#request from a friend ! (sam lake coffee sip)

[miikpal]

champion of light 💡

[athenasbloodyspear]

Don’t Make Me Beg Now Baby

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

Hello fellow Greta Van Freaks. This is my very first Greta fic! I hope you enjoy.

MASTERLIST

Note: This fic contains mature themes, discussions of past non-con (no members of GVF involved) and drug use. Minors DNI. 18+ only and please take care of yourselves. (See Ao3 for full tag list)

You can also read this fic on Ao3 if you prefer!

Jake Kiszka x Original Female Character

Picture this: The boys are in Northern Michigan to write the new album and they meet a wild young woman who works at a local record store who has a rough history with rock bands.

She doesn’t want to fall into the same traps she fell into before. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

The rest of them just want them to figure their shit out.

Note: While this fic is based on the members of Greta Van Fleet, I obviously do not know them personally (lol) and nearly 99% of this is a fever dream I decided to write down. Some tid bits are based on things said in interviews/photos/songs but please do not come for my neck if you dislike my portrayals as this is a STORY that I have entirely made up.

This will be a slow burn, overly dramatic, cliché fest of me missing my Mitten State and wishing more than anything I could move back home. Their music makes me homesick and for that I’ll never forgive them. ;)

Chapter Under the Cut

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

The tiny bell on the door to “The Edge” clanked as Jake pushed his way in, followed by Josh, Sam and Danny. The afternoon sun streamed through the slats in the windows at a harsh angle, illuminating the swirling dust. The boys all immediately took a deep breath. They all loved the smell of this place. A mix of dusty old vinyl's, incense and weed. 

The Edge was the shop owned by an old friend, Levi, who had been a longtime family friend of the Kiszka’s. The boys had made the near three hour drive to the shop whenever they had a spare weekend in their younger years. They bought Levi out of his guitar strings and drumsticks and always looked through the boxes of vinyl's hoping to find treasures. Levi sold an eclectic mix of music equipment, records, books, home goods and comically horrific coffee. 

The Edge is where they had each bought their very first instruments, had their first beers and even smoked their first joint. It was a special place for them. 

The old wood floors creaked with every step, the wood walls were covered with old articles from Rolling Stone, photos Levi had taken and autographs from the artists who had cycled through the place over the years. There were stacks upon stacks of vinyl's. Shelves of old autobiographies and music theory books. There were speakers stacked from floor to ceiling, and the whole right side of the store was jam packed with basses and guitars. The back corner had a few keyboards and a drum set, but plenty of catalogues to pick even more instruments from. There were cases of drumsticks and guitar picks and strings. The middle of the store had tables full of incense, candles and interesting home goods. There were tables where local artists sold jewelry, art pieces and furniture. It was full to the brim, most shelves rising way up to the ceiling. Most needed a ladder to reach the top. The basement had a sound studio with even more equipment set up to be used to record, or to test out. 

Levi had inherited the place from his father, who had built up quite a legendary roster of friends over his years. The shop was just off Front Street on the main drag of Traverse City. Levi’s father had made a name for himself as a great host to bands looking to escape to northern Michigan to hole up in cabins and write albums. Levi continued the tradition and took it a step further by buying the space next door and turning it into a club with live music on the weekends. 

If you were lucky, you could catch some super huge bands playing for only about 100 people in the dark side room of The Edge. 

“You bastards finally made it!” Levi called out as he came sauntering out of the back room. Levi looked the exact same as the last time the boys had seen him. Tanned skin from his days paddle boarding and hiking along the Lake Michigan shore, sandy blonde hair that was brighter in the summer, perpetual 5-o-clock shadow because he just couldn’t be bothered to shave, shell necklace around his neck, light wash jeans low on his hips with the same old cowboy boots he’d been wearing since the boys were 12. 

“Is that grey hair I see Levi?” Josh leaned forward with an exaggerated squint. Levi laughed, snagging Josh’s head to give him a noogie. 

“I may be older than you punks by a few years, but I’m not greying yet.” Levi released Josh from his headlock and gave him a shove. 

“I’d say 37 is more than a few years older than us, grandpa.” Sam snarked. 

“You’re makin me regret extending my hospitality, kid.” 

Jake felt himself relax fully for the first time in a really long time. It was just like old times. Exactly what the boys needed. 

“Welcome back dudes. I’m surprised I’m still cool enough for you Rockstar types.” Levi crossed his legs and leaned back against the front counter. 

“We’ll never be too cool for The Edge. This place will always be way cooler than we could ever be.” Danny piped up, walking forward to wrap Levi in a hug. 

“It’s been too long man.” Levi commented as he smacked Danny on the back. 

“We know.” Sam said “Way too fuckin long.” He hugged Levi next. Josh and Jake followed up with hugs next. The room was heavy with a tinge of melancholy. Old friends who had missed each other finally reunited. 

“Well, have you guys been to the house yet?” Levi stepped around the counter and started pouring four cups of the famous nasty coffee. 

“Yeah we dropped our bags off before we headed into town.” Danny spoke up. 

“Isn’t it sweet?” Levi asked enthusiastically. 

“It’s wicked man. Thanks so much for getting that set up for us.” Josh grinned as he snagged a cup off the counter. 

The house was a mid century modern cabin right on the east bay shore. It came equipped with a huge garage studio, front deck and a dock out into the bay. Levi had bought the house in foreclosure and along with help from a bunch of locals (in exchange for beer of course) they turned the house into a perfect getaway for any artists looking to come take a break up north. The place had five bedrooms and three bathrooms with a giant living room with overstuffed couches and velvet chairs. The walls were covered in art and the shelves were full to bursting with plants. It was a kaleidoscope of colors and textures,  with mix matched rugs and lamps. It was Levi’s pride and joy. 

“I’m so glad you guys like it.” Levi smiled even bigger as he passed coffees to the rest of the boys. “Once you’re a little more settled, feel free to send me a list of equipment you want me to set up downstairs and you can start coming in whenever to work. But also, I think you should probably take a week or two off first. You all look about two seconds away from collapsing.” 

“Yeah we’re pretty fuckin beat dude. But we’ll send you a list ASAP.” Jake said, taking a burning sip of the coffee. It singed his nerve endings and he couldn’t have been happier about it. 

Levi opened his mouth to speak again, when a voice filtered through the window to the loft above the store. 

“Yo Levi!” the person shouted “Can you please get off your fuckin ass and pick music to play? I know Wednesdays are your day to pick but if you take forever I’m just gonna put on whatever I want and you can suck it.”

All four boys' heads snapped up to the window to the loft, but whoever was up there couldn’t be seen. All they could see was that the loft had clearly gotten a makeover. What used to be an upper level where Levi stored surplus supplies now looked like it had a plush velvet couch, lava lamps and plants in it. 

“Alright alright! I’ll get on it.” Levi called back up, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he walked toward the central sound system behind the counter to scroll through Spotify playlists. 

“Who the fuck is that and what have you done to the loft?” Josh asked, hopping up to sit on the counter. 

“That would be the very best thing that’s ever fallen into my lap. A.k.a my new store and venue manager Maven. She moved back to the area after living in Hollywood for a few years managing bands and she completely changed my life. We finally have consistent stock, a longstanding line up at the club and I have had the time to start photography again. Truly a godsend, if not occasionally a pain in my ass. She turned the loft into a breakroom of sorts.  There’s a couch and table up there now. She practically lives up there sometimes.” 

“Damn she must be some woman if she finally got you to get your shit together with that club.” Sammy piped up. 

“She’s hellfire, I’ll tell yah that.” Levi chuckled, finally hitting play on a playlist. The first bars of Surfin USA by the Beach Boys came on the surround system and matching groans came out of Jake downstairs and Maven upstairs. 

“Not this shit again!” Maven yells. Jake chuckled to himself. Hellfire indeed. 

“It’s my day to pick so suck it!” Levi called back before faux stage whispering to the boys “I mostly just play this to piss her off.”

Levi clapped his hands together once “Well boys, It’s close enough to five o'clock and I owe you a beer. Let’s head over to Little Fleet for some grub and beers and we can catch up.” 

Josh grimaced as he sucked down the last bit of his coffee before lobbing the empty cup into the trash at the end of the counter. “You still make shit coffee Levi.” 

“It’s the one thing I wouldn’t let Maven fix.” Levi said with a grin as all five men exited out the back door. 

                                                           ~0~

The boys took a week to relax, as per Levi’s request. They spent the days hiking the shore, kayaking and drinking beer around the fire. It had been way too long since they’d done this. The release of The Battle at Garden’s Gate had been exhilarating and the fans' response had been everything they’d hoped for. People seemed to love the album and they were all so proud. But with press interviews and touring, they hadn’t gotten more than a day or two to relax at a time. And they certainly hadn’t gotten a chance to get back to their favorite old haunts in years. 

They stopped by the store almost every morning for a cup of coffee strong enough to jumpstart their hearts. Sometimes Levi joined them on their escapades, and sometimes he stayed behind to help out at the store. The boys spent a few afternoons sifting through albums and strumming on some of Levi’s vintage guitars. 

Mostly they caught up on each other's lives. The boys recounted their more personal lives that happened outside the coverage of the album and Levi talked about the past few years of his life in Traverse City. Levi told them all about Maven and how she was practically his little sister. They laughed. They drank. They had a blast. 

The boys noticed Levi was a little on edge occasionally, typically when they heard someone shuffling upstairs or equipment moving around in the backroom of the shop. They assumed it was Maven but weren’t sure, since they had yet to see her in the flesh. A week from their arrival they were all sitting in lawn chairs in the alley behind the store, smoking cigs and drinking their coffee when Sam finally asked. 

“So, why haven’t we met your precious Maven yet? Hiding her from us or something?” 

Levi shifted a bit in his chair. “Um..” he coughed out a laugh. “I am actually. Yes. But it’s the other way around, I’m hiding you from her.” 

“Afraid she’ll fan-girl or something?” Josh commented as he ashed his cigarette.  

“In… a sense.” Levi coughed. “But in quite the opposite way you’re imagining.” 

“She’s a fan then?” Sammy piped up.

“She loves your music. A lot.” Levi sniffed and coughed again. “It’s a real safe haven for her. When she’s having a bad day I catch her upstairs laying on the floor smoking a J with sound cancelling headphones blasting your albums as loud as she can.” 

“Exactly how it’s meant to be enjoyed. With a joint in hand.” Jake chimes in.  

“Yeah..” Levi toes the asphalt a bit with his boots, but doesn’t continue.

“Soooo” Sammy drawls “Why can’t we meet her? We’re no stranger to super fans. I’m sure she’s cool.” 

“Um, well. It’s a bit complicated.” Levi heaves a sigh before flicking his cigarette butt into the coffee canister at the center of their little circle. “I suppose I can trust you guys. You’re friends. Do you remember the huge lawsuit that the band Undercover Heart went through last year? The one about the um” He coughs again, “Rape of one of their staff members by the lead singer Ryan?” 

“Yes. That shit was horrific man.” Danny spoke up. “I read all the details I could. They kept the poor girl's identity private but goddamn I felt so bad for her. She was a badass for filing that suit though.” 

“Yeah. She was.” Levi breathed. “So, this is strictly off record and if you repeat this to anyone I will skin you all alive, famous rock stars be damned.” 

“Jesus Levi.” Jake said. 

“It was her.” Levi choked out. “Maven. That’s why she ran back from Hollywood and ended up here. That dude messed her up and she just… she struggles with meeting famous bands now. You know how many people cycle through this joint writing stuff. She just… has a really fuckin hard time with it sometimes. Particularly bands she likes. I think it’s because once you meet someone, and in her case, discover how much of a monster they can be, their music isn’t… safe anymore.” 

“Fuck.” Jake said, flicking his cigarette into the canister. 

“Well I feel terrible for joking about her being a fangirl.” Josh mutters. 

“She just genuinely loves you guys a lot. I never really told her I was an old friend because I didn’t want her to be worried about y’all stopping by. I just know that if she knows you’re here she’ll take off and avoid coming by the shop as much as she can and not only do I need her here, but I think she needs the safety of the shop too. I didn’t want to wreck it.” Levi sighs again. “I know she’ll find out you’re here eventually, it’s inevitable. I just was a coward and didn’t want to break the news to her.” 

“She was a pretty well known band manager wasn’t she?” Danny asks. “She like… completely made Undercover Heart what it was. Before they hired her they were slated to be a one hit wonder but she hauled them into relevancy basically by her will alone.” 

“Yeah. She basically built that man's career for him. She gave him everything, and he took everything from her. If I ever see the man I’m liable to get my ass thrown in prison.” Levi mutters.

“I’ll help.” Danny says immediately. 

All five sit in silence for a few minutes, smoking the last of their cigarettes. When they’d all finished, they stood and stretched to head back inside the shop. 

“So yeah. Anyway, If you see her that’s fine, just… well now you have context for… her.” Levi says as he yanks open the door. 

A few steps into the back hallway, Levi suddenly halts, causing all four boys to nearly bash into each other. The front door to the shop had crashed open and there were footsteps stomping across the store toward the front desk. 

“Listen Levi,” Maven’s tense voice carried down the back hall. “I know Wednesdays are usually your day for music but I’m having an absolute shit fucking day so I’m playing Greta all day and there’s absolutely nothing you can fucking do about it, kapeesh?” 

The very opening chords of Edge of Darkness scratch through the speakers after she finishes her sentence and the boys all exchange a slightly amused look, grins spread on all of their faces. 

“Kapeesh.” Levi calls out to her. He spins and silently nods to the boys to head toward the back door. The boys attempt to be as quiet as they can as they creep toward the door. 

“Also, Levi?” Maven calls again. Everyone halts in their tracks. “You said there was a band coming in soon. Are they here yet? Do you need me to set up the backroom?” 

“Uh, yeah they’re here.” Levi squeaks. All five men share nervous looks. “They’re uh… up at the house.” He cringes at his lie. “I’m getting an equipment list from them today and then you can get started. 

“Cool cool.” Maven calls back. “Do you think I’ll like their stuff?” 

“Uh. Yeah.” Levi grins then. “I think you will.” 

“Wicked.” Maven calls back. 

All five men repress giggles as they skedaddle out the back door and into the alley. 

                                                        ~0~

The next morning the boys wake up to a group text from Levi. 

COME BY THE SHOP ASAP. COME IN BACK DOOR. HEAD DOWN THE STAIRS TO THE BOOTH. BE AS QUIET AS YOU CAN. 

A weird request, but they did as they were told. They all piled into the SUV they had rented and headed to the shop. Danny peeled open the back door as quietly as he could, and Sammy opened the door to the stairs. They tiptoed down and through the door at the end of the stairs that opened into the booth of a sound studio. Levi sat in front of all the mixing boards with a cup of coffee to his lips. He glanced over at them and softly said “coffees on the table.” 

“Why the weird text?” Jake asked. 

“Because of that.” Levi responded softly, pointing through the dark glass into the soundstage. 

The sound stage was littered with mismatched rugs, and a few milk crates that doubled as tables. There was a gorgeous seafoam green drum set toward the back wall and stands full of various guitars and basses. Along the left wall was a piano and a Mellotron set up exactly to the specifications Sam sent over. However, with all these beautiful instruments to look at that would normally catch their eye, it was the woman sitting on stool in the center, cradling a dark purple Fender guitar that made Jake stop in his tracks. 

Maven, Jake had to guess that’s who it was, was wearing checkered distressed pants, with a ripped up old band t-shirt cropped at her ribs, revealing a sliver of the rounded part of her stomach. Over top she was wearing an orange leopard print cardigan that ran down to her thighs. Around her neck was a series of long necklaces, and her wrists were adorned with interlacing leather bands. 

She was plucking out a melody with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth on the stool. Jake had seen countless numbers of people playing the guitar before. On the road, in the studio, studying old masters on YouTube. There was nothing overly special about the way she was sitting or playing, but he felt a little bit like he couldn’t breathe. 

“She never fuckin plays anymore man.” Levi whispered. “It felt like magic hearing music coming out of the basement this morning. I just felt like you should see it.” 

The melody she was playing was sad. Haunting is a better way to put it, and Jake couldn’t look away. Not even when Sammy placed a cup of burning hot coffee into his hands. She was moving her head along with her playing, the strands of her dark messy hair shaking back and forth. The group watched in silence as she played out the riff a few times, Levi cranked the volume of the mics in the space and they could hear her humming softly. 

“She has a strong presence.” Josh murmured. 

Maven suddenly stopped. Everyone froze as she heaved a sigh and stood from the stool to put the guitar back on it’s rack. 

“You in there Levi?” Maven said then. The boys still didn’t move a muscle. Jake’s head was spinning, having finally seen the face that went with the voice he’d heard in the loft for a week. She was beautiful. He couldn’t even really put his finger on why, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even seeing her through the thick dark glass of the studio. 

Levi hit the button to the mic in the booth and responded “Yah.” He paused before adding. “Sounded good.” 

Maven snorted in a self-deprecating way and said “Thanks.” 

Levi hit the mic button again and said “You should play more.”

“Don’t push it Levi.” Maven snapped back. Levi released the button to his mic and let out a heavy sigh. “Can you check some levels on the lines for me? I think I have everything pretty good but I want to make sure before they get here today.” 

“Sure.” Levi replied. 

Maven pulled the amp cord out of the Fender she had been playing on and plugged it into another guitar, one more similar to the guitars that Jake regularly used while they wrote. 

“Are we looking for a punk or a rock-y sound?” Maven asked. 

“Um.” Levi hesitated. “Rock. Their sound is like…” He tossed a small smile over his shoulder at the boys. “Like Greta’s actually.” 

“Dope. I hope they’re not just copying the boys. They’ve got a mellotron in here and everything.” The boys smiled. She pounded out a few chords on the guitar. “Good?” 

Levi looked over at Jake for confirmation. Jake, who still had not taken his eyes off Maven, nodded. 

“Yeah, that should be good for raw sound. They can play with stuff too. They’re a pretty well educated bunch.” Levi called back.

“Thank god.” Maven snorted. “Not like that indie punk bunch you booked last month who needed me to do fucking all their sound mixing for them.” 

“Maven, I don’t think they kept asking you down here because they need help with their sound.” 

Maven just rolled her eyes at that.  

They repeated the process with each instrument, Levi silently asking for confirmation from the respective Greta member until they were sure the sound lines were all functioning properly. 

“Great work kid.” Levi called into the studio. 

“Ew don’t call me kid. I’m a 27 year old woman.” Maven called back. 

Levi chuckled. “You’re a kid to me.” 

“Whatever.” Maven muttered. “I’m gonna go take a walk along the beach. Smoke a little. Text me if they need me.” 

“Will do.” Levi called back. The boys all tensed, looking for places to hide, or to run up the stairs and back into the alley. Luckily, Maven took the back door out of the studio and up another hallway instead.

“Well boys, it’s all you.” Levi said. “Text if you need anything.” 

Sam piped up and said “Yeah actually, can you pick my brother’s jaw up off the floor?” 

“Jake see pretty lady play guitar and Jake brain break.” Josh teased. 

“You guys suck.” Jake grumbled. 

Levi cackled. “I thought you’d like her.”  

                                                        ~0~

Maven walked along the coast of the bay and absentmindedly smoked a joint. It was an overcast and drizzly day which meant there was no one around, which she preferred anyway. She was feeling on edge. The drizzle was very slowly building a small sheen of water on her arms and hair, but she didn’t mind. The cool water and gentle breeze combination was perfect. 

Maven sat her butt down in the sand and stared out at the waves. She normally wore headphones on her walks, her world was a near constant stream of music, but she had opted for silence today. 

Levi was being weird. He was edgy around her all week, sending her out every morning for tasks and disappearing without saying where he was going around 4:30 every day. She had come to the conclusion that whatever band was in town this week was a pretty big name. Or big enough that he was nervous about her being around them. She sighed. She hated when he tiptoed around her. Maven didn’t blame him. When she first started working at the shop she had had a couple pretty bad PTSD episodes that had scared the shit out of him. She owed him everything for staying with her, talking her down and making sure she was fed and had water when she got into one of her states. 

Levi was her best friend, to put it mildly. He cared for her, kept her safe and in return she busted her ass at his store making sure they had the best products, the best shows and that their artist getaway was something that people would go back and tell their friends about. She loved Levi like an older brother, and he cared for her like his little sister. She would forever be grateful to whatever power in the universe made her stumble into The Edge two years ago. 

She had been high out of her mind, as she had been most days after she came running back to Michigan with her tail between  her legs, and Levi had been struggling with an amp in the shop. She had walked in, spotted his struggle and didn’t even say a word to him, just walked over and fixed the wiring so that it was functional again. Levi had looked up from where he sat on the floor and said “You don’t happen to need a job do you?” 

The rest was essentially history. It only took two months of seeing him every single day, and him not letting her sour moods go by unnoticed, for her to spill her guts over some bourbon one night. About Ryan and Undercover Heart and how badly the whole situation fucked her up. How after she’d recorded her testimony she’d boarded the next flight to Grand Rapids and hightailed it up north. She came crash landing into Traverse City because she’d always loved it as a kid, and figured it would be a great place to start over. The small town she’d grown up in had too many people who knew her. 

He was extra careful with bands for a while. Never letting her be alone in a room with too many male band members, and carefully vetting everyone who came through. Eventually she told him off about treating her like a porcelain doll and he backed down a bit, giving her free reign over lots of the equipment set ups and giving her plenty of hours in the shop by herself. She was happy to do so, so Levi could focus on fixing up the artist house and starting his photography again. 

But he was still very gentle with her sometimes, and she’d always love him for it even when it pissed her the fuck off. 

Once she’d smoked the joint down to the roach, she tucked the end into her pocket. It was sacrilegious to litter near the lake. It was too precious to be fucked with. She meandered back toward the shop. Her plan was to grab her bag and head back to let her Pitbull, Stacy, out for a walk and pee. The girl had been cooped up all morning and Maven felt bad. 

She threw her whole body against the front door, as the latch often stuck, and the loud sound of the chimes clanged in the empty space. She rolled her eyes. Of course Levi left the shop unattended and unlocked. It was Traverse City, no one was gonna rob them, but what if someone wanted to buy something? 

She was humming softly to herself as she made her way around the edge of the counter and plopped down on the stool by the register. She whipped out her phone to ask Levi where he was. She had the message halfway typed when the door behind her, the one that led to the staff restroom, popped open. 

“You know, crime is especially low in this town but that doesn’t mean someone wouldn’t come in here and try to steal your precious coffee maker.” She tossed over her shoulder. 

“Oh.” Was all that came back. It was decidedly not Levi’s voice. Maven spun back quickly. 

“Sorry I…” But that’s as far as she got. She was suddenly face to face with Jake Kizska and all thoughts quickly left her brain. 

They both stared at each other for a long moment. Maven couldn’t quite figure out why he looked just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. He also almost looked afraid for some reason that Maven couldn’t figure out.

He was dressed in an outfit she’d seen him wear plenty of times. A black button up, half unbuttoned, loose fitting light wash jeans and a pair of well worn boots. His wrists were full of bracelets and his hair was longer than the last time she’d seen footage of their concerts, well past his collarbones at this point. 

“Hi.” Jake finally broke the silence. “I’m Jake.” He reached out his hand for a handshake. 

“I know.” Maven replied, and then coughed. Why did you say that you freak? 

Suddenly the front door bell chimed again, and Maven whipped her head to see Levi coming in the front door. She stood abruptly from her stool, skirted around Jake’s outstretched hand, and out from behind the counter. She scooped up her leather satchel on her way. 

She headed straight at Levi. He glanced over his shoulder and saw an apologetic Jake looking forlorn and lowering his hand back to his side. 

“Oh hey Maven-” 

“Hey dumbass, don’t leave the store unattended again. I’m going home to check on Stacy. Probably won’t be back for the rest of the day.” Maven spit as she stormed past him toward the front door. 

“Maven wait-” 

But she was already outside, the hinges bringing the heavy wood crashing back into the frame. The chime of the bells rang through the space. 

“Sorry.” Jake muttered. 

“Not your fault. I knew she’d find out eventually. Right now she’s probably just pissed I didn’t tell her. Which she has every right to be.” Levi sighed. 

After a few more beats of silence Jake spoke again. “Who’s Stacy?” 

Levi huffed a laugh. “That would be her Pitbull.” 

“Oh.” Jake said again. He felt crazy because his brain couldn’t come up with anything else to say. She was prettier up close. She smelled like the Lake and weed and sandalwood. He really wished she’d taken his hand. He shook his head trying to find his brain in it somewhere. 

The other three boys came clambering up the stairs and into the store. They all looked between Levi, who was still standing in the middle of the shop, and Jake behind the counter. 

“Are you two playing freeze tag or something?” Sam quipped. 

“Jake met Maven.” Levi responded. The boys' heads whipped toward Jake. 

“And… I’m guessing it… went well?” Danny questioned.

Levi finally walked back toward the counter. “She left for the day. This is on me. I should have told her y’all were here.” He snagged his keys from below the counter and walked toward the front door to lock up. “I’m closing early, boys. Let’s go get a beer.” 

“Kowabunga baby.” Josh said with a grin.  

                                                     ~0~

Maven sat curled up on her velvet couch, Stacy was her little spoon. There was incense burning, a bottle of wine open on the side table and a lit joint in the ashtray. She had changed into a giant t-shirt and boxer shorts. The soft sounds of John Denver playing off her record player. 

However, none of these things were easing her mind. 

She was pissed, mostly. At herself. At Levi. She was pissed he didn’t tell her they were coming. She was pissed that he felt he couldn’t tell her. She was pissed that she had acted like a freak in front of Jake. 

The anxiety was an endless pit in her stomach. She couldn’t go back there tomorrow. She couldn’t see any of those people. Not when she felt like this. 

She whipped out her phone and quickly shot a message to Levi, before chugging her whole glass of red wine and snagging the joint out of the ashtray. 

                                                        ~0~

Levi’s phone dinged on the table where all of the guys sat drinking beers and chatting. Levi glanced at it and quickly picked it up when he saw her name. 

“It’s Maven.” He said. 

“What did she say?” Jake asked, sitting up a bit in his chair. 

“Fuck.” Levi said, tossing his phone on the table, still unlocked. 

All four boys leaned in to read the screen. 

CASHING IN ALL MY VACATION DAYS. I’LL BE OUT FOR TWO WEEKS. 

“Fuck indeed.” Josh said, pounding back the rest of his beer.

[jay-and-dean]

More like him

Dean x reader

So I had this request :

I loved it, but it was a real challenge because I thing it wouldn’t be really “Dean like” to go on a diet. It took me months to manage to be satisfied by it. I really hope you like it. Oh, and I added a little Smut, couldn’t help it.

For me this fic is kinda part of the Become that Girl “saga”.

Warning : Swearing. Sassy Sam. Suffering and mentions of unhealthy behaviors and drinking. Jealous Dean. Insecurities. Smut. Unprotected sex (you’re smarter than this). Angst. Fluffy Fluff.

This is both in Reader’s Pov and Dean’s Pov

Words : 10.3 k (yes. You asked for it.)

Jay’s MASTERLIST

Dean’s Pov

             A grunt and a yawn. I turn around, a little pain in my neck from sleeping on the same position for hours.

           I drank too much last night, again. My arm blindly searches for a bottle of water in the deep dark of my windowless room to fight the intense dry feeling in my mouth, but I find nothing.

“Shit.”

           One more night in a shady bar, one more hangover, and one more woman I won’t remember.

           Woman…

           I frown with my eyes still closed and think of her, my stomach gets sick. She was among the prettiest girl I have been with, and she was a little too young for me, I’m sure she wasn’t twenty-five yet. I remember her friends, young and fit boys and girls, celebrating a birthday.

           It’s really something how you see things differently when you’re drunk and when you are not. Maybe that’s why I drink so much : the sober truth gives me the creeps. Yesterday, I was feeling lucky, honored that a beautiful woman had laid her eyes on me, amazed by how confident she was. It felt like I had won the lottery of life, sex life at least. I was on top of the world, I could barely walk straight, but I didn’t care.

           This morning is different. I lay here, nausea making me sweat, disgusted by my own smell and the taste in my mouth, wondering how I came home. I drove Baby drunk like Hell, I could have hurt someone, or damaged her.

“Shit” I grunt again.

How pathetic it is to go look for a college girl to feel alive ? How pathetic it is to spend the whole time we spent together too focused on trying not to be too old or too drunk to actually enjoy any of it ? How pathetic it is to think of another woman, the very second my eyes open ?

I need coffee.

           I get up and make my way to the bathroom to pee and take a shower, I can’t stand the smell on me : alcohol sweat, the detergent of the cheap motel room I took not to bring her to our secret home, and, well, shame.

           After brushing my teeth, I drink all I can from the sink and wonder if she is here. I really hope she is.

Y/n.

The woman I call my friend. The person that have actually been my closest friend with Benny and Cas, maybe even closer. If she’s in the kitchen, she will make fun of me, she will make loud pan noises just to make my headache worse because she says hangover is not enough punishment for hurting my body like that. But in the end, she will probably order pizzas and spend the day with me in the Dean cave not really watching movies while talking about any kind of stuff from hunts to music, from social matters to memories, food -she talks about food a lot, with sparkles in her eyes-, movies, sharks during shark week, horror movie clichés, her childhood, mine, and really intimate things like Hell, Purgatory, like my mom, her dad, our dreams...

I didn’t know I had so much dreams.

           I put on underwear and the grey robe, then shuffle my way to the kitchen in the slippers that makes her call me grandpa.

           Sam is there. All energetic, dressed with those black sweatpants and this ridiculously tight shirt, he's pressing oranges or whatever, and it's noisy as hell.

"Can't you be quite in the morning ?" I groan with a pained frown, sitting with my coffee in front of me.

"Morning ? It's noon, Dean. So, how was last night ? I guess it must have been great considering how late you came back."

"You heard me come back ?" I ask, wondering how late it actually was.

"No, but Y/n waited for you, and around five a.m. she thought you weren't coming home at all, so she went to bed. That's why we haven't been running yet, she barely slept."

I look at him but he's now turning his back on me to fill a bottle with water.

           She has to stop doing that, waiting for me. I told her a few times already but it's like she was a worried mom or something. Y/n is always like that, she worries too much, every cut on Sam or me is a mortal wound, every yawn is a sign of exhaustion. And even if I secretly love this way more than I'll ever admit, I can't let her wait for me all night.

"Hey Dean" her voice catches my attention and I turn to meet her tired eyes.

How can she smile like that after the night she had ? How can she give me that kind smile? I really don't deserve it. I'm disgusting, damaged, violent even... Look at her.

           She walks in and I can't help but drift along her naked legs, strong and soft. She's wearing her working out shorts, the ones torturing me some days, those tiny grey shorts holding her waist, that makes it impossible to not linger on her thighs. The t-shirt she wears is one of mine, or was, since she never gave it back. It's a plain back worn out t-shirt that has really nothing special. She says it's the comfiest.

"Hangover ?" she asks, handing me a slice of her apple.

"Yeah" I grunt, taking it.

I don't like rabbit food and she knows it. So instead of telling me to eat some, like Sam constantly tried for a while, she just gives me little bites of hers. A piece of apple there, a bite of banana, a little of spinach on her fork... and I always let her feed me, maybe just because she does with that adorable kind of smile each time.

"You came back late" she states, turning her back on me.

There is not an ounce of reproach in her voice, but something slightly sad. Maybe she pities me. If she had seen my evening, she would for sure.

           A flash of that girl from yesterday saying my tattoo is weird and old fashion comes to my mind and I rub my face.

"Is there a hunt ?" I ask.

I really need a hunt, I really need some action and to get out of here.

"No" my brother lightly shakes his head.

"I thought I had found one" Y/n adds. "But it turns out it really was a bear this time !"

Her chuckle warms my heart.

"Movies in my room ?" I offer, trying to sound like it doesn't really matter, but the truth is, this perspective is what got me out of bed...

 Reader's Pov

             I cut another slice of apple with my hunter knife and give it to him.

"Hum, maybe later" I answer, looking away. "Sam and I planned on running to the lake..."

"The lake !" he almost chokes. "It's like twelve miles away !"

Sam chuckles and puts a hand on my shoulder, to inform me he's ready to go. He has been waiting for me a long time already, but I needed to check on Dean before I left for the day.

"Yeah..." I mumble. "And I want to practice my gun skills after, of fight skills if Sammy is not too tired from the running."

"I could help you practice too" he states and I give him a knowing smile.

           Dean is not interested in training me, he never was. And, unlike me, he barely needs practice himself anyway, so why should he care ? He's just the best, that's natural. He's Dean Winchester, the best hunter in the world, the best man, the best everything actually. Between the ladies waiting in line to get a piece of him and his friends, the parties, but above all, constantly saving the world... He doesn't have time for me. We're not made of the same wood, I'm from those who have to work hard to keep up. And I never want to be a burden for any of them.

"What ? I could !" he grunts and his brother laughs.

"Yeah right, Dean" Sam mocks him, giving me my bag. "You would probably get a stitch from just stretching with Y/n ! She's getting good !"

"Don't listen to you brother" I assure Dean with a little smile on the corner of my lips.

           I walk out of the bunker with Sam's back in front of me and bite my cheek, trying to ignore that sharp pain in my chest.

           That pain that fell on me again while I was waiting for him, trying to not imagine what he was doing, that dread burning my guts ; and the other, even worse, pain that kept me awake once I was finally sure of what he was doing.

Once outside, the tall hunter stretches a little, humming at the soft spring breeze.

"Why did you wait again" he finally speaks, earning only a sigh from me. "Y/n... I know you need to make sure he's safe but you're hurting yourself. Talk to him..."

"We already talked about this" I just shrug before I start running.

 Dean's Pov

             I stay in the kitchen, my heart pounding in my head, my liver struggling.

           Of course she won't spend the day with me. Why would she ? She waited all night and I was busy partying like those pathetic guys who didn't understand college is over.

You didn't even went to college...

Sipping at my coffee, I think of my brother’s hand on her shoulder and shiver, not really understanding why. I mean, he’s her friend too, a good friend actually, but something changed lately. They are close, more and more every day.

She used to spend all her time with me and now that I think of it… She does with him now. It started with morning runs, then there were going to the grocery store together. They cooked, Sam never cooked in his life, she taught him a few “healthy” recipes while I was making fun of them. Several times I found them talking until late in the library, or sending each other texts during hunts, when they were apart the whole day.

Maybe I’m missing something coming slow… Maybe the woman I think of the second I open my eyes in the morning thinks of Sam.

Why wouldn’t she ? My brother is better than me in every ways.

Sam is smart and educated, went to college and all. They can probably talk about things I have no idea of…

Sam is brave and fair. He’s the best man I know, and if I think of one man that would deserve a girl like her...

What are you saying ? There is no other girl like her.

But above all… Look at him. He just grew old way better than I did. All those healthy craps I always made fun of, in the end he’s right. While I was drinking beer for breakfast and eating fat crap, he was running, practicing. And yes, during hunts we're equals, because I was raised in this life, but if I had to catch him running, I would have a heart attack before he breaks a sweat.

I never cared about all of this. About having abs, comparing my body to my brother's, or about being healthy for that matters. Because let's be honest, I never really cared about myself. And girls like me…Right ?

Stupid.

What girls though. It was a long time since Cassie, since Lisa... And lately the one-night stands have had a bitter taste.

Sex with stranger was fun at first, for years it was. New body, new voice, new taste, and skin and preferences... I guess a guy feels pride by having sex with a lot of different women.  But most of the time it's far from great and I’m tired of starting over every time.

I just wonder how it feels to actually get to know someone intimately, to learn what makes them squirm, their secrets, to wake up next to a friend... Love must be so nice.

The only person I can think of is her, Y/n. The woman that is my friend and the only one I want tell my secrets, the things that make me squirm...

My Y/n.

I grunt, my heart beating too fast because of hangover, my skin still smells alcohol despite the shower.

I'm such a wreck and she's so pure. That woman overcame bad things, and I have seen her so depressed that she barely could move at all for days in the beginning of our friendship. And yet, here she is, smiling, running and dancing in the library at night, making me want to be better every day, to think more, be less self-destructive, to feel pride more than shame. Pride for helping people, pride for my little brother that I helped grow up, and pride for being her friend.

She’s always there, smiling when I need a smile, listening even when I can’t talk, rolled up asleep on a little corner of my bed when I had a night of nightmares. Her hand was in my back when mom betrayed us and chose to leave, like it was the only thing keeping me up…

I can’t imagine her gone, impossible. And I’m realizing, I can’t imagine her in the arms of another man. That’s selfish, but I have to admit it now. I love her. And I want her, I need her.

Yet all I do is pushing her in my brother’s arms. In my brother’s strong and fit arms…

 Reader’s Pov

             I’m running, my feet hurt and I have a stitch on my left side, my thighs are already sore and my skin and lungs are burning. But I ignore them. I run.

           I run to ignore my imagination and the images it brings. Dean laying on his back, giving his precious body to a blond girl that doesn’t even know who he is, how lucky she is. Dean grunting when she swallows around him. Dean grabbing her hair, biting her neck, coming inside her. Dean with two girls, why not…

           I run.

“Y/n !” Sam’s voice interrupts me. “Wow, easy tiger.”

Out of breath, he puts his hands on his knees and frowns at me.

“You know the point of all of this is not to faint ? It’s about endurance, not a sprint or a race.”

“I’m sorry, Sam” I sigh, my body screaming at me even more now that I stopped.

“Is this about Dean ?” he asks, making me roll my eyes.

“How running too fast could be about your brother ?” I grunt.

“You know perfectly why I say that” he shrugs, drinking from his water bottle. “Avoiding him won’t prevent the hurt.”

“It avoids the nausea from smelling cheap perfume on him at least…” saying that, I sit on a bench that is close in a huff. “I just…” I sigh, burying my face in my hands. “How do I avoid the hurt then ?”

“Talk to him” my friend says, joining me on the bench to sit next to me, his tall shadow wrapping me like angel wings, hiding me from this world I hate right now.

“Don’t be ridiculous” I scoff. “Hey Dean, could you not have sex with anyone ? It hurts me. Thank you.”

Sam lets out a chuckle and bumps my shoulder with his giant arm.

           A woman in an elegant sports outfit runs pass us, her tall form bouncing on her thin legs with grace, making her shiny hair fly. Dean would like her, he would totally sleep with her… Oh wait, we’re in Lebanon, there aren’t many girls that pretty around here, maybe he already did…

“How about ‘I have feelings for you’ ?”Sam suggests with puppy eyes and a childish adorable shrug.

I sigh, rubbing my face. Why doesn’t Sam understand ?

“Yeah so it can make our friendship awkward forever, with pity and shit” I look down at my hands. “Or so he chooses to erase my memory like he did with Lisa ?”

A silence falls between us.

           Sam knows what I think of this, how angry it makes me. Of course I don’t want to see him with Lisa, in fact my heart arches each time I think of what they had together, but take those memories from her… It wasn’t his choice to make. I happened to put myself in her shoes and hated it. I would rather long for a single smile from him all my life than being amputated of the only part of me I cherish : My love for him.

           The second reason I hate it is because of what it says about him : Dean is really convinced that he is not good enough. For anything, for anyone.

           During one of our nights in the Dean cave together, not really watching movies and drinking whiskey, he talked about it. And I know how much Lisa and him were meant to break up eventually. She wasn’t a hunter, and she didn’t really want to know about this life, even if she respected it. He was holding on to her like she was his only chance at happiness because, in his mind, happiness can’t come with the hunter life.

           Erasing her memory was not only a way to “protect her”, it was a closure for him. Away of closing the normal life door forever and throw away the key.

“You know he doesn’t think he deserves…” Sam starts but I cut him.

“Don’t.”

           I am a hunter. And despite the fact that I am desperately in love with my friend and going crazy with jealousy, I am pretty happy.

I am happy with my life, my heroic, never boring, full of magic life. I mean, they lost a lot, but do they think people with an apple pie life don’t ? Before I became a hunter, I went to so many funerals that the funeral home employees knew me personally before I hit puberty. And when you lose your family to cancer and heart attack, or suicide… You don’t even get to know for sure they’re in Heaven.

           But I am a hunter now, and I know. I am relieved and I feel safer, because magic exists, Heaven exists, and angels, even if they are quite different from what I had imagined.

“I just want Dean to be happy” I sigh and Sam’s giant hand rubs my back.

           That’s the truth. I wish with all my heart that Dean would realize he can be happy now. That the horror he has been through is over, and that the hunter life he can’t quit doesn’t mean he has to be miserable.

           And that is the reason I have to be the best friend I can. That’s the reason I have to swallow that jealousy that is making me bitter, to just love him, as selflessly as I can.

“Can we go home ?” I ask and Sam nods.

 Dean’s Pov

             I close the bathroom closet and swallow the pill, bending to drink water from the sink, then stand in front of the mirror.

           I never really thought of it, but I’m a little pudgy. My hips are not straight and firm, is my butt a little large ? I frown, making my wrinkles appear and sigh. And those freckles… I never really paid attention to them until that college girl said something about it. Something with a kind smile but her mean girl voice betraying her : “I guess it’s cute, but it always kinda look like the skin is dirty, you don’t have too many on the face so it’s okay”. Why do I have so many freckles ? Dad didn’t, mom either I think, not on her face anyway, and Sam… Sam’s skin is darker than mine, and perfectly smooth. Y/n must like that too.

Stop whining like a teen.

           I walk to my room and sit there, trying to ignore the voices in my head saying Y/n likes my brother. Does he like her too ?

           I take my headphones and turn the music on loud, closing my eyes, too bad for the headache, the silence is worse anyway.

           I’m in Hell, tied up like Alastair used to chain me, but I’m not hurt. Sam enters and points his finger at me.

“You will never be as good as me” he says. “Dad was better, I am better, and the woman you love ?” His laugh is terrifying, evil.

He puts his finger on my stomach and pushes it harder and harder on me, until it hurts.

Until it hurts a lot.

“You’re soft” he says, covering my whines of pain, that come out with my child voice now. “Dad was right, you’re too soft. Your heart is soft, your body too. You couldn’t say no to Alastair, like you can’t say no to a burger” his finger is so strong, like metal, and it feels like it is going to go through my skin and muscles any moment. “You have no self-control. You’re pathetic, Dean… Dean ? Dean.”

           I gasp, half sitting when I open my eyes.

“Sorry” Y/n says, and I look up to find her next to my bed, her hands up in a peace gesture.

“You’re back ?” I ask, still slightly panting.

The sight of her worried face makes my heart slow, and I notice she’s wearing that comfy pajama of hers, the very loose t-shirt draping lazily from her body, embracing her sweet curves.

“I got tired of running” she smiles kindly, finally plunging her hands in her sweatpants pockets.

I grunt and look at my watch, I have been sleeping a few hours, and I think the hangover is gone.

“I came to ask you if you were hungry and… You didn’t seem well” she nibbles at her lips. “Sorry if I scared you.”

I rub my eyes and give her a weak smile.

“You didn’t” I state. “I’m super hungry, yeah.”

I am. When I drink like that, I often skip diner.

I get up and grunt, rubbing my eyes. I thank her, walk to the kitchen with her and sit at the table in a sigh.

“So” she says with that radiant smile on her face. “I was thinking of making burgers. I know I don’t cook them as good as you, but !”

She turns around and shows me her phone screen, moving it too much in her enthusiasm for me to see anything. I chuckle and grab her wrist to still it, enjoying the softness of her skin under my fingers. On the phone, a recipe. “The best burger possible”, with descriptions of how to make the onions crispy, and to make the best sauce…

“Maybe I will finally make burgers as good as yours or close” she states, taking her hand back to read the recipe.

“You know you’re cute ?” I state, but I can’t give her the tender expression I intend to, as my dream comes back to me.

Maybe I should learn to say no to a burger.

“Not as much as your sleepy head” she chants.

“You know…” I clear my throat. “Maybe for once, we should eat what you like and not my greasy crap, like Sam says.”

She stops and turns to me with a pan in her hand and a surprised look.

“But” she pouts. “Me like burger.”

I look down, trying to think of something to say, she actually looks a little disappointed. She was so proud of what she had found… That woman is like a ray of sun.

           When I’m about to tell her that I would love to taste her burger, regretting having made her beautiful smile fade, she puts her phone on the table before me and starts looking in the fridge.

“I get it Dean.”

“Really ?”

“Too much alcohol, your grandpa stomach is fragile” she chuckles and I wonder how she seem to never show real hurt, annoyance or disappointment at anything I say. "Okay, you asked for it, I prepare the same for you as I do for Sam and me."

“Yeah…” I mumble.

           My eyes fall on her phone and my heart flutters. She forgot to lock it, and it’s the first time I see her wallpaper picture. It’s us. Just me and her. I remember that day.

           It was last summer, we were hunting a Wendigo that attacked campers, and had to camp ourselves in the wood for a night to find it. It was a beautiful night. When the photo was taken, I was telling a story, standing with a large smile on my face and a beer in my hand. Y/n came close, I don't remember why, and she wrapped her arms around me, holding my waist with her head on my shoulder.

           The picture really looks like we were a couple. She's staring up at me while I tell the story, her face inches away from mine. Behind us, that beautiful lake and a part of her blue tent. I don't remember who took this photo, and I think this moment must have been very short, or I would remember it. Maybe she just came that close to tell me something in the ear, maybe it was one of those quick hugs she gives me when I say something sad or mention being hurt.

           Why would she have that on her screen ? Before I can think of it further, her phone locks by itself and becomes black.

           I look up, her back is still on me, she's cutting something. With a discreet finger, I touch her phone, trying to make the photo appear again but her lock screen makes me sigh.

           Sam, of course Sam. It's a selfie they took together, simple and cute, both looking at the phone my brother is holding.

"I'm afraid you'll still be hungry after th-" she turns around and her eyes fall on my finger on her phone. "But if you are, there is pie" she states, taking her phone to put it in the back pocket of her jeans.

Like she needed to hide something, like she was embarrassed that I saw that Sam is on her screen.

           She arranges her salad or whatever she's making, puts a plate in front of me, and two others for Sam and her.

"Sam !" she calls and I look down at the plate.

I must say my it is pretty, all colorful. I recognize avocado, tomatoes... But as pretty as it is, it doesn't make me hungry, rabbit food never does.

"Oh wow, Dean is grounded or something ?" my brother chuckles, entering the kitchen.

"Leave him alone" she answers before I can make a comment. "His stomach is still upset."

Sam gives me suspicious look, I never ate this kind of veggie plate in my life, if my stomach is really upset, I wait an hour, and the second it's better, I fill it with beef jerky.

           I can see my brother is waiting for me to make a comment, complain. But when I don't, he just shrugs and starts eating, talking to her about something I don't listen to. I take a piece of avocado with my fork and when I look up to her, she's staring at me, her beautiful eyes searching my face.

"You can change your mind Deanie. I can still make bacon" she smiles.

"N-no really I'm okay" I state, eating a green thing without enthusiasm.

"Oh wow" Sam sneers. "Dean says no to bacon !"

           I swallow the lump in my throat and feel my cheek redden despite my effort to be as stern as possible. I don't need his smart words, and I don't need to see them being so perfect with each other. Getting up, I put the fork down.

"You know Sam, I actually can say no from time to time."

Leaving the room, I rub my face.

 Reader's Pov

             I stay still, my eyes on the kitchen exit where Dean just disappeared. Something is wrong, really wrong.

           I have seen Dean sad, grumpy and pushing people away, but this is new.

"I should go check on him after diner" Sam says. "He obviously have something on his mind."

"Yeah..."

My phone buzzes, it's him.

Hey Sweetheart, I'm sorry for leaving without eating what you prepared. Please tell Sam to not check on me. I'm going to bed, I'm just tired.

Dean is never "just tired".

Okay Deanie. Don't worry for the food. Please if you need something, remember I'm right here.

           Dean didn't come out of his room at all.

           I waited a little in the kitchen, finishing that stupid show I had started the day before, when he was out with yet another woman. I was hoping maybe he would show up to eat something, and then I could talk to him, but he didn't.

"Y/n" Sam's voice makes me jump slightly, frowning at the too bright light. "Did you fell asleep out of bed again ?"

I look around, my laptop battery died, I don't know how long ago and I have no idea of what time it is.

           My friend lets out a deep sigh, offers me his hand and closes my laptop. I get up and follow him, a new ache in my back.

"What was it this time ?" he asks opening the door to my room. "And don't say it has nothing to do with him."

I frown, close the door and sigh letting myself fall sitting on my bed.

"He didn't eat" I mutter and Sam rolls his eyes. "What ? You admitted yourself that something is off."

"Can I sit ?" he asks, taking place beside me on the bed when I nod. "Your crush for my brother, it was cute at first..."

I can see him hesitate, and I know I won't like what he has to say.

"But ?"

"But this is getting unhealthy" he looks down. "You know I love my brother, b-but I think he's not a good thing for you in the end."

My eyes get wet but I keep listening silently.

"Dean is... We all are damaged. You can't stand seeing him angry or hurt but, you know, he is most of the time. Y/n you can't keep spending your nights on wooden chairs just in case he need a freaking sandwich. You're a hunter, a warrior !"

I want to protest, it's not that simple. But nothing come out of my mouth. When tears roll on my face, he opens his arms, welcoming me against him.

           I can't love Dean less, he knows that. But for the first time, he's telling me that he disagrees ; and that changes everything. Sam was always the one kindly making fun of me or taking pictures discreetly for me to stare at on my phone at night. What if he decides he has to talk to Dean ? What if he gets tired of me, his best friend ? And what if he's right ?

"You have to talk to him" he states, making my fears cut my air supply for a moment.

"I-I can't" I sob, half panicking.

"You know he really loves you..."

I let go of his arms, not really wanting to hear more but he keeps holding me.

"What are you so afraid of ?" he sighs.

Dean's Pov

             I'm hungry. My stomach is gurgling and I feel a little dizzy, I need to eat, it's not like I was going to be more like Sam by starving or skipping meals anyway. I will never be like him. More like Sam is not only a muscle thing, he's also taller, smarter, better...

           Coming out of my room, I rub my face, thinking of her pretty face a little shocked when I left. I should apologize.

           After a very quick shower, I put on my grey robe and slippers again, walking to her room slowly.

           I rarely felt that weak, after my heart failure years ago, or after a big blood loss... But hunger like that, I didn't feel it since that week dad left and I lost the food money. I was ten or eleven... I remember feeding Sammy with stolen food, and eating only the leftovers, a piece of fruit, a crust of bread... Sam was starting to realize something was odd. I was so tired...

           I am so tired.

           I ate eggs at lunch the day I went out, then nothing on the evening. And yesterday... Nothing either. I haven't eaten for like forty hours, not even the crusts of Sam's sandwich or three gummy bears he forgot on the nightstand this time. And I'm starting to shake.

           It's enough. I will apologize, make coffee and breakfast for both of us, and ask her to come to my room to continue our "What you haven't seen that ? It's a classic !" marathon movie.

           Just when I'm about to knock at her door, it opens.

           Sam.

           My brother comes out of her room... in the morning ; his perfect pecks showing through his t-shirt and his arms covered of superman veins.

"Dean" he says, surprised.

Then he closes the door behind him, not letting me in, and I feel my blood go down on my feet, making me dizzy.

"Give her a minute" he states, and leaves.

           I stay in front of the door, looking at it like I could see through it. A minute ? What, is she still naked ? Panting ? Dirty ?... I shake my head.

I can't.

I...

She's my Y/n, how can he touch her ? How can he ? I need her, I need her for me... I can't...

           My breath is short and I try to fight the crushing wave of emotions almost making me fall on my knees. Sam is better, I'm a grunt, I'm damaged, dumb, unworthy... And I'm freaking fat !

           The door opens and Y/n bumps on my chest jumps, very surprised to find me here.

"Dean ?" she give me a well faked smile but it fades the second her eyes meet mine. "Dean... Are you okay ?"

I nod but I know the devastating hurricane raging inside of me is showing. And I'm not sure to feel my heart anymore.

"Deanie, did something happen ?"

"N-no" I state.

"Let's get breakfast" she frowns suspiciously. "I told Sammy that I wouldn't run this morning."

Why ? Are you tired ? Sore ? Did he hurt you ?

"I'm not hungry" I state.

The truth is I can't swallow anything right now.

"Not angry ?" she bites her lip. "What is it Dean ? Are you going on a hunger strike ?"

"No" I say and realize my tone is defensive.

She sighs and looks down, licking her lips, probably to taste my brother here...

"I'm worried" she whispers. "You didn't eat at all yesterday, and I know for a fact that you didn't get up for food."

"How can you be sure ?"

Her eyes are suddenly wet, and now I know what that fake smile was hiding : tears. It's enough to make me forget in a second about my own pain, about the crushing feeling on my heart.

"Because I slept in the kitchen again" she says a little coldly before walking pass me.

 Reader's Pov

             I have to hide my face. I can't deal with Dean telling me my love unhealthy too, or with his questions. And I can't cry before him, I wouldn't know how to explain it.

           I enter the kitchen and take eggs and bacon from the fridge. Hungry or not, he will eat a little, he needs it.

Not hungry... Is he sick ?

"Y/n..." he sighs behind me, but I don't answer, breaking the delicate eggshells against the pan edge. "Why did you sleep there ?"

"I don't know" I just say. "Why aren't you eating ?"

"I eat, Y/n."

"Not lately, no. S-so now I make you a real breakfast, like you like it, with meat and fat."

"Maybe I should stop eating that..." he mumbles for himself, but I hear him and turn around.

"What ?"

His whole body language changed. He doesn't stand with that confidence and dominance he usually has. He's hurt, hurt bad. He looks tired and pale, but not only...

"What is going on between Sam and you ?" he asks, low.

"Sam ?"

I slightly shake my head in confusion.

           I don't understand his question, I don't understand the pain on his face. Something happened when he went out, did someone hurt him ?

           Suddenly, a smell of burn come to my nose : the eggs ! I turn and try to save them but Dean's strong wrist grabs mine, making me turn to him.

"Answer please."

His voice is more somber than angry, but his gesture is firm and he's shaking. I can see the fire raging inside of him.

"What do you mean going on ? Dean... The food" I try to turn.

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT FOOD !" he suddenly yells, my heart racing and eyes wetting instantly. "I HAD ENOUGH FOOD FOR AN ENTIRE LIFE !"

           His vise fingers suddenly lets go of my wrist and he takes a step back, fear on his features, like he was afraid of his own emotions. Dean is an impressive and dangerous man, but I will never be scared of him.

           I wipe the tears that escaped my eyes and, on the surface calmly, turn off the fire under the burned eggs. Then I get closer to him and take his hand, way softer than he took mine a second before, under the slightly too long sleeves of his adorable robe. I decided I would be a better friend, it's my chance to be.

"If you precise your question, Deanie, I will answer. I just don't really get it" my eyes are on him, kind but firm, like I was taming a wolf.

"I..."

He doesn't manage to finish his sentence, the gearwheels of his mind visible behind his sparkling eyes. If I don't help him, he will run away, and burry it forever.

"What do you think is going on between Sam and me ?" I ask, noticing his lips are really white, even more than before. But I know he won't agree to eat right now, not until we fix what is bothering him. "Do you think, we're hiding something ?"

That would explain why he was staring at my phone yesterday. Sam and him have been deceived so often, lied to...

"Are you together ?" he cuts my thoughts. "Or is it just casual ?"

"What ? No !" I frown, letting go of his hand just a second. "Dean... Sam is my friend."

"He's perfect" he whispers.

You're perfect.

"He's amazing" I nod. "Sam is one of the best person I know..."

"He's handsome" he cuts me.

I search his face, and he nervously licks his lips. I take his hand again shyly, just the tip of his fingers. He will close again because he regrets those words. I have to answer quickly even if I'm really wondering what this is about.

"H-he is" I state. "Not really my type but he really is a beautiful man."

"You're always together... He... He slept in your bedroom" he says, taking back his hand. "You guys do what you want, but don't take me for a fool."

           I take a deep breath, I won't get out of this without saying a little too much. I little of what I don't want to say. But Dean seems to need answers, and what Dean needs...

"He didn't sleep in my room, I told you I fell asleep in the kitchen. He found me, and bought me back there, tried to convince me to sleep but I was worried... and sad. Why those questions ?"

"Sad ?"

I don't want to answer now, so I continue.

"And... I spend a lot of time with him because he's my friend and..."

Being with you sometimes hurt.

           He doesn't answer, and looks down at himself. Is he jealous that spend time with Sam ? We indeed used to be even closer, before my love for him started being out of control. Does he feel like that third friend the others forget a little for the fun things ?

"Dean, are you upset because I went running with Sam instead of watching movies with you yesterday ?" he looks away. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that you're not eating ?"

"I... I don't know" he sighs. "I'm a little dizzy."

"Sit Dean" I say, guiding him to the table. "Tell me what's going on with food. Please. You know I hate to see you bad."

           He rubs his face with both hands, his scruff audible under his palm. How I wish I could kiss this jaw, how I wish I could show him how much I love him, how I know who he is, not like those girls.  

"It's ridiculous..." he tries, but I sit facing him, and wait for him to talk. "I'm not... like Sam."

"Like Sam ?"

"You know... Abs and..." he motions his body. "All."

"Wait" I blink a few times. "Dean you're perfect."

He scoffs so bend a little to make him look at me.

           How can he compare himself to his brother ? Where do that come from ? I know Dean struggles with serious self-hate, but would never have guessed it would reach that subject, of physical appearance... Maybe this is about a woman.

"Dean. You're the most beautiful man I have ever seen." My mouth starts freeing itself from truth I kept locked, and I can't stop it. "I'm serious. Your face looks like some masterpiece with perfect proportion, y-your eyes are ridiculously green, your jaw could cut glass, your lips..." my eyes fall on them and my words get lost. "You're tall and broad..."

"You're making me blush Sweetheart" he says, he voices back to its usual low hoarse tone. "Still I... You know I'm... a kid when it comes to food, I never exercise..."

"Never exercise ?" I smile. "Three days ago you climbed inside a house then dug a six feet deep hole on the ground, and the day after you chased a monster, fought him, and carried his body to a place where you can burn it... I say you deserve a burger."

His face seems to light up a little, but his pretty pillow lips are still too white.

"But it's not working out, like Sammy."

"Dean... Your brother likes it, he need it to focus, to think" my smile grows and I speak lower, I know my admiration is showing, and it honestly feels liberating. "And he needs that to keep up with you."

"He doesn't" he almost chuckles, finally warming my heart.

"Well, you're the best. It's natural for you, but we have to work, especially me."

"You two are better than me" he states.

"We're not. And... Dean not eating isn't going to make you feel better about yourself. It's going to wear you out, make you weak..."

"I know" he sighs.

"Can I make you a breakfast ? The color of your lips makes me want to draw a salt circle."

He chuckles fully this times, wrinkles appearing on the corner of his eyes.

           I gently pat his shoulder as I get up, still not believing Dean could have insecurities like those. I throw away the burnt cold eggs and make some new, with bacon.

"I hear comments sometimes you know..." he says like it was easier now I'm not looking at him. "The things you said, that my face is nice..."

"More than nice" I admit, turning a little to him, but not fully to keep watching the pan.

"It happened that girls expect more under my shirt" he looks down. "I know it's ridiculous... I just, I don't know, maybe I feel disappointing."

"It's not ridiculous" I state under my breath, grabbing a plate to finally give him food. " Here, eat this, all of it."

"Like with the whole FBI look or with my seductive smile" he stops and grunts. "I feel like a teen."

"Hey, nothing like that between us, you know that. I told you about very embarrassing stuff" I reassure him. "And, what you're saying is interesting, men endure the social standards too."

"I... I don't know I didn't age like a model, I'm... soft."

Model.

"You know..." I start.

I pour two coffees and take a chocolate bar for myself, watching him before I keep talking, to make sure he starts eating.

"Delicious" he states, putting big pieces in his mouth.

"One of the reason I work out with Sammy is... Precisely because I don't want to look ridiculous next to two total models."

"Now that's" he starts, opening his mouth too big at how hot it still is. "That's kinda ridiculous. You're the prettiest girl ever !"

"I'm not" I whisper, softly blowing on my coffee.

"What ? You are Y/n" I lift my eyes on him, his lips are still a little light but shining with grease.

"I'm not like the girl you go out with."

           I don't dare looking up, but see he stopped moving. His robe is now totally opened, the belt got loose, and my eyes are lost in the black of his shirt.

"The girls I go out with" he repeats. "You're way better than those girls."

"Oh listen to you, that doesn't sound cliché at all" I say a little too coldly, a shocked expression appears on his face. "I... I'm sorry."

"You know... the girls I go out with, that doesn't really mean anything."

"I know" I cut him to make him understand I'm not asking him to justify himself.

But he keeps talking anyway.

"I have been with divorced single moms, witnesses... college girls" he says the last one with something bitter and I take this occasion to make it about him again, and not me.

"Two day ago" I ask, although it's the last thing I want to talk about. "It was a college girl, Deanie ? Did something happen ?"

"Yeah... no" he states, answering my two questions. "I just... I just realize it wasn't really what I wanted, not anymore. And that it didn't... didn't really make me feel good about myself."

"Too young for you ?" I try to joke, giving him a piece of my chocolate bar, feeding him like I always do, with everything I have in my hand.

"Kinda yeah" he answers seriously. "I don't know... She... I wasn't frat boy enough for her I guess."

"Yes, that's exactly the idea, that you're not that !"

"I didn't really, you know... enjoy it" he says and I fight the images coming in waves in my head. "I was too focused on trying to prove something" a dark chuckle escapes his lips. "I don't even know who I was trying to convince. And she... She didn't like the tattoo, the scars, the freckles..."

"Whoa whoa ! Who's that bitch ?" I lift my hands in the air, sincerely shocked, I never knew some women would be able to not appreciate Dean.

He smiles kindly but looks at the bottom of his coffee.

           Silence. I wish I could make him see who he is, I wish I could speak more, ask questions, but just talking about that stupid college girl that had him, but on top of that made him feel bad about himself...

"You look sad again" he cuts my thoughts.

"Sad ?"

"Yeah, it happens often. You start thinking deeply and you get sad" he says. "Listen... You're the most amazing friend, and woman, there is..."

"But" I whisper, echoing the conversation with Sam in my head.

"There's no 'but'" he shakes his head. "I was just going to say that I want to be a better friend, and man, for you."

"You already are the best" I smile but he doesn't smile back at all, his green eyes searching mine.

"I'm not. I let you down several times. I get why you would rely on Sammy more. I left you at this bar after that hunt when that witness was hitting on me. And I cancelled movie night twice to go out, just to feel... I don't know desired, loved maybe ? I know how absurd it is" When I'm about to talk, he doesn't let me. "And I worry you... coming home drunk as fuck in the morning." He rolls his eyes a little. "And with Baby..."

"I'm not your mom, I have to stop being so protective, Sam is right..."

"Sam ?"

           That's it, the moment I say so much I regret it my whole life. But I promised my best friend I wouldn't go on like this, that I would either talk to Dean, like he wants me to, or at list try to work on my feelings to move on. It's time to stop hiding everything from the man I love and make our friendship pure again.

"Sam says..." I clear my throat. "That... I have to care a little less about you, to care a little more about me" I don't dare looking up and let out a dark chuckle. "Won't be easy... I care a lot about you."

           When he doesn't answer, I finally look up, fearing what I will see on his face. He's just staring at me with an expression I never really saw on his face. His gorgeous lips are pink again, and the scruff on his cheeks, a little darker than usual, highlights the radiant light of his big beautiful eyes.

           He half gets up, bending on the table. And before I can realize what's happening, he puts his lips on mine in a soft, warm kiss.

           My whole body responds to it. The thin hair on my arms stick up, my heart starts beating my chest and my thighs get moist with a thin layer of sweat.

           I stay frozen for a second, looking at him in disbelief, playing the quick kiss again and again in my head as he sits back.

"I just..." he clears his throat and sigh, getting up. "I'm not Sammy."

Before he can leave, before this moment becomes a memory I will struggle to think as real, before I find myself in that hole of secrets again, I get up. But he's already walking to his room.

"Dean !" I run after him, meeting him at his bedroom door. "Dean. You're not Sammy. You're you, you're perfect in every ways."

           My heart is pounding. Let's do this, he needs this. Dean needs to be loved and I didn't know he needed reassurance. No one can to this better than me, because I worship him. I always said I wanted to show Dean he can be happy, and loved without changing his life for good. This is my shot at it, I may not be enough, I may not be what he wants or needs, but at least I can share with him. My devotion, my love, my body, all he wants.

           And If my heart breaks, let it be a happy sacrifice.

"Your freckles are like stars in a summer sky" he frowns when my fingers come up to graze his cheek. "I already liked freckles but yours... You make any other skin look plain and boring."

His face is so close, the delicious smell of his skin reaching me. His pupils are large, just circled with that green that could make me cry.

"Your lips..." I say a little lower, looking at them intensely.

From here, I can see the few freckles that made their way on them. Then I see his tongue, slowly wetting them before he bends again, catching my lips softly, his nose bumping mine when he opens his mouth to capture my upper lip, once, twice...

           I open my mouth and wrap my arms around him, deepening the kiss with a shameless hunger, and all my love in it. Something blows up inside of me, something strong : need.

 Dean's Pov

             No drunk groans, and no shame anywhere. I kiss her like it was words, and take her inside my room.

"Your smell" she says and I feel emotions rush in every one of my veins, but it's not disturbing like it usually is. "I could bath in it, live it."

I bend to burry my face in her neck, inhaling deeply.

           And I take my time, I have no reason to hurry, nowhere to go, no woman to come back to. She slips her fingers between the strands of my hair, letting me hold her close, drowning in her smell.

           I want to cry, and I don't really know why. Probably because of how right this feels. Because of that relief : She not with my brother. She is not with Sam...

"Dean..." she whispers, her nails gently grazing my scalp. "Can I see you ?"

I put a kiss on her neck and murmur a tender 'yes' against it.

           Her hands leave my hair to go down along my neck, sending shivers down my spine, and push my robe, making it fall like a cape at my feet. That’s how she makes me feel, like her hero.

           Her chin goes up without me leaving her neck, and she gently rubs her cheek on my jaw. In a soft moan, I open my mouth to leave wet kisses on her skin.

Maybe she can be mine...

"Sometimes your voice makes me shiver" she whispers in my ear. "Just your voice... It's so deep."

Somehow her words send electricity to my crotch and I can feel my boxers getting tighter.

           My hands grab her ass, pressing her against me and when she moans, I feel my cock twitch.

"Y/n..."

"You're beautiful in everything" she continues, her hands slipping under my shirt to stroke my back, her voice slightly weaken by arousal. "But when you wear henleys or just a t-shirt..." she kisses just below my ear. "I can get wet by just looking at you."

My cock twitches and I groan.

"Are you wet now, Baby ?"

She nods and I let go of her ass to cup her face, kissing her like I always dreamed of, deeply and hungrily, not caring of being in control of myself, not caring if I seem desperate.

           She starts to walk, making me take a few steps back until my calf hit the edge of the bed and I sit on it. I tug at her shirt to make her straddle me, but she takes a second to take off her shorts, revealing her beautiful thighs, and her white panties.

           When she finally straddles me, spreading her legs, I spot a wet stain on her panties and a low growl leaves my chest.

"Fuck... You are..." I say, my hand coming down to cup her sex through it, feeling the tip of my finger get wet.

Her body immediately contracts, and, with my middle finger pressed against her entrance, I can even feel her walls clench around nothing.

"How can you be so reactive" I groan.

"It's you..." she moans, rolling her hips just a little to feel my hands more. "Dean... No men can do this to me."

           My other hand comes up to take that worn out black shirt she stole with impatience, because I notices she wasn't wearing a bra underneath.

"Oh baby..." I let out, bending to kiss her breasts, my other hand teasing her more.

           I'm burning up, my back sweating, my cock painfully hard. I don't remember being that turned on in my life by so little. She hasn't even touched me yet.

           Her head falls back and her nipples point at me, begging me to suck at them, so that's what I do. Mouth open, I take one in my mouth, along with the most of her soft breast I can.

"Ah..." she moans and squirms above me. "Dean !"

My cock twitches at just hearing my name like that, my real name on top of that.

           I slip my hand in her panties, desperate to hear more, feel more. She's soaked, her thighs contracted and her hips rolling against my hand. She doesn't form words, but her body is begging for more.

           So I slip a finger inside her and feel her squeeze him, hear her gasps. I can't wait to be inside of her but that's not my only purpose... Oh God when she will clench around me ! I’m panting now.

"Please Dean" she whines, one of her hand going behind her to find balance on my knee, her beautiful body arching back.

I give her what she needs, another finger, pumping slowly at first, then going a little stronger, and my thumb on her clit, gently circling. I look at her with my mouth open in awe, a devouring pleasure making me high.

"Fuck" I pant.

           I should try to focus, make that coil inside me calm, make my heart slow. I don't want to be aroused like a teen, or I won't last at all... But I can't, and my free hand comes on my crotch to touch myself through my boxers a little, desperate for some friction.

"Dean ! Dean..." she cried out, now joining the movement of my fingers with her whole body. "I need..."

"Come for me" I order. "Show me how much you want me Baby, clench those fingers."

And just like that, she does.

           Her whole body shakes and her thighs crush me, her walls trying to milk my finger for what they can't give her.

"DEAN DEAN DEAN !"

My cock twitches so hard it's painful, I bend on her chest to not see her face longer, and try to hold back as hard as I can.

"Baby... fuck..." I whine, my whole stomach contracting and my cock pulsating.

But when she grabs my head to hold it against her and start rolling her hips hard to prolong her powerful orgasm, I can't hold back...

           In a very loud frustrated grunt I come in my pants, feeling my cum drip along my twitching cock.

 Reader's Pov

             My bliss makes me high, but my senses are at their full power, so I can feel what’s happening. I can feel Dean squirm beneath me and shake, I can feel his hand unable to move and hear his gasps.

           He’s coming.

           My walls clench even more at the thought and he whimpers against my breasts. So I hold him, I just hold him.

           When I finally can have the control of my body again, I look down at him and he withdraws his fingers slowly.

“Y/n…” he whispers. “Fuck I…”

“Did you came ?” I ask with the largest smile I ever had on my face.

“I… yeah… I’m…”

He seems embarrassed.

“Dean, that’s the sexiest thing I have ever experienced” I assure him, bending to kiss his lips. “No one ever wanted me that bad.”

“I still want you” he states, his hands stroking my back and going down on my ass. “I… I think you’re all I want actually.”

           My eyes get wet. In my head : every single moment in my life that made me fall in love with Dean, every day, every moment I craved for a touch, for his smell, every time he laughed and cried… Everything.

“Then you have me Dean, you can have me forever if that’s what you want.”

“Yes, I do” he says, taking off his shirt.

           With a large smile I push him back on the bed, letting him drag both of us higher on it. I look down at him, and a tear falls on his chest. His hand comes up to wipe my cheek, we don’t need to talk for a moment.

           My hands go down his sides, enjoying his firm chest and the soft line of his stomach, my thumbs massaging it a little on their way up, feeling the strong muscles underneath and the silky-smooth skin.

           I bend to kiss his collarbones, and his tattoo, palms still roaming everywhere like I always dreamed of, like I will always dream of.

“This tattoo” I say, drawing its contour with my finger. “It’s so you, it has a story, and it protects you. I love it.”

“And I love you” he states without a hesitation, his chin almost on his neck to see me.

A tiny emotional sob escapes my lips, making him frown a little and wrap his strong arms around me.

“Hey baby…” he whispers. “Y/n…”

           My hand goes down to push his underwear down, and my panties to the side. He searches my eyes while I do, and licks his lips in a moan when I grab his cock to guide it at my entrance.

“I love you” I say, slowly sinking down on him. “I love you, I love you…”

FEEDBACK IS WHAT MAKES ME WRITE 

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[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter two: you’re all i’ve got tonight

“i don't care if you hurt me some more, i don't care if you even the score. you can knock me and i don't care, and you can mock me and i don't care, and you can rock me just about anywhere, it's alright.” -”you’re all i’ve got tonight”, the cars

Bill wasn't necessarily cruel to her, albeit not from how Sam saw her parents and the way in which they communicated with one another during the mornings when she was growing up, and given she hardly saw him during the week except in the mornings and in the evening; however he seemed on the verge of cruel to Matilda and Cassandra. The first morning Sam spent the night there at the house, following Marla's departure and her realization that she was alone there in Lake Elsinore, she sauntered into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a bite of breakfast prior to their leaving for school and Bill about to head off somewhere outside of the house—and he never said where he was headed either—no sooner had she sat down in the chair when Mattie stopped her.

“We eat in the dining room,” she told her in a flat tone of voice.

“Really? When I was growing up here in Elsinore and then up in Reno, my parents and I always had breakfast in the kitchen before school.” Mattie shook her head at that. Sam frowned but she figured it was for the best regardless of what she dealt with as a kid. She picked up her coffee and her bowl of cereal and took her spot there near the end of the table in the next room over.

“I sit there,” Mattie told her, still in a flat voice. She moved over one. “Cassie sits there.”

Careful not to let her see her rolling her eyes, Sam took her spot right across the table from her. Soon Cassie came in the room, already completely dressed for the day. Indeed, Mattie was fully dressed herself. They merely sat there as well with their hands in their laps, while Sam had one hand on her spoon and another hand on her cup of coffee, still in her pajamas and with her hair unbrushed. They sat there and watched her.

Within time, Bill stepped in the room with two bowls of what Sam initially believed to be cereal and he set them down before them. She looked over at the tops of their bowls, at the plain oatmeal inside. It wasn't even oatmeal, just porridge.

The times in which she had oatmeal at her parents' house, Ruben always sprinkled some brown sugar or fresh blueberries on the top. But that was plain porridge as far as she could tell. Moreover, all three of them moved in robotic fashion, especially those two girls. They moved like clockwork to the dining room table there downstairs and they even ate their porridge in unison, to the point it made Sam squirm in her seat.

Even with her parents' marriage about to crumble apart four hundred miles away, all of her memories of the mornings before school consisted of having breakfast and watching cartoons, especially when she was their age. They were tiny adults as far as she could tell, but even as an adult herself, she knew they were lodged in a whole other world different from her. She drank down the rest of her soy milk.

“Don't you want to like—put some sugar on those oats, or something?” Sam wondered aloud.

“Why?” he asked.

“Plain oats in a bowl of water can't be very appetizing. When I was a kid, and on the mornings I had oatmeal, my dad always jazzed it up with brown sugar or fruit because he knew that there's no way it can be good for a kid.”

“But they are. These oats are inexpensive, but sugar is—forget it with brown sugar. I had to bust out a whole five dollars for a bag of that stuff just to satisfy your request for a cup of coffee. Same with the soy milk. I always look out for good deals, even with indulgences such as that. No way I'm wasting fruit on that, either. Cutting it up into pieces and then disposing of the rinds and the cores like that when they could be put to good use? Forget it.” She frowned at that. It seemed so strange to her; she remembered that Joey was rather thrifty himself, but he always managed to find a way to make things enjoyable with her. They had a strong bond to boot as well.

“How's the coffee?” Bill curtly asked her.

“Delicious. Nice and warm.” But then again, it missed something. The kiss of cream was perfect for her, but it lacked something within. She took another sip to wash down the soy milk and the rest of the cereal, and she stopped right in her tracks when Mattie and Cassie took another bite of porridge in unison. It made her shudder right in her seat, and she picked up her cup so she could go into the other room.

“Where are you going?” Bill asked her, still in a brusque tone of voice.

“I'm just—I'm just—” She could hardly speak.

“No, you sit at the table and finish your coffee. First off, it was expensive, as was that bottle of cream in there. The bag of coffee was five bucks, and the cream was two.” Sam almost burst out laughing at that; there was her answer to that. “Second, there's that nice carpet in the living room—you're not spilling coffee on that.”

“I won't?” she said with a raise of her eyebrow. He folded his arms across his chest at that and she stayed still there. All the times she had stood up for herself, and when Lars told her to do so that one time given the nature of her very name. She climbed off of the chair and she walked towards the kitchen doorway, when he stepped right before her, still with his arms folded across his chest.

“You're a rebellious little thing, aren't you?”

“Bill, this isn't school,” she scoffed as she adjusted one of the straps of her camisole. He shook his head at that.

“Not in front of the girls, please,” he told her without moving a muscle.

“They're just tiny adults!” she pointed out with a gesture back to the two little girls at the table, both of whom still moved in robotic fashion. “Look at them!”

“They're children,” he insisted and he never raised his voice for a second.

“They don't act like children,” she argued.

“Sit down,” he commanded, and he never flinched for a moment when he said that.

“Why?”

“Sit down.”

“No.”

“Sit down or I take your coffee.”

“Take it then,” she scoffed and she handed him the cup, and she stormed past him into the kitchen. She needn't drink down that cheap coffee, anyways. She needed to get away from those creepy children.

“You splurge on those type of crackers again, I'm locking you in your room,” he called after her, to which she whirled around and gaped at him.

“What?” She couldn't resist chuckling at that.

“Yes. I am locking in your room if you splurge on cheese crackers like that again.”

“I got those for them!” she insisted, “and what do you—” She laughed at that. “What the hell do you even mean by 'splurge'? They were like a buck fifty! Not even that! They were like seventy five cents each.” And he shook his head.

“By the way, you owe me a new glass.”

“By the way, how 'bout you buy your own damn glass,” she retorted, and he lunged for her right then. He never grabbed her but he did stop her right in her tracks by his mere presence.

“Don't you dare curse at me again, young lady, or I'm really locking you in your room. You're never leaving this house if you curse at me again.”

“Like you would,” she persisted. “Like you would do such a thing to your precious star student.”

“I would,” he persisted himself, and with a cold look on his face. She trembled a bit, much like when she scolded at Aurora back on New Year's Eve. The sole exception was that she didn't have the safety net of the telephone and a restaurant in Ithaca around her.

“I most certainly would,” he repeated her. She sighed through her nose, and then she realized where she had moved to: they may as well have been in arm's reach.

“By the way, I should tell you that I have friends nearby who might to want to come over at some point,” she said in a single breath.

“In fact I might as well just do it now,” he replied to that.

“Why?” she demanded, but he never replied to her. “Why, Bill? Why?”

Instead, he almost bumped her with his chest from his standing so close right before her. She staggered back. He kept on moving closer to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted all manner of recyclables stashed away in the corner of the laundry room. The man did not throw anything away.

“Why!” she yelped.

“Get upstairs now. Or I'm tying you up while I'm at it.” Sam fixed her straps once more.

“Do you want to see your precious friends again? Get upstairs.” He downed the rest of her coffee right then and there. He held the cup right before his chest even though Sam could clearly see on his face that he hated it. Fuming, she stalked back upstairs to the loft.

“Fucking sack of shit,” she said aloud as she closed the door right behind her; the joke would be on him, anyways, because the door opened into the room. She returned to the dresser on the other side of the room, right next to her bed, and she picked up her hair brush. The way in which her hair moved through the bristles made her think of Rapunzel.

If her hair grew long enough, to well past her waist, she could in fact hone her in at any given moment in the future. She need not dye her hair blonde, however, but she could in fact behave like Rapunzel. She pictured Testament outside, down on the lawn, and with Joey right before them as well, complete with the guitar before his body. He sang to her to let down her hair: given the very nature of his voice, she knew she could hear him from afar, from thirty feet off of the ground.

She stood there before the dresser when the warm summer breeze blew in through the window next to her.

The very start of August, almost time for the Santa Ana winds, or the Diablo winds as they were referred to up in the northern half of the state, when things were dry as a set of bones and easily set on fire despite the cold piercing feeling of it all. She returned to the thought of Joey, her prince who had come to save her from the tower, from the house upon the windy moors.

She turned her head again and she wondered if Bill would in fact seal her door shut at any given moment. It felt beyond reason, especially given he fretted about buying a bag of crackers for one of his own children: there was no way he would do such a thing, not with her being his supposed star student, unless he was genuinely cruel at heart.

She brushed her hair once more before she turned to the door once again and propped it open.

No way he could do it now: she was alone up there anyway. She left it open as she took her spot at the desk and began on a brand new drawing for herself.

That very thought of Joey down on the grass, with Testament right behind him. Or rather, she figured she would draw Joey solo.

She was near the Los Angeles area again. Somehow, she had to make her way there, and it wasn't until she and Chuck ran into each other at the supermarket when she made a mental note to ask him and Tiffany to take her to an art shop when they swung by the house in the next week. She also made a note to call up Marla again when things became quiet again at the house.

But things remained rather quiet downstairs all the while, such that she had no clue as to whether the girls left for school already and Bill had left the house as well. She waited until the winds picked up some more before she headed on back downstairs to the kitchen for some more cheap coffee.

Regardless of it being cheap, she brewed herself a new cup with a little kiss of cream. She yearned to have coffee with Joey again, and she yearned to have coffee with Alex at some point. So much more to that boy than she had originally assumed before, and she was about to see more of him when the time came. Something behind that cool demeanor and she wished to see it as she stood at the kitchen sink and she sipped on her cup.

Every day since Sam saw Chuck at the supermarket, and given school had already started despite the very heart of summer, for the whole five days a week, she always took to the desk in her room. Whenever she opened her drawer for one of her pencils, she always saw that piece of rice paper at the very bottom. Every so often, and careful not to damage the delicate nature of the paper, she slipped it out of the bottom for a better look at Alex's signature and his handwriting.

Almost three years she had had this piece of paper with her and it felt like a whole eternity ago back to the time Cliff was alive.

When she could make her way up to the San Francisco Bay Area to visit that field again, just to get a sense of his presence, to feel the mere memory of it all again even with his body incinerated and cast about that grass, was a whole other question. Metallica themselves were still up there, as far as she knew anyway. Meanwhile, she had no real means of driving up there, and she held out the hope that something would crop up and serve as her ticket out of there.

At one point, on Friday afternoon, she had considered calling up Marla again to find out if she had landed something at the school. But then again, if she did, then Bill would have said something to her about money. But then again, he kept the whole thing to himself. In the meantime, she wondered what she could wear that night when they came to pick her up the next week. Indeed, she wondered how they would even come to the house as well, given Bill dismissed the whole thing on that first morning.

She hoped to see Chuck again at some point between that day and the next Friday as she made her way down the block to the supermarket again for another sandwich and some better coffee. She had her own money to herself but she could see how Bill fretted about that sort of thing.

Every time she broke even with a dollar, she pocketed the change. There had to be something more to the house, however: if there were all manner of old books there, there had to be something more, like an empty jar given how much he worried about money and ridding of things. Or so she figured if that first morning was anything to go by.

When she returned to the house and she made her way back upstairs, she thought about that night in the following week. She recalled that Bill never replied to her suggestion that friends could come over when they so felt like it, and thus she could only assume that he disallowed it.

Or perhaps he did allow it, however he never said anything, much like how he never said anything about what carried importance such as money. She set down her things and then doubled back down the stairs for the cordless phone, and she returned once more up the stairs for Chuck's number. She sat down at her desk and she dialed it; at the same time, she had no idea if he was even home back up in the Bay Area.

And yet, it didn't even ring once.

“Hello, hello?”

“Hey, Chuck, it's Sam.”

“Oh, hey! I was just thinking 'bout you, um—hang on a second—”

“Sure, sure.”

He disappeared and in his wake, a hissing noise emerged on his end, such that it made her move the phone back from her ear.

“Yeah, just like that,” he said in the background, and someone behind him chuckled. He returned to the phone right then. “Sorry—I'm making chorizo for Alex, Greg, and Louie right now. Complete with homemade tortillas, too.”

“Oh, my god, that sounds so delicious.”

Someone behind him said something.

“It's Miss Samantha,” he told them.

“Hi, Sam!” Greg shouted in the background.

“Hey, Sam!” Louie chimed in.

“Hi, Samantha!” Alex followed suit in that big voice.

“They all say 'hi'.”

“Hi, fellas!” she said, and she couldn't resist the smile on her face.

“Hi, fellas,” he echoed her, and they both laughed out loud. There was a metallic clink and then he returned to her again. “Anyways, how's it going?”

“Um—listen about the Death Angel show next week—you guys might hell of a time getting here.”

“Why's that?”

“Um—are they right behind you?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you guys keep a secret?”

“I can.” He turned his attention to the three of them again. “Can you guys keep a secret between all of you?”

“I can,” said Alex.

“Yeah, I can, too.” The sound of Louie's voice made her think of what he told her about Zelda in the hotel room. The secret was out of the bag as well, and she wondered if Louie even could keep a secret as dire as that from someone, anyone, especially if that someone was Joey.

“I'll try to,” Greg confessed.

“D'you get all that?” Chuck asked her.

“Yeah.”

“Wish we had like a speaker or something to hook the phone up to,” she heard Greg say, and Louie laughed out loud at that.

“Okay, so. It's not complicated, but my counselor—whom I came out here with for my senior project—apparently—kinda—sorta—married me.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. When Marla and I came out here earlier this week, he made me sign some things, and they were like concealed so I couldn't see what they were, and apparently they were nuptial papers.”

“Oh, my god—is he even allowed to do that?”

“What is it?” Greg inquired from the background.

“When she and Marla came out here the other day, her counselor made her sign some papers and they were apparently for marriage. Like he duped her into it.”

“Is that even legal?” she heard Alex ask him.

“I dunno,” Chuck confessed, “doesn't sound legal.” And then he returned to her. “So what does have to do with the show?”

“He is so—cheap and controlling.”

“The dude's a control freak,” he told them.

“Total control freak,” she corrected him.

“Total control freak,” he echoed her.

“He actually threatened to bar me in my room!” she exclaimed.

“He actually threatened—wait, what?”

“Yeah! He threatened to seal me in my room if I spend money on certain things.”

“The guy actually threatened to lock her in her room if she even so much as spends money,” he relayed back to them.

“What the actual fuck,” Louie blurted out.

“Yeah, I don't get it, either,” she confessed. “I tried to stand up to him—”

“She tried to stand up to him,” he relayed it back to them.

“—and he like bullied me into submission. Like—literally backed me into a corner.”

“Just totally backed her into a corner.”

“God,” one of them muttered in the background.

“I kind of worry about you guys coming over here, to be perfectly honest.” She sighed through her nose and bowed her head a little bit. It was the truth: she didn't know if they could in fact break through to him, that is if they could. There was another metallic clink, followed by another loud hiss of the chorizo in the frying pan, and then it went away.

“Off the heat, boys,” Chuck told them, and then he returned to the phone again. “You said he's cheap, too?”

“Like, really cheap,” she replied. “I spent a dollar fifty on a couple of little bags of crackers for his two daughters and he yelled at me for that.”

Silence on their end.

“Chuck?” she asked him. “Are you there?”

“Sam, I will swim in that lake and burrow under the house if I have to,” he vowed.

“No, don't do that,” she told him. “Don't, Chuck. Please don't.”

“No, he's gonna be dealing with a guy who rides big bikes in his spare time,” he continued.

“Most badass—” Alex cleared his throat and then he leaned in closer to the phone. “Chuck is the most badass Native American since Sitting Bull. Mark my words, Samantha.”

“Uh, yeah, what he said,” Chuck quipped. “That sick bastard's not going to want to mess with me. I'm sure he wouldn't mess with Joey, either. Mr. Hockey Player. Hockey player who knows how to fight dirty.”

The mention of Joey's name made her close her eyes. She had only been away from New York for less than a week and yet she missed him so much, as if he had slipped through her fingers like grains of sand.

“Sam?” he asked her.

“I'm still here.”

“By the way, why does she wanna swear us to secrecy?” Greg called from the background.

“Yeah, why are we sworn to secrecy about it?” Chuck asked her.

“I don't want Joey to worry about it,” she told him.

“She doesn't want Joey to worry about her.”

“He should probably know about that sort of thing, though,” Louie pointed out from behind him. “You know, her being his girl and everything.”

“I don't know, to be honest,” Sam confessed, and she had to stop herself from laughing at that sentiment. “I'd rather he'd just miss me.”

“D'you hear that absolute statement, Lou?” Chuck asked with a bit of a snicker.

“I did, yeah.” Sam thought about Louie, and she knew that she had to call up Zelda at some point as well. Marla did advise her to call either of them in any instance whatsoever.

“Besides, Joey has enough to worry about, I would think,” she pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, he definitely does,” Chuck answered to that, “Anthrax are in the studio right now. Or—no. They went on tour—just yesterday, actually. Brand new tour, too! But—it would make sense, though. But—you want us to keep it all under wraps, though. So we gotta honor that wish.”

“Yeah, I won't tell a soul,” Alex promised from the background, and she remembered that he didn't really have anyone to talk to about that sort of thing anyway.

“I still want to come along to the show, though,” she insisted. “You know, I wanna see Death Angel, and I wanna see you guys, though.”

“She still wants to come along with me and Tiff to the show,” Chuck echoed her. “By the way, you coming with us, Alex?”

“Yeah, I might as well. Don't really have anything better to do at the moment except sit on my butt and read.”

“Don't blame her,” Greg said, “I don't blame her one bit. I'm coming along, too.”

“I don't, either!” Chuck proclaimed. “She wants to get away from that mother fucker and out of that damn house.” He then returned to her. “We'll figure out how to get you out of there,” he promised her.

“I can always do a Rapunzel sort of thing,” she suggested, “like let down a rope of sorts and climb out the window.”

He laughed out loud at that. A big hearty laugh that made her smile in response.

“I dunno if push will come to shove in that instance, but we'll figure something out, though.”

“Enjoy that chorizo, by the way!” she declared; ever so faintly, she heard the front door open.

“Oh, they are,” Chuck assured her, “especially Alex. A little too well, might I add.”

“This is damn good, though,” Alex insisted in a muffled voice.

“Before I go,” Sam started again, “you mentioned Anthrax are doing a brand new tour and a new album soon?”

“Yeah! Uh—State of Euphoria, I think it's called.”

“I like that,” she told him, and she smiled again, that time out of a time gone by her. “When's it coming out?”

“September, I think? I'll have to ask Charlie the next time I see him.”

“Anyways, I gotta go,” she told him.

“Okay—we'll come and get you Friday night. Don't know how but we're gonna do it, though.”

“Gonna get you away from that pig,” Alex called from the background.

“What he said!” Chuck said again. “You be careful until then, little Sammich.”

“Yeah, you guys have a good weekend.”

They hung up at the same time, and it was right then, she had no clue what was about to go down that weekend. She sighed through her nose as the silence fell over the bottom floor. The door propped open and she couldn't hear anything what was going on down there. She stood to her feet but she lingered there by the chair. She listened closely to the silence from downstairs.

It was tempting. It was tempting to walk out of her room and listen to what was being said down there, in the softest of voices.

And she bought into the temptation to an extent.

She stood within the doorway and she turned her head to the side to better hear them. All the shows she had gone to in the past never damaged her ears as much as the silence from downstairs, silence penetrated only by the intermittent soft voices of two small girls. The noise never damaged her ears, anyway, given she always wore ear plugs.

Careful not to make any more noise, she crept over to the top of the stairs and she stood there with her back to the wall. Mattie and Cassie's voices echoed up the first stairwell from downstairs. She wished to see what they were doing there at the very bottom floor. But she had no idea as to how to do such a thing without jarring them for even one second.

She closed her eyes and she pictured Chuck, Alex, Greg, and Louie in a small warm kitchen up in the Bay Area somewhere, all congregated around a small table and with plates of fresh spicy chorizo and homemade flour tortillas rested upon their laps. So simple, and yet she wondered how those little girls down below would react to it.

She thought about Alex and his cold stone face, the way he was so mature despite his youthful age and the gray streak on his head only added to it. She was able to crack through to him a bit, but these two girls felt like a challenge, especially with Bill never too far away from there as well.

Sam thought about her first weekend there, given they had started school so early.

Then she heard one of the two girls mutter, “Amen.”

She opened her eyes at the sound of that. They had come home and whispered a lengthy prayer. She never saw a cross anywhere in that house.

Alex's parents may have been non traditional Jewish but he wore a yarmulke and a Star of David once in a while: they probably celebrated Hanukkah and Rosh Hashanah to boot, too. But to hear that word only brought up more questions about this little family here before her.

The front door opened again.

��Hello, father,” one of them said in a flat voice. If it was Sam and Ruben, she would've been overjoyed to see him at the front door.

“Hello, girls,” Bill greeted them; his voice floated up such that if Sam moved a little closer to the railing down below, he probably would have seen her. But she moved forward a little bit, and she made out the sight of his blond hair near the front door. “Did you say your prayers?”

“Yes.”

“Did you read your scripture?”

There was that one instance during Anthrax's tour of New York City the year before, that morning where those women who walked by her and Zelda and they called their music Satanic as they kept on walking. Indeed, come the next Friday, she was about to see a band called Death Angel with three guys from a band called Testament; the only thing to make it even more potent was to have Exodus there with them as well. She squirmed in her spot there on the stairs and her stomach turned at that thought.

“Have you done your homework yet?”

Sam frowned at that.

“They're elementary school age,” she muttered. “Why would they have homework?”

One of the girls said something that she couldn't hear.

“Well, remember, the Lord is always on your side, especially on the bus rides to the school.”

And then it dawned on her. They started school so early because they went to a religious private one rather than a public, and ultimately free, one. No wonder he was so stingy with money!

She began to wonder if Marla had said anything to the people at the school about his still being on the payroll. If she did, then he would be removed from it.

And then he would lose his money and his sole income as far as she knew. Therein lay his reason for why he was so cheap. It worried him so that he was willing to become cruel to Sam herself. The whole thought made her heart hammer inside of her chest, and yet she couldn't speak to him about that sort of thing. He forbade her from speaking about it.

Instead, she ducked back into her room and she clasped her hands to her head. She didn't know what to say right then, either, and Chuck, Alex, Greg, and Louie already had it out for the guy, too, after his threat to seal her away in her room. Add to this, she knew that there was no way she could feel okay with his being cruel to her, either.

All she could do was wait out the weekend and maintain an appearance to herself. If something happened at the school, surely it would remain a secret as well.

“Miss Shelley?” he called from the second floor, such that it jarred her, and she dropped the cordless phone. She scooped it up and she stuck it under her mattress.

“Are you home?”

“Yes!” she called back.

“Okay, good. I need you to make dinner tonight.”

She surfaced from the room right then, and he stood there at the landing beneath her.

“What would you like?” she asked him.

“I found some really good deals on pasta—there's a couple of boxes awaiting you in the kitchen. And then just some sauce.”

“Okay! Sounds easy enough.”

He nodded but he never smiled at her.

The whole entire time she made dinner, she thought of Chuck in that kitchen up north. She considered tossing in a little bit of spices into the vodka sauce to liven it up a bit, but the one spice she found in the cupboard above the stove was cinnamon. Indeed, as she made up that pan of sauce, she took the jar down from the rack and she unscrewed the lid.

Not true ground cinnamon, but the very aroma of it reminded her of Cliff. How she yearned to have a cup of Mexican hot chocolate again, and how she wished to see him again.

Soon, dinner was ready and she served the plates to Mattie and Cassie, both of whom awaited her with their hands in their laps. After her realization, she felt a little more sympathetic towards them as she set the plates before them both.

They never thanked her but they picked up their forks and ate in unison once she and Bill took their seats in silence. He glanced up at her with a thoughtful look on his face.

“This is quite good,” he told her with his hand up by his mouth. “Excellent, actually. It needs a little salt, but it's good, though.”

Neither of the girls said anything but they did help her clear the table afterwards. Later, she turned in for the night with a new perspective on it all.

But at the same time, she needed to get away from that house. Away from the tightness of it all, especially since they were probably of the crowd that saw Testament and Anthrax as the music of Lucifer herself.

On Sunday morning, the three of them left for church, and even though Bill offered her to attend along with them, she turned it down given she didn't believe in the same things they did, either. Instead, she took her seat there at her desk with the cordless in hand and she dialed Marla's number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Marla.”

“Oh, hey, Sam! How's it going?”

“Alright, I guess. I ran into Chuck the other day—he, Tiff, Alex, and Greg are all gonna take me to see Death Angel down in L.A. this Friday.”

“Cool! Um, listen—I wasn't able to get a job at the school, as of yet. I got put on a waiting list for something, though, and Bel got me an interview at the glass studio she works at. Commutes to Albany are tough but I think I can do it, though. But I was able to tell Mrs. Robinson, mine and Bel's old counselor, about Bill still being listed on the payroll. She told me that's going to be rectified at the end of the month, like they have to send out the final check in two weeks and then he gets a notice on the fourth week.”

“Listen, about that—”

“Oh?”

“Apparently Bill's daughters go to a private religious school. He literally doesn't say shit about this sort of thing with me, but my guess is it's a bit pricey. Those payroll checks were the only way he's able to send them off there.”

“Oh, shit,” Marla blurted out.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he's gonna have to do something else, though. After the way he treated you and me both, and after he legitimately threatened to lock you in your room!”

“How'd you find out about—” Sam stopped. And she closed her eyes. “Louie,” she muttered with her head tilted back away from the phone, and she returned it to her ear.

“Sam, you can't let him get under your skin like that!”

“I feel kinda bad about it, though.”

“He'll figure something out, though. If he was able to maintain a spot on payroll this whole entire time after he got fired, he can figure something out for him and his girls.”

“They're creepy, by the way,” Sam confessed.

“They are? How so?”

“First off, they don't behave like little girls. They sit quietly at the dining room table before breakfast and dinner, like they don't even talk to each other. And they eat simultaneously, too, like completely in sync with each other. It's really weird, like unsettling, I want to say. Everything is really strict here—like really strict. Alex grew up in a bit of a sheltered household, but I doubt it was anything like this. It's all because of the whole faith thing and also because of the whole money issue, too. I imagine that getting worse when he gets kicked off of the payroll for good, too.”

“Ew.” Marla shuddered on her end. “Besides, how're the boys even gonna come and get you on Friday night? Because I remember how that place is laid out. There's no way around it.”

“I have no clue. Chuck even told me he has no idea. But—you know.” Sam rolled her eyes at what she was about to tell her. “I have faith in those guys, though.”

Marla giggled at that.

“Yeah, I have faith that they're gonna have faith in themselves.”

Marla laughed some more at that. It was good to hear her laugh again, even if it was for a few moments.

Over the course of that week, Sam made more art for herself, until Friday night came about. She had set aside her nice black blouse, the same top she wore when she saw Testament and Stormtroopers of Death both the first time around, and her black jeans, which had gotten rather low slung with the passage of time so they accentuated the curvature of her hips and ultimately her body. Testament themselves were going to be all that she had that night as well: the best she could do was sneak out of the house and meet up with Chuck and Tiffany at the property past the house.

The sun began to hang low over the tree line and the haze from the Los Angeles area not too far away from there.

Bill and the girls were downstairs doing some kind of study with their Bibles, which meant she had to use the back door to get out of there. But even if she used the back door, she still had to go past the living room and within their line of sight. No makeup on her face lest he question her for a second, but she had to time it right.

She reached the second landing of the stairs and Bill said something to the girls. A rustling noise and she knew that he had stood up.

“Shit,” she muttered. They were waiting for her outside—she didn't even have to look out the window in order to know that they awaited her—and yet she had no way out of there without a bit of inquiry. Sam returned to the loft on the third floor so as to gather her bearings and rethink things.

The front door then opened. Bill said something.

“Is Sam here?”

Greg!

Sam gasped and she hurried down the first flight of stairs at that moment.

“I'm—here to see her?” he replied; she reached that top landing where she spotted Bill before the doorway with his hands pressed to his hips. Greg looked so funny there in the doorway with him, that long beautiful dark hair down over his chest and the little stubble of a mustache over his upper lip, and his slender body wrapped in a black T shirt and low slung black jeans.

Like a dark version of Jesus himself.

“Well, she has a lot of work to do, son,” Bill sneered at him.

“No, no, it's okay, Bill!” Sam called out to him from the landing. He turned his attention to her with a finger pointed up to her.

“You have a lot of work to do, young lady—get back up there.” Greg widened his eyes at that.

“Well, I can take a break, can't I?” Sam pointed out. Bill shut the door right on Greg's face, to which followed a loud “ow! That was right on my nose!”

“Get back in your room,” he ordered.

“Don't slam the door on his face!” she yelled as she stormed back upstairs to the loft. She shook her head as she made her way to the window. Out there, on the block right behind the house as it ran along the lake's edge, she spotted Greg as he walked on back to the low two door hatch back royal blue car over there. Chuck awaited him on the outside of the car. From a distance, she watched Greg shake his head.

“Damn,” he declared as he rubbed his nose. “Got me good, too!”

“Well, fuck,” Chuck said.

“Well, we've got to get her out of there somehow,” she heard Alex tell them from the back seat; even from upstairs and a distance, she could hear his big loud voice. “Show's about to start in like an hour.”

“What!” Chuck was stunned at that.

“Yeah, dude! It's seven fifteen!”

“Shit!”

“Hey, there she is!” Tiffany called from the passenger seat. Chuck and Greg turned to the window and Sam waved both arms at them.

“Gotta get her out of there,” she heard Chuck tell them. There was a pause as she looked on at him, just like Rapunzel. If only there was a way in which she could tell him that the way out was through the back door, and she was close to it as well. Greg said something, which was then followed by another pause.

“Hang on, I got an idea,” she heard Chuck tell them. “Greg, come with me—this is gonna get us killed but it's gonna get her out of there, though.” He got off of the side of the car and the two of them walked along the road, along the lake's edge. Sam knitted her eyebrows together as she watched Chuck and Greg all the way to the back of the house.

“Wait here,” Chuck said to Greg, and he turned his attention to her. “Meet him here at the back door.”

She nodded her head at that, and she doubled back to the door with her purse over her shoulder.

Another knock on the front door.

“Who is that now?” Bill grumbled as Sam reached the second stairwell again. When his back was turned to her, she hurried down the next flight of stairs to the very bottom. He opened the door only to see Chuck right there, dressed in heavy black leather and with a red and white feather attached to one side of his head.

“Peek a boo!” Chuck lunged for him.

“JEEZ!”

Sam made a run for it right there to the back door. Right in her line of sight. Greg awaited her out there.

She jiggled the door handle. Locked!

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, but then she turned her attention back to the front door right as Bill shut it. She ducked into the kitchen and the window there over there sink. Greg nodded at her from outside. She opened the window and, with one foot on the sink basin and her other foot right out the window, she climbed through. She poked her head out, followed by her arm.

“Greg!” she called out to him and he hurried over to help her out.

“You got me?” she asked him as he took her hand and set a hand on her knee.

“Yeah. You got it?”

“I think so—” It was a struggle given she almost slipped on the sink basin but she managed to take her other foot through the window. She climbed out through the kitchen window and she landed onto Greg's slender little body. They fell on the grass in unison, and he groaned at the feeling.

“You okay?” she asked him as she lifted herself up into a push up position.

“Yeah.” He gasped for air and he gazed up at her with a goofy grin on his face.

“Hey, Sam hill,” he greeted her, and that brought a laugh out of her.

“Sam hill, is that what you called her?” Chuck laughed along from the side of the house.

“What in the sam hill is going on 'round here?” she laughed as well. She helped Greg to his feet and then she led him out of the back yard and into the street. The three of them ran back to the car right as the setting sun touched the tree line on the far side of the lake.

“Let's get you the hell out of here,” Chuck advised her as he took the keys out of his pocket. Sam reached the passenger door behind Tiffany and she poked her head into the back window where Alex awaited them.

“Alex?” He leaned forward and greeted her with a big toothy grin.

“Hey—” He froze right in his tracks with those deep eyes wide with fear despite the sun.

“What's the matter?”

“What's wrong, Alex?” Tiffany wondered aloud.

He pursed his lips together and held still, and then he bowed his head a bit.

“Very slowly—look—over—there,” he said through gritted teeth and without moving a muscle. Sam turned her attention to across the edge of the lake to the back door of the house, where Bill stood there with his hands pressed to his hips.

“Get in the car!” Greg shouted. “Get in! Get in!”

Alex scooted over and Tiffany leaned the seat forward for Sam and Greg.

“We gotta go,” Chuck declared as he climbed into the driver's seat, “—we gotta go—we gotta go—we gotta go!”

He fired up the car and they lunged forward down the street, only to find it was a cul de sac.

“What the hell!” Alex declared, but they were quick to make the turn around in there, all past the small houses there at the end.

“Hang on, everyone—” Chuck called back as Alex, Sam, and Greg leaned to the side with the turning. But then they doubled back down the street as fast as they could to the next block over. They kept on going until they past the supermarket. Out of breath, Sam leaned back in her seat.

“We out of sight?” Tiffany asked him.

“I think so,” Chuck assured her as they proceeded on to the heart of town. “Didn't look like he can get very far, either.”

“No, there's no way he's getting very far,” Sam added from the safety of the back seat and from in between Alex and Greg.

“That was intense,” Greg admitted.

“Very much so,” Sam added. “I wanna thank you guys, though. I couldn't be happier to be here right now. You guys are all I've got right now tonight.”

“Yeah, we get to hang out for real now!” Alex said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, yes, it's all fun and games now from here on out!” Chuck declared as he reached for something in the center console. “Little pre show ritual, ladies—and gentlemen. Some Motorhead to set the mood!”

She pictured Marla running down the street in Manhattan to those fast drums on that first song “Overkill”. They drove along fast to it, especially once they reached the freeway and began towards the heart of Los Angeles against the sunset. She nestled down in between Alex and Greg all the while: add to this, not only did her parents not know about it, but Joey didn't, either. And it was right at that moment, as the wind fluttered through their hair and Lemmy's growl sliced through the noise of the road underneath them, that she realized she had become a true bad girl.

[trashinaglass-archive]

Snowy Vacation

Request: Hi, I’ve been binge-reading your writing over the past few days and I’m in love!! If requests are open, would you mind writing a Harry Holland x reader where he proposes somewhere on vacation with both of their families and then fast forward to the wedding? Thank you so much and I hope you’re staying safe x

A/n: Thank you for bingeing my work. I’m so happy you like it❤️ I’m not gonna lie, when I first read this I was ready to give a hard no just because it’s kinda similar to a Tom fic I already did, but it’s such a sweet concept. I can’t turn it down. Hope you like it.

I tried to throw some roasts in there bc I feel like that’s all they do but I’m pretty bad at it pls give me sympathy laughs

Gif from google bc tumblr ain’t got near enough

Trying to plan a vacation with the Holland brothers was a task on its own; trying to plan a vacation with their family and your family together was a nightmare. You all had to find a date where everyone could get off work, take off school, and make sure everyone had plane tickets to arrive around the same time. By a miracle, you felt, everything had been planned successfully, and you found yourself in the snowy mountains of Finland.

You spent the night before introducing everyone and chatting before you were out like a light. You almost forgot where you were the next morning, but it was the most beautiful view to wake up to. The morning light was just peaking out over the horizon as you sat up in bed, taking in the new scenery.

“You think that’s nice,” Harry’s voice interrupted the silence, scaring you a little. “Wait till you see it at night.”

You turn to look at him as he leaned his against the doorframe, wet curls flopping in front of his face. “My hair drier is in the cabinet,” you inform him with a smile as you stand up, making your way toward him. “Don’t want to get hypothermia on the first day out.” You kiss him once before turning to leave him to himself.

The smell of bacon wafted through the air as you made your way up the steps, dishes clinking as the few morning birds ate their breakfast. “Morning, y/n,” rang out as you approached their line of vision.

“I made some breakfast if you’d like some,” Sam informed you.

“You’re the best, Samuel,” you said as you made a plate for yourself and a second for Harry, knowing he’d be up in a few moments. You place the two plates down as you sit and begin to eat yours.

“Awe, is this for me?” Tom asked as he appeared from his room, motioning to the plate beside you.

You shrug, “it was for your brother, but you can have it, it’s all the same.” He let out a quiet yes and sat down, shoving the food in his face. Tom and your brother were talking about snowboarding when Harry made his way to the kitchen.

“Morning, bro. Your girlfriend made you a plate, but she gave it to me because she likes me more,” Tom announced causing you and Harry to both laugh.

“You’re pathetic,” you reply.

Harry shook his head, making his own plate. “No, it’s fine. I got a good morning kiss, and you woke up by yourself. You can have a plate if that makes you feel special.”

The other boys laughed while Tom shook his head, blushing a little. “She still likes me more,” he shrugged.

Harry sat down next to Sam, eating his breakfast as your brother continued the conversation from earlier. “So we snowboarding today?” All the boys agreed with excitement in their voices. “You going too?” He asked you.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “I’m kind of worried about busting my face open. You guys know I’m not the most graceful.”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Harry assured you. “Mum mentioned going into town to shop or something so you could go with her.”

You nod, “yeah that’ll probably be better.”

“Dammit,” your brother muttered. “I was looking forward to seeing you wipeout.” You roll your eyes, throwing your used napkin at his face. The boys laughed as he cringed, swatting the paper away from him with a fork.

. . .

“I think I’m gonna do it tonight” Harry announces once the boys were in the car, driving to the snowboard rental.

Your brother grimaced, “ugh, please tell me you’re not talking about what I think you are because I do not need to hear that.”

Harry chuckled, “no, uh, proposing.” He had talked to his brothers about it, Tom going with him to pick out the ring, but he hadn’t mentioned it to your brother. He didn’t mean to be disrespectful and leave him out of the loop, but he also didn’t think to talk to him about it beforehand.

“Oh shit,” he replied with a laugh. “I was wondering when you were going to.”

“So you think she’ll be happy about it?”

“Absolutely. That girl- she cares about you a lot. She’ll be over the moon.” Harry smiled as he took in the sentence your brother said. It comforted him to know he was going into this knowing you felt the same way.

“You got the ring?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Harry answered, digging into his pocket to pull out the small leather box. Opening it to reveal the diamond inside.

“You brought it with you?!” Tom exclaimed in confusion.

“Well I couldn’t leave it there for her to possibly find, now could I?”

“Let me see,” Sam interrupted, leaning closer to the front seat. Harry turned around in his seat, showing off the ring he chose- an oval diamond sitting upon a thin silver band. “That’s gorgeous.”

“She’s gonna love that.”

“I hope so.” Harry laughed, recalling all the times you’d shown him different pictures of manicures you loved. “She wasn’t too subtle getting the message across,” he joked.

“At least she tried, dude. My girl didn’t leave me any kind of hints before I proposed to her. Total shot in the dark,” your brother shared.

“I reckon it went well then?” Tom asked, amused by the story.

He nodded, “five years and counting.”

. . .

“So how was your flight down?” Nikki asked as you walked down the streets of Finland. After stopping in a few shops, you had decided to walk around and take in the beautiful sights, admiring the cute lights hanging in the midst of the snowy town.

“It was good,” you told her. “A little long for my liking, but compared to some people, I can’t complain.”

She nodded, understanding completely. “Yeah, those boys. I’m not sure how they do it.” There was a cute little coffee shop ahead that you decided to stop at to warm back up.

“And speaking of boys,” your mom chimed in, looking at you. “What’s going on with yours?”

“What do you mean?” You asked with a confused expression.

Your mom shrugged, taking a sip of coffee before answering. “Just- how is everything? And can we expect a ring anytime soon?” She nudged you with her shoulder.

“Mom!” You exclaimed in a hushed tone, slightly embarrassed that she’s asking in front of Harry’s mother, but Nikki laughed along with her.

“What?! I’m just curious,” she defended. “You two have been dating nearly as long as your brother’s been married.”

“We’ve talked about it, but I’m not sure it’ll happen soon.”

“How fun would it be if he did it here? With everyone around?” Your mom suggested.

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I feel like he’d prefer to do it in a more private setting.”

“Think about how beautiful those pictures would be though,” Nikki chimed in. “The mountains, the northern lights!”

“If they show up,” you remind her. The northern lights were gorgeous and something you’d always dreamed to see in person, but they weren’t promised. They change and appear when they want to. There was little guarantee with Mother Nature.

Both moms pointed a finger at you, signaling you were correct. Nikki pulled her phone out, reading a text from her husband.

“Dom says they’re headed back to the house now. Why don’t we make our way back to?”

. . .

Everyone decided to end the day with dinner at a nice restaurant recommended by one of the rangers the boys bumped into earlier. After it was done, everyone piled back into the home while you and Harry decided to talk a short walk around the area. You were surrounded by trees as you approach the edge of the lake, water lapping as you gasped.

“Harry, the lights!” You exclaimed before turning back to him but finding him on a knee with his hand in his pocket.

He chuckled nervously as he began to speak. Your hands moved to cover your mouth as you realized what he was doing, tears ready to fall.

“I spent all day trying to come up with the perfect speech, but now I’m drawing blanks,” he laughed. He pulled the box out of his pocket, holding it tightly in both hands. “I love you, and I want forever with you. So, will you marry me?”

He opened the box to show you the gorgeous ring inside, but your eyes were so flooded with tears you could hardly make it out.

“Yes.”

You buried your face into his neck as he hugged you tight, the cheers from both families coming from behind you. After a moment, Harry pulled away, taking the ring out of the box to slide on your finger.

. . .

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to introduce to you for the first time- Mr and Mrs Harry Holland.”

Screams of excitement erupt as you and Harry make your way inside the venue. It was such a surreal moment to experience, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. The two of you stood in the middle of the dance floor as you go straight to your first dance, the soft music blaring over the speakers as you look to your new husband. Foreheads presses together as you focus on yourselves until you were forced to talk to your friends and family.

Once the first dance was finished, you made your way to the table were you were instructed to sit.

“Hey, everyone!” Tom spoke as all the brothers made their way to the front of the stage. “We wanted to do something nice for the newly weds today so we decided to make a short video to relive some memories and just share the reason why we’re all here today.”

“So this our wedding present to you from your brothers. We love you guys,” Sam nodded before stepped down with the other boys.

“Awe,” you said as the lights dimmed and images popped up on the wall. The first picture being the first picture you two ever took together, transitioning to the picture in Finland when you got engaged- the green streams of light making the picture stand out.

Nikki tapped your shoulder as she noticed it, whispering, “told you it would be gorgeous.” You laughed. Pictures and short videos continued to flip through as you tried your hardest not to cry.

‘Y/n!’ Paddy yelled as he appeared on the screen. ‘I’m so excited that you are officially joining our family. You really are the best sister I could ever ask for, and please let me stay over when mum and dad get annoying!’ He finished, throwing a thumbs up as everyone laughed.

‘Congrats you guys! You both deserve the world, and I’m so happy for you. Take care of my twin for me!’ Sam smiled to the camera.

‘Welcome to family, y/n! You’re such a great partner for Harry, and you’ve always been so kind to all of us. I really can’t see our lives without you so thanks for marrying this div. Love you both,’ Tom waved as the screen went back to the different photos and films before fading to black. Harry & y/n Holland appearing on the screen in beautiful cursive with your wedding date below it.

Everyone clapped as the lights came back on. The brothers making their way to your table- you and Harry standing to hug them, thanking them for the sweet film.

“Group hug!” Paddy yelled and the boys all engulfed you in a big hug between the four of them. You laughed but thought about how much you loved the three crazy boys surrounding you. You were so lucky to find your way to Harry.

[nev3rfound]

bitter sweet : p.p

brief summary: being tonys daughter and feeling resentful that peter always spent more time with your dad than you did. that resent dies down after his death, as peter begins to comfort you in these difficult times

word count: 2.5k requested: yes, by the lovely @tearsforhan warnings: endgame spoilers 

* masterlistin’ 

* commissions (i’ll keep adding it as i hope someday it might get clicked lmao)

Ever since he showed up alongside your Dad, you could tell things were going to be different. The kid had a bright goofy smile, that glint in his eyes that your Dad couldn’t resist. You knew you were going to be cast into the shadows, let him take the limelight as your Dad focused his time and energy into him, not you. 

Sitting in your Dad’s lab, you worked in the corner with your back turned, headphones on. It was one time you could truly zone out from everything and focus on making something that’ll benefit someone, maybe even yourself. You could work, hum along to songs and not be interrupted. That was until Peter came bounding in behind your Dad, muttering apologies to the inanimate objects he nudged. 

You would roll your eyes, seeing the excitement lighting up in Peter’s face as your Dad would like to him like he was the son he never had. At that point, you would turn back around, not wanting to listen to all the great things your Dad had lined up for Peter, not you. 

When it came down to everything with Thanos, you were with your Mom. Pepper ran into the house, out of breath with wide eyes. She sat you down, held your hands and explained what was going to happen and that you needed to stay safe. For once, you were not allowed to fight, you had to stay hidden and out of harm's way. 

“I might lose your Dad, I can’t lose you too.” You remember your Mom telling you those specific words as tears lined her eyes. She wanted to be strong for you, but you knew she couldn’t, you were a young woman now, not a child. 

Sitting in the compound, you felt it happen. The snap occurs as your Mom gripped your hand tightly. Neither of you knew what it meant, but you could feel it, you felt part of you being pulled away. 

As the Avengers returned, half of the team that is you watched them all. You waited to see your Dad exit the Quinjet, eager to go help him. But as Steve stepped down, no one was walking behind him. He watched as tears filled your eyes as sobs began to escape your lips. Pepper shook her head, not wanting to believe it. “I’m sorry.” Is all Steve could say. 

Later, you learnt he was alive. No one knew where he was, or if he was still alive. But everyone hoped he was, everyone needed Tony to still be alive. You and Pepper needed it more than the world right now, he was your family first and foremost.

The evening you saw a bright flash of light across the sky, you were on the roof with Natasha. She was trying to figure a few things out, track who was lost when it happened. You stood up, hand resting on her shoulder as a woman glowing held a ship above her head. 

You all ran down to see her step forward, pulling the door off as an exhausted Nebula walked out. No one ran to her, but she was never one to expect a warm reception it turns out. But as your Dad took an uneasy step, you ran without thought. He held you close, breathing in the smell of home as you felt him quietly sob. 

With the help of Pepper, Tony made it down the steps of the ship where Steve stepped forward. “I lost the kid.” Is all your Dad managed to make out before he fell to the ground.

*

Five long years had passed by. You stayed in New York whilst your parents moved out of the city. Every weekend, you would go and visit, sit with Morgan and play with her. Everyone needed the time away, you could understand why they picked the place. 

When you were with your family, no one spoke of it. In the house, it was only about your family, you didn’t have to discuss the extended family Morgan had never met. You just knew this was your escape, a getaway whenever you needed it. 

Then everything began to change, and it happened too quickly for you to comprehend. The chance of bringing everyone back was no longer impossible, it became highly possible due to the man you met briefly who drooled over Steve. You watched with Morgan as your Dad began to work in the house, looking at 3D displays as he picked them apart.

And then, the plan worked. 

You were with Morgan, playing with the prototypes of the Iron Man suit. She loved the pieces that fit together like jigsaws. Even at a young age, you knew she was destined to have that inventor gene you had. You could just see it in her big eyes as you explained it with long words she couldn’t say, but she listened with her full attention. 

The sound echoed throughout the world. A quick snap that created a wave of energy to surpass. You glanced out of the garden, seeing the trees all sway in the same direction, a ripple cross over the entire lake and Morgan’s tent fall over. 

“What was that?” Morgan questioned, looking up to you at the time as you smiled, bringing her into a tight hug. 

“That was half the world returning home.” 

*

Despite everyone being brought back, not everyone made it home. 

You couldn’t comprehend it. The fact he was really gone and wasn’t coming back. There wasn’t anything to be done to save him, Strange couldn’t reverse time and stop it. All you could do was accept it, even if the truth weighed down on your heart like a pain you couldn’t fathom. 

The day of Tony’s funeral, everyone turned up at the house. You saw faces you hadn’t seen in years. To them, they remembered you as a younger girl, a teenager. But you were almost eighteen, you weren’t a frightened child who hid from the weird-looking people who wandered the compound. Instead, you embraced them. 

Standing next to Morgan, you could feel their eyes full of sorrow for you as Pepper placed Tony’s heart, still encased in the glass on top of the flowers. You look over your shoulder, seeing the pain in Peter’s eyes as he glanced over to you, his face screaming with apologies. 

Turning around, you wiped the tears in your eyes as Pepper pushed the flowers out. She turned around and held both you and Morgan close, refusing to let either of you go. 

*

You made the decision that you couldn’t stay there. Everything that surrounded the house reminded you too heavily of your Dad. You wanted to help rebuild the compound after it was destroyed by Thanos, that it was the right thing to do to help start a new chapter in your life. 

At no point in doing so were you alone. Sam helped with everything, and he found comfort in talking to you about what is next. Bruce was ideal in the heavy lifting, and Bucky often scared the construction workers with an accidental glare. 

Once the compound was rebuilt, you worked with what was left from the original building. You wandered the corridors on countless nights as sleep was no longer a friend, it became your enemy. 

Every night, you would lie in bed and scream at your body to shut down. No matter how long you had been awake, how tirelessly you worked your body nothing was enough. If by some means you managed to shut your eyes, all you could do was picture the moment you couldn’t be a part of; seeing your Dad die. 

Of late, you keep finding Peter in the compound. It didn’t bother you as such, what did bother you was his attempts at making conversation with you. It wasn’t necessarily his fault that he idolised your Dad, and that he became close with him. But that doesn’t mean the pain still lingers when you see Peter holding your Dads old glasses, or talking to Wanda about the new suit that was left for him. 

He didn’t mean any harm by talking about Tony, it helped him come to terms with it all. But that’s the thing about grief, it affects people differently. For Peter, talking about it to those who understand helps him. For you, keeping quiet and avoiding the subject until you feel as if you’re about to burst is how you cope. So, you avoided him when you heard FRIDAY greet him through the hallways.

Sometimes, you couldn’t avoid him. He would wave to you with a big smile despite the redness in his face from crying whilst you remained stoic. “Hey Y/n, how, how are you doing?” Peter stumble over his words, but you didn’t always respond. “Okay I, I’ll see you around.” He’d call to you as you walked in the opposite direction, clenching your jaw as you picture all the times you felt like you were pushed aside to make room for Peter.  

*

There wasn’t anything unusual about today. You were still sleep deprived as nightmares plagued your mind during your attempt at sleep once again, and you sat on the roof all night talking up at the sky. Part of you felt that maybe he’s out there somewhere, looking down with Natasha tutting away about the choices you’ve all made. He’s probably telling you to go travel, see the rest of the world.

But you weren’t ready to fully move on, not just yet. 

Wandering through the corridors, you grip your coffee tightly in your hand. “FRIDAY, where is Wanda?” You call out, sipping your drink.

“Miss Maxinoff is currently training with Sargent Barnes, Miss Y/l/n. Would you like me to inform her you’re looking for her?” 

A small sigh leaves your lips as you shake your head. “No thanks, FRIDAY. I’ll try her again later.” You speak up to the AI as you look around to find yourself near the only original piece of the compound that was left standing. 

Ever since the work had been done, this was the only area you avoided. Mostly because everything was so raw when it was being mended, but now you knew if you went in, you’d be flooded with emotions.  

Letting out a heavy breath, you step forward and walk toward the lab. As you push the door open, memories return instantly. You look around, your fingertips trailing along the surfaces of the spots your Dad frequently worked at, creating all sorts of new things and figuring out how to better the old. 

Tears began to prick your eyes as you look over at the desk you once worked at. All the papers that covered it are gone, much like anything your Dad left in here. 

“I miss you so much Dad.” You call out into the room as you lean against the main console, pressing a button accidentally and watch as it flashes up.

“This better be on.” You hear your Dad sigh heavily as he looks tired, his face lacking fullness as his eyes bore into the lense. 

You stand still, listening to your Dad. It was recorded when he was trapped in space with Nebula, what he thought would be his last words. “And to Y/n who I hope never has to see this footage.” He pauses as he wipes his eyes heavily, an action you’re copying as you sniff loudly. “You’ll always make me proud, and to have you as my daughter, someone who is smart, witty and has the effortless charm every Stark has is something else.” A small laugh escapes your lips as you lean closer, lifting your hand up only to have it pass through the projection. “You’re going to do good Y/n. Whatever you do in life, you’ll be doing the right thing. I love you, honey, take care of your Mom for me.” 

As the tape comes to an end, you fall to the ground. Sobs wrack your body after all this time of holding them back. You wanted to be strong for your Mom and Morgan, show everyone you could hold it together. But you can’t always be the strongest person in the room, not now anyway.

Bringing your legs close to your chest, you bury your face in your knees. You remain oblivious to the door opening, the sound of a sad sigh sounding from Peter as he spots you curled up in the middle of the room.

Peter remains silent. Instead of speaking up, he walks over and kneels down beside you, hesitantly reaching out and places his hand on top of yours.

The unexpected action causes you to jump and kick whoever is in front of you. With a haltered sob, you look to see Peter lying on the ground. “P,Peter?” You stutter, watching as he easily sits back up in front of you, half a smile on his face.

“Hey, I, are you alright?” He questions, brows furrowed together in concern.

Ever since Tony died and once the compound had been rebuilt, Peter came into the lab frequently. He felt he could talk to Tony in there, as crazy as it seemed. In this space, he felt inspired to better his suit, better himself to become the man he wants to be. What he hadn’t anticipated was finding you in here.

You shake your head. “Does it look like I’m okay?” You scoff lightly, but immediately feel pain burn through you. “Sorry, I, I found a video of my Dad when he was stuck in space.” You speak slowly, feeling your body shaking as Peter reaches out, taking your hand in his and listens to every word. “I, I never got to say goodbye, and that was the closest I’ll ever get.” 

As you finish, the sobs return and you shuffle closer into Peter, letting him hold you close. He hushes you gently, not wanting to let go of you in this fragile state. All this time, he’s admired you. You were Y/n Stark, the girl everyone in his school knew. Most of the guys dreamt of meeting you more than Tony because you were their age. But Peter always saw past your beauty, he could see how alike you were to Tony. You were deeply intelligent, an innovator at heart. 

“He told me to tell you,” Peter slowly speaks up, knowing now is the time to tell you.

Lifting your head up, you look at him closely. “He said something to you?”You whisper, afraid to raise your voice any higher as it might crack.

Peter nods, watching the tears pool in your eyes once again. “He said you’ll be fine, no matter what. He loved you so much, Y/n.” Peter can feel the tears falling from his eyes as he pictures himself in front of Tony, half his body burnt as Pepper held back her sobs. 

You shuffle closer, resting in Peters's arms as you both remain seated in the middle of the lab. “Thank you Peter.” You tell him, not wanting to let go of the boy you once resented for how much time he spent with your Dad. Yet, you thanked him now, as he was able to share your Dad’s last words. 

[vinylackles]

the story

word count: 4,367

requested by: anonymous

summary: this is a bit of backstory about sam and the reader, from their proposal (towards the end of season 11) all the way to their honeymoon! 

a few of my other fics [ring and the cabin] are kind of involved in this fic (the timeline for ring, and the actual cabin if you’d like to read them as well, though you don’t have to :)

all my works || request imagines here

the push:

Dean had been on his ass for weeks, and Sam had gone out to the store to buy a new duffle bag simply so he would never have to share one with his brother again. He wasn’t supposed to find the box, but he hadn’t stopped prying, and today was no exception.

“If you’ve already got the ring why don’t you just ask her already you chicken,” Dean had said as soon as he walked into the kitchen.

“You’re right Dean, I’m so sorry for not taking your advice, considering how many successful proposals you’ve done. Oh wait, that’s right...”

“Alright, low blow,” Dean grumbled, sipping at his coffee. They fell back into the tense silence that had been over the bunker for the last few weeks. They knew, with Amara lurking out there that they were going to have to act, and soon. 

The aching fear in Sam’s belly about what would happen when the time did come to face the darkness wasn’t helping his tolerance either. 

“Sorry. I’ve just got more important things to worry about right now,” Sam mumbled, turning back to the book he had been scanning before Dean interrupted. 

“No you don’t,” Dean countered. Sam only lifted his eyes to roll them. “Seriously Sam, you shouldn’t be puttin’ all this crap above your personal life.”

The younger Winchester had to stifle a laugh.

“Uh, where have you been for the last 25 years of our lives? That’s what we do Dean, that’s what all hunters do. You stow your crap and you do the job. And right now, the job is Amara.” 

“I can handle Amara. It might not be pretty but I can handle her.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Sam murmured, frustration growing. Dean was silent for a while, and it put an odd tension back into the room. 

“Sam.”

“What.”

“Sammy look at me.” There was an aching vulnerability in his brothers voice that Sam couldn’t deny even if he wanted to. He looked up, marking his spot in his book. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve been on your ass lately, about proposin’ and all that. It’s just, I think I see the end of this road, with the darkness and everything. I think I know - I think we both know how this is gonna end, and I know how screwed up I got all those times that you were... gone. I just want you to be happy. Once I’m gone.”

“Dean, stop it.”

“Just hear me out, okay? I know I’ve always been the one that said we keep hunting, that we could never stop. I gave you crap for leavin’ me in purgatory and going after your normal apple-pie life. But I want you to know, that if this ends with me on a pyre, and you wanna walk away.... that’s okay with me. You’ve more than earned it, and besides, you’ve got somethin’ more important to care about now.” 

Sam’s throat was too tight for him to answer, and thankfully, Dean didn’t wait on one.

“That girl of yours, she’s somethin’ else Sam. I knew it from the minute you found her, and I couldn’t think of anyone better for you. I mean that. She’s basically a little sister to me, and you two deserve each other. You deserve to be happy Sam. I know that’s not easy, with what we do, so if you need to throw in the towel, you can.”

“Can you save the death bed speech Dean? Please? You aren’t dying over this, I’m not gonna let you,” Sam’s voice cracked on his brothers name, giving him away.

“We’re all gonna die eventually little brother. And you’ve gotta make the best of it while you’re here. From where I’m standin’, it looks like the best of it for you is in the shower right now, blaring that song she’s been playing all week.” He chuckled a bit, the sound of Y/N’s music a dull murmur in the background. “So could you do your big brother a solid and lock that down, for good, before I end up walkin’ into something I’m not sure I’m gonna walk out of? It’d give me some peace of mind.”

Sam just nodded, unable to say anything around the lump in his throat. But when Dean clapped him on the shoulder he reached up and caught his hand, squeezing tightly.

the proposal:

It was only three days after his talk with Dean, and he hadn’t planned on doing it then. He’d run through a thousand plans in his head, and eliminated them all one by one. Rent out a stadium - too over the top. Just ask her one morning - she deserved more than that. Get her a puppy and put the ring on the collar - tempting, but they couldn’t take care of a dog. 

And so he’d decided that it would be whenever it felt natural, and preferably before anything major happened with Dean and the darkness. He could give his brother what he asked for - it was the least he could do. It wasn’t like he wasn’t planning on doing it soon anyways. 

It started when Y/N had climbed into bed, still fully clothed, and cuddled up to his side, resting her chin on his chest. She looked up at him through her lashes while he read his book, a tell-tale sign that she wanted something.

“Hi baby. Whatcha need?” He asked.

“I want ice cream.” She grinned, hopeful. He couldn’t resist that smile, and she knew it too.

“I think we have some vanilla in the freezer. But you want Mosley’s, don’t you?” He knew her order at the local ice cream shop by heart. 

All she did was smile sheepishly as an answer, scooting up the bed to press a kiss to his lips. 

“Let me get my shoes on.” He kissed her again before getting up and heading to the closet. Y/N snagged one of Sam’s flannels and threw it on with the shirt and leggings she was already wearing.

“I’ll get the keys from Dean, meet you in the garage!” She gave him one more peck on the cheek before bounding out of the room, obviously excited for the inevitable ice cream.

When she was gone, it struck him. Maybe tonight could be the night. So he pocketed the ring quietly in his jacket, trying not to focus on the weight of it against his chest. 

He almost forgot about it, no room for much else in his mind when he saw her perched on the hood of the impala waiting for him. She was just mindlessly scrolling through her phone, perfectly relaxed with no idea what was coming. He didn’t want it any other way.

“Ready beautiful?”

“Mosleys here we come!” Y/N exclaimed, hopping down off the car and moving to the passenger side. Sam had barely gotten in before she slid over to lean against him, nuzzling up to his side like she always did when it was just them. 

“You’re so comfy. How can you be so muscley and so comfy at the same time,” she mumbled, her cheek squished against his shoulder. He just laughed, wrapping his right arm around her and kissing her forehead. 

When they got to Mosleys, she stayed in the car. Sam was good enough friends with the owner to ask for a special favor, and he walked out with both their favorites in a small styrofoam cooler filled with dry ice. 

He could see Y/N’s eyes squint in suspicion through the windshield as he got to the car.

“What’re you up to Winchester?” She asked as soon as his door was open.

“It’s a surprise. You know, those things you hate?” 

She squinted her eyes even more, scrunching her nose in the most adorable way. He leaned over the cooler and kissed her softly, bringing her out of her mood, but only slightly.

“I’m just taking my girl on a date, is that allowed?” He teased as Baby rumbled to life. 

“I suppose.” She muttered, moving the cooler to the other side of her legs so she could cuddle back up to him. They drove for about 30 minutes, to a little outlook that sat high above a lake. They’d been there before, but never at night, and as Sam expected, when they got out the sky was spattered with some of the brightest stars he’d ever seen. 

“Woah,” she whispered as she got out of the car, eyes wide, cooler in her arms. Sam popped the trunk, silently thanking his brother for the fact that there was still a blanket in the back. He spread it out over a patch of grass, motioning for Y/N to come join him. She sat down while he unpacked the ice cream - the man had given him pints of each of their favorite flavors on the house once he’d told him the plan. 

She toyed with the fog that was coming out of the container from the ice, fascinated by it as it disappeared in the warm Kansas air.

“It’s even more beautiful out here at night,” she said when she finally looked back up at the sky. Sam passed her the pint with a spoon stuck in the top. She took it happily, scooping some out and pressing it against her tongue. He wasn’t sure how she looked so cute all the time - surely it was exhausting. 

Somehow, while staring at her at that moment, all his nerves disappeared. He was so sure of her, of them, that it seemed silly that he was nervous in the first place. So the next words out of his mouth came naturally, easy as water.

“Do you wanna get married?”

“Duh, you know that,” she said, staring up at the sky.

That didn’t go as planned. 

“I mean, do you want to marry me?” 

“You bought me ice cream and took me to see the stars, who else would I marry?” She mused, still not looking at him. Even when he reached into his pocket and pulled out the box, she remained oblivious, staring at the sky. He took the opportunity to move back a little bit and prop himself up on a knee. 

“Y/N. Will you marry me?” 

“I mean are you gonna give me a ri- HOLY CRAP!” She turned around finally, almost swallowing her spoon at the sight of him there on one knee. 

“Don’t choke,” he chuckled, resisting the urge to reach over and swipe the spoon out of her mouth. She did the honors, letting it drop onto the blanket.

“Sam.” She was breathless it seemed, her eyes flickering between his face and the ring.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, I just wanted it to be the right time. You’re all I want, forever. And I thought we could make it, you know, official? If you’re up for it?” 

That was so not what he was planning on saying. But she didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes holy crap yes!” She practically squealed, tackling him in a kiss. He rolled slightly so his legs didn’t get trapped behind him as he kissed her back, both their smiles bursting through every time their lips parted. 

“You didn’t even let me put your ring on,” he teased, brushing some hair back from her face. Y/N sat up, tugging him up with her so she was sitting on his lap. He picked the box up, pulling the ring carefully out of the velvet and sliding it onto her finger. It fit perfectly, making him smile.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, and he could hear her tears in her voice. 

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” 

the engagement:

Planning a wedding and hunting weren’t exactly conducive activities.

“Baby, you can stay here if you need to, I know you wanted to meet with that florist,” Sam sighed a bit, watching you pack your bag.

“Flowers aren’t going to do me much good if my fiance is dead in a vamp nest somewhere,” you muttered, tossing an extra change of clothes in and zipping it up. 

“Hey. C’mere.” Sam’s voice was gentle and you felt the tension leave your shoulders as you moved over towards him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, I’m just stressed out. I want it to be a perfect day,” you mumbled, burying your face in his chest as he held you.

“I know. It’s gonna be perfect no matter what, cause we’re gonna be married at the end of the day, regardless. But I know you want it to be a certain way. I just wish it didn’t stress you out so much.” 

“Have you met me? Everything stresses me out.” You chuckled, pressing your forehead into his chest. He laughed with you, hand coming up to run through your hair. 

“Well, we’ve got a few months left before the wedding. What’s left?”

“Flowers. And I’ve got the last fitting for my dress, Jody is coming with me for that. All the guys have their suits, the girls are getting their dresses back from the tailors. We have the cake, we’ve got the rings. Dean’s building the alter stuff.”

“So.... just the flowers then?”

“And the honeymoon...”

You tried again, though you knew it was futile. Maybe, just maybe he’d slip up and give it away. 

“The honeymoon is taken care of, I promise. How about when we get back from this hunt we go to the florist together, yeah?”

“You don’t want to go to the florist, you couldn’t care less about the flowers,” you accused, but it was lighthearted.

“Yeah, but you care, which means I care. Now c’mon, we’ve got some vampires to kill.”

the wedding:

For once, the Kansas weather had decided to cooperate. It was a beautiful day, sun shining over the bunker, a nice breeze keeping it from being too hot. Everything was perfect, and yet you still couldn’t breathe. 

“Y/N? Hey, are you gonna be okay if I leave you here to walk mom down? I can get Cas to do it if you need me to.” Dean's worry was obvious as he slipped a hand under your elbow, as if you were going to fall. You weren’t sure that you wouldn’t.

“No, no I’m okay. Just, uh, hurry back, okay?” Your voice was strained. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous - everything had gone to plan, everybody you and Sam loved were there. 

“You got it. Hang in there.” Dean squeezed you a bit before letting go and moving up the line to let Mary take his arm. You knew Sam was close by, so you stayed hidden in the bunker stairwell. Neither of you had wanted to see the other beforehand, but not having him there with you was probably why you were so nervous - you two had never been the greatest at separation. Music had begun to play, and you knew the processional was moving along.

The alter had been set up behind the bunker, in a little clearing of the woods. There was a path lined with flowers, up to a beautiful alter that Dean had built from some reclaimed wood he’d found. It was beautiful to anyone, not just your biased eyes. You kept yourself hidden, but peaked out just enough so you could see everyone walking down. 

Cas lead, with Claire on his arm. He kissed her cheek before they moved to their appropriate sides of the alter. Next was Jack, who did double time and walked both Patience and Alex down, since Dean was on his way back to you. 

The sight of familiar faces made it a bit easier to breathe. Garth was there, and Donna. Mary was beaming at her son, but you refused to follow her gaze. If you looked at Sam now, you knew you’d start crying. Jody was standing at the alter - she’d gotten ordained just for you two. 

Dean made it back to you quickly, holding up his arm for you to take.

“You ready for this?” 

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s just Sam,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Dean.

“You’re just excited I bet. Sam was shakin’ in his boots all morning waiting for you. I’ve got yah, okay? I’ll get you down the aisle and Sam will take it from there.” 

Something in the familiar cadence of his voice, and knowing that you’d be right there with Sam in just a minute made your nerves cease enough for you to take that first step, out into the light.

You clutched onto Dean’s arm and matched his pace, watching the petal-covered grass underneath your feet. And when you heard the sound of everyone rising from their chairs, you lifted your eyes from the ground.

And there he was.

You’d known what suit he was going to wear. What color his tie was, which flowers would be on his boutonnière. You’d seen his smile a thousand times. But he was beaming, and you could see the tears welling up at the sight of you in your dress.

And it didn’t matter that everyone was looking at you, or that you were crying too. He was there and he was about to be your husband, and you couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

“Easy tiger, it’s not a race,” Dean murmured, trying to slow down your pace. You hadn’t realized you’d sped up so much, automatically drawn towards Sam. Why had you made the aisle so long?

Finally, finally, you got there. Dean kissed your cheek and guiding you up the few stairs that he’d built. You passed your bouquet to Claire, who fixed the train on your dress and then you turned, gazing up at Sam. 

He was still crying, but trying to keep it together a bit more as he took your hands in his. You couldn’t do anything but stare at him, and take it all in as Jody spoke, about love and the importance of it.

You both pulled it together enough to repeat your vows to each other, though the tears were still streaming. Dean handed Sam the rings, and yours settled perfectly on your finger, as if it was meant to be there all along. Perhaps it was. 

You weren’t sure you’d ever heard sweeter words than “you may now kiss your bride”, and you couldn’t help but smile when you felt the cool metal of Sam’s ring on your cheek when he cupped your face, bending down to kiss you. 

It was soft and warm and different somehow. You were kissing your husband, and you weren’t sure you were even going to get over that.

Everyone cheered as you headed down the aisle, back to the door of the bunker that you’d come out of.

You disappeared inside for a moment, pulling Sam with you. As soon as the door closed behind you you were kissing him again with as much fierceness as you could muster, somehow trying to put action to the happiness that was burning inside of you. He obliged, taking your hips in his hands, hands splayed out against the white fabric that covered you. 

It took you a minute to work it out of your system, and you knew that everyone would probably starting to trickle in from the ceremony in just a moment. When you pulled away, you weren’t sure you’d ever felt happier. 

“You didn’t even let me carry you over the threshold,” Sam chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.

“Sorry,” you whispered, laughing with him. 

“The stairs will do,” he grinned, getting that boyish glint in his eyes that made your heart warm since the first time you saw it. He scooped you up, starting the descent off the balcony.

“Please don’t fall and break a leg, I know you can’t see those stairs over this dress,” you cautioned.

“Ever the romantic,” Sam teased, kissing your cheek. You reached the bottom at the perfect time, getting one more kiss in before the doors open and everyone began to funnel in from outside. You both waited at the bottom, accepting everyone’s hugs and well wishes. 

When Dean got to you, he took you by surprise, picking you up and spinning you around. 

“Welcome to the family Winchester,” he had said, and it was the first time in a long time you’d seen Dean truly happy. 

The night moved on like most weddings, you assumed. Everyone ate pizza that you’d ordered from the local joint, and there was wine and beer and cake and dancing. You’d pushed all the tables to the walls in the library, leaving the whole space open; a makeshift dance floor.

Your first dance song played from the record player in the corner, and you smiled as Sam held you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. After that, it seemed everyone wanted a chance to dance with the bride, so you were passed around through the slow songs. Much to your surprise, Jack seemed to be the best dancer of all of them. He later revealed he’d watched some youtube videos on how to slow dance, obviously proud of himself. 

You found yourself back in Sam’s arms again as the night began to wind down. 

“You ready for our honeymoon?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. 

“How can I be ready if I don’t know where we’re going? You wouldn’t even let me pack my own bag,” you countered, scrunching up your nose at him. 

“You’ll know soon enough. C’mon, let’s go.”  

the honeymoon:

“I knew it!” She exclaimed, making Sam smile as he brought the car to a stop outside the cabin. He didn’t tell her that they were only spending the night there, that in the morning they’d be driving to the airport and heading off to the beach. 

He got out first, moving around the car to open Y/N’s door for her and help her out. She had been so eager to leave and see where they were going that she’d insisted her dress was comfortable enough to ride in. She somehow looked even more beautiful out there amongst the trees, dressed in white, relaxed and completely herself. 

“C’mere,” he said quietly, taking her waist in his hands and pulling her to him. She melted under his touch it seemed, pliant under his lips as he kissed her. She was sweet to taste, and he could feel her smile. With a sigh he pulled away, but only to grab the smaller overnight bag he’d packed for them. 

“We don’t need the big bags yet. Besides, I don’t see many clothes in our immediate future.”

“Oh?” She blushed bright pink.

“As sad as I am to see it go, I am so ready to get you out of that dress. Also, you aren’t cheating me out of my threshold this time,” he grinned, tossing the bag over his shoulder before scooping Y/N up.

“I love you,” she said, breathless as he carried her through the doorway.

“I love you too, wife.” The word felt so natural on his tongue, and the he wished he could keep the smile it brought to her face there forever. “C’mon beautiful, let’s get you to bed.” 

Their shoes were first, and the dress was next. It had delicate buttons along the back, and he fumbled with them, his long fingers getting in his own way as they both laughed through his struggle. When he finally got them undone it fell heavy to the ground, revealing delicate, white lingerie that about sent him to his knees. It took all his self control to move away and hang the dress up on a spare hanger, hooking it over the door of the bedroom. 

He slipped out of his dress shirt, having already lost the jacket and tie back at the bunker before they’d left. He was about to sit back down before he caught the look his wife was giving him. 

“What?”

“I’m only in my underwear... you too. Equal partners, remember?” She teased, quirking an eyebrow. 

He just laughed, undoing his belt and tossing it aside before letting his pants fall to the floor. She gasped, making him panic a bit, looking down at his plain black boxer briefs. 

“What!?” He asked yet again.

“No white lace?! What kinda wedding night is this!?” She faked her exasperation, but she could only keep up the act for a moment before she burst out laughing.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he teased, moving to the bed in a fluid motion, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and lifting her just enough to guide her onto her back.

Everything paused when she winced, sucking in a breath.

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

“One of my hair pins just poked me. I swear, there must be five hundred of them in there,” she muttered, nose scrunched as she looked up towards her hair.

“C’mere, I’ll take em out.” 

Sam guided her back up to sitting, letting her settle in his lap facing away from him as he began to run his fingers through her hair, picking out the pins that were stuck within it. He smiled as the curls began to fall, and she relaxed more and more every time he found a new one to take out. 

His hand was full by the time he was done, and he put them all on the bedside table, running his other hand over Y/N’s sore scalp. She was practically purring under his touch, leaning her weight back onto his chest. He peppered kisses along her skin, up her neck, along her jaw, finally catching her lips when she turned to look at him. 

She twisted on his lap, settling with her legs wrapped around his waist, moulding to him like she always did. 

The night was spent intertwined in every sense of the word, slow and warm and soft, with whispered I loves you and promises. They fell asleep pressed against each other, safe in knowing that it was really the two of them, forever.

leave me feedback and i’ll cry okay

[frejahertziswritingthistime]

Teenage kicks chapter 8

A/N: AH! We’re so close to the end, and it both makes me sad and super happy. I really love this story, and I love that you guys love it – this story has been so fun to write, so I hope you’ll stay with it for the last two chapters.

This was born from a request from @theboundlesssoul, and I really hope you still like it!

This story is also dedicated to the amazing and sweet @redeyedvixen, and I’m hoping you love it as well.

Well, read on, my friends!

Remember, I always say yes to requests and feedback feeds the writer (please give me feedback, because I love it so much, even if it’s just a keyboard-smash)!

MASTERLIST

Teenage kicks masterlist

Buy me a coffee (and get something personal written for you!)

Pairings: Dean x reader

Warnings: language, implied smut

READER POV

I pulled the last box from my car, and sighed deeply, annoyed at the constant ache in my back; pregnancy was really not my fucking cup of tea. As I walked towards the small house, I spotted a shadow from the window; Dean had, to his credit, instantly jumped on board and had even bought a goddamn house – a really big fixer-upper – a few weeks later. I bumped the front door open with my hip, the box weighing heavier than ever. “Hey, asshole, maybe the not-pregnant man should carry the damn boxes from the car and to the house instead of the pissed off, pregnant woman!” I yelled through the house – Sam and Dean poked their heads out from the living-room, paint splatters on their face. Dean rushed to my side with a smile and took the box. “Kitchen.” I mumbled, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. Damn it all to hell, I was falling back in love with the fucking moron.

Fucking broken condoms.

I walked into the small living-room and looked around – it had been painted in a white, the hot sun gleaming off the still wet paint. Sam stood next to me, a paint-brush in hand. “when are you going to tell him? I mean, I know you’ve moved in together as co-parents here, but seriously. You can’t keep pretending to hate him.” Sam said, nudging my shoulder a little. I groaned. “Shut your mouth, Sammy-boy. I’ll tell him when I’m dead, how’s that?” Sam just shook his head, and bend down to be at eyelevel with my growing belly. I frowned. I couldn’t see my toes anymore. “How’s he growing?” I slapped his head. “Who says it’s a boy, you douchebag?” Sam grinned and stood up, ruffling my hair. “Listen, I’m going to get some stuff to fic your pipes, because you’d probably shower in rust, if we don’t get them fixed.” I nodded thankfully. “thanks, Sam. I know I’m giving you a hard time here, but you know, collateral damage and all that shit.” Sam just smiled and walked out of the house – Dean stepped inside the living room with a bottle of water and handed it to me.

“Where’s he going?” I turned to him. “Something about shitty pipes, I guess.” I sat down on the lone chair, we had assembled and sighed deeply. Dean stood in front of me with a look of uncertainty on his face. “Out with it, Winchester.” I said with raised eyebrows. He sighed.

“Listen… I just… I’m really happy you agreed to move in with me, and all that shit, but we need to figure out how this is going to work, okay?” I looked at him. He sat down on the floor in front of me. “We can’t keep doing this. Like, I love your snark and sass, and I get it, you think I deserve it, but our kid can’t grow up with you calling me an asshole or swearing at me half the time.” I nodded. “that’s fair enough.” I said, before sipping a little of my water. I felt the little bean kick around a little, almost as if it was too cold. I smiled softly. “Also…” Dean started, but clamped up again. “Seriously, dude, just fucking talk. The worst that happens, is that I try to waddle away, and you’ll catch up to me in five minutes.” Dean grinned. “Okay. I just… I wanted you to see something.” I raised my eyebrows, but he just smiled and stretched his hand out to me; I took it, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach (bean was always moving extra hard when Dean touched me) and pulled me out of my chair. He held on to my hand – I didn’t protest – and led me upstairs, where he had spent the majority of his time the last week. The entire house needed to be fixed – every part of it was full of cracks, peeling paint and rotten floors. I was worried whether or not it’d be done when I popped the fucking kid out, because at this rate, we’d only have new pipes and a bed to work with.

The house was small, but cozy. The first floor was comprised of a small hallway, that led from the stairs and down to three rooms – the master bedroom, a small room, which Dean had said he’d move into, and what would become the nursery. “Close your eyes.” He mumbled, leading me towards the nursery. I did what he asked, slightly worried he might just carve the kid out of me and leave. “Open them.” As I did, I couldn’t help but gasp; I wasn’t a girly girl, but I was tearing up at the sight in front of me. It was the nursery, completely finished.

Dean had painted it in a soft, green color, something reminiscent of a lake in the forest, and he had put a line of small stickers along the back wall; teddy bears, flowers, bees and a bunch of other shit, was plastered to the wall. He had assembled every piece of furniture, we had bought. The white crib was standing against the back wall, just below the open window, a white mesh hanging down over it – I could spot a teddy bear and a blanket in there, gifts from Sam. A rocking chair stood next to the door, a soft, fuzzy blanket thrown over it, and pictures hung on the wall – ultra-scans, pictures of Sam, pictures of Dean, pictures of them together, and pictures of me. Pictures, I didn’t even know he had taken. Some of me, standing in front of the house, just as we had bought it, cradling my stomach protectively. Some of me smiling of something unknown, me hugging Sam. It was truly beautiful. I felt a small pang in my chest when I realized, that there wasn’t a picture of me and Dean, until I was the picture on the wall next to me: I didn’t know this even existed. Me and Dean, looking around 16, were sitting under the willow-tree’s shadow in Bobby’s garden, grinning at each other, fingers weaved together. I was sure Sam had taken the picture way back when, and I silently thanked the little, big shit for doing that.

“Holy shit.” I didn’t know what to say. Dean stepped inside the room, pulling me along by my hand. “I got to tell you something.” I focused my eyes on Dean, who looked scared. “I know you think I was a dick. I was. Back when we were 16, I really was a fucking dickhead. No, not even that. I was the hole in the dickhead. I know you probably don’t believe it, but I seriously didn’t mean shit of what I was saying. I wanted to stay, I wanted to stay with you, but my dad had me convinced that a curse rested on us or some shit, and… Well, I didn’t want you to die. I should have tried to find you later. I should have done so much, but I was sure you’d be happier without me.” He drew a deep breath and locked eyes with me, his hand still clutching mine.

“I was so in love with you back then. I really, truly was. Sam knew it, I knew it, Bobby knew it. I thought… Anyway, when I saw you that day, where you saved our asses, I was blown away and I acted like a dick again. I think I just turned into 16-year old Dean again, and I was standing in front of you, drooling like a fucking moron, and I just…” H sighed – his hand was sweaty, and his eyes wet, but I couldn’t pull away. My heart was hammering in my chest, like I was a goddamn school-girl. “You know what? I want to be someone, you can love. I want to be that person, that you love. Because, whether you like it or not, I fucking love you. I love you, Y/N, and I love the kid, you’re brewing and I just… I love you.” He finally let go of my hand, and he stood there, in the middle of the fucking nursery, shaking from head to toe. And he had said those three magic words, the ones that I had half-way hoped to hear but didn’t expect to ever hear come out of his mouth.

“You’re calling me a brewery?” I asked. That was the first think in my head!? What the fuck!? Dean chuckled a little. “Sorry.” He was waiting for me to respond, and I didn’t know what to say. The idiot had just – again – turned my fucking world around, and now I had to take care of it again. I wanted to say something back to him, but I suddenly realized that I was terrified of him leaving me. I was scared to death, to stand alone with a kid, him just leaving with harsh words yet again, and I’d be left alone with lingering self-doubt and a kid on my hip.

But Dean stood there, looking so fucking frail and so far removed from everything I knew him to be, that I couldn’t think that this man, the one in front of me, surrounded by baby-stuff, would ever hurt me again. I didn’t know what to say, so I did the only fucking logical thing I could think of; I sprang on him.

Our lips met, and I instantly knew I was goddamn ruined. I was ruined by this man, this asshole in front of me, and his lips were on mine, desperate for more; I wrapped my arms around his neck and his fingers fell to my hips, gripping me tightly – my lips felt burning hot, and it felt so fucking right to kiss him. It felt as if a piece of the puzzle that was my fucked up life had finally fallen into place; damn him, for making me feel this way.

I pulled away by the need for air. I looked into his eyes and was surprised to see that they were wet with tears. “Did we put furniture in the bedroom?” I asked in a low voice. He looked confused. “yeah, why?” I moved slowly out of the nursery, backing into the bedroom behind me. “Because I think we should christen our bed.” I said, taking my shirt off.

It wasn’t heated or full of anger. It was slow, deliberate and intimate, a sense of absolute belonging as we were joined. My bump made it hard to do anything but to do it spooning, but it didn’t matter – it felt as if we were joined together, the slow, gentle thrusts making me cry out in joy. Dean was holding me tightly after spilling inside me, breathing deeply and resting his head against my shoulder.

“Is this okay?” He asked. I knew he asked about the whole ordeal – his confession, what we just did, what we did seven months ago, and I smiled softly, grasping his hand in mine.

“I’ll allow it.”

TAGLIST: @greenarrowhead ead, @baconlover001 @hobby27 , @trustnobodyshootfirst @mypage-myfandoms​, @chicagolove88​, @jenbarb10​, @imascio08

FOREVERLIST: @supernaturalmagicfolk​, @redeyedvixen​, @al1y , @roonyxx​, @sherlockstolemyname e​, @tayyfvck​, @heyitscam99​, @starletzombie​, @jensenyourdeanisshowing​, @linki-locks11

[jghouse-asia-pacific]

New Post has been published on http://www.jg-house.com/2017/06/27/american-teacher-vietnam-episode-11/

American Teacher in Vietnam, Episode 11

District 5. I hadn’t been there before. Other parts of Ho Chi Minh City had become familiar to me during the previous month. But in a city of 10 million people sprawling across miles of wetlands, I still had a lot to see.

At 9:30am, Lan took me to a strip of herb shops between Lương Nhữ Học and Triệu Quang Phục Streets. She parked her motorbike in front of a store specializing in lavender oil, and we went down an alley.

“You can finish educating yourself about traditional medicine after I finish giving an overview,” Lan said. I wasn’t sure yet, though, how far I wanted to go.

The night before Lan had given me a concoction for a lingering cough, but I had refused to take it. She wouldn’t tell me what it was.

Today, Lan and I were visiting herb shops well known in Ho Chi Minh City. Her father, now deceased, had been a practitioner of traditional medicine. “My mom continues his profession,” she said.

“Here,” Lan said, opening a red door in the center of a small white storefront. I saw a sign with two words, Happy Herb.

Happy Herb

An old man with a white goatee wearing a long black coat, made of silk, stood behind a glass case and beside a floor-to-ceiling cabinet. He spoke to Lan in Vietnamese. They looked at me. They were developing their diagnosis.

The man turned, opened one of the drawers of the big cabinet, and took out a small bundle in brown paper. He opened the brown paper and displayed a fine, gray powder.

Lan removed a small bottle of water from her bag, took off its cap, and poured half of the powder into the bottle. She replaced the cap and shook the bottle.

“Drink all of it,” Lan said, putting the bottle in my hand.

When I drank it, I felt the muscles in my chest relaxing.

Lan said to me, “Good. Now let’s go. I have to be at work in 30 minutes.”

Country Life

Triệu Quang Phục Street

Lan put on her helmet. I put on mine. We went back outside.

Lan looked at me. “You just drank a mixture of herbs and roots, including licorice and ginger. We’ll discuss it more later.”

Lan got on her motorbike. “I was married once,” she said. “My husband didn’t believe in traditional medicine.” She paused. “But Western or modern medicine couldn’t save him. He had cancer.”

Lan paused again. “Have you ever been married?”

I was putting on my mask. I glanced at Lan, nodded, and spoke through my mask, “My ex-wife is a nurse.” I got on the motorbike behind her.

“Are you going to marry again?” Lan asked. She adjusted her mask, then turned her key in the ignition.

“Maybe,” I said. I fastened my own mask over my nose and mouth and felt my iPhone vibrate.

It was a message from Karen, who wanted me to meet her for an early lunch before my meeting with Duy at 1:00. I knew the place she proposed, Thai Express. It was across the street from the government school, SEAMEO, where she taught English.

I wondered if Karen had the information about Vietnamese public schools for me. I was paying her to conduct research and supplement my visits to the schools in person. “Can you drop me off in District 1?” I said to Lan.

Thai Express

When Lan came to a stop in front of Vincom B Shopping Center at 70 Lê Thánh Tôn Street in District 1, I told her I would meet her again that evening. We had to review the herbal medicine I was taking. I had many questions. I entered the mall and looked for Thai Express.

“Maybe you were right,” Karen said, looking a little worried, when I sat down. “I think that Duy does have a crush on me.”

Karen sat in a booth at the front of the restaurant. “I want to make it clear to Duy that I have professional relationships with students,” Karen added. “I don’t know what you should say to him this afternoon,” she continued, “but he needs to understand that I’m not interested in romance. I had a problem with a man recently.” She frowned.

A message appeared on the screen of my iPhone resting next to my plate of chicken with potatoes in red curry. It was Duy. He wanted to know where to send his driver to pick me up.

Karen watched me as she finished the phat thai with shrimp on her plate. “I like my new job at Hyundai-Vinamotor,” she said. “All of the students, including Duy, are highly motivated.” She paused. “They understand that speaking English means more money for them.” She took a sip of water. “Also teaching them means more money for me.”

“It’s common sense, isn’t it?” I said. “Children and adolescents don’t earn much money.”

Karen looked at me. “I suppose,” she said, removing a folder from her bag, “if you want to look at things that way. Here is the data you requested. You’ll see statistics for Vietnamese institutions seeking English-language accreditation.”

Butcher Shop

Thu Duc District

Outside the Vincom B shopping center, Karen started down Lê Thánh Tôn Street in the direction of the SEAMEO school. She stopped abruptly. “Don’t forget,” she said, turning toward me. “We’re meeting Emily and her boyfriend for dinner tonight at 7:00.”

An orange Hyundai sedan approached and came to a halt next to us. The driver waved at Karen and gestured to me. It was Duy’s driver.

The man was about 40 years old and had long, flowing hair, dyed blonde.

“I take Karen to and from her class at the Hyundai-Vinamotor offices two nights a week,” the man said as I got into his car. “Duy says she’s a good teacher.” He stopped the car in the middle of an intersection and made a U-turn in front of a policeman. The policeman stared at him. “The factory is in Thu Duc District,” he added. “It will take us about 45 minutes to get there.”

I looked at my driver. He spoke English with an American accent. “Let’s close the windows and turn on the air conditioner,” I said.

“My name is Sam,” he commented. Then he shook my hand. “I hear you’re from San Diego,” he added. “I’m from Gardena,” he continued, referring to a small city in Orange County south of Los Angeles. “My parents escaped Saigon when it fell to the Communists in 1975. I was born in California one year later.”

“I like your blonde hair. Is it natural?” I asked.

He smiled. Suddenly he accelerated through another intersection, causing an old woman pushing a wooden vegetable cart to drop a squash and two tomatoes on the pavement. She shook her fist at him. Even though the windows were rolled up I knew she was yelling at him.

“I saw Saigon for the first time three years ago,” he said. “I didn’t even know the communists had changed its name to Ho Chi Minh City.” He laughed. “But I don’t plan on going back to the States.”

Now slowing down for an old woman pushing a cart piled with watermelons, Sam said, “If it weren’t for Duy, I don’t know what my situation here would be. I work for him every day. Also I live in one of his apartments.”

Saigon River

Hyundai-Tracomeco Factory

Sam turned right on a road lined on both sides with industrial complexes. “When I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City,” he said, “I had nothing. No job. No money. No friends.” He paused. “For two months, I slept on the floor of my cousin’s apartment. I ate instant noodles every day. I was depressed and lonely.”

We passed through a side gate into a large compound surrounded by high fences. On the wall of one warehouse I saw the words, Hyundai-Tracomeco.

“But the day I helped Duy change a flat tire in front of my cousin’s apartment,” Sam said, “my life changed.” He looked out the driver’s side window. “No one in the U.S. cared about me. My parents had died. They never had learned English. I decided to go to Vietnam. For a while, I thought I had made a big mistake.”

As Sam brought the car to a stop, Duy emerged from a small office attached to a warehouse. He wore an expensive blue, tailored suit and a yellow bow tie.

On foot, Duy and I went to one end of the yard, beyond which the Saigon River flowed. It was more than a mile wide and looked placid, almost like a lake. It was coffee colored.

Ahead of us was a big concrete dock with two large cranes and a large ship tied up with thick hawsers. One of the cranes unloaded a container from the ship.

“We import our parts from Hyundai in Korea. Then we assemble our trucks and buses here,” Duy said. “Let’s go inside and see the assembly line.”

Duy opened a door on one side of a warehouse, and we entered. We ascended a set of iron stairs to a second level, open to the floor below. We passed through a conference room and an office, separated only by metal cabinets.

Duy stopped and gestured downward. On the factory floor, we watched a small army of men operating machines and fitting together parts of trucks. They were attaching fenders and doors to drive trains and engines. I saw flashes of light where men were welding, but, remarkably, I heard no voices. No one talked.

“Tomorrow none of these people and none of these machines will be operating,” Duy said. “The assembly line will stop.” He shrugged. “I received word just now there will be a power outage for 4 hours tomorrow.” He started toward an office. “The government gives us a 24-hour notice for a shutdown.”

Duy entered his office and came back out a few minutes later. He looked tired. “Sam is outside in the car waiting for you,” Duy said. So far he had not mentioned Karen. Maybe I had him figured wrong.

Long Neck

Hotel InterContinental

Back in the orange Hyundai sedan, Sam asked me where I wanted to go. “Hotel Vissai,” I said. Then I sent a text message to Howard, who, replying immediately, said that Emile wanted to see the two of us.

“No,” I said to Sam. “Take me to Hotel InterContinental.” To Howard, I added, “I’m on my way.”

When I entered the lobby of Hotel Intercontinental, Howard sat on one end of a couch. On the other end, I saw the boy I had seen in Howard’s company previously. Again, the boy was flipping through the pages of a comic book. Did he live in the hotel by himself?

Howard stood up. “Emile will buy us a drink,” he said, starting in the direction of the bar. “See you later, Reggie,” Howard called out, looking over his shoulder at the boy. Reggie didn’t reply.

Inside the Purple Jade Bar, Howard stopped. “I don’t think Emile will be distracted by Ngoc any more,” he said, referring to Emile’s personal assistant, who was beautiful yet somewhat formal and austere. I knew immediately that Howard was wrong. “I’ve noticed how excited Emile and Natasha are together,” Howard added, as if he could read my mind.

Walking a few steps more, Howard stopped again. “By the way,” he said, “Natasha no longer is interested in the apartments at the Sailing Tower.” He smiled. “Emile convinced her that he would find them a townhouse.” He smiled again. “He meant that I would find one.”

“But you don’t have any confidence in Emile, do you?” I said.

We sat down at a small table. Howard said, “I hope Natasha is reasonable.”

“But you aren’t convinced that Emile can stay out of trouble,” I replied. “He’s trying to be careful now, but he’ll slip up. Right?”

“Oh, God. Don’t say that.”

Purple Jade Bar

The waitress brought a wine list. After scanning the list, Howard selected the most expensive bottle of Pinot Noir. “Three glasses,” he said. The waitress walked away.

“I can’t stay long,” Emile said, suddenly appearing and dropping into a chair across from us. “I have a meeting in 15 minutes,” he added. “But it looks like we will start drilling soon.”

The waitress returned, placed three wine glasses on the table, and removed the cork from the bottle. She poured some wine into the glasses.

Emile picked up the glass in front of him. “I want to thank both of you for all of your help,” he said as Howard and I lifted our glasses. “Now that Natasha is here, I hope you will help her.” He took another sip of wine. “It’s important that my project is a success,” he added. “The one at Nha Trang.”

Howard finished his glass. Emile rose abruptly and left.

Turning to me, Howard said, “Emile is negotiating with the Vietnamese by himself today.” He poured himself another glass of wine. “Andrei had to go to Kiev and then to Moscow. I think Ngoc went to visit her family in Hanoi.”

Howard poured more wine into his glass and yawned. “I’m going upstairs to my room. I need a nap,” he said. “Finish the wine, if you can.” He turned to leave, but then stopped. “I think our job will be easier from now on,” he said, “but I’ve been wrong before.”

After Howard went upstairs, I called Binh, who said he could pick me up in 10 minutes. I drank a little more red wine.

I exited the lobby of Hotel InterContinental and stood under the shade of a small tree. Dark clouds hung low over the city. I looked at my watch. It was almost 4:00.

As I was opening the door to get into Binh’s taxi, I caught a glimpse of two people, a man and a woman, getting into a large, black Mercedes farther up the block. Emile had one arm around Ngoc’s waist.

Traditional Dress

Auntie’s Restaurant

At 6:15 in the evening, a steady rain fell on the streets of Ho Chi Minh City. Binh brought his taxi to a stop in front of a narrow, three-story house in an alley off Nguyễn Thị Minh Khai Street in District 1. It was the house where Karen rented a room.

“How was your tour of Duy’s factory this afternoon?” Karen said to me, after dashing through the rain and sitting on the back seat of the car next to me. She shook water off her umbrella onto the seat and all over me.

“Oh, no,” Karen said. “I’m sorry.”

“I think I was wrong about Duy,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Karen said to me and turned toward Binh, speaking in Vietnamese.

Karen turned back toward me. “Now Binh has the address of the restaurant owned by the aunt of Emily’s boyfriend,” she said. “It’s in Phu Nhuan District.”

“What’s its name?” I asked.

Karen looked impatient. “I don’t know,” she said. “Auntie’s Restaurant?” She laughed. “How were you wrong?”

“Well,” I said, “Duy seems to take his work, and all of the people who work for him, personally.”

Karen stared at me for a few moments. She squinted her eyes. “What did you talk about?” I told her. “What else?” she asked. I was silent. “That’s it?” She was dissatisfied.

Karen stared at me for another few moments, and then looked away.

“I received a text message from Duy a few hours ago,” Karen said. “Since there will be a power outage in Thu Duc District tomorrow, Duy has to shut down his factory during the day. For the evening, he also has cancelled my English class.” She paused. “Then he has invited me to go to the opera with him that night.”

I frowned. The prospect of going to the opera didn’t appeal to me.

“And he invited you,” Karen added.

“Duy is very careful, and he is very clever,” I replied.

Binh brought his taxi to a stop at the corner of Nguyễn Trọng Tuyển and Nguyễn Đình Chính Streets. The rain had stopped. Two couples were sitting at tables in front of a small restaurant. We had arrived at Auntie’s Restaurant.

Hotel Vissai

When Karen and I entered the restaurant a few minutes before 7:00, Emily stood up from a table against the back wall. “Cao couldn’t make it,” she said, referring to her boyfriend, a military officer. “He couldn’t leave the barracks tonight, after all. He couldn’t leave his men there. They were being punished. He told me to invite you to our place this week-end.”

I was in a hurry. After dinner, I told Karen and Emily I had to work and went outside. Binh waited around the corner.

At 8:30, I entered the lobby of Hotel Vissai.

I met Lan near the elevators. “Whatever you gave me this morning has cured my lung problem,” I said. “What time are you off work?”

“10:00.”

“Meet me at the pool.”

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter eight: legacies and left behinds

Joey held the door for Sam and she strolled into the tiny cozy cafe over by the lake waters. She was greeted by that warm aroma of coffee despite it being nearly dinner time, as well as that smell of freshly made food from behind the counter on the right side of the room. Short spindly stools lined the floor beneath that heavy wooden counter top, but Joey led her to the little table on the far side of the room, next to one of the larger of the bay windows in there.

She peered to her right, out the window to the deserted street and the little deep blue sliver of the lake. Joey took off his sunglasses and shook his thick jet black curls about. He showed her a thoughtful look and then he nestled his chin in the palm of his hand.

“What's on your mind right now?” she asked him in a soft voice, even though they were far removed from the other people in there.

“What, me?” he replied.

“Yeah. You look like there's a lot on your mind right now. Like there's something you want to tell me.” She eyed the slender shape of his forearms, and they made her think of the trees that lined the shore outside.

He shook his head.

“Not really, no,” he admitted. “I'm more thinkin' 'bout what I'm gonna have to eat here, to be perfectly honest.” His brown eyes gazed back at her, as soft as the ground out there. If Cliff was a man of many colors, Joey was a boy who hailed from the earth. He ran his long fingers through the ringlets on the side of his head and he showed her a sweet little smile.

“Do you want to take me out to the lake?” she asked him.

“The big lake?” He knitted his eyebrows together.

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely. If you like it here, you'll really like it out by where I grew up at. Hopefully, anyways. 'Swaygo is kind of an industrial coastal type town—the type'a place you'd see in like Rhode Island or Massachusetts, up in New England. It's a little more rustic, though. I'll show ya soon enough.”

Within time the waitress arrived at their table and Joey was eager to ask for a little cup of coffee for the both of them.

“Don't wanna spend too much, y'know,” he told Sam.

“Of course, of course.”

“Here's a little known fact—” Joey raised a finger and lowered his voice. “—the only other person who knows about this is Danny—Spitz, our other guitarist, not Lilker.”

“What's that?”

“I actually taped the very first penny I ever made on my bedroom wall,” he said.

“Taped it?” she chuckled.

“Yeah. Call me a cheap skate, but it meant the world to me to make that single penny. I was proud of it and I wanted to show to my father especially that I could make money making music.”

“By the way, are you and your dad close at all?” Sam tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“Oh, yeah, but he wishes I could do better, though. A few times he's told me that when he was my age, he already met my mom and they settled up in 'Swaygo.”

“How old are you again?”

“I'm twenty four,” he replied with a nod of his head, “—I'll be twenty five this October.”

“That was it!” she said with a wag of her finger. “You're the older one of the bunch. I couldn't remember if it was you or Scott.”

“Yeah, I'm the big brother,” he chuckled at that and showed her a lopsided grin. “The big brother and the one who's put in the work the most before I joined. Before them, I was in bands all over upstate for about six years. Singing and drumming. Or drumming and singing, I can do both.”

“Have you ever done both at the same time?” she asked as she leaned back in the spindly chair.

“I've thought about it but—” He shook his head. “—nah. It just never came up. I was always either asked to drum or sing, but never both. I always thought that would be a nice li'l challenge for future me, you know?”

“I think it would be nice to draw or maybe paint something while you're playing music,” she suggested, “I kinda did that with Stormtroopers.”

“It's funny, I was actually thinking of that earlier,” he began again as he ran his fingers through his ringlets a second time; small fine little ringlets right over his ear; “like—Sam oughta join us at some point in a studio session and set up an easel on one side of the room, and we can all be each other's muses for a day.”

“I still want to draw you,” she confessed.

“Like—just my face or a full body drawing?” he followed along.

“Full body,” she replied. “Just—out of mere curiosity. And I feel like it can also help me with the masculine anatomy a bit. Sometimes it's hard to understand these things, especially the ones below the belt.”

Joey paused, and then he raised an eyebrow at that.

“I thought you just wanted to draw my face,” he recalled as he bowed his head.

“Well, that was then,” she pointed out. “I've gotten into art school—I think it's time I challenge myself a little bit.”

He nodded his head at that and his eyes darted about the surface of the table.

“Sounds reasonable,” he said in a soft voice.

“Now, please understand I don't want to make you uncomfortable,” she continued as she folded her hands over the table surface. “I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do. If it's too much for you, I can just forget it and move on to something else that can prove to be a challenge.”

Joey gazed on at her with his head still bowed and his eyes wide with concern. He swallowed and shifted his weight in his seat.

“We can give it a shot one on one,” she suggested. “You know, so you’re a bit more comfortable with the whole thing. How does that sound?”

“I trust that you don’t share it with anyone,” he said, still in a soft voice.

“Just like this little day trip,” she continued on, “it’ll just be between you and me. It’ll just be our little secret.”

He swallowed again. She gazed into his soft brown eyes and then at the rest of his round oval shaped face. Sam then leaned forward with her arms folded over the top of the table.

“Joey, listen to me,” she started again in a near whisper, “I will put it under lock and key if I have to. Again, I won’t do it if you’re feeling uncomfortable about the whole thing. I promise—“

But she was cut off by the waitress and the cups of coffee for the two of them, and then she followed it up with the little pad of paper from that small apron pocket. As she sipped her coffee, she kept an eye on the placid lake waters outside. She sighed through her nose and then she took in a small whiff of the fresh coffee.

She was home. Upstate New York welcomed her with open arms lined by the fresh smell of the lakes as if she was meeting an old friend. She took in another whiff of the coffee before she took a sip of it. So rich and beany!

Sam returned to Joey, whose expression never changed as he stared out the window for himself. He was silent even when the waitress brought their food in both hands as if she served them with a silver platter. He was careful to eat his sandwich and the accompanying handful of fries next to it on the plate. She frowned and then she stared out the window yet again at the sky as it bled away to a rich royal purple from the setting sun. Sam hadn’t lived in a place that had so many lakes and thus she wanted to experience it while she had the chance.

“When we’re done here, you wanna take a walk around the lake shore?” she suggested.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, still in a low voice.

He offered to cover their as well as leave a tip, and then the two of them made their outside to the incoming nightfall. A cool crisp breeze from the lake sent a shiver down her spine; Joey led her back to the vista point and the car, but he guided her to a narrow walkway behind the railing. Sam slipped her hands into her pockets and gazed up at the darkening sky.

“God, it's such a lovely night,” she declared as they neared the low shores of the lake: the black waters were almost smooth, much to her surprise given the breeze that swept over their heads.

“Yeah, it—it really is,” he said in an absent tone of voice. “It really, truly is.”

“Is everything okay?” she asked him; in the dim light, she noticed Joey shrugging his shoulders. “You’re still not thinking about my request, are you?”

“I am, yeah,” he replied with a bit of a sigh. Sam set a hand on his shoulder.

“Again, Joey,” she persisted, “—I’m taking it off the table if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“Well, see, that’s the thing about it,” he pointed out.

“What’s that?”

“I kinda do wanna do it,” he confessed.

“Well, what’s this whole silence thing then? It’s so confusing.” She tried to stifle a chuckle.

“I've just never been asked that before,” he answered without a change of his expression. “That’s something that’s kinda odd to me the more I think about it.”

“Well, like I said, we can do it one on one,” she recalled, “at my place. I can help you if it's really hard.”

“Would you?” He turned his head to her; in the waning sunlight, she made out the sight of the thoughtful look on his face.

“I would, yes. It's—It's something that can be nerve racking when you think about it and put your head into it.”

Joey swallowed; she peered down at his chest and his stomach, the latter of which he sucked in a bit.

“Like I said, Joey,” she continued as they neared the dark shore, “I'll put it under lock and key.”

“And you'll help me?” He stopped right in his tracks: they were several feet from the water; Sam looked in front of her at the gentlest of waves as they touched the dark sands up ahead.

“Yeah. I'll let you take it slow.”

Joey peered over his shoulder. They were alone on the shores. He returned to her and held onto the hem of his shirt: he peeled it off right in front of her. Sam gasped at the very sight of his slender dark body. His jeans hugged his hip bones and the button hung right underneath his belly button. Even in the darkness, she could make out the sight of his ribs.

“Oh, my god,” she breathed out. He looked down at his body.

“It's one thing to be up on stage like this,” he started again, still with a low voice, “but it's another thing entirely when I'm just in front of a single person. I feel like I'm about to get down.”

“Well, you aren't,” she chuckled. “I know it's dark, but let me see you, though. Let me feel—I want to know what I'm getting myself into here—”

“You're not gonna go below the belt, are you?” he asked her, concerned. He held his shirt over his forearm.

“Oh, no—I just want to touch your skin. I won't hurt you or touch you too hard, I promise.” She set a hand on his shoulder: his skin was smooth and silken. “I want to get an idea of how your body is shaped and how it feels under my fingers.”

“Sam, this is—this feels really funny,” he confessed as he jerked his arm back a bit.

“Again, I can stop at any time,” she quipped, and she raised her hands up to her chest.

“No, no, it's okay,” he insisted. “I just—y'know.”

“You're not used to it,” she said.

“Not at all. But—keep going, though. I'll hold still.”

“Hold still and relax, too.”

Joey kept his feet firmly pressed to the dark earth underneath him and his right arm, which acted as a rung for his shirt, close to his body. Sam caressed his shoulders: his dark skin was soft and smooth to the touch. He stood out against the impending darkness around them; she ran her hands onto his shoulder blades and some of his black curls brushed against the backs of her hands. She lifted her hands and brought them to the base of his head: his hair was extra smooth and fine in comparison to the rest of it.

He bowed his head closer to her so she could have a better feel of his hair and skin.

Smooth and placid, just like the lake water. His hair felt like the slightly coarse bristles of a shrub; he bowed his head a bit more which made some more of those curls dangle down over her head.

She moved her hands down his arms, home of even more of that sun kissed skin. She caressed his hands, those big paws with the long spidery fingers which already had a bit of callus on them from his few years of drumming. She then moved her hands to his chest and caressed him down from there: his body was delicate and light, but strong, and as a result, it made her think of silk.

Even through the darkness, she could see he had closed his eyes. When she lay her hands on his waist, he shuddered his shoulders a little bit.

“You okay?” she asked him in a gentle voice.

“Yeah, I'm just—kinda—”

“What?”

He nibbled on his bottom lip even as she held her hands upon his stomach.

“What is it?” she asked him again. He never replied, and so she moved her hands off of him. Slowly, he raised his head and he opened his eyes: those dark irises gazed back at her from the darkness and the crown of pitch black curls all around his head.

“Is everything okay?” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, that's—kind of a tender spot for me, to be really honest,” he confessed. “Right on my stomach. It gets easily upset and I've been hit a bunch of times there with a hockey puck.”

“Oh, Jesus,” she quipped.

“Yeah... it felt kinda good, though. Having your hands glide all over me. It actually felt quite nice.”

He peered up at the inky sky overhead: the first stars had long appeared and were joined by several more, but the moon was nowhere to be seen as of yet.

“Wanna head on back?” he suggested. “Y'know, I gotta be in the City, too.”

“Yeah, let's—let's do that.” She nodded her head.

“You don't mind if I keep my shirt off, do you?”

“Oh, not at all,” she promised him; through the dim light, she made out the sight of his lopsided grin. “What's that look for?”

“Of course you don't mind,” he giggled, to which she scoffed and rolled her eyes. Joey led her back up the walkway towards the vista point and the car; indeed, when he opened the driver's side door, the little light on the ceiling bathed him in soft yellow light and made him resemble to a little lizard. He slung his shirt over the back of the seat before he climbed into the seat which brought a laugh out of her.

“What?” he asked her.

“You are such a guy,” she teased him.

“Well, duh,” he retorted, and they both laughed in unison. They shut their doors at the same time, and then they headed away from there, back towards New York City. The lights from the Syracuse skyline dotted the dark earth, all the way to the very edge of the wilderness. Within time, they were met with complete darkness.

“Man, it's spooky out here, isn't it?” Sam remarked: the glow from the headlights shone upon the trees on either side of the highway. They were the only ones on the road.

“You only saw part of it a few months back,” Joey told her, “when you, Frankie, and Charlie came out to rescue me and also when Stormtroopers recorded their album. This is the very essence of upstate right here. You should really see it when it rains, too, especially when night comes over like this. It's like something out of a horror novel.”

They fell back into silence as Sam kept her eye on the tree line outside of the car. She gazed up at the sky: not a star to be seen. She ran her finger tips over each other so she could better recall the feeling of Joey's body. It was definitely something she needed to do a second time unlike with Frank, who was there by her side the whole step of the way.

Joey then cleared his throat and spoke again.

“By the way, I should also tell ya that Legacy is opening for us.”

“Really? Aw, good for them.”

“Yeah—and I hope we get to see you and Cliff dance again to them.” He laughed at that.

“Complete with the tulips,” she joked.

“One of you should put one in your mouth like you're doin' a tango,” he suggested, and she burst out laughing.

“I should wear like one of those long billowy skirts, too,” she added.

“Oh, yeah! That long kinda rich red velvet skirt that goes down to yer ankles. That, plus a little white button up top.” Right when he said that, she thought about undoing a few buttons to show Cliff some of her chest.

“Have my hair down, too.”

“Combine that with his cowboy get up and you get quite the scene,” Joey declared with a little gyration of the head. Every so often, a few lights glimmered through the trees and Sam wondered if any of those people were a part of something or if they were their own thing in the lush forests of upstate. She flashed back on California, and how some parts were so vacant and wide open, from the desert on the eastern side of the mountains to the forests in the northern part of the state.

Within time, the lights from Poughkeepsie pierced the darkness, and she could make out the faint silhouette of the Catskills off in the distance. It would be another hour or so before the New York City skyline appeared through the vast blackness around them.

By that time, Joey fetched up a rather large yawn and he arched his back.

“Are you gonna have enough to drive yourself home?” she asked him as signs for the Bronx popped up on the side of the road.

“I dunno,” he confessed.

“I'll let you crash on my couch again,” she offered. He yawned a second time and brought both hands back to the steering wheel.

“I also don't think it'd even be worth it to go back home 'cause we're playing down here.”

“Right, right, right.”

“Might as well crash on your couch tonight.”

“I hope the phone doesn't ring at one o'clock in the morning like it did last time, too,” she said.

“That was Cliff who did that, right,” he recalled.

“You promise to keep a secret?”

“I'll take secrets to the grave with me if I have to,” he vowed. “That includes your little smooch with him, too.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “But yeah, it was Cliff. He called me and asked me out.”

“Really.” She could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“Really, really. So—if he and I actually dance the night away again at the show—”

“It's gonna be... the real thing,” he softly said.

Sam turned her head towards him and the nonchalant look on his face. He never made note of it for the rest of the trip, but she could feel it within him. When they headed upstairs to her room, Joey was still silent even as he lay down on her couch. Sam yawned as she locked the door, and she felt it would be the best time to turn it in for the night herself.

The next morning, they awoke bright and early and headed down to L'Amour via the subway, lest Joey put extra stress on his new car. Zetro sat outside of the venue with a cup of coffee in hand and a mostly burnt cigarette in the other. He put the cigarette in between his lips and then showed them a pretty little wave as they pulled up to the spot next to him. Sam waved her hand before her face even though the breeze blew the smoke the other way.

“I don't like it, either,” Joey told her in a low voice, “it's hard on the voice box.”

“It's okay, I'm almost done,” he promised her as a plume billowed out of his mouth. Alex emerged from the door next to him and coughed at the smell of it.

“Bloody hell, dude,” he groaned: even from behind his big dark sunglasses, Sam could make out the look of complete disgust on his little round face.

“C'mon, toughen up, little man!” Zetro proclaimed as he dropped the butt onto the sidewalk and let it smolder. Alex scoffed at that and kept on walking to the opposite side of the venue: the little sliver of gray over his forehead blended into the rest of his helmet of rich dark curls, but that didn't stop Sam from picturing it.

“He ain't little, either,” Joey continued with his voice still low; “I stood next to him just a couple of days ago. That kid's bigger than me.”

Alex disappeared around the far corner of the building as Joey and Sam climbed out of the car.

“Hey, kids,” Zetro greeted them as he brought the cup of coffee to his mouth. “We're just getting set up at the moment, so don't get too excited as of yet.”

“You guys and Anthrax?” Joey asked him.

“Yeah, Scott and Charlie are in there already. Frankie and Danny should be here like—any minute.” Zetro hesitated for a moment. “By the way—hope you don't mind me asking, but are you and little Sam I am here a thing?”

“Oh, no, we're just friends,” she declared with a wave of her hand. He raised an eyebrow at her but he never said anything after that. Instead, he reached behind him and opened the door for them to head on inside. Charlie had taken his seat at a table on the edge of the room with a cup of coffee and a comic book plunked open before him. Sam recalled what Cliff had said about them and their comic books, and she wondered if there was any more beyond that.

“'Mornin', Charlie,” Joey decreed.

“'Mornin', Joey,” he returned the favor with a glance up from those inked pages, “and li'l Sam.”

“Catching up on a little reading?” Sam gestured to the comic book.

“All the time as of late,” he proclaimed with a twinkle in his eye. “But it's actually something I've always liked, but I never really told you about because—” He pursed his lips together, and Joey turned to her.

“It's not really something girls do,” he finished for him.

“Pretty much,” Charlie said with a shrug. “Marla puts up with it. Well, and she's not really exposed to it much so that's just what I've seen with her.”

Right as the words left his lips, Marla herself emerged from behind the stage with a small white cup of coffee in hand. Sam let her eyes wander to the stage where a small drum kit had already been set up and a bass guitar rested on a small wiry rack.

“Speaking of Marla,” Joey started.

“You talkin' 'bout me?” she asked him; Sam noticed the dark roots already coming forth on the crown of her head, right within the helmet of bright orange.

“Not really,” Charlie quipped. She squinted her eyes at him, and he sank down in his seat. Sam thought about the dream she had had, where she barged in on Marla and Joey's wedding. It was a fleeting thought but a thought nonetheless. Marla took a sip from her coffee.

“Plenty more where that came from, too,” she declared with a gesture to the comic book. “And how.”

“It's not a lot, though,” Charlie promised.

“You guys and your comic books,” she chuckled.

“I kinda like it,” Sam admitted.

“Really?” Marla, Charlie, and Joey all said in unison.

“Yeah, that's cool you guys are into that,” she continued. “It is an art after all.”

“Hell yeah, it is!” Charlie declared, again with a twinkle in his eye. “I've wanted to write a comic book since I was a kid, believe it or not. I just haven't been able to.”

“All the paper and the ink that goes into it,” Marla added. Something caught Sam's eye: she turned her head and spotted Louie and Greg taking to the stage.

“Doin' all our sound checking,” Louie called out to them as he took his seat behind the drums. He picked up his sticks and set his feet on the pedals. Greg slung the bass over his shoulder. He shook his dark hair about so it covered most of his face. Using two fingers, he plucked at the strings and the softest noise came out. Louie tapped his snare drum a tiny bit, and then he followed it with his toms and one of the cymbals. The two of them glanced at one another and cackled; Louie pounded the drums and Greg took one step forward to give it more juice.

Just a sole rhythm section and they created a thick wall of sound. It was so loud and sudden, it made Sam jump back.

“Oh my god, they're gonna be louder than they were the last time,” she remarked.

“Babies've got some new speakers!” Marla exclaimed over Greg's thundering bass and Louie's thumping kick drum.

“It's gonna be kind of a tough act to follow,” Charlie said to them in a loud voice so they could hear, “these boys are getting tight real quick.”

They stopped playing all of a sudden, which caught the four of them off guard.

“Damn,” Joey called out. Greg and Louie gave each other a high five. Aurora emerged from behind the stage with a clipboard tucked under her arm.

“How'd that sound, Aurora?” Greg called out to her as he slung his bass off of his shoulder.

“Exactly like how you should!” she replied with a peer over her shoulder. She returned to them with a beaming smile on her face.

“Gonna be hell of a show tonight,” Sam told her.

“Absolutely!” Aurora continued to beam at them. She halted right in front of her and lifted one of the pages on her clipboard.

“If you ladies can get some ear plugs,” Charlie told her as he shifted his weight in his seat; “that'd be fantastic. Like, even just sittin' here, I can tell you all it's gonna be so loud tonight.”

“Oh my god,” Aurora blurted out.

“What?” Sam turned to her.

“This is apparently the last time we're going to see Zetro with Legacy,” she stated, and she gaped at the paper: she even let it drift down to the stack on the clipboard. Marla gasped at that.

“What! Why?”

“He's going to another Bay Area band,” Aurora explained as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Exodus. Jon didn't give me the full story, but I guess they fired their old singer—Paul—and they asked Zetro to join in with them as their lead.”

“Exodus,” Sam noted. “As in the book from the Bible, Exodus.”

“Right! Kirk—from Metallica—used to be with them until just a couple of years ago.”

“Good choice, too, I say,” Marla chimed in with a shuffle of her feet. “That's just from what I've heard—just from being with Charlie and hanging out with Zetro, Zelda, and Louie is those guys are struggling like crazy right now.”

“Oh, yeah, something about their problems with the label and trying to release their record,” Aurora recalled in a single breath. “It was never really explained to me—in fact, I don't think Jon even knows the whole story come to think of it. We're based here in New York and they're still way the hell out in California, in the Bay Area—again, in the Bay Area. But one thing I will say is it sounds like that record could've been something, like it could've set the stage for all of these boys.”

“And now the dude is out,” said Sam.

“And now the dude is out, right!” Aurora echoed.

“Do you know who their new lead singer is gonna be?” Joey asked her.

“Ummm... some guy named Chuck. Zetro recommended him, from what I saw just now. Chuck—something or other...” She shuffled through the papers on the clipboard. “Yeah. Chuck Billy! That's his name. I've yet to hear him sing, though—I hope he's a good fit for them.”

“Zelda's not gonna be happy, though,” Marla declared.

"No, she won't," Charlie added as he flipped the page of his comic.