedes with a shrug. “Sometimes you just gotta cross your fingers and hope for the best.”

After a beat, he knits his eyebrows together as he recalls something. “Wait, where do you teach?”

“I’m an English teacher at Damon Pope.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise, “That’s where Letty starts on Monday.”

“Really?” Shanice shares a similar look of disbelief. “So, you don’t live too far away from us.”

“Right at the edge of town,” he tells her. They get quiet, leaving things unsaid. He’d been living so close to Olivia and didn’t even realize until recently. Within the same school district.

Their conversation is benign after the awkward break. They opt for small talk until Olivia runs over with wood chips sticking to her feet and her hair coming out of her puffs.

“Can we go eat?” she asks, huffing and puffing.

“You want your PB&J?” Shanice asks, reaching to fix her hair.

“PB&J and pizza!” Olivia exclaims with a smile, throwing her tiny fists in the air.

Shanice makes a disgusted face, “Pizza again?”

Coco chimes in with an idea. “How about somethin’ with less preservatives? You two could come back to the restaurant.”

Olivia’s stomach answers for them both. ________

Once at Tres Reyes, Shanice is again overwhelmed by the amazing smell coming from the kitchen. She’d been secretly craving the food since stepping foot inside the restaurant. Letty’s at the front desk and she does a double take when she sees Coco being followed in by Shanice and the little girl.

“This is Letty,” Coco tells her, tapping his hand on the podium twice to pull her attention towards him. She is unabashedly staring at the child. Her little sister. “Letty, this is Shanice and Olivia.”

Shanice and Letty share very heavy nice to meet you’s.

“Where’s jefe?” He asks with a nod.

“Next door, yelling at Chucky again,” Letty tells him, staring at Olivia.

Letty puffs out her cheeks and crosses her eyes, making Olivia giggle through her teeth against Shanice’s shoulder.

“She’s so cute,” Letty gushes, but her voice is low as she seems to be speaking only to herself.

Coco surveys the restaurant with a glance. “It’s pretty slow, you want to help me with something?”

Letty nods.

“I’m gonna bring out a few things,” Coco says as he leads them through the restaurant before landing at a booth near the service window.

Coco throws an arm over Letty’s shoulder and whispers something in her ear as they walk towards the kitchen. By the soothing look in his eyes, Shanice can tell it’s an apology. He doesn’t expect to have his two daughters meet this way, and the weight of the moment doesn’t fully register until now. They go to the back for a while and an older woman with long dark hair approaches the table.

“I’m Vicki,” the waitress greets them. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just a ginger ale for me, please,” Shanice says.

Vicki turns to Olivia, “And what about you, princesa?”

“Apple juice, please,” Olivia speaks slightly muffled, biting the collar of her shirt. Shanice tugs the fabric from between her teeth.

Vicki smiles, giving them both a knowing look before walking away from the table. She wonders how many people Coco has told about what’s happening. Everyone is in on this big secret except Olivia.

Coco and Letty soon walk out with three trays filled with small bowls of toppings. On a single tray was a small tortilla. They place them on the table and Letty seems to linger until the restaurant door opens. She hesitates but leaves to tend to the incoming customers.

“This is kinda like a pizza. We can put anything on it,” Coco explains, picking up the first bowl.

Shanice encourages the moment, “This all looks so good, doesn’t it, Mushroom?”

Olivia only nods, still uncomfortable about her surroundings. She settles onto her knees with her hands flat on the table as she leans closer. She scrunches her face up, squinting with one eye at something in particular. “Where’s a’sauce?”

“We’re gonna spread this on it instead,” Coco says, holding up the bowl of refried beans. He demonstrates spreading it on half the tortilla. “You wanna try?”

Shanice watches as the words spark excitement in Olivia’s eyes. What Olivia actually hears is ‘You wanna help me make a mess?’ Her favorite pastime. She takes the spoon Coco’s offers and starts spreading the beans on the rest of the tortilla.

“Good, now you can put anything you want on it,” Coco tells her, pushing a bowl of shredded cheese towards her.

She dips her little fingers in the bowl and starts sprinkling it all over the pizza, but it mostly gets on the table. She takes some of the cheese from the table in the other hand and stuffs it in her mouth.

“Hey!” Shanice says, briefly tickling both Olivia’s sides, eliciting a loud laugh. She involuntarily brings her arms down to shield her sides. “Don’t eat all the ingredients!” Olivia just eats more, laughing louder.

Coco gets a playful look on his face before taking a small piece of diced tomato. He throws the piece in the air and catches it in his mouth. Olivia is astonished, immediately tries to do the same with the cheese, but it ends up all around her like confetti. Some lands in her hair, but Olivia only laughs again.

“Boy…” Shanice slowly sets her gaze on Coco, giving him a comically blank stare.

Olivia has a diced tomato in her hand aimed like a baseball. She throws the tomato at Coco and he expertly catches it in his mouth. Before Shanice can say anything else, Olivia throws a handful of cheese at her, expecting Shanice to also catch it in her mouth, but it catches her off guard. Cheese falls on her chest and soldiers.

“Sorry,” Olivia sings, but she doesn’t look sorry at all. She’s smiling from ear to ear, stuffing more cheese in her mouth.

Coco lets out a laugh as Shanice eats the cheese from her shirt. In that moment, Shanice can see what Mel found attractive about him four years ago. She notices the dimple in his cheek deepening every time he smiles.

“Love that you taught her that,” Shanice says with playful sarcasm, as she picks cheese out of her hair. “Alright, let’s finish so we can eat the, uh…”

“It’s called a tlayuda,” Coco finishes.

“A yuda?” Olivia questions.

Coco smirks at her pronunciation “Yeah, it’s almost like a pizza.”

“Kay,” Olivia says, focusing on putting more toppings on the tlayuda.

A few moments later, Letty returns with a much neater version of the dish. Her mouth waters at the strips of steak, cheese, and fresh avocado loaded onto the tortilla.

“Sit with us?” Shanice suggests. Letty doesn’t hesitate, sliding next to Coco and bumping him in the process. Coco dramatically crashes into the booth’s half wall, eliciting another giggle from Olivia. Slowly, the little girl Shanice is familiar with begins to emerge.

“Hi, Olivia,” Letty greets her again. She’s trying to make eye contact with a preoccupied Olivia, as if she’s trying to get the attention of the cool kid at school. “I’m Letty.”

“Hi,” Olivia croaks out between haphazard bites of the tlayuda she’s made. She greets Letty out of reflex and immediately looks up when she realizes three sets of eyes are on her. Olivia suddenly plops down on Shanice’s lap, pushing the back of her head against her chest.

“So Letty,” Shanice begins, wrapping her arm across Olivia. “We’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other. I teach over at Damon Pope.”

“Forreal?” Letty asks slyly as she takes out her waitress pen and pad from her apron. She wets the pen with the tip of her tongue. “And which class is that again?”

Shanice lets out a small laugh when Coco’s eyebrows furrow suspiciously. “Why you wanna know?”

“I’m just assuming it wouldn’t hurt to know the teacher personally.”

“I teach English, but I’m kind of known for being a tough grader.”

“Ooh, then forget it,” Letty says, putting her pen and pad down on the table. Coco tsked.

Shanice can’t help but laugh, “Mr. Kochiss teaches British Lit, and I’ve heard a lot of students say that his class has a more…relaxed grading policy,” Shanice says, choosing her words correctly. “But you seem to be a very intelligent girl. If you want a class that’s a little more challenging, I teach Lit Comp. It’s an AP class, but if you’re serious, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“AP?” Letty’s eyebrows raise playfully. “So is that Kochiss with a K or a C?”

“Leticia,” Coco says, his voice coming out as more of a groan.

“Oh, what? I can’t joke now?” Letty asks innocently.

Shanice laughs into her first bite of tlayuda. She has to lean awkwardly over the table because Olivia is still parked on her lap with no intention of moving.

Shanice lets out an unexpected moan when she tastes the food. “This is so good.” She doesn’t realize the way she sounds until she looks up to find Coco’s half-lidded eyes on her. It’s just a flash, but it feels like an eternity when their eyes meet across the table. He quickly averts his eyes down to the table as he taps a song with his fingers.

“When will you…” Letty starts, oblivious to the previous interaction. It pulls Coco’s and Shanice’s attention back. “When are you going to, you know…tell her?”

Shanice loudly clears her throat. “Uh, not for a while. We all still need to get to know each other better. Get comfortable.”

“About that,” Coco interjects. “I was thinkin’ next time we could meet up at the beach.”

Olivia perks up again just then.

“We don’t say eachbay or oolpay or any large bodies of aterway around this one.” Shanice practically hisses the words as she pushes them through her teeth.

“Can we go to the eachbay today? Pleeeease?” Olivia begs.

Shanice threw her hands up in defeat. “Great, now I can’t even say it in pig Latin.”

Coco speaks up, “You know what would be better than going to the beach for just a little while today?”

“What?” Olivia surprisingly doesn’t shy away.

“Staying for the whole day on Saturday. If that’s okay with Shanice, of course.”

Olivia turns around so that she’s kneeling on Shanice’s thighs. The little girl takes Shanice by the face to whisper with wide eyes. “Can we go to the beach on Saddurday?”

Shanice whispers back, mirroring her animated expression. “Yes. As long as you’re good.” Olivia starts leaving greasy kisses all over Shanice’s forehead. “Alright, alright!” she says at full volume now. “Girl, you’re gonna take off my eyebrows.”

“And I could come too, maybe?” Letty asks as Olivia sits back down. For a moment, she’s just a little girl asking to tag along.

“Aye, you gotta be good too,” Coco teases.

Somewhere along the conversation Olivia falls asleep against Shanice’s chest. She looks down at the little girl and is thankful the day doesn’t turn out to be the disaster she’d imagined.

[maydei]

Making Headlines: Part One

one-time cw: mention of nonsexual physical assault and transphobia 

genderfluid!will & doctor!hannibal 

[read the ongoing saga on AO3]

One gunshot wound, successfully stitched closed, and the patient stabilized. It’s his third surgery of the night; the first involved putting pins in a compound-fractured tibia, the second was reattaching the partially-severed finger of a drunk man attempting to operate a table saw. Hannibal has only barely exited the operating ampitheatre when he is accosted by a nurse.

“Oh, Doctor Lecter. I’m really sorry to bother you, um…” Bernadette, one of the newer hires, shuffles in place. She has not yet gotten to the point where she uses her no-nonsense tone on him—Hannibal almost finds it funny. Nurses are without a doubt the backbone of the emergency room. He simply goes where they bid him, and now is not the time for her hesitation.

“I understand, of course. Duty calls. Is there another one?” His shift is nearing an end; Hannibal has the good sense to admit he is growing weary. When he’s tired, he’s ineffectual. An ineffectual surgeon can be a death sentence. He is weighing the options of taking on another patient, depending on severity, when she interrupts his thoughts.

“Kind of—Dr. Guthrie is with a patient, and Dr. Cruz just stepped out. We have two patients in their early 20s who were just escorted by police. Suspected concussion and badly bruised rib cage; the other one is in pretty good shape, aside from a split lip and a probably-fractured hand, but they won’t let anyone get near them.”

“Assault?” Hannibal asks, and removes his soiled gloves. He quickly, thoroughly washes with the pungent antibacterial soap up to his elbows. “Assuming it’s not an emergency, then.”

“No,” she says, and uncertainty threads through her voice.

“What is it, Bernadette?”

“One of the patients is gender non-conforming,” she says. “And the police seem to be pretty laser-focused on them.”

Hannibal is silent while he considers this. Transgender and nonbinary people face a much higher risk of assault. It is an unfortunate side to his job that he sees them fairly often. But he has developed something of a reputation for his understanding in dealing with them—in that regard, he’s not surprised Bernadette has brought this to him in absence of searching out Dr. Cruz, who is… decidedly less accepting. He shakes the water from his hands and reaches for paper towels to blot himself dry.

“Understood,” he replies. “Do you have their chart? I can provide an assessment of the situation.”

Bernadette practically deflates with relief. “Thank you, Doctor. Here. I’ll show you to them.”

Hannibal flips the chart open, scanning as he follows his nurse, dodging the hustle and bustle of the busy Saturday-night Emergency Room as a practiced participant. The data in the chart is minimal: William S. Graham, twenty years old, student at the University of Maryland. Nothing in the medical history to cause alarm. Insurance provided through his—their—school.

And then Bernadette leads him behind the curtain, and Hannibal absorbs everything at once.

The officers stand on either side of the bed; there is no safe haven for William to draw away, and thus, they have drawn in on themselves. Their hair is frazzled, piled atop their head in a haphazard knot; damp with nervous sweat at the hairline, wisps of curled bangs hastily swiped away from carefully-outlined blue eyes by bloody knuckles. Their teeth are bared, a row of straight, sharp teeth painted red by a split lip, dripping blood over the artificial sheen of lipgloss.

Hannibal’s keen eyes immediately make note of the darker patches on the knees of their black denim pants that disappear into black boots; contusions on the knees. Their flannel shirt is green and black plaid, smudged with blood and dirt and what appears to be brick dust. It hangs unevenly open, clutched closed by Will’s other hand; a cracked pair of glasses is folded over the gaping collar. Through the gap that reveals smooth, pale skin, Hannibal sees a flash of a black satin undershirt.

“Look, you’re facing arrest for assault and forgery of documents. You shouldn’t have been out at that bar. Just tell us where you got your fake ID, and maybe we can let some of this slide—”

“Are you kidding me?” they snap. Their eyes flash to Bernadette and Hannibal, then back to the cops. “I’ve told you anything relevant. If you can’t do your jobs with what I’ve given you, then you don’t deserve your badges. There had to be thirty witnesses back at the bar.”

“The witnesses don’t change the fact that you were breaking the law,” one of the officers says, and Hannibal feels his blood run cold like ice, slicing through his veins. “Lying about your age, presenting yourself under false pretenses—”

It is a strange sensation, sympathy. One that Hannibal is in no hurry to embrace, and no rush to repeat. But he has always found the treatment of LGBT individuals by law enforcement to be tasteless.

And this is his domain, at least for the moment.

“Officers, I will have to ask you to step outside the curtain,” Hannibal says smoothly. “My name is Doctor Hannibal Lecter, I’m here to tend to the patient.”

“He’s suspected of a crime,” one officer says, short and mean-eyed, and for a moment, Hannibal considers what the flesh of his belly might taste like, rounded as it is beneath his uniform blues. It’s been months since his last display, and of course, this is too close to home—but still, he considers the benefits. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“Short of attempted murder, I will have to insist,” Hannibal replies. His gaze slides to William, and finds himself being sized up, measured by the fury behind sharp blue eyes. There is a predator living inside that skull—or, at the very least, anger enough to fuel one. “HIPAA privacy laws are very clear. I will supervise here; Bernadette, if you would care to escort the officers to question the other patient? This interview seems quite one-sided, considering most of what I see at first glance is an extensive collection of defensive wounds.”

The officers bristle; Bernadette radiates satisfaction. Police escorts are not uncommon in the emergency room, of course, but neither are victims being pressured before being properly tended to… or without legal counsel. Hannibal intends to remedy at least one of those issues.

“Officers, follow me, please,” Bernadette says. “I can lead you to Mr. McCallum, and then to our front desk to fill out chain of custody paperwork.”

They go. Some tension seeps from William Graham’s shoulders, but none of the anger from their face.

“My nurse informed me you wouldn’t let anyone tend to you,” Hannibal says, and makes no move to approach quite yet. “Would you allow me to disinfect your cuts?”

Slowly, slowly, they nod.

Hannibal gathers supplies from the cabinet; sterile wipes, non-stick gauze, and a collection of bandages and paper tape. He rolls the nearby stool to the edge of the bed and sets everything there for William to see, pulls on a pair of nitrile gloves before holding out one hand in silent query.

One shaking, bloody hand is set gently into Hannibal’s palm, and he gets to work.

“What are your preferred pronouns?” Hannibal asks, careful to keep his voice even. He tears open a sterile wipe and swipes in short strokes over the abrasions on bruised knuckles.

“I don’t care,” they reply quietly. “He and him is fine, I guess. I’m not trying to lie to anyone.”

Hannibal nods once. “You have no need to explain yourself. Gender identity is a deeply personal thing. Do you prefer to go by William, or do you have something else you’d like me to call you?”

He swallows. With the rage melting from his body, all that is left is exhaustion and simmering anger, a thin blanket to mask his fear. “Just Will.”

“Hello, Will.” He glances up and offers a small smile. He rarely has cause to use it in the operating room; it feels rusty with disuse, but knows it appears sincere. “I’ll warn you, I am usually a trauma surgeon. I was alerted to the situation by your nurse. I may be called away if another emergency arises, but in the absence of one, I am qualified to tend to your wounds.”

Will says nothing. He takes a deep breath and lets it out; it shudders, and he shivers, drawing his other arm tight around his body. “I was just defending myself. Now they’re coming after me about my fake ID.” He laughs once, bitterly. “Cops don’t care about fake IDs. Not really. They only care because of how I look.”

“And how do you look?” Hannibal asks, curious as to what Will might say.

Will glances up. He meets Hannibal’s eyes and holds them. “Different.”

Hannibal discards one blood-soaked wipe and reaches for the gauze. He wraps Will’s first hand, and tapes the bandage into place. He considers this. “Are we not all different?”

Will scoffs. “Only a special kind of different gets guys to try to beat you up outside a bar.”

Hannibal tsks and holds out his hand for Will’s other. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to belittle your experience. Gender and sexuality-nonconforming individuals are at a much higher risk of violence. I see it often enough within these walls to not be ignorant of the cause.” He sets to work on Will’s other hand; the skin on his fingers is callused with years of hard work, but his fingernails are painted with sheer varnish and carefully shaped. His knuckles, though, are swollen purple and blue—very likely broken. “You will need an x-ray of your hand. It appears you may have fractured your first and second metacarpals.”

Hannibal gently flexes Will’s wrist; when he detects no flicker of a wince or any indication of pain, he hums with consideration. “No inflammation elsewhere; you know how to throw a punch.”

At that, Will grins. It makes his lip stretch, crack, and bleed again. The scent of artificial cherry is the only indication that the flushed color of his mouth is not solely from spilled blood. “Yeah. Learned that one early on.”

Hannibal answers with a small, satisfied huff. He holds off on wrapping Will’s broken hand and stands to reach for a hospital gown. He sets it on Will’s lap. “There’s blood on your pants; it seems you may have cut your knees. Do you think you can get undressed without hurting your hand and without assistance?”

Will grimaces; the wolf’s smile is gone. “I’m sure I can manage.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Hannibal replies patiently. “I’d be happy to get a nurse to help you—”

Will shakes his head. “Don’t. If you could just…” Will looks frustrated with his own inability, so terribly, vulnerably young. “If you could help me unzip my boots, I can do the rest on my own. I’m not going to hurt myself getting out of my clothes.”

“People manage to hurt themselves doing much less.” Hannibal’s voice is droll and perhaps exasperated, but the most miraculous thing happens:

Will laughs. “Seeing the most graceless of humanity day-in and day-out must get exhausting,” he says with a smile.

Hannibal is stunned. The monster inside him is vindicated, though he does his best to hide it. How strange, the worldly secrets that spill so carelessly out of the mouths of babes. “And the accident-prone.”

“And the violence-prone,” Will adds. He reaches for his boots and winces when he puts weight on his injured hand; shuffles to readjust and recalculate.

Hannibal interrupts before he gets that far. “Allow me.” He keeps himself steady and clinical as he lifts one black leather boot and unzips it from calf to ankle. There is a strange, sensual weight to Will’s eyes on him that borders on unprofessional. He probably should have gotten a nurse to assist Will after all, but alas—“The other, please.”

There is a considering tilt to Will’s smooth jaw, a cautious grace as he uses his toe to push the first boot off, then offer the next. Hannibal narrowly resists wetting his lips at the flash of sheer black stockings underneath.

What a fascinating conundrum.

“I’ll give you a moment,” Hannibal says. “I’m just going to check and make sure there haven’t been any intakes since you’ve arrived. I’ll be right outside.”

“Not worried I’m gonna run?” Will asks. He slips his other foot free and peels the stockings off, turning them right-side out with his careful hands and folding them together in one neat, fluid movement that is unhampered by injury. He leans back against the incline of the hospital bed, and with a flash of challenge and consideration, moves slowly to reach for the button of his pants.

Hannibal waits until his fingers reach the narrow waistband before he averts his eyes and stands. He does not consider it a failure; he knows he shows no disgust on his face, no inappropriate intrigue. The only intrigue he feels is well-concealed, and not so crudely manipulated.

“Without your shoes?” Hannibal replies with a faint tilt of a smile as he heads to the curtain, soiled wipes gathered into his palm to be discarded. “Where would you go? Slip away into the night and back to your dorm? Tend to your wounds yourself?”

“I might do better than you’d expect.” He hears the creak of the hospital bed as Will stands, the rustle of fabric as he begins to undress. It’s crass. Cheeky. Against his better judgement, Hannibal finds it amusing rather than offensive. Will’s attitude is intelligent; not purely reactionary. “I’m resourceful.”

Hannibal resists the urge to look back and behold the sight of Will Graham laid bare. No, not so soon. His shift is near done, but his night has only just become interesting. If nothing else, Hannibal is a patient man.

Something tells him that Will Graham is worth savoring piece by piece.

“I believe you,” Hannibal says, and to his own surprise, he does. 

[jeffatk1ns]

Jealousy - Jeff Atkins x Reader

Request - "Can you do a Jeff imagine where he gets jealous and then turns into a hot make out sesh?" (This kinda has a bad-boy Jeff feel to it i guess) It had been a week since you'd spoken to Jeff. A week since you'd had one of the worst arguments yet. A week since you'd felt good. Jeff was your everything, and being in a bad place with him made you feel bad to your very core. But tonight, was your friend Jess' party, and you had to go, for her. You would just have to avoid Jeff as much as possible. You were here, but you were anxious to go in. So you stood behind a tree in the front yard until you'd downed the cider you'd brought with you for some liquid courage. You'd worn your lucky red lipstick. "Right." You muttered to yourself, before starting towards the door. The party was as you expected it, you did enjoy a good party every now and again, but the worry tonight was seeing Jeff. You'd had a huge fight because Your close friend Zach had said something unclear, that gave Jeff the impression that you had been cheating on him with Zach. Of course, you hadn't. Zach hadn't meant any harm, but the way rumours spread was insane. Everyone left right and centre believed it was true, and were convincing Jeff off it, too. You saw Hannah and Clay by the drinks and decided to go join them. "Hey guys!" You grinned. "Oh hey Y/N..." Clay stuttered, "Here have a drink." He said, handing you a red cup. "H- Hannah why don't you show Y/N the bathroom." He was tripping over his words. "Uh, Clay, I know where the bathroom is." You laughed, a perplexed look on your face. Hannah laughed and started to move toward you. Then, Jeff came out from behind the two with three drinks, and you realised what Clay had been trying to do. "Right." You nodded. "Imma go outside." You awkwardly pointed toward the door and dashed outside. You knew Jeff had seen you, but you just weren't prepared to face him yet. It hurt that he hadn't believed you. You sat down on a vacant chair in a relatively empty part of the garden with your drink, annoyed at yourself. "Hey, Y/N. You all alone?" Montgomery De La Cruz appeared out of no where and sat in the seat next to you. "Uh, I guess." You shrugged. "Nice. You having fun?" He asked. "Not really." He put his hand on your knee. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Y/N, maybe I can help make the night better for you." Before you could even muster up a response, a booming voice emerged from the shadows. "What the hell do you think you're doing man?" Jeff was not one who got angry often, but this was him at his angriest. He was probably a few drinks in, and had pent up anger from the previous week. "That's my fucking girlfriend! Get your goddamn hands off her or I swear to god-" he was pulling Montgomery by his collar away from you and his jaw was clenched. "Jeff stop! It's fine." You cut in, standing up so fast that your drink fell over. "No it's not fine! This pretentious douche bag thinks he can just hit on my girlfriend and I won't notice?" He shoved him. "Jeff!" You shouted again. "He meant no harm. It's not exactly like you've been acting like my boyfriend for the past week, so I don't know why you are now." The salt in your voice stung. Jeff looked taken aback, but his fist remained clenched. "Man I'm outta here, not worth it." Monty's voice cut through as neither of you had really been paying attention to him, and he slithered back into the house. "You clearly don't get it." He snapped. "I'm not having this fucking argument again." You moved in toward him, throwing your hands above your head. "Don't bother then!" He scoffed, stepping inwards. "I won't!" You spat. "Fine." "Fine." "Great." "Fucking fine." He was so close now that you could feel his hot breath on your face. He smiled menacingly and his jaw was tight. His eyes were boring into yours. Then in one swift movement he crashed his lips to yours and grabbed your waist roughly. You kissed him back fiercely and tugged at his hair. His tongue slipped into yours and you breathed heavily through your nose. His hands were hot on you and the kiss was deep and knee-buckling. He moved his mouth down to your neck, and pressed kisses all over, before coming back to your lips and increasing the hormone driven atmosphere that parties often had. You were shivering ever so slightly from the cold, which Jeff must have sensed. "Bedroom. Now." Jeff whispered roughly against you, pressing on your hips. You nodded and reluctantly broke away from him, to go back in the house and find somewhere unoccupied. You re entered the house and turned back to look at Jeff. He had your red lipstick smudged all around his mouth. "Nice look, Atkins." Clay Jensen remarked as he passed. Jeff shook his head, clearly uncaring, and followed you up the stairs. Once you found an empty room you resumed eating each others faces. Jeff lifted you up under your butt and you wrapped your legs around him. "I'm so sorry..." you breathed between kisses. "Oh believe me, I've never been more sorry in my life..." Jeff chuckled against you. "I knew I should've believed you... but everyone was telling me not to... I'm sorry..." "Shut... up..." you struggled. He brought you down onto the bed with him and lay you down, pulling a leg over him. "Damn... didn't... realise... week... long time..." he eventually managed to get out. Idiot. You thought to yourself.

[mockingbirdie]

Twirls’ Fic Commentary!!

Today I’ll be posting my commentary of Delayed Reactions which is my fic that  pairs together Scott Lang and Luis who-needs-a-last-name Marvel. I’m quite proud of this fic but since it’s kind of niche there’s like four people who care about this pairing, SO -- Regardless Here’s commentary, separated by chapter to read along with the fic

Scott often gets caught up in work and sometimes he sleeps in the lab but he’s been told to stop doing that

The real otp of this fic is Luis and his bat

Tom is drinking Gatorade because he needs to refuel

Dave is always the wheelman because he’s always awake

Dave is a master of observation

Kurt’s there because they thought they were going to do something cool

Luis has in fact been hooking up with guys for a long time. When he was 13 he and Andre Cruz made out under the bleachers at High School preview day. This was also the first time he tried pot - in the band bathroom after school - and it made him puke.

Hope hates that g d van so much tho

Hope has learned that flashing Scott is the easiest way to get him to stop talking

Hope loves Scott’s hair, it’s so curly and soft. Plus there’s enough to pull.

I really worry that I made Hope unlikable in this fic. While I don’t care too much for her character, I do write her as someone who says exactly what she thinks at any given moment, and sometimes it comes out a lot harsher than she intends.

I say nearly in that second to last section of chapter one, but I meant literally - Scott totally topples to the ground but rallies because even though shower sex is like the worst logistical way to hook up, Scott is always down for it.

Scott, like Paul Rudd, is a Royals fan. He will always be bitter about Madison Baumgardner and the 2014 world series. Luis is actually more of an Angels fan than a Giants fan, but he enjoys seeing Scott get flustered.

Luis says Nah at the beginning of sentences when he’s not exactly telling the truth.

Early mornings with someone you’re intimate with is the best and if Scott could spend all of his mornings like that he would.

Hope’s college friend is named Amanda and she lived across the hall from her freshman year and they became rivals instantly. They joined rival sororities and hate-made out like twelve times.

Why does everyone focus more on Luis being an ex-con than Scott? HMM I WONDER WHY

Cassie has visited Scott and Luis’ before, but this is the first time she’s spending the weekend there and she is so excited.

Cassie LOVES her dad’s apartment. It is the coolest.

Luis’ favorite cookies are chocolate chip, Cassie’s are MnM, Scott’s are Peanut Butter, Hope’s are White Chocolate Macadamia Nut, Dave’s are Snickerdoodles, and Kurt likes plain sugar cookies.

Scott absolutely sucks at grocery shopping

Cassie has no clue why Luis would want to leave but she knows she has to stop it right now

Local man compares best friend and roommate to ex-wife’s new husband, totally misses implications.

Remember what Luis said like a paragraph ago about grade-a Lang puppy-dog eyes? yeah.

Scott, this could have been avoided had you shopped ahead of time.

[can’t catch me, gay thoughts meme]

I’m a sucker for ‘adjusting the collar’ tbch

Roll up your damn sleeves Scott, Luis is a smart man.

Cassie is shy and she thinks Hope is so cool and sometimes hiding behind the couch is the best solution.

Cassie likes Falcon because she knows her Daddy fought him. Captain America is great and all, but Falcon can fly and that’s cool. She misses Thor, Thor was the best.

required of all fic featuring scott and cassie: at least 1(one) dad joke

Hope was totally going to talk about ‘where are we’ and Scott was going to be like ‘did I leave some socks at your place’ because that’s who they are as people.

LAVA MONSTER

Scott actually has a lot of nightmares involving shrinking. You should really look at that in yourself, Scott.

Remember - Luis and his bat, the real otp

Cassie’s a strong kid but every now and again everyone has nightmares and that’s okay.

Dad hugs are perfect, but Cassie needs a Luis hug too

Luis couldn’t sleep either.

Luis-as-a-voice-for-the-author-fuck-you-Hank

in the au where civil war happens Luis tracks down Scott and calls him and scott answers the phone and all he hears it “what the hell, bro.”

Dave Kurt and Luis all refer to Hope as Scott’s sugar momma in private conversation

Scott has a breakdown: the fic

Honestly Scott thought he could put a hole in the door because their apartment’s kinda crappy but the door won instead and everything sucks, so there you go kids.

Tiny Tykes Tae Kwon Do is a really thing and in this fic Cassie absolutely destroys everyone else in her class.

Cassie was actually 100% certain they were dating - and told Maggie as much - long before the first weekend.

… this has nothing to do with anything but Deshawn was Scott’s college roommate and they were the best man at one another’s weddings but they lost touch when Deshawn and Jacob moved to Colorado for his work. He does still get a Christmas card, though.

I like to imagine that - aside from the whole ‘marrying a cop’ thing - Maggie and Scott have a pretty decent relationship. I never liked how she came across in the comics and I feel like it’s unfair writing to pigeonhole her there in the MCU too.

What she’s saying goes completely over Scott’s head but honestly Maggie figures it’s not worth it to try and clarify.

Hope’s dress is stunning by the way, its blue and has intricate embroidery along the bottom and sides, and she has one of those sash things because that’s how you know a dress is truly fancy.

sorry Scott, but really

YES SHE DID SCOTT, SHE TOTALLY TOLD YOU THAT

have y’all ever read in to the Ant Man MCU backstory to figure out the story of Scott’s arrest? It’s actually pretty wild and I think the actual movie could have benefitted from using more of it.

DARLA DARLA DARLA I LOVE DARLA EVERYONE SHOULD LOVE DARLA

Darla and Luis are going to get along so well when they meet

not pictured: half an hour of Scott and Hope protesting that no way in hella are they going to a club for this, Darla, this isn’t a CW drama.

THIS ENTIRE SEQUENCE MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN SOLELY FOR THE BUZZING PHONE + “YOU COME PREPARED” JOKE

It’s important that Scott has this conversation with Dave rather than Kurt because Dave is really good at getting to the heart of an issue.

Yes he said subconsciously Scott, get on his level.

Scott is too old to sleep on a couch sitting up.

Scott makes poor decisions, granted, but making out with a hot guy at a club doesn’t really rank against making a conscious choice to not tell his best friend about his break up.

Luis is a bouncer! this is my head canon!

Gatorade, Scott

There’s a lot of things Scott will do for Luis, but sitting though another one of his cousin’s one-woman shows is not one of them.

I’m a hack, I tried for like a week and a half to incorporate either the zoo trip or a baseball trip with Cassie into this fic and could not do it.

Dave totally told Kurt

JOKE’S ON YOU SCOTT, LUIS DATE WENT WELL HE WAS JUST GRABBING HIS PHONE CHARGER

You can’t just randomly kiss people Scott. It makes a great narrative device but it’s NOT OKAY

there’s really just a lot of panic in these paragraphs, roll with it.

Luis loses his words when he gets overwhelmed!! Someone help him!!

YEEEEAAAaHHHH BOOOYYYYYY KISSESSSSS

Luis killed that boy. After he left Scott just stared at the door for like an hour because damn that’s the best fucking kiss he’s ever gotten what the hell

I personally head canon Scott as a morose drunk, very sad, negative nihilistic and that’s what we have here: the ultimate self-pity wallow.

Dave and Kurt did rock-paper-scissors to figure out who had to grab him

Luis has lived in his van before and he could again but he stayed at Dave’s instead because he wanted to be around other people.

Scott also has bad tastes in alcohol

fun fact: Dave didn’t actually take Scott’s phone, they left it at the apartment when he herded him out.

Dave’s mentality here is like that one scene from Just Like Heaven: “Because someday, trust me, I'm gonna need help movin' a body. When that day comes, I don't wanna hear any shit from you.”

Scott stress-cleans but admittedly he’s not that good at it.

when faced with Luis, Scott pulls a classic “NOPE” maneuver automatically. He doesn’t even realize it for a few beats.

Hope has Luis’ number? Yep. How she got it is anyone’s guess but I’m sure there’s a story behind it.

the more flustered Scott gets the more calm Luis gets during this conversation, it’s beautiful.

[hailey-halstead]

Promise

sadly no CF tonight....but here's a fic! Hope you all enjoy! i plan on writing another one at some time where gabby finds out in a more shocked kind of way. i don't own anything! —————— "What?" Sylvie was confused why Gabby was giving her a look. While maintaining most of her attention on her friend, Sylvie continued to watch Antonio walk away out of the corner of her eye, until he rejoined his intelligence unit co-workers. "That!" Gabby pointed from Sylvie to the table Antonio was sitting at. Luckily, he wasn't paying attention. A part of Sylvie was disappointed that he wasn't though, but she quickly shoved that thought out of her mind. "I don't understand what you are talking about...." Sylvie pretended, taking another sip from her margarita. Internally she was freaking out. Antonio Dawson just flirted with her, and she flirted right back. What the hell was that? Her eyes couldn't help but go back to him again. He had to have been a little drunk. That was the reason, definitely. When she continued to study him however, he didn't seem to be intoxicated at all, just being normal Antonio. Normal attractive, intelligent, funny Antonio.... Sylvie almost dropped her drink when he made eye contact with her, giving her a smile and a wave. Face flushing, she returned her attention back to Gabby. "You know exactly what I am talking about!" Gabby hissed. "You! My brother! Flirting!" "T-That was not flirting." Sylvie stuttered, knowing her face was now turning bright red. Hopefully she would be able to convince Gabby that the reason her face was turning red was because of the embarrassing topic, not that she liked her brother. Because she didn't. Not at all. "Just friends talking that's all. Actually, we aren't even friends! Merely acquaintances!" "Right." The look Gabby gave her was full of doubt. "Okay. Well you're in luck, I am going to force myself to believe you because honestly that was extremely weird and I don't want it to ruin this night." "No need to force, Gabby." Sylvie tried to be as serious as she could be. Even though she was pretty much lying to her face. "Because there's nothing going on, I promise you." "Okay, if you say so." Gabby finally gave in. Sylvie couldn't hold back a smile of victory, as they began to talk about something totally unrelated to Antonio Dawson. *** "The firehouse is blocks away, I find it ridiculous that I have to drop you off right here." Antonio complained, eyeing Sylvie warily. "We can't—" "Let Gabby find out." Antonio finished her sentence, slightly frustrated. "I know." Sylvie frowned, reaching out to push a stray piece of Antonio's hair out of his eyes. "End of the week." She promised. "We can tell her then." "She's not going to hate you." He told her. This is a conversation they have had multiple times before. "She probably would need some time to get used to our relationship, but I believe overall she'll be happy for us." "It's not only that." Sylvie confessed. She tried to think how to word what she was about to say, to not make it sound like she is too clingy or sappy. "I have enjoyed it being just the two of us knowing. I feel like this relationship is just ours." Antonio's face softened, leaning in towards Sylvie to press a kiss on her forehead. "I'm just worried that people might find out in a way we wouldn't want them to." He explained. "We've gone this long already." Sylvie reminded him, unbuckling the seatbelt and removing herself from his car. She walked around to get on the sidewalk, then leaned down to his window. "Just until Friday until this is all revealed." She promised. After giving him a brief kiss, she stepped back from the car. "I'll just stay here until you get to the firehouse." By the crossing of his arms over his chest and his stubborn expression on his face, Sylvie knew he wasn't going anywhere. "Okay, you overprotective goof." She started walked backwards on the sidewalk. "I'll see you tonight!" She then twirled around on the balls of her feet, now seeing where she was going. The walk to the firehouse was actually peaceful, when hers and Antonio's relationship would come public in a few days time she knew she would miss it. But winter was soon approaching, so overall it was for the best. Firehouse 51 came into view. Luckily, everyone who was walking in was in front of her, so they didn't notice that she walked a couple blocks. Honestly, it was amazing that no one has been suspicious these past couple of weeks. "Morning, everyone!" Sylvie cheerily said once she arrived in the locker room. "Why the hell are you so excited for?" Stella grumbled, barely holding back a yawn. "No reason, it's just the beginning of yet another beautiful day." Sylvie shrugged her shoulders, putting her normal everyday clothes back in the locker. She had brought her work clothes home for a wash, so she had actually taken a small pit stop in one of the bathroom's before heading to the locker room. "The only people who are that happy are those who are getting laid." Cruz bluntly stated. He started to waggle his eyebrows at Sylvie, much to her dismay. She practically shoved her head into her locker, pretending to look for something to hide her bright red face. But Stella pulled her out by her shirt collar. She was now exposed. "Ha! You're blushing!" She pointed a finger right in front of Sylvie's face. Sylvie was trapped. It was obvious that she was getting laid, she knew that. But if she said she was, there then would be questions on who the person was. And the fact that Gabby was listening wasn't making this any easier. "I....." She was screwed. She was so, so screwed. In her panic, she ended up blurting out something she had no plan on saying. "I had a one night stand!" Silence. Oh, great. She had no idea how she was going to explain to Antonio about all of this. "Yeah, you know....just those one time things...." Someone please shut her up, anyone.. Sylvie did an internal cry for help. "Didn't even know his name. Oh well." Sylvie weakly shrugged. To her horror, Stella took it as a sign that Sylvie had met her one true love. "We have to find him then, Brett!" "No, we really don't—" "People never act this happy after a one night stand!" She grabbed both of her shoulders, beginning to shake her to make her understand. "This could be your future husband." Sylvie made a face. She didn't think that Stella was some kind of hopeless romantic. "That isn't necessary." She told her. Thankfully, before Stella could open her mouth again to say some more romantic shit, the alarm above them started to go off. "Duty calls." Gabby said, shutting her own locker. "Thank God." Sylvie muttered under her breath, following the others out of the locker room. *** There were so swamped with calls today that the whole 'one night stand' fib Sylvie made up luckily was not brought up again. However, Sylvie should have noticed there was a motive behind Stella inviting her out to Molly's tonight. Unfortunately, she did not realize until it was too late, right when she sat down across from her and Gabby. "Do you think he's here right now?" Stella dove right in, excitement shining in her eyes. Sylvie rolled her eyes, but looked around for their amusement. She noticed Antonio a few tables down, talking with Atwater and Ruzek. Their eyes met briefly, and she couldn't help but flush slightly when he gave her a small smile. "Oh!!" Stella flung her head back, noticing the three detectives. "Did you sleep with one of them?" Gabby choked on her drink. "Even though I know it can't be Antonio, I couldn't help but imagining it and..." She shuddered. Sylvie blanched at Gabby's comment. If only she knew. "Ruzek or Atwater?" Stella demanded, a coy smile on her face. "Ooh, if Kim knew you slept with Ruzek—" "Atwater! It was Atwater!" Sylvie lied, slamming her hands on the table. She was really digging a hole for herself now. "Shit, Sylvie." Stella gasped. Gabby became confused. "Wait, you said that you didn't know who he was...." Damn. She really wasn't good at this making up stories thing. "I...." She drew a blank. "I thought it would be enough to get you guys to stop questioning me! But guess that cat's out of the bag!" She nervously laughed. "Well let's go over there then!" Stella announced, getting up out of her chair. Oh hell no. "That really isn't necessary, Stella—" But Stella ignored her, approaching the table. Gabby turned to Sylvie and shrugged, like 'what can we do' and got up to follow Stella. Sylvie groaned, but begrudgingly walked over to the table. Stella was already talking, and what she was saying apparently wasn't good because Ruzek spit his beer out. Everyone's eyes turned to her when she caught their attention. "Uh, hey guys." She broke the silence, giving them an awkward wave. "Hey Sylvie." Atwater spoke up. "Stella just told us an interesting story...." "Oh God." Sylvie collapsed into the booth. "Everything she said was a lie." Atwater snickered. "I sure hope so." His demeanor shifted, worried that she would take offense. "I mean, I'm sure it would be lovely but—" Sylvie shuddered at the image. "Let's stop talking." She offered. Atwater nodded in agreement and relief. Stella squeezed herself into the booth. So Sylvie was pushed closer to Antonio, who didn't seem to mind, and truthfully, she didn't either. He even grabbed Sylvie's hand, pulling it into his lap. "Why did you lie to us?" Stella questioned, actually looking hurt. Sylvie was beginning to feel guilty. "Because you guys wouldn't let it go!" She protested, unconsciously grabbing Antonio's beer and took a sip. Once she placed the drink back down, she realized her mistake. She tried to save it, shoving the bottle back towards Antonio. "Thought it was mine, sorry." She mumbled, face reddening. Antonio shrugged, acting unfazed. Sylvie saw the corner of his mouth turn up in amusement. He was finding all of this to be amusing. Gabby was looking suspicious across from them. But she didn't say anything, however Sylvie knew she would have to be more careful. "Was anything you said true?" Stella grabbed Sylvie's attention back. Sylvie sighed, wishing that they could all forget about everything she has said today. Luck was not on her side though. "No." She gave up, tired of stringing her friends along with her lies. Antonio and her were planning on telling their friends in just a few days, so revealing their relationship early wasn't a big deal. "I was trying to divert you from the truth." "What truth?" Ruzek inserted himself in the conversation, looking interested. She could just run, Sylvie thought and tempted with the idea. Get up and dash out of the bar. But she knew that running from her problems would not end well in the long run. "That Antonio and I are sleeping together." The words practically fell out of her mouth. She slapped her hand over her mouth immediately, but she couldn't take them back. "Er- not just sleeping together—" Thankfully, Sylvie felt Antonio's arm wrap around her shoulders. This reminded her that she was not alone, her boyfriend was right next to her full of support. "We're dating." Antonio finally confirmed what they have been hiding for weeks. Unlike Sylvie, he was looking pretty poised, until he made eye contact with his sister. Then he begun to act a little flustered. "We were going to let everyone know on Friday but.." He gave Sylvie a look. She stuck her tongue out at him as her reply, but then judging by Gabby's reaction, she should have chosen words. She was looking pretty scandalized. Sylvie switched her attention from Antonio to Gabby. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you. Honestly I was afraid of your response—" "How long?" Gabby interrupted her. "How long has this been going on?" "Um, almost a month." Sylvie warily told her friend. When her jaw dropped, Sylvie felt the need to quickly explain herself. "I was nervous, and also it was nice just having it be just between the two of us." She gestured to Antonio beside her, who gave her a smile. "Well, I can't lie, this does freak me out a little." Gabby admitted. She became silent, it was apparent that she was trying to find her words. Sylvie strengthened her squeeze on Antonio's hand, trying to maintain control of her nerves. "But I have noticed that you've been happier lately." Gabby mused, eyes shifting back and forth from Antonio and Sylvie. "Both of you." She added. "So you're okay with us being together?" Sylvie tentatively asked, unconsciously tightening her grip on Antonio. He let out a gasp of pain. "Damn it, Sylvie!" He cursed. "You have a tight hold!" Sylvie quickly let go of his hand. "Sorry!" Seeing her own brother in pain might have broken the ice, as Gabby began to snicker. "I'll have to get used to it, but yeah, I'm okay with it." Gabby shrugged, giving both a smile. "As long as you two are happy. And you don't make out or get all touchy-feely in front of me." She warned. "Deal." Sylvie took Antonio's drink to cling it against Gabby's, as she had left her's back at their table. However, what Atwater yelled out next solved that problem. "This calls for another round of drinks!" They all cheer to that. Sylvie leaned against Antonio's shoulder, feeling relief now that their relationship was public. He leaned down to brush his lips against her forehead. "Now that wasn't too bad, was it?" Sylvie couldn't help but sneak a peek at Gabby. Her paramedic partner was staring intently at her phone, ignoring what was going on in front of her. "Made it to be one hell of a stressful day." Sylvie admitted. "But now that it's out in the open, no, it isn't bad at all." "I told you it was going to be okay." He couldn't resist the urge to tease, to which Sylvie rolled her eyes. "And you were right." She turned her head to press a kiss against his jaw, before sitting back up to let Gabby stop playing on her phone and return to the conversation.