#paced the kitchen for like twenty minutes just to stall even though it’s only three pages long. i’m normal

[ectoplasmer]

i love my boyfriend i love my boyfriend so mych he is so soft and warm and comfy and pretty and

[fw00shy]

hello!! i see that you're taking prompts 👀❣️ i would love to see your take on hitman draco - whose next target is harry

hello shal!! I loved your prompt and wanted to write something super dangerous and sexy for it, but instead I wrote this. 😅 

Horrible Luck

Harry/Draco | M | 2.8k | Hit-Wizards, Humor, Catsuit, brief mention of dudley working out in front of the telly | ao3 link

When does a relationship stop moving forward and start looping back like a broken time-turner, intent on rewinding the same disagreements in perpetude? When did all the little quirks Draco used to love about Harry turn into a list of things he wouldn't need to deal with if he were alone? Draco's mind is on his kitchen table this morning — specifically, the half-eaten plate of eggs that Harry left behind; Harry knows the kneazle will sick up from it — so Draco doesn't notice the name on his latest assignment until he's already signed off the disclosure forms.

Harry James Potter.

"We don't need him dead for a few days," Pansy's saying. "Just get it done before the Rodney Snyder Bill comes to a vote in Parliament on Monday."

"Get it done..." Draco trails off, swallowing sickly.

"Yes, Draco? Sorry — oh-thirteen. Blast this numbering system. It isn't as though you're on my payroll as 013. I'm tempted to order a hit on you just so I won't need to write all five bloody titles of yours every two weeks. Only joking, of course — Draco? You alright there?" She taps the heel of her stiletto against the desk, where she has it propped up next to her coffee.

Draco blinks. "Right, yes. Before the Rodney Snyder Bill. Which bill is that again?"

"It's the usual hem-haw about how life is so unfair blahblahblah." Pansy waves the peacock-feathered quill in her left hand. "Don't worry yourself over it. Are you all worked up because it's Harry Potter? I know you had a bit of a tiff with him back in school, but hadn't we all? Potter's an absolute waste of breath if you ask me."

"It's not that..."

"What is it? If it's because of his involvement in the last war, you needn't worry about that. All our sources report that he's nothing more than a tax acrobat for Muggles now, on the days that he's not wreaking havoc with his voting powers in Parliament. I don't know what half those words mean, but I want a drink just for saying them out loud."

Draco decides that it is probably not in his best interest to tell Pansy that Harry was actually a tax accountant, and yes — it is indeed as dull as Neville Longbottom's surprisingly round bottom if their dinnertime conversations concerning the subject matter are any indicator.

Draco's mind flits briefly back home. He hopes their kneazle didn't manage to eat any of the eggs before Draco cleaned up Harry's forgone plate. Who knows where she'll puke it up this time. If she ruins his pillow again... Potter is in for a slaying. Only verbally, of course.

"Don't worry about me," Draco says.

"I never do," Pansy says far too flippantly to be a lie. "As I said, you have a few days, so finesse it however you like. Toy with him a bit, for all I care. Get him in bed, then turn a wand on him — go wild. Now doesn't that sound exciting!"

Draco decidedly does not tell her about the last time he "turned a wand" on Harry in bed. Let's just say that it was both slippery and steamy and smelt faintly of strawberries.

"Alright, Pan — sorry, P. I'll get it done. You know I will."

"That's my boy," she smirks. "Now come give me a kiss before you go."

Pansy started demanding that sort of goodbye after she picked it up from a Muggle romcom. "Absolutely disgusting," she'd proclaimed, kissing Draco's cheeks. But the kisses stayed while the mocking subsided. Don't let it fool you, though — she still has plenty of unlearning to do. They get along fine as long as Pansy keeps her mouth shut.

Which is practically never. This is Pansy, after all. Her father liked to joke that she was born wailing for someone to wipe her arse. But Pansy is the only family Draco has left.

The next few days pass in the doldrums of a daily routine. Draco goes off to the local library and does his usual research (a combination of Muggle Internet and blood spells for tracking; Find My Friends is a godsend) despite knowing full well where Harry is at all times. He watches Harry's green dot make its way down the tube to the financial district by way of the Pret a Manger on 3rd Street. The blinking green dot doesn't move for several hours (it never does; Draco knows because he tracks Harry every few weeks out of paranoia). Draco is starving by noon, but he hangs on until three to see if Harry's dot will move the slightest; but alas, Harry is as much the meticulous Gryffindor hero at tax accounting as he was at Horcrux hunting; he doesn't do so much as grab a bite at the cafe in the lobby.

Harry heads home at precisely five-thirty. Draco waits a respectable fifteen minutes before doing the same, so Harry has time to put dinner on the table. The spread tonight smells delicious as it always is: roasted chicken and potatoes, broccolini, those purple carrots that Harry covets from the Muggle farmer's market; homemade treacle tart for dessert. Sometimes Draco wonders how Harry can manage all of this in the fifteen minutes he has before Draco gets home, but he never questions it for long. Who knows how cooking charms work. Not Draco. He's still a Malfoy, after all.

Harry kisses him good-evening before they sit for dinner. They share meaningless conversation about their day. Draco makes up some story about how Hannah in Marketing took the last premade salad he wanted from the deli down the block and is appalled over how, even in his made-up life, he's about as dull as Neville's — well, you know.

"If I hear another word about Neville Longbottom's surprisingly round bottom, I'm going to start thinking you want to fuck it," Harry declares while savagely tearing into his chicken thigh. Draco shudders at the sight; whoever taught Harry how to cook clearly forgot to teach him how to eat.

Still, it's a clear opening for a fight. Draco welcomes it as one does a summer storm, and soon they're throwing plates at each other. The kneazle (Morticia; Granger's idea) scampers out of the kitchen — that Hufflepuff coward — and Draco manages to graze Harry's left cheek before they stall to catch their breath.

The calm is a fallacy, of course; the eerie stillness of a storm's eye, broken up in the next minute with a low growl, and they're clawing at each other again. Except now, Draco is inexplicably hard.

But still, so incredibly bored.

What is the standard deviation of the time from start to Scourgify? Draco wouldn't be surprised if it's less than five minutes.

Monday comes and goes. Draco's thinking about Harry's dirty socks, the ones he tucks between the sofa cushions, while Pansy dresses him down for his latest failure.

"I swear, oh-thirteen. If we weren't like family..." Pansy trails off, her crimson-lacquered nail pointed threateningly at Draco.

"Sorry, Pans," Draco says, trying his level best to look his most innocent. It's not his fault he's an awful hit-wizard, alright? They should've known from his resume. Ronald Weasley, Katie Bell, Rosmerta, Dumbledore... mainly, he kills his marks by accident. He's got horrible luck.

Pansy declares that this is Draco's final chance. And then a week passes, and Harry stays alive. Draco's dead bored staring at his boyfriend's unmoving green dot all day on Apple Maps. He's made friends with Stephanie-the-librarian, though; they go out for a pick-me-up around three pm, and then Draco makes up stories about how she sends him racy pictures of their fake manager and this and that over dinner with Harry. All's okay if not precisely thrilling until the bill passes with Harry still alive, and then Draco reports to Pansy's office with Theo also in the room.

Theo is wearing a full suit, which is par for the course. But Draco knows he's in trouble because Pansy has her heels off her desk.

"Oh-thirteen," Theo booms. "You let the James Buckles Bill pass."

"Which one is that?" Draco asks between nervous swallows.

"Ten-percent increase in taxes on long-term capital gains," Theo explains the same time Pansy snaps, "None of your business."

"Right." Draco has no idea what these words mean. "Umm... sorry?"

"And the week before," Theo says, pacing now, "you let the Rodney Synder Bill pass."

"Ten-percent increase on income tax for those who make more than seven figures a year," Pansy says before Draco can ask.

Figures? Income? None of this means anything to Draco. If he wanted to be a solicitor... well, he's a Malfoy. Malfoys solicit, never solicitator. Or whatever the word for it is.

"It's only two bills, sir," Pansy pipes up in Draco's defence. "Meaningless in the grand scheme of things compared to the Pepper Oakley Bill tomorrow."

"What is —"

"Thirty-percent increase on property tax on all parcels of land within major metropolitan districts, and a twenty-percent increase on all property over two acres, compounding," Pansy hisses to Draco before turning her full attention back to Theo. "Which will not pass. Draco's been building up a relationship with the mark, hasn't he?" She kicks Draco with the pointed tip of her heel.

"Yes!" Draco yelps out in pain. "Yes, absolutely. I've been building... a relationship with Ha — the mark. He's umm. He thinks we're in love."

Theo regards Draco with narrowed eyes. "In love."

"Turns out he's desperately lonely," Draco says with a mocking sneer, though the truth is that they were both rather pathetic in the beginning.

Draco's story passes Theo's muster. He straightens up and gives them one last menacing glower before he leaves. Draco and Pansy stare at the door for a long, vacant second.

Pansy turns to Draco with a sigh when Theo's footsteps retreat down the hall. "Are you really seeing Potter?"

"Oh. Umm... sort of."

"I'm happy for you," she says. "You worry me, you know. Can't be too healthy for the aura with you sulking about all the time."

"Right," Draco says.

"Right," Pansy agrees. She schools her features. "Sorry about the, um — having to kill your boyfriend."

"It's alright," Draco says.

"Right." She coughs. "Well, then. I suppose you ought to go prep. Remember to get it done before tomorrow morning. If I were you, I'd get it done tonight, so you can stop worrying about it and have a decent night's sleep. Now come and give me a kiss before you go."

Draco short-circuits his usual trip to the library and heads straight home. The midday sun comes in too bright from the printed kitchen curtains. He's never noticed how disproportionately large the clumsily illustrated lemons are in comparison to the cherries and ice cubes — but that's what he gets for letting Harry pick the print. When Harry's dead, he'll replace them with a pattern worthy of the Malfoy name. He's always liked snakes and daggers (just the image of them; they're ghastly in reality).

He gets hungry enough around three to rifle through their cabinets for a snack. All he finds are two expired Twinkies and a can of tuna that he realises only after his first bite that it's meant for Morticia. He briefly considers popping by the library to see what Stephanie's up to before deciding against it. He needs to focus on murdering his boyfriend.

Draco is in the middle of purging his wardrobe when he finds his hit-wizard uniform hanging in the back. It's all black and one-piece, like a Muggle wetsuit but much sleeker, like a seal. But not as adorably chubby. More like Catwoman. Lithe, but deadly. Unfortunately, it's not a very practical uniform for murder, so Draco hasn't worn it in years. He slips it on out of morbid curiosity and is pleasantly surprised to find that it still fits him — especially around his arse. Morgana and Mordred both, his arse.

He loses track of time admiring himself in the mirror. And that's when Harry opens the bedroom door.

"Fuck," Draco says. His wand is out and trained on Harry's chest. (Hit-wizard reflexes; Draco's terrible at murder but surprisingly adept at keeping himself alive.) "I — um. I can explain."

"Merlin, you look hot in that," Harry says. He sounds like he's come back from running. "I've always wanted to see you wear it."

"What?"

"Your hit-wizard catsuit." Harry holds both hands up and steps toward Draco. "So fucking hot. I'm going to fuck you into a wall if you let me get any closer. Promise."

Did someone start up the fireplace? "I knew you stared a bit too hard at Halle Berry's arse the last time we watched Catwoman."

"Can you blame me for imagining what you'd look in it?"

"You don't look so bad yourself," Draco purrs. He can't help himself; Harry hasn't looked so fit in years. What is it about him today? Did he do something different with his hair? No...

Harry disarms Draco's wand hand and pushes him up against the wall. He's always been good at following through on his promises.

Draco's washing up in the shower when he realises what's different about Harry today. Harry's wearing an Auror uniform.

Draco bursts out of the shower still wet and dripping. He finds Harry in the living room with the telly on.

"You're going to ruin the carpet with all that water," Harry says, his nose scrunched. He's still got his crimson Auror robes blatantly bunched over the sofa.

"You're a fucking liar," Draco says. "Muggle tax accountant? I can't believe I bought that lie."

Harry remains painfully nonchalant. "We both had our secrets."

"But you knew mine." Merlin, for how long? Was their whole relationship a sham to —

Harry sighs and spells Draco dry. A bathrobe — plushy and cottony, Draco's favourite — flies in from the bedroom to wrap around Draco's shoulders.

Draco begrudgingly shrugs it on.

"Sit down," Harry says, patting the space next to him. Draco almost does as asked, but stops when he spots the smelly old sock peeking between the seat cushions.

"You're an Auror," Draco says. His lips sneer involuntarily at the betrayal.

"And you're the hit-wizard out to kill me. Yet we're both still here," Harry says. "Come on, Draco. Sit down."

Draco eyes the sock.

Harry's face purples. "Is this about the bloody sock? For the thousandth time, it's not me leaving them about. It's Morticia!"

Harry vanishes the sock. Suitably appeased, Draco walks over to their sofa and sits primly at the edge of it.

"I wasn't actually going to kill you," Draco says by way of an apology.

"I know that," Harry says. "You're an idiot. Hit-wizard, really? It's a wonder how I ever thought you were my nemesis."

"That is absolutely rude and uncalled for," Draco says. "I was plenty good at Quidditch."

Harry grins. "I'll give you that. Most distracting arse on the pitch... some things never change."

"You don't look so bad yourself in those robes," Draco says. He coughs. "I mean. We should... talk."

"Yes."

They've never been good at talking.

"So..." Harry says slowly. "What are you going to tell them when I'm still alive tomorrow?"

"Oh, I dunno. Can't you pretend you're dead? Please? For me."

"I'll be helping a lot of people if we pass this bill," Harry says apologetically.

Right. Saviour complex. Draco's painfully familiar with compromising around that character flaw. "Pansy's going to kill me," Draco sighs. "Well, unless we kill her first. But I'd rather not. She's my favourite person in the world — besides, you, of course."

"She's actually. Um." Harry coughs. "I think she's going to be fine."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... err."

"No," Draco gasps. "No, don't tell me she's been a mole this whole time."

"Err. Well..." Harry scratches the back of his head. "Did you know she's getting married to my cousin Dudley?"

"The awful Muggle bully?"

"He's um. He turned alright in the end? He's been working out in front of the telly. Bought these free weights and all... says it's really changed his outlook on life."

"Sweating in front of the telly changed his life?"

"Something like that," Harry says.

"That sounds disgusting."

"Yeah... I try not to think about it much either. So, err… takeaway? Greek, maybe? You loved the rotisserie chicken we had a few weeks ago. Before um, you started throwing it at me."

Shouldn't they be discussing something serious? Draco already forgets what. "Takeaway? But don't you —"

"Right," Harry laughs. "Now that everything else is out in the open, I suppose there's no harm in you knowing that I order takeaway and vanish away the boxes before you come home."

"I..."

"Draco? You aren't mad, are you?"

Mad, no. Surprised — absolutely. But Draco should've known that dating Harry Potter would never be boring.

Read on AO3

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 6 - The Sound of a Shouting Soul (Part 3)

Wanted to get this out a lot sooner but life got in the way

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. So there’s like rankings for how much someone can hold their drink. Waku (which includes all of Chikusei-sou) are people who don’t get drunk no matter how much they drink. Zaru are people who only get a little bit drunk after drinking. Geko are people who can’t drink at all.

Previous | Next

They had to completely get rid of their summer fatigue and they had to rest their bodies gradually before the meet; they trained a lot during the fall, but they didn’t run as much as they did during the training camp. Even so, as expected, even Kakeru began to feel both physically and mentally tired.

It was from the pressure of thinking “What if we do all this and it doesn’t go well on the day of the meet and it ends up being all for nothing?”

Unlike the previous meets, the qualifiers were a one-round competition with no redos; if you didn’t get the time you wanted, you couldn’t just bet on the next one, and that tension weighed heavily on Kakeru’s mind and body.

The training regimen had become denser. Twenty kilometers was the norm for cross-country, and build-ups were introduced into track practice. For instance, if you ran seven thousand meters, you ran the first thousand meters at a pace of less than three minutes and ten seconds, and then worked your way up to two minutes and fifty seconds at the end.

As they ran long distances faster and faster, the pain was not negligible. The inability to breathe during the endurance runs and the violent palpitations of the heart after running as fast as you can assailed you at the same time. It was like playing water polo while drowning, and Prince and the others threw up many times. However, every time Kiyose would caution, “Endure as much as you can.”

“You’ll get into the habit of throwing up. Hold it in and run.”

“I can’t do it.”

“I’ll choke on my own vomit.”

Prince collapsed onto the grass next to the track, and the twins, who were trying to look after him, also threw up with him. It was a miserable situation.

However, sandwiching the proper amount of rest needed between training sessions, the residents of Chikusei-sou gradually became able to keep up with the build-ups and the twenty kilometer cross-country runs. They went to the Showa Memorial Park in Tachikawa, where the qualifiers would take place, and everyone did a trial run of the course.

One day, less than half a month before the qualifiers, Kiyose gathered everyone after they had finished a cross-country run. A chilly wind blew through the open field in the approaching sunset. The tips of the grass had lost their vigor, and there was no trace of summer left. The fruit on the swaying persimmon trees, which no one was picking, were the same color as the setting sun.

“It’s a battle of concentration from now until the qualifiers,” Kiyose said. “Focus and control yourselves so that you’ll be at your peak both physically and mentally on the day.”

“Well that’s easy to say.” Nico-chan sighed. The stress from the tension was giving him an unusually large appetite these days and he was having a hard time regulating himself.

“I feel like my delicate heart has already reached its peak.” King couldn’t help but get stomach cramps during training. “I wonder if I can last until the qualifiers.”

“Don’t be afraid.” Kiyose’s tone was calm, reassuring everyone. “You’ve all done more than enough training; all that’s left to do is use that pressure to hone yourselves. Envision yourself as a beautiful blade running in the qualifiers, and sharpen and polish it well.”

“What a poetic expression,” Yuki said.

“But I get it,” Prince said. “You don’t want to sharpen it too much or you’ll snap before the qualifiers, but if you keep it too dull, it will be useless if the blade still seems cloudy on the day of the competition. It’s something like that, right?”

“Exactly,” Kiyose nodded. “You can’t get there just by recklessly practicing; it’s a battle within yourself. I want you to listen closely to your mind and body, and sharpen yourselves carefully.”

I see, Kakeru thought. This might be one of the strengths that’s required for long-distance.

Long-distance didn’t require explosive power nor was it something that required extreme concentration during a competition to perform a technique—all you did was send forth your legs alternately and plainly moved forward. All you had to do was sustain the simple act of “running”, which most people had experienced, for a set distance. The stamina needed to sustain that was cultivated during daily training.

In spite of that, Kakeru had seen runners whose health broke down during or right before a competition many times: they ran well at first, but suddenly their pace was thrown into disorder; their bodies were in good shape, but three days before the race, their times during practice suddenly stalled; there were those that caught colds even though they were very careful, and ended up getting taken off the lineup on the day of the competition.

Kakeru couldn’t help but feel confused. Practice makes perfect. Why did people ruin themselves when all they had to do was run? Kakeru himself had gotten diarrhea at the last Inter-High he participated in. He hadn’t eaten anything cold or rotten, but his stomach suddenly took a bad turn. He was still able to run, so there were no problems, but he kept wondering, “Of all days, why did I get a stomach ache right before the race?”

He understood now. It was described as a “failure to adjust”. The reason for almost all of them was pressure; the anxiety of suddenly wondering “Is this enough?” no matter how much you trained; the fearful thought of “What if I still lose?” arising as soon as you were confident that it was enough. The more you sharpened your body and mind, the more fragile you became; you got colds and stomach pains more easily, like a precision instrument that breaks down abruptly from just a little bit of dust.

Honing yourself until you were sharp and smooth enough to overcome fear and anxiety and withstand any dust—that power was probably one aspect of the “strength” Kiyose talked about.

Kakeru understood all that, but there was still the question of whether or not he could put it into practice. The more serious you were about running, the less easily you were able to free yourself from pre-competition nerves, and confronting your own body and mind was a very lonely process. You always had to fight alone in the space between compromise and excess.

Kakeru eventually stopped thinking about everything. The more he thought about it, the more fear would arise, because he could only imagine bad things.

People were afraid of ghosts because they thought about and imagined them. Kakeru hated those sorts of ambiguous, vague things; he didn’t want to be bothered by the irritating dullness of “If I think it exists, it exists”, he wanted clarification on whether it was “there” or “not”. Just like being able to move forward if you simply moved your legs, one foot in front of the other.

Kakeru ran without thinking anything. He threw himself into training and repeated the act of “running” as he remembered it with his body. He didn’t know any other way to overcome pressure.

The other members of Chikusei-sou, unlike Kakeru, were inexperienced, so they hadn’t yet established a way to relieve tension. Some, like Kakeru, practiced harder and harder, some burned incense and slept, and some reread sports manga from beginning to end. Everyone was working hard to make their final adjustments for the qualifiers.

With two days to go before the qualifiers, Kakeru felt that his concentration was improving at a good pace.

Practice that day was light, as they shouldn’t be tired on the day of the competition. Of course, each person did their morning and evening jogs, but there was no real practice scheduled on the day before the qualifiers either. They had done everything they had to do, all that was left was relaxing their bodies while keeping an eye on their health while raising their fighting spirits and concentration.

“Let’s do one last finishing touch.”

At Jouji’s suggestion, everyone at Chikusei-sou decided to have a small drinking party two days before the qualifiers. For this group, drinking was the easiest way to relieve tension and solidify their bonds.

The landlord was invited as well, because he was more or less their coach, but there was a problem: the landlord had entrusted Kiyose with the money to fix the hole, but Kiyose had given that money to Shindou to put aside for the Hakone Ekiden; with the transportation and lodging costs, they never had enough money.

As the landlord stepped over the threshold of the front door, Jouta crossed in front of him while looking at the gravure page of a magazine. Distracted by the photo of a woman in a bathing suit, he took off his shoes without looking up at the ceiling and kept close to Jouta as they went upstairs. The tactic was a success. Kakeru and Jouji, watching the situation from the kitchen, gave each other a small high-five.

It was arranged for Prince to sit on top of the hole. You must not stand up as long as the landlord is here, not even if there’s an earthquake or you have to go to the bathroom. Given that strict order by Kiyose and Shindou, Prince obediently hid the hole while reading manga.

“Now, we would like a few words from our coach,” Kiyose said when the liquor was flowing well. The landlord, hugging a large bottle, got up unsteadily. Wondering if he might see him act like a coach for the first time, Kakeru looked forward to what he was going to say.

“It’s finally time for the qualifiers…let me tell you the secret to winning,” the landlord solemnly stated in his hoarse voice. “Move your left and right legs one after the other and go forward!”

The room fell completely silent. The landlord seemed to have sensed the overflowing disappointment and despair.

“…You do that, and you’ll reach your goal one day. That’s all!”

“’That’s all’?!” King roughly put down his cup.

“Is this person okay?” Yuki said.

“Can’t we get a coach who’s a little bit better?” Nico-chan said.

“Ah, my motivation has completely gone down now,” Jouta said.

Quiet unsatisfied voices filled the room. Kakeru hurriedly turned to Kiyose.

“Haiji-san, from the beginning, you believed that this team could definitely make it to Hakone. I thought it was more than impossible, but…why were you so confident?’

“Mm?” Kiyose looked up from his cup and smiled. “Because everyone can handle their liquor.”

“What?”

Everyone immediately stopped complaining about the landlord and now turned to look at Kiyose.

“There are many long-distance runners who can drink a lot. I guess it’s thanks to their internal metabolism. You guys have surpassed being heavy drinkers, you’re bottomless pits, aren’t you? (1) I’ve been observing your drinking habits for a long time and I thought, ‘This could work.’”

“There are plenty of heavy drinkers in the world.”

Shindou looked up at the sky as though to say “I can’t believe this.”

“You dragged people into this thing for that reason!?” Yuki’s voice cracked with anger. Kakeru groaned. He had wanted Kiyose to get everyone motivated again, but it had had the opposite effect.

“Did we really come all this way based only on how much we drink?” Prince, shocked, was about to get up, but Shindou restrained him with his eyes and he hurriedly sat back down. “That’s like building a skyscraper on top of mud with just willpower.”

“Of course that’s not the only reason,” Kiyose said, but his articulation was a bit odd. “I noticed the spark of talent that had been sleeping in all of you.”

“Haiji-san’s drunk,” Kakeru sighed.

“Aaah, isn’t there anything livelier to talk about?” King fell onto the tatami, looking up.

“By the way, how are things with Hanako-san?” Musa asked the twins.

“Hana-chan?”

“What do you mean by things? We get along well?”

The twins both answered innocently.

They don’t know. These guys really don’t know at all. Everyone else muttered to each other.

“By the way, you guys don’t have girlfriends, right?” Nico-chan, who had been nibbling on a piece of dried squid since earlier, said as though it had just occurred to him. “If you do, you’ll have to get them to cheer for us the day after tomorrow.”

It was rare to hear such a topic discussed at Chikusei-sou. Part of it was because their living spaces were so close, they were careful not to deliberately step into each other’s private lives, but it was also because they would all somehow know even without being told expressly.

However, for almost half a year, all of them had been busy training and weren’t able to keep track of each other’s love lives at all. Of course, no one had ever brought their girlfriend to their room before—their conversations and anything else could be overheard, after all.

The twins said, “We’re recruiting one!” in unison. If you’re recruiting, then you should be aware of the existence of applicants, Kakeru thought. King silently curled his back.

“What about you?” Yuki asked Nico-chan.

“I don’t have that kind of energy left right now,” Nico-chan scratched his stubbled chin.

“Same here,” Shindou hung his head. “I’ve been going all around negotiating with the supporters’ association and the school, so I’m afraid that she’ll run out of patience with me soon.”

“You’re dating someone?” Kakeru was surprised. He couldn’t quite connect the reserved and honest Shindou with the brilliance of love.

“Shindou-san has been in a relationship with a woman since he started school,” Musa explained. “It is hopeless for me. I cannot find anyone who will come to my hometown.”

You don’t have to suddenly go all the way there… Kakeru thought.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend, Kakeru?” Musa asked. Kakeru shook his head.

“I’m not popular, after all.”

“It does not seem that way, though.”

“Um, what about you, Prince-san?” He hurriedly shifted targets, but Prince’s eyes were still on his manga.

“I’m only interested in 2-D girls.”

Even though he was born with an idol-like face, it was like pearls before swine. Prince glanced at Kiyose.

“Leaving that aside, I sometimes hear rumors about Haiji-san in the literature department, you know? He looks like that, but there’s all kinds of…Ow!”

Crying out in pain slightly, Prince shut his mouth. A peanut flicked by Kiyose had hit him right between the eyebrows. There was no one brave enough to press Kiyose more than that.

Kiyose laughed slightly and asked, “What about Yuki?”

“I’ve got prospects, a good personality and my looks aren’t bad? Of course I have one,” Yuki answered calmly. King curled himself up more and more.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” As the landlord was pouring shochu into his teacup right to the brim, a phone rang. It was Yuki’s. Excuse me, Yuki said and left the room.

“What, was that his girlfriend again?” Nico-chan said. Kakeru also noticed that Yuki’s phone had been ringing a lot these days.

“But Yuki has been looking somewhat somber recently, has he not?” Musa tilted his head in worry.

King seemed to have decided to drown his sorrows in alcohol. “There’s no ice,” he said, shaking the empty bowl. Kakeru, who was near the door, stood up and said, “I’ll go get some.”

He went downstairs and saw that the entrance’s sliding door was open, and that Yuki was outside on the phone. He could hear his voice slightly. It seemed like he was arguing about something, and although Kakeru was curious, he crept into the kitchen, concealing his footsteps so that he wouldn’t disturb him.

He transferred the ice into the bowl and refilled the fridge’s ice maker with water. Judging by the way everyone was drinking, it might not be ready in time. Kakeru turned the fridge’s temperature knob to “strong” and left the kitchen with the bowl. 

The front door was still open. But there was no sound of talking. After some hesitation, Kakeru put on his sandals and peeked outside.

Yuki was squatting next to the door, looking up at the night sky.

“I made ice,” Kakeru called out to him softly. “Let’s go back and keep drinking with everyone.”

“‘Kay,” Yuki answered, but he made no attempt to stand up. He looked absentminded, his left hand gripping his phone.

“Did you get some kind of bad news?” Kakeru stepped over the threshold and squatted down next to Yuki while holding the bowl.

“No,” Yuki said. “My parents saw the news story and nagged me about showing up back home once in a while.”

“Where do you live?”

“Tokyo.”

If that’s the case, then it wouldn’t take much time to go back home, and there’s no need for him to lodge in a rundown apartment like Chikusei-sou in the first place. That reminds me, Yuki-senpai said he didn’t go back home for New Year’s, Kakeru recalled, and sensed that there were some circumstances behind it.

Insects were buzzing loudly in the grass of the yard.

“Kakeru, why aren’t you excited about getting interviewed?” Yuki asked.

“Umm,” Kakeru said. “I’m resented a lot. I think my parents and the guys from my high school team probably don’t want to see my face, so that’s why: I want to be as inconspicuous as possible.”

“You’ve been through a lot, I see. I thought you were just a track maniac,” Yuki’s words were biting, but he didn’t pry any deeper.

“Thanks to being a track maniac, I ended up having to keep secretly running away from interviews,” Kakeru laughed.

Noise suddenly erupted from the twins’ room. There were sounds of people running around and shouting something.

“What’s going on?” Kakeru and Yuki looked overhead and stood up.

The window facing the yard opened. “Yuki! Are you there!” Kiyose shouted.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Call an ambulance!” Kiyose recognized Kakeru and Yuki and waved his arms to hurry them. “The landlord’s throwing up blood!”

Kiyose got on the ambulance and accompanied the landlord to the hospital, and then finally returned to Chikusei-sou some time after the next day had already started.

The early to bed and early to rise routine was so ingrained in everyone that they couldn’t keep their eyes open, but they were all worried about the landlord’s condition, so they had stayed up and waited. Kiyose, surrounded by the residents at the entrance, gloomily told them the news with a tired expression.

“He’s got a stomach ulcer, so he’ll stay in hospital for a week. Apparently the reason is stress from extreme nervousness.”

“Stress!?” Jouji shouted hysterically. “Why was he stressed?”

“He was a carefree coach with no sense of responsibility though?” Jouta tilted his head. He definitely just drank too much, Kakeru thought.

“I also have a lot of questions about the reason, but…the landlord was probably worrying about us in his own way,” Kiyose rubbed his temple. “For that reason, the day after tomorrow—or rather, tomorrow—we will do the qualifiers without the coach there.”

“I don’t really mind, though.”

“It’s not like he’s ever there.”

The twins stated their candid thoughts, and Kakeru nodded.

“Didn’t you say we can count on him when we need it?” Kakeru muttered.

“I said ‘probably,’” Kiyose responded, and as though to say “good grief,” took off the hoodie he had on.

Previous | Next

[gumnut-logic]

Barbecue

This story is @godsliltippy​ ‘s fault. It was spawned in an Animal Crossing game, apparently, and she mentioned the concept to me and immediately sparked an idea. I feel what resulted isn’t quite what she had in mind, but I’m not in control here, sorry :D In fact, the whole thing turned into a weird ramble about Tracys really rather than a cohesive story.

I posted the beginning of this a while back when my muse took a hit and refused to write anymore. As it was never planned to be anything but one chapter, I have posted it as a whole now that it is finished. So you might find that you’ve already read the first bit. Sorry. Skip to the origami scene, dinner being served and you’ll find the new stuff.

Thank you to @scribbles97​ for the read through and support :D

I hope you enjoy this mostly Tracy fluff :D

-o-o-o-

It wasn’t often that the Tracys got together as a family. Sure, they lived on an island together, saw each other every day and even worked together. But there was a big difference between sharing a room versus sharing an event.

This time around, it wasn’t a special day or anything in particular, but Gordon had decided that the family needed some down time, had sweet talked Grandma who had the power to make it happen and International Rescue had been shut down for an evening.

John was dragged down from orbit a few days earlier so he could actually walk without his gravity assistance. When he complained, Grandma tore him a new one.

He didn’t comment after that, though Gordon swore he heard Eos laughing at him at one point.

Gordon thought it would be somewhat scary to have an AI laughing at you, but John just rolled his eyes and glared laser beams at his fish brother when he realised he was watching.

Johnny was such a soft target, but his revenge was lethal.

Gordon decided on a hasty retreat.

It was a simple barbecue on the beach down by one of the huts. A chance to laze on the sand, chat and just be family.

Now that Dad was home, their family was almost whole.

There would be no daring, to-the-ends-of-the-solar-system rescue for their mother. It just wasn’t something they could fix, so technically they would never be entirely whole again, but things were what they were and Gordon preferred to think positive.

The alternative sucked.

So, barbecue on the beach. Barbecue usually meant Virgil was cooking, but Two had been called out on a rescue just after lunch and that was following the one before lunch and the one after breakfast.

Scott had gone with Virg earlier and Gordon even earlier, but the second eldest waved him away on the third. It was a simple one. He would be back in time to turn the burgers.

He wasn’t.

It was left to John to fend off both Scott and Grandma, as neither were allowed near the barbecue. And while John was a bit more of a connoisseur than Virgil with his burgers perfected rather than barbecued, he still managed a great steak.

Whereas Scott would burn it.

Alan wasn’t allowed near the food otherwise no one else would get any.

Gordon did the salads. He was one to do things to carrots that no one else would think of. Even Virgil admired his radish roses and the salad dressings he created. Kayo sometimes helped him and today was one of those days.

Scott was usually tasked with furniture set up, but today he was hovering in the comms room keeping an eye on Virgil.

After all, three rescues in one day was a hefty workload.

And Dad? Well, Scott got his worry wart genes from somewhere.

“Is he on his way back?” Gordon strode into the comms room to find his father seated at his desk and Scott hovering like a lost soul, both staring at the holoprojector and a hologram of what was obviously Two’s external camera. Virgil was wearing his exo-suit and hauling several large containers onto his ‘bird.

He looked tired.

Gordon frowned. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, Gordon. Packing up now.” It was still weird when Dad answered a question like that and not Scott.

Especially when there was a furrow on his eldest brother’s forehead.

Dad noticed Gordon’s gaze and looked over at Scott. “He’s fine, son. You worry too much.” Their father swiped at a secondary hologram on the desk, pushed his chair back and stood up. His cane rattled against the chair as he grabbed it to make his way over to Scott.

Who was still frowning. “Sorry, Dad. Just three in a row. He’s supposed to be home.”

“It’s the nature of the business.”

Scott looked at his father as if to say ‘Really?’

Dad cleared his throat. “Hmm, you have a point.” He straightened. “But we have to trust Virgil when he says he is okay.”

Scott’s grunt was non-committal.

Dad dropped a hand onto Scott’s shoulder. “He’s coming home and he’s staying home.”

Scott continued to stare at the hologram of his brother in the centre of the room. It was obvious Scott obviously wanted to skip all that and just have Virgil safe on the Island.

Scott wasn’t very good at waiting.

“Hey, Scotty, can you help Alan with the table?” At least it would have his brother doing something for a few minutes. By then Virgil would be in the air and on his way home.

“Sure.” But it was distracted and those eyes still hadn’t left the hologram.

As if on cue there was the sound of breaking glass and a number of rather offensive words from the kitchen.

As Scott moved almost as fast as his ‘bird, Gordon bit his lip and secretly applauded Kayo’s back up plan.

It worked. By the time Scott felt secure enough to let Kayo loose in the kitchen by herself again – Gordon swore she play acted the scene, any other time a brother would be dead for questioning her capabilities – Thunderbird Two could be heard on approach and all that was left to do was for Scott to run down to the hangars to check on his brother in person.

It was worth the milk jug and the clean-up.

As expected, Virgil was fine. A little tired, yes, but functional and looking forward to the evening on the beach.

He cleaned himself up, donned his flannel civvies and wandered down to the beach.

There was much discussion between John and the tired engineer about burgers until Gordon rounded up Virgil and set him doing fancy things with paper napkins.

If they ended up with fifty swans, twenty parakeets and forty-odd doves, he didn’t care. It was obvious Virgil was beat, running on a post rescue high and just needed something to do. The fact he was somewhat of an origami addict just worked in Gordon’s favour.

It also helped that Grandma sat with Virgil to keep him company.

Dinner was cooked and served. There was a bounty of food. If Gordon knew one thing it was that the key to a good get together was food and lots of it.

John’s steaks and burgers were divine as always, though lacking the char Virgil usually gave them. Gordon had a second helping, regardless.

Scott was still keeping an eye on Virgil, but their engineer brother seemed fine, stuffing food in his face at his usual muscle building rate.

Gordon kept an eye on Scott, noting that the eldest couldn’t seem to drop his concern.

Gordon toyed with the idea of asking Grandma to stall IR for the next day as well. The eldest two could do with a day off, obviously.

He’d talk to her later.

Dessert was an ice cream concoction with just enough alcohol and fruit in it to tickle the senses, topped with a crisp meringue. Basically, it was enough sugar to fuel a Thunderbird.

Which it did. All five brothers definitely appeared brighter after the meal and it was Scott of all people who suggested they go for a swim.

Gordon could never say no to that.

Private islands had their uses and the beach hut had change rooms and supplies for exactly this reason. Hiking all the way up the hill to the villa was not needed. Even Grandma had her own stash of swimwear down here and it was with some vivacity that the family descended on the hut and shed their clothing.

Except for Gordon who had come fully prepared because he was Gordon and there was a beach involved. So, it was with some amusement that he volunteered to tidy up the table while everyone changed clothes.

Scott stared at him for a full ten seconds obviously wondering if he needed to fetch a medical scanner.

Gordon just poked out his tongue and started collecting plates.

Their father had spent a great deal of time in the water since he had returned. Gordon actually enjoyed that fact. It gave him the opportunity to spend time with a man who had not only been missing for eight years, but prior to that had been mostly too busy to take a swim with his son.

There had been talks. Lots of talks. Even a few fragile moments.

The water gave his dad physical support that was sorely needed. John was known to take to the pool or the ocean for the same reason. Alan not so much. The baby of the family was not a water one. He enjoyed it, but his preferred environment involved rocket fuel and orbital stats.

Ultimately all the Tracys liked a fun dip in their private lagoon. Though, if he was honest, Gordon wondered if his brothers would be so eager to stick their toes in the water if they knew of the visitors the caldera sometimes received. He smirked to himself as Alan emerged from the hut, ran yelling down the slope, and barrelled into the water.

Gordon grinned. They weren’t dumb, but the aquanaut had installed certain sensors in the lagoon for a reason. It was his job to protect his family in the ocean, after all.

Scott wandered down the slope at an easier pace. He was wearing blue board shorts and displaying far more tanned skin than most of them.

John didn’t even bother and left his t-shirt on. Obviously taking no chances even though the sun was almost setting. His arms and legs still glowed and Gordon was hard put not to poke fun.

His astronaut brother must have picked up the vibes because he glared as he stalked past.

Grandma stepped down lightly beside their father, both wearing shirts. Dad had unspoken issues about the condition of his body and Grandma claimed that she couldn’t compete with the GQ covers surrounding her.

As far as he was concerned, Gordon was just happy they were there and having fun.

Because they were.

Grandma helped their dad onto the beach and then took a running jump into the water, her strong stroke chasing the eldest out into the lagoon.

It was Kayo who stopped at the edge with their father. Beaches were notorious for transmitting sound and, as he gathered dishes, Gordon could hear her soft voice even at this distance.

She was speaking Malay ever so quietly.

His father replied in the same.

Surprised Gordon couldn’t help glancing in their direction. She was looking up at his father with an expression of such gentleness, her hand on his arm. Gordon’s heart swelled and he looked away. He knew his sister had always been close with their father, but she was usually far from demonstrative. Tin’s early life had done so much to shape who she was today.

Gordon had a hate for her uncle that reached far beyond his own personal injury.

He finished stacking the picnic crockery and cutlery to the tune of the playful sounds in the bay. A quick wash of his hands in rainwater and he turned to face the lagoon.

His father was floating beside Tin and they were obviously having a private conversation. Scott, Alan, John and Grandma were apparently having a race. Gordon stared at that activity for a full moment, noting stroke strength and style. As always, Grandma was the most efficient, but the two older brothers outpaced her simply on strength and youth. Alan’s heart didn’t seem to be in it at all, but then Allie was secretly a softie when it came to Grandma and was probably losing on purpose.

He shared that with Virgil but for entirely different reasons. Virgil looked after Grandma. Grandma looked after Allie and was really the only maternal parent his little brother knew.

Not that he would ever admit any of it. Virgil was obvious. Alan was still far too teenager to admit to anything.

Gordon frowned. Speaking of Virgil, where the hell was the big softie?

Gordon’s eyes tracked over the water. What the hell? There was no sign of him.

He had come down, hadn’t he?

Gordon spun on the spot, hackles rising, eyes scanning the beach, the trail and the hut.

He thumbed his collar. “Eos, do you have a location on Virgil?”

“Hello, Gordon. Virgil is in Beach Hut Number Seven. His comms have been removed from his body and hence security-disabled. I really wish you and your brothers wouldn’t do that. It is disconcerting.”

Gordon didn’t acknowledge the AI, instead darting up the path to the hut.

As with everything on Tracy Island, the rustic little structure was more than it seemed. Security sensors recognised him as he touched the door and allowed him entrance. He swung it open and entered what equated to a mixture of storage facility and functional outpost. From here, any member of the family could get to the hangars fast via a hidden monorail system underground. It was one of several collection points dotted around the Island for sudden callouts.

But it also doubled as short-term shelter and basically a place to stash stuff. From swimwear to water sports equipment to art materials, the not so little huts held all sorts of things.

But the one thing Gordon was looking for was a heavy lifting brother.

He poked through the change cubicles. “Virgil?” It was quiet except for the sounds of the breeze and the ocean in the distance echoing through the still open door.

And the soft sound of snoring.

Really?

He found the last cubicle locked and had to jimmy the door to get it open.

Each change cubicle contained a bench and that is where his found his big brother.

Virgil had somehow managed to curl up on the far too small ledge and was fast asleep.

Gordon let out a sigh of relief suddenly realising exactly how worried he had actually been at his brother’s sudden absence.

The sigh fast turned into a fond smile as the worry slipped away. Not only was Virgil asleep in an odd spot, but he appeared to have fallen into slumber while undressing. His boots lay discarded to one side and his flannel shirt hung from a hook along with his grey t-shirt. But his jeans were still half on, down around his knees. It was almost as if he had sat down to remove them and tipped sideways on the bench, curling up against the wall half naked.

Gordon’s smile turned into a frown.

It would have been prime humour material involving photographs and eternal ribbing if it wasn’t for one factor.

Bruises.

His brother had a number of them down one side. What the hell?

Gordon stepped closer. None looked serious by themselves, but there were enough to suggest Virgil had taken a fall of some kind earlier in the day. An unreported fall. Gordon bit his lip. Unless…

A clatter of wet feet and Scott was suddenly there beside him, dripping on the floor. “What happened?”

Gordon shrugged. “Looks like he fell asleep while getting undressed.” He eyed his brother. “Did he report a fall?”

Scott took a step closer, staring at the bruises on Virgil’s torso. “Yes, but none of this.” A frustrated breath. “Hell, Virg.”

As if responding to his name, Virgil snorted in his sleep and tried to roll over.

And promptly fell off the bench.

Both Scott and Gordon lunged in to catch him, awkwardly scooping up limbs and important body parts, desperate to stop him from hitting the concrete. The man did not need any more contusions.

All three ended up on the floor. And while Virgil hadn’t acquired any more bruising, Gordon’s knees certainly had and there was a definite elbow to his collar bone that was likely to sprout something a little purple at least.

“Virg, wake up.” Scott’s voice was definitely in commander mode, but still soft with that brotherly worry that seemed to be ingrained in his personality.

Another snort and dopey brown eyes opened. There was little behind them for a full moment as they stared up at Scott who was still holding his brother against his chest.

Virgil blinked as water dripped on him. “Wha-?”

“You fell asleep, bro. In your underwear.”

“Wha’ the hell? Ugh, you’re all wet.” Virgil struggled to sit up. Both Scott and Gordon sat back and let their brother right himself.

Sitting up, Virgil let his back fall against the bench and sighed. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit, sorry.”

Gordon could hear the creak of his eldest brother’s frown beside him. “And so you should be. What is this?” Scott pointed at the bruises decorating Virgil’s right side.

The engineer blinked and looked down at himself. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Why weren’t they reported?”

An arched eyebrow as Virgil looked back up at his brother. “They’re just bruises. It was a busy day.” Those brown eyes latched onto Scott. “I’m okay.”

“You fell asleep while changing your clothes.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’m a little tired.” But then his eyes turned to Gordon. “I just didn’t want to miss out on the party.”

Gordon’s heart twitched at the honesty in those eyes. “You idiot. We could have done it tomorrow.”

Virgil looked down at his feet. “Probably would have been called out again.”

Gordon huffed. “No, Virgil, because tomorrow is a day off.”

It was Gordon’s turn to be frowned at by Scott, but the aquanaut was having none of it. He held up a hand. “No, Scott, was thinking it would be a good idea earlier and now it is certain. I’m speaking to Grandma.” He pursed his lips. “Or I can skip that step and just convince you here and now while dopey here has his purple decorations on display.”

“Hey!” Virgil got his frown on, but Gordon ignored him, keeping his own determination targeted on Scott.

Defiant blue flared for all of a second before looking down. Scott hated taking International Rescue offline. Gordon understood why and agreed, but there were limits.

Gordon reached out and gripped his big brother’s arm gently. “You need the time off, bro. You’re exhausted as much as dopey here.”

Blue eyes caught his for a moment and Gordon could see the decision being made behind them.

Quiet. “Okay.”

Gordon smiled just a little and squeezed that arm.

“What are you guys doing?” Alan, followed by John poked their heads in the door. “Kayo beat John by a – whoa, Virg, what the hell happened to you?”

Virgil didn’t quite roll his eyes, but he did push himself to his feet. “Work, okay?”

Several sets of eyes landed on Scott expecting a follow up on that statement.

The commander sighed and stood up. “John, can you please notify the GDF that International Rescue will be unavailable for another day at least.”

The space monitor nodded as sharply as usual, despite the fact his hair had obviously been hurriedly scrubbed with a towel and was sticking up in all directions. “FAB.” He slipped out of the room.

Alan was still staring at Virgil.

Another sigh. “Guys, can I finish getting dressed?”

Scott pointed at his brother. “You are going back to the villa to get some shuteye.”

“No, I’d like to go for a swim first and cool down.”

For a moment there, Gordon’s two eldest brothers glared at each other, neither willing to give in.

Virgil’s frown looked to crawl off his face and throttle Scott. “It’s only bruises. A swim, a shower and bed, I promise.”

Scott sighed. “Fine.” His lips twitched a little smugly. “Good luck explaining that lot to Dad and Grandma.” He turned and stalked out of the cubicle, herding Alan with him.

Virgil sagged and sat down with a groan.

He looked so dejected, Gordon felt sorry for him. “Hey, bro. Wear a t-shirt and they will never know.”

His brother grunted and started pulling off his jeans. A sigh. “Thanks, Gords.”

“Not a problem. Gotta look after my wingman after all.” He furnished that statement with a grin.

Virgil arched an eyebrow up at him, but Gordon could see the smile building behind his eyes.

“Go. Get. Let me get dressed.”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“Get out.”

Gordon cackled and waltzed out of the cubicle.

He didn’t go far. He stopped just outside the beach hut and waited for his brother to finish up. The sun was fast approaching the horizon and everything was a wonderful gold colour.

Down on the beach, Scott was speaking with their father, no doubt reporting the situation. Gordon held back a sigh. Virg was likely in for it despite the t-shirt.

There was more than one way to give a guy a break, for goodness sake.

Dad looked up the hill at Gordon and caught his eyes.

Gordon gave him a mock salute.

If he had to run interference for Virgil, so be it. After all, he meant it when he said he had to look after his ‘wingman’.

Gordon rolled his shoulders and grinned at Scott as his brother looked up frowning.

His wingman needed a break.

So, Gordon would give him one.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[luminous-grace]

for the trope mashup: 11. Fantasy/Magic + 34. Hurt/Comfort :D

Eep. This is over two months late but I did get to it so like. Better late than never, right? Thank you @casbeanwrites, for your endless patience even though I’m almost 100% sure you forgot about this because, like I said, it’s two months late. Anyways, here you go. Please enjoy… whatever this is.

Panting, Dean weaves through the forest.

Cas? Could use a little help here, buddy.

I will be there momentarily. Please do try your best not to get killed.

“No promises,” Dean mutters darkly, narrowly ducking under a wayward branch. The shouting behind him grows closer, and Dean swears. Catching sight of a break in the trees, he be-lines for it, bursting out in the open air with a rush of relief. It’s short lived, however, as he comes face to face with a wide open clearing and exactly nowhere to hide.

“Well. Shit.” Dean spins around, one hand drifting to the knife in his belt and the other dropping his bag protectively behind him.

After a moment, his three pursuers burst out of the woods, looking mean and very pissed off. Slowly, they advance towards him, and Dean sends another urgent message Castiel’s way. His response comes in the form of exasperated concern blasting through their mental link, and Dean winces, shaking his head to clear it.

Stalling it is.

“Alright, fellas.” Dean says, raising his free hand placatingly. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

One of bandits, Dean’ll call him Baldy, snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.” He turns to elbow the guy next to him. “Grab the bag.”

His buddy steps forward, snatching the bag from where Dean had dropped it. As he retreats back to his friends, he shoots a foot out at the back of Dean’s knees, knocking his legs out from under him. With a grunt, Dean stumbles to the ground before glaring up at them.

“I said,” Dean says, a little louder this time, craning his head skyward. “That we can do this the easy way or the hard-”

With a sound like a thunder crash, a creature the size of a house barrels out of the clouds above them. Terrified, the three men grasp for their weapons but they couldn’t have hoped to be fast enough. Before they can even blink, a massive foot shoots out, effortlessly pinning all three of the bandits to the ground.

Wings buffeting the ground as he steadies himself, Castiel glowers down at them. His eyes are a bright, otherworldly blue, the only source of light against a sea of black scales. Those in turn are a dark, polished obsidian, seeming to blur together despite the bright afternoon light and making it impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Dean grins.

“Fellas”, he says amiably, climbing to his feet. “Meet the hard way“

You’re ridiculous. Castiel grumbles, for Dean’s ears only. And for future, if you intend to end up two-hundred paces south of where we had originally planned, I would appreciate an advanced notice.

“Fine, okay.” Dean mutters out of the corner of his mouth. “May have miscalculated a bit, that’s my bad. Can we focus here?”

Your bad, huh? That’s a novel sentiment. Glowing blue eyes swivel back towards the terrified bandits. Castiel cocks his head, something like amusement coloring his voice. Widening his thoughts to include the men in question, he asks: Should I eat them?

Dean watches in satisfaction as the men visibly pale, seeming to shrink under Castiel’s penetrating gaze.

Dean considers for a minute. “Nah,” he says, finally. “They can run home back to their families, talk about the big scary dragon roaming around, like anyone’ll believe ‘em. Maybe make them piss their pants a little. The usual.”

Fine. Castiel rumbles, and this thought Dean knows is just for him. But I’ll have you know that I’ve had considerably less fun since you showed up.

“Love you too, babe.” Dean says, just to see the split second of utter confusion on the bandits’ faces, their eyes shooting between him and Castiel as if they can’t decide which of them is more terrifying.

As if to help answer their question, Castiel leans down until his snout is inches from the leader, the man going cross eyed trying to keep him in focus. Slowly, Castiel starts to growl, the rumble of it quickly building to a crescendo that drowns out everything around them. His lips curl back to reveal blue flames that spill out of the side of his mouth, curling along his jaw.

I would run now, little ones. Castiel says, raising his foot just slightly.

They don’t need telling twice.

Dean doubles over laughing at the sight of three grown men stumbling over themselves to get as far away as possible. Castiel huffs a breath through his nose, tail flicking in amusement as he watches the bandits disappear over the horizon.

“Think that scared ‘em off for the next decade or so?” Dean asks, brushing dirt of his pants walking over to retrieve the bag Baldy had conveniently left behind.

You’re being too conservative. I’d say twenty is more than likely. Castiel butts him gently with the side of his head. Need a lift?

“Hell yes,” Dean enthuses, scrambling up into the hollow space where Castiel’s neck meets his back.

With a rush of air that buffets all the trees around them, Castiel pushes off from the ground. Once airborne, Dean sighs, stretching out to press his face to the warms scales of Castiel’s neck.

“Missed you,” he murmurs. The sound is lost to beating of Castiel’s wings, but Dean knows from the contended rumble in Castiel’s chest that he heard him.

—

They make it home in record time, Dean somehow managing not to fall asleep and slip off mid-flight. Sliding down from Castiel’s neck, Dean regards their little home fondly, tucked away in the side of a conveniently secluded mountain. It’s small, most rooms consisting of caves Castiel had hollowed out himself, and it’s filled with a collection of odds and ends that Castiel fell in love with and acquired through years. (Himself included, Dean thinks with more than a little amusement.)

To one side there’s a library, complete with the fruits of centuries of Castiel’s labors. Adjoined to it is a kitchen, added later to Dean’s delight and Castiel’s trepidation. Finally, tucked further inside is the bedroom, or what passes for a bedroom when its original owner is a centuries old mythical creature. When Dean had first arrived it was just a pile of soft mosses and other flora that Castiel had seemed content to lounge around on. Then Dean had started sneezing within ten feet of it, and adjustments had to be made. It’s since been converted to a real king size bed, acquired from somewhere Dean really doesn’t want to think too hard about, and the nest of blankets, pillows, and other soft fabrics Castiel managed to procure makes it a fair compromise. All things considered, it’s not a bad place to spend the rest of your life.

There’s a rustling sound behind him, like a thousand wings flapping all at once, and Dean snaps out of his daydream, turning to face his husband.

“Hey, Cas,” he says, as he takes him in. Even after all this time, the fact that this is his life still renders him somewhat breathless. Castiel might be two stories tall with the power to scare entire kingdoms into submission, but it’s Cas who has the perpetual bed-head and quiet smile, the piercing blue eyes that never manage to quite lose that otherworldly blue. Currently, he’s also very naked, so that doesn’t hurt either.

Castiel raises an eyebrow at the blatant once over.

“Hello, Dean,” he rumbles, leaning in for a kiss that Dean returns eagerly.

“Missed me too, huh?” Dean says when he pulls back, grinning.

“I should think that would be obvious,” Castiel says, like that’s not something he could or should be embarrassed about.

Dean smiles at him fondly for a moment, before abruptly remembering the point of the entire ordeal. “Wait,” he says, snapping his fingers. “Before we get side-tracked. I got your stuff back.”

Reaching behind him, he passes the bag to Castiel, who visibly brightens.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel says, the unfiltered joy in his voice never failing to make Dean blush.

“Yeah, sure thing.” Dean scratches at the back of his neck self-consciously. “Don’t think I was able to get all of ‘em, but I figured some were better than none.”

“This is perfect.” Opening the bag, Castiel carefully removes the contents to reveal several black, glittering scales. Individually, he turns each one over in his hands, examining them closely for damage. Presumably deeming them satisfactory, he brushes past Dean, heading over to a box near the corner where he reverently deposits each one.

Dean frowns slightly, watching the entire process. “I gotta say I don’t know what the big deal is. It’s not like we aren’t tripping over those every three feet in here. What’s it matter if some goons want to make off with a few?”

“It’s difficult to explain.” Castiel says, closing the lid of the box carefully and making his way back over. “These scales come from me and by extension they are a part of me. They contain trace amounts of my power which, in the wrong hands, could prove disastrous. Also,” he adds as an afterthought, “I don’t care for anyone but you touching them. It feels…” he frowns, searching for the word before finally settling on: “Wrong.”

Dean grins. “Shucks, Cas. You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

Castiel shoots him an dry look. “My apologies. I didn’t intend for my basic physiological explanation to be misconstrued as a compliment.”

Dean snickers, reaching up to begin the process of shedding his travel gear. When he raises his arms above his head to shrug off his coat, however, a sudden burst of pain has him gasping. Bringing a hand to his side, he grimaces when it comes away bloody.

Castiel is on him in a flash.

“They hurt you.” With a noise that can only be classified as a growl, Castiel drops to his knees, jerking Dean’s coat out of the way in an attempt to locate the issue.

“It’s fine,” Dean lies, wincing as Castiel’s gentle prodding proves fruitful. “The bleeding’s mostly stopped. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

Quickly and efficiently, Castiel tugs off Dean’s outer coat before divesting him of his shirt and undershirt in rapid succession. Carefully, he peels off Dean’s slipshod bandage job and stills at the sight of what lies beneath.

“That bad, huh?” Dean asks, weakly.

He’d caught a glance of it earlier, having ducked behind a tree to hastily place a field dressing. It’s a long cut, starting near the top of his ribcage and traveling to end somewhere above his navel. It had seemed fairly shallow at the time, although- Dean supposes- being hopped up on adrenaline likely hadn’t helped with accuracy. But if Castiel’s continued silence is any answer, apparently it’s a lot worse than it he’d thought.

Using the small basin of water they usually keep in the kitchen (and when did that get there?) Castiel carefully dabs at the wound, cleaning it up to the best of his ability.

Despite himself, Dean flinches, and the look Castiel levels him with could make armies run screaming. The only thing keeping Dean standing is knowing that the rage isn’t directed at him.

“Don’t move.” Castiel orders. “I’m going to get more bandages.” Dutifully, Dean stays as still as he can, and it’s not until Castiel is once again kneeling in front of him that he finds his voice.

“Okay, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not worth it.”

“I disagree.” Castiel says, voice still dangerously calm, but Dean sees his eyes start to glow in that familiar way that means he’s about to start shifting forms and wreaking havoc. “I think the look on their faces as I tear their limbs off one by one will be very worth it.”

“Look, Cas. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t-” Castiel cuts himself off, gritting his teeth. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

“Okay, but… I could have been more careful.” Tentatively, Dean brings a hand down to rest carefully against the side of Castiel’s cheek, relieved when he turns his face into it.

“You’ve never been careful in your life.” Castiel sighs, somewhat ruefully. “It would be foolish of us both to assume you’d start now.”

Dean smiles softly, and after a moment Castiel returns it. “Sounds about right.”

The silence that falls is gentler now, less fraught with worry. Dean watches idly as Castiel works, meticulously stitching up the wound and applying more bandages with the experience of someone who’s done it many times before.

“You know that, out of all humanity, yours is the only opinion I care about,” Castiel says, abruptly, and Dean blinks at the sudden change in subject. “And you also know that I would happily raze entire kingdoms in your name.”

Uncertain as to where this is headed, Dean nods quietly, shifting to card his fingers gently through Castiel’s hair.

”Therefore,” Castiel continues, “if it would make you feel better to let those-”, he breaks off, growling out a world Dean doesn’t understand but assumes form the tone is the highest of insults, “-go, then I shall defer to your judgement.”

“Thanks, babe.” Dean says, eventually, struggling to keep his smile in check and missing by half a mile. “I appreciate you not smiting the entire rest of my species because they were mean to me.”

Castiel nods seriously. “However,” he warns, voice severe again. “If they come back I reserve the right to deal with them as I please.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Dean agrees. Sliding his hand down, he taps Castiel on the cheek. “Alright, babe: how’s it looking?”

“I am almost finished.” Carefully, Castiel tapes the last bandage in place, smoothing it out with his thumb so it rests flat. Rocking back on his heels, he takes a moment to appraise his work. After a moment he nods, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Dean’s side. A quick burst of otherworldly magic shoots out at the touch, jumpstarting the healing process, and Dean shivers for reasons definitely (mostly) medically related. Seemingly satisfied, Castiel rises to his feet with a grunt, drifting comfortably back into Dean’s space until his face is only inches away.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Dean hears himself ask, voice surprisingly hoarse.

Castiel tilts his head. “You’ll live,” he says, solemnly, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief.

“However,” Castiel continues. “I regret to say you will be horribly disfigured. I am afraid I’ll have to leave you for a more appealing mate.”

Gaping, Dean can only stare at him. After a moment, he catches sight of the slight uptick of Castiel’s mouth and everything clicks into place. Cackling, he reaches up to drop his arms around Castiel’s neck.

“Was that a joke?” Dean asks, unable to keep the delight out of his voice. “A genuine human interaction? You’re getting better at this.”

Castiel brightens, his entire demeanor shifting as he moves to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist. “Was it adequate?” He asks, somewhat shyly. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Your expertise is astounding.” Dean says. “Let me give it a test run.”

Leaning forward, Dean noses at the side of Castiel’s jaw, sliding up until his mouth is ghosting across his ear.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” Dean breathes, watching in satisfaction as Castiel shivers. “Would you be willing to let me make it up to you?”

Castiel smirks at him, eyes dark. This, at least, is a human interaction in which he’s very well-versed. Dean lets himself be tugged into the bedroom, and he’s still snickering up until the moment Castiel pushes him (gently) down onto the edge of the bed before unceremoniously crawling into his lap.

Dean lets out a sigh, hands coming up to settle firmly on Castiel’s hips, tugging him in closer. Any lingering amusement fading to be replaced with something slow and warm that builds low in his gut and spreads its way through the rest of him.

Reaching forward, Castiel fits his hand around Dean’s jaw, thumbing distracting at the corner of his mouth. Then, he leans in close, knocking their foreheads together:

“I’m sure I could be persuaded.”

.

.

.

.

.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed!): @mishtho, @sudo-apt-get-destiel, @charmedbycastiel, @feraladoration

[youcancallmeelle]

Pleasant Surprise // Hungry Eyes prompt: Part 1 of 2

Read Hungry Eyes here

I wasn’t stupid; I knew when something was up with Rosie.

I was immediately suspicious when I’d find her hunched over the toilet and throwing up everything she’d consumed, always in the early evening.

She also refused to let me anywhere above her waist which was also a massive giveaway, combine those two symptoms with the fact she hadn’t sent me out for tampons in over two months then it was a pretty clear indication that something wasn’t right.

This had been happening for the last two weeks and tonight was no different; I’d put Freya to bed and found her leaning over the toilet.

I rushed to pull her hair from her face, she spluttered and heaved into the porcelain bowl.

“You good?” I asked her once she’d finished gagging; she made a noise and shut the lid; flushing the toilet and taking a seat on it with her head down and between her legs.

“Stupid food poisoning.” She muttered, rubbing her face.

“Funny how this food poisoning has lasted for two weeks and seems to strike at the same time everyday, if I didn’t know any better then I’d say you were pregnant again.” I accused, she shook her head rapidly and pushed me away so she could stand up.

“No, it’s definitely food poisoning.” She shot back, rinsing her mouth out with toothpaste and glaring at me through the mirror.

Rosie left the bathroom with me on her heels; she strolled into our kitchen to begin tidying up.

“Hey, fancy a beer? Wine? Rum and coke?” I tested, crossing my arms and facing her from behind the counter.

“No thanks, I’m not thirsty.” She replied, shooting me a look and beginning to spray down our counter from where we’d had dinner as a family.

“Right, so it’s not because you think you might be pregnant?”

“Nope.”

It wasn’t hard to decipher that she was lying through her teeth, we’d been together long enough and I’d spent enough time with her to know when she was talking out of her backside.

I decided to try another approach, one she usually couldn’t resist.

“You know, I’m so up for some sexy time with you.” I told her in the huskiest voice I could muster, stalking around the counter to wrap my arms around her slim waist.

I began pressing kisses along her shoulder and over the curve of her neck, my hands glided under her jumper and up to her boobs, she pulled away before I could touch them and I smiled triumphantly.

“I’m not in the mood.” She dismissed, continuing to potter around our kitchen.

“That’s how I know you’re lying, you’re always in the mood. Are your boobs hurting by any chance?” I pressed further, tilting my head and watching her bite her lip anxiously.

“Okay, Sweets! You win!” She quietly yelled at me, throwing the rag she’d been using in my direction. “There’s a good chance I’m pregnant again.”

“You think so?” I scoffed; she looked at me guiltily as I stalked out of the kitchen to grab from keys from the small table in the hallway.

“Where are you going?” She called after me; her arms limp at her side while I pulled my jacket on.

“To the drugstore!”

I left Rosie at home and drove to our nearest drugstore; I was beyond over faced when I found myself in the aisle that was stacked with a multitude of condoms, lube, ovulation kits and pregnancy tests.

There were tests for an early response, digital and even a fancy kind that told you how many weeks you were; I recognized this type from when Rosie had discovered she was pregnant with Freya. I scratched the back of my head as my eyes wandered over the different options, who knew there were even so many?

I shrugged and grabbed a box of two; I took them to the counter and promptly threw some notes at the cashier in my need to get home to Rosie.

When I got back she was sat at the kitchen counter with her hand wrapped a large glass of water that was nearly empty, she looked at me nervously when I handed her the simple package.

“Take them now.” I demanded and she shook her head at me with big eyes.

“I don’t want to.”

“Rosie, come on.” I urged, taking her hand and pulled her off the stool she was on; wasting no time in pushing her into the bathroom.

She gave in and slammed the door behind her, I braced myself opposite the bathroom and waited for her to finish doing what she needed to; after a few minutes I heard the tap run and the door creaked open to reveal a very stressed looking Rosie as she motioned for me to step in the small room with her and close the door behind us so we didn’t wake up Freya.

“How long do we have to wait?” I quizzed and looked over the two tests that were sat on the bathroom counter while they developed.

“Three minutes.” She answered and looked over the back of the box that told us what they results meant and how they’d be displayed.

One line for negative.

Two lines for positive.

“This is longest three minutes ever, was it this long when you were waiting last time?” I complained, Rosie glared at me with her hands on her hips.

“Yes, it was and it felt like a lifetime back then too! Only you wouldn’t know because you weren’t there, you were probably practicing your pyrotechnic skills with Fangs! I’m actually having flashbacks.” Rosie stammered, she began pacing the short length of the bathroom so fast that it was making me dizzy.

“Will you calm down? I’m pretty sure we already know the answer.” I chuckled and reached out for her, pulling her onto my knee where I was perched on the edge of our bathtub.

“I feel like I’m sixteen again, like I should be in a bathroom stall and back in high school.”

“You’re twenty one, you’re acting like this is the end of the world.”

“I know, but we’ve never really discussed having more kids.” Rosie told me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and resting her chin on my head. “I always thought that we’d actively try for another baby, not end up being shocked when it happened.”

“I’ve always wanted more kids.”

“Kids? Pfft! If you’ve got me pregnant again then this is the last one I’m having, I’m serious.”

“What if you end up having twins? Or triplets? Or even quadruplets?” I gasped as I poked fun at her and she pinched my arm in retaliation.

“Stop, Sweets! You’re freaking me out!”

I laughed at her horrified expression and kissed her bottom lip, we sat for a few more minutes before I realized that the tests were probably ready and could be looked at.

“Ready?” I inquired and she nodded slowly, I leant over from the bath and grabbed the two tests in my hand.

“I’m too scared to look, you do it.” She pleaded, putting her hands over her eyes and I looked down at them with a neutral expression on my face.

“They’re negative.”

“What? Really?” Rosie frowned and uncovered her face, trying to reach for the pieces of plastic. “They can’t be.”

“No, Rosie. They’re both positive, we’re having another baby.” I grinned happily, giving her the pregnancy tests.

“Oh my god, that’s a really dangerous game to play, Sweets.” Rosie breathed and stood up from my lap, looking down at the tests and seeing two, very bold, pink lines that were displayed in each of the square windows. “Jesus Christ, I’m pregnant.”

“You certainly are, I’ll accept your thank you later.” I teased and pulled Rosie into my chest, ducking down to kiss her deeply in my delight, threading my fingers through her long hair.

“I wish I’d have gotten that reaction from you the last time I told you I was pregnant.” She panted and pushed on my chest, her lips plump.

        ************************************************************************

Later that night, Rosie and I were lay in bed; I was spooning her with both my arms around her as we got used to the idea that our family of three would soon become a family of four.

“Do you think we should tell people now or after our first scan?” Rosie wondered out loud, I shrugged my shoulders.

“It’s up to you.”

“I don’t know, I’m just scared to tell people and then for something to go wrong… I bled with Freya and we thought I’d lost her, that was way after my chances of miscarrying dropped.” She whispered sadly and I held her tighter, pressing my lips to her shoulder.

“Everything’s going to be fine, baby.” I reassured her, she relaxed under my hold.

“Are you going to be disappointed if it’s not a boy?”

“Why would I be dissapointed? I love my girls and having another will certainly make my life more fun, I’d have three to protect and hide from the male species.”

“You do know that one day your daughter will have a boyfriend, right? And there’s going to be nothing you can do about it.” Rosie giggled when I growled in response, denying the fact my first-born, little girl would ever grow up.

“I’ve already told her she’s never allowed to date, there won’t be any boys in her future.”

“You’re crazy, Sweets.”

“I think we should make the time to finally get married before the baby comes, you’ve kept me waiting long enough.” I told her, stroking her hand and admiring the dainty ring that I’d placed on her finger 3 years ago on her eighteenth birthday.

“It doesn’t look good if I’m walking down the aisle when pregnant, people will think we’ve got married because you knocked me up.”

“You’ll just have to suck it in.” I joked, running my hand under her t-shirt and feeling the firm skin of her lower stomach.

“I don’t like you right now.”

“It’s not my fault you’re incredibly fertile, it’s been five years since the last oops arrived though and that’s pretty good going, don’t you think? Anyway, I think you liking me too much is the reason we’re in this predicament again.” I teased her, running my hand over her hip.

“You’ve never been less funny.” Rosie uttered, rolling over to mount my hips and kiss me.

“You sure? What about the first time I got you pregnant? You seemed pretty pissed back then, I distinctively remember you screaming at me a lot.” I grinned against her lips and gave her backside a good squeeze. “Isn’t it ironic how we’re going to celebrate you getting pregnant by having sex?”

I practically heard Rosie roll her eyes at me as she moved to kiss my jaw and down my neck, my eyes closed at the sensation but the pleasure didn’t last long before I heard the sound of footsteps approaching our bedroom.

Rosie heard them too and climbed off me in a hurry because when you have children you quickly develop bat like hearing or you learn the hard way when you’re in the middle of a compromising situation, it’s never fun trying to make up an excuse as to what you were doing.

Our door handle turned and it opened a crack before I saw Freya try and slyly sneak in without making too much noise but this plan backfired the minute she clumsily climbed onto our bed and noticed we were still awake.

“You should be in bed, you have school in the morning.” I told her sternly but lifted the covers so she could slide under after she’d given me the look that always turned me to putty in her hands.

“I couldn’t sleep, Daddy.”

“You can stay here for awhile then, Daddy will put you back to bed once you’ve fallen asleep.” Rosie told her and looked at me, motioning the words ‘tell her’ to me silently.

I coughed and cleared my throat, peering down at Freya whose attention was on her bunny, the same one she’d had from birth.

“How do you feel about adding another member to our family?” I asked my daughter, she made an over exaggerated thinking face while she took in my words.

“Are we getting a bunny?” She quizzed, looking up at me hopefully while Rosie smiled from behind her.

“No, but you’re never going to stop asking for one are you?” I sighed, she shook her head rapidly.

“What about a little brother or sister?” Rosie interjected and Freya turned to face her, confusion evident on her face. “Mommy’s having another baby.” She finished; I studied Freya for her reaction.

“I’m getting a brother or sister?” Freya boldly asked Rosie who nodded and pushed our daughters fringe away from her face.

“Yes, you are, sweetheart.”

“Is the baby a surprise like I was?” My breath caught in my throat at her seemingly innocent question, Rosie gaped at her.

“Who told you that?” I gawked and Freya turned back at me with a shrug, she pouted at my unimpressed expression because she seemed to think I was angry with her.

“Uncle Fangs.” She revealed and looked between Rosie and I, not understanding why we looked so shocked at her revelation. “Is Uncle Fangs in trouble?”

“I’m gonna kill him.” I whispered to Rosie, she was trying to hide a grin at the current situation.

“Can I have a sister?”

“Mommy can’t choose what it is, we have to let nature decide that one.” Rosie answered and Freya frowned before cuddling under the covers with her soft bunny toy in her arms.

“Daddy?” Freya piped up, curling into my side cutely and shoving her hand in my hair and face in my neck as she let out a big yawn. “Daddy, where do babies come from?”

My face paled at her question and Rosie let out a giggle, trying to stifle a laugh under the comforter while I stuttered like an idiot to my five year old daughter.

“Daddy doesn’t know where babies come from, maybe that’s why all my children have been surprises.” I lied and I felt the bed shake while Rosie let out a chortle, I let out a loud exhale and to my relief Freya didn’t press the subject further because by the time I’d finished my sentence; she’d fallen fast asleep between us.

“You’re so going to hell.” Rosie giggled quietly, peering at me from over Freya’s sleeping body.

“She put me on the spot, what was I supposed to say?!” I defended, trying to get comfortable around my little girl who always insisted on smothering me in her sleep.

“Maybe not that she was an accident.”

          **********************************************************************

Two months later Rosie and I were at our second scan, we were finally finding out what the sex of our second child was and I don’t think I’d ever been so excited; obviously with the exception of finding out what Freya was.

“So, you guys already have a daughter?” The midwife asked us as she began to prepare Rosie by lifting her top up and exposing her small bump, squirting the sonogram gel on to her skin and pressing the probe over her abdomen.

“Yeah, we do.” Rosie answered her, giving my hand a gentle squeeze at the sight of our baby on the screen who was wriggling up a storm.

“Everything’s looking really good, Rosie. Baby’s the correct size and very active by the looks of it, they’ve got very long legs like Daddy.” She chuckled, watching the baby kick out. “Do you want to know what you’re having?”

“Definitely.” Rosie giggled and I pressed my lips to her hand, the anticipation was killing me while we waited for the midwife to finalize her decision.

“It looks like your girl gang is going to be growing by one more, I hope you’re ready to be outnumbered even more, Dad. You’re both having an extremely healthy baby girl.” She revealed and Rosie gasped excitedly while I chuckled in disbelief, unable to believe I was actually having another little girl.

Another daughter.

Holy fuck, I’m in trouble.

[quicksilversquared]

How to Fake a Marriage (Chapter 3)

Adrien Agreste is excited to go to London to get a degree in Physics- but he’s less excited about the ridiculous list of rules his father keeps giving him, especially since it’s clear that his father doesn’t trust his judgement at all. So what better way to rebel than to fake a wedding with one of his friends as soon as he gets to London? 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

(AO3) (FF.net)

Nino let out a groan as he stumbled to the kitchen table. He hated Mondays, mostly because he hadn't yet broken his habit of staying up far too late on the weekends and so his sleeping schedule got thrown off. He was basically sleepwalking as he slumped into his chair and opened his laptop to peruse his Facebook feed while Alya toasted bread for their breakfast.

"What's new?" Alya called over her shoulder as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Anything interesting?"

Nino scanned the page with sleepy eyes, brain not quite comprehending the words in front of him yet. He needed his coffee first. "Uh. Ivan and Mylène posted new photos, Alex challenged Kim to a race, Nathaniel shared a drawing, Adrien changed his status to 'Married to Marinette Dupain-Cheng', Rose joined a scrapbooking club, Marinette-"

Alya choked and spat out her coffee all over the counter. "WHAT?"

Nino blinked up, puzzled at the scene in front of him. Coffee was dripping from the kitchen counter and had drenched the toast Alya had already made. "Huh?"

"What was that last one?" Alya demanded.

Nino consulted his computer, puzzled. "Rose joined a scrapbooking club?"

"No, before that!"

Nino looked again. "'Adrien changed his status to 'Married to Marinette Dupain-Cheng'- WHAT?" Nino exclaimed, suddenly awake as he jolted in his seat and stared at his computer screen in shock. "He did what?"

"He must just be kidding," Alya said as she hurried over to Nino's side. "What does Mari's profile say?"

Nino clicked on a few links as he maneuvered to Marinette's page and then he squinted at it. "Her status says...Married to Adrien Agreste. She changed her photo, too. Look."

Alya gaped as she plopped down in the seat next to Nino. Marinette's Facebook page had changed drastically from the previous day. Her cover photo, previously of the London skyline, had changed to a photo with her, Adrien, and three other girls and three guys. Marinette was wearing a blue wedding dress and Adrien wore a tux, and the others were just as dressed up. Marinette had a bouquet of white flowers in one hand. Her profile picture was a close-up of her and Adrien in their wedding attire.

That was definitely not photoshopped.

Adrien's page looked almost exactly the same as Marinette's. He used slightly different photos, though, and his profile photo was of him dipping Marinette into what was possibly the most romantic kiss they had ever seen.

"Bro," Nino said in absolute disbelief as Alya clicked through Adrien's posted photos. There were photos that had clearly been taken throughout the wedding, including one that had him and Marinette signing something and looking very cuddly as they did so.

"I can't believe it," Alya said, pausing on the photo. She looked like she was about to murder someone. "They actually got married. They signed a wedding license. What were they thinking? And why couldn't they even wait long enough to invite us and Marinette's parents?"

"Babe-"

"I DID NOT BUST MY BUTT TRYING TO SET THEM UP FOR YEARS ON END JUST FOR THEM TO ELOPE AND NOT INVITE ME TO THEIR WEDDING!"

  Gabriel didn't check in on his son until two o'clock on Monday. He pulled up Adrien's Facebook page, expecting to see a couple new pictures of the apartment, maybe a status update on how the move went.

He was not expecting to see Adrien dressed in a tuxedo, standing next to a girl in a wedding dress and with the rest of a wedding party around them.

Gabriel gaped at the pictures as his brain shut down and refused to work. After a second, he scrolled down frantically, looking for some sort of explanation that would tell him that Adrien had gotten caught up in some elaborate ruse of some sort.

Instead, Adrien's most recent post read, "Just ran into her yesterday and we decided we had to get married! 3"

Gabriel's jaw dropped and he stared, mind stalling out. No. No way. There was absolutely no way.

"Are you okay, sir?" Nathalie asked as she entered the room with a pile of papers. She frowned when she saw Gabriel's mouth hanging open as he stared blankly at his computer screen. "Sir?"

"He got married," Gabriel said in disbelief after a long pause. "He got married to someone he hadn't even known for twenty-four hours."

That got Nathalie's attention and she hurried over to join Gabriel, dropping the forms on her desk as she did. "Who did?"

"Adrien did!" Gabriel gestured to the computer, tone starting to turn just a bit hysterical. "Look, he posted the photos! He didn't even said anything to me first, or I would have put a stop to it!"

"Tha...that was probably why he didn't say anything, sir," Nathalie managed. She was absolutely stunned as well. She had known Adrien for years and he had never seemed the impulsive type. His escapes, from everything from going to public school to slipping away from his bodyguard to go to a movie, were planned out in advance. He had a plan for everything, and he almost always considered the possible long-term consequences for his actions.

Getting married the day after moving to another country to a girl that he had only just met was decidedly out of character, to say the least.

"I need to get over there now," Gabriel decided, slapping the desk and bringing her attention back to him. "Nathalie, find plane tickets for both of us. We're going to go over there, figure out what's going on, and bring Adrien back. Oh, I knew this was a bad idea..."

Nathalie watched as Gabriel clutched at his hair, launching himself out of his desk chair and pacing back and forth across the room. As he started spinning in panicked circles, Nathalie turned her attention to Adrien's Facebook page. She couldn't spot any obvious signs of Photoshop having been used on the photos, and there were enough pictures that Nathalie strongly doubted that they were fake. The same photos were on the girl's page, and a dive a little deeper into her archives showed that the account wasn't at all new and that it was the same girl in both the wedding photos and in the earlier photos.

Nathalie bit her lip as her stomach filled with nerves. She had been hoping to find some sort of evidence that the photos were faked, but the evidence was piling up that Adrien had, in fact, gotten married after being in London for not even a day. The photos showed absolutely no evidence of photoshopping (and after years of working as Gabriel's personal assistant, Nathalie knew full well what to look for), the girl's account wasn't a fake either.

This was bad. This was very bad. Even ignoring how out of character this seemed for Adrien- was there some sort of blackmail involved? Coercion?- this was bad. The wedding would have all sorts of consequences that Nathalie was positive that Adrien wouldn't be able to handle. The cost to put it all together so quickly must have been absolutely staggering. The dresses and tuxes by themselves must have cost a pretty penny, considering that they were obviously designer, and what were the chances that Adrien had thought to rent the pieces instead of buying them? And on top of that they would have had to rush order the minister, the flowers the cake, the photographer, and reserve the clearly private garden.

Last minute rush orders for things like that did not come cheap. Nathalie knew that well after arranging for far too many last-minute changes for Gabriel photoshoots. And she doubted that Adrien's new wife had paid for any of it. Adrien had probably just volunteered to cover everything, bleeding heart that he was, and the little gold-digger had probably just happily accepted it.

Nathalie groaned as she returned to Adrien's page and saw a brand new post on the top. This one had a video and a caption of "Some wonderful people took a video of our special day so we could share it with everyone who wasn't there! Apologies for not inviting friends and family back in Paris, but we just couldn't wait! 3".

Nathalie was tempted to strangle Adrien the next time she saw him. Of all the irresponsible things...

She could already foresee the headaches sorting out this whole mess would cause.

  The Dupain-Chengs had not been expecting their daughter to call them up Sunday morning with the news that she was getting married to her collège crush. She had explained that it was fake right off the bat, of course, but still. Unexpected.

And also very, very amusing.

Marinette had sent them updates via text all day Sunday as their little 'fake wedding at the courthouse' turned into 'impromptu ceremony in a garden complete with wedding dress'. Her parents had become more and more amused as things got more and more complicated.

"Ooh, they got some really nice photos," Sabine said gleefully as she opened the folder of photos Marinette had uploaded to her Facebook Monday morning. "Ooh, look at her dress! I can't believe her boss let her borrow that. It's gorgeous."

"She should ask if she can borrow it in the future when she and the boy get married for real," Tom said with a grin, leaning over Sabine's shoulder to get a better look at the photos. "It looks good on her. Are you texting her? Tell her I send my compliments to whoever did her hair."

"It does look really nice," Sabine agreed, sending the message. "And her makeup as well! Of course Marinette did say that her boss called in some of the company's hair and makeup people."

"Mmm." Tom grinned at the series of photos of Adrien and Marinette's dip kiss. "Aww, so cute!"

"I'm downloading all of these," Sabine claimed with a grin. "All of them. And my phone background is going to be this picture, right here. They look so into that kiss."

"I'm posting my congratulations," Tom said, grin spreading even further across his face as he reached for the computer. "Be the proud dad that doesn't question his daughter's decisions at all. It'll confuse everyone."

Sabine giggled as she gave up the computer so Tom could type comments for each of the photos. He started with the cover photo and Marinette's profile photo before putting little proud comments on every photo in the wedding album. With another mischievous grin, Tom headed over to Adrien's profile and posted a few "I can't wait to meet my son-in-law!" comments on his page as well for good measure.

"So how long do you give them before they get married for real?" Sabine asked as they closed the computer and washed their hands before heading back into the bakery. "Two years? Three?"

"You really think it'll take that long?"

  Marinette and Adrien were having a very amusing day.

Texts, emails, and phone calls had been pouring from friends and family alike all day, ever since they posted the photos and changed their Facebook status. They gleefully ignored them, letting the confusion increase in favor of pretending they were too busy "honeymooning" to respond.

Of course, they were actually both working for Madam Rosalie- Marinette as an intern, and Adrien in the office filing paperwork as thanks for all of the help Madam Rosalie had supplied- but no one needed to know that.

"Oh, I got a comment from your dad!" Adrien said with a grin when they checked their Facebooks over lunch. "He said, 'I can't wait to meet my son-in-law! Lovely photos!' Nice man. I'm glad I have him as a fake father-in-law."

Marinette giggled. "Ooh, I wonder what Alya and Nino made of that."

Adrien grinned. "Oh, I bet their faces would be precious." He let out a snort at another comment and continued scrolling down. "I'm actually kind of concerned how many people I know actually think I would up and get married to a random person I supposedly met not even a day prior. I mean, I can kind of understand some of our friends from collège and lycée believing us since they know that we knew each other, but I'm getting congratulations from my photographer and a bunch of the models I work with, too...and from the Gorilla? Seriously? I thought he would know me better than that. I thought that he would recognize you for sure."

Marinette peered over his shoulder at his phone. "Any word from your father yet?"

Adrien shook his head. "Nope. I'm guessing that he's been too busy to check my Facebook yet. I'm sure I'll know the minute he sees it."

"What have you been doing for Madam Rosalie?" Marinette asked, changing the subject. "I haven't seen you all morning!"

"Oh, I've been neglecting you, my princess!" Adrien exclaimed grandly with a wide grin, grasping Marinette's hand and planting a kiss on her knuckles with a deep bow. "What kind of man does that to his brand-new fake wife?"

Marinette snickered.

"I've been putting my business degree to work and doing some paperwork for her," Adrien said with a little wince, releasing her hand and straightening back up again. "It's not my favorite thing ever, but it's not particularly difficult either. I'm just glad that she's letting me do something for in return for all the help she gave us yesterday. I'm sure she lost a bit of time getting that all set up for us."

"That was insane," Marinette agreed with a groan. "Everything really looked fantastic, though. I'm glad she helped out, even if it did take up several more hours of my weekend than I had planned for it to."

"I'm really sorry about dragging you into all of this," Adrien apologized immediately with a grimace. "I didn't expect for it to take so long either-"

"Really, it's fine," Marinette said hurriedly, before Adrien could get too far into his apologies. She had learned long ago that he had a tendency to overthink and get too worried about offending or inconveniencing others, and it was best to make sure that he didn't get too caught up in his (often unnecessary) concern. "I had fun, I really did. I would've just watched cooking show reruns all afternoon if I hadn't run into you."

"And quite literally as well," Adrien said, grinning and pressing his lips to Marinette's hand again. She groaned at the joke and pushed his face away with a finger on his nose. "Shall we get back to work?"

"I suppose."

  Shortly after two, Adrien's phone lit up again. He glanced at it briefly before going back to his work sorting through the pile of forms on Marinette's desk, certain that it was probably just Nino or Alya again. And then it lit up again.

And again.

And again.

"Ah, I think Father maybe has noticed my Facebook post," Adrien said mildly as the texts continued to pile up, along with several missed calls. "And Nathalie has as well, it seems."

"Oh, great," Marinette said, appearing in the doorway. She set a fresh stack of papers down at the end of the desk. "Did the trick work?"

"It did. I'm almost a little offended that he honestly thinks that I would be stupid enough to marry someone I just met," Adrien said, watching his phone as the string of texts kept piling up. "And Nathalie believes me as well! Do none of my father's staff actually know me well enough to know that I would never do that? And never mind that, don't any of them remember you? I could understand my dad not recognizing you, but Nathalie and the Gorilla both met all of my friends loads of times."

Marinette giggled. "Are you still getting texts from Nino and Alya as well?"

"I don't even know. Father is burying everything in his freak-out texts and I had stopped checking earlier. If I looked at my messages every time I got a new one, I wouldn't get anything done." Adrien grinned as he set the phone aside and pulled Marinette down into his lap for a hug. "How long should we let him simmer before we let him know we were kidding?"

Marinette bit her lip, thinking for a long second. "A day? I feel like any longer and he would freak out enough that the tabloids would catch on."

Adrien snickered. Marinette gave him a look.

"We don't need the tabloids trying to report on our nonexistent marriage," Marinette scolded him, though her lips were twitching in amusement. "They would never leave us alone again and I'd like to be able to complete my internship in peace, thank you very much."

"Ah, fair enough." Adrien checked his phone again before tucking it away out of sight. Really, this was the best reaction he could have hoped for. He had been a bit worried that his father would see right through him and render the whole effort useless, but it seemed that his concerns had been completely unfounded. "So, do you think my father will be able to get a plane over today, or is it late enough in the day that he won't be able to get a flight until tomorrow?"

  "What on earth could he have been thinking?" Gabriel exclaimed for the millionth time the next morning, more frustrated and impatient now that he was stuck on a plane and couldn't pace and shout without attracting attention from the other passengers. Gabriel Agreste didn't do attracting judging stares from strangers. He gestured to the photos filling Adrien's Facebook page yet again, as though Nathalie hadn't seen them a dozen times before. "He only knew her for a few hours! Oh, I knew I shouldn't have let him go off on his own..."

Nathalie, who had recognized Marinette Dupain-Cheng quite easily after the initial shock had finally worn off (several hours after initially seeing the post, but she wasn't about to admit that), didn't bother to correct Gabriel. She had analyzed the photos and Adrien's post again once her head was clearer (and then she headed back over to Marinette's Facebook page to check it against Adrien's again) and come to the conclusion that it was simply an elaborately staged prank. Adrien's wording was a little too perfect at suggesting he hadn't known Marinette for long when in reality they had known each other for years, and Marinette's page said nothing about only knowing Adrien for a few hours. Still, Nathalie wasn't going to alert Gabriel to her suspicions. She might be wrong, after all.

(Besides, Gabriel had gone a little overboard in his list of Do's and Do Not's for his son and watching his cool demeanor melt to pieces was amusing. As long as this was a prank, Nathalie heartily approved.)

(And, well, even if it wasn't…Miss Dupain-Cheng seemed to be quite a nice young lady, and she and Adrien had known each other for a while. It would be weird for them to skip over dating to go straight to marriage, but it wouldn't be the disaster Nathalie had initially assumed it would be.)

"I should have checked his page earlier in the day yesterday," Gabriel groaned, falling back in his seat with a thud. Thankfully the other passengers in first class had long since decided to ignore them. "Then we could have actually gotten a flight yesterday instead of having to wait."

Nathalie didn't respond. She personally didn't think the twenty hour delay would really make that much of a difference- after all, if Adrien was in fact married, there was nothing they could do about it now; if not, they had wasted money on airline tickets for nothing but it wasn't as though Gabriel's budget couldn't handle the cost. Adrien hadn't responded to the texts she had sent before they boarded the plane, giving him a heads-up that she and his father were coming.

Of course, Adrien could have responded while they were stuck in the plane. Nathalie wouldn't know for sure until the plane landed and she could turn her phone back on. Not having service was making her twitchy.

"Or we could have driven to London instead," Gabriel said, shifting anxiously in his seat and tapping his fingers restlessly against the armrest. "It would have been, what? Five hours, six hours?"

"Slightly over six with good traffic," Nathalie said without looking up. "And no offense, sir, but you get impatient enough on a one-hour plane ride even when Adrien isn't doing stupid things. You hate car rides longer than half an hour."

Gabriel grumbled under his breath and slumped in his seat. He corrected his posture a moment later and pulled out a notebook, stress doodling on a blank page. He didn't say much for the rest of the flight, though he did mutter under his breath quite a bit. As soon as they landed and had stopped at the gate, Gabriel was up and headed for the door, leaving Nathalie to snag their bags from the overhead bins before hurrying after him.

Gabriel powerwalked through the airport, sending people scattering to get out of his way. He summoned a cab with a couple sharp words (because Gabriel Agreste did not take public transportation, no matter how much cabs cost), and soon they were zipping off towards the neighborhood Adrien's apartment was in. Nathalie turned on her phone as soon as she was settled in her seat and frantically flipped through the messages that had piled up. All of them were work-related, most from having to reschedule the few meetings that Gabriel absolutely had to attend and that had been abruptly canceled and a few other messages from the inters that she had selected to attend other meetings and take notes for Gabriel to review later. With a sign, Nathalie finished scanning through them and stuck her phone back in her pocket. The meetings could wait; after all, she didn't know for sure how soon they would be able to head back to Paris.

Nathalie pulled her phone back out as it let out another chime, the custom one she had set up just for messages from Adrien. She raised her eyebrows at the dual texts from Adrien- 'Just made new Facebook post' and 'At Madam Rosalie's fashion business'- before setting the phone aside and navigating to Adrien's page on her tablet. He had posted another photo, set in the same park as before, and with the same wedding party as before. This time, there were more people in the photo, including quite a few in streetwear, and a woman Nathalie recognized as Madam Rosalie. The caption read: 'Thanks to everyone who helped us pull off the impromptu wedding! In case you haven't already guessed, it was completely fake. I'm slightly concerned by how many people thought we weren't kidding though! :D'.

Nathalie was torn between letting out a huff of exasperation and a relieved sigh at the confirmation that Adrien had not lost all of his common sense after all. She suspected that the timing of the prank reveal probably wasn't coincidental; after all, the best way to stop Gabriel from going on a rampage through London looking for his son was to come clean. She suspected that Adrien probably had anticipated this exact reaction from his father and had pulled the prank with the intention of provoking him, but she wasn't about to admit that to Gabriel.

"Adrien has posted something new on Facebook, sir," Nathalie said, holding out her tablet a bit gingerly. Mr. Agreste probably wouldn't break it in frustration. Probably. Hopefully. "You might want to read it."

"More photos with his new wife?" Still, Gabriel took the tablet without complaint, though there was a deep scowl on his face. "He should know better, she's probably some gold-digging floozy- oh."

Nathalie allowed her lips to twitch upwards before resuming her professionally blank expression.

"Ha-ha, very funny." Gabriel sounded completely unamused. "Very mature."

"They did a really good job setting it up," Nathalie said. It was impressive, really, even if it did look like most of the crew involved were involved in fashion and were probably used to staging things for photoshoots and runway shows. They were probably used to setting things up and making them look convincing on short notice.

"I suppose." Gabriel still didn't sound impressed and the scowl was still in place, though it was somewhat diminished. "I still fail to see why it was necessary."

Nathalie really didn't think it was that difficult to figure out. "Adrien probably decided to rebel against all of the rules you set for him. Technically, you didn't forbid him from getting married. Or from pretending to get married." She glanced back down at her phone and leaned forward to tap the cab driver's shoulder. "Change of destination to Rosalie Fashions. Adrien sent me a text," she explained to Gabriel.

"Right." Gabriel handed her tablet back over to her and settled back into his seat, displeased expression still firmly in place. "Let's go talk to my son."

  It was shortly after noon on Tuesday when Nino picked Alya up from work for a quick picnic in the park. As expected, Alya immediately dove back into their discussion about Adrien and Marinette, picking up right where they had left off that morning.

"I wish we could have gone over to Tom and Sabine's bakery," Alya grumbled as Nino spread out their blanket on the grass. "Did you see Tom's comments on Marinette's page? He was totally fine with Marinette getting married in a foreign country with absolutely no warning!"

"I'm guessing that either Marinette called him beforehand or he already had words with her but wanted to put up a positive front in public view," Nino said reassuringly, hoping to get Alya to calm down. The surprise marriage was all Alya had talked about ever since they had seen the post, and Tom Dupain's comments had only served to add fuel to the fire. Alya was absolutely speechless that Marinette's parents didn't seem to have any problem with it, as was Nino. It was just weird. "Or he didn't want to create bad blood with them. Maybe they'll have another ceremony in Paris so we can actually go in person and see them instead of watching a video."

The video, which had dispelled all doubts about the legitimacy of the photos. It had been a lovely ceremony, no doubt, which made Nino wonder how on earth they had pulled that off on such short notice. Adrien didn't know anyone there besides Marinette and Marinette had only been there for a short while, so they couldn't have possibly made that many connections already. Maybe they had gone to a wedding planner. Nino wouldn't put it past Adrien; his best friend was a romantic at heart and would no doubt want the best for his bride, even if he had to pay a ton to get things done on such short notice.

Also, Nino wasn't completely convinced that Adrien was used to being concerned about money. Since Adrien came from such a rich family, he never seemed to flinch at the cost of anything. Hopefully Marinette could help him get better at managing his money before Adrien accidentally spent himself into a hole.

"And he posted on Adrien's page, too! Calling him his son-in-law! Did you see that?" Alya was on a roll. "And a bunch of models from Gabriel were commenting and congratulating him! For eloping! Some of them thought that he had only known Marinette for a day and they still thought it was super cool!"

"Models are cray-cray." Nino had thought that was weird, too, but maybe eloping with people they just met was normal behavior in the model world. He wouldn't know. He had only accompanied Adrien to a couple photoshoots before, and they had been ages ago. He hadn't really talked to many on the models there besides Adrien either.

"And I still can't get a response out of either of them!" Alya finished indignantly. "What are they doing?"

"Do you really want to know?" Nino asked dryly. If Marinette and Adrien had just gotten married, they could very well have decided to have an express staycation honeymoon before Adrien's orientation for classes started on Wednesday. He would rather not think about it. After all, it was their best friends that they were talking about. He didn't want to know what they were or weren't getting up to.

"I want to know what's going on! How on earth could they go for years and years knowing each other and not dating and then they just happen to bump into each other in London and decide to get married right off the bat? It's absolutely crazy!"

Nino's phone beeped with an alert and he pulled it out as Alya continued to grumble. A new Facebook post had shown up on his feed, so he clicked on it as Alya snarled about the injustices of the shotgun wedding. Another photo of Marinette and Adrien's wedding came up, filled with the whole wedding party and a handful of other people, including...Marinette's boss?

Confused, Nino scrolled down to see the caption.

"'Thanks to everyone who helped us pull off the impromptu wedding! In case you haven't already guessed, it was completely fake. I'm slightly concerned by how many people thought we weren't kidding though!' Smiley face. What the hell, Adrien?" Nino exclaimed, cutting across whatever Alya was saying. "What made him think that that was a good idea?"

Alya froze mid-sentence, her hands paused mid-gesture. "What?"

"It was a fake! Adrien just made a post about it." Nino passed his phone over to her. "That jerk! That's a crazy prank."

"Ooh! I can't believe them!" Alya was still steaming, even as Nino chuckled over the prank. It was really clever, now that he thought about it, and wow had they ever executed it well. He had absolutely zero idea how Adrien had managed to pull that off within 24 hours of getting to London. There were just so many details, from the dress and tux and flowers to the cleric and the flower gardens, all without alerting the press. Alya had figured out the previous night that the wedding party was made up of assorted people that Marinette worked with (a fact that irritated Alya to no end, since she should have been the Maid of Honor), so they probably had been easy to get a hold of, but the cleric? The garden? The designer dresses?

Absolutely insane. Nino wasn't believing anything Adrien ever said ever again. Or anything Marinette said either, the jerk.

"And I can't believe I fell for it!" Alya stormed. "Ugh, those jerks!"

"They were probably primarily trying to prank Adrien's father," Nino pointed out. Now that he knew that the wedding wasn't real, it hadn't taken him long at all to put the pieces together. Adrien had been grumbling about his father's crazy restrictions for forever, so of course he would probably take the opportunity to pretend that he had smashed those restrictions into pieces the second he was gone. It was completely hilarious.

….well, okay, he was still a little concerned about how much Adrien had spent on the fake wedding, but other than that it was completely hilarious.

That helped diffuse some of Alya's anger. A grin lit up her face. "Oh, man. What I would give to have been in the room when Gabriel saw that first post. He must have flipped, oh my god."

Nino snickered at the mental picture.

"I can't actually believe that they pranked Adrien's father," Alya snorted. "Oh, that's hilarious. But they're still not completely forgiven," she added. "They pranked us, too. They could have at least given us a heads up like they clearly did for Marinette's parents!"

Nino shrugged, still cackling away. As far as he was concerned, the whole thing was completely hilarious. There was no harm, no foul-

"Oh, shoot," Alya said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts as she suddenly lunged across the blanket for her phone, eyes wide and a slightly panicked expression on her face. "Oh shoot oh shoot oh shoot oh no-"

"What's wrong?" Nino asked, completely baffled as Alya brought up her text messenger on her phone and frantically started scrolling through the messages she had sent. "I'm sure if you said anything rude, Marinette and Adrien will understand it was just said in the heat of the moment."

"No, no- I mean, yeah, I said a couple rude things, but that's not what I'm worried about." Alya tapped Adrien's contact and scrolled up the wall of texts she had sent. "I, uh, might have sent a text to Adrien earlier on basically saying that I had tried to set the two of them up for years, so I was very offended that they didn't even invite me or let me know what was going on. And, uh, if they didn't actually get married, then Marinette probably didn't confess at all and, uh, I just outed her to Adrien by accident."

[fictorium]

I just came out to my parents O_O So idk if you're taking prompts but I'd love to hear about Cat coming out

Technically I’m not, but for such a special occasion (well done, you!) I’ll make a brief exception.

She’s nine years old the first time she tries to form the thought out loud, lacking both vocabulary and imagination to express what it is she means. It’s an innocent joke after all, some great aunt or other getting a cheap laugh by suggesting that Kitty will grow up to marry the boy whose birthday they’re celebrating, in this drafty Metropolis mansion.

The force behind her no I won’t is unexpected, but Mother tells her off for being contrary, once the other adults have drifted away in search of another dry martini. This isn’t a birthday party, it’s a wake held four decades too soon, and Cat wants to go home.

You don’t have to marry the first man who asks, her mother tells her, like it’s some private joke.

I don’t have to marry any of them at all, Cat retorts, not knowing why her mother laughs.

The bottle is spinning and spinning, spun much too hard on the parquet floor of Sophia’s game room. They’re all done with the SATs and this is the first available house with no parents, so it’s all warm beer and kitchen herbs passing for weed. Cat will stay just long enough for the morning editions to hit the newsstands, so she can pick up a copy of the Planet and a coffee for the brief walk home. She likes her paper still warm, with the ink ripe for smudging.

Sophia is the one spinning, and Cat knows who she wants it to land on. The unsubtle crush on a football player of all things, is too cliché to be believed. She has an eyeroll ready for when it lands on the hulking quarterback trying not to take up too much space.

Instead it lands on Cat, and she should be protesting for a do-over, for that doesn’t count but the boys are braying and Cat is too intrigued by Sophia crawling towards her to move.

I have to kiss you, Sophia mutters, and she does it in a way that says there’s no obligation in it at all. Despite their audience, Cat kisses back. Enough to put on a show, but stopping when the whoops and hollers start to taper off.

She runs, then. Though the papers won’t be delivered and the diner won’t have opened to serve too strong, too hot coffee. Cat doesn’t make it to the end of the block before Sophia catches her. Damn track team.

Was that okay? She asks, and Cat shrugs her shoulders. It’ll be years before she perfects the art of the snappy comeback. I’ve wanted to do that for a while.

Cat could tell her the truth realized in the last few minutes, that she’s wanted to for a long time. That her scorn over Sophia hanging around football players has been rooted in jealousy, but not over the boys. Cat could be kind, and meet Sophia halfway, share a secret that can only make them closer.

Don’t do it again is what she says instead. She continues her walk home, to a quiet house, and doesn’t turn around to see what damage she might have done.

She tries to do it all at Radcliffe. Every society, every class that her timetable can accommodate. Every social event once she settles on the media as her career path, knowing networks matter to networks more than any college transcript.

Cat takes her theory classes and finds a word for it, at last. The restless feeling that makes her keen on men and quietly interested in women. College, of course, is a hotbed of experimentation that she avails herself of freely. She’s young, desired, and the world beyond Metropolis is beckoning at last.

There are territorial scuffles, of course. The boys find it enticing, for the most part, that she dates girls too. The lesbians with a cause find her dalliances with men a betrayal, but Cat reminds each one of them that she never claimed to be signing up to their exclusive club, though she’ll visit when the mood strikes.

Bisexual, she gets tired of explaining, to the ignorant and those who should know better. It’s not exactly hard to grasp, after all.

The marriage before graduation doesn’t last through the fall, but Cat’s always believed in the first pancake theory of life. It neither slows her nor deters her, and three years later there’s Adam’s father, with his big promises and relaxed attitude to contraception that catches them out in the end.

It isn’t a choice, exactly not to come out to him. With CatCo and barely time for monogamy as it is, Cat decides discretion is the better part of valor. He finds out anyway, because people talk and Cat is vicious when she can drink again, once Adam is born. She uses her sexuality to hurt him, and he uses it against her in court.

After that she swears off romantic entanglements. Empires don’t build themselves.

Eve writes her off on their first meeting. It’s easy to buy into the public myths of Cat Grant. Maneater, mogul, irredeemable workaholic. The legends are many and varied, and hardly any of them true. It’s clear that’s all the lawyer sees when sitting down to depose Cat in some frivolous suit or other, and it irks her in a way that few people can do by this stage in her life.

She researches, of course. The LGBTQ causes, the awards and charitable acts, the lack of partner mentioned in the last six months. Cat is nothing if not a journalist at heart. Their paths cross before long, some fundraiser for the ACLU, and Cat sets her stall out early over champagne.

You assumed I’m straight, didn’t you? Is all it takes to get the telltale quirk of an eyebrow, and the shift of full attention turned on her. It would seem Cat hasn’t lost her touch.

Nine torrid months, leading to a City Hall wedding when a proposition outlawing the newly acquired marriage rights is put on the November ballot. The measure is unsuccessful, the people of California more tolerant than given credit for. The marriage is even less successful, but that’s becoming something of a constant in Cat’s life. She’s beginning to appreciate the predictability of it.

There’s never any public acknowledgement beyond gal pals and that’s Cat’s iron fist at the helm of the media. It’s a conversation she doesn’t want to have with the world, not when she hasn’t with her sons. As excuses go, it’s a handy one.

She dates appropriate men in appropriate settings and has some occasionally inappropriate flings along the way. It’s lonely, lacking in connection, but it doesn’t require an explanation or a media strategy.

It’s enough.

Carter inherits more from her than a curious mind and hair that curls whether asked to or not. He frets for days and it pains her that he can’t come out and say it, but patience is a skill Cat learned for her son, and she exercises it as best she can.

Can you like both boys and girls? He asks, when they’re under blankets in the den, watching some subversive cartoon that Cat’s already forgotten the name of.

Oh darling, she exhales. Of course you can. Let me tell you something about me, okay?

There’s no decision on the public coming out, which is unusual in a life that’s become perfectly organized, regimented first by Kara and then by the systems she left in place for Eve and the one who comes after.

Fame has made Cat bullish about her privacy, walking a balanced line of public displays to lead the press, and a fiercely guarded private life that no paparazzo or hack has been able to breach.

The first night she stays over at Kara’s apartment, none of the usual safeguards are in place. Cat is twenty again, slipping out of a barely-known building. Only this time it’s not a shoeless sprint across campus, but a short walk to her waiting Mercedes. It’s enough for an opportunist with a camera phone. The speculation reaches fever pitch when it turns out one of Kara’s neighbors is a notorious playboy who’s making his way through National City’s celebrities like a dose of whatever STD he’s no doubt spreading along the way.

As the second week of compulsive apologizing from Kara begins, Cat comes to the quiet realization that she wants more. She doesn’t want furtive and compromising. She doesn’t want the most sinful intimacy behind closed doors only, she wants the simple affection of a hand held at brunch or a waist circled on a red carpet. There is Kara, who loves as though she was born to do it, and Cat is tired of pretending she isn’t lucky enough to be the recipient of that love.

That’s why, she tells herself, she insists that Kara come to the Siegel Awards with her. There’s lots of fussing about appropriate distance and a tighter smile than usual when Kara assumes she’ll be relegated to assistant. Three paces behind, despite the fact that their dresses barely made it out of the limo intact thanks to wandering hands.

For years she hasn’t answered a shouted question at these events, but when the inevitable who are you here with? comes, from the Planet of all places, Cat holds her position with all the poise she can summon. She takes Kara’s hand, and pulls her close. It’s a miracle that Kara doesn’t stumble, but luck is on their side.

Not that it’s any of your business, Jerry, she scoffs, squeezing Kara’s hip. But I’m here with the woman I love. This is Kara.

The flashes go off like a thousand tiny bombs, and Cat beams through them. She checks in with Kara, whose smile outshines everything around them.

I meant to tell you that before, Cat leans in to whisper. I know you’ve been trying desperately not to blurt it out, so here we are.

I love you, too, Kara answers, blossoming under the pleasure of saying it at last. Cat kisses her, caught in the moment. 

She’s out, she’s free, and nothing important needs to be a secret anymore. 

[fandom-imagines]

The man behind the mask: Chapter Twenty

The man behind the mask masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock X Reader

I usually update this on my wattpad a few days before I post it here so if you want to read these chapters early, you can do so here: X

I don’t know what this is, but I wanted to attempt some fluff. It’ll suck because I cannot relationship. Also gain some insight into John and Y/N’s friendship.

Sherlock is out of character, but bite me lolol~

His hands quickly grasped the bottom of my shirt, swiftly pulling over my head and tossing it to the side.

“Bedroom?�� I asked, pulling away for a moment as Sherlock nodded, leaping up making me wrap my legs around his waist to prevent myself falling.

“Bedroom” He smirked, quickly walking to his bedroom.

“You know, I never believed in love” I said, smiling as Sherlock gently ran his hand up and down my arm.

“Really?” He asked, gazing up at me, looking extremely relaxed. Something I wasn’t used to seeing on Sherlock.

“Well, I always thought it was stupid, people do stupid things because of it. But now I understand why it’s so addicting” I said, watching as Sherlock smiled, gently pressing his lips against mine.

“I’m glad you think that” He sighed happily.

“I like seeing you like this” I admitted, looking over at him, his hair messy but he looked completely content. Like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“My parents would constantly beg me and Mycroft to at least try and get a girlfriend or boyfriend, they would tell us how much they wanted grandkids and how much they wanted to see us happy” Sherlock smiled, grabbing my hand and interlocking our fingers.

“Well, I hope I make you happy” I said, squeezing his hand lightly.

“More than.” He began.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, that I don’t show it. But you do” He continued, placing his spare hand on my cheek, running his thumb across.

“I don’t mind, Sherlock. I’m not good at this relationship thing” I smiled, making him chuckled, moving my hand into his hair.

“Me either” He admitted, a slight smile on his face, closing his eyes for a moment.

“We can work this out together” I said, gently running my hand through his curls, smiling as he hummed in appreciation.

“What time do you think John will be back?” I asked, my hand still running through his hair.

“Soon, she’s going to break up with him” He said casually, making me laugh.

We both saw this coming, it always happens.

John should probably stop dating, well attempting.

As is on cue, the door to 221B was thrown open, making me and Sherlock jump up and quickly throw on our clothes, praying John wouldn’t knock on the door.

“Then she broke up with me” John explained, sighing dramatically while I tried not to laugh.

Even though my friend was feelings slightly down, it was still amusing.

“Why don’t you try dating a guy?” I joked, taking a sip of my tea, waiting for Johns reaction.

“I am not gay!” John exclaimed, pointing his finger at me making me chuckle.

“Bi?”

John dramatically threw his hands in the air, making me laugh even more.

“So, what did you two do while I was getting dumped?” He sighed, looking between Sherlock and me.

Immediately, I felt the blood rush up into my cheeks, a dark red blush covering my cheeks as I sank further into the couch.

“Well, that explains why your clothes are all rumpled” He chuckled, looking at our clothes.

“I’m gonna go to the motel, I have things to do.” I shrugged, grabbing my jacket from the couch.

“You know the offer still stands, for you to stay here I mean” John said, as I threw on my shoes.

“I’ve already overstayed my welcome” I laughed, tying my laces then standing up.

“You’re seeing someone that lives here, I’m pretty sure you can’t overstay your welcome” Sherlock interrupted.

“I suppose” I shrugged, laying back down on the couch.

“Okay then, I’m sleeping here” I chuckled, dangling my feet off the edge of the couch, my shoes still on.

“I still have things to do though” I sighed, remembering that I need to go and check on Ava, see if she got picked up.

“Like what?” John asked, looking at Sherlock while he walked into the kitchen, probably to check on his latest experiment.

“Go see if Ava got bailed out” I chuckled, shaking my head at our drunken antics.

“Over there” Ava yelled, pointing at a shadow on the wall.

Gasping, the two of us ran towards the shadow, stumbling every step.

“Ghosties?” I called, excited to see some ghosts.

“Who ya gonna call?” Ava sang, leaning against the wall for support.

“Ghostbusters!” The two of us screamed, sprinting towards the shadow.

“We were gonna do something today too, I think” I shrugged, pulling out my phone to text Ava.

Did you get out?

Smiling to myself, I looked over at John.

He didn’t seem too upset over the break up. In fact, he seemed slightly relieved.

My phone buzzed a few moments later, alerting me of a text.

Thankfully, haha :). Coffee?

After reading her text, I immediately jumped up and made sure I had my jacket, keys and money.

“Going out, don’t know when I’ll be back” I smiled, running down the steps to leave the flat, not waiting for a reply.

“You look awful” I laughed, sitting opposite Ava in a local coffee shop.

It was run by a young woman called, Jaehee.

She was nice and would sometimes talk to us on her breaks. Sometimes, when she’s stressed I help out. She gives me free coffee too, which is a bonus.

“I love you too Ava groaned, rubbing her temples.

“Why did we drink so much? I’m still hungover a day later” She chuckled, taking a sip of her coffee, handing me mine.

“It just happened. We shouldn’t go out together” I laughed, gently blowing on my tea/coffee.

“Agreed” She smiled, her face suddenly paling.

“What wrong?” I asked, concerned.

“I think I’m gonna be sick” She said, suddenly rushing to the toilet, me following her.

As soon as she reached the toilets, she fell to the floor, throwing up whatever she had ate this morning while I pulled her hair back.

We stayed like this for a few minutes, before she had emptied her entire stomach.

“You okay?” I asked, handing her a piece of tissue to wipe her mouth.

She nodded, weakly, standing up and leaning against the stalls door.

“What’s going on? What happened?” I asked, worried about my friend.

“I was fine one minute, then the smell of coffee made me feel extremely sick” She sighed, rubbing her watery eyes with her fingers.

“Okay, weird question. When did you last have sex?” I asked, watching the blush rise quickly onto her cheeks.

“You don’t think…” She began, trailing off before she could finish, but of course I knew what she meant.

“Only one way to find out” I said, helping her stand up straight, taking her outside to get a cab.

“We’ve got fifteen different ones, how are we gonna do this?” I asked, pulling out all the pregnancy tests.

We weren’t too sure which ones were the best, so we just grabbed a ton.

“You just pee on them, right?” She asked, pacing nervously around the room. I nodded, watching her closely.

She looks, absolutely terrified.

“Okay, pass three” She said, holding out her hand.

I grabbed three from the pile, handing her them and watching her head into the bathroom.

We didn’t know where to go, so we ended up back at the motel I was staying at.

She came out a second later, placing the three tests upside down on the dresser opposite the bed, before sitting beside me.

“What if it’s positive?” She asked, biting her finger nails, a nervous habit of hers.

“I don’t know, you’ll have to talk to Harry. After all, it’s your decision” I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

The two of us sat in silence for a moment, before my phone beeped.

It was a text from Sherlock.

‘Case, we need you’

I sighed to myself, quickly typing out a reply before checking the time on my phone.

‘Sorry, I’ve got something on’

I quickly got a reply, with only forty-five seconds remaining.

‘More important than this?’

’Sort of, I’ll explain later’

Soon after I sent the text, the timer went off.

“Now or never, I suppose” I said, standing up and walking over to the dresser.

“Can you do it? I can’t, I can’t look” She said, tugging on her dark red hair.

I nodded, picking up each test and turning them over.

They all said positive.

“Positive. You’re gonna have a baby, Ava” I smiled, watching a large smile make its way onto her face.

“I didn’t think I’d be this happy” She said, a grin etched on her face as she enveloped me into a tight hug.

“I’m gonna be a mom!” She laughed, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

“I better be godmother” I warned, jokingly making her laugh.

“You’re gonna be a parent!”

It had been an hour since we had found out about Ava’s pregnancy. We had used every test, just to make sure before she decided to go home.

She decided she was going to think about it for a while, before telling Harry.

It was great, seeing how happy she was.

We had always talked about kids, her being sure she wanted them but me not so much. I’ve never been sure about kids. Being responsible for someone else’s life, that sounds stressful. I mean hell, I forget to feed myself sometimes, let alone a kid.

A smile was still on my lips as I walked into Baker Street.

“You look happy” John commented, as soon as I walked into the room.

“I am” I smiled, sitting down on the couch.

Sherlock was sitting in his usual seat, hands rested together in a praying like motion while his eyes were closed, obviously deep in thought. John was sat in his chair too, only he was typing up another blog post, probably about the latest case.

“How come?” He asked, glancing up from his laptop.

“Ava’s pregnant” I said, my smile becoming wider as I thought about it.

“You should tell her no trespassing now, then” John joked, placing his laptop onto the table in front of him.

“I’m just happy for her. She always wanted kids” I said, still feeling extremely happy.

“Do you?” John asked, turning to face me.

“Do I what?” I asked.

Obviously, I knew what he was going to ask, but I may as well try and delay it.

“Do you ever want kids?”

“I never really thought about it” I shrugged casually, not wanting to go into it.

“Why not?” John quizzed, wanting to talk about it.

Please stop, John.

“Never had a reason too, I guess” I said, hoping to put an end to the conversation as soon as possible.

I didn’t actually know why I didn’t want to talk about it. I guess it was because no one had ever shown an interest in me when Ava and I would talk about it. In fact, no one had ever really shown any interest in me at all. Only people looking for a hook up, or guys hoping to get into a relationship just get sex and someone willing to do anything.

I was still mad about that.

“No-one liked me enough for me to want them” I admitted, knowing he wasn’t going to stop until he got an answer.

A sad look made its way onto Johns face, before he glanced over at Sherlock who was still deep in thought.

“What about you? Do you want kids?” I asked, directing the attention away from me.

“Uh-yeah. Hopefully” He said, thinking for a moment.

“I just wanna meet someone who understands me, I guess” He shrugged, after thinking.

“Cheesy” I joked, making the conversation less serious.

“Tea?” I offered, standing up to make some tea after he said yes.

While I was stood in the kitchen, I began to think about what John said.

Do I actually want kids?

To be honest, I would kind of like kids. But it’s not just my decision, it would depend on my partner. Right now, that would-be Sherlock. But he doesn’t seem like the type to want kids.

I was suddenly brought out of my thoughts by the kettle whistling.

I sighed to myself, pushing my previous thoughts out of my mind, grabbing two mugs for John and me, knowing that Sherlock wouldn’t be out of his mind palace for a while.

“Here ya go” I smiled, handing John the mug, before moving to sit back on the couch, gently blowing on my drink.

“Do you remember that time we skipped class?” I asked, chuckling slightly as I remembered the memory.

“I can’t be bothered with calculus” I sighed, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

We had, had a substitute teacher for the past week and all she did was give us sheets of paper and some sums and told us to do them as fast as possible.

Too easy.

“I know! Let’s skip” I chuckled, gripping the right strap of my backpack. John thought for a moment, before shrugging.

“What the hell, sure” He agreed, shrugging.

“I have corrupted you, young man” I joked, looking around for any teachers before hopping the fence, shortly followed by John.

“Where are we going?” he asked, looking towards me making me blush.

“Pete’s burgers?” I asked, pointing towards the burger van that was always outside our school.

“We always get free burgers when we’re with you, so sure” He chuckled, wrapping his arms around my shoulder, making me blush even more.

“Hey, Pete” I smiled, walking up to the van, waving at Pete.

Pete and I became fast friends when I helped him find his cat after she went miss. He seemed like a tough guy that loved no one, but he was a softie on the inside.

“Y/N! How are you?” He grinned, turning his attention away from the shelves he was previously stocking.

“I’m great, how are you?” I replied, pulling out some cash from my bag.

“I’m good, Mittens is good too” He chuckled.

Mittens was his cat, she had white fur and black for around her paws, hence the name Mittens.

“So, what can I get you and your little boyfriend over there?” He asked, leaning over the counter between us.

My blush darkened even more. It seemed everyone knew about my crush on John except him. Or, maybe he did and he was being nice to me by pretending he didn’t know.

“I’ll have a burger, what about you, John?” I asked, brushing off the comment about John being my boyfriend.

“The same please” He smiled, checking his watch, obviously nervous about skipping class.

“Coming right up” Pete smiled, turning to start making John and I’s burgers.

We stood around for a few minutes, the three of us engaging in light conversation, waiting for our burgers.

“Here you go, two burgers” He smiled, handing us a burger each.

“How much?” I asked pulling out a ten-pound note.

“On the house. I gotta thank you” He chuckled, pointing to the sauce.

“You already thanked me, I feel guilty every time you give me something for free” I smiled, taking a bite of my burger.

“Well, I’m never gonna stop thanking you” He smiled, leaning over the counter again.

“Thanks’, Pete” I smiled, nodding.

“You kids behave. Also look out, your teacher is over there” He warned, pointing towards one of our teachers.

“Shit, hide!” I laughed, thanking Pete again as John and I ran away from the burger van and into a field.

“Do you think she saw us?” John panted, laughing.

“Probably” I laughed, looking through a bush to see her walking over.

“Go! Go! Go! She’s coming!” I said, pushing John so we could run into a forest.

John and I’s laughter echoed from the hollow trees as we sprinted through the forest, jumping over fallen branches and vines.

“Miss Y/S/N, Mr Watson” Mrs Smith’s voice bellowed, making me laugh even more.

“You’re such a bad influence, I swear” He called over his shoulder, still sprinting through the forest, Mrs Smith’s heels clicking behind us.

“She’s gonna fall” I snorted, looking behind to see her taking her heels off.

“Shit, she’s taking her heels off!” I screamed, taking off into a full sprint, John doing to same.

“This way!” John laughed, grabbing my upper arm and dragging me through a pathway towards a few trees.

“Climb!” He yelled, running towards a tree and climbing up.

“Shit” I muttered, grasping a branch and hoisting myself up until I reached the top.

Looking across, I saw John at the same height making the two of us laugh.

John raised his finger to his lips, quieting me when he pointed towards Mrs Smith who was below us, looking extremely confused.

“I swore they went this way” She mumbled, turning around and going back the way, she came.

Once we were sure she had left, we climbed down. Or at least, I attempted.

I got down two branches before one snapped and fell, me falling with it.

“Ow” I groaned, gripping my arm in pain.

“You alright?” John asked, helping me back onto my feet.

“I landed on my arm” I chuckled, wincing when I tried to move it.

“It might be broken” He sighed, gently taking it.

“Alright Dr. Watson calm down” I joked, wincing when he poked it.

“Broken, I think. You should get it checked out” He laughed, the two of us carefully walking through the woods to get back.

“You broke your arm by climbing” John chuckled, sipping his tea.

“The branch snapped!” I exclaimed, laughing quietly, not wanting to disturb Sherlock.

“Then there was the time with Adam” He chuckled, reminding me of the time we nearly got shot.

“I think its this way” My friend Adam said, pointing towards a farm.

“I don’t know, Ads. It looks like private property” I sighed, looking towards the place he pointed at.

It was a small farm, with a few animals in stables. A large house stood at the back and the smell of cow faeces[CC1]  was filling the air.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” I laughed, following Adam and John towards the family.

“The gates locked” John sighed, rattling the gate making the lock hit the metal fence.

“We’ll just climb. There’s probably a fence the other way around, but I can’t be bothered to walk around” Adam chuckled, lifting himself up and over the fence.

John and I looked at each other, shrugging before climbing over ourselves.

“Let’s go look at the cows” Adam said, walking towards the cows.

“Heya there, cow” Adam chuckled, rubbing the cows head.

I laughed at him, before moving to my own cow and doing the same, handing it some food that was on a table nearby.

“Oi!” I menacing voice yelled from behind us, making us spin round in fright.

About fifty feet away from us was a sweat man, around 40 holding a rifle and he did not look pleased.

“What did you do to my cows?” He snarled, taking the safety lock off the gun, slowly walking towards us.

“Nothing, we were just petting them” John said, worry evident on his face.

“I don’t like trespassers” He said, smirking before pointing the gun at us.

“Shit!” Adam yelled, taking off in a sprint, John and I soon following while the sounds of bullets whizzed past us.

“Shit, that was close” I panted, leaning against a wall when we were a safe distance away from the farm.

“That’s most certainly was not the petting zoo” John said, breathing heavily like Adam and me.

“Ya think?” Adam laughed, leaning over, his hands on his knees.

“Jesus, he nearly shot us” I said, the realisation settling in as the three of us burst into laughter.

“He didn’t even hesitate” I laughed, looking over at Sherlock.

“I’m going for a walk, you wanna come?” I asked, nodding towards Sherlock so he’d understand.

“Sure, hold on” He nodded, grabbing his jacket as the two of us descended down the stairs of 221B.

[fanficwriter013]

The Ties That Bind (Part 3/?)

Pairing: Clint X Reader

Summary: Clint makes it his mission to win you over. He succeeds, but you don’t believe in marriage. Can the two of you stay together without the promise of wedding bells in the future? What about when the two of you are forced to go undercover as a married couple?

Word Count: 1975

Warnings: Angst/Depression, Cursing, Exercise, Puns.

A/N: It’s a little short. But bare with me.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 /

Tony waited until Clint was fully recovered, which was three weeks later, to do the debrief. The mission had been classified a success, and you’d gotten several arrests out of it. The point was that you’d shut down the mafia, and you’d gotten rid of their illegal activity. Tony hated debriefs, so it took about twenty minutes.

“I’m going for a run.” You stated and took off for the track outside. You’d pushed yourself on your run, you were still convinced that this mission was a failure and Clint’s injuries were all your fault. Your mind raced along to the pace set by your uneven breathing. You were merciless, your run was more like a sprint. Leaving you tired and winded, when you finally stopped. But you weren’t done, your mind wouldn’t stop so neither would you.

You walked into the gym in the compound. You grabbed the tape from the shelf and wrapped your hands before you started in on the punching bag. You were trying to make the bag your demons, and your frustrations to be able to hit them away. But it wasn’t working. Clint’s mangled face, your lack of initiative still haunted you. If you had been a super soldier, you might have broken the punching bag. You attacked the bag until you couldn’t lift your arms. With a defeated sigh, you hit the showers.

You’d wound up locked away in your room, just curled up in a chair. You were exhausted, not just physically but emotionally and you didn’t want to have to deal with anyone. But you couldn’t do that, and you honestly couldn’t even stand to be alone. You were out of your chair before you realized what was happening. Your feet moved of their own accord, and before you knew it you were down at the range.

Clint’s face fell when he saw you thundering towards him. “What’s wrong?” He asked, putting his bow down. You shook your head and threw yourself into his arms. The gesture took Clint by surprise, and you started to pull away. Clint wrapped his strong arms around you, rubbing your back. “I’m fine. Look at me.” He said, hooking his index finger under your chin forcing you to look at his face.

“I’m fine, the mission was successful. We’re fine. Hey, lime yours.” He said, earning a small chuckle from you. You still felt like shit, but maybe you could start healing. To do that, you would have to risk being vulnerable. You would have to reveal parts of yourself that you hadn’t before. And maybe you would have to step outside your comfort zone.

You’d been going to therapy. Clint knew about it and didn’t press you on the subject. Which was good, because most of the time you talked about him. Not just that failure on the mission, but how you felt that you weren’t good enough for him. He wanted a big beautiful movie worthy wedding moment, and you didn’t think you could ever do that for him. Sure he said he was okay without it and had made you matching rings. But you didn’t think that was good enough for him.

Your therapist was trying, and while you were making some progress, you were also regressing. You loved Clint, you really did. But you wondered if he would be better off without you, and with someone who was willing to settle down. You had hated every minute of being Hayden, the utter domestics, having to keep home. It wasn’t you, and while you know that Clint didn’t expect that of you. You still wondered.

You’d withdrawn lately, keeping a journal. Which was shared with your therapist. Dr. Shepard was trying to help you through, but you just kept falling deeper. There were several times where you started to tell Clint what you were thinking, but you always chickened out. You’d started to carelessly leave your journal about. Hoping that Clint would read it, and offer a life vest. But that would have proved that he was too good for you. Which is what you already suspected, and it just made you spiral down even further.

You’d felt empty and numb, and were currently sitting in the shower. Letting the hot water wash over you. After sitting in there for an hour, Clint had come in. He’d turned the water off, covered you in a towel and just held you. It only made you worse. You weren’t conventional, and yet someone like this could care for you so completely.

“But, I’m a limited edition flavor and you’re a classic. Are you really sure that you can be happy with me? Me the way that I am. The entirely eccentric, and apparently, heavily depressed package that is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You said you had bottomed out. You were sure you were impaled on the rocky bottom of the depression you were currently drowning in. You weren’t quite sure how much time had passed since that mission, but you knew that you both, separately, had been on missions since then.

“I’m going to say this in plain English. I love you, (Y/N). The same person that pretended to be a homemaker, even though that’s not who you are. The person that stopped me in the hallway at SHIELD and called me out. The person that rescued my ass on several occasions, and you know how much I like my ass. I don’t care about marriage, I just want you.” Clint said, wrapping you up in his strong arms. “And if sometimes you just have to lay on the floor, then we’ll lay on the floor. Now, I know I said no puns. But you’re my butter half.” He said gently, rubbing your back. All Clint had ever been was supportive. It was your turn now.

You had talked to your therapist a lot about what you were about to do. You pulled away from Clint, talking yourself both into and out of what you were planning. Before you could sabotage yourself again, you pulled open the drawer and grabbed a pair of socks. You turned back to Clint’s confused face and waved your hands.

“Don’t. I’m going to stutter, and I’m going to sound incoherent. And I’m going to make puns because I hate emotions. But I need you to not interrupt me, ‘cause if you do I’ll never finish. Oh, and I’m going to shake. Just let me.” You had started to speak faster as you went on, hoping that you had covered all the conditions to what you would say next. The archer raised an eyebrow at you but remained silent.

You held up the striped pair of socks. “So, we make a great pair. Crap,” you paused, your hands were trembling and your heart was racing like you’d just run a three-minute mile. You swallowed hard, trying to smooth out your emotions. “Oh, fuck me. Just fucking say it, (Y/N).” You griped at yourself, it was now or never.

You unfolded the pair of socks, pulling out the ring box you had hidden inside. Your legs gave out more so than you were in control. “So, like I had a whole speech thing. Something about us already being an old married couple, and some puns. But like, hell if I can remember it. Um, so. What I’m saying is. Clint, will you- will you m-marry me?” It was as hard to choke out as you thought it would be. You opened the ring box and forced your eyes to look up at Clint. He was still staring at you, eyebrows knit together. Mouth slightly open.

“But what about not believing in marriage?” Was his only question, and you started to close the ring box and stand up. “That wasn’t a no. I just want to know what’s going on inside that head of yours.” He said, gesturing for you to open the ring box again.

“Dr. Booth and I have been talking about it, and while I don’t believe in it. You do. We’ve been together for four years, and if a ceremony and a piece of paper will make it longer than I’ll do it. I’ll do it for you. Because you’re my butter half too. And I want you to be happy, and I know you said that the marriage doesn’t matter. But it does, and so.” You trailed off, opening the box. “Let me ask again. Would you marry me?” This time it didn’t taste as bitter in your mouth. But it was still foreign words and was hard to say.

“Why’d you get me the girly engagement ring?” Clint asked, picking up the ring and turning it over. It was a typical engagement ring, and you shook your head. “I don’t know. Nat said you wanted the whole big, movie moment. And you can’t have that without a girly ring. Besides, you’re going to be the one showing it off. Not me. I think this one matches your personality, though.” You were rambling, but Clint was stalling. It wasn’t a no, but it also wasn’t a yes either and that was making your skin crawl.

“Let me just ask one last question. Would you give up sugar for me?” He asked, there were times where you could go without it. But this sounded like all forms of sugar, and that would require more cooking. Clint knew what he was asking here.

“Jesus, Clint. I'd give up sugar, I'd give up all processed foods. And yes, I'd even make my own pasta, even though that's damn annoying. If it was you or sugar, the sugar has to go.” You said you were starting to think you’d never get an answer. That laying down on the floor comment from earlier was starting to sound good right about now. Clint grabbed your arms, pulling you up. He took the ring box from you, putting the ring back into it and captured your lips with his. It was a soft sweet kiss.

“Remember the first time you tried to make pasta, and you almost burnt the kitchen down. Yeah, I think you had better keep the sugar.” His voice was light, but you were hearing the unspoken. It sounded like the bittersweet symphony of rejection to your ears, as you could feel your throat constrict. “But I guess you can keep me too,” Clint said, holding out his left hand. “Huh, you’re right. This does suit me. Fits perfectly too. I’m never taking it off, and you are never gonna rid of me.” He said, and you punched him.

“You’re a jerk, and I need some floor time. Go on, I know you want to go show that off. I just need a minute.” You said you could feel your heart beating inside your chest. The uneasy churnings in your stomach were starting to ebb away. But, you needed to prepare yourself for the swarm that would be the Avengers.

“But, I’m your jerk.” Clint teased, as he walked out of the room. The second the door closed, you collapsed onto the floor. The feeling you had experienced when you thought you were being told no, was utterly devastated. You couldn’t lose Clint, you were sure you would die of a broken heart. And this was something that took you by surprise. Sure, you had known that you loved the archer. But that moment you thought you had lost him, had made you feel empty and numb. Maybe this marriage thing would work out after all.

The whole team had swarmed you the second you had set foot onto the common floor. They were all happy for you, and so were you. Especially, when you saw the wide beaming smile on Clint’s face. It warmed your heart to see him so happy.

Part 4

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AS LONG AS YOU ARE WITH ME IT’LL BE OKAY ➝ GRANBIN.

TAGGING ➝ Grant McCarthy, Robin St. James.

LOCATION ➝ St. James household.

TIME FRAME ➝ 3/17, late morning onwards.

WARNINGS ➝ None.

NOTES ➝ Granbin Sr. are having a Granbin Jr.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

When one person asks ‘are you pregnant?’, it’s easy enough to shrug it off. Not so much when three people ask over the span of two days, though, so despite the fact that Robin definitely didn’t think people were right, she couldn’t help that small worry in the back of her mind, telling her she should check before completely ruling the idea out. She’d just gotten back from brunch with her brother, where she had, as usual, wound up in the bathroom throwing up. It was a pretty regular occurrence lately, one that it was now hard not to read into. The thing with Robin was that if something was in her head, she had to address it, otherwise it would drive her crazy. Literally, in her case. So, she knew this couldn’t wait. The idea of going to pick up a test herself was kind of intimidating, though, so she found herself pacing her parents kitchen until she heard the door opening, and the sound of her father’s voice echoing into the house. Trying to force a happy, normal expression to her face, she hurried to greet her two favorite men, each with a kiss to the cheek, then took Grant’s hand in her own. “Daddy, I have to borrow Grant for a second, but then I want to hear all about golf,” she grinned, gently tugging Grant through the house. She kept tightly ahold of his hand, not speaking until they were safely in her bedroom, then guided him over to the bed, urging him to sit. “I have to talk to you about something,” she said, her voice smaller than usual. “There's a pharmacy super close by, I can pull up the directions on your phone,” she knew she was stalling, so eventually shook her head, forcing herself to continue. “Baby, I’m really sorry, I think I need you to go get me a pregnancy test.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Golfing with Robin’s dad was not exactly on his plans for the weekend, but he couldn’t exactly turn down the offer. He wanted to impress him. He figured he didn’t have much competition to live up to since Robin’s last significant other had a boyfriend and Grant was clearly only interested in her, but he still wanted to make his best effort to get her family to like him. So, he went out and played golf. Even though it was pretty cold outside, and he wasn’t all that great it, he still gave it a try. Because he knew it would make Robin happy to see him making an effort with her father. Like most things Grant did, it was awkward. Lots of mumbling and awkward laughs from him, but he had really given it his best shot. He was definitely relieved when they made it back. The look of awkwardness on his face dissipated as Robin greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. He was glad when she took his hand, hoping that maybe she was just rescuing him from spending more time with her dad. Once they reached her bedroom he could tell something was off. He took her lead and had a seat on the bed, sending her a look of confusion once she insisted that they needed to talk about something. “A what?” He questioned, shaking his head at her. His mind started flooding with memories of every time they’d had sex, mostly moments he had lost count of by now, but there was something missing in every single memory. And now it was a month too late to ask her if she was on birth control. “Why do you, uh... Why do you think you’re pregnant?” He asked, exhaling a deep breath as he stumbled over his words.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Maybe it seemed a little intense, having her boyfriend hanging out with her father already, but then again, the two of them were literally living together; it wasn’t like they’d taken any part of their relationship slowly. Robin had actually been kind of excited about the prospect of her dad getting to know Grant, especially because she knew he’d never been the biggest fan of Scott. But now all she wanted was for them to come home. She just wanted to get this all over and done with, all out of the way. She knew it wasn’t the best way to greet Grant home, and when she saw his reaction, heard the way he stumbled over his words, she suddenly felt like maybe she should’ve just done this herself. She had them both worried now, and probably for nothing. Robin knew she had to do some damage control. “I don’t,” she shook her head quickly, perching down on the edge of the bed beside Grant. “I really don’t. Honestly, I actually heard that the medication I take makes it difficult for women to conceive. But three people have asked me since last night if I’m…” she paused, shaking her head. She couldn’t even say the word now? “I guess because I keep throwing up mainly. I just did again at brunch with Jesse. I guess it just… It can’t hurt to check, right?” As she spoke, she reached into Grant’s pocket to pull out his phone, then pulled up the address for the pharmacy on Maps. “Here,” she whispered, holding the phone out to him. “I just want to check, and then we can pretend this didn’t happen, and you can tell me all about golf with my dad.” She tried to smile, but it was halfhearted.

GRANT MCCARTHY

She didn’t think she was pregnant. That seemed to cause his heart rate to slow down a little. Even though Grant still wasn’t fully convinced. The word was out there and it couldn’t stop twirling around his mind. He knew it wouldn’t stop until she took that test. He nodded his head as she explained it all to him. She had been sick, so it made sense that people may have thought she could possibly be pregnant. It wasn’t until then that it hit him that her sickness may have just been a baby this entire time. He shook his head at the though, hoping he could shake it away forever. “It can’t hurt to check...” He echoed, letting out another sigh. He watched as she reached for his phone, his eyes glancing up at the ceiling for a moment. He was nervous. He felt twenty again. It was like he was talking to Jessica all those years ago and she was telling him that she was late and there was a possibility she was having a baby. This almost felt like that. There was a small difference. Or rather, a huge difference. This was Robin. The girl he had self-described as the love of his life. If she was pregnant then this would be a whole lot different. “I’ll run out and grab the test. And I’ll be right back, okay? Okay.” The words left his lips in a quiet mumble as he accepted the phone from her. He leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to her cheek before pulling away. “I love you. Evertthing’s gonna be fine. I promise.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Robin didn’t want a baby. And not because she didn’t want to be a mother, she did. But like she’d told Grant before, her illness was potentially hereditary, she didn’t want to burden another human being with it. With that in mind, she’d never planned to have children, at least not ones that she’d given birth to. Maybe some women would be upset at the prospect of maybe not being able to conceive, but not Robin. If anything, that knowledge was serving as some form of comfort to her, and had her holding it together even as Grant leaned in to kiss her cheek. Really, she kind of just wanted to break down right then, but she managed a small smile in response instead. “I love you, too,” she responded, slipping her hand into his once more. “It is. I’m gonna go talk to my dad, I’m sure he wants to tell me all about your morning.” She was trying to change the subject, but also knew that Grant would worry about her sitting here and panicking alone, so Robin stood from the bed and led him back out of the room and downstairs, pressing a small kiss to his lips at the door. “He’s a keeper,” she heard her dad’s voice from the kitchen, and in spite of herself, Robin couldn’t help but smile as she went to join him. She couldn’t really focus as Roman Sr. began to tell her about their golfing experience, but she could pretend, despite her gaze fixing itself on the door every few minutes in anticipation of Grant returning.

GRANT MCCARTHY

The last thing Grant thought he would be doing with his afternoon would be buying pregnancy tests from a local pharmacy, but somehow that was where he had ended up. He may have ran a red light or two on his way there, but he couldn’t be sure. It was like he had blacked out. It was weird to see Robin taking it so much better than he was. She had zero kids and had sort of made it clear to him that she didn’t want to have any. He already had one, so this really wasn’t his first time at the rodeo. He grabbed eight different boxes of pregnancy tests, making sure to grab every box that said it was 99% accurate. The cashier gave him a funny look, but he didn’t really care. He had bigger fish to fry. It didn’t take long for him to end up back at her parents’ place, finding himself making his way back through that front door. He smiled half-heartedly at her dad, sending them both a small wave. “Hey, babe. I picked up your stuff...” He trailed off, mentally cursing himself for the fact that he wasn’t much of a good liar. This wasn’t even really a lie. He just felt uncomfortable standing in her parents’ house holding two bags full of pregnancy tests. ‘It was really nice hanging out with you today, Mr. St. James. We’re just gonna go unpack these bags. We’ll be right back.” Geez. He was really bad at this. He motioned for Robin to follow him, making sure the door was shut once they were back in her bedroom. He lifted up the two paper bags and dropped the groups of pregnancy tests out on her bed. “Take your pick,” he sighed, his eyes glancing back up toward her.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

If she really let herself consider this, if she really admitted to herself that there was a possibility that everyone really could be right about why she’d been so sick, Robin wouldn’t have been holding it together the way she was. She was telling herself that everything was fine, though. That her friends were just being paranoid, and that they were just making her paranoid, too. Not a good feeling for a schizophrenic, but whatever. The pharmacy wasn’t too far away, so it didn’t take too long for Grant to return, though it felt like a lifetime. It always did when he was gone, but this time was obviously even worse. She’d managed to get further in her head in the short amount of time it’d been, though, and once they were safely back in her room again, and Grant had emptied the boxes out onto the bed, Robin was suddenly filled with horror. “You know what, I changed my mind,” she said, voice panicked, though she was trying to sound as calm as possible. It wasn’t working out for her, it was like the sight of the tests had suddenly made it real. There was no reason for her to be crying, though. But that didn’t stop her eyes from filling with tears as she backed away from the bed, her voice small and strained. “What if I am?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

It was kind of nice to know that Robin wasn’t freaking out like him. There was such turmoil going on in his mind. The thought of having another baby was incredibly terrifying, especially the thought of having another baby with his girlfriend of one month, who said she didn’t want any children. All of it was just too much for him, so he was thankful that Robin seemed calm. Well, he was thankful until it was clear that she was panicking too. His eyes stayed focused on the plethora of tests he had just thrown down onto her bed. “Hey, honey. Calm down,” he whispered, looking up at her and shaking his head. He placed his hands on her shoulders, meeting his eyes with hers. “We have to know for sure, okay?” He nodded his head as he spoke, watching her get teary eyed. He should have been right there with her. He didn’t want this to be real either, but it was. And they had to know for sure. As scary as it was, now that the possibility was out there, they could not just ignore it. “Everything will be fine. If it’s negative, we’ll go back out there and your dad can tell you about how he kicked my ass at golf,” he said with a weak chuckle. And then there was the other possibility. He didn’t really know what to tell her when it came to if the test turned up positive. Because he really did not know that the two of them were going to do. “And if... If you are, we’re going to figure this all out together. I love you and whatever happens with this...” He paused, motioning toward the bed of pregnancy tests. “It won’t change that.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Despite the fact that people would coddle and baby her, Robin had always considered herself to be a very independent person. She didn’t need people to treat her the way they did, she was just too nice to tell them to stop. It wasn’t until now that she’d realized maybe she did need someone, and that that someone was Grant. Though teary, her gaze met with his as his hands settled on her shoulders, and Robin found herself nodding her head, taking in his words. She didn’t feel like laughing, but she appreciated what he was trying to do. “Are you sure?” She asked weakly, eyes kind of pleading with him. “That it won’t change how you feel about me?” She took a somewhat shaky breath, before pulling away from him and edging closer to the bed. The last time Robin had taken a pregnancy test was in college, she didn’t know which ones were supposed to be the best, so she selected the one in the biggest box, followed by the one beside it. They both apparently displayed the words ‘pregnant’ or ‘not pregnant’ depending on the outcome, so she hoped at least there’d be no room for confusion. “I’ll call you in in a minute,” she said, not meeting Grant’s gaze, then headed to the adjoining bathroom. The instructions were pretty simple, so Robin did as they said with the first stick, then set it down beside the sink. “You can come in,” she called to her boyfriend, sitting herself down on the edge of the tub. They had to leave it a couple minutes yet, but she wasn’t about to sit here alone, nor was she the one that was going to check the result.

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant wanted to say all of the right things to Robin, but he really did not know what exactly the right words were. He just resigned to tell her the truth. “Nothing will change how much I love you,” he breathed out with a nod of his head. His eyes never lost their focus on her as he watched her choose a test and disappear into the bathroom. She was probably only in there for a minute before she invited him in, but it felt like twenty. Time had been moving incredibly slowly since she’d told him people thought she was pregnant. He was only in the pharmacy for ten minutes, but it felt like he had been gone for hours. He sighed as he opened the bathroom door, making his way inside and sitting down beside her on the edge of the bathtub. His eyes darted around the room, trying to look at anything except the stick sitting on the bathroom sink. It was so strange that one tiny stick was suddenly consuming all of his thoughts. But all he could think about was whether or not the girl he loved was pregnant. He reached out and laid his hand on top of hers, trying to offer her some sort of support. “I’m sorry,” he breathed out. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear and he wasn’t even clear what he was sorry about. He was sort of annoyed with himself that he didn’t notice her symptoms before. She had been sick and extremely tired. And her boobs did look really good. “Do you want to look together?” He offered up, sending her a small smile.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Although she knew there was absolutely no comparison between Grant and Scott, Robin had been kind of scarred by her husband, to the point where she was quietly waiting for Grant to realize she wasn’t enough for him anymore either, just like Scott had. She nodded in response to his words, though, figuring now probably wasn’t the time to get into that. Besides, they’d already left her mind once they were both in the bathroom together, and Robin’s thoughts were on that tiny stick sitting only feet away from them. “What are you sorry for?” She asked, though she she didn’t look at him; her gaze was fixed on the stick. She took his hand, of course, lacing their fingers easily, then let out a long sigh in response to his question, finally nodding her head. “Yeah, I guess so.” Her heart was racing, and not in the good way, as she stood up to grab the stick with her free hand. She chose not to look at the little screen on the front, and instead sat back down, before holding it out between them both. She still didn’t want to look, but her eyes betrayed her, and Robin felt her heart sink as the word ‘pregnant’ stared back at them. “Maybe it’s wrong,” she whispered, refusing to look at her boyfriend. She let go of the stick, dropping it onto the floor, voice a little less confident now. It was clear she was on the verge of tears again. “It’s wrong.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

“I just wished I had been more careful,” he whispered out, shaking his head. Grant knew this wasn’t his fault. They didn’t even know if it was actually something he had to worry about, but in his head, this wouldn’t have even been a possibility if he had just used his head and thought about using protection. One unplanned pregnancy should have been enough for him, but it was clear that he hadn’t learned anything since he was twenty years old. His eyes followed her as she stood up the grab the test, the speed of his heart quickening as she sat back down next to him. He swallowed back the lump in his throat as he read the word ‘pregnant.” He immediately glanced back up at her to gauge her reaction. He could tell by her face and the words that came out of her mouth that she wasn’t happy. “I don’t think it’s wrong,” he mumbled out, his voice cracking a little. He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair as he exhaled. It was clear that he wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t been sure what to say to her since she’d proposed the idea she was possibly pregnant. Now that it was practically confirmed, he had no idea what to say. “I think you’re pregnant.” He closed his eyes for a moment, his mind drifting back to that night he’d asked her if she ever wanted kids. “I can go grab another test and you can take it again, but I think you’re going to get the same answer, Rob.” His eyes glanced toward the bathroom door, suddenly remembering that they were in her parents’ house and her parents were somewhere right outside of this bedroom. “I know you don’t want this,” he sighed out, shaking his head to distract from the water swelling up inside of them.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

“That’s not something for you to apologize for. Neither of us took that into consideration,” Robin admitted, though she truly hadn’t thought it was even possible for her to conceive anyway. She and Scott had never used protection, and they’d never even had a single scare. Robin really was convinced that she was in the percentage of those using the medication she used that just couldn’t make babies. Evidently, she’d been incredibly naive, because they were staring at the word as clear as day. She almost wished she’d opted for one of the old style ones, the ones where you could sometimes mistake one result for the other. There was no mistaking the one word written clearly the way it was. “It is, it’s wrong,” she argued, that familiar feeling of panic swelling inside of her. She dropped Grant’s hand next, standing up and ignoring the way her cheeks were growing wetter with tears. “Stop it, Grant,” she snapped; the first time she’d ever spoken to him in any kind of annoyed tone. “It was one test. Those things come out wrong all the time. I don’t need to take another. It’s my body, I know what feels normal and what doesn’t. I’m not—” Evidently, she still couldn’t say it. Deep down, she knew that she didn’t feel right. Her body hadn’t felt normal for a few weeks now, if she really thought about it. A part of her knew that it wasn’t wrong, and that same part had her lifting her hands up to cover her face in defeat, with Robin quietly sobbing into them.

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant knew how unexpected something like this really was, but it hadn’t made him anymore careful. He had no excuses. He had just been caught up with being with her and she had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in having children, so he assumed that they were protected. Except he never asked. Which was his ultimate downfall. Or their downfall, really. They were in this together. He shook his head as she continued insisting that it must have been wrong. He could understand that. A small part of him wished it was wrong too, but he knew it wasn’t. He took a step back when she snapped at him and his eyes fell, not really recognizing the tone she was taking with him. It wasn’t really something he’d heard from her before, at least not directed toward him. All he wanted to do when she started crying was reach out and touch her, but he couldn’t. “I’m very sorry, Robin,” he mumbled. His voice was soft and hoarse, most likely because of the sadness that was spread all over his face. “I would hug you, but I don’t think you want me to do that.” He couldn’t even look at her. She was crying and it was entirely his fault, and there wasn’t any comfort he could offer her because she had made it clear that she didn’t want that from him. Opening up the bathroom door, he took a few steps back over to the bed and picked up a test for her and brought it back, handing it over to her. “Here. Take this one. I’m going to sit outside this time. You can tell me what it says when you’re done.” The words fell from his lips with a defeated tone as he left her there, closing the door behind him and taking a seat on the pregnancy test filled bed.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

If she was thinking clearly, which she evidently was not, Robin would’ve recognized the sadness in Grant’s tone. She would’ve realized that she was being completely unfair, and that just because she was scared, that didn’t mean she had any right to snap at her boyfriend. He was scared, too. She knew that. She was in panic mode, though. Robin had always thought she was more fight, but evidently she was very much flight right now. She couldn’t go anywhere, though. All she could do was pace the bathroom, accepting the new box with a shaky hand when he held it out to her. She closed the door, took the second test, then practically froze until it was time to check the result. ‘Pregnant.’ Again. She could deny it all she wanted, this was happening. Robin knew deep down that it was happening, that her body had been telling her so for the last couple weeks, and that she’d simply been ignorant to it. The same way she was being to Grant’s feelings right now. Setting the stick down beside the sink again, she opened the bathroom door, arms wrapping protectively around herself as she looked at the man on her bed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. I’m so sorry.” Almost cautiously, she edged toward him. She didn’t sit. She stood in front of him, arms around her middle. “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

It was sort of ridiculous that they were having their first fight over an accidental pregnancy, but Grant didn’t really blame her. She didn’t want kids, but here they were, and they were stuck. Well, if they wanted to be. It seemed like a lifetime. Sitting on that bed alone, waiting for her to come out with another pregnancy test. He already knew what it was going to say. She was pregnant. He had come to terms with that when he was still standing in the pharmacy picking out tests. He knew it didn’t matter which ones he picked out because they were going to turn up with the result he knew she would dread. “Don’t apologize to me,” he mumbled out, his voice still shaky and bitter. He let out another deep breath as he stared around the room, avoiding eye contact with the woman in front of him. “I can’t tell you what to do. It’s your decision,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. In all honesty, he really wasn’t sure what to tell her. He didn’t know what decision to make. He was still processing the entire thing and really could not wrap his head around how he felt about the whole thing. He brought his hand up and wiped away a tear that was forming before it had the chance to fall down his cheek. “I have a kid. I’ve been through this exact same conversation. It’s a little different. I had no feelings for Jessica and I’m clearly in love with you. My future’s with you. Did I expect our future to involve children other than Caroline? No.” He paused to clear his throat, not wanting his voice to show any more emotion than it already had. “You need to figure out what you want to do.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

It was clear that they both needed one another. They were both going through something huge, trying to process something huge, and they were in it together. So the fact that they weren’t touching in some way felt completely wrong. This whole thing just felt wrong. Robin didn’t know how to handle it. She knew that this wasn’t the way, though. “It’s not my decision,” she shook her head, looking down at him. The look on his face was breaking her heart, but she knew she couldn’t do anything about it. “It’s my body, but we both did this. I can’t just decide what we’re going to do.” Despite her words, she already knew there was no way she was ever going to terminate a baby. No matter how terrified she was, how much she didn’t want to pass on her illness to another person, Robin knew she could never go through with something like that. Maybe she was ignoring the big picture here, but seeing that Grant was crying made Robin’s heart ache. Against her better judgment, she carefully sat down on the bed beside him, reaching for his hand. She took it between both of hers. “I don’t not want a baby,” she explained, tears slowing, but they were still rolling down her cheeks. “You know my reasons. You’ve seen how I get. I hate the thought of potentially landing another person with my issues. But I can’t…” Apparently she couldn’t talk about that, either. Her voice grew quieter, a little nervous. “Is your future still with me if there’s a baby in it, too?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

This was the furthest he had ever felt from Robin. And it wasn’t just because they weren’t all over each other like they usually were. He just couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She was clearly scared and freaked out, but he didn’t know what she wanted. And he definitely didn’t know what she wanted from him. He shrugged his shoulders at her words, hearing her, but failing to fully process what she was saying. It was their decision. Sure, but in the end, he was just going to agree to whatever decision she wanted because that’s just the type of guy he was. He could feel his body relax slightly as she took his hand in hers. That felt normal. It was the first normal feeling he had felt all day. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t predict if you’ll pass that on to our baby. I can only promise that I’m going to be here for the two of you. I’m not going anywhere.” He let out a small sigh, pulling his hand away from hers to run his fingers through his hair. “You are my future,” he muttered out with a small shrug. “You and Caroline. And Clover. And if that’s the decision you make, our baby, too.” The idea of having another child never even crossed Grant’s mind. It was like the idea of getting married or even being in a long-term relationship at all. And it seemed like all of those ideas had gone out of the window the moment he met Robin. He was suddenly fast forwarding through things he never thought would happen. He rested his head in his palms for a moment, letting his hands slide down his face as he exhaled in exasperation. He shook his head and straightened his posture, knowing that this Grant wasn’t the Grant she needed at the moment. “I love you, Robin. And I’m in this with you no matter what happens. And I’ll love our baby too.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

They had a lot to think about. Robin knew already that there was no question as to whether she’d be keeping this baby or not, and she knew that Grant had meant it when he said he’d be there. She would never force him to, but she believed him, and she wanted him there, there was no doubt about that. But first they both needed some time, in Robin’s case it was to accept the fact that there was a baby at all. She was still in disbelief, even as she arrived at Autumn’s suite. Of course, she broke down and spilled everything to her best friend, though she eventually calmed down, and soon realized that while she appreciated the support, she wasn’t with the person she really needed. With that in a much clearer mind, Robin headed back to her parents house, fortunately not bumping into either of them on the way inside. She didn’t know if Grant would be back or not yet, but figured she’d find out once she reached her room. Her heart felt broken, but it pieced itself back together when she walked in the door and saw Grant laying on her bed. Robin let out a soft sigh as she closed the door gently behind her, then made her way over to the bed, slipping in beside him. For a moment, she just looked at him, just studying his face, before she reached out a hand to rest delicately against his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, moving a little closer to press her lips to his. She lingered for only a moment, before pulling back to look at him again, hand still on his cheek. “I love you, Grant. I’m sorry.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant knew she needed time and so did he. It was easy to slip away and go spend time with his best friend, who was also dealing with spending an absurd amount of time with her significant other’s family. The entire time he never lost focus on the fact that his girlfriend was pregnant. It was the only thing he truly thought about. It didn’t take much for him to worry about what Robin was doing. He just wanted her to be okay. He still regretted not holding her when she was crying and how long he waited to offer her the words he thought she needed to hear. As soon as he made it back to her parents’ place, he immediately found a comfortable spot in her bed to wait for her. He just hoped that she’d had enough time to think about things before she did come back. The last thing he wanted was for her to still be breaking down and for him to not be able to find the right words to help her. A small sigh of relief escaped from his lips once he heard her enter the room. He was clearly glad she was back. His arms instinctively wrapped around her as she nuzzled into him, shaking his head at her apology. Before he could get any words out her lips were pressed against his and everything felt good again. “Don’t apologize to me,” he mumbled out, this time a lot gentler and sweeter than he had before. “I love you too,” he breathed out, reaching up to push some strands of hair out of her eyes. “Are you okay, baby?”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Nothing about today had been good. From brunch with her brother being ruined by her having to run and throw up, to having to tell Grant she might be pregnant, to finding out she actually was, then to the two of them on the verge of a fight? It had just been a terrible day all around, and Robin was exhausted. She just wanted things to be back to normal between she and Grant, that felt like a priority right now. She was almost scared that he would still be standoffish with her, so when she felt him kissing her back, she finally began to relax a little bit. She shuffled a little to accommodate his arms around her, moving her body closer to his and curling into him. This was where she always felt safest, laying like this with her boyfriend. Now was no exception. She appreciated the softer tone to his voice, and offered him a small smile as he pushed her hair out of her face. “No,” she admitted, shaking her head gently. “I’m not, I’m really scared. But I will be okay.” Robin was always honest anyway, but she knew even more so that she could be with Grant. She wasn’t above telling him that this whole thing was terrifying for her, although she knew he knew that anyway. Her fingers pushed back into his hair, fingertips brushing gently along his scalp. “Are you okay?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

It was obvious that Grant couldn’t stay mad at Robin. It wasn’t like he was ever mad at her in the first place. He was just worried. She had snapped at him, but he wasn’t mad at her for that. She was just scared and so was he. Neither one of them could really express themselves the way they should have. Which was weird for them because communication was always something they’d been good at. Well, that and sex, but that was how they had ended up in this predicament in the first place. He sent her a small weak smile as she admitted that she wasn’t okay. He was right there with her. Their lives had just been turned completely upside down. It was probably alright to not be okay for a little while. “I’m scared too,” he admitted, his eyes glancing upward at the hand she had running through his hair. A small sigh escaped from his lips as he caught her arm with his hand and placed a small kiss against her skin. The few minutes they were together stressing about her pregnancy had made him miss touching her and kissing her. It was the first time in a while that they had been in a room together and hadn’t been all over each other. “I’m sorry about earlier. You’ve never gotten mad at me before and I didn’t take it very well,” he mumbled out, dropping his gaze. It wasn’t really something he was proud of, overreacting because his pregnant girlfriend was stressed out. “I’m fine. Now that you’re in my arms again, I’m fine,” he breathed out. “I think I’m going to be okay, too. I think we all are. All three of us.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Maybe it seemed stupid, considering her own feelings and the fact that she’d just admitted to being scared, but the fact that Grant was too sort of broke her heart all over again. She didn’t like the idea of him having to feel scared, but she understood it. A baby was a big deal, especially one that hadn’t been planned. They were already proving that they could get through things together, though, and just being around Grant right now was easing her mind. Her smile returned as his lips pressed to her skin, and she watched him with quiet adoration. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I wasn’t mad at you, I was mad at the situation. But that still doesn’t mean I should’ve snapped at you. No more apologies, okay?” They really couldn’t be held accountable for their reactions earlier. Especially right now as they laid so closely together, the air calm in spite of everything. “I think we are, too,” she agreed, pressing a soft kiss to the end of his nose. “I guess we’re doing this, huh? Having a baby?” It was very fast even for them, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it now. “I’ll make a doctors appointment when we get back to Chicago. Confirm everything,” she chewed on the inside of her cheek; they both knew already, but medical confirmation was necessary. A small hint of a smile rose to her lips, and Robin halfheartedly shrugged her shoulder. “I kind of judge us for not thinking this sooner, don’t you? It would explain why I keep throwing up, and why my boobs are so sore. They really hurt right now, in fact.” Robin frowned. “When do you think it happened?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

The thought of having another baby was a daunting one. He knew there wasn’t another person on earth he would rather be doing this with though, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t incredibly terrifying. Grant had done this once before. Although it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, so far, it had been the most rewarding thing he had ever done. Just watching Caroline grow up had been a pretty amazing thing. That was something to look forward to. That was something he didn’t have to be afraid of. “No more apologies,” he agreed with a nod of his head. They were moving past earlier, which was good. The last thing he wanted to do was relive that situation. A small chuckle escaped from his mouth as she pressed her lips against his nose. “I guess we are,” he mumbled out with a slight tone of disbelief. He gently stroked his hand up and down her shoulder as he looked down at her, grateful that her spirits seemed a little better. He was definitely still worried about her, but there was a small hint of happiness somewhere on her face, or at least he thought there was. “I definitely judge us,” he sighed, letting out another small laugh. “You told me you wanted to smell a bag of French fries, and you threw up in our pool. Also, your boobs are huge. They’ve always been great, but as your boyfriend, I really should have noticed that.” He shook his head as a smile spread across his face. Probably the most genuine smile he had worn all day. “Do you need anything? For the boob situation? I can get you a cold compress,” he offered up. If it was evident that Grant doted on Robin before, it was just going to get worse now that she was pregnant. He was always incredibly protective over her. It had been that way since they first met, and this was only going to intensify that. “I have no idea. We’ve had sex almost every day since the first time. It could be as far back as a month ago,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

The conflicting thing about all of this was that Robin wasn’t necessarily upset about the idea of a baby. At thirty-one years old, and in her financial situation, she was more than capable, it was just the idea of what her own health issues could mean for the baby. But the fact that it existed didn’t exactly upset her. It had surprised her, the situation had upset her, but a baby’s existence hadn’t, so now that she’d had the chance to cool off, she already felt a little better. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but it was what was happening, and she knew she and Grant could rise to it. Grant wasn’t crying anymore and seemed to be in agreement. As he began to list off all of the things that should’ve definitely been clear signs, Robin couldn’t help but laugh a little bit, bringing up a hand to cover her eyes. “Oh man, you’re right. Who smells fries?” She dropped her hand to look back up at him again. “You know, my cousin owns a bakery, and I asked her to make me something coconut flavored because I’ve been craving coconut super bad… But I don’t actually even like coconut.” She wrinkled her nose, the whole thing suddenly completely obvious to her. They’d been pretty blind. Although she offered him a grateful smile, she shook her head in response to his offer. “No, that’s okay. I’m a girl, I have periods. I’m used to my boobs hurting,” she shrugged, turning onto her back, though she stayed close. She instinctively placed a hand over her stomach, which actually did feel a little harder than usual. “I guess you’re right,” she nodded, glancing up at him. There was a soft smirk settling on her lips. “You’re still gonna want me every day, right? I don’t know if I can give up sex with you, you’re very hard for me to keep my hands off of.”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Another laugh escaped from his lips as she spoke. How could the two of them have been so blind? It was strange to think about now. Everything had been so damn obvious. She was requesting that he pick up food for her, and she was puking everyday. In hindsight, it was pretty clear that she was pregnant. But the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind before, which was ridiculous. They were two thirty-something adults. It wasn’t something that was impossible or even all that crazy. Sure, it was still early on in their relationship, but it was pretty clear that the two of them didn’t follow conventional rules when it came to relationship progress. “I love coconut. The baby and I already have something in common,” he joked, sending her a small smile. The fact that there was suddenly just this baby growing inside of her that they were unaware of twenty-four hours ago was a little weird, but he could feel himself warming up to the idea more and more. He reached down and met her hand on her stomach with his own, placing it on top of hers. He was slightly nervous about being a dad again to a brand-new baby. He wasn’t convinced that he was doing such a good job with Caroline. But lying there with his hand on Robin’s belly made him feel a little bit better. A little closer to the two of them. “Are you seriously worried about that?” He spoke up, shaking his head. “I always want you. That’s how we got here. Trust me, it’s very hard for me to keep my hands off you too,” he said, smirking at his own joke. “I can’t believe I got you pregnant,” he chuckled. “I’m scared. Babies are scary, but I think it’s a good thing. You’re the love of my life. This is definitely a good thing.”

ROBIN ST. JAMES

It was kind of difficult to picture the baby as a baby just yet, it was more so just a concept to her right now, but Robin was already beginning to adjust to the idea, and she liked that Grant wasn’t completely rejecting it. They were in the same boat, it was nice to have that. “I guess you do,” she laughed softly, nodding her head in agreement. “I love the smell of coconut. In fact, my hair smells like coconuts right now, right? I just don’t like the taste of it. But I want it. Maybe I should’ve realized when I thinking about licking my conditioner the other day actually…” As soon as Grant’s hand settled on top of her own, Robin immediately spread her fingers to slot his between, the way she always felt the most comfortable. She glanced down at their hands on her stomach, trying to picture the fact that there was a person growing in there. “Of course I’m worried about that,” she admitted, focusing on Grant again. I don’t want you to think I’m not literally very fine looking anymore.” She cracked a smile, nodding her head when he spoke. Robin stretched up to press her lips to Grant’s, about to tell him she agreed, but was cut off by the sound of her text tone. She normally would’ve ignored it, but it was her mother’s assigned tone, which Robin thought was a little strange, considering she was somewhere in the house. “Why is my mom texting me?” She frowned, slipping her free hand into her pocket to pull the phone out. She held it up in front of her, also in Grant’s view, and opened up the message: Robin, I promise I wasn’t eavesdropping, I was just walking by your room. Did I just hear Grant say he got you pregnant? “Oh, umm…” She glanced up at Grant, unsure of what to say.

GRANT MCCARTHY

They had already agreed that the two of them were in this for the long haul, so finding out they were having a baby wasn’t scary to him because he didn’t think they could handle it. Even though they had only been together a little over a month, they were the strongest couple he knew and he knew they could handle a baby. It was just something so unexpected. He wasn’t sure if Robin was ready for it or if she really wanted one. And babies were just hard. They were going to have sleepless nights and long days filled with episodes of Peppa Pig. It was a lot to have to deal with again, but Grant was starting to think he was ready for it. “We fucked against our front door because I couldn’t keep my hands off you long enough to make it into the house,” he replied with a laugh. “Wanting you has never been a problem. And I don’t think it ever will be. You will always be literally very fine looking to me,” he chuckled with a wink. He smirked as she stretched forward, knowing that soon he was going to be able to kiss her and show her just how attractive she was to him. He let out a small audible groan when her phone went off and she reached into her pocket to grab it. His eyes went to the words on her screen, immediately feeling his heartbeat speed up. “Oh, fuck,” he breathed out, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t whispered that. “Well, shit,” he cursed again, taking in a deep breath. “Tell them I said I got you a present. Yeah? That should work. I can’t talk to them the rest of the weekend then. We both know I’m not a good liar.” He exhaled as he glanced around the room, still shocked that they had overheard his words.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Grant was right, Robin really didn’t have any reason to worry. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands to themselves right from the very beginning. In fact, when she thought about it, that first time they hung out in her meditation room, before anything was going on with them, they’d wound up with his arm around her and her kissing his cheek. It was obvious that they were just drawn to one another, Robin realized she’d been an idiot to have cleansed so hard in an effort to keep him interested. He was always going to be, she knew that now. “That’s true. You bruised my back with that, you know?” She smirked, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m not complaining, I guess it makes up for all of those scratch marks on your back.” Robin couldn’t help but get a little rough sometimes, though she hadn’t heard Grant complain. Until he groaned at her breaking their kiss. She responded with a quiet laugh as she took out her phone. “It’s okay, I’ll fuck you in a minute,” she winked, though her expression quickly dropped at the sight of the message. Her parents were cool, they’d be concerned but they’d be okay with it. She was more concerned for Grant and how much she knew he was going to worry. She glanced up at him with a raised brow. “Baby, they’re not stupid.” She frowned, locking her phone and sitting upright. Robin brushed her fingers through her hair as she glanced down at him. “I’ll go talk to them. Do you want to wait here or are you coming with me?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

The fact that Grant always wanted Robin should have been scarier to him, but it wasn’t. Maybe when they were first starting out he was worried that he was too into her and there was a chance she could go back to her ex-husband. That was the furthest thing from his mind now. They were becoming more and more of a family every day. And the feelings were clearly mutual because she couldn’t keep her hands off of him either. They didn’t even have different sides of the bed. They usually just slept cuddled up together. “I think it was worth it. I know my scratches were,” he said with a smirk. Usually if her phone interrupted them when he was interested in making out with her, he would immediately move lips to her neck in an attempt to distract her. But he knew her mom’s text tone and he didn’t want to intrude on that. Especially since it was kind of funny that someone in the next room would be texting her. The smile on Grant’s face and his ability to joke around both dissipated at the sight of the text. He was freaking out. He figured they’d have a few more months before they had to tell anyone anything. It was still so early and they had just found out a few hours ago themselves. “Clearly I’m stupid because I don’t know how to whisper,” he replied in an exasperated tone. He was definitely annoyed with himself. He pulled himself up from his comfortable spot on the bed, regrettably moving his hand away from hers as he prepared to stand up. “I can’t let you go in there and tell your parents you’re pregnant without me.” He stood up and held his hand out to her, another small sigh leaving his lips. He used his fingers to fix his messy hair, not wanting it to look like they were in here doing anything. It was bad enough they were going to tell them about the baby.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

At least they were in agreement. Robin had no regrets about anything she and Grant had done in the bedroom — or against the door — not even the one that’d led to their current situation. This was clearly the plan for them, whether they’d made it themselves or not. Robin couldn’t ever regret anything with Grant, he was everything she never knew she’d been missing. And he certainly wasn’t stupid. Robin found herself frowning in response. “Stop that. My mom has ears like a bat, she hears everything,” she assured, watching as Grant stood from the bed. She knew this definitely wasn’t an ideal turn of events, but she appreciated that he wanted to be by her side, and she took his hand in her own as she stood, too. With her free hand, she reached up to fix his hair, deciding he wasn’t doing the best job at it himself, then gave his hand a small, reassuring squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay, okay? They’re just going to care that we’re okay.” Robin offered him a small smile, before leading him out of the bedroom and downstairs to where her parents were now sitting in one of the family rooms. They both looked up at them expectantly as they made their way into the room. “Um, we didn’t plan it,” Robin explained to her mom, eyes darting to her father briefly to gauge his reaction. Clearly Evelyn had told him what she’d heard, because he didn’t seem confused. “And we don’t even know for sure. I just took a couple tests earlier today, and they were positive. But we haven’t confirmed it with a doctor or anything yet.” Her parents exchanged a look. ”False positives are very rare, honey,” Evelyn said with an almost apologetic smile. Her mom knew her reasons for having never gotten pregnant before now. Roman stood from his chair, approaching them and settling a hand on each of their shoulders, for once not trying to joke around. ”Is this something we should congratulate you about? A baby is a big deal. How do you both feel?”

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant frowned as Robin fixed his hair, still worried about leaving their little bubble in her room. Everything felt good in there. They had both finally come to terms with her pregnancy and they were handling it together. The last thing he wanted was to throw more people and their opinions into the mix. But they were her parents. And if there was anyone that deserved to know early on, it was their families. He didn’t really care about telling his parents. They didn’t have the best relationship, but he figured he might tell his sisters. He followed her lead out of the room, his heart racing as they approached her parents. He was thankful that she spoke first, not even sure if he was really going to say anything at all. He tried to read her parents’ faces, trying to gauge how they felt about everything. It seemed like maybe she was right. They were just worried about the two of them. More so their daughter than her boyfriend that they had just met, but still, they just wanted to see how the two of them were handling it. Hearing Evelyn’s words about false positives didn’t surprise him. He had already come to terms with the fact that those texts had been correct. They were rarely wrong. His eyes followed her father as he came over and placed a hand on his shoulder. It somehow made him feel young. Like he was a sixteen-year-old who had accidentally knocked up his girlfriend. But his words reminded him that they were both adults and that this could be a good thing. It was a good thing. “I’m happy. I love Robin. I know about her reservations with starting a family, but I’m going to be there for her and the baby as much as I can. No matter what.” He smiled politely as he released his hold on her hand and moved his to rest on the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. “I think we’re both feeling good now, right?” He asked, looking over at her for confirmation.

ROBIN ST. JAMES

Robin had never imagined having this particular conversation with her parents. She thought that maybe one day if she did decide to have children, she’d be talking to them about how she was starting the adoption process. She definitely hadn’t expected to actually be carrying a baby, and not with her boyfriend of one month. She was confident that her parents weren’t going to be angry — she was thirty-one years old, after all — but she really didn’t know what to actually expect. She definitely didn’t expect Grant to be the one to reassure them the way he was, but it brought a small smile to her lips as she looked up at him. “Right,” she agreed, stepping a little closer to him. She almost forgot they were standing there with her parents, but quickly brought her gaze over to them for their reaction. Neither looked upset. If anything, they looked pretty happy. ”I’m gonna be a pretty cool grandpa,” her dad joked, and Robin felt herself relax, letting out a small laugh in response. “I know it’s really, really soon. It really wasn’t planned. He wasn’t even planned,” she grinned, motioning to Grant. She hadn’t gone looking for him, he’d just kind of walked into her life and the rest was history. She heard her mom laugh a little. ”Robin, you texted the group chat a week ago saying... what was it...” Evelyn made her voice higher, mimicking her daughter, ”Omg, I love him! And a bunch of heart eye emojis. I don’t know that the two of you could surprise us anymore.” Robin smirked up at her boyfriend, shrugging a shoulder. Roman pulled them both into a hug, apparently his way of congratulating them.

GRANT MCCARTHY

Grant never thought he would be having another baby. In all honesty, he never thought about becoming a father in the first place. Caroline had happened out of nowhere. And now this baby, well, this baby had also come out of absolutely nowhere. It was still two very different situations. Caroline was an accident when he was twenty years old and he was sleeping with a girl he barely knew every time he would pop into town. This baby was also an accident, but Robin was his girlfriend. His girlfriend that already lived in the same house and he did. It was clear that they were serious about each other, so if this was something they thought they were ready for then it really was good news. It felt nice to hear her agree with him. He never thought he would be the one standing there, making a case for why they were ready for a baby after one month of dating. “This was far from planned. A month ago, we barely knew each other, but I’m the best thing to ever happen to her,” he joked, laughing. For the first time since he’d been there, he actually felt comfortable joking around with her parents. Which was a good thing, especially since her dad liked cracking jokes so much. “That was a good Robin impression. How many heart emojis were there? At least ten, right?” He was a bit surprised when her dad pulled them into a hug. He needed more time to get used to all of this hugging. It definitely wasn’t the McCarthy way.