#so basically my family waited so long to get me a manual chair that now i think i require a power chair

[nexus-nebulae]

that moment when your health is neglected for so long that the thing you originally needed to fix it won't work anymore :)

[cherryblossomriot]

i had a dream the other day that was basically a dinluke cowboy au and it has been HAUNTING me, so just allow me to deposit it upon you like my subconscious drop kicked it onto me:

Luke is a disabled veteran who has returned from war one hand lighter and several scars heavier. When he returns, his family, who are heavily involved in the politics/military of this fictional land, don’t understand his now jaded and melancholic view of both the world, but also the ideologies that they so strongly believe in, leading him to constantly feel like an outcast even among the people that he so dearly loves. They’re all passionate and strong-willed, but they still don’t understand, not his struggles with mental health or his new perspective, and it just makes things worse and worse and worse. Anakin is a general, and though he’s seen the gruesomeness of war firsthand, he’s also become desensitized to it and has anger-management issues, so he often almost finds a sort of refuge within the chaos of battle, so he clearly cannot even fathom the emotions and trauma that Luke is trying to sort through, much less know how to deal with them properly. Padme is a senator and cares deeply about the crimes and seemingly senseless violence occurring during the war, but she’s also a politician and knows how to play the long game, so when Luke comes to her, he leaves feeling misunderstood and pushed aside. Leia is the only one who seemingly understands, as the pair of them have a deep, intrinsic bond, but she doesn’t fully grasp Luke’s moods and doesn’t handle his breakdowns and flashbacks well. So everyone feels a little upset, a little unsettled, and a lot like they don’t understand why and how Luke has changed, which leads to Luke feeling more and more out of place within his own family. The war ends relatively soon after Luke’s return, which leads to parades which leads to awards which leads to balls and banquets, all of which Luke is forced to attend, his heart dragging but his head held high, because he’s an Amidala-Skywalker goddammit, and we have a certain responsibility and image to maintain to the public and everyone who endured so much. So Luke has to sit there through awards and boasts of glory and mentions of battle scars and it goes on and on and on, and he has to smile and bear it and accept the medal that they’re giving him because he did such a great service to his country and-he has a panic attack. A nasty one that leads to him having to flee from a ballroom, and outside to the gardens. Once he’s there, he realizes that he doesn’t want to go back in. At all. So he runs away. He just picks a direction and goes, stealing a car on the way (this is a modern au but also fictional countries because I don’t want to get into real politics, hooo boy no siree). In the middle of nowhere, he gets caught in a storm and basically crashes his car and passes out. 

But when he wakes up! That’s when the fun begins. 

He’s in this cozy sort of bedroom, and this hot guy is fast asleep in the chair beside his bed, and is that a little kid in his lap? Anyway, the hot guy wakes up, introduces himself as Din Djarin in the softest, most attractive voice Luke has ever heard with his own two ears, and doesn’t ask him where he’s from or what he was doing driving in the middle of bumfuck nowhere at 3 in the morning, so Luke is obligated to have a lil crush on him, even though he’s not sure about the kid. So he asks, and Din introduces him to his son Grogu, who waves at him and signs hello, because, as Din explains, he doesn’t speak much, and the foster system wasn’t too kind to him, so he’s got a little bit of trauma to work through. And Luke just, instantly falls in love with this soft dad and his cute little son who can shift his features from the biggest, most pleading puppy eyes ever to the face of a demented gremlin who will try to eat the frog he caught in the backyard, no matter how slimy it is, or how hard it tries to wriggle out of his hands. Din tells Luke that he can stay for however long he needs, because Luke’s kinda injured from his accident, and anyway, once he’s healed up, they always could use another hand on the farm. So Luke stays, and he meets all of Din’s other farm hands (and shitty friends). There’s Boba, who doesn’t talk much, but when he does it’s always something slightly ominous and menacing, and Luke thinks that his name sounds familiar...hey wasn’t he on the news for robbing a couple banks a few years back?...no, surely not..., Fennec, who speaks even less than Boba, and manages to be far, far more intimidating, but also helps Luke with his prosthetic and gives him fun little tips that always sound more like she’s cut off a lot more limbs than she’s lost. Cara Dune (who is not gina carano but i digress) is also there, and she’s just constantly a harbinger of chaos, but will babysit Grogu whenever Din wants to brood and stare longingly into the distance (or at Luke who’s also brooding as the sun sets but shhh). Bo-Katan and the gang are there, and while Bo-Katan grumbles about how the old ranch boss had different/better methods on how to run things, she still follows Din’s lead and helps him with the finances and taxes. They all take to Luke like a wildfire, because Luke is a sunshine boy who can make friends with literally anyone and somehow manages to make Din not only smile but laugh, but also because they can tell he’s got a lot of trauma and pain bubbling just under the surface, and they all silently but collectively agreed a long time ago that they are the patron saints of troubled and lost souls. 

When Luke gets better and starts to help out, he’s constantly upset with himself because he used to help out at his aunt and uncle’s farm in the summers when he was a kid, and he knows how to do this stuff, but his prosthetic is really throwing him off and his body has sustained a lot of other injuries that make doing manual labor a much more different experience than it used to be, but everyone is really patient with him and helps him out, especially Din. At one point, Din is so nice that Luke just loses it, because he doesn’t understand how Din can be so kind and so patient, and care about him so much, and kind of calls himself broken and useless in front of Din, and Din gets super protective and grabs his hands (real and prosthetic) and tells him that he’s not broken or useless, and you’re so sweet and wonderful, and can’t you see? Ever since you’ve been here, everyone’s been so much happier, so much lighter. You’ve brought something precious to us, but most of all to me. And they’re standing really close and for a second Luke thinks Din is going to kiss him, but instead, Luke realizes that he’s crying, and Din just wraps his arms around him and holds him.

After that, time sort of blurs, marked by things like Grogu climbing into Luke’s bed because he sensed that he was having a nightmare, and Din waking up to find the pair of them coloring in a serene silence, Luke getting the hang of ranch life and his prosthetic and dealing with his panic attacks and flashbacks as they come, and Din enduring relentless badgering from his friends because hey, if you don’t marry Luke, I will and Fennec, you’re a lesbian and that doesn’t matter, it’ll be a marriage of twink and butch solidarity. And all the while, Din and Luke are spinning closer and closer towards each other, two suns hurtling in their orbit to the other with an inescapable certainty. 

When it finally happens, they’ve just gotten back from one of those cowboy dances (idk what they’re called...hoedowns? yeah okay) (and yes, I wanted to hit all of the cliches in the book, thank you very much), and Grogu’s fallen fast asleep on Luke’s shoulder. After they tuck him up all snug in his bed, they head out to the porch, because it’s raining outside, and the steady thrum of water droplets splattering on the roof and on the grass is the most soothing sound Luke has ever heard (aside from Din’s voice), and he’s a little too afraid to go to sleep and ruin his perfect night with a nightmare. They stand there for a while, silence binding them together, shoulders brushing every now and then, hesitant and questioning. Luke thinks about how Din had asked him to dance earlier, his lips tilted in a teasing, but achingly soft smile, and how his heart had pounded a tattoo to the shape of his ribs when they’d pushed up so close together, the fast, rowdy dances of the beginning of the night having faded to something lasting, something meaningful. Luke remembers the ball he’d run away from, how the dancing had been cold, almost jeering in a way, and Luke realizes how far he’s come, how different it is here. And suddenly, there isn’t a question in his mind anymore. He turns toward Din, who turns toward him, and when he leans forward, Din breathes an uncertain “Luke-”, but he doesn’t get to finish the thought. Luke kisses him, and he kisses back, and it’s just them. There are hands in hair and noses nudged together, and at some point, they move, without either of them releasing the other, into the house and into Din’s bedroom. Buttons are unbuttoned, and whole stretches of skin are kissed, and when it’s over, they curl up together, Din tucking his head into the crook of Luke’s neck and falling asleep there. 

When they wake up, Luke explains why he came here, why he ran away, all the while Din looks at him with his beautiful dark eyes and runs his hands through Luke’s hair, which is catching the sunlight filtering in through the window and making him look like he has a halo, all the while never once condemning him for keeping it a secret this whole time. After he’s finished, he expects some sort of shocked reaction-after all, his family’s pretty famous, but all Din does is kiss him and ask, “Wait, so you have a twin?” 

It’s so unexpected that Luke throws his head back and bursts into uncontrollable, and very contagious peals of laughter, and when he’s finally able to breathe again, he kisses Din’s forehead and murmurs, “I love you.” 

Din, who has been touch starved and lonely for years (no time for relationships when you’ve got a business to run and a toddler to raise), tears up and kisses him, too overwhelmed for words. But Luke understands.  

And then Grogu pushes his way into the room holding up a box of Frosted Flakes above his head and shaking it, as if to say, I’d like to eat now, please. 

Din and Luke stifle their smiles into the other’s shoulder, and when they get up, Luke can’t help but think that he’s finally where he belongs.

----

It takes approximately .5 seconds for all the others to figure out they’re together now, and Cara and Bo-Katan (of all people) start cheering immediately, to Din and Luke’s shock. Boba and Fennec grumble and begrudgingly hand over a huge wad of cash each to Cara and Bo-Katan because they thought it would take them at least another two weeks to get together. Din’s very done with his friends at this point, but he takes one look at Luke’s flustered but smiling face and decides he won’t kill them all this time. 

And if everyone thought Luke was a lot of excitement for a humble ranch in the middle of nowhere, then they are in no way, shape, or form, prepared for when his very angry twin sister shows up with a himbo with a shit-eating grin and his 7 foot tall best friend she hired to track her brother down. 

(needless to say, Boba punches Han within two minutes of interaction).

[eclectic-aussie]

Random Thoughts #15

Well damn, that was a heavy episode. I kind of regret stumbling on tumblr before watching the episode because the ending was spoiled but at the same time it gave me time to brace myself for it, though my hearts still sore at the betrayal even if Bellamy thinks it’s like chipping Madi: done for the greater good.

But after seeing the promo for next week I’m also regretting not waiting until all the episodes aired so I could binge watch them BECAUSE GOD DAMN IT, I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT AND I WANT TO KNOW NOW!! Which is only the second time I’ve really felt that way all season, the first after last weeks episode when Clarke came back.

I can’t help but wonder at a few possibilities that might come up; the Conductor accused Bellamy of selfish obsessive love (though honestly I’d say that’s more his girlfriend than him, but not the point) and Bellamy past insecurities and self doubt/loathing makes him blind to the good he’s done (he convinced Madi to spare the prisoners and bring them with them on the Eligius, put the Flame in Madi to try and make a peace treaty with the Eligius which became moot after Murphy accidentally on purpose put McCreary in charge just to name 2)

But what I think may come up is that while the Conductor decided Bellamy’s love is selfish, they’re going to be probing Clarke’s mind against her will (there’s a word for that, and I can’t help but think that’s going to come up later when Bellamy becomes himself again) and they’re going to realise that Clarke loves selflessly to the point where she will sacrifice her life over and over again for others she barely knows. She has taken on the pain and loss, breaking herself over and over again to protect her people. Even Roan mentioned it in season 4 when he and Bellamy were taking the Hydrozene to Raven at Becca’s lab when Bellamy scoffed at Roan for only caring about his people and Roan pointed out that Bellamy was no different and everyone was looking out for themselves (PAUSE) except maybe Clarke.

Some predictions and questions I have after this week’s episode, and seeing the promos, for the fun of it and I want to get them out:

1.Becho will break-up. It’s something I’ve said since last season, but remember a week ago when Echo was going to genocide Bardo in Bellamy’s name? Remember in the promo Echo telling Bellamy he’s ‘lost himself?’ And how Bellamy is now a member of the cult that Echo tried to massacre? You really don’t think Cadogan’s going to give the body count to Bellamy when he asks why they’re locked up? I think we’ll get a scene where Bellamy ends their relationship with Echo maybe even telling her that it took the almost genocide to realise that he had wanted so badly that who she was on the Ring was who she really was, but her actions on Bardo showed she hadn’t really changed and that she still chose to make the same mistakes as before Praimfaya but now for Spacekru instead of Azgeda. Probably ending with Raven telling Echo that it was just the brainwashing and they’ll be back together when he’s better and other things of that nature which are coddling (like how both women are treated in the show. Sorry, couldn’t resist) and unlikely. I think it will probably come after the scene where Bellamy gives Cadogan the picture of his family and he burns it to prove his detachment from personal ties. Then again he’s a sociopath so…

2.Clarke will be tortured in the M-Cap machine. Yes, we all know this will happen because of the promo, and also in the promo is the fact that Clarke is fighting it; evidenced by the black blood streaming down each side of her face as the points dig into her skull. We also know Bellamy is there watching her being tortured and as far as we know doing nothing to stop it besides probably telling her to just co-operate. I know everyone is hoping this will be where Bellamy hears the radio calls, but I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen. Now hear me out: Clarke is in that chair because Cadogan wants all info he can get about the Flame and who might have more info about it, do you really think he’s just going to stand there with his newest recruit, who he believes is the key to controlling Clarke, while her memories of her love of Bellamy possibly work to undo his indoctrination? No, I think Cadogan will use Bellamy to establish a neural link and then when he realises the threat Clarke poses to keeping Bellamy as his disciple, he’ll send him away, possibly to talk to his other friends and try to ‘reason’ with them. I also think this would be a wonderful time to have Clarke relive Echo trying to kill her ‘to avenge Bellamy’ while Raven and Shaw watch and Madi orders her down using a Heda order (not that Cadogan will know that), because it will show a previous ‘kill to avenge Bellamy’ moment that will solidify Bellamy’s belief that his break-up with Echo was the right choice, but it would also work in Cadogan’s favour of ‘selfless love over selfish love’ and the danger of personal attachments, especially if he was looking for her more recent attempt to ‘avenge Bellamy’ and just happened to stumble upon it.He’s nothing if not an opportunist.

Once he’s gone the real torture will begin while Cadogan works to get the info by any means necessary. Cadogan is a narcissistic sociopath, do you really think he’ll take any risk that Clarke will reach Bellamy? I think they’ll damn near liquify her brain and then she’ll be kept apart from her people so they don’t cause a fuss. (possibly next episode) I think then Levitt will find out how hard they pushed Clarke and when he tells Octavia and she begs him to check on her, he finds Clarke in pretty rough shape. When he tells Octavia and brings Bellamy at her request, taking him away from his tour, she then confronts Bellamy who doesn’t believe her. Then Levitt shows him the footage of Clarke being tortured which she tried to resist by remembering the radio calls as a kind of block for anything outside that purview until they push too hard and she falls unconscious. Bellamy sees her being tortured and the calls and the cracks start to deepen and the indoctrination starts to fail. I know a lot of people want Bellamy there while she’s actually tortured, but I honestly don’t think that kind of betrayal of trust and basic human rights can be forgiven (by Clarke or Bellamy forgiving himself cause he’d despise himself if that did happen) and forgotten in 4-5 episodes to the degree it will need to for them to pass the test and end up together (unless they do a ‘6 years later’ where they’re married and 5 year old sibling for Madi with another on the way, but even then). I also think he’ll stay as a ‘faithful disciple’ even as he’s pulled by both sides internally until he has more info either way and will be there when point 5 below happens.

3.Tied to above: is it safe to hook Clarke up to that thing cause like time I checked, in canon it’s only been a week since Clarke was having seizures and almost died from sharing her brain for too long with Josephine which she was warned would lead to neural degradation then death, so can she actually survive the procedure?

4.I would be so happy if they have Jordan do a ‘Monty Green stopping Bellamy, Gaia and Indra in the fighting pits’ call-back by having Jordan burst in while they’re torturing Clarke with the news that Cadogan the narcissist translated the message wrong...which didn’t end so great for Becca when she presented another option other than leaving Earth. Though honestly, I don’t think it would happen next episode, maybe the one after or at least not expanded upon too much while they’re being watched.

5. I think it’s a possibility that when they do break Clarke, the info they get will be so vague that they’ll be flummoxed by it, but Bellamy will know what it means and his final decision will be made. It will just be Madi’s drawings of Clarke as ‘Wanheda’ and the Anomaly stone, my little Nightblood in Trig, and maybe one of two little things that will mean little to the Bardoans out of context and everything to Bellamy. He’d go straight to the others, maybe grabbing Levitt on the way. The other wont trust him because it’s such an about face but Bellamy will tell them about the torture (which Octavia didn’t tell them about to keep them from getting hurt trying to protect her) reminding them that Clarke was not the last person to have the Flame, that Madi was. Raven tentatively admits that Madi had been drawing pictures from her dreams that Gaia and Clarke might be from the Flame. They need to get to Madi first (and even the dead Flame might have some info) before Cadogan gets a chance to and stop Cadogan from torturing Madi like he’s done to Clarke. It’s eventually agreed that Bellamy will distract Cadogan while Levitt and Gabriel get Clarke and the others steal enough uniforms so they can get to Sanctum with their minds intact.

6.So Levitt stopped reading Octavia’s memories during the City of Light, right? And the Conductor was spouting that the Shephard message of ‘selfless love’? Who wants to bet that Cadogan gets more than a little threatened when he starts seeing not only Clarke in the City of Light itself (Imagine them starting with being tortured by her mind controlled mother, then ‘Her friends are her weakness. Start with Bellamy Blake.’, her mother being controlled to hang herself and Clarke not giving in  and Bellamy and Murphy bursting in and Clarke becoming a temporary Nightblood  and her conversations with Jasper, Becca and ALIE, even if we only see snippets or them mentioning in as an aside to rush it along, it would be heavy hitting under the circumstances), but also the lead-up and aftermath of Praimfaya, and more specifically Clarke’s place in it? The Shephard is revered for ‘saving his people from the fire’, well Bellamy shut the door and took his people to space to save them from Praimfaya while Clarke stayed behind ON THE SURFACE OF THE PLANET in order to align the dish manually to save them. The Shephard conquered the Mountain? Bellamy and Clarke defeated the Mountain who had been kidnapping the Grounder to either use as blood bags or turning them into mindless cannibals, and tortured teenagers to death for their bone marrow even after they said they’d donate it willingly. The Shephard went on a pilgrimage for 3 months with provisions to do the aforementioned conquering of the mountain? Clarke Mother F’ing Griffin survived the 2nd Apocalypse that burnt up 96% of the Earth’s surface and not only did she survive, she managed to find the 4% or at least a large chunk on it and lived there alone with only her adoptive daughter and broken radio for company for 6 YEARS! A lot of Cadogan’s mythos and legend is his own self-aggrandizing and twisting circumstances to fit his narrative of ‘I am the one true Prophet and Saviour who will lead us into the Last War for all Mankind’, Clarke’s is from her own actions, deeds and self-sacrifice.

Because while the Bardoans may are quick to spout out the credence of “the few for the many” how many of them have actually had to back that up? And both Bellamy and Clarke have, on multiple occasions. Remember Clarke and Bellamy’s little chat with Roan before the City of Light? About how ALIE didn’t give a damn what clan you were from, she wanted to get EVERYONE? Octavia knew about it, but Clarke was there when she and Bellamy convinced Roan. And also “Are you really willing to trust that guy with your life?” “No. But you’ll be covering us the entire time, and I trust you.” Not to mention him holding her hand when she got the Flame implanted and him trusting her when she said that taking ALIE’s chip was the right choice.

Huh, the end of season 3 had a heck of Bellarke, didn’t it 😉

7.I think when Cadogan finds out that Clarke has a mind-drive in her head he’s going to be veeery interested in cutting her neck open and becoming the Shephard for all eternity. Am I wrong?

8.I’m calling it now; the final test (given by a manifestation of Becca since she’s connected to all of them and the Anomaly stone) will be between Bellamy and Clarke, Cadogan and Sheidheda. It will be straight forward and/or easy to cheat until there is trick situation where their actions, not their words, show their true beliefs and goals. Maybe showing someone they loved in the past or present (Callie and Reese, whoever Sheidheda may care for, Clarke or Bellamy being trapped and there only being time to save the other or to ‘win’)

[lovelyirony]

B99 au with the Avengers (guest starring T'challa, king of Wakanda, Jennifer Walters, queen of the law firm and our favourite; Carol Danvers, queen of space!)

presenting: the b99-inspired AU, where all the avengers work at a precinct and have fun with it.

“No,” comes the voice of Maria Hill. “We are not allocating funds from the precinct to fund this.”

“But in my defense, it will look cool and prove that we’re cool kids,” Bruce argues.

“I am not ordering a cake that says ‘the government sucks’ with edible succulents surrounding it to prove that we’re ‘cool’. Besides, you work for the government technically, Bruce.”

“Only because I get a good retirement plan out of this,” Bruce argues. “If I could get an amazing pension as a scientist researching for all eternity, I would. But as it turns out, the government doesn’t appreciate people who don’t pay taxes.”

“Criminals?” Maria asks pointedly.

“They prefer to be referred to as wealthy,” Natasha says breezily. “What, are we seriously gonna pretend like rich people don’t dodge taxes?”

“We’re not going to talk about that right now,” Fury argues. “Team, gather up! Here’s what’s going to happen.”

The team gathers around.

“Steve, you are not going to try to do anything impulsive to impress him, we don’t have time,” Fury starts out with. “And Tony, do not act aloof or anything because you think this is a waste of your time.”

“I have Project Runway on DVR, there is something better I could be doing other than my job, Sir,” Tony remarks. Bruce snickers.

“Bruce, you will not be gifting T’Challa the ‘I Heart Dismantling Big Corporations’ t-shirt. I don’t care if you already ordered it.”

“I was a slave to capitalism for nothing,” Bruce mutters.

“Natasha, do not try to intimidate him,” Fury says.

“What do you mean?” Natasha asks, flipping a knife in one hand.

“That,” Fury says flatly. “T’Challa is here to help our precinct look at international issues with nuance. He is not here to be scared away.”

“I doubt I could be,” comes a voice from behind. In walks T’Challa, who smiles genially at the small crowd. “A pleasure to see you all. I look forward to working with you.”

T’Challa is known for his work with other precincts. He’s either hailed as a hero or as a nuisance, depends on what reputation the cops have with the public.

In all respects, the “Avengers” as they call themselves are excited.

But they are also themselves.

Cue Clint Barton falling through a ceiling.

“Fifth floor stole our Keurig,” he announces, dusting plaster off of him. “Oh shit. T’Challa dude was coming today?!”

Fury grits his teeth and turns.

“I apologize for Clint here, but every team needs the country idiot,” Tony says. “And he found our Keurig, which means I have to give you my leave. I’ll be back in thirty.”

T’Challa watches Tony gesture to a man with a metal arm, and they’re racing to the stairs.

“Is that...normal?” he asks.

“Yes, unfortunately,” Rhodey says with a sigh. “I’m Colonel Rhodes. People call me Rhodey. Nice to meet you. Welcome to hell.”

-

T’Challa would not describe it as hell. He would describe it as more of a circus with incredible results.

He’s studied the team. They have amazing arrest records, have the best public image that he knows of, and are incredibly inclusive and investigative.

And...entertaining, if the last six hours are anything to go by.

They’ve received a new case, something about a robbery involving over twenty thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry.

T’Challa accompanies Steve, Tony, and Natasha to the crime scene.

Steve examines the footage before beckoning for Tony and Nat.

“What level we dealing with here?”

“Six,” Tony says. “Look at the way they move, they’re definitely here on an assignment from someone else.”

“But they’re new to the business,” Natasha points out. “Look at how that guy’s head turns. He doesn’t know how to angle it away from the camera. Level Five.”

“Concurred. Let’s go see the case.”

T’Challa is...impressed.

But he knows the way that jewelry works; his little sister is particularly an aficinado for “correcting” thievery movies or the secret agent movies, and keeps him updated on jewelry and its value.

“I like to know its worth!” Shuri had defended.

“This is just because you’ve been obsessed with seeing Rihanna in Ocean’s 8,” Nakia had teased her.

“And? Don’t tell me you weren’t having to manually close your jaw after seeing all of the gala looks.”

“Fair point.”

He turns back to the case at hand.

“They stole only rubies,” Natasha says. “Why?”

“Real rubies are so rare that their worth on the market is unspecified, meaning you can define your own value,” T’Challa answers.

“Back to Level Six,” Tony says. “So. Let’s review the footage. Face covered, professional, but new to the business. Who has the power to contract this out?”

“I have someone we need to talk to,” Natasha says. “Let’s head back after witness statements.”

Carol Danvers is a worldwide traveler. If space travel was a thing and they proved that aliens were real to the public, she would most likely be out in space dealing with that.

But she’s well-traveled is the main point of this. Which means she knows international criminals, as does T’Challa.

They greet each other.

“Didn’t know you made housecalls,” Carol remarks, sitting down in Bruce’s chair. He doesn’t protest, just gives her a raised eyebrow.

“On occasion,” T’Challa responds, grinning. “Good to see you again, Captain. Any leads?”

“One,” Carol says. “Red Skull. American, moved to Germany. Really weird, has a thing for the color red and being a genuinely terrible person. Steve kicked his face in once. It was cool.”

“My foot hurt for two weeks,” Steve whined.

“Baby,” Natasha snorts. “Anyone seen Thor or Clint around?”

“Thor is currently negotiating dinner plans with Bruce’s family,” Tony says. “It’s not going well. Thor wants Bruce to have a sit-down dinner and Jennifer wants them to wait until eleven.”

“Why eleven?”

“She has a big court case. Her office hours are basically until midnight. Thor says that’s too long. Jen told him that if he truly wants dinner at seven, she’s willing to let a woman who robbed three different banks to buy luxury cars go.”

“Harsh,” Carol says. “Thor should’ve learned by now.”

“Perpetual lack of common sense,” Bruce comments, walking by. “Partially my type.”

“The other part?” Carol asks.

“Not legally allowed to say.”

“There was an...incident,” Fury responds. “Bruce has limited amounts of conversational topics he can partake in after the great Thirst of Thursday.”

“My creative title,” Steve says brightly. “I am scarred for life!”

T’Challa laughs.

-

They do catch the criminal. Natasha manages to find...someone. Carol moves a car. It’s all quite impressive.

At the end of the night, he is invited with the rest of the group for a round of drinks and dinner.

He enjoys seeing the teamwork, and enjoys being a part of it. Bruce smokes them all in a round of BS (new card game, his father will definitely enjoy it too much), and he’s invited by the ladies to be adventurous in drink choices.

(He ends up choosing a lot of wrong ones.)

But he gets the feeling that this won’t be the last time he sees this team.

Or the last time that Clint Barton doesn’t have pants.

[cpd5021]

Unexpected - Chapter 16

This one is all over the place, kinda fluffy, a little angsty but not really, and definitely a little....rated M at the end 😉 . I wanted to move this along a little bit so we take a time jump in this chapter. Enjoy! 

A week had passed since Hailey and Jay had their heart to heart and things were good between them. Or getting there at least. Hailey was over at Jay’s apartment, which was soon to be Vanessa’s, helping him pack up the kitchen. Jay had told her he could extend his lease another month, give her more time and space to heal from his actions the week prior, but Hailey had told him it wasn’t necessary. They were talking and opening up more with each other than they ever had, which was saying a lot considering how much they had been through together over the years. But both of them were making a pointed effort to express their emotions and concerns to the other. Hailey was wrapping up some of his glasses in packing paper and Jay was working on his closest and dressers. They had decided to leave most of his furniture and, to Vanessa’s delight, his TV. Hailey’s house was fully furnished and Vanessa had next to nothing. 

“What do you think, should I leave this for V?” Jay asked, walking out of his bedroom holding a giant stuffed panda. 

“What the hell is that?” Hailey asked with a laugh. 

“That,” Jay said, setting the panda on the table and coming to stand beside her. “Is a long, drunken story. But, for the record, if Will ever challenges you to one of those claw machine games...just know, he’s the wrong Halstead for the job.” Jay winked and bumped her shoulder with his. 

“Noted.” Hailey nodded, still smiling. “I’m just about done in here. I packed all your collectible glassware but left the basics for her.” Hailey pointed to a box containing all of Jay’s NHL mugs. “Thanks again for letting her have all this stuff.” 

“Nah, no problem. I don’t have a use for it and if it helps her get on her feet that’s fine by me.” Jay shrugged it off, moving to tape up the last box. 

“Plus you’re saving me from having to go decor shopping with her. At least temporarily.” Hailey rolled her eyes when Jay chuckled at the thought. “Although she has been pestering me about baby shopping, even printed me out a list of baby necessities.” 

“It’s a tiny human, how much could it need?” Jay asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“A lot apparently...” Hailey shook her head, thinking back to the full page list Vanessa had left on her desk. 

They finished packing up his bedroom and then hauled everything down to the truck, Jay taking more trips than Hailey when she found herself winded after the second trip. After everything was secured in his truck, they headed back to her house. To their house. Hailey would be helping Vanessa take her stuff to the apartment later but for now they just planned on unpacking the few boxes Jay was bringing. 

******

A few hours later, Hailey was passed out on the couch, seemingly exhausted from their afternoon of manual labor. Vanessa got home shortly after five, having been forced into some mandatory patrol detail by Platt. Jay sat on the couch, Hailey’s sleeping feet draped across his lap when the younger woman bounced into the room, her face immediately melting into a grin at the sight before her. 

“Awe, how cute.” She whispered, scrunching her face up with another grin. 

“Yeah, all that work knocked her out. I don’t think she’s going to be much help tonight.” Jay gave Vanessa a sheepish look, his smile faltering when he saw disappointment reach her eyes. “I can help you take your stuff over, that way you can settle in before you rope her into decor shopping.” Jay smiled, nodding towards Hailey’s sleeping form. “She’s super excited to go.” He knew he would pay for that later but he couldn’t help himself. Vanessa eagerly agreed, immediately turning to bound up the stairs to grab her belongings. Jay shifted Hailey’s feet off him, smiling when she didn’t even budge. He tentatively made his way up the stairs, unsure of how much Vanessa would actually have to take. He peaked into the room and saw her tossing a pile of clothes into a black garbage bag, the sight reminding him of some college kid and bringing a small smile to his face. She glanced up then, looking mildly embarrassed but quickly nodded towards a box in the corner of her room. Jay stepped in to pick it up and then carefully made his way back down the stairs and out into his truck. Vanessa joined him shortly after, stating that the bag and the box was all she had, looking embarrassed once again by her lack of belongings.

“When I got back from the Army, I spent almost a year bouncing around from place to place with nothing more than a duffel bag.” He told her trying to lighten the mood. 

“Yeah, I didn’t get to keep a lot in foster care and I guess it’s kinda stuck.” She shrugged, looking out the window. 

“Rest assured, you are now the proud owner of Chicago’s finest china, a giant TV and a prize winning panda bear.” Jay laughed as her face quickly went from excitement to confusion as he finished talking. 

 “Wait...what?” She asked with a laugh.

“Long story, but it’s one of my most prized possessions and now he’s yours.” Jay teased, earning another laugh. 

“I’m honored.” She fanned herself mockingly before clutching her chest. They continued in silence for awhile, neither having anything to really say. But Jay could tell there was something the younger woman wanted to bring up. 

“I feel like there’s something you’re holding back..” He finally pushed, using his newfound skill to state what was on his mind. 

“It’s not really my place...except it kinda is I guess because she’s the closest thing to family I have....just...just don’t hurt her Jay.” Vanessa spoke quietly, unsure of how he would respond. 

“She told me you were there for her in the hospital. I can’t thank you enough for that.” Jay tightened his grip on the wheel, remembering that night. “I should have been there. If something worse would have happened, I’d have never forgiven myself.”

“Yeah... It turned out alright though. And you two seem to be getting through it.” Vanessa sent him a small smile. 

“I promise I won’t do anything that stupid again.” He told her, but also promising himself at the same time. 

“And I promise I’ll kick your ass if you do.” Vanessa replied, half teasing half serious. 

“Deal.” Jay nodded, sending her a smile as they pulled into the lot. Jay helped her carry the box up into the apartment and then ceremoniously handed her the keys. “Take good care of it, it’s been through a lot.” Jay feigned emotion and pretended to wipe away a tear. 

“You’re a dork Halstead, but thank you.” Vanessa surprised him by suddenly stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his torso. Once he recovered he returned the gesture. “It’s the first time I’ve ever had my own place.” She told him shyly and he found her endearing. 

“Well I’ll leave you too it then. Have a good night Rojas.” He turned and shut the door behind him, unable to fight the smile on his face. He could see why Hailey liked her so much, there was something special about her. He jogged back down to his truck and quickly raced back home to Hailey, ready to settle into this new part of his life. 

                                      ****  (Months later) ****

“Hey mama!” Adam hollered as Hailey clambered the last step leading into the bullpen. Hailey huffed at his excitement and walked, or more so waddled, over to her desk. 

“Good morning Adam.” She said as she passed his desk. Jay bounded up the stairs after her, having dropped her off at the front door before going to park his truck in the lot. 

“Looking huge lady.” Kevin said, earning an immediate smack on the back of his head from Vanessa. “But still as beautiful as ever. Killin it mama.” He tried to recover, sending her an exaggerated wink. Hailey rolled her eyes but let him off with a chuckle. She plopped into her chair, letting out a huff of air as she hit the seat. 

“How much longer are you going to tough this whole work thing out?” Adam asked, nodding towards her protruding bump. At almost eight months pregnant Hailey’s stomach was more than noticeable, sticking out massively from her small frame. As soon as the words left Adams mouth, Jay was shaking his head behind her frantically, letting Adam know to late that it was a touchy subject. 

“As long as I please, thanks.” Hailey replied curtly, spinning to face her computer and effectively ending the conversation. Adam raised his eyebrows, meeting Jay’s look before shifting his attention back to his work. Jay settled into his desk and they all went about their morning. 

A few hours had passed, Hailey perched at her desk the entire time, working away at her suspiciously easy list Platt had left her. The tasks were getting easier and easier as the weeks went on and Hailey was sure Trudy was just trying to be nice. She glanced up to see Jay making his way towards her, a small bag of chips in hand. She smiled, happily taking them from him and pulling them open. 

“You should take a break, you’ve been sitting here all morning.” Jay smiled down at her, gently rubbing a shoulder. 

“I’ve been sitting all morning, how much of a break could I need?” Hailey replied teasingly. “I do have to pee though...” She chuckled, her frequent trips to the bathroom becoming a running joke between the two.

“You? Never!” Jay played along, earning another laugh. He reached his hand down to help her up, despite her brief look of protest she took his hand. When Jay pulled her up, Hailey felt the room sway and immediately leaned into him. “Hey you okay?” Jay asked, sounding concerned. 

“Yeah I’m...I’m good.” She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her head. “Just really dizzy all of a sudden.”

“Here, sit back down.” Jay gently guided her back into the chair and then knelt before her. “Should we take you to Med?” 

“No Jay, I’m fine. Just stood up to fast.” Hailey tried to reassure him but she knew he wasn’t convinced. 

“Hailey you’re really pale..” He pushed, looking more worried by the second. Hailey looked around the bull pen, thankful that everyone else was out on something and her and Jay were alone. The last thing she wanted was more attention from her coworkers over being pregnant. 

“I’m fine Jay.” She looked up at him with pursed lips. “I am kinda nauseous though.” She told him weekly. 

“Do you want a cool rag for your face?” Jay stood as she nodded and hurried to the break room. When he returned, Hailey was bent over, elbows resting on her knees with her head in her hands. Jay knelt again, handing her the rag and then reaching one hand up to rub her back. “I really think we should go get you checked out. You look awful.” 

“Gee, thanks.” Hailey mumbled against the rag. 

“You know what I meant.” Jay replied, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“Yeah.” Hailey gave him a weak smile, the room around her still spinning. “Maybe going to Med wouldn’t be the worst idea, just in case.” 

“Agreed.” Jay stood back up, taking a hold of her arm and bringing her into a standing position. Her head instantly came to rest against his chest and her hands gripped his shirt, trying to steady herself. He kept a firm hold on her arms, making sure she stayed upright. Carefully, she lifted her head back up, a grimace on her face. 

“I need to go to the bathroom first.” She told him sheepishly. Jay turned them both and slowly helped her pad down the hall to the locker rooms. He led her all the way up to the stall, letting go when she gently shrugged out of his grip. He didn’t follow her in but lingered right by the stall door she had left open, just to be safe. Once she was done, he helped her stand back up and then they walked over to the sink where she quickly washed her hands. Hailey gripped the basin of the sink, face paling once again as she felt the room spin. Her stomach lurched and before she could realize what was happening she was sick into the sink. Jay rubbed her back with one hand, holding her hair back with the other. “Sorry.” She croaked out once she was done. Jay handed her some paper towels, his concerned eyes never leaving hers. 

“Don’t be, let’s just get you to Med.” Jay placed a gentle kiss on her temple. Once Hailey was almost certain she wasn’t going to be sick again, she let Jay lead her out of the locker room and towards his truck outside, his hands never leaving her body. Jay secured her into the passengers seat and quickly jogged around the front of the truck to the drivers side. On the outside, he appeared calm as he raced them to the hospital. But on the inside, Hailey knew he was freaking out. Both over her apparent ailment and the fact that he hated hospitals. They arrived, Jay parking the truck as close as he could to the entrance after she had refused to be dropped off and they slowly made their way inside. Hailey checked in and was instantly rushed up to the obstetrics ward after the nurse took one look at her pale appearance. The next hour was a whirl wind of commotion as nurses and doctors came in and out of her room, one hooking her up to an IV, another checking her blood pressure and looking concerned with the results, and yet another placing a monitor over her stomach to check on the baby’s well being. Finally, things settled down a little and now it was just Hailey and Jay in the room. He sat beside her bed in the chair and held her hand, gently stroking the back of it. 

“Thanks for being here.” Hailey looked over to him with a somber smile. 

“Of course!” Jay exclaimed, looking like there is no where else he would rather be. 

“I know you hate it...” She pursed her lips slightly, holding his gaze. 

“Don’t worry about me Hails, I’m here for whatever you need.” Jay dipped down and placed a soft kiss on her hand, just below the IV taped to her wrist. 

“You didn’t faint when they put that in, so that’s a plus.” Hailey teased, wiggling her wrist slightly in front of him. 

“I’m not that bad...” Jay scoffed, but quickly smiled because they both knew better. A soft knock on the door ended their conversation as a doctor came into the room. 

“Okay Miss Upton, I have a few results to go over with you.” He said, giving them each a quick smile. “First, baby is totally fine and appears to be happy and healthy in there. He’s got a few more weeks to cook so that’s where we need him to stay.” Hailey and Jay shared a look, both feeling relieved with his words. “You on the other hand, have developed high blood pressure, or the more technical term, pre-eclampsia. It’s not totally uncommon, but it is something that can cause more serious issues if it isn’t addressed properly. Luckily, you got here quickly and we were able to get it under control. Unfortunately, once an attack like this occurs it can likely happen again. So I’d like to put you on bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy. Not saying you’ll actually need to stay in bed the entire time, but more of a warning to take things very easy. No heavy lifting, certainly no exercise, and no work.” As he finished his statement, Hailey’s heart sunk slightly at the thought of being stuck at home alone and unable to do anything. Jay gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and a look that said he would help her through it. Hailey nodded in agreement with what the doctor had said and after reviewing a few more results, he told them they could go home. Once he was gone, Hailey let out a sigh, fighting back her emotions. 

“Hey, I know this sucks. But it’ll be okay.” Jay tried to comfort her but the only response he received was a small nod. He helped her get dressed and then they headed out of the room, checking out quickly before walking to his truck. Hailey clambered up into the seat, brushing off his assistance and Jay made his way to the driver side. He shut the door and then looked over at her, his heart breaking when he saw the silent tears streaming down her face. He tossed the keys on the dash and scooted over to her, pulling Hailey into his arms as her tears turned into sobs. 

“I know..it’s stupid...to be this upset...” Hailey choked out between sobs, wiping at the tears running down her face. “But I just...I don’t want to sit at home alone...”

“It’s not stupid Hailey. And I promise you, you won’t be alone. I’ll tell Voight I need the time off.” He said, kissing the top of her head and rubbing up and down her arm. 

“You don’t have to do that Jay..I’ll survive.” Hailey let out a shaky breath, regaining control of her emotions. 

“I can though. Just say the word and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” Jay squeezed her tightly, hating that she was this upset. 

“I know. It’ll be okay.” Hailey said, unsure if she was telling Jay or herself. 

“I love you.” Jay said, tilting her head up and planting a kiss against her lips. 

“I love you too.” She mumbled, returning his kiss. 

******

Hailey had spent, what felt like like, the longest week ever at home. The first day, she forced herself out of bed and into the shower. Deciding that even though she had no where to go, she might as well get herself ready for the day. After that though, she had spent the remainder of the day on the couch, watching Netflix until Jay had gotten home from work. The second day, Hailey attempted to be more productive and started by making herself a to do list of all the things that needed to be accomplished before their baby arrived. It was surprisingly long and Hailey felt overwhelmed as she added more and more items to the list. Platt’s lists paled in comparison to this one. She decided to start small and headed up to the room they had began converting into a nursery. Jay and Adam had spent a weekend hauling all of the furniture out of the room and preparing the walls to paint. As she stood in the doorway, taking in the empty room with it’s new, freshly painted light grey walls, she rubbed her belly and felt a smile creep onto her face. The boxes containing the crib, dresser and changing table, all yet to be assembled, laid in the middle of the floor. She started with the smallest box, which was the changing table, and pulled the pieces out one by one. The instructions didn’t seem to bad and she figured she could have it done in less than an hour. Three hours later, Jay returned home, Vanessa and Kevin in tow, along with two large pizza’s from Bartoli’s. The trio headed up the stairs and all stopped at the sight in the bedroom before them. Hailey sat in the middle of the floor, looking more that frazzled with her hair a mess, and tightening the last screw on the new changing table. Jay cleared his throat and Hailey’s head whipped around, smiling when she saw the group in the doorway. 

“I figured you’d be up here.” Jay smiled, recalling the picture of the to do list she had sent him earlier. “So I thought I’d bring some back up and some food.”

“My hero.” Hailey smiled, lighting up at the sight of the pizza boxes. “My hero’s, I should say. Didn’t you say you were a master at putting cribs together?” Hailey asked, looking towards Kevin. 

“You know it.” Kevin replied, rubbing his hands together and stepping in the room to get to work. By the time Hailey had finished her second slice of pizza, Kevin had almost the whole crib assembled. 

“Impressive.” Hailey smiled, taking in the new piece of furniture. Jay scoffed from his corner of the room where he was still figuring out the pieces of the dresser he had been tasked with assembling. 

“He’s good with his hands.” Vanessa mumbled, causing Hailey to choke on the sip of water she was taking. Her eyes bugged out as she looked towards the younger woman, receiving a shrug and a smirk that said, I’ll tell you later. Kevin moved over to help Jay finish his assembly as Vanessa scrolled through page after page of nursery decor items or baby clothes, excitedly showing Hailey each time she found something cute. Hailey smiled at the sight before her and was thankful for the makeshift family surrounding her. After another hour, all the furniture was put together and the four of them stood in the center of the room, taking it all in. Vanessa had informed Hailey she had tomorrow off and eventually talked her in to a shopping trip for decor and baby clothes, promising Jay they would take it easy and rest whenever Hailey needed. Hailey begrudgingly agreed, knowing she wasn’t going to win the battle anyway. After Kevin and Vanessa left, suspiciously together, a fact Hailey would be bringing up tomorrow, Jay stood in the entryway and drew her into a hug. 

“So, how far did you get on the list?” He asked, resting his chin on top of her head. 

“Ummm...I almost got number one done, which was assemble the furniture...” Hailey chucked against him. 

“In your defense, that stuff was impossible to get together. I swear they made it harder just because it’s for tiny people.” Jay shook his head, earning another laugh from Hailey. “What’s next?

“I think it was to get our hospital bags together, but Vanessa pointed out I can’t do that yet since we don’t have any clothes for him...” Hailey rubbed her belly and gave Jay a sheepish look. 

“I follow you. Well I think number two said that you need to relax after a long day of manual labor.” Jay grinned at her, an idea quickly forming in his head. 

“What did you have in mind Halstead?” Hailey quipped, tilting her head in question. 

“Maybe..a warm bath..some candles..a back rub?” Jay stepped closer, placing his hands on her hips and closing the distance between them.

“That sounds amazing.” Hailey smiled, biting her bottom lip and watching Jay’s eyes darken at the sight. 

“Good, follow me.” Jay took her hand and gently tugged her to follow him up the stairs, leading her to the bedroom where he instructed her to set on her bed. Jay dipped into her bathroom, turning on the tub faucet and lighting her array of candles before returning to her in the bedroom. He helped her to stand up, placing a soft kiss against her lips as his hands made their way to the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her belly and then up and over her head. His hands rested against her waist and he gave her another quick kiss, running his hands up her sides before snaking them around to unclasp her bra. Hailey reached her hands up to rest on his shoulders, pulling him down so she could give him a proper kiss. As their mouths worked against each other, Hailey let out a soft moan and Jay took advantage of her open mouth to dart his tongue in, eliciting another moan from her lips. He pulled back with a grin on his face as Hailey pouted at the lack of contact. 

“You’re not relaxing...” He whispered, kneeling down in front of her to pull down her pants, tugging her underwear down slowly before helping her step out of the clothing. 

“You’re not helping...” She replied, tugging him back to meet her lips as he stood. Hailey reached down, undoing his zipper and pushing his jeans down. Jay pulled back again to look at her, his eyes filled with lust.  “Join me?” She asked, nodding towards the bathroom. Jay nodded and they walked into the other room. Jay helped her lower down into the water before stripping off the rest of his clothes and sliding in behind her. Hailey leaned back against his chest, rubbing gentle circles across her large abdomen as Jay moved his lips up and down her neck. His hands came up to her shoulders, pushing her to sit back up and then starting to rub them with expert hands. Hailey melted into his touch, arching slightly as his hands traveled lower, working the tight muscles of her back. Hailey gripped his thighs, resting on either side of her under the water, as he made his way down to her lower back. His mouth returned to her neck then, trailing lazy kisses under her earlobe and causing her to shiver. 

“Jay...” She breathed out when he nipped softly at the spot that always drove her wild. He slid one hand around to her chest, working her breast with his palm. Hailey moaned as he teased her hardened nipples between his fingers. His other hand moved down between her legs in the water, dancing around the spot she needed him the most. Hailey leaned back into him, feeling his growing excitement pressing into her back. Jay’s fingers found her core then and he entered her tantalizing slow. His mouth still nipped at her sensitive skin and Hailey was already close even though she knew he was trying to take this slow. “Jay..please...” She pleaded, needing the release he was teasing her with. At her words, Jay picked up the pace of his fingers, angling his palm to rub against her sensitive bundle of nerves. His other hand was still working her breast and she could feel her walls begin to tremble. 

“Are you ready?” Jay asked, already knowing the answer. Hailey couldn’t speak through the pleasure coursing over her body so she frantically nodded against him. Jay nipped at her neck again and it was enough to send her over the edge. She arched above him as her orgasm crashed into her, crying out his name as her walls shook around his fingers. He continued to pump into her, letting her ride out her orgasm, before finally slowing as she came back down. He kissed her neck, dipping forward to trail kisses along her jawline as she settled against him, her ragged breathing slowly evening out. Hailey reached her hand back to rub the back of his head lovingly. 

“I owe you.” She teased, eyes heavy and lips forming a small smile. 

“I’m only focused on you tonight. You’re beautiful Hailey.” Jay mumbled against her skin. 

“Let’s move this to the bed.” Hailey whispered, craving more of his body. Jay nodded and gently pushed her up so that she was sitting. He stood and stepped out of the tub, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist, barely concealing his excitement. He reached his hands down to help her stand and step out onto the rug. Next, Jay grabbed the other towel and began drying her off slowly, his lips trailing over the skin after the towel was done. He started with her arms, shifting down and across her chest. Hailey arched into him as his quickly sucked on her sensitive nipple. He padded the towel over her belly, kissing all the way down until he knelt before her. Hailey gripped his shoulders to steady herself as he dried one leg off, kissing the soft skin of her thigh before giving the same attention to her other leg. Once he was satisfied that she was dry enough, he stood and led her into the bedroom. Hailey sat on the bed, scooting back and then laying down on her back, stretching her hands out for him to join her. Jay’s eyes traveled up and down her body, a smile forming as he took in every inch. He came to the edge of the bed between her legs, leaning down to kiss her softly before pulling away once again, still hovering over her. 

“You’re beautiful.” He said again, moving down to kiss her collarbone. His mouth moved south, once again working the sensitive skin of her breast. He trailed kisses down her protruding belly before kneeling in front of her. Jay gripped her legs, sliding them apart and working his mouth from her knee to the part of her leg that met her hip bone, repeating his ministrations on the other leg before placing one soft kiss against her core. Hailey’s hips bucked up at the contact and she gripped at the sheets, knowing what was coming next. Jay’s tongue gave one long lick from her aching core up to her bundle of nerves, lapping at the wetness that had gathered there. His mouth closed around her bundle of nerves, sucking gently while flicking his tongue across her throbbing clit. Jay slid one, and then two fingers into her aching heat and she was quickly arching on the bed above him. Hailey breathed out his name, again and again, as he worked his magic, bringing her impossible close to the edge. 

“Ah...Jay...” She exclaimed as he sent her crashing over the edge once again. Once he was done swallowing her gush of arousal, he kissed his way back up her body, Hailey moaning when their mouths met and she could taste herself. She reached down, grasping his hardened member and working the tip with her palm. Jay’s hand covered hers, slowing her movements. 

“It won’t take much...” He sheepishly admitted, dipping down to kiss her again. Jay motioned for her to scoot back on the bed, allowing him to climb on as well. Her belly made certain positions impossible but they had managed to get the angle down as her stomach had grown. Hailey moved all the way back on the bed and Jay grabbed a pillow, expertly sliding it under her hips. On his knees, Jay shifted to come between her legs, gripping her thighs in his hands and lining himself up with her core. Hailey looked up at him, lower lip clamped tightly between her teeth as he slid into her. Jay’s full length entered her warm and they both moaned at the contact. He started slow, letting her adjust to his length but soon she was begging for more. He thrust into her, his own orgasm almost there. When he knew she was getting close, he brought his thumb to tease her bundle of nerves and watched as she arched below him, her orgasm hitting her quickly. A few more flicks of his hips and Jay exploded into her as her walls quivered around him. 

After they separated, Jay lay beside Hailey, trailing his fingers up and down her side as she curled into him. 

“That wasn’t very relaxing.” He teased, causing her to chuckle against him.

“It was perfect.” She whispered. Eyes shut but a smile on her face. “This whole staying home thing won’t be so bad if you come home and do that every night.” 

“Your wish is my command.” He said, earning a wholehearted laugh from her. 

“Good night Jay” She told him, stifling a yawn. 

“Good night Hailey.” He kissed the top of her head and felt her quickly drift off to sleep. 

[skepticalcatfrog]

Among The Stars Chapter 6

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Summary: Logan Watts is a famous scientist, known by almost everyone in the galaxy. His most famous invention is his friend and assistant, a healthcare android named Patton. When they are called to another planet for a meeting with the local ruler, they're expecting a completely normal trip. Little did they know, this trip would send them into a daring adventure to protect their galaxy and stop a war. Teamed up with unlikely friends, including a runaway gladiator and an infamous crime trio, Logan and Patton have to figure out how to make peace and save their universe (and beyond) from being destroyed.

Pairings: (Eventual) Logicality, Prinxiety, and Demus

Word count: 3,072

Author's Notes: So, I've finally made a loose schedule for posting chapters of my two fics. I'm going to go back and forth between the two, so I'll post a chapter of one, then a chapter of the other. Hopefully that works, because it's all I can come up with.

Logan sat in the pilot's chair of the ship with the rest of the group crowded around him. They'd gone right to the control room after getting the news that they'd have to prepare for a month long trip, but Logan wasn't used to having so many people around him while he worked. And his stress wasn't helped by the fact that the hyperspeed mechanism on the ship was apparently broken.

"What do you mean you can't get it to work?" Dalton approached the screen that was currently being overtaken by a red warning and tried to touch it, but his hand went right through.

"Exactly that. It appears to be malfunctioning for some reason." Logan deadpanned, the red light reflecting on his glasses. "Oh, and it isn't a touch screen."

Dalton scowled and trudged back to the rest of the group behind the chair. "Yeah, I noticed. Thanks captain obvious."

"Maybe if we just…" Remus walked up to the metal box powering the screen and gave it a swift kick. The screen glitched out for a moment, but nothing else changed.

"How about, before we go breaking Logan's equipment, we try to think of another plan?" Patton suggested.

"I agree with Patton." Roman stood in front of the screen, then turned around to face the rest of the group. "We obviously can't use whatever that thing is, so what's our next step?"

"Who died and made you group leader?" Dalton raised an eyebrow.

"I did." Roman crossed his arms.

"Congratulations, that actually makes zero sense." Dalton gave a sarcastic round of applause. "Do you think about the things you say before you say them?"

"Give him a break Dalton, at least he's trying." Virgil frowned.

"Yeah, at least I'm trying!" Roman nodded. "I like him, he agrees with me. Thank you… Vincent."

"Nope." Virgil shook his head.

"Victor?" Roman raised an eyebrow. Virgil shook his head again. "...Virginia."

"Just- just stop trying, it's getting depressing." Virgil held up his hand. "My name is Virgil."

"Virgil, got it." Roman gave him a thumbs up. Virgil returned the gesture.

"Wha- Why are you defending him? He doesn't even know your name!" Dalton gestured to Roman.

"Plus he's annoying." Remus stuck out his tongue and gave a thumbs down.

"Well geez, rip me to shreds why don't you!" Roman pouted. "At least give me a chance, I'm not the criminal in the room."

"Are you asking me to fight you right now? Because I'll do it, and I won't show mercy." Dalton started to walk towards him, but Virgil grabbed his arm before he could get far.

"Yeah, right. You're like, five inches shorter than me." Roman scoffed. "Plus I'm a trained fighter."

"Okay, I know you didn't just go there!" Dalton attempted to break free of Virgil's grip.

Suddenly, everything exploded into a full-on yelling match. Dalton and Remus were being restrained by Virgil as they both shouted insults at Roman, who was throwing insults back relentlessly. Logan's jaw was clenched as he tried his best to focus on fixing the ship and not the chaos unfolding around him. Patton was plugging his ears. At least, he was for a little while. Until it all became too much.

"ENOUGH!" Patton's voice rang out through the bickering. Everyone froze and looked at him. "We can't be arguing like this! If we ever want to get anything done, we have to be able to work together! And that means no more fighting, no more yelling, and no more being control freaks. Now, we need to figure out a way to get to Illathea. Anyone have any ideas?"

"Thank you Patton, for that helpful intervention." Logan said, still focused on the screen in front of him. "I've deduced that the hyperspeed mechanism is, in fact, broken. Which means that we'll have to get there manually."

"So what you're saying is, we'll still have to go on a 21 day trip that none of us signed up for?" Dalton gestured to the rest of the group.

"Yes, that is precisely what I'm saying. And if any of you have an issue with that, you are free to throw yourselves into the endless void of space. There is an exit down the hall." Logan deadpanned.

"I volunteer Roman. We need to sacrifice someone, so it might as well be him." Remus muttered, so only Dalton could hear him. Dalton tried and failed to hold back a laugh.

"I have a feeling… that they're talking about me." Roman pointed to the two.

"So what if we are?" Dalton smiled, but not in a nice way. More in the way that you'd smile at a coworker who was being annoying.

"Oh, yeah, we definitely were." Remus nodded shamelessly. "I was just talking about how I want to throw you into space to see what would happen. Y'know, for science."

"Okay, I can't deal with this right now." Roman turned to Logan. "Are there any spare rooms on this ship? I figure that since we'll be staying here, there's got to be somewhere we can sleep."

"The floor above this one is where the guest rooms are. There's an elevator right outside, just go up one floor and pick whatever room you want." Patton told him.

"Thank you. At least not everyone on this ship hates me." Roman scowled and walked away, closing the door loudly behind him.

"And then there were five." Dalton said after Roman was gone. "At least now we can talk like adults."

"Are you serious?" Virgil asked. Whatever chatter might've been going on before, it was gone then. No one had expected him to say anything. "That was really harsh, dude. He wasn't doing anything until you decided to pick on him."

"He was acting like an ass and trying to control everyone."

"He was trying to get everyone organized! We could've avoided that whole argument if you hadn't started it." Virgil shot back. He nudged Dalton out of the way and began walking towards the door. "I'm going to talk to him."

"Virgil-" Dalton started to protest, but it was no use. He was already gone.

Logan broke the awkward silence. "Well, two of us have already left. The rest of you might as well do the same. Except for you Patton, I'd prefer it if you stayed."

"Fine. Whatever. I don't even want to be here anyway." Dalton stormed off. But he wasn't planning on finding a room. No, he had another stop to make first.

~~~

Roman was lying on the plain white bed in the room that he'd claimed, with his feet propped up on the wall. Just thinking. What had he done to them? He didn't know anyone on the ship, so it wasn't like it could be some sort of grudge. He just wanted them to like him. Clearly the group needed a leader to keep them on task, and he wanted to be that person. After a lifetime of being injured and pushed around, he didn't think he deserved to deal with that any longer. Unfortunately, it seemed like he was going to be the one everyone picked on. Fun.

He was brought back to reality by a knock on the door. He glanced at it for a second, then went back to staring at the ceiling. "It's open, but I'll warn you now, I'm not in the mood to be laughed at anymore."

"It's… it's just me." Virgil said sheepishly as he entered the room. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. I told Dalton he was being too harsh."

"Good, because he was." Roman shifted into a sitting position. "Why do you even hang around them? You're nice, and they're… not."

"They're good people once you get to know them, I promise." Virgil smiled. "They were like a family to me, ever since we met. The first family I'd ever had."

"What happened to you before you met them?" Roman asked, leaning forward a little. "If you're comfortable talking about it, that is."

"No, it's fine." Virgil's eyes got distant, as if he was trying to recall something from deep in his memory. "I was a prototype of a certain kind of android, sort of like risk analysts. I was supposed to be able to figure out every outcome of any given situation, no matter what. But I had a glitch. No one knew how it got there, but it affected the rest of my coding, basically making it impossible for me to see the glass half full. It wasn't fixable, so the inventors decided the next right thing would be to get rid of me. They dropped me on a planet that they thought had no one on it, and left me there to rust."

"That's awful. No one deserves that." Roman shook his head. "I personally think that glitch gives you character."

"Then I definitely have a lot of character. I don't even have a standard power source. My heart is a clock, and it wasn't even installed right." Virgil sighed.

"Wait, sorry if this is weird, but does it tick? Like, can you hear it?" Roman asked.

Virgil shrugged. "I don't know. If it does, I can't hear it in my head."

Roman reflexively brought his ear to Virgil's chest, listening for the ticking. Virgil tensed up a little. The action had been a surprise, but not necessarily an unwelcome one. He could only think of one thing to say.

"It's on the other side."

"What?"

"My heart, it's on the other side. As I said before, it wasn't installed right, so it's on the wrong side of my body."

"Oh, okay." Roman moved over a little, and sure enough, he could hear a steady tick, tick, tick. He noticed that it was quickly accelerating. He leaned back again. "It's going pretty fast. I might get that checked out if I were you."

"I'm sure it's fine." Virgil replied quickly. "It's probably just settling in to some of the repairs."

"Okay, sure." Roman crossed his legs. "So, based on what you told me before, it sounds like you don't get out much. How many places have you been to?"

"For long periods of time, only three. Including this ship." Virgil glanced at the ground, smiling wistfully. "I've always wanted to go somewhere fun. Like a big city, or a kingdom or something."

"I'm sure you could, one day." Roman smiled.

"Wait, you're royalty, right?" Virgil looked up and met his eyes.

"Yeah, I am." Roman lied. He knew that there was no way this conversation could end well for anyone, but he couldn't just crush Virgil's dream like that. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about it made telling the truth impossible.

"Then maybe you could take me to your kingdom! When all of this is over, we could go see the castle together, and I could meet all the people, and I could… I don't know, hold a sword or something!" Virgil was practically beaming.

"That sounds amazing." Roman nodded. "One day, I promise, I'll give you the grand tour. You can count on that."

Through that entire conversation, they were subconsciously leaning towards each other, until they were barely inches apart. Virgil suddenly became very aware of the closeness, and immediately stood up.

"I should… I should go." He went to the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob for a moment. "I'll see you later."

"See you." Roman waved. He was a little bit confused at the abrupt exit, but he didn't mention it. "Hopefully Dalton will be a bit more friendly tomorrow."

"Hopefully, yeah." Virgil laughed. And just like that, he was gone.

Roman had made a promise that he knew he wouldn't be able to keep. He wasn't royalty, he barely knew about any kingdoms in the entire galaxy. He wouldn't be able to tour any castles. He wouldn't be able to make Virgil's dream come true. In short... what had he done?

~~~

Dalton sat down at one of the computers in Logan's lab, typing as fast as he could. He'd made sure that no one had followed him inside, because this was something he wanted to do alone. He was going to find blackmail. Specifically, on Roman. He needed to prove to Virgil that that guy wasn't so great after all.

He didn't know Roman's last name, so he just looked up a list of famous people named Roman, since he figured he'd be on that list. The first one he found had pictures to go along with the people, which made his job much easier. He scrolled through the list for a little while. Then his eyes landed on someone familiar. 'Roman Northbrook'. He looked up the name, and was met with multiple shocking articles. One in particular stood out to him, seeing as it was exactly the kind of thing he was looking for.

'A gladiator (Roman Northbrook, pictured above) has escaped from Xialea VII. He is dangerous and armed with a weapon. If you see him, we encourage you to contact your local authorities.'

"Holy crap." Dalton muttered as he read the article. Not only was Roman annoying beyond redemption, but he was also a fugitive! And to think, he was judging Remus and Dalton for being criminals when he was one himself. How ironic.

Dalton slid backwards in his chair and got up, making a beeline for the elevator. He went up one floor. There was only one hallway, which was good for navigation purposes. But there were also about a hundred rooms on each side. He didn't let that discourage him though. He was going to figure out which room was Roman's, no matter how long it took him.

It didn't end up taking too long, actually. It was pretty simple. Roman's room was the only one with lights on, because Remus didn't use them and Virgil didn't need them. Dalton stood next to the door, with his back against the wall. He knew Roman would have to come out eventually, and he would wait for when he did.

Occasionally, Dalton would put his ear to the wall, trying to hear for any talking from inside. It was silent the whole time. Was it possible that Roman was already asleep? It wasn't necessarily early. Just as Dalton was about to give up, the door opened, and Roman stepped out. Dalton was quick to react. He grabbed Roman's wrist and spun him around, pinning him to the wall and holding him there at arm's length.

"We need to have a talk about a little thing called 'lying'." Dalton glared at him, and delighted in seeing the sudden fear in Roman's face.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Roman's eyes darted, and it was clear that he was trying not to look at the person in front of him.

"Oh, I'm sure you do." Dalton smirked. "I definitely know what I'm talking about. And I also know something about you, and who you actually are."

"How did you find out?" Roman seemed a little less anxious, as if he'd finally come to terms with the situation.

"A quick search on the computer and all the reports were right in front of me." Dalton let go of Roman. "It was easy, really. And now I know that you're just as bad as I am."

"Let me guess." Roman crossed his arms. "You're going to tell everyone, and get them to turn me in? There's probably a reward, no doubt you'd want it."

"No, I don't think I'm going to." Dalton pretended to think for a moment. "I think what I'll do is hold this above your head, so you don't get to do whatever you want. Also, before I forget, don't hang around Virgil anymore. I feel like you're a bad influence on him."

"You think I'm the bad influence?" Roman laughed. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

"You know, on second thought, maybe the best thing to do would be to tell them…" Dalton muttered.

"No!" Roman replied frantically. He was really caught between a rock and a hard place. "Listen, just… keep things quiet, okay? This is my chance to get away from my old life, and completely reinvent myself. I don't need you ruining it for me."

Dalton nodded. "Sure. I'll stay out of your way, as long as you agree to my conditions."

Roman hesitated. He wasn't sure this was the best idea, but there wasn't really any other way. "Fine. Now get out of my way, I'm tired of looking at you."

Dalton stepped aside, and Roman went back to his room. Once the door was closed, Dalton picked a place of his own. Conveniently, it was the one right across from Roman's. He entered the room and closed the door behind him, making sure to lock it before doing anything else. Not for any reason, he was just used to locked doors.

His first and only observation about the room was how boring it was. The bed was plain white, the floor was gray, and the walls were silver. And that was it. There wasn't anything else in the entire room. He definitely preferred the cavern from the other planet. It had character, plus he'd been living there for years. This place just felt… wrong.

He sat down on the bed, thinking about what he'd just done. He honestly hadn't expected it to work, but it did. Now he could simultaneously keep Virgil safe and keep Roman in check. It was like, the second happiest he'd ever been. Number one would of course be when Virgil was repaired, but that wasn't the point. The point was that in Dalton's eyes, he and Roman were competing. And currently, he was winning.

Roman, on the other hand, was scared out of his mind. He was pacing back and forth in the middle of his room, making an escape plan for the event that Dalton decided he wasn't worth keeping around. There had to be escape pods, right? Right? He had newfound experience in stealing ships, he could just take one of those and get as far away as possible. He abruptly stopped pacing and dropped to the ground, leaning against the wall. For the first time in a while, he was genuinely terrified. He was losing whatever messed up kind of battle he was in. And the price of defeat could be his life.

Taglist: @idkwhyimhere0o0 @icequeenoriginal @mostpeopleannoyne @007ardra @logan-is-my-spirit-animal @multifandomnightmare

[ddaengyoonmin]

Chapter 2

Pairing: Jungkook x reader, eventual Ot7 x reader in later chapters

Genre: fluff, angst, uhh maybe smut eventually??

Theme: Based kinda on sword art online a lot of similar ideas and themes kinda combining the idea of them trapped in the game, but the world is closer to ALFheim online

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Swearing?..I swear a lot it can’t be contained.

Next --> Chapter 3

-------------------------------------------

-“But this isn’t the real world...this is my world” He pulled away, a smirk on his face. Your eyes widened.  What were you getting yourself into…-

“What the hell does that mean” You laughed trying to hide the nervousness flooding over your body at his closeness.

He shrugged and laughed, returning to his previous demeanor quickly.

“I just mean to say that...I think you’ll find I’m quite... skilled, when it comes to this kind of thing”

‘He’s such a flirt’ you thought.

You couldn’t deny to yourself that you were most definitely falling for it though.  The last man you’d felt this type of attraction toward was years ago in your freshman year of college, it was brief and fleeting, and this felt stronger.  

You’d never had a boyfriend, you didn’t see the point. Getting straight A’s in high school kept you busy and then College, and now your job.  You thought you were completely content with that being your life.

So this feeling was new, and baffling to you.  You’d barely just met this man and you already felt like you have to get to know more about him.

“So...Kookie? I call you that right?” You said pointing to the screen to his left.

He nodded and pointed to yours, “Velvet Tiger huh??”

“It’s actually a combination of my cats names” you admitted and blushed.

He nodded slowly with a look you couldn’t quite read. Something close to amusement possibly? He must think you’re a dork, or worse, already assumes you are a crazy cat lady just like your family does.

“So, why didn’t you use a spell to fight off the bees? Wouldn’t that have been better than running like a dog with its tail between its legs? You are in a game with magic you know” he states.

“Spell?”

He groaned and rolled his eyes, “Jesus christ, did you read the manual on this game? Or ever look up anything about it before diving in?”

You shook your head looking down at your feet.

He sighed, “So we are really starting from square one here huh?”

He ran his fingers through his hair again.  It seemed to be a habit of his, and you were becoming quite fond of it.

“So...basics of spells is probably a good place to start” he said and moved close to your side so he was standing facing your holographic screen.  He pointed to the menu button.  “Touch your finger to that”

You did as he said, a new page opened up ‘Spells, Items, Skills, Spell Store, Achievements, Settings, Log out’ were all listed on the screen.

“Everyone starts out with a couple basic spells depending on the fairy race they selected.  Shadow fairies like me get ‘Shadow ball’ for a fighting spell and ‘Quiet feet’ as an illusion spell, my race specializes in sneak skills, illusion magic and night vision”

He motions for you to click your finger to the word ‘spells’ on your screen.

Again you are taken to a new page with two spells listed, ‘Squirt Gun’ and ‘Novice Healing’.

“If you select one of the two of those it’ll be your default spell”

He continued on, showing you different tips and tricks, for how to use your spells and how to level up different skills by using them frequently.

He taught you about the five races of fairies when you admitted you had only just skimmed over the info on them and just tried to pick the one you thought looked the coolest.  That earned a laugh and some teasing from him.  

There were ‘fire fairies’ who specialized in (obviously) fire magic, and they were the strongest but also the slowest.  

Next were ‘hybrid fairies’ with either the ears and tail of a wolf, cat, rabbit, or fox depending on what the game auto picked for you in the character room.

(You now slightly remembered seeing fox ears on yourself on one of your options you had scrolled through…) They specialized in animal taming and controlling spells, and had excellent long distance eye sight.

 Lastly there were the Sylph fairies, who were skilled at wind spells, and music spells that could enchant, stun, or temporarily confuse and disorient opponents. They were also the fastest.

Most of the info he continued to spill out went right over your head, but he was so cute talking about it so you couldn’t bear to admit you only were taking in about 90% of this info.  You could tell that he was a huge gaming fanatic.

 You would’ve never seen yourself being attracted to someone with such an impractical hobby, but here you were, in the game with him, grinning widely and nodding along as he talked about this fantasy world you were both sitting in.

Finally, after much explaining he excitedly grabbed your hand dragging you to the treeline that you were previously headed to in your frantic escape from killer bees.

You take note of how soft his hand feels holding yours, then remind yourself that this is just a game.  Who knows what his hands feel like in real life...or if you’d ever even meet in real life.  That thought made your heart sink a bit, but, you were going to do your best enjoy your time with him in this world (‘his world’ as he said) as much as you could.

“Time to take everything I explained and put it into action” He grinned as he continued to pull you into the forest.

You spent the next few hours fighting various in-game creatures. The freakiest being a four foot tall rabbit with giant fangs you nearly fainted upon seeing.

You conquered some fears and slightly got the hang of how to use the Squirt gun spell to shoot water from your fingertips to cause damage.

By the end of all of your “beginners lessons” as Kookie called it, you had leveled up from level 1 to level 4 and Kookie had leveled up from his previous level 10 to 12, explaining that it was easier to level up at the beginning and gets harder as you go on.  

You also were surprised to see after each defeated beast a small amount of ‘coin’ showed up in the corner of your screen.  

‘Dammit’ you thought as you shook your head ‘mom was right, I’m having fun, and I made a friend’ you contemplated downplaying your fantastic adventure you had today when she called you late tonight (as she said she would)  just so you didn’t have to hear her smug “I told you so”

Kookie laid out on the ground, relaxed and propped up on his elbows, one leg slightly crossing over the other.  He smiled as he stared at his screen scrolling with one finger through the new items he’d acquired from defeating creatures with you on his first day, looking very proud of himself.  Realizing you were staring he turned his head to you “Good day huh?” he grinned ear to ear.

You took a seat next to your new friend cross legged, “Honestly? Yeah, and I really didn’t expect to, thank you...really” You can’t remember the last time you spent this much time with another person, let alone a cute guy that (you assumed?) was near your age.  

He looked quite pleased with himself upon hearing your appreciation of him, “Anytime sweetheart.” he paused “Actually... Will you be here tomorrow? We could meet up again, I still haven't taught you about in game flying!”

“Sure!” You said with more enthusiasm than you planned.

“It’s a date then” He said, bringing his hands behind his head as he relaxed staring straight up into the sky.

You blushed, ‘Date…’

You joined in and looked up too, it was the most beautiful sunset you’d ever seen in your life.  All the shades of pinks and oranges painting the sky in a way you could only have dreamed about before.

Wait...sunset?

“Holy shit, what time is it” You said in a slight panic

He chuckled “uhhh 7:00 or so I think” he sat up and double checked on his screen and then nodded.

“Yikes, I’m probably hungry as fuck...weird that I can’t feel it here, that's probably not too smart for the game makers to have ignored that”

You also had some thoughts about how salty Velvet was going to be when you got home. You half expected her to have been curled up on your lap the whole time pawing at you curiously trying to demand pets and attention from your unmoving body in the chair.  Tiger on the other hand was much like you and probably didn’t notice your absence.

Kookie shrugged, “yeah, I suppose that might cause some problems, you kinda lose track of time here, especially with good company” he smirked poking your shoulder, causing you to blush again and hold the spot he had just touched shyly.

“ I had logged out and had a big meal right before I found you, but I’m probably pretty hungry too”  he continued, and put a hand to his face in a thinking gesture,

“I’m craving….pizza!” he exclaimed pointing a finger to the air, making you giggle at his goofiness.

“See you tomorrow then!” You beamed at him “Enjoy your pizza!”

You clicked the menu button on your screen to log out, in the corner of your eye you saw Kookie was doing the same.  

“That’s weird…” you heard him say “The logout button is...gone?”

You looked to your screen, “Oh shit, mine is too!”

“Probably just first day glitches, that blows…” He shook his head “I’m sure we aren’t the first ones to notice, I bet it's been reported and they are working on it as we speak”

“Shouldn’t we report it too though? Just in case?” you looked to him “you know how to do that right?”

He nodded in agreement and went to the settings menu on his screen “For real?” He sounded irritated “The button to contact support is gone too?”

You’ve now started to worry a bit.  “Wha...what do we do?”

Just as you said that a loud sound like an alarm blared out all around you and Kookie, causing you to jump and startling some birds in a nearby bush making them flutter away to the now darkening sky.

Your screen flashed red along with Kookie’s screen.

“ALL PLAYERS REPORT TO FLOOR ONE’S MAIN TOWN SQUARE” it read in bold, urgent looking letters.

“Okay...that's probably good right? They know there's something up and they are going to gather us all together to explain” you stutter out

Kookie nodded but didn’t say anything, he didn’t feel right about this. He finally stood up and offered you his hand, you took it and got on your feet as well.

“I’ll show you the way” he said with a grin.  But something seemed off about that grin, there was some worry hidden behind it.  You didn't like this at all...

[hailqiqi]

Message Received and Misunderstood

Once a promising fighter pilot candidate with the best skin in the Garrison, Lance Serrano is now relegated to languishing in cargo training during the day and locking himself in the library at night, sacrificing his self-care for a pile of textbooks like the nerds he used to make fun of.

He doesn't even bother talking to the other late-night regulars -- the boy with the Rubik's Cube, the girl who chews her pens too loudly, or the Sadako-wannabe who's always the only other person in there at midnight.

Friends will only distract him, and he needs to study.

Rating: G

Chapter One: First Contact

4,622 words | Read on AO3

So here’s my contribution to the @planceminibang! Beta’d by the wonderful @sp4c3-0ddity and with art (Chapter 3!) from the fantastically-talented @artemisarya, here’s a little teenage sweetness that’s a bit different from my normal offerings.

Enjoy!

5TH JANUARY

 The rough calculations on the page had long since blurred together by the time his phone blinks for break time, and Lance slumps forward onto the table with a groan.

Twenty minutes. Another twenty minutes that he’s been at this stupid problem, and despite filling both sides of the page up with calculations, he’s still no closer to figuring out if a hafnium carbide vessel would survive the stress of a gravity assist off Saturn or not.

He lifts his head and glares at the paper. Two points were all that had stood between him and making fighter pilot; instead, he’s stuck in cargo training and desperately trying to pull up his grades at night because he needs an extra fifty to make it in off a retest. And despite the lack of sleep and him studying harder than he ever had in his life — even harder than he had for the entrance exams — it’s now half-way through the school year and he’s still staring down a failing grade.

All because of freaking materials science.

Maybe he should just give up. There’s no shame in being a cargo pilot, mijo, his mom had said. Cargo pilots make a steady wage — a good wage, enough to raise a family and have a lot left over. The job wasn’t as boring as it sounded, and there were still opportunities to leave the atmosphere (and while he’d been bottom of fighter, he was top of the cargo class so he’d definitely be given the space runs).

But cargo isn’t what he wants. Maybe he’s being immature, but he wants to swoop and soar and feel the world fall out from underneath him at mach speeds when he jiggles the stick. You can’t do a barrel roll in a cargo ship, even in space.

His phone flashes again and he leans back in his seat, hands over his eyes as he begins to recite the problem again.

“If the hafnium carbide heat shields are two inches thick and have a tensile strength of 14,000 psi at 2,000 degrees…”

It’s way too freaking late for this.

“And Saturn’s gravity is 10.44, and we’re travelling in a prograde direction during the assist and approach from…” This bit he can do. The miss distance, the outgoing velocity, the amount of fuel needed — he’d calculated it so many times now he can rattle the whole thing off by memory, but once he gets past the flight calculations he needs to check his notes to know what happens next. “And then…”

He glances at the paper, checks both sides, and groans again, one hand in his hair. “...And then some random amount of heat is generated and I guess the stupid shuttle explodes and everybody dies, ‘cause I’ll be a flying space cow if I know if it survives or not.”

A snort of laughter from behind makes him jump.

He whips around in his seat, heart in his throat because it’s eleven p.m., who the heck is in the library at this hour?, only to be met by a pair of laughing brown eyes half-hidden behind a curtain of equally brown hair.

Oh, yeah. Her. The only other person crazy enough to be in the library every night, even though he’s fairly sure she’s not studying for the resit since he doesn’t recognise her from any of his classes last year. In all the months they’ve shared a space they’ve barely exchanged a nod, but it looks like that’s about to change because she’s actually speaking to him.

“I’m sorry,” the girl is saying, mirth still flowing in her tone and not looking sorry in the slightest. “That was just really funny.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “I’m glad someone finds it funny.” He begins to turn away but then stops, desperation prodding him to use this opportunity. “You...wouldn’t happen to know the answer, would you?”

The girl looks surprised. “What’s the question? Whether or not the heat shields would survive the gravity assist?” Lance nods, and she blinks. “Well, yeah, of course they would.”

“Uh...Say what?”

“Yes, they’d survive. Zero material stress, actually,” she repeats steadily, her head tilted in confusion. 

“Oh… Thanks,” he manages, and she shrugs and turns back to her textbook.

Lance grabs his sheet of paper, fumbling it in his haste to turn it over and go over all the calculations again because she sounds so sure, like it’s an easy question when he’s been at it for almost a freaking hour now with no results.

What did he miss? He must have missed something. Something obvious? Where are his notes on Kepler’s laws?

With five minutes left on the study clock he gives in and turns back to the girl. The Library Sadako, he’d nicknamed her, since her hair is always covering her face and her pyjamas are as shapeless as a ghost’s robes. Plus she had a habit of appearing and disappearing from the library all but soundlessly. 

But right now she’s his last hope.

“So, uh… How do you prove it?”

She glances up at him, an irritated frown on her face at the interruption, and Lance realises there are bags under her eyes too. But her tone is neutral when she clarifies, “The material stress question?”

Lance nods, and she puts her pencil down and eyes him curiously. “You don’t need to prove it. Those are the specs for The Obol’s heat shields, and that flight path was the one for the return Saturn assist from the Kerberos mission last year. Remember?”

The ticking of the clock in the corner is suddenly much too loud, and all he can do is stare.

“You don’t need to prove it,” she repeats, exasperation creeping into her tone. “It’s already been proven. That’s one of the general knowledge questions.”

He spins back around, practically snarling in frustration as he digs through his papers to find the mock with the question on it.

When he finally finds it, it’s all he can do not to burn the damn thing. Stupid, stupid, stupid… She’s right, and there’s only two lines for an answer. Nowhere near enough space for the pages of vector diagrams and formulas covering his scrap paper.

And he’d wasted an hour on this. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Maybe he should just go back to the farm. Veronica wouldn’t have been this dumb. Heck, Keith wouldn’t have been this dumb and the guy wasn’t exactly the brightest in the bunch. Still, Keith’s in fighter class while Lance is languishing in cargo, so if Keith’s stupid what does that make Lance?

Really stupid. Space-level stupid. The stupidest stupid to— 

The thud of books hitting the table next to him rips him from his thoughts, and he looks up in surprise to see the girl pulling out the chair next to him, a hesitant smile on her face.

“When I studied for the entrance tests, I always found it easier to focus at night when I had my brother with me, even if we didn’t talk,” she says, one hand on the back of her neck as she sits down. “So, uh, maybe some company will help?”

Without waiting for an answer, she arranges her books, flipping open a notebook and textbook with practiced ease and beginning work on what looks like a flight mechanics question. Lance watches her for a moment, unsure, then sighs and flips to the next question on the paper.

Maybe she’s right. He might as well give it a go, since his solo progress has been nothing to brag about.

It’s almost midnight, anyway.

 *****

10TH FEBRUARY

 As it turns out, Sadako’s name is Katie, and she’s studying for the same exam he is.

But not because she failed round one, like Lance. She’s two grades below him and looking to skip a year.

Lance can’t help but find it a little bit galling, especially when it’s 11 p.m. and she’s just finished walking him through a Critical Reasoning question for the third time like it’s nothing. The formulas — formulae — are all neatly laid out on the paper, but Lance still doesn’t get it.

“Why are you even here?!” he blurts out, his jaw aching from the frustration. Katie recoils, her mouth hanging open and hurt flashing across her face and — oh — he hadn’t meant for that to sound so harsh. 

Especially not when she’d put so much effort into helping him over the last month.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, taking the pencil from her hand gently and putting it down before running his hand through his hair. “It’s just...none of this seems even a little bit hard for you. Why are you bothering to stay up like this?”

It’s something he’s wondered for a while. Katie’s been the only other person in the library until closing almost every night since fall so he’d always assumed they were in similar places, but now they were actually studying together…

“Oh,” she says, the tension leaving her posture again. Apology accepted, Lance guesses, but her eyes linger on his material science textbook instead of him, and her fingers fiddle with the ends of her long hair as she speaks. “Um, well, mat-sci really isn’t that hard for me. My dad’s...uh, my dad works for the Garrison as an engineer, and he does a lot of R&D and he always talks about his work at home, so…”

Katie taps the book, looking distinctly uncomfortable for some reason. Lance raises an eyebrow. “So if you haven’t been studying this, what have you been studying all this time?”

“Flight manuals,” Katie replies, finally meeting his gaze again, and Lance is relieved to see a spark in her eyes again. “I’ve only flown the droids a few times, and some of the older planes in basic, but the practical is a big part of the class exams and since there’s no way I’m going to get any actual practice, if I at least memorise all the flight manuals and mechanics and everything then I should have a shot.”

“Memorise the flight manuals?!”

“Yeah!” Lance stares at her as she chatters on enthusiastically, seemingly oblivious to how absurd that suggestion is in the first place. “A strong foundation in the theory can never be a replacement for practical experience, but it can be the difference between a weak pass and a fail. Of course I’ve been brushing up on stuff like this as well”—she pats the textbook twice—“because the closer I get to a hundred percent on the other subjects, the less a poor practical score will matter. I’ve tried to code my own simulations too” —you’ve tried to what?!—“but obviously I can’t replicate the physical aspects of the hardware with my laptop. I mean, I’d try a set-up of books and stuff just to get the motions down but then my roommate would probably complain even m—”

Lance bursts out laughing, cutting her ramble off abruptly, and Katie narrows her eyes at him.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Laughter still threatens to bubble over, but he pushes it down as he explains, “Just...that’s a lot!” His gaze falls to the notes from their study session and the pile of books spread across the desk, and he suddenly realises how he can pay her back a little. “Hey, my prac scores were pretty high, so I can help you out with that stuff if you want?”

A warm, genuine smile spreads across Katie’s face as she looks at him, and Lance realises with a start it’s the first time he’s seen it. It transforms her, turning her from a tired teenager in pyjamas into something his exhausted brain vaguely recognises as the sun.

“Really?!” Her tone is way too vibrant for this hour of night, and her hair swings back and forth as she bobs in her seat. “That would be the best! Thank you!”

Lance beams.

 *****

20TH FEBRUARY

 Hunk is rambling nervously about his last sim class as students bustle through the hallways when Lance’s phone finally buzzes with a reply.

Mid-terms are in two weeks. Of course I’m coming tonight. Usual time?

He shoots off a thumbs-up and turns back to tune into Hunk’s chatter.

“—and then he broke the whole comms deck and Lance, what if he does that during our mid-terms? Keith already made Iverson angry — and I mean really angry —  and oh, if we get marked down on the pracs because of it then I’m really going to need to pull up my avionics and aero science scores if I want to stay in the top ten,” Hunk continues, breathless. “Oh man, I have no idea how I’m going to do that on top of all this other stuff we have to study! I don’t even want to leave the ground, why do I have to learn how to fly the stupid things?!”

Lance glances up from his phone, a smirk already on his lips. “Because you went to flight school, maybe?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” Hunk slumps back against the wall and groans. “Hands down the Biggest. Mistake. Of my life.”

Lance’s phone buzzes with a reply. He checks it quickly, excitement filling him when he sees the small thumbs up icon.

“Hey, if you’re worried about your exam scores, why don’t you study with us in the library sometimes?”

Hunk pauses, expression turning devious as he straightens up and turns to face him. “Us? You mean you and your study girlfriend?”

He waggles his eyebrows meaningfully, and Lance rolls his eyes, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Katie. And you know she’s not my girlfriend. She’s good to study with, though, and she said you should come.”

“Hm.” Hunk’s expression doesn’t change. If anything, his smirk grows more irritating. “Okay, I’m in. It’s about time I met the elusive Katie, anyway.”

 *****

10TH MARCH

 The first time Lance sees Katie in daylight is at a diner near campus the week after mid-terms.

“Why don’t you just ask your brother, Pidge?” Hunk asks accusatorially, wielding a fry at the girl across the table rolling her eyes at them. “Can’t he like, just log in and tell me my scores? Given that he’s a famous astronaut and all.”

Katie — Pidge, he has to remember to call her Pidge now because she freaking deserves it after all the lies she told him in the library — grabs the fry from Hunk’s grasp and pops it into her mouth, chewing it deliberately slowly before swallowing and replying with a frown, “You know it doesn’t work like that. And stop calling me Pidge.”

“Aw, but Pidge is such a good nickname. Cute Pidgey-Widgey Pigeon.” Hunk pops another fry into his mouth as Pidge’s expression darkens. 

(For someone who spends most of his time worrying, he’s a heck of a lot braver facing certain death than Lance would be.)

“Oh my God, can’t you just drop it?”

“Nope,” he replies, smirk still firmly in place. “It’s your punishment for keeping secrets. Isn’t that right, Lance?”

Lance glances from Hunk to Pidge, then decides that self-preservation is for losers after all.

“Totally.” He quirks an eyebrow, inwardly delighting at how her eyes narrow as they focus on him. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who was all ‘oh, I’m just good at this because my dad’s an engineer’ and totally forgot to mention that he wrote the freaking textbook.”

“Ugh!” Katie slumps forward, all but slamming her forehead on the table. “Look, I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you guys, but people hear the name ‘Holt’ and get weird, okay?”

The last bit comes out as a mumble, and Lance feels a stab of sympathy. The weight of having successful siblings is something he understands well; he can only imagine the pressure of coming from an entire line of Garrison royalty.

Then again… “We’ve been friends for months, Katie,” he points out. “It just sucks that we had to find out because your famous astronaut brother appeared in the library and started calling you ‘Pidge’.”

Katie raises her head, lips pursed in annoyance. “So what, you guys are going to stop using my real name as my penance or something?”

“Exactly,” Hunk says decisively. “Like, I wouldn’t have cared if you’d told us — hey, Matt was pretty cool, and it’s so freaking amazing that your dad is like one of my engineering heroes — but finding it out like that sucked. You should’ve trusted us enough to tell us.” He pauses, then goes for the kill. “I thought we were friends.”

Her face falls, and Lance is vaguely aware that they might have overdone it.

 *****

25TH MARCH

 The post-Matt interrogation at the diner starts something. Soon, Pidge is joining them for lunch in the canteen every day, and then breakfast, and then before Lance has really processed it their duo has become a trio and it feels weird to think of a time when Pidge wasn’t in their group.

Moments like now, though, remind him.

“Why would he make a fool of himself?”

“Because that,” Hunk answers with a flourish, gesturing at Jenny’s retreating back, “was—”

And Lance suddenly realises that he doesn’t want Pidge to know about this.

He quickly slaps a hand over Hunk’s mouth, ignoring his muffled indignation to smile awkwardly at Pidge. “Y’know what? It doesn’t matter. You don’t need t— armmf!”

Less than two seconds later he’s struggling to breathe, strong muscles wrapped firmly around his head and torso and the pungent smell of Hunk’s armpit filling his nostrils.

“That,” Hunk continues, barely affected by Lance’s struggles for freedom, “was Jenny Shayburn.”

“Who’s Jenny Shayburn?” Pidge asks, and Lance can just imagine her expression: one eyebrow raised with that look that says why must you be like this? as she watches their tussle.

Or, well, Lance would like to call it a tussle. Hunk probably just sees it as an inconvenience.

“Oh, just the love of Lance’s life and his obsession for the last two years. No big deal.” 

Lance slumps against Hunk’s chest and groans. Both Pidge and Hunk latch onto gossip with the ferocity of his brother’s old terrier.

“Oh,” she says, her tone flat. “Weird.”

Lance pushes away from Hunk, who releases him without a fight, but he can’t find any relief in his reprieve. Pidge’s fingers grip her cup tightly as she sips, her gaze fixed on the students entering and leaving the canteen, and Lance feels an odd weight settle in his stomach.

What’s he supposed to say to that? A part of him wants to protest that he hasn’t thought about Jenny in ages, but it feels like... What’s that Shakespeare quote? The one about the lady protesting?

That.

Hunk glances between them, a calculating expression on his face as he takes in the tension at the table, then waves at Pidge to get her attention. “So,” he begins, tone sly, “is there anyone you like? Any special boy in our little Pigeon’s life?”

Lance rolls his eyes and tries to look as disinterested as possible, even though a part of him is on tenterhooks waiting for the answer. It’s not a topic they’ve ever broached in their hangouts. 

“Sorry, no,” Pidge answers quickly, but she’s avoiding their gaze and the lie is obvious, and Lance suddenly wonders who it is and if he could take him in a fight.

Though it’s not like he cares.

“Aw, c’mon, you can tell us,” Hunk cajoles, nudging Lance far too hard in the chest with his elbow. “Bet you loverboy Lance here can give you some tips for catching his eye.”

“Uh, yeah! Sure!” He runs a hand through his bangs, feigning a confidence he’s not feeling. “Advice. I can totally help ya out.”

He grins and shoots her some fingerguns, adding a wink for good measure. There. That was natural.

The deadpan expression on her face doesn’t change (maybe he’s lost his touch?).

“Thanks, but no thanks,” she replies at length, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Look, it’s just a crush and he doesn’t like me back anyway. Can we change the topic now?”

For whatever reason, Hunk obliges, and the weird tension that had hung over the table dissipates fairly quickly as they move on to safer topics. The strange taste in Lance’s mouth lingers, though, and he’s not sure why.

 *****

3RD APRIL

 Everybody else in the diner is watching and chuckling and Pidge looks like she’s about to die, but really — she should know by now that they take that as encouragement.

“Haaapppy birthday dear Pigeon…” they bellow, Hunk adding an impressive vibrato on the low note. “Haaapppy birthday tooo—” Lance manages to take it up way-too-high there, grinning proudly when Pidge winces from behind her hands— “you!”

They finish with a poor attempt at harmonisation, bodies half-out of the booth with a flourish of jazz hands as the rest of the restaurant bursts into laughter, whoops and applause.

“Oh my God…” Pidge mutters, finally removing her hands from her face as the noise dies down. “Can I blow these stupid things out now?!”

Her tone is deadpan but her cheeks are a bright pink, but the sparkle in her eyes is what really gives her away. She’s pleased, she just thinks she’s too cool to show it.

(Or something. Sometimes Pidge really confuses him.)

After several unsuccessful attempts to blow them out, Pidge plucks the sparklers from her pile of pancakes and rapidly-melting ice cream and dunks them both in Lance’s water before he can stop her. Then she waves the dead sparklers in his direction with narrowed eyes and hisses, “I know the sparklers were your idea.”

“You wound me!!” Lance protests, his hand on his heart as he pretends to swoon. “You should know by now I only have your wellbeing at heart!”

“Nah, she’s not that dumb, buddy,” Hunk adds. Pidge snorts, turning into a full-blown laugh when Lance flops onto the table dramatically at Hunk’s betrayal, getting ice-cream in his hair in the process.

They dig into their pancakes with gusto, discussing their plans for when spring break starts the next day (Lance and Pidge are both heading home — Lance to Cuba to help with the calving and ploughing, Pidge to her family’s house just outside post — while Hunk is staying on at school for the fortnight) and debating the perfect topping combination and whether or not they’d be able to eat them when they finally made their way into space. It’s the most carefree meal Lance has had in a while — the perfect end to a busy term — and it’s enough to make him forget about the gift bag on the seat next to him.

But eventually the plates are cleared and the butterflies come back full-force when Hunk drops his gift on the table with a thud.

“Seriously?!” Pidge exclaims, beaming as she looks between them. “Guys, you didn’t need to!”

“Hey, this one’s just from me! Open it.” He pushes the box towards Pidge, winking surreptitiously at Lance as he adds, “Lance has his own present for you.”

Pidge tears into Hunk’s gift with gusto, her eyes lighting up as she removes what looks like a very small version of the throttle used in the fighter sims. Hunk starts rattling off its specs — he’d picked up an old one and basically reengineered the part with help from his whiz-kid pilot — and Pidge launches into a series of questions, almost all of which fly way over Lance’s head.

He tunes out of the conversation somewhere around the point where they start making plans for Hunk to visit her over the break to help install it, instead choosing to sit back and watch his friends interact. The hair in Katie’s ponytail is swinging all over the place as she does that excited bobbing thing she does, and he can’t help but think that it’s ridiculously cute.

A well-placed elbow rips Lance from his thoughts and he hurriedly grabs the bag and shoves it across the table, almost tipping it over in the process and wincing at how uncool he must look.

He quickly flashes a pose and follows it up with a wink and fingerguns (fingerguns can save any situation. Fact). “Mine’s the best, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Pidge drawls with a smile, but her brow furrows as she accepts the bag and looks inside. “Uh, did you forget your umbrella in here…?”

“Oh! No, no, that’s for you.” Hunk’s shoulders are shaking with laughter beside him, and Lance can feel his cheeks heating up. “Just like, you seem like a practical girl, and an umbrella’s a practical gift!”

The fingerguns come out again, and Pidge rolls her eyes with a laugh as she places the green-and-blue umbrella to the side (really he’d just picked it up so he wasn’t just giving her the other thing, but she didn’t need to know that). “Okay…”

The butterflies return in full force as she opens the bag again and pulls out the slim box, her expression shifting to one of surprise as she recognises it.

“Go on. Open it,” he says, answering the question in her eyes, and he can’t help his lips from pulling up into a smile when she does so and gasps.

“Lance…” She looks from him to the necklace in the box, eyes wide and lips parted, then shakes her head. “Lance, I can’t accept this! It must have cost you a fortune.”

But the way she’s looking at it — at him — lets him know that she really wants to, and that’s enough for the butterflies to finally settle into something warm and soft instead.

“Nah, it wasn’t that much.” Only his whole allowance for the month, but she didn’t need to know that, either. “I just saw it and thought it would suit you. And you only turn sixteen once, right?”

She flashes him a smile and looks back at the necklace, eyes soft as her fingertip traces over the intricate gold and green pendant. He’s telling the truth about thinking it would suit her — he saw it on a trip to the mall and immediately wanted to get it for Pidge, and that was before he’d known her birthday was coming up. 

Hunk is nudging him with his elbow, making weird noises that Lance knows translate to ‘See? See? I told you she’d like it’ and Lance feels an urge to laugh because he’d been so stupidly nervous about giving her his gift — even though it’s just a necklace! It’s not like it’s a ring or anything else with some weird hidden meaning.

“Could you help me put it on?”

He stares at Pidge, startled by the shy question. Her cheeks are a bright pink but she’s not looking away and he nods dumbly, rooted to the spot until Hunk all but shoves him out of the booth and towards Pidge’s side.

“I, uh… Sure.”

His fingers barely tremble as he removes the necklace from the proffered box, and then Pidge is leaning forward and flipping her ponytail out of the way and before he really knows what’s going on he’s fastened the clasp and is drawing away from the pale, freckled skin of her neck and back to his side of the booth (which suddenly feels so, so far away), fingertips burning as he takes his seat again.

“Thanks.” Pidge beams at him as she fiddles with the pendant displayed on her chest.

Lance nods dumbly, heart pounding. Her skin was so soft. Are all girls that soft?

He glances from Pidge’s smile to the pendant, finally breaking into a genuine smile himself as one thought crosses his mind. 

He was right. It does suit her.

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Big Spook (Peter Parker x Reader -  Part 1)

Synopsis: Aged Up!Peter thinks he’s done well with leading a double life. He’s studying what he likes, he has his own place, he’s dating the girl he loves... but that doesn’t mean life is easy all the time. Even superheroes have bad days - and sometimes worse days.

Tags: Aged Up!Character, College AU, Established relationship, Whump, Angst. Does not take FFH into account. SPOILER FREE.

Word count: 2k

A/N: I decided to write a shorter piece since my long ones don’t get a lot of attention. I don’t know why... Do you guys prefer short imagines? Do you get discouraged when you see “word count: 9k”??? Please tell me in the comments so I can adapt my writing :(

>>> Part 2

MASTERLIST

Any twenty-something will tell you that life is a roller-coaster. One minute you’re on top of the world, the next you’re plummeting down, plunging towards the cement ground at a hundred miles an hour with no means of pulling the breaks of your own demise.

But if you asked Peter Parker, twenty-four and currently balancing out a post-graduate and superhero life, it was far worse than that. The highs were higher – as high as space, actually – and the lows were…

Actually, he didn’t like to talk about the lows. They were the kinds of lows he sometimes couldn’t remember, and that said it all. He could deal with those, but it killed him to see the effect it had on (Y/N), the way she worried herself sick over his well-being.

They had been dating for a solid five years now, and lived together in a small, grimy apartment – the only thing they could afford – near NYU, where they both studied mechanical engineering. It was how they met, in freshman year, and slowly became permanent features in each other’s life.

(Y/N) was strong and steadfast, though she often gave the appearance of a delicate slip of a woman, Peter had discovered it was no were near her true self. He knew she could take whatever life threw at her, and that was why he didn’t push her away when things started becoming serious between them, and he realized it might one day put her in danger.

He had once told her she was like a river: calm and steady on the surface, but intense and full of life deep down. It had made her smile and she had called him silly, then kissed him. Peter loved the way she loved him, and he loved to love her too. It was easy, like second nature really. There was no fighting it, and to be honest, Peter didn’t even try because turning away from her radiant presence was the last thing he wanted. However, that didn’t mean that he could impose his alter ego to her.

Therefore, he had decided to tell her about his double life, to give her a chance to back out of their relationship if she decided it was too much. He never got the chance in the end, because the day he finally worked up the courage to talk to her was the first day he got seriously beat up by a villain since they started dating.

(Y/N) had found Peter in the alley next to her shared apartment, limping in the shadows and calling her name in a whisper. He had collapsed and lost consciousness before she could reach him.

That day became a turning point in both their lives, but not necessarily for the worst. (Y/N) had carried him – hell knows how – up to the fourth floor where she lived and smuggled him in her room without her roommates noticing anything, and she had tended to his wounds after establishing that he wasn’t in any life-threatening condition.

Peter woke up two days later, the morning sun hitting him in the face, his Spider-Man suit hanging on the back of a chair next to the bed he laid on. He recognized his surroundings immediately, sending his heart into a frenzy, but when he tried to stand up to leave, the pain knocked him down again and he fell back into the pile of pillows on (Y/N)’s bed with a grunt, the air sucked out of his lungs.

(Y/N) had burst into the room, an apron tied around her waist. When she saw him awake, tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them away, one trembling hand covering her mouth.

“(Y/N),” Peter breathed out, still struggling to catch some air. “I can explain…”

               She didn’t let him. Instead, she lurched forward and threw her arms around him, crying into the crook of his neck. She tried not to hold him too tightly, but the relief was too great to just stand there.

“You could have told me, Peter,” she sobbed against his skin. She had undressed him to dress his wounds, Peter realized. “I was so scared, so scared…”

               Her entire body shook against his, and Peter could only wrap one arm around her while he supported himself with the other, but he too was relieved to see her. She knew the truth now, though he would rather she discovered it another way.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he apologized, planting a kiss on her temple. “I was going to tell you, I swear. This isn’t how you were supposed to find out.”

               They held each other for hours, quietly crying and whispering sweet nothings, until (Y/N) was all out of tears and Peter’s stomach began to grumble. He hadn’t eaten in two days after all, and he was in dire need of a shower and a warm meal. He promised to tell her everything over breakfast, and after he made a quick stop at the bathroom while (Y/N) prepared some eggs and bacon, he came out of her room, limping but very much alive, wearing the spare clothes he always left at her place.

               Those were the best scrambled eggs he had ever eaten.

 *

               Flash-forward three years, (Y/N) didn’t have to drag Peter’s limp body out of an alley and sneak him into her shared flat. A little over a year ago, when they graduated, they decided to try for a master’s degree too and moved in together.

               It wasn’t much, they basically lived on top of each other, but it was theirs – and neither of them really minded having to live on top of each other. Peter liked to think that if Tony was still alive and saw where he lived, he would forcefully drag him out, have the entire building demolished for not respecting the most basic health standards, and buy him his own private penthouse overlooking central park on fifth avenue.

               (Y/N) told Peter she would have personally overlooked the demolition, because this place was truly not sanitary in any way. Still, they made do, and after thoroughly cleaning, sweeping, scrubbing and swabbing, it started to look like a place human beings would live. It became their home.

               Peter waited until dusk to go on his daily patrols, so no one would spy Spider-Man lurking around their living-place. The last thing he wanted was for someone bearing ill-intentions to lay a hand on (Y/N) while he was gone.

“I can see you vibrating from here,” (Y/N) commented with a giggle, looking up from her manual and momentarily stopping scribbling down notes.

               She was sitting on the far end of the couch, legs tucked under her, while Peter was kneeling next to the window, already wearing his suit, though he still held his mask in his hand, and waiting for the moment the streetlights would turn on – his signal that it was dark enough to leave.

               When she spoke up, Peter froze and realized his left leg had been hopping nervously, and he was fidgeting.

“Can’t help it,” he said with an apologetic glance. (Y/N) only smiled in return. He knew she had trouble focusing on her work whenever he was in the same room, being a nervous wreck about one thing or another. “I hope I can find him tonight, before he makes more victims.”

               His gaze was trained on the streets down below, but he heard (Y/N) put down her pen and shut her book. A new villain had been terrorizing people around town, targeting small, family-owned businesses with no security, not even cameras. The police couldn’t find him because they had no idea who to look for, his identity remained a mystery, for all they knew he might not even work alone.

               Peter had almost tracked him down last week, but he managed to escape in the night, and had kept popping here and there to do his misdeeds every night since. Peter felt responsible and grew antsy knowing he was still out there. The other reason why no one knew what he looked like was because he never left survivors. The victims were found in truly gruesome conditions.

               Peter hadn’t seen for himself yet, but even the police reports sounded awful, and they always toned it down for the public and tried to keep everything objective. Reports talked about massacres. Blood everywhere.

“I know how much you want to catch him, Peter,” (Y/N) started, sighing deeply. She stood up and joined him by the window, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Please be very careful.” Her eyes glimmered with worry. “I don’t want to see your name in tomorrow’s headlines, understood?”

“I have to stop him, I’ll do whatever it takes,” he argued. “I should have caught him long ago, no one’s managed to elude me for so long. If only I knew how he always managed to disappear-“

“Peter!” (Y/N) cut him off. She knelt down to be at eye-level with him and took his chin between her fingers. “I’m afraid your eagerness will lead you to making a mistake. Be smart about this, don’t just rush into a fight and risk your life.”

“I risk my life every day, (Y/N), there’s nothing new about this,” he protested, shaking his head. “What’s the matter now? Why is this guy any different?”

“You know why,” she snapped, standing up again and crossing her arms. “I heard the reports too, Peter. You’re not the only one who can connect to the police frequency, I know what he did to those people. He’s a butcher.”

“Which is exactly why I need to stop him!” He didn’t see what (Y/N) expected him to do. “Who else is going to do it? The police are clueless, and I’m much stronger than them anyway.”

“But you’re not invincible!”

               It came from a good place, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear right now. Peter yanked his head back so (Y/N) would let go of him, and he turned away, making her sigh again. They rarely argued about anything, at least nothing of real importance. Sure they disagreed on stuff, like what movie to watch, whether to order Thai or Indian, what to get May for her birthday – but they always found common ground when it came to grave matters.

               (Y/N) always knew that Peter Parker would be the death of her, even before finding out about his double life. From the very first time he had laughed at one of her idiotic science puns, she had known. During their first tutorial class, the teacher had paired the students randomly together, and they had never again changed partners since.

               But having to watch him fly into the night, not knowing when, how, or if he was going to come back, was something (Y/N) never thought she would have to bear with. Most girls only had to worry about not being cheated on or keeping things spicy in the bedroom. (Y/N) had to worry about her boyfriend never coming home, about Peter going MIA. Each goodbye kiss could be the last, and she was aware of that, she made them all count.

               But not tonight.

“It’s time,” he said before she could go back on her words. She regretted them the moment they crossed her lips. The streetlights were on. “Don’t wait on me.”

               And just like that, he jumped out of the window, disappearing out of sight. (Y/N) leaned on the frame to see him off but he didn’t turn back at all. She couldn’t remember the last time they parted ways on such bad terms.

It was starting to rain, too.

.

.

.

.

Comment if you wanna be tagged on part 2 :)

REBLOG TO SAVE A WRITER

[iris-writes-things]

Two Guys and a Baby: Day 11 part 2

Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut, or read ahead as I write the story as a $1 Patreon patron!

"Oh my God…" Anthony mumbled, rubbing his hands in his face. "I've known you for ten years, how did I not see this coming?" "What do we do now?" "Well, obviously, I'm going to teach you how to cook. Starting with dessert."

Or, it's going to be a long night.

Chapter 15 of 20 Ongoing 3556 words Romance/Humor

Contrary to popular belief, Crowley could cook. It might help to understand this situation if you knew that Anthony J Crowley, aged thirty-two, PA to the head of marketing at a large multinational* and living in the very heart of London, used to cook for his entire dorm back in art school. 

(*except not quite anymore)

Ten young men, nine of them without the basic cooking skills one would simply have picked up by watching their mum** cooking for them for long enough, in close quarters, making long hours in uni and with hardly a penny to spare, was an outbreak of scurvy waiting to happen. Crowley was not about to let that pass.

(**or dad or other legal guardian)

The arrangement had worked out well enough. He would cook enough for a small army every night, including enough leftovers to provide packed lunches the next day, and the others would do the dishes and, occasionally, let him copy their notes. At first, it had taken some serious maths and creativity to wrangle the family recipes into something that could be more or less mass-produced, and some serious convincing for the shop on the corner to let him buy his ingredients in bulk, but it had been smooth sailing from there. 

Now that Crowley lived alone, however, he didn’t cook for himself anymore. In fact, he was pretty sure he only cooked when it was his turn to cook for Angela and Anathema. 

His appetite wasn’t particularly large, and he’d never perfected the art of cooking for one. Besides, he could simply afford to at least order takeout whenever he got hungry. But now that he had Ezra… he could simply justify cooking again. In fact, there was beef wellington resting on the dinner table, along with roasted rosemary potatoes and various vegetables, to support that claim.

Crowley stared at the ingredients on his counter. Four eggs, a sack of sugar, a carton of heavy cream, a bar of dark chocolate, and a bottle of vanilla extract. 

His mum never made chocolate mousse. As such, he didn’t have any family recipe for it. He was about to blindly trust the judgment of a convicted American felon in his own damn kitchen – but what a way to go, he mused to himself. He wiped his hands on the checkered towel that was slung over his shoulder and went into the living room to check up on Adam once more. 

Sleeping like a log. Crowley smiled and reached down to stroke his rosy little cheek. He hadn’t expected to get this attached. He’d hoped he wouldn’t, but he did. Handing him back to Lucy would break his heart.

A knock sounded at his door.

Crowley jumped up and sprinted towards the door, socks slipping across the smooth floor. He took a deep breath and opened it, draping himself against the doorframe very suavely but also not entirely unlike a melting chocolate santa claus. 

At least he would have Ezra.

“Hello, angel.”

“Hello, my dear,” Ezra beamed. He gestured to a bottle of wine. “I hope this one will suit your tastes better than the last one.”

“I’m sure it will.” The bar was set low enough, after all. “Come on in,” he said, stepping aside for Ezra.

“Oh my goodness,” Ezra said as he stepped inside. “Anthony, my love, that smells marvellous.”

‘My love’. Crowley’s knees almost buckled. “Well, you know, I try,” he said as smoothly as he could muster. About as smooth as sandpaper, by anyone’s best judgment.

Ezra only nodded and smiled. “Is Adam asleep, then?” he asked.

“I put him to bed just an hour ago, he’s not likely to wake up until after we finish.”

“Does that mean we can have some of this now?” Ezra asked, wiggling the wine bottle in his hands.

Crowley took the bottle, nodded and smoothed his hair back before pulling out a chair for Ezra. “That’s exactly what that means. Here, take a seat.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Ezra said, smiling a fond smile as he sat down.

As Crowley walked to the other end of the table, he inspected the bottle more closely and found that, to his relief, it was one with a twist cap. A satisfying crackle sounded as he opened the bottle and was greeted by a waft of the wine’s fragrance. Yes, this one would be much better, he thought to himself as he poured them each a generous glass. “Alright, so, I’m sure you’re familiar with all of these; roasted veggies and potatoes and a beef wellington.”

“Oh yes, I can’t wait.” Ezra rubbed his hands together as he glanced over the foods on the table – Crowley was even sure he spied a bit of tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth.

It brought a smile to Crowley’s face. “Well then, don’t.”

*

An entire dinner and half a bottle of wine between them later, Ezra found himself staring down at the ingredients on Anthony’s counter. Eggs, sugar, cream, chocolate and a small bottle containing God knew what. They shouldn’t intimidate him, but they did. What if he did something wrong? He’d make a fool of himself and a mess of Anthony’s kitchen. How he regretted relying on his family’s values for so long. Now he couldn’t even make something as simple as dessert. 

Anthony must have noticed something was off about him, as he soon felt a nudge against his arm. When he looked, Ezra found Crowley, holding out his spare apron and a kitchen towel to him – the man was already wearing his own. “Ezra, are you okay?”

“I– yes my dear, I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile.

“Did you catch anything of what I just said?” Anthony asked.

Ezra glanced down and shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“It’s okay. I know it can be a lot. Just put on your apron and put your towel over your shoulder– exactly, like that. You can use that to wipe your hands on when they get dirty or just feel, you know, icky.”

Ezra nodded and did as he was told.

“Alright, first things first, we’re going to separate our eggs. We’ll need four, so I’ll do two to show you how it’s done, and then you can do the final two,” Anthony said as he drew two bowls closer to them on the counter. “We’ll only be using our yolks, so we’ll use the large bowl for the egg whites and the shells so we can toss those out in one go. So, this will be our trash bowl, if you will.”

Next, Anthony took an egg from the carton on the counter, he tapped it lightly against the sleek, black marble. He brought it over the bowl and slowly opened the shell. “Okay, so this is the difficult bit. Look very closely, okay? We’ll just…” he trailed off. Ezra wasn’t surprised in the slightest. What Anthony was doing now, no doubt took a lot of concentration, as he hot-potatoed the yolk from one half of the egg shell to the other, as lumps of egg white dripped into the large bowl below. When little more than the yolk remained, he gently dropped the jiggly orb into the smaller bowl beside it.

“See? It’s a little hard to explain, but I hope I did okay,” Anthony smiled nervously.

Ezra nodded. “You did marvellously.”

“Great! So, I know cracking the shell on the counter can be a bit hard at first, and it’s easier to determine where the crack will go if you do it on the edge of the bowl because it’s a smaller surface, but it also increases the risk of breaking the yolk. So, if you do it that way, you’ll have to be extra careful.”

“I think you’ll find that Careful is my middle name,” Ezra huffed, adjusting his bow tie. It didn’t need adjusting, but he liked the drama it added.

“Your middle name is Zacharie,” Anthony laughed. He took another egg from the carton and gently tapped it against the edge of the bowl. It cracked exactly where he tapped it, but it also ran deeper than when he tapped it against the counter. Again, Anthony turned it over to completely open the egg and hot-potato the yolk from one half to the other, then once more deposited the yolk in the bowl. 

“Don’t you get smart with me,” Ezra mock threatened.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Anthony smiled. “Well, your turn,” he said, handing Ezra an egg before wiping the egg white from his hands on the towel over his shoulder.

“Okay, let’s see…” Ezra mumbled as he tried to visualize everything Anthony just did. He tapped the egg against the edge of the bowl, turned it over and opened the shell– only to find mixed yolk and egg white dripping into the bowl below. “Shit,” Ezra hissed.

Anthony’s eyebrows seemed to rise off his forehead, but wisely, the man said nothing as he handed Ezra the next egg. “No harm done. Just be a little more gentle.”

Ezra nodded as he tapped the egg against the edge of the bowl again. He turned the egg, opened the shell to find his yolk intact in the shell in his left hand.

“Right! Now just pour the egg white from the shell in your right hand– yes, exactly like that. Now, pour the yolk into the empty shell– very good, now empty your left shell– good, and put the yolk into the empty shell again– fantastic! Now you can put your yolk with the others.”

Pride bubbled up in Ezra’s chest. He did it! He successfully separated an egg! He had to be grinning like an idiot by now, but he didn’t care. He did it. With a level of boldness he’d rarely expressed in someone else’s house, he took another egg from the carton and repeated the process. Once there were four yolks in the small bowl, he hazarded a look at Anthony again, who beamed back at him with pride.

“See, angel? Nothing to it.”

Ezra nodded in agreement. “Nothing to it. What’s next?”

“Next, we make our custard,” Anthony said as he fired up his ceramic cooktop to medium-low. Ezra could have sworn he’d seen the cooctop’s manual lying around in the kitchen before they started cooking, but he quickly filed it away as Anthony picked up the carton of heavy cream and a set of measuring cups. “We’ll need three quarters of a cup of this…” he mumbled as he poured the cream into the cup and then dove into his drawers for a saucepan, which he then placed on his cooktop. Without much ceremony, he poured the heavy cream into the saucepan, chased by two tablespoons of the sugar. “This next bit will be very tricky,” he said, picking up the bowl with the egg yolks, pouring them into the saucepan a little more carefully. “Because, when making custard, you can’t allow the mixture to boil, or it’ll be… not custard.” Anthony picked up a whisk from the rack by the cooktop and handed it to Ezra. “But the first bit is easy. Just whisk it to mix it. It’ll need to warm up until it’s thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.”

Ezra nodded, nervously but excitedly took the whisk and carefully mixed the eggs, the cream and the sugar together. He wasn’t sure the fact that Anthony had turned around to break up the bar of chocolate into little pieces made him more comfortable or less, but he supposed he liked to have some sort of faith put in him in the kitchen. Eza peered over the edge of the saucepan. The custard was beginning to thicken. He found himself smiling proudly again. He gave the custard another whisk, picked a wooden spoon off the rack by the cooktop and dragged the back of it across the surface of the custard. It dripped off in thick wads. “I think it’s ready,” Ezra said, taking the saucepan off the stove and showing it to Anthony.

Anthony turned and took a look. “I think so too,” he said, laying a hand on Ezra’s shoulder and patting it slightly. “On to the next step?”

“On to the next step.”

Anthony stepped aside to reveal the chocolate sitting in a bowl, with a sieve hanging over it. “Alright, so you just pour it into the sieve that’s meant to catch the lumps, if there are any, which I doubt.”

Ezra poured the thick substance into the strainer and scraped the very last out of the saucepan with a wooden spoon. Meanwhile, the custard that dripped from the strainer was warming and melting the chocolate. 

The few lumps that had formed, Anthony pushed through the sieve with the back of the spoon. “That’s that,” the man mumbled absently as he put the saucepan and the whisk into the sink. “We’ll have to wait a few minutes until the chocolate is melted enough to mix it properly, so I’ll clean these up real quick.”

Ezra nodded, even as his fingers itched to help Anthony. Sure, he was here to learn, but washing up was something he knew how to do and he wasn’t about to make Anthony do all the work. Instead, he settled for watching the chocolate melt at the excruciatingly slow pace that waiting brought with it.

“Eager to continue, huh?” Anthony asked from behind him. Ezra nearly jumped. 

“Actually, I would much rather have helped you washing up,” the older man said with what he was sure was a pout.

Anthony raised his hands in self-defense. “Will do. Promise,” he said in an attempt to de-escalate, but Ezra nudged him in the arm, identifying his pout as a friendly gesture. “Well, that chocolate looks about melted,” he said as he handed Ezra the wooden spoon again. “I’m sure you know what to do with this.”

Ezra nodded and stirred the still warm custard and the chocolate together. “You know, if you told me we could just eat this for dessert, I would believe you,” he said as he watched the dark brown liquid drip off his spoon.

“Well, you could,” Anthony said, but judging by his face, there was a ‘but’ on the horizon. “But I’m sure it’ll be much better once it’s finished,” he continued as he took the bowl and put it in the refrigerator to cool down.

“What do you mean, ‘you’re sure’? Haven’t you made this before?”

An apologetic smile formed on Anthony’s face. A half-hearted attempt at a shrug was made. Ezra knew all he needed to know.

“Well then, you’d better be right. Or you’ll never hear the end of it,” Ezra said matter-of-factly, but he was sure Anthony knew it was an empty threat.

“Just to start us off on more-or-less more equal ground. I didn’t have any recipe for chocolate mousse, so I just looked it up on the internet.”

“If you say so.”

“And I say so,” Anthony said as he dove into another drawer of his kitchen, re-emerging with a mixer in hand. He pulled another bowl closer to them and poured in the remaining one and a quarter cup of cream, followed by another two tablespoons of sugar. He plugged the mixer into the socket by the cooktop and handed it to Ezra. “Okay, so what you want to do, is start it off slowly–”

Ezra cursed his nervous thumbs. The mixer turned on at full force, splattering them and everything around them. Silently, Ezra was grateful for Anthony’s minimalist approach to decoration, especially in his kitchen.

Anthoný’s fingers flew around Ezra’s hand and the mixer and quickly turned it off. Not too much cream had flown out of the bowl, but neither of their aprons covered enough of them to have protected their shirts and their faces from the barrage of white droplets. Ezra was nervous to look at Anthony, until he felt the man shaking against him. A second later, the sound of suppressed laughter filled his ears until the man leaned back and let out a loud, hearty laugh. 

Ezra chortled as well. “I don’t suppose that’s why one wants to start the mixer off slowly?”

“That’s exactly the reason,” Anthony smiled as he wiped the cream of his perfect cheekbones with the towel on his shoulder. “May I?” he asked as he extended a hand towards Ezra, who gladly parted with the mixer. Anthony put it on its slowest setting and began to beat the cream again.

Ezra watched with wonder as the cream stiffened up under the ministrations of the mixer, which was gradually turned up higher as the cream grew more firm. “This looks so much better than the whipped cream you get from the cans at the supermarkets.”

“It is, actually. D’you want to know how I know the cream is firm enough?”

Ezra was overcome with the sudden feeling that Anthony was about to do something extremely dumb, but in the kitchen, he trusted the man blindly, so against the feeling in his gut, he nodded.

Anthony responded to this by picking up the bowl, mixer not included, holding it over his head, and turning it upside down.

It stuck.

“You have no idea how relieved I am right now,” Ezra said with a nervous chuckle.

“As am I,” Anthony said, flipping the bowl upside up and putting it back down. “If that hadn’t worked, I would have looked like a complete fool.”

“Like we both do, right now?” Ezra suggested, wiping the specks of cream from his face and hair with his towel before reaching up to get the ones in Anthony’s hair as well.

“Well, if you insist that we do,” Anthony said with a smile. Ezra could swear he leaned into his touch ever so slightly. “Shall we finish up this mousse, though?”

“And finally have dessert? My pleasure.”

“Solid reasoning.” Anthony opened the fridge and brought out the chocolate custard, picking a rubber spatula from the rack by the stove which he handed to Ezra. “Alright then, I’ll hold this bowl over the whipped cream, you scrape all of this into that bowl below and then I’ll fold the cream and the custard into each other.”

Now, emptying a bowl was something Ezra knew he could do. Confidently, he scraped the custard into the bowl before handing the spatula back to Anthony. “There we go.”

“Thank you,” Anthony said with a smile, and set to folding the mousse together. 

Cooking was fun, Ezra realized. Not just to make something deliciously decadent, but also to help out Anthony and watch him work. Who knew the man with the small appetite was also arguably the most passionate about cooking. With the flick of his wrist – or three, or four – holding the spatula with long and slender fingers, Anthony expertly combined the two mixtures together into something Ezra was sure would melt on his tongue.

“According to the recipe,” Anthony started, derailing Ezra’s train of thought before it could go somewhere unsavoury, “we have to chill this first, and then bring it up to room temperature before we can try this. Now, I personally think that’s a waste of time…” he trailed off.

“And I would be inclined to agree,” Ezra said. 

“Good!” Anthony said and bolted over to his cabinets and produced two stylish and spotless white, square plates. On both of them, he put a generous dollop of the chocolate mousse and sprinkled some shavings of the leftover chocolate over them. Before Ezra could do anything to them, Anthony brought them to the table, set one down at each of their seats and poured them both a new glass of wine.

Ezra was happy to take his place back at the table and picked up his dessert spoon almost immediately. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun in a kitchen. Actually, I’ve probably never had this much fun in a kitchen to begin with,” he said, quickly taking a sip of his wine as he realized how that could be misconstrued.

Anthony seemed to ignore this and simply smiled. “I’m glad you had fun, then. Do you think you could do this again Friday? I mean, I can still help, if you want me to.”

“You know, I actually think I could. But if you wouldn’t mind keeping me company, I’d love to have you with me?”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all, you know me. Eager.”

“Well then, shall we taste-test the fruits of our labour?” Ezra suggested, scooping up some of the dessert on his spoon.

“Great idea,” Anthony said, doing the same. “Three, two, one.”

Ezra put the spoon in his mouth and watched as Anthony did the same. It was everything Ezra had hoped it to be. It was light and fluffy, but rich in flavour. The bitterness of the chocolate, offset by the sweetness of the custard and the cream. It practically melted away on his tongue. It was beautiful. But not as beautiful as the man sitting across from him. He felt himself lean over the table, felt his hand seeking a smooth chin, felt lips finding lips and tasted the same decadence in the other man’s mouth.

[lovemesomerafael]

Best That You Can Do                       Chapter 5:  Reboot

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Read it on AO3

The next morning, Kaitlyn looks like hell.  Not worse than William Dodds looked the day after he’d discovered his son was alive, but nearly as bad.  She’s wearing her usual crisp, professional suit, and she’s made an effort with her hair and makeup, but he suspects she scraped all her hair back into the unflattering, tight bun so she wouldn’t have to fuss with it, and no amount of makeup can hide the dark circles around her sunken eyes.

When she comes in for their usual morning stand-up meeting, he asks her to close the door.

“How are you doing this morning?”  He asks, waving her to one of the chairs in front of his desk while he remains seated. His look and the tone of his voice are soft.  Concerned.

Kaitlyn doesn’t answer right away, just sighs and sits heavily in the chair he indicated.  Dodds just waits.  

“I think I was in shock last night.  Because now that it’s starting to sink in, I feel…”  She shakes her head with a grimace.  “About a million different things.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

“A little.  Unfortunately.”

“Sorry.  I should’ve warned you about the dreams.”

Kaitlyn just nods.  

“I really hate whatever fucking no-name agency did this, and I especially hate that they seem to know what they’re talking about with that manual.  It makes me sick to think that they have enough experience to know how to handle this shit.”

“Mike’s alive.  I don’t understand why I’m so messed up about that!”  Kaitlyn’s voice breaks.  She’s really not doing very well.  “It’s good news!  Why am I not just happy?”

“I can tell you why, if you’re interested.  I ended up having to take that little State Department weenie’s advice and see a shrink about this.  I’ll give you his name, if you want.”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  But the thing is, Chief, I don’t know if I’m ready to see Mike yet.  Is that weird?”  

“Not even a little bit. It’s why they don’t let you see him right away.  And if it makes you feel any better, that’s exactly how I felt.  Coffee?”

“No, thanks.  I’m not sure my stomach’s up to it right now.”

Dodds nods.  “Listen, you should know that he’s having his own issues with being back.  It’s not uncommon when you’ve been undercover, but this… this is a whole different ballgame.  So I don’t think you should plan on seeing him right away.  We just both wanted you to hear it from me before the news gets out. He’s still carrying a torch for you, you know.”

Kaitlyn actually grins a little at that.  “You’re relentless.”  

He grins, too, and shrugs.

“Can I ask you something, Sir?  You learned about this six months after they said he died, which is right about when you brought me back here.  Was that why?”  

“Yes and no.  I’d been thinking about it for a while, but I was ashamed.  I thought you’d be seriously miffed, and refuse to work with me again.  I honestly didn’t know how to fix what I’d done.  But then, when I learned he was alive, I just told myself it was as good a reason as any to try to correct my mistake in sending you away. Even if you didn’t know why.”

“I’m glad you did. Thank you again.”

“Don’t thank me.  It was purely selfish, and you know it.”

They share a quiet laugh, and William thinks Kaitlyn looks a little bit better than she did when she came in.  “Anyway, Mike’s working with a counselor, and she’s calling the shots right now.  It’ll be a few days, I think, before she lets him see anyone but me.  In the meantime, you keep just doing what you’re doing.  Work through it and talk to me.  OK?”

“I will.  But can you at least tell him I said hi?”  The hopeful light in her eyes almost immediately turns to doubt.  “Ugh, that seems so lame, nevermind.  I can’t…  Just forget it.”

“I’ll tell him.  It’ll make him happy.  He needs that right now.  Like I said, he’s struggling.”

 The next day, Chief Dodds comes into Kaitlyn’s office before it’s even time for their stand-up meeting. He’s grinning ear to ear, and he has a slip of paper in his hand, which he’s waving as if he’s getting away with something.

“What’s that?”  Kaitlyn asks suspiciously.

“It’s contraband,” he answers, full of glee.  “He doesn’t have permission to contact anyone yet, but he insisted, and he looked so happy about it that I agreed to smuggle this to you.”

“Oh, shit.  Is that… from Mike?”

With a ridiculous smile, Dodds hands the slip of paper to Kaitlyn.  It’s just a page from a small note pad, with a few words scrawled on it, but it feels precious.  Kaitlyn vaguely recognizes Mike’s handwriting from the countless birthday and Father’s Day cards the Chief’s displayed on his desk over the years.  She’s surprised to find that she’s shaking.  She’s actually holding a note from Mike Dodds, written the night before.  He’s really alive.  

I guess ghosts are supposed to say boo, but this one just wants to say hi back.  

See you soon,

Mike  

P.S. They didn’t give me a choice, but I’m sorry anyway.

Kaitlyn looks up from the note with a bright smile that’s at odds with the tears running down her cheeks. She stands up to hug Chief Dodds, who just looks smug.

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

Mike had actually come pretty close to learning what the U.S. penitentiary in Leavenworth looks like from the inside before he’d finally admitted that he wasn’t getting out of taking part in the operation the feds had abducted him for.  His rage at learning what they’d done to him and everyone who cared about him had been insurmountable at first.  It had actually hindered his healing for a while, until a guy with suits that made even his dad’s look cheap, whose rank Mike wasn’t allowed to know, had basically told him to sack up and deal with it.  After that, Mike had decided he might as well get on with it, since he wasn’t getting out of it.  

He’s always been good at undercover work, and following orders has never been a problem for him, so once he accepted his fate, he’d been all right.  He just tried to be the guy they’d turned him into.  He blocked out the thought of his parents – well, mostly his dad – believing he was dead and having to deal with all of that.  He tried not to think about his friends, either, although he did have a couple of morbid laughs at the idea of just showing up at Carisi and Barba’s door someday and scaring the shit out of Sonny.    

And that’s kind of the problem.  He hasn’t really been Mike Dodds for a year.  He’s intensely glad to be home, it’s just that it’s a little hard to feel like he’s home because he’d never seen this apartment before two weeks ago, and nothing in it belongs to him.  In fact, not much of anything belongs to him because, of course, his family got rid of everything when he died.  He doesn’t have a job, because he’s still sort of a secret until they finish putting together the plan to announce his resurrection, which is apparently a whole thing. He just wants this to be over, so he can be Mike Dodds again, whoever the fuck that is.

That’s why he’s been so grateful to get to hang out with his dad and talk about just normal shit like sports and what the SVU squad is doing, and memories from years ago that help him remember what’s real and what’s the lie he’s been living for the past year. It’s why he gets so excited when they let him sneak over to his dad’s apartment.  It’s the only place that feels even remotely like home, although he’s never lived there.  And it’s why he wasn’t about to take no for an answer when his dad said that Kaitlyn had asked him to say hello for her, and he got the idea to send her a note.  

When his dad tells him about her reaction to his note, Mike’s joy at the news is out of all proportion to the reality of the silly little exchange.  He’s tired of being cooped up in this strange apartment, with no visitors except for his dad.  He’s tired of not being able to work out or go running.  He’s really tired of being alone with his own thoughts.  He knows that’s a big part of his eagerness to see Kaitlyn, but it’s not the whole story.  Mike is certain that he was close to getting through to her before he was fucking kidnapped (they really hated it when he kept calling it that).  And he’s been pissed off for a whole year at being cock-blocked by the federal government.  

It’s a week before Mike is finally allowed to see Kaitlyn, and he’s started to think it will never happen. Everyone’s been told he’s alive, and they’re still in the time frame where they’re not allowed to see him, but Kaitlyn got the news early, so she’s ready.  Or as ready as she’s going to get.  He’s not at all sure what this is going to be like.

He’s had ten thousand fantasies about it.  She’s naked in a lot of them, but he’s actually not expecting anything like that, and not just because his dad’s going to be here.  The whole thing’s just so fucked up there’s no telling which way it’s gonna go.  He’s imagined tears and hugging about as often as he’s imagined yelling and face-slapping.

Kaitlyn and his dad are coming over for dinner.  He throws together some spaghetti sauce, adding some special touches he’s tried and found he likes.  He’s not much of a cook, but he figures everybody likes spaghetti, and the meal isn’t really the point, anyway.  

In a way, he’s kind of glad he has very little in the way of clothes, because that means he doesn’t have the option of worrying about how he’s going to look when they finally see each other. He just takes a shower and puts on jeans and a grey T-shirt.  And then he sits down to wait.  For as long as he’s been looking forward to seeing her again, it seems like another few minutes should be nothing, but that’s not how it goes.  The last half hour crawls.

*********

The Chief’s like a little kid, he’s so excited.  He’s chattering and smiling and hurrying Kaitlyn along, and it’s really annoying. Because she’s beyond nervous.  She’s sick with anxiety about what Mike will look like, and how she’ll feel, and what she’s supposed to say to a guy she treated like shit pretty much from the moment they met until the moment he died. Except that he didn’t die, and now she’s supposed to figure out the etiquette for that fucked-up scenario.

Kaitlyn can’t decide whether she’s glad Chief Dodds is here or not.  She’s a mess and she knows it, and hopefully he’ll be able to smooth things over if the wheels come completely off.  But she and Mike have basically jumped each other immediately each time they’ve spent any time together, so…  The whole thing is insane.  She’s been dying for this moment for a week, and now that it’s here, all she wants is for it to be over.  

They park in a dinky little lot behind a square, brick apartment building and Kaitlyn’s shaking legs carry her up four flights of stairs before the Chief knocks on a green metal door in an overlit, echoing cinderblock hallway.  

And then, just like that, Mike’s standing right in front of her.  His hair is longer, and he has a bit of facial scruff, both of which look ridiculously good on him.  His eyes, though… he looks like maybe it’s been a long year for him, too.  She’s imagined this moment incessantly since she learned he was alive, but she’s still surprised, because the one thing she didn’t expect is that he would still just be Mike.  And that’s the part that hits her like a freight train.  It’s like the last year never happened.  He’s just Mike, and she’s just Kaitlyn, same as they were the last time they saw each other.  

She thought maybe they’d throw themselves into each other’s arms at this moment.  Instead, they stand five feet apart and it’s awkward.  But only for a moment.  Because, suddenly, she realizes the ridiculousness of pretty much everything about what’s happened between them up to now, and she starts to laugh.  Instantly, as if he’s been trying to hold it in and she’s just given him permission he never expected to get, he bursts out laughing, too.  And that’s when they hug.  

In the few weeks they knew each other before he died, Kaitlyn and Mike had been plenty close a few times. But they’d never just hugged. Kaitlyn decides she’s glad about that. She’s glad she didn’t know how overwhelmingly good it is to be hugged by this huge, warm guy who smells like soap and masculinity, especially when he’s still laughing a little bit and she can feel it, deep and low in his chest, against her.  He’s big.  She’s forgotten how just plain big Mike is.  She’s standing on her tiptoes and she feels like he’s surrounding her.  She thinks hugging this man might just become her new obsession.

Kaitlyn can’t think of any words to say, and apparently Mike can’t, either.  Maybe there just aren’t any, or maybe there’s no reason to say anything.  So they just hug and laugh a little and Kaitlyn turns her head into Mike’s neck and just breathes him in, dimly aware of the lovely fact that he’s got his face buried in her hair.  It goes on so long that Chief Dodds is in the kitchen putting a pot of water on for the noodles by the time they relax their hold on one another.  They stand together, her hands on his shoulders and his on her waist, just looking at each other.

“You OK?”  Mike asks tenderly.

Kaitlyn huffs a little laugh.  It takes her a moment, shaking her head and making a face, before she says, “I don’t know what I am.  I just know how happy I am to see you.”

“You, too.  I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” She sighs.  “And I need to tell you I’m sorry.  About the way I treated you.  The things I said.  I screwed up, Mike.  And I don’t just mean because Susan’s all over the internet enslaving poor what’s-his-name.  I knew it before that.  I’m sorry.”

“You’re seriously apologizing to me right now?  When I made you go to my funeral?”  

“You didn’t do that.  You didn’t have any more choice than the rest of us.”  Suddenly, she’s holding him again, and he’s holding her back just as tightly.

When they finally relax and step apart a little, Mike asks if she’s hungry, tilting his head a little toward the tiny kitchen where Mike’s dad is trying his best to be invisible. It’s only then that Kaitlyn realizes there’s a wonderful smell of cooking in the air.  

“Spaghetti,” Mike says proudly.  

“It’s the only thing he knows how to make,” the Chief says laughingly, unable to stop himself.

“Spaghetti sounds good.” Kaitlyn beams up at Mike.  “And it smells wonderful.”

Mike starts toward the kitchen and Kaitlyn sees that Chief Dodds has a dishtowel around his waist for an apron and his shirtsleeves rolled up.  It’s kind of adorable, and she appreciates how discreet he’s been, letting her and Mike greet each other however they needed to.  She stands watching as Mike opens a bottle of wine and the Chief puts together garlic bread.  For a moment, she just watches Mike – the play of muscles beneath his T-shirt, the way his hair falls over his eyes just a little – and realizes that she hadn’t been romanticizing his memory.  He really is that good looking.  She realizes something else, too.  She wants him bad, but raging desire aside, she likes him much, much more than she ever knew.  

Mike’s poured three glasses of wine, but the Chief shoos him out of the kitchen and tells him to go get re-acquainted with Kaitlyn while he finishes dinner.  Mike doesn’t argue.  He takes two of the glasses and settles on the couch with her, then holds up his glass.

“What are we drinking to?”

“Hmmmmm.  Well, L’chaim seems appropriate, but maybe resurrection might be closer to the mark,” Kaitlyn grins.

Mike looks skeptical. “Uhhhh, I only know of one guy who did that, and I’m sure the hell not Him.  Let’s stick with L’chaim.”  

His words are light, but his expression and his tone tell Kaitlyn that, whatever demons he’s been wrestling with, the match isn’t over yet.  She decides it’s way too early in their reunion to get into that unless he wants to, and he doesn’t seem to want to.  So she changes the subject.

“How much are you allowed to tell me about where you’ve been?”

“Nothing,” he frowns. “Can’t tell you where I was, or what I was doing, and I don’t even really know exactly who I was working for, although I know they were the good guys.  All I can tell you is, I’m proud of what I was doing.  What we got done.”

Kaitlyn smiles at Mike. “I know Rangers don’t say ‘Hooah’, but it seems appropriate.  There’s no doubt in my mind you were doing something great.”

He’s so damn adorable when he blushes and looks down like that!  Kaitlyn asks what the Chief has told him about how things have been in New York while he’s been gone.  She finds some amusing stories about things his dad has done and said that he hasn’t yet heard, and she tells Mike how kind Sonny Carisi had been to her at his funeral. It’s skirting a tough subject that’s best left alone for a while, but it is a nice story, and he seems pleased to hear it.  

“That sounds like Carisi,” he says, smiling quietly.  “He’s a good guy.  I’m lookin’ forward to seeing him.”

“He called me, you know,” Kaitlyn tells him.  “The day the squad was told you’re alive.  He called to see if I was all right, and we spent half an hour basically saying nothing but ‘holy shit’.”

“He would.  He sound like he’s handling it OK?”

“Oh, yeah.  He was ecstatic.  Apparently, Barba practically had to breathe into a paper bag, and I think being there for Rafael kind of forced Sonny to just focus on the positive.”

“He’d do that anyway.  He’s never down for long.”

Mike reaches over and takes Kaitlyn’s hand.  “You look good,” he says softly.

“You do, too.”  Before giving it a thought, Kaitlyn reaches over and cups a hand over his cheek, rubbing it back and forth on his scruff.  “This works for you.”

Mike laughs.  “It’s actually not a fashion statement.  I just couldn’t be bothered when they won’t let me go anywhere.”  

“Now, that’s just rude,” the Chief says, surprising them.  Kaitlyn’s been so focused on Mike that she had completely forgotten he was there, even though he’s been bustling around the kitchen and he set the table on the other side of the room they were sitting in.  “You knew you were going to see Kaitlyn tonight.  You could’ve shaved.”

Mike dips his head in acknowledgement.  “I should have.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  I told you, I like it.”

“Anyway,” Chief Dodds says, “Dinner’s ready.”

Mike and Kaitlyn get up from the couch and make their way over to the table.  Mike is the first to notice.

“Dad, you only set two places.”

“I know.  I’m not staying.”

“What?”  Kaitlin exclaims.  “Why not?”

“Because I was only here in case things were awkward.  They’re not. And I was actually texting with Olivia Benson while the noodles cooked, and we’re going to meet at Maxwell’s for a drink. So you two are on your own.”  

He looks entirely too pleased with himself, but Kaitlyn can’t find any room in her heart to hold it against him.  Mike doesn’t look at all unhappy, either.  

“You sure?  I made tons of spaghetti,” he urges.

“Son, I’m thrilled to have you back, and Kaitlyn, you know I like you.  But I’d rather have a drink with a beautiful woman than hang out here and be a third wheel with you kids.”

Kaitlyn notices that he’s removed the dishtowel from his waist and rolled down his sleeves.  She smiles happily as she hugs him.  “Thank you, Sir.  For being here.  It helped me be less nervous.”  

Mike hugs him, too, and sees him to the door.  “Have a good time,” he says to his father, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“You too, Son,” the Chief answers, and he’s not teasing at all.

Mike and Kaitlyn sit down together at the table.  It’s far more comfortable than Kaitlyn would ever have hoped in her anxiety-ridden daydreams about this dinner.  The excellent wine the Chief brought and the surprisingly good food help.  

“Mmmm.  If you only know how to cook one thing, I’m glad it’s this good.”

“I can cook other things, that was just Dad giving me shit.”

“Really?  What’s your specialty?”

“Well, OK, my specialty happens to be spaghetti.  But I also make a mean baloney sandwich.  And no one makes better mac & cheese from a box.”

“Ooh.  So if this whole cop thing doesn’t work out…”

“Right.  I’m opening a restaurant.”

The rest of the meal is fun and easy.  They talk the whole time, learning about each other and laughing more than not.  

“You know what I just realized?”  Kaitlyn wears a complex smile.

“What?”

“This is the most you and I have ever talked to each other.  Before, we didn’t… do much talking.”

She doesn’t know how Mike manages it, but his smile is both a little shy and a little suggestive.  “I guess that’s right.  C’mon.  We can talk while we do the dishes.  I’m afraid this palace doesn’t feature a dishwasher.”

While they clear the table and wash the dishes, they talk about Mike’s plans to return to SVU and to choose his own apartment.  He has no idea who picked this place, but he doesn’t like it much.  That conversation leads to more somber topics, so that by the time they’re once again sitting together on the couch, sipping the last of the wine, Mike is sharing some of the things he’s currently dealing with.  Kaitlyn listens sympathetically, although she has no experience from which to draw any wisdom.  

“I wish I knew something comforting to say.  I guess once you’re back to work, and you have your friends around you again, less time to just sit around and think…”

“Yeah.  I know you’re right.  It’s nice just being here with you.  I mean, my dad’s great and all, but he’s only one person.  And he’s nowhere near as cute as you are.”

Kaitlyn is sure she’s blushing.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.  Anything.”

“Do you…  I mean, I know I messed everything up before.  I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to just forget it ever happened.  But if not, if you maybe wanted to…  Would you want to maybe go out with me sometime?”  

She can see he has to stifle a laugh at that.  “You sure you wanna be seen with a dead guy?”

“Well, if you start to, like, decompose, we’ll have to re-negotiate. But you look pretty good right now.”

“So do you.”

The look he gives her turns her insides to hot mush.  Kaitlyn has no idea she’s leaning over to kiss Mike until he meets her halfway and she finds her lips pressed to his.  But it’s a different kiss than they’ve ever shared before.  Slower, quieter, a destination in itself.  He doesn’t move closer to her, but remains sitting next to her, at a bit of an angle, with only their knees touching.  

“Yeah,” he breathes.  “I’d like to go out with you.  I’d love the chance to do it right.”

“Yeah.  No dying this time.”  Kaitlyn enjoys their laughter at that, but she kind of regrets killing the romantic mood that was building.  

Mike sighs and lays his head back.  “Shit, Kaitlyn, this whole thing’s been such a mind fuck.  I feel really adrift right now.  Like I’m half him still, and half me.  I know that sounds really stupid.”

“No. You’ve been him for almost a year. You had no contact with anyone who knows Mike.  It makes perfect sense.”

“It feels like shit.”

“What can I do?  How can I help?”

Mike takes a deep breath and lets it out.  “I don’t know.”  He lifts his head and looks at her.  “Hold me, maybe?”

Kaitlyn’s closed the space between them and scooted her arms around him before he takes his next breath.  “Like this?”

Mike doesn’t answer, just sighs with what sounds like relief, and wraps her up, softly but securely squeezing her to him.  

“Did I ever tell you how good you smell?”  Kaitlyn asks.

“Uh-uh.”  She feels him chuckle a little.

“Well, you do.  Really good.  I could hold you like this all day.”

For the next two hours, they’re together on Mike’s couch, talking quietly, bodies pressed together and arms entwined.  They smooch a few times, and Mike feels so good Kaitlyn really wants to start something, but she doesn’t.  She’s sure she could get Mike to cooperate, but it doesn’t seem like that’s what he needs from her right now.  He asked her to hold him, and that’s what she’s doing.  If he makes a move, she’s all over it, but just being close and learning about each other is really, really good, too.

Over time, they’ve migrated so that Mike is half-lying, with his legs hanging off the couch.  He’s holding Kaitlyn on his chest, her legs curled on the cushion behind his thighs.  She’s full, and warm, and comfortable, which means she yawns.  She feels him lift his head and look at her.

“You tired?  Or bored?”

Kaitlyn lifts her head, too, and meets his eyes.  “Definitely not bored.  I just worked all day, is all.  My boss is kind of a tyrant.”

“Sounds like a bastard,” he grins.

“He’s all right.  Gets me dates sometimes.  So there’s that.”

Mike smooths his hand over Kaitlyn’s hair, which she’s worn down because she thinks that’s how he likes it.  He sighs deeply.  “I don’t want to let you go home.”

She drops her chin to his chest.  “I don’t want to go home.”

“Then don’t.  Stay here, with me.  I’m not making a pass, I promise.  I just want you here.”

“I’d be OK with you making a pass, Mike.  But what I really want is just to be where you are.  I really missed you.”

Kaitlyn gives Mike a long kiss.  

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

Mike likes lingerie.  He likes it a lot, actually.  But Kaitlyn in his Jets jersey is sexier than anything he’s ever seen in a Victoria’s Secret catalog.  And the best part is, she seems to understand that he just wants to snuggle together. It’s been forever since he hasn’t slept alone – in fact, for a whole lot of reasons, Kaitlyn’s the last woman he slept with – and right now, what he needs more than anything is the pure, simple warmth and security of feeling her breathing next to him.  She’s soft in all the right places, and he definitely wants to slide his hands inside the jersey, but he doesn’t.  Based on the way she keeps starting to slide her hands over his chest, and then stopping herself, he thinks maybe he should have worn a shirt with the soft shorts he’s wearing, because she might be feeling the same.  

Mostly, he thinks she’s as happy as he is to be cuddled together in each other’s arms, and it’s not long before he falls into the quietest, deepest sleep he’s had since the day he was shot.

The morning is a different story.  They wake up with their limbs as tightly wrapped around each other as ever. Mike finds that his hands, of their own accord, have found their way inside the jersey Kaitlyn’s wearing.  She doesn’t seem to mind, given that her back’s pressed up against his chest, and she’s moving with him as he grinds against her backside.  Oops. He stops rubbing his half-hard cock against her just long enough to kiss the back of her neck where it’s right in front of his lips.  When she shivers and gives a soft moan, he starts again and moves his hands the rest of the way onto her breasts.

Kaitlyn slides a hand up Mike’s thigh to his buttock and turns her head enough that she can kiss him, although it’s an awkward angle.  Pretty soon, though, he’s fully hard and she turns around in his arms.  Their kisses this morning are much more intimate and intrusive than the night before. If she’d kissed him like this then, they definitely wouldn’t be wearing clothes now.  Which, he thinks, is something he really wants to change.  He reaches for the hem of her jersey and gets a jolt of electricity when she lifts her arms to help him take it off her.  Then he removes her panties and his shorts, and she moves to press the length of their bodies together as they kiss.

It’s different this time.  They’re moving more slowly, and taking time to make sure they’re making each other feel good, touching and stroking.  Mike pulls Kaitlyn on top of him and she moves against him, rubbing his body with hers, making sure to slide along his cock as she does, until he puts a hand on each hip and purposely positions her where he wants her.

She’s happy to give him what he wants, and she’s deliciously hot and wet, although he notices that she takes her time, working him in inch by inch, sliding up and down his shaft and taking a little more of him each time until he’s buried in her.  It’s the slowest they’ve ever fucked, and it goes on for a very long time.  After an eternity of her moving over him, he rolls them over and thrusts into her for a while, and they’re sitting up with her straddling his lap by the time they finally get serious about making each other come.  When they do, they’re looking at each other, with what are probably unconscionably gooey smiles, but it’s entirely right in the moment.  

Kaitlyn’s almost half asleep again, paying little attention to the way Mike’s moving because she assumes he’s just stretching, until she hears him speak.

“Hey, Dad, it’s me.”  There’s a silence.  “Good. Great.  But I’m afraid Kaitlyn’s not going to make it in to work today. Some kinda flu or something.”  

Kaitlyn’s eyes are open now.  

“Yeah, I’m sure she’ll be fine.  Probably a twenty-four hour thing.  Maybe forty-eight.  I’ll let you know.”  There’s another silence, after which Mike laughs a little.  “OK.  Thanks, Dad. See you.”

Mike touches the screen of his phone with his thumb and tosses it onto his bedside table.  He turns to look at Kaitlyn lying in the crook of his arm looking at him with an amused frown.  

“He says you’re fired, and he’ll see you Thursday.”

Kaitlyn thought she was worn out for the moment, but as soon as Mike starts kissing her and touching her again, she catches a second wind.  

[treasure-my-aurora]

One More Night. Pt 2

A/n: Link to that thing (tm) that Joong does with his brows, https://twitter.com/hongtopia/status/1170371146790817794 Fattest shout out to @Hongtopia for killing me in the best way possible.

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong / fem!Reader 

Chapter: 2/14

Genre: Mutual pining, canon compliant, fluffy af, angsty af, suggestive, teasing and filled with that good shit that everyone loves

Words in this chapter: 6115

January and my schedule was busy again. I’d celebrated Christmas with my family, and I was happy to be back with things to do once again. I’d followed Eunji like a lost puppy throughout the end of December and it didn’t stop after New Years as I listened and executed her every command while I finished the last pieces for Hongjoong’s wardrobe at the same time, making sure to stay out of his way for as long as I could. His voice from that day in December when he wanted me to stay still resonated within me, but I was hellbent on not letting it cloud my judgement.

It was the 4th and time for them to take their concept photos. I was there early, the sun not even up yet, my car full of clothes and accessories and I started to load out, found my way to the waiting room where I started to unpack. The only people present were some tech guys that prepared the lights and cameras and two people from a catering company that lined up one of the tables with fruits, drinks and snacks. Loud noises an hour later interrupted my peaceful mind and I stood aside as Mingi walked through the door, large confident steps while leading the group with boasting energy and what resembled the sort of chanting, you’d do at a game of sport to cheer the supporters on. Arms outstretched like he wanted to give the whole world a good morning hug, only to basically jump into Yunho’s arms when he saw me standing in the corner. Looking at me like he’d just seen a ghost,

“Noona, you scared me. All of the others won’t be here for another hour” he exclaimed slightly offended and very embarrassed that I’d seen him, usually so cool and chill (at least around us noonas, his members was another story) curled up with his over 1,8 cm tall body, completely prepared to meet his maker. He detached himself from Yunho who was not even trying to hold his laughter and the other members pushed through the door to see what was so funny. I met Hongjoong’s surprised eyes where he stood, half hidden behind Seonghwa and I wet my lips when my breath hitched from not having seen him for close to two weeks. They all bowed slightly as they welcomed me back together with them and I bowed back, smiling. I’d missed their energy, their boyish humour and bouncing laughter.

We chit chatted about what they’d done over Christmas and New Year’s and soon enough Eunji arrived. She gave me a look of appreciation when she noticed that I was there already and prepared to start the day and I felt my heart swell with pride when she looked over Hongjoong’s clothes and gave me a smile that gleamed with satisfaction.

“Well, you know what to do… let’s get started” she said and motioned for Hongjoong to separate himself from his members.

He nodded shortly, his tongue flicked out between his lips and my heart flipped in my chest when he met my eyes under long eyelashes. I grabbed the clothing rack without a word, steered past the boys and wheeled it out of the room, knowing without looking that he followed in my steps towards a dressing room a few doors down. It was a plain room, mirrors and chairs on one side of it and a sofa with a table on the other and I placed the rack between them, inhaled sharply when the door shut and the clicking noise of the lock echoed between us. I turned around, the nervous butterflies in my belly made me feel slightly sick and I swallowed deeply when I finally met his eyes again. He’d held his promise with the mullet, the straightened hair reached past his shoulders. I recognized the shirt he was wearing. It was one of his favourite private ones and my stitches could be seen at a place where it always seemed to unravel. This time it wasn’t any difference and I made a mental note to use my sewing machine the next time, hopefully but not likely extending its life expectancy for a few more months. My eyes lingered at his chest. It was puffier since the last time I'd seen him, his shoulders bigger and arms filled out the shirt better… had he been working out since I last saw him?

“I missed you…” he exhaled and pushed me out of my distraction. Voice deeper than normal, like he was unsure of how I'd react. Maybe he thought that I was going to walk away again, and for a second I wanted to, almost stumbled from the impact as the gentle words pierced my heart like an arrow and I bit my lip, holding in a sigh at his words. I contained myself, refused to tip over an edge that could ruin me. My head cocked to the side slightly when I looked at him and I didn’t know if it was because I hadn’t seen him in a while or because I felt more comfortable in my job, knowing what to do and say by now to keep the well-oiled machine of management rolling, but damn… he looked good. Had he always looked this good? It was as if I hadn’t let my eyes linger for more than a few seconds these past months and now, I was clearly checking him out, noticing small details that I’d never seen before.

“I missed you too... “I started and tore my eyes away from his body, “I’ve missed all of you” I added quickly, and he nodded slowly, a disappointed look shadowed his face when I included his members.

I bit down on my lip and tried to get back to the point of why we were standing in front of each other, “Let’s get started, undress for me please” I said and fought to keep my voice as natural and normal as I could when I could see his Adam’s apple bop from gulping and he paused his movements for a second or two before he reached back to pull his turtleneck over his head and I bit my tongue to prevent a gasp from escaping.

I’d worked with people for years now, and naked bodies wasn’t something that made me blush any longer. They were a canvas, my clothes were the paint, and together they created a masterpiece but somehow, this time, it was different, and I felt my cheeks flush. I’d never actually seen him like this, I started working specifically for him after their wardrobe for the first era was finished and since I was more in the last department of touching up rather than the preparations, make-up, dress up and styling, a situation like this one had never been close to occurring.

“Noona?” His voice broke through and my breath hitched when I realized that I’d been staring.

I focused on the first piece of clothing on the rack and gave it to him without meeting his eyes.

“Aren’t I supposed to take off my pants as well?” he asked and I swallowed, suddenly nervous at his confidence and I hoped that he didn’t notice my awkwardness too much,

“Yeah, of course, sorry” I mumbled, my gaze strained at the floor and I fought the feeling of wanting to run away.

“I know you’re quite shy noona… but I would’ve never guessed you to be this prude” He chuckled and my brows furrowed as I looked up again, my mouth opened to protest and I paused, manually shutting my mouth again because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of my surprise.

He looked like a dream, standing there in just his underwear. Body thin but strong with lean muscles and I swallowed hard, my mouth dry, butterflies exploding in my stomach and my heart racing as I took a shaky inhale before meeting his amused eyes.

“I… I’m not prude… it’s just… it’s been a long time since… “I trailed off, embarrassed but didn’t had to finish my sentence.

He gulped, nodded slightly like he knew what I talked about but couldn’t relate much and I wondered if the “no-dating” policy involved sexual encounters as well because if that was the case… I felt my stomach jump with excitement as the sudden familiar feeling of arousal pooled into my core and I felt my heart skip, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the blush that crept down my neck. He shamelessly revelled in my attention though, body flushed red from my intense stare but he held his stance and I wet my lips, seeing how his eyes flicked down to look at them when I did so and my stomach did somersaults as he looked away just as quickly, a blush covering his cheeks. The air surrounding us suffocated me and I remembered what the man had said during my interview three and a half months ago; ‘any sort of involvement, be it romantically or sexually with your designated clients will lead to your immediate termination’

I swallowed, broke his gaze and threw a pair of pants in his direction, “Put on your clothes, we don’t have all day”

He caught them and his face fell, a blow to his ego when I didn’t react as he hoped. He looked away as the feeling of failure made his cocky attitude shed its layers and he almost became embarrassed as he buttoned up the pants, and I felt a sting regret, but I had to ignore it. The feeling between us, what’d just happened, was dangerous and it shouldn’t happen again.

It couldn’t happen again.

-

The location for ‘HALA HALA’ was cold and uninviting. I stood in the warehouse with a big fluffy jacket, a sweater underneath but still shuttered slightly in the early morning. The hour lingering on the edge of still being night-time.

“How do I look?” Hongjoong asked and did a small twirl. The dark clothes and chains clashed with his sweet smile and I shook my head,

“Terrifying” I tried to say with a blank face but his aegyo made a smile tug at the corners of my mouth anyway.

He wiggled his brows, the sweet smile turned playful and he raised his hands, curled his fingers into claws and growled, but it sounded more like an angry kitten than a ferocious beast. A look that quickly changed the moment the music started and he turned into another person, not the cute and gentle Joong, but Hongjoong, the leader, musician and performer and my breath hitched and I actually took a step backwards when he came staggering towards me afterwards, hot breath coming out in white puffs of cold crystallized steam. I swallowed, almost intimidated when the large presence he emitted didn’t match his body. That was of course until he removed the facemask and let out a small “I’m cold” While curling up on himself and huddled close to the person who immediately rushed forward with hot packs.

-

Days passed and me and Hongjoong hung out like we usually did, in his studio or in my office. Not exactly talking but just enjoyed each other's company, the other usually on their phone answering emails and interacting with fans. I avoided what had happened a few days ago in the dressing room like the plague and he didn’t bring up anything either. I felt awkward, not knowing if he’d felt the same as I’d done or if he just found my sudden distance from him to be weird and to be honest, I dreaded both possibilities equally. The time for their comeback stage came and the procedure repeated except I held up a shield of professionalism this time, not even staggering every time he had to change an outfit, kept eye contact with me as he pulled his shirt over his head and let his pants pool at his ankles. I fixed his clothes without a word, added the accessories to his body with him looking at me from underneath his straightened fringe. Didn’t react when his body flinched with surprise as I rolled the lint remover over his chest and stomach, coming dangerously close to his crotch. His hand grazed over mine at one point and it was an innocent gesture, we’d known each other for three months now, basically working on top of each other, having had meetings with the CEO in our finest costumes and also chatting together in the studio, watching pirated movies on his computer in basic soft oversized clothes and talking about new concepts, our hopes and dreams.

I could see him hurting, wondering what he’d done wrong, but I couldn’t answer him, couldn’t explain that the reason why I was keeping him at bay was because I could feel myself falling for him, maybe not necessarily in love but falling in affection non the less, for his charm, his sweet words… and I couldn’t allow that to happen. I lived my dream, working with a company and a group that, according to the numbers, would be the next big thing. Thousands upon thousands of fans was going to look upon them, look upon their leader and it was my job to make sure that he’d not only look good, but strikingly gorgeous. Unreachable, absolutely stunning and perfect, like a God.

-

The rest of January flashed passed in a blink of an eye, time moved quicker now when every minute counted as we flew back and forth, made sure that everything ran smoothly.

I slept and ate when I could, broke down for thirty seconds alone by myself when the stress that abused my body became too much and cursed myself daily when I stabbed myself with a needle or I accidentally broke an accessory when putting it in place on Hongjoong’s clothes because I was shaking too much from anxiety and lack of sleep. He often took my hands in his then, my breath hitched every time he did so and told me to breathe with him, that I was doing an amazing job and I felt my jaw tensing when I met his eyes. Sometimes with the beautiful natural brown I was used to and sometimes I would feel my heart skip, when lenses clouded them, and a soft grey would be there instead.

I hated the stress, the pain and the misery but at the same time I lived for the moment when it all calmed down and the fans screamed as the boys went on stage. Taking deep breaths in rhythm of the music, feeling how my heart swelled with pride as Hongjoongs rapping flooded the stage, endorphins spreading the serotonin in my brain like a drug when I met his hooded eyes after the performance, tongue flicking out to wet his dry lips as his hair stuck to his forehead and sweat dripped from his chin.

…….

Stages, fan signs and interviews filled the first two weeks of February as well and it wasn’t until the 13th that I felt like I could take a breather. They recorded a log and me and the other styling noonas sat huddled together on a large sofa at the other side of the room, all with our phones in our hands, writing out schedules, mind maps, creating outfit changes and answered emails.

The boys made chocolate and the sweet smell of it filled the room, making our stomachs grumble. I looked up from my phone, distracted as Wooyoung started to talk with great compassion about how Valentine’s Day originated, my eyes flicked involuntarily over at Hongjoong, and I felt how my heart skipped a beat when he met my eyes, hands resting on the chocolate bar moulds in front of him and eyes twinkling behind the translucent glasses. He gave me a small smile, barely noticeable behind the face mask and I smiled back before going back to my phone, hoping that no one had seen the interaction and read anything else behind it than just a friendly exchange.

He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder when they were finished with the chocolate and the log wrapped up and the styling noonas quickly left, their schedule slightly different from mine, and I turned around surprised.

“Can I talk to you later noona? It’s about one of my outfits”

I nodded, a bit unsure of why he couldn’t just speak to me about it right now so that I had more time to fix an eventual problem but I complied and answered, “I’ll be in my office all afternoon” and he gave me a smile that reached his eyes, teeth pearly white and I turned on my heel to quickly walk out as my heart beat hard in my chest.

He showed up an hour later, and I stood up, ready to receive the clothing item but his hands were empty, and I must’ve looked surprised because he locked the door behind him, the clicking sound of it made me flinch.

“I just needed an excuse to talk to you” He said, not looking at me and talking with a pout on his lips.

My eyebrows rose and I crossed my arms over my chest, slightly pissed that I took time out of my schedule to fix something that apparently wasn’t broken and he pushed himself off the door he’d been leaning on, making me inadvertently take a step back as he got closer.

“I wanted to apologize. I don’t know what I’ve done and, to be honest, I’ve been too busy to even ponder on it but you’ve been acting strange for a month now, not even talking to me over the holidays and I didn’t want to bother you because I didn’t even know if you wanted to talk to me and I just…“ He paused, pouted, not knowing how to proceed and scratched his forehead, eyes scrunching, and I sighed as I suppressed the warm feeling that spread in my chest when I watched him. He reached into the jacket he wore and pulled out a bar of chocolate, one that he’d made earlier with the members, the edges were slightly melted from being hidden next to his body heat. He grabbed my hand and placed it there, knowing that I wouldn’t accept anything if he just reached it out for me to take, “I want you back, I want the noona I knew before Christmas. The noona I could kid around with. Who laughed so wonderfully at my jokes and scolded me when I messed up my clothes… I can’t stand the person you are now, you’re like a statue, emotionless when you’re next to me. I… “ He sighed, frustrated and I could feel his hands tremble slightly in mine, “I know that I’ve done something wrong and you don’t have to tell me” I opened my mouth to protest but he only grabbed my hand harder, repeating himself “You don’t have to tell me, you are different with the other members, laughing and being touchy touchy with them. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry” He swallowed hard and let me go, turned on his heel and walked out before I had the chance to explain myself. Normally I’d let him go, it would be easier that way, but I could feel the seriousness of the situation. Hongjoong was hurt and it reached further than just him being hurt because I acted a certain way at work, it was affecting our personal lives at this point as well and I feared that I’d not only lose the wonderful friendship that had developed between us but perhaps also my chances to keep working for him if I continued to act like I didn’t even care about him. So, I ran after him, and he turned around, surprised when I almost crashed into him, stumbling as he caught me in his arms, and I gulped when his fingertips seemed to burn against the naked skin of my arms. I dragged him into a dim corridor on our left, away from a few prying eyes that watched the spectacle play out.

“I should be the one apologizing. You’re right, I’ve been a selfish idiot” He opened his mouth to protest at my choice of words, but I placed my hand over his lips to silence him. I couldn’t tell him everything I felt, not even knowing exactly how I felt because I’d never taken the time to reflect over it. So, I decided on a half-truth, “Ok, here’s the deal… You look good…” His eyebrows rose like he thought I was kidding, my statement bold but somewhat stiff and I rolled my eyes, “Ok, more than good. You’re hot as hell and I’m incredibly and almost unbearably attracted to you, so much that it makes me ashamed. That’s why I’ve been having difficulties working with you”

I removed my hand from his mouth, and he let out a small laugh, “That’s it? You’re attracted to me?” He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what I just said before he added, “And here I was worried that you’d fallen in love with me or something”

I sighed, a tense smile on my lips as I cocked my head like I couldn’t believe what he was saying, my heart bursting into flames, burning it into crispy ash that filled my lungs and made it hard to breathe, “No, that would be ridiculous, why would I do that?” I said and bit back any sort of reaction that wanted to show up on my face because I absolutely did felt something for him… something more than just attraction. But the lie was smooth as rippling water and he bit his tongue, nodding slightly, the moment quickly turned from jokingly to awkward and I inhaled sharply, “So, now you know… let’s just… never mention this again… I mean, the fact that you look good isn’t really a surprise, but it definitely shouldn’t affect our working relationship so… “

“Of course,” He nodded again, a confident smile on his lips as he bid his goodbye. But I didn’t believe the confidence, mostly because I felt like I was going to be the one fucking it up.

-

I got my act together again after our small talk, our relationship improved slightly, and I tried to be more open to hang out with Hongjoong instead of just hiding away as soon as we had one minute over. The chocolate laid untouched in my fridge though, and I stared at it angrily every time I opened the door when we had two days off at the end of February. I paced back and forth in my apartment but didn’t do anything to break my nervous walking pattern as my head was up in the clouds with thoughts and ideas, going from my computer to the tv to the fridge and the drawing board before starting over again.

I decided to take a walk, hoped that fresh air would help clear my mind. It was a nice day, the air crisp and I could already see how winter took its last heavy breaths, birds chirping, and a soft glowing sun warmed my cold cheeks. Snowdrops were growing in the flowerbeds outside my apartment and I watched them with glee, happy to see the sign of spring. I started to walk, seemingly without a goal but my subconscious mind apparently wanted to fuck with me harder than normal when I realized that the house, I’d stopped at about half an hour later, was the boy’s dorm. Hongjoong seemed to be stuck like a leech on my brain and I knew that it probably shouldn’t bother me as much as it did. I shook my head and was just about to turn back, angry with myself when I suddenly heard someone familiar,

“Noona? Good morning, are you here to collect something?” Yeosang’s low but happy voice made me turn around and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. He was carrying two shopping bags, his manager quick on his heels, carrying two shopping bags as well and he bowed slightly when they walked up to me, bidding me a good morning as well. I swallowed, “No... I was just out for a walk, to grab some lunch…” I trailed off, not really knowing what to say to explain myself. I must’ve looked like a creep, staring up at their dorm without a plan in mind but Yeosang didn’t seem to think about it, happily inviting me to join them for a brunch instead. I figured, why not, I was already there, and I didn’t mind the company. The manager wished us a good day, knowing that Yeosang was back in the safety of his home and I reached out to take the bags he’d carried. I took off my shoes and hung my coat, already impressed with the space, excited to see the rest of the place and traced in Yeosang’s footsteps as we made it into the kitchen. I’d only seen it from the outside when I delivered packages or getting clothes that needed alterations. Yeosang gave me a small tour and Mingi and San soon joined us, happily showing off the large dorm and I giggled softly when San introduced me to his plushie dog, Shiber who he took with him every time they would go to a place that they had to spend the night. The food was already finished, brought from a take-away restaurant nearby and I helped to set the table. They all gathered around it and I was just about to sit down when I realized that we were one man short,

“Where’s Hongjoong?” I asked and the members exchanged a look among them, already digging into the food like they were used to him being excluded from group activities.

“Still working, as usual” Seonghwa answered, a mixture of pride and sadness in his voice and I stood up, abruptly and the boys looked at me confused, “It’s the one with the closed door” Seonghwa added quickly, bringing soup to his mouth and looked away like he knew that he shouldn’t intervene.

I basically jumped off the sofa, walked down the corridor with angry steps, enraged at the way Hongjoong was constantly acting against his members, more than often being so captivated in being a good leader that he sometimes forgot how to be a good hyung. I ripped the door open, stormed in and Hongjoong clutched his laptop tightly against his chest as if it was a baby he needed to protect, a small yelp escaped his lips when I glared daggers into him where he sat on the lower bunk bed. He swallowed when he realized that he wasn’t under attack and removed his headphones,

“Noona? You surprised me… what are you doing here?” He said, face flushed, and I tensed my jaw, not knowing how to respond, taken aback when I looked at him. His hair was a mess, large glasses covered almost half his face, lips dry and slightly cracked, pink from his constant chewing on them, like he always did when he concentrated on something. He let out a small gasp when he noticed my eyes on his body and he tried to cover himself up with his pillow, hugging it against his chest, only dressed in boxer shorts and an oversized top. The fact that he just sat there, looking so effortlessly good, having spent the entire night in front of his computer, eyes glazed with exhaustion, thighs red where the underside of the laptop burned on them, the room smelled of musky sweat and cologne and I wanted to scream at him, angry that he was constantly pressing on my every button. Pissed off beyond belief when my riled-up body pushed on the feelings I had for him, furious that I couldn’t tell him how much it hurt when he was picking away at my heart, making me more and more delusional every time I saw him, and just so, so tired of the way he was treating the people around him that it made me want to cry. He was selfless but, in a way, that he’d rather put others on pedestals because he didn’t want to stand there himself and therefore hiding away when others wanted to spend time with him. Not understanding how much people actually enjoyed his company.

“If you don’t get up and join the others, your members... the people you call family and have the meal that they’ve prepared for us, I will take your laptop with me, walk out the front door and you’ll never see it again, do you understand?” My voice was pleasantly calm, and I gave him a smile.

I would never take his laptop, of course. I knew how much it meant to him and how much it would hurt if he lost the contents on it, but the seriousness of my voice made him nod, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Five seconds passed and then ten and he still held the laptop in a tight grip, his knuckles white.

“So, what are you waiting for?” I said, getting more and more impatient and he took a shaky breath.

“I’ll… join you soon… I just need to change my clothes” he said, and I squinted my eyes at him but didn’t feel the need to stay if he understood that I was serious so I left and joined the others who avoided my eyes, probably scared that they’d get into trouble as well when my emotions already ran high.

Hongjoong joined us a few minutes later, smiling when the members shouted out a big welcome to him, they all scooted to the side and served him some food as well. I met his eyes, but he quickly looked away again, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips and I tensed my jaw, feeling my mouth go dry.

…….

It was March and the last stage of promotion for the second era. I was attaching Hongjoong’s jewellery and tried my utmost not to drool over his red costume. He looked unbelievably good and I had to bite my tongue when he let out a small gasp as I pulled on his belt, his body flushed close against mine with the movement and I fastened it, my fingers so dangerously close to where I wanted to place my hand that I felt myself sweating. The thought of just giving in to my desire and palm him right then and there in the waiting room with at least ten other people around us, made my cheeks flush and I avoided his eyes when they curiously searched for mine.

“You’re done” I said shortly and took a step back, but he gripped my wrist like he didn’t want me to leave yet. He'd been doing that more often these last days as we worked endless hours close together. His fingertips often reached out to softly touch my arm or hand without a clear reason as to why or gently twirl a lock of my hair when I worked on his clothes. I always avoided his eyes, scared that I'd give in and press my lips against his if I met them, feeling how my face flushed red every time.

I gave him a meaningful look to remind him that we weren’t alone, my eyes flicked out over the room. He followed my line of sight and quickly released me again, straightened out his clothes, gave me a final look under his fringe and then left me to rush out on stage, the fan chanting could be heard through the wall and I sat down with a sigh. I took out my phone, took a sip of my americano while I answered emails and tried my hardest to shake the suffocating feeling that weighed on my heart. A TV in the room showed a live feed of what the camera’s recorded and I couldn’t help myself as my line of sight moved up on reflex when the song started, my eyes not leaving Hongjoong for a second and I chewed on the side of my cheek as his part of the chorus started, him dropping his body before the iconic dance move with swinging legs and thrusting hips started and I quickly looked down at my phone again, flustered. I sighed and cursed at him for being such an ass.

“What was that earlier?” Eunji peered down at me with slightly upset eyes and I felt my heart skip a beat, scared that she'd read something into our interactions.

“What was what?” I asked, my voice almost failing me, and she motioned at the TV with her head.

“What he did before. He grabbed you… does he hurt you?” her concerned voice reminded me of my mother and I quickly shook my head while taking another sip of my americano.

“Nononono, he just… he’s fine, I mean, I’m fine… we’re both fine, we’re friends” I stumbled over my own nervous words and Eunji looked at me like she didn’t believe me but it would threaten our work relationship if she dug deeper into what I was saying so she just gave me a scoff and walked away.

The boys finished, jogged down the hallway back towards us and I stood up again, ready to help. They stumbled through the door, sweat on their brows and I congratulated them on a well-executed performance. I handled Hongjoong a mini fan and a bottle of water and he took it with a smile, his eyes rolling back slightly and his eyebrows did that thing I’d grown to love, but couldn’t describe to save my life when the cold air fanned his face and I swallowed hard to suppress a gasp at the lovely expression. He gulped down the water, some of it dripped down his chin and landed on his clothes and I tensed my jaw and gave him a look that spoke of my disapproval. One brow rose when he met my eyes again and he stuck out his tongue at me, knowing that water wasn’t worse than sweat and that my reaction was more based on his recklessness. He went to sit down with his members in a sofa at the other side of the room and Seonghwa soon asked for a video camera so that they could record a log. They talked about how much they’d enjoyed this era and was looking forward to have a break but that they obviously were going to miss Atiny as well, their fake crying made me giggle softly and it was as if Hongjoong had sonar hearing because he met my eyes and smiled brightly and I couldn’t help but smile back as my heart flipped in my chest. Seonghwa recorded Yeosang for a bit, praised him and I couldn’t help but snicker as they talked about the stage. Hongjoong rushed over to me and I felt my breath hitch in my throat when he came so close to me. His cologne hitting me in the face and making me dizzy.

“Are you finished with this?” He asked and placed his hand over mine, taking my americano away from me when my flustered state let it go and I was just about to open my mouth to protest when he interrupted me, “You’ll get it back” before he laid down on the sofa, a book that he’d been reading whenever he had the time, in his hands and he gleefully called for his hyung to record him as well.

I shook my head to their shenanigans and opened a bag of snacks instead while I waited for my coffee to come back. San joined with some beef jerky at the end of Hongjoongs talking, half joking and half bullshitting to the camera and I chuckled softly when he raised a piece of jerky over his head, flinging it back and forth like a 1800th century merchant who tried to earn a living. Hongjoong jumped up again and rushed towards me, just as Seonghwa moved the camera over to Mingi, dipped his hand into my bag of snacks, stuck out his tongue at me when I protested and then dove back into the sofa, earning a laughter from the styling noonas standing at the make-up table on the side and my heart swelled as he laid down on the book, using it as a pillow, my americano cold and forgotten on the floor underneath him.

[punkwhodrinkstea-blog]

Updates and Thoughts for the Future

Hello folks, it’s been a really long time since I’ve written anything on my ‘secret’ blog so here I go. It has been probably over a month now since I’ve done much writing and it actually depresses me. I have so much to write about and never enough time. Let me dive into the updates to my life with my reasons why. 

Since my last post on this blog, I started a Twitch Channel (under another name of course) and I have had a pretty steady schedule which has earned me very few views and followers but that’s okay. I’ve learned that so far I really like streaming. It could possibly lead to a career in gaming or gaming journalism or just living on donations from views. My fiancee told me about how people love to see happy, healthy couples because frankly, it's so rare these days. So I had her by my side for a few live streams and my views more than doubled. This has led us to believe that if I do all the main live stream and gaming work and she just shows up to play games with me that we would have a decent shot of getting a following. She and I are both quite good at making videos and preaching to the world so we are planning on giving youtube and Twitch a shot once we move out together. We can’t really give them a good try now because it is nearly impossible to have enough time make a steady flow of content and since we don’t live together she can’t always appear on the live stream. We both have jobs and work a lot and we are both saving up for school, we are still going to take the safer route of going to school and getting a ‘real’ job so we can afford to move out and get married. However, she is doing so well at her job she may put off going to school to make a bunch of money allowing for the moving out process to be easier and quicker. It’s very exciting. As of right now, Twitch is a very low priority and I can’t let it cause me to get sick or be in the way of seeing and helping my fiancee or taking proper care of myself. But most nights it’s not in the way of anything, but still, I have no need to aim high and do extra work right now to try and get more views, it’s simply a side hobby for now. 

Next up is my mental health. This blog was pretty much started due to my mental health and it was a major theme and subject for almost every post, but these days I hardly think about it. I don’t have any deep depression anymore or anything that lingers on for days, weeks, or months that haunt me. It’s gone and out of my life. I’m in a word, ‘cured’. Right now I’m actually more worried about my physical health because my new job is in a factory/warehouse place which has 7 am start time and 4:30 pm end times of full manual labor. It doesn’t help that I have allergies this time of year and they have actually killed my immune system enough to force me to take a sick day which is really bad. The only silver lining to this is that it gave me the time to write this blog post.  

As I said earlier, I haven’t gotten to do much meaningful writing, gaming articles, or even work on my book(s) I have 3 or 4 great ideas for novels and 3 or 4 ideas for short stories. The novels, of course, take a long time but I do think that I could finish a short story before school starts in a couple of months. Which leads me to my next point. I have a list of things I want to do before I die, but that’s a pretty vague list, I’ll just touch on the list of things I’d like to finish before school starts. I want to max out my Borderlands 2 character, beat Cuphead, Finish a short story, finish a semi-professional looking version of my Board game which is sorta done, just needs the parts to be 3D printed (that costs money so I have to wait), and I really want to beat Ghost Recon Wildlands Ghost mode. It’s a game I love and enjoy and since I don’t care much for many PvP games and I need an extreme challenge (because I enjoy beating difficult challenges) I thought I’d beat this mode, or die trying. I’ve been close so many times but something always goes wrong, usually, a glitch which is annoying. 

As for the future, I am going to be working my job until I start back at school in September and I might keep in for one shift a week if my fiancee and I think it’s a good idea which will depend on my school schedule and stress levels and how much time school proves to need. On the one hand, my life will be easier and nicer, on the other my fiancee and I get a bunch more money meaning more saving for our future home. Which leads to us moving out and getting married. That’s right folks, as soon as I finish College in April 2020 I am getting a job and as soon as possible my fiancee and I are moving out. We already have a couch, chairs, tables/desks, toaster, kettle, and a bunch of other things which I don’t care to write out. Once we move out it should free me up to at least have my evenings and nights to write, play games, help others and of course, be with my wife. We will likely be waiting 2-4 years before having kids mainly due to the fact that we’ll be in a small apartment or the basement of a house (and we’d rent out the rest of the house to someone else). Perhaps together we’d then work together to be successful on Twitch, Youtube and other online platforms which could even turn into our new job or at least one of our job’s. 

Being a successful full-time Twitch Streamer or at least a Youtuber is kind of my new dream job, its something I never really thought I’d ever want to be. But it would allow me to do lots of gaming and leave the rest of my spare time to writing, help others, doing other cool things and being with my wife/family. I know now more than ever that gaming will likely run through my veins forever, it is something I’ve always loved. Streaming gaming, and hopefully building gaming communities in the name of God is something I really want to do. I want to make the gaming world a better place through influence and passion. I’d get to let out my gamer side on a daily basis, be competitive, and do it all with my friends and hopefully my family. The rest of my life would be spent doing Gods work and hopefully writing a few books along the way and a few hundred more articles. (maybe make a few board games too lol)

My website is basically finished and all I am doing now is adding content. It mostly acts as a portfolio and a place for me to go when I need to remember what it is I do lol. I have a lot of hobbies so it is nice to have all my content in one place so when I don’t know what to do next, I can look there to remember all my hobbies and which one I should work on next. My fiancee has a very similar setup for her website and she seems to think of it the same way.

Anyway, folks, that’s really it for this blog post on this old retired blog. If all goes according to plan, next summer will be huge. I’d be moving out, getting married, getting a ‘real’ job, finishing school (for good), and hopefully starting a successful and fun Twitch and Youtube channel. Peace out folks and wish me and my fiancee luck on our future endeavors. 

*static sounds* 

[grandthorkiday]

Mob AU “Playthings” Part 4

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

“As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.” No one laughed. “Seriously?! Goodfellas! One of the greatest mob movies of all times! One of the greatest movies of all time!” No one spoke. “I will have you know that was a spot on Ray Liotta impression.”

“Not now, Tony,” Natasha Romanoff said from her position leaning against his desk.

It was midmorning the next day, and they were all packed into ADA’s office. Tony Stark, the ADA in question was leaning back in his office chair, feet on the desk. Since his joke had fallen flat, he had taken to staring at the ceiling. His partner, Natasha, fiddled with the recording device they had been listening to. Strange had recorded Loki’s recounting of the initial kidnapping before the young man had broken down and cut the interview off. Now, protectively, the psychiatrist batted the woman’s hand away from the recording as though it held some essence of the young man that needed to be taken care of. Val and Bruce sat side by side, Val’s old notes on her lap while Bruce had a condensed version of all the notes the department had taken over the years on Gast in his.

“Anyway,” the detective said as she picked through the mess of paper on her lap, “Loki and Thor both worked at Lille Melt.”

“Thought they would be able to go to college and not work.”

“Apparently Odin cut Thor off when he refused to go to live in the dorms. And I think he cut Loki off for refusing to go to Georgetown.”

“Father of the year.”

“Lille Melt is owned by a lieutenant in the Sakaar family. And it was a frequent destination for Gast until well about nine and half years ago.”

“Are you saying he saw the two of them and was like, ‘Yeah, that’s what I want’?” Tony asked.

“Basically, yeah,” Bruce glanced at his notes. “That place was and has always been filled with lower level thugs and their family members trying to make their bones. Boss could have expressed interest and a dozen of their coworkers could have started supplying him with information about them.”

“Why not snatch them from work then?” Natasha adjusted herself on the desk.

“Too many witnesses and sober Thor really could have held his own. So could Loki. They weren’t pushovers.”

[read more cut]

“So he waits until they’re off work and school, then takes them.”

“The technique is pretty common for kidnappings associated with Sakaar. What’s unusual is Gast being personally involved,” Val shufffled through her papers.

“He was in the old days.” Stark took his feet off the desk and pulled his chair up. “Back when it was his stepfather’s operation.”

“I remember hearing that,” the other ADA said. “Stepdaddy married Mommy for her real estate money and gave Gast responsibility for like some delis and restaurants that had bookie operations in the back. He made them legitimately profitable and expanded the nonlegit stuff as well. Drugs, girls, and gambling, get a good meal while you wait. That was the pitch. He basically bought his stepdad out of being the boss.”

“Oh there’s a lot more to him raising to head of the Sakaar family besides that, but yeah. The old guys used to say he performing mob beautification. Nowadays you’d call it mob gentrification.”

“Has anyone verified Loki’s account?”

“Fandral Dashwood. Roommates with both brothers,” Val slid a yellowing copy of her original notes and a more recent copy over the desk. “He says they went out, they got drinks, they went to Gast’s table. The group lost track of them for about an hour or so before they were told they left.”

“Who told them?”

“The bartender. Apparently Gast paid for their tab before he left.”

“How gentlemanly.”

Strange’s phone rang. He put his finger up to silence everyone and answered, professionally saying, “Dr. Stephen Strange, how can I help you?” There was a pause as he listened. He frowned slightly. “How is he reacting?” His frown deepened. “How long?” He looked around at Val and mouthed, ‘Loki.’

“No shit,” she hissed jumping up and pushing her papers toward Stark. Stark shook his head at the papers and Romanoff took them quickly.

“That was my assistant. Apparently Loki found a channel on the cage match in Atlantic City. And he saw Thor. And Gast.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t take it well.”

“Actually, he took it remarkably well. You would think he was watching his favorite television show the way it sounds. They’ve been unable to get him to turn it off is the problem.

Val and Strange got to the facility an hour later. Loki was still in the main ‘common area’, parked on the floor in front of the TV. He reminded her of a child watching a Saturday morning cartoon show: he was still dressed in his pajamas and he was clutching a pillow close to his chest. He wasn’t really smiling, but his face had an enraptured look as he looked at the screen. On the screen, Gast was being interviewed.

“You think it’s going to be a great fight?”

“I sure hope it is for how expensive it was to put on!” Everyone laughed. “But seriously, I do think it will be a good fight. We got the good ol’ crowd favorite, Groot. Love'em to death. Not much of a talker.”

“Not a peep, really,” Thor agreed.

“But he’s a good guy. Then you got ‘The Punisher’ over there. Oooh boy, is this going to be a fight.”

“Nothing nice to say about Castle?”

“He’s hot? If you’re into that kind of thing,” Thor shrugged.

Gast playfully pulled him close. “Naughty thing! He likes to play coy!” He kissed Thor who quickly deepened the kiss, moaning loadly as the Grandmaster’s hand travelled down to his legs and began to slide upward.

Loki whimpered, curling in on himself more.

“Hey now! We’re pay-per-view channel but it ain’t that kind of pay-per-view!” The host laughed, but made no move to physically stop them.

“Loki?” Val sat down on the couch. She glanced at Strange. He was analyzing the younger man’s behavior as well as analyzing as much as he could from Thor’s on the television.

“He’s not so mad anymore,” was the response she received. “He was so mad when he left. He kept saying he was going to make Thor stay in hotel room….and visit with people.”

“'Visit with people’?”

“They wear condoms, so it’s okay.”

She grimaced at that. “Maybe you should turn off the television.”

“I usually get to watch all of his interviews when we’re away from one another. I even get to call in sometimes,” he looked around hopefully. “I think I can remember the number. Can I have a phone?”

“No!” Val grabbed the remote from a side table and turned it off.

Loki gave out a cry as the screen went black, scrambling over to manually turn it on. Strange was faster and blocked his path.

“Nope! No more television for today. At least not until we talk about what just happened here.”

“All that happened was some FUCKING BITCH turned off the television!”

“New rule: no name-calling people are trying to help you.”

“Shut up asshole!”

“Already broke it.”

“Loki, do you remember what you talked about with Dr. Strange yesterday?”

That caused a change. The young man seemed to shrink and became suddenly fascinated with the fabric of the rug. He nodded slowly.

“Do you think maybe it would be wise if we pick up where you left off?”

Loki shrugged, standing up and swaying slightly. “In the office again?”

“Until I get in the habit of carrying around a recorder, afraid so.”

“C-can Val come with us again?”

“Of course. Whatever makes it easier.”

~2009~

They were unsure how long they had been down here, in the dark. The few people who had come by to look at them and replace the bucket that served as their toilet didn’t exactly come on a regular schedule. Nor were they chatty. They usually just threatened them if to not make an escape attempt, brandishing their guns at them. They hadn’t eaten anything in what felt like days. They had been given water, but only just enough it seemed. There was no blanket or material to make anything resembling a bed. There was a patch of the wall that was warmer than the rest, but it was close to the door. And the brutes had a habit of throwing open the door. Thor nearly had his nose broken once.

The door opened once more. The light behind it was so bright compared to the room they were in that they drew back, shielding their eyes.

“Ah, you are behaving today!” The voice was familiar. It sent a shiver down Loki’s spine.

‘Malcolm’ entered the rook followed by four men. He was wearing tailored pants and a ridiculous paisley shirt. He smelled of spiced cologne. His hands were in his pockets and he made a small gesture with his head. A fifth man entered, bringing in a chair before retreating out once more.

As he daintily sat and crossed his legs, he smiled. “My you boys must really be bored. Nothing really to do here. Well, there’s ah ha one thing I guess you can be doing here.” He winked and all four of the men laughed on cue. The brothers kept silent. The man sighed. “To business I sup-”

“You won’t get away with this!” Thor barked, trying to stand. The man nearest him pushed him back down.

“Rule one, sweetheart. No interrupting me. You wait to sp-”

“Our Father knows men in the FBI! And Police Commissioner!” Loki shouted.

'Malcolm’ sighed and rubbed his temple. “I didn’t want the to do this the first day.” He snapped his fingers and all four men withdrew handguns from their belts, pointing them straight at Loki. The young man cried out and Thor immediately threw himself over his brother.

“Hey now, nothing’s going to happen! Not if you both behave. I said, don’t interrupt me. So don’t interrupt me. Very simple. Now, do either of you know who I am?”

Again the brothers were silent.

“It’s okay if you don’t. My name is En Dwi Gast. Though everyone calls me by my title; The Grandmaster.”

Thor swore quietly and Loki’s eyes widened. Everyone in New York knew the Grandmaster.

“See you do know me!” Gast clapped his hands excitedly. “Now, I don’t really need for you to introduce yourselves. Thor Valhalla, oldest son second child of Odin Valhalla the famous attorney who has made his boned in the international diplomacy trade. And you are Loki Valhalla, adopted son of Odin. Your original Father was Laufey Jotunheim, who died as part of a peace delegation. Your birth Mother gave you to her friend Frigga before she took that last bow.”

“You can get all this from a Google search or day at the god damn library with an up to date periodical section,” Thor growled. He had waited until Grandmaster stopped speaking.

The man shrugged. “They said I was a lazy student in school.” He stroked his chin. “You two hungry?”

It was a surreal moment. He had asked like they were in the middle of an interview or had been visiting. It had been asked casually, ignoring the guns and the bucket of human waste in the corner. He stood and nodded. “Come on. Let’s see if we can’t fill your bellies.”

They used one another as a crutch as they were forced and follow him out of the room. They were surrounded by men with guns and they were too weak to really break free.

Gast led them to another room that had been set up with a folding table and three chairs. He waved each into a chair. He smiled eagerly at them. Sitting between them, he waved over two women with silver serving trays. In front of Loki they placed a bowl of soup, Minestrone, his favorite. Thor had been given a Monte Cristo. They stared at one another over their plates: the meal was a familiar one. They had had it before. It was the last lunch they had ordered when their Mother had come into the city to visit.

“You know, Frigga is a beautiful woman,” Gast was saying. He had been handed a folder and he was going through it, slowly and with exaggerated care. He took out a photograph and put it in the center of the table. Frigga, Loki, and, Thor were sitting outside a cafe, laughing as Hela moved to sit down with them. “I mean, you tell me she has kids in her twenties and I wouldn’t believe it. Good genes.” His eyes swept over Thor. “Good genes.”

“What do you want from us?”

“Right now, I want you to eat. Your hungry, aren’t you sweetheart? Eat something for me. Please?”

The meal tasted of ash and salt. But they both ate every last bite.

[real-fakedoors]

under leaves so green - CHPT 12 - Miraculous Ladybug

After the Dupain-Cheng family purchases a flower shop around the block from the Agreste mansion, Chat Noir frequents the spot in search of company from the manager-but-not-really Marinette. Beneath the mask, Adrien starts to struggle with how cute she looks in that green apron. (AKA: the not-really flower shop AU where basically everything is the same, but Marinette is extra stressed by her job and Adrien tries to be supportive)

Cross-posted on AO3 and FF.net

Chapter 12: A Needlepoint Peony

In which, Adrien stresses out, Marinette makes a confession, everyone is embarrassed, Tikki disappears, and Plagg fixes his whiskers.

Adrien felt, admittedly, a little bit strange.

Standing in his room with each corner dusted, polished, and achingly quiet, the place begged for the stasis to be broken. Not a sound stirred - not even the guttural gnashing of a kwami inhaling camembert, yet beyond his door there was an unusual bustle of activity.

Generally speaking, Adrien preferred for his room to have a bit of a lived in look; everything felt a little less hollow and empty if he asked the attendants to keep his bed a little unmade, or if he didn’t hang up a towel after a shower just so. Right now, though, he was the one actively scanning every surface for signs of disorder, ready to right any wrong.

He couldn’t recall any girls ever being in his room before, save Ladybug once or twice, but that had been during akuma attacks so it’s not like she had been admiring his DVD collection or cuddling with him on the couch.

At the very least, Adrien could say with certainty he’d never had his girlfriend over to the house, ever. He was only coming up on 24-hours of having a girlfriend, period.

So waiting, knowing Marinette was coming... it felt strange, definitely.

But it wasn’t bad.

“Are you ready yet?” Plagg called eventually, hovering down from the bookshelves and sporting a predictable scowl.

Adrien watched as the little kwami combed through his whiskers, and one of his tiny ears kept twitching. The behavior seemed conspicuous, considering Adrien had just been doing very much the same sort of grooming before getting dressed in fresh clothes.

“Wait a minute…”  The blond narrowed his eyes, and Plagg froze. “Are you... fancying up for Marinette?”

“Pff. No.” The kwami rolled his eyes and turned away, only making Adrien more suspicious. “That’s stupid, kid. It’s not like your girlfriend is coming to see me. Cat’s gotta look good for his own sake, thank you.”

Adrien hummed skeptically, but decided to return to the task at hand. The ebony nuisance in his life had been increasingly excited every time they went to see Marinette, and it was starting to seem rather conspicuous. Maybe it was just the tempting offers of cheese bread and croissants?.

Bouncing around his room, the tap of Adrien’s hard-bottomed shoes rang off each wall. He took time to inspect every surface, adjust and readjust the arrangement of things he had on his desk, and repositioned his desk chair to be perfectly squared up to the monitor.

Really, it was all perfect, so seeking mistakes was a wasted effort. It was just a deliberate use of time that distracted him while waiting for Marinette to arrive. Part of him wishes he thought to offer to pick her up, but the opportunity was gone.

So now… waiting.

Glancing at the wardrobe, Adrien pressed his lips together and approached the full-length mirror. In the Agreste home, formal was normal, and vice versa. He never really knew that wearing “day clothes” until the moment before he went to bed was unusual until he started visiting Nino’s, Alya’s and Marinette’s houses. There, he was free to walk around on plush carpets with or, when he felt especially daring, without socks; the concept seemed so foreign to him in the beginning.

That being said, his attire didn’t bother him - a soft, simple white shirt and a slate-colored overshirt, paired with a plain pair of navy slacks. He selected one of his pairs of well-worn dark shoes, deciding against any that seemed too dressy or that would need breaking in.

Comfort was a must.

He had plenty of support for their first date. Between the help of Alya, Nino and the others in pulling off the Attack of the Loam, his father’s surprising approval of Marinette, Chloe’s reluctant agreement to be nice, and knowing he was going to have several hours of resigned privacy with her had all worked wonders in boosting his confidence.

And, of course, there was the small encouragement he’d gotten from Marinette herself, considering she had confided in Chat Noir that she had some romantic interest in his civilian form. To use his superhero side to gain an advantage in pursuing her seemed a little unfair, like using a stimulant in a sporting event, but he couldn’t say he regretted it. One touch of their lips together had been enough to dash any harboring guilt.

And, all-in-all, the date had gone better than he could have hoped. Adrien couldn’t keep his enthusiasm contained, and when she agreed so promptly to go out with him again, he seriously considered cheering.

Yes, you absolute dork. We can go out again, anytime.

Her words undermined his typical faculties and reduced him to a twisted bunch of nerves. The mess that fell from his mouth came more in the way of reactionary instinct than rational thought, blurting his desire to have her as his girlfriend. Adrien hadn’t intended to ask her to be in a relationship so soon, but miraculously, she agreed.

Did she think he seemed adorably inexperienced, or like a anxious mess? Had he asked her too soon? It had only been one date, though they’d spent hours and hours together in the past week alone; that’s to say nothing of the past three years. How long do people in relationships usually ‘date’ before they were considered ‘dating?’ Why hadn’t he thought to ask Nino for tips on the quintessential final element to any date, the “walk her to the front door” moment? Why wasn’t there a manual for this? Had he seemed too eager? She didn’t feel pressured to agree, right?

Alas, there was no guidebook, no easy instruction kit. He couldn’t pick up “101 Ways to Ease Through Awkward Social Interactions” at the library, and there was no magical deity of romance or young love to pray to that might appear to him in a vision from the sky to answer his questions and grant him sage wisdom on new love or family dysfunction. The closest thing he had to that was a turephilic kwami, who was, at present, floating crossed-legged near his desk with an expression of irritation.

The jittery, fierce happiness that spurred Adrien on yesterday since been replaced by titular worries of the evening ahead.

First of all, they weren’t going to be alone, and he had only a few hours to prepare.

They were having dinner with his father.

He, his father, and his girlfriend, sitting around the dining table together.

The most uncomfortable iteration of the Last Supper came to mind, but he quickly shook away the inane thought.

Second was the prospect of dinner it self. Adrien hardly ever ate with company, let alone the aberrant match that was Marinette’s soft-spoken kindness and his Father’s critical, cutting commentary. What should they talk about? He could only hope the two would find enough common ground in fabrics and fashion to carry them through the evening.

Unwittingly, Adrien had begun to pace his room, the metronomic clap of shoes on tile providing a backbeat to his mounting anxiety. Plagg said something and the blond glanced up, but Adrien didn’t quite catch it.

When their gazes met, a random train of thought popped into his head. The kinds of question you never think of until you’re living through the moment. “Did you want to come in my pocket down to dinner?”

Raising a brow, Plagg tilted his head. “Why would I do that?”

“Er… you usually do? Most of the time it’s just you and me, though.”

“Oh.” Plagg tapped a black paw to his whiskers. “I guess I do, don’t I? Uhh…nah. You got this.”

“Something is up with you,” Adrien squinted his eyes at the black cat, who merely pointed his chin and looked away.

Adrien waged a finger at him. “Whatever you’re hiding, I’ll find out eventually!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his kwami insisted, flying away.

“Adrien?” A voice beckoned not a moment later, in time with three rapt knocks.

He did a final check of himself in the mirror, took a deep breath, and walked towards the door.

“Yes, Nathalie?” He answered politely, already knowing what she was going to say. Marinette was here, probably looking so lovely he’d forget how to speak. She could show up in her dirty work jeans and he still would swallow his tongue.

Just gotta relax.

It’s only dinner.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by his father’s assistant’s typically perfected posture and a small smile, but bowed besider her was head of black hair, half-pinned back to keep the tresses from her face.

“Mme. Dupain-Cheng is here,” stated the lean woman, stepping aside to present his guest. Every ounce of confidence he had as Chat Noir evaporated into a dizzying headrush when she peeked up from beneath long lashes, looking as flushed and as he was nervous. How do people on television or in Disney movies sweep girls off their feet so easily? Adrien could barely manage not to stare.

“W-welcome,” he cleared his throat, trying to focus on the woman between them who was scrolling through her tablet absently. “Thank you, Nathalie.”

“Yes. The chefs are saying dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, so come down soon.”

At that, she promptly turned and left them alone, her heels receding in the otherwise clipped silence.

Marinette looked more beautiful than he could have imagined - she was more than that, her whole appearance was scenic. A mid-length skirt skimmed her calves, pleated and pastel pink, making her look more sophisticated than her usual capris or work jeans; her torso was wrapped in a seamless array of breathable cotton, accented at the seams with white lace that complemented her porcelain skin like a subtly harmony to his favorite song. The top floated over her skin and stopped just as the skirt reached her waist, extending up and hugging her collarbone snugly. The neckline kept close to her neck, exposing most of her shoulders, though his attention was drawn mostly towards the careful embroidery in the center of the bodice. A sprig of hand-woven flowers, dyed in tones of subdued greens and gradiants of pink, comprised in needlepoint, brought the ensemble together.

Where she looked hauntingly alluring yesterday night in cuts of crimson and black and white stripes, today she seemed dreamy and pastoral.

“Is it… too much?” Marinette glanced up, brushing her skirt and picking at invisible loose strings. Blue eyes dodged away from his when Adrien met her gaze.

A little more quietly, she added,  “I didn’t know how… fancy to get. Sorry.”

“S-Sorry?” Adrien swallowed hard on his throat. He extended a hand, a careful and shaky invitation to step forward. She cracked a tiny smile and accepted.

The blond was already smiling, apparently, because his cheeks were starting to hurt. “How could you apologize? You look so… so pretty, Marinette. Did you embroider that yourself? It’s really amazing.”

Cheeks matching her skirt, she giggled and entered his room, eyes scanning the tall ceilings and giving him the chance to breathe. “T-Thank you! And, yes, I did. You look really nice, too.”

His heart swelled at the compliment, though he tried vehemently to seem casual.

“Thanks, just some of my Dad’s clothes. I mean - not my Dad’s clothes, but Gabriel brand.”

Marinette wandered over to the arcade machines, but paused to tilt her head in his direction. She wore a confused smirk.

“I… just tried to imagine you wearing your Dad’s… suit. The one he always wears.”

Adrien snorted, brightened by softness of her voice when she laughed. Somehow, it both filled him with happiness and anxiety, but it was enough to give him some foothold of confidence. “Ascots aren’t exactly my thing, I’m afraid.” He moved beside her and gestured to the classic systems. “I know you like Mecha Strike, but what’s your take on the current ‘retro craze’?”

“They’re great, of course. Though I’m not nearly as skilled as dodging barrels and saving princesses as I am at whooping giant robot butt.” Marinette said, poking one of her cheeks with a finger.

“I’d ask if you wanna play, but dinner’s soon and these are designed for one-player.” He rubbed his chin. “We could play some video games after dinner? I’ve got… uh, a lot.”

“Oh?” She seemed curious, so he gestured for her follow. They promptly ascended his twisted staircase and he brought her around to the bookshelf beside his rock-climbing wall. Divided by console and sorted alphabetically, he waved a hand at the hundreds of games he’d accumulated over the years.

“Holy brioche…” Marinette muttered, craning her neck to take it all in. Beside her, Adrien permitted himself to feel just a tiny bit proud of his collection, glancing at her wide-eyed wonder.

“The systems are downstairs in one of my closets, so, you know, we can pick out a few and play them after dinner. Whatever sounds good.”

Mutely, she nodded her head and moved to the ladder and squinted up at a certain section. Adrien followed her gaze.

“Nintendo 64? I don’t know why, but I took you for a Playstation girl.”

Already a few steps up, she murmured. “Actually, I mostly played computer games. I didn’t get to play Nintendo much growing up, I’ve tried a bunch of emulators, but they’re always a little sketchy… It would be so cool to play some of the originals. Like… Mario Party! Yes. You have it!”

“Pff, of course,” he said, amused by her enthusiasm. “I have them all, sort of out of habit really. I almost never played those.” Marinette snatched the cartridge from the shelf, handing it down to him. Adrien started a pile on the corner of an eye-level shelf for games to bring down later.

Humming as she selected a few more games, he mused to himself. “You know, growing up with just Chloe to play with, we didn’t spend a lot of time on video games.” He paused when Marinette laughed.

“Yeah, I know - you must be very surprised to learn that Chloe wasn’t a gamer.”

“I can hardly contain my shock.” She chirped back sarcastically, scanning the shelves. Adrien was about level with her calves, and tried not to focus on the bit of skin her skirt left exposed down to her honey-colored ballet flats.

He said the first thing he could think of to distract himself. “But - y-yeah. I mostly played single-player games, campaigns or adventure mode or whatever. Sometimes I would play games with my Mom. She liked them, or at least, pretended to since I did. She could even get Father to play them with us occasionally - but a lot of Nintendo’s stuff is designed with groups in mind.”

Marinette responded thoughtfully. “Hmm… I suppose it’s not much of a Mario party if it’s just… Mario.”

Biting his lip, Adrien knew this was uncharted conversational territory. Without compass or guide, he didn’t really know where to go when it came to talking about his parents.

Marinette, thankfully, took the task of navigation upon herself. “What character did you like to play as? In Mario Party, I mean.”

His brow arched, her hands still fluttering over the cartridges at her level.

“Hmm… that’s a good question. I always liked green, so mostly Yoshi, or sometimes Luigi.”

“Good,” she responded, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “I wanted to be Princess Peach, and I was prepared to fight you if I had to.”

Wearing a grin, he raised his hands in defense. “She’s all yours, Princess!”

Marinette stopped her searching, and Adrien’s eyes went wide.

Ooh. No, no, no.

His Chat side peeked out by accident, and Adrien blushed and stuttered to make up his mistake. “P-P-Princess… Peach! Yes. She, Princess Peach, is all yours. She was my Mom’s favorite too.”

Marinette’s brow had furrowed momentarily, but she seemed convinced by his explanation, and Adrien exhaled a small amount of panic.

“Okay, I think I’ve looked enough,” she said, starting back down the ladder. A shoe clattered to the ground in her descent, followed by a shrill squeak and a much louder clatter of skin and arms smacking into each other.

Marinette missed a step when her shoe came off, slipping back and crashing right into Adrien; cat-like reflexes can only get one so far with a girl as clumsy as Marinette.

By some small miracle, he didn’t get thrown over the railing, though his current posture was plenty uncomfortable. Leaning back over the glass ledge, the edge of the bannister pressed painfully up against his spine, Marinette’s body weight was basically crushing him further into it. The best he could do in the way of catching her was keep her head from smacking back into the railing or collapsing straight onto the floor. Her now slightly-tousled hair and exposed upper-back from the cut of her bodice were pressed up against him and she had half-bent and gripped her hands on his thighs in support to keep from hitting the floor.

Her perfume greeted him, rising from her silky smooth hair and bare shoulders. From this angle, he could basically feel every inch of her body pressed up against him, and he was aware of it in - ahem -  more ways than one.

Chuckling weakly, Adrien forced himself to put a safe, chaste distance between them. It was more difficult than it should have been, rather enjoying the way her hair tickled his chin as she scrambled to standing. It was easy to admire the smooth skin of her collarbone, or to appreciate the warmth that radiated from her body. It was like the world’s best, most beautiful blanket.

“Ooookay, up you go,” he said, supporting her from beneath her elbows and resting a delicate hand on her back. Her skin turned prickly under his touch, and it was stupidly thrilling.

You haven’t even made it to dinner yet and you can’t keep it together.

Exhaling slowly, Adrien affixed his face into a mask of sympathy and concern. “Mari? Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?”

She blinked several times, looking at her own hands numbly, and he started to fear maybe she had hit her head when she broke out into a smile. Wide, glittering, and plenty embarrassed.

“No - no I’m fine. Thank you, Adrien. I’m sorry I fell on you.”

“Better me than the floor,” he said, chuckling and sighing in relief. She joined him for a spirited giggle, both laughing until they were breathless and dizzy. Maybe that was just the intoxicating effect of being with her, though - Adrien almost always felt light-of-head around her anymore.

By the time they were both properly righted - skin tinted pink from the euphoric giggles that swept up both of them - and standing on their own, Adrien retrieved the stack of games Marinette had selected and led the way back to his ground floor.

“Okay, just the Nintendo 64 for tonight?” He noted the very distinct shape of all of the games, and she nodded.

“If… if that’s okay. I, um,” she fumbled with her thumbs, and Adrien thought it was adorable. “I figured we could… play different systems another time. You know, since we’re, um, together now…?”

She peeked at him, and Adrien positively beamed, walking across the coffee table and wrapping his fingers in her own.

“I’d love that. We’ll play our way through all of them.”

Eyes sparkling, a blue more vivid than any sea, she looked like the human iteration of the most tranquil night across France. Soft skin, a gentle smile, an exuberant mood, and dark, rich hair like a painted, starless sky.

Slowly, Adrien focused on his composure, inhaling through his mouth and letting out the air through his nostrils. “Ahh… right, so just to warn you - my Dad can sometimes be… um, abrasive. He’s sort of polite to the extreme, but if he says anything that hurts or offends you, don’t be afraid to say something - even if it’s just a signal to me or something. The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable.”

Marinette nodded a few times and scurried behind him out of his room, Adrien catching the eye of a jerkish kwami across the room as he closed the door. Plagg was sticking his face out of the camembert cabinet, puckering his lips and making his whiskers dance in the mocking display.

When he turned back to his - his girlfriend (it was still impossible to believe) - she was wearing a cute smirk and had a hand at her hip.

Marinette’s voice was low. “I did survive over an hour on Sunday with just me and him, or did you forget?”

“I didn’t, not exactly,” he grinned and led them down the stairs. “I’m just still not convinced it happened. A very thorough prank, perhaps.”

She snickered and rolled her eyes, the way she always does, and he loved it.

“I can barely walk in a straight line - you seriously think I could cook something like that up?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured as they approached the dining room, peeking his head in. His father was sitting at the head of the table, speaking quietly with the chef. The food in the room smelled heavenly, and oddly out of place. “You continue to surprise me, Mari.”

She pinked slightly, and Adrien pulled her into the room with a smile on his face. His Father stood up when he noticed them, and the chef gave a hasty farewell.

“Father,” Adrien said, palm feeling a little sweaty against Marinette’s. She untangled their fingers to take a bold step forward, positively radiant while she did so.

“Bonsoir, Monsieur Agreste,” Marinette greeted brightly, bowing her head politely. Adrien studied his father’s expression, hardly believing the small smile he saw there. “Thank you so much for allowing me over for dinner tonight. It’s an honor, sir.”

Posture rigid and hands folded behind his back, his father stepped away from the table slightly to greet them. “That is a kind of you to say, Mme. Dupain-Cheng. Or, would you prefer just Marinette?”

Adrien respected how composed she managed to be before Father, especially when his attention flickered down; her hands were shaking.

“Marinette is perfect, sir. Thank you.”

Feeling his heart squeeze slightly, Adrien couldn’t pass the chance to half-tease, half-compliment her. He sidled up beside her again, wrapping a careful arm around her waist and met her startled stare with a cheeky smirk.

“Marinette is perfect. You’re definitely onto something there.”

She turned the color of her Banks’ roses and ducked her head, and Adrien’s attention returned to his father. Aside from a raised brow, his expression appeared only amused.

This is so weird. Adrien thought, wrinkling his nose. But good.

“Well, if you are ready to eat…” His father gestured for them to sit, and Adrien almost turned back to the other end of the table for his usual spot. Marinette was too quick, though, and she started to sit down two seats from his father. The middle spot was clearly intended for him.

Settling into the chair, Adrien pursed his lips and looked down at their plates. Everything was, of course, perfect. The table had been perfectly prepared for a classic four-course meal, and it almost made him want to roll his eyes - he’d have to remember to mention to Marinette this was not a typical dining experience at the Agreste house.

It was sort of sweet, though, as he examined the varieties laid out for the first course. Each serving was small, from the Tapenade Noir a la Figue and Pissaladiers to the Brandade de Morue au Gratin. The fact that his father had gone through the trouble to entertain Marinette - to make such a gesture of meeting his girlfriend, formally? It brought an appreciative smile to his lips.

Scratching his cheek, Adrien popped a tart in his mouth and thought about something to talk about.

“So… did Marinette mention to you that she makes clothes?” He asked his father, and he could see Marinette fidget in his periphery. She hastily shoved some of the potatoes in her mouth.

Raising both brows, his father looked at Marinette and then back to Adrien. “Well, no, not exactly. Though I figured as much - she was most helpful the other day with a design of mine.”

“Oh yeah?” Adrien turned to Marinette, whose gaze flickered up to him helplessly. She looked so cute when she was embarrassed, he found her hand under the table and squeezed it in reassurance.

“She made the outfit she’s wearing right now. Isn’t is incredible?” He grinned at her, at least having enough mercy to blush.

“Adrien!” She hissed, turning even redder. “It’s - it’s not much, really. Just something I threw together, heh, since I work with flowers all day. Not really original. Nope. I’m sure you get inspiration from much more interesting things.”

His father smirked and ate quietly, watching them carry on like he wasn’t even there.

“Don’t be modest, Mari. You’re really talented.”

“I… I just dabble! That’s all. R-really.”

“Let’s be honest,” Adrien said, turning slightly to better face her. She was pouting, cheeks stuffed with figs and bread. “Do you just dabble in anything? You’re basically an expert in flowers, baking, and fashion, and you could ruin just about anyone’s self-confidence playing Mecha Strike.”

“Adriennn...” She covered her face with her hands, voice squeaky. All he could do was laugh, feeling a little guilty for flustering her, but he couldn’t help gushing about her.

“How did you get interested in fashion, Marinette?” His father cut in, and Adrien practically flew back in his chair. He had almost forgotten his Dad was beside him.

She lowered her hands, still red as a tomato, and reached for her cup of water.

“I… um… I’m not sure, actually. I’ve always liked drawing and designing,” she began slowly, and Adrien used the chance to catch up on his appetizers.

“When I started to pay more attention to how other people dressed, I sort of just… decided to teach myself to sew. I didn’t like the way other clothes fit me. I’m sort of on the short side, like my mother, so anything that fit me looked too childish while everyone else started to grow, I guess, and anything I liked was too big.” She hummed momentarily, chewing a tart. “So I decided to make things I knew I would be comfortable in, and reflected me best.”

“That’s very utilitarian of you,” his father commented. Marinette blinked, apparently unsure if that was a compliment or not.

Adrien decided then to jump in. “What’s your favorite thing to design?”

They both answered, which surprised him.

“Dresses.”

A pause, and the chef came out to switch their course for the main course. Adrien hardly paid attention while the plates changed, too interesting in the curious turn in conversation.

“And why is that, Marinette?”

“Uhh…” she cleared her throat. “Well… I’m not sure, actually. Probably because they’re the hardest to design; it’s extra rewarding when you get it right.”

“Hmm. I find menswear more challenging, personally,” his father mused, rubbing his chin. “But I do see your point. To me, a gown is a perfect canvas - the rules are only that it must be a single item to be worn, but otherwise, there are no limitations.”

“It’s the definitely the thing I have to try the hardest to be creative with,” Marinette replied with a furrowed brow, nodding. “The fact that it’s so flexible is what I find challenging about it.”

They both ruminated on that while stopping to eat some of their meal, and Adrien felt much more relaxed for how easily the conversation was flowing. Of course, Marinette was so sweet - it was hard to resist a charming, intellectual conversation with her, but it was still bizarre to see it have an effect on his characteristically stoic father.

Adrien caught her eye as she dabbed her lips with a napkin, so he decided to shoot her a wink. Marinette scrunched her nose up in response, her wordless disapproval downright adorable.

“So, if I am remembering correctly,” his father said after a pause. “You both met in Mme. Bustier’s class, at Francios Du-Pont Academy?”

“Yes,” Adrien said, tilting his head. “Although we sort of got off on the wrong foot.”

His father seemed surprised. “Oh, and how’s that?”

Adrien deferred to Marinette to answer. “Well…”

She got his meaning, chewing her food and swallowing. “Yeah, it was kind of my fault. I thought, because he was friends with Chloe, he was trying to pull a prank on me. So I sort of gave him the cold shoulder, but I realized I was being unfair to him.” Scowling, she glanced over to the blond. “I still am sorry about that, by the way.”

“Don’t be,” Adrien shook his head. “I could see why Chloe’s association might have not painted me in the best of light.”

Marinette smiled kindly, the gesture reaching her eyes.

“Well, I am glad to hear you reconsidered your assessment of my son. He was very nervous when he expressed interest in taking you out for a date.”

Almost kicking the table, Adrien turned an impressive shade of scarlet. “F-Father! Please.”

Marinette giggled at his distress, hiding a wide smile behind her fingers.

Despite his plea, his father didn’t hold back. Instead, he tucked both hands under his chin and leaned back slightly in his chair.

“Now son,” his father said, chuckling. “There are a few crucial things I am responsible for as a father. Embarrassing you in front of your girlfriend is one of them. I’ve had stories saved in my back-pocket for years.”

Practically bouncing in her seat, Marinette’s hair danced around her shoulders. “Oh, I’d love to hear a story!”

“Noooooo…” Adrien groaned, and now he was the one to cover his face with his hands. “Why did I agree to this?”

Slyly, Marinette took one of his hands and patted it gently. “There, there. It’s only fair after all of the puns I’ve suffered because of you.”

The remainder of the meal passed with more cheer than Adrien could have imagined, Marinette being positively tickled by his chagrin. Several of the stories recounted his mother, a few of which Adrien had forgotten himself. A small part of him was feeling grumpy for being the butt of the joke, but the overall mood was too infectious, and to see his father smirk and laugh occasionally was a refreshing change. Adrien, resigned to his fate, let himself enjoy the food and tease along until dessert was served.

Marinette sighed after a particularly airy wave of laughter. “Aww, so you and Chloe would play dress up?”

She put her hand on his shoulder and rested her chin there, pseudo-pitying him.

Adrien pointed his own chin forward while their plates were taken away so dessert could be brought out, fighting to hide a smile. She looked so pretty, perched on his arm like that.

“Yes, as a matter-of-fact. I mentioned Chloe didn’t like video games, and growing up in a literal fashion house granted a great opportunity for fun when it comes to clothes. Mother would encourage it, if I recall?” He partially asked the question to his father, who sighed and nodded, looking absently at the chandelier.

“Oh yes. If your mother wasn’t modeling the clothes, she was putting them on you. Large boas, daring furs, expensive heels - anything and everything you wanted to put on, she would let you pick it out and model it on the runway in my office.”

Marinette bit her tongue and tried not to laugh, though it was in vain, and he felt himself redden slightly. Trying to brush off the embarrassment, Adrien remarked, “Well, I suppose I can make anything look good.”

“Definitely,” she replied with a dreamy smile, leaning probably a little closer than was appropriate with his father present, and they broke apart when the chef re-emerged from the kitchen.

“Well,” he announced, clapping his hands. “We had only planned for the Crème brûlée, but since Mme. Dupain-Cheng was so kind to bring Pain au chocolat, the kitchen is pleased to serve both this evening.”

“Thank you, that will be all,” his father replied briskly, and the man bowed and brought out the two choices. Each looked picturesque, like the sort of desserts one might see on a classic French cookbook, and Adrien was glad to have eaten light on the earlier courses.

“I didn’t know you brought anything,” Adrien directed the comment to Marinette as he snatched up the Pain au chocolat almost the moment it was presented on a humble gray platter. It seemed out of place from the rest of the meal’s china, so he assumed it belonged to the bakery.

“Maman and Papa insisted,” she replied shyly, tapping the top of her Crème brûlée with a spoon. It granted her a very hard, satisfying knock in return before cracking. “And really, it’s the least I could do. I didn’t expect such a meal. Thank you, Monsieur Agreste, Adrien.”

Trembling fingers patted around the edge of his chair, clamping down when they found his hand. Adrien rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumb.

“It’s a pleasure having you, Marinette.” His father answered.

“Oh, this is so good,” Adrien spoke with his mouth halfway full, and two sets of eyes rolled at him.

“Manners, son.”

Hastily chewing, he managed a sheepish grin towards his father. “If you try the Pain au chocolat, you’d know it defies etiquette.” He cleared his throat. “But Father is right - I’m glad you agreed to come over, Mari. This has been so nice.”

Even though she ducked her head, hair partially obscuring the soft features of her face, he could still see the rosy hue that colored her cheeks. She was too beautiful to bare, and his grip on her hand tightened only slightly - a protective, loving sort of grasp.

You’re mine.

All mine.

She squeezed back.

His father had selected one of the Dupain-Cheng treats, and Adrien pursed his lips suspiciously. He had half a mind to point his finger and ask what this man had done with his real father.

After a slow, thoughtful bite, the man impersonating his father offered his compliments. “Your parents make an excellence Pain au chocolat, Marinette. Please give them our thanks.”

“I’ll be sure to pass it along the kind words,” Marinette offered warmly, practically buzzing in her seat as she savored the carefully prepared burnt cream. “They are always so touched to hear things like that.”

“Of course.”

Adrien ate another of the Dupain-Cheng desserts, preferring the light fluffy dough to a rich cream, and Marinette sighed happily when she sat back in her chair.

Releasing a low exhale of his own, Adrien’s father stood, indicating dinner officially over. “So, are you doing anything else this evening, or should we have a car come around to take you home?”

“We were going to play some video games,” Adrien offered, and Marinette nodded. “If… if that’s alright.”

“I don’t see why not,” he commented, leading them into the foyer. Marinette politely excused herself, seeking the bathroom, so he was left alone with his father in the hallway.

“Just be sure to have her returned home in time for her curfew.”

“That’s 10:30.” The blond glanced at his watch out of habit. It was just passed eight in the evening.

“I can let Nathalie know that you’ll need the car by 10:15.”

Before Adrien could thank his father, the man grimaced.

“Adrien?” His voice was off, and he studied the stairs like they insulted his designs. “She is a… very sweet girl. I’m, er, happy for you.”

Suddenly, Adrien found his thumbs very interesting, but managed a respectful response. “... I’m glad you think so. She’s really special to me, so… thanks for taking the time to meet her.”

“Your mother would have really liked her, I think.” The man added wistfully, and Adrien’s thought he sounded strained. He wasn’t exactly surprised; they had talked about her a lot tonight, probably more than they had since she disappeared.

Adrien bit his lip, hiding a grin. “You think so?”

His father’s response was decisive. “I know so.”

For what felt like the first time, the two men met eyes and shared a real, knowing smile. It was heavy, and appreciative, and tired. It was filled by absence and regret, unasked questions with untenable answers. Tonight, though, the tension felt a little less like shackles and a little more like hope. Like forgiveness, and apologies, and a handshake or a hug. It was just a look, but it felt like more than that.

A beat later, a lively pair of blue eyes re-emerged from a hallway, carried by the sound of her soft-bottomed shoes tapping against stone marble. Adrien’s father turned promptly towards her as she peered around the doorway, and his voice returned to its usual even tone.

“I have some work to return to, so I’m afraid I won’t see you out this evening. Nathalie and Adrien will see that you get home safely. Do take care, my dear.”

Stuttering, she bowed. “Y-yes, of course. Thank you! It was a pleasure. An honor, really, sir.”

Adrien wore a bemused smile as the two interacted, thinking he could get used to this side of his father, and certain he would never tire of Marinette’s blush when she flustered.

Again, his father glanced in his direction, holding his gaze for only a moment. He nodded towards his son and receded quickly into his office.

“Phew,” Adrien exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath until Marinette was in front of him. He should have taken a larger inhale, because the way she peered up at him took the air right back out of him.

“Ready to lose?” She smirked, and Adrien raised a brow.

“It seems it’s time to get the Party started?”

She deflated. “Take me home.”

“Mari!” He laughed, but she maintained a straight face, marching up the stairs towards his room. Adrien felt his stomach flutter as she walked away, the back of her blouse cut to expose a large part of her back. Gulping, he trailed after her, feeling a thrilling sense of nerves when she smiled smartly down at him.

 --

 “Agh,” Marinette muttered, her tongue sticking out in frustration as the results rolled in.

She hates losing. She really, really hates losing.

Especially to someone like Adrien, or Chat Noir, or Nino -- those that she could think of offhandedly. The kind of people who rubbed it in her face that she lost. The kind of people who got freakin’ smug when she lost. Oh, boy, did she hate that.

So during the closing ceremony, it was that much more thrilling when Toad announced that she, in fact, had won. Princess Peach managed to win by a slim margin of exactly three more coins than Yoshi. There was no way of keeping score of the bonus Stars until the end, and they had tied in everything else that was measurable. It was sort of incredible how evenly matched they were, flat out bulldozing the computer players in the process (to be fair, they left their difficulty on easy since she had never played and it had been so long since Adrien had either).

“Oh. Oh!” She had already put down her controller in defeat, which was probably for the best, because she leapt up from the couch with such force she probably would have ripped the Nintendo from the T.V.

Adrien groaned and leaned into the arm-rest of the couch. “Damn you. Hooooowwwwwwww?”

Marinette couldn’t help her excitement, always relishing victory (it was a quality you almost had to have being a superhero), but she at least kept the gloating to a minimum.

She sat back down and took one of his hands in her own, pressing her lips to it softly. “I’m sorry, Adrien. If it’s any consolation, I really thought you won.”

Peeking at her, though his face was still mostly in the sympathetic comfort of the couch cushion, he responded, “I’m not consoled.”

“What can I do?” She teased, still holding his hand; normally she’d be way too bashful to dare something so bold, but she was too overcome with the waves of triumph to bother.

“I feel like I need a win, or I’ll never get out of my mood.”

Pursing her lips, she smiled devilishly and turned his hand over, closing his fingers into a fist.

“Thumb war?” She challenged.

Smiling, Adrien chuckled and sat up, locking their hands together. “Thumb war.”

They both adjusted slightly on the couch, Marinette having kicked off her shoes over an hour ago. Adrien had joined her, wiggling his toes through dark socks, looking adorably foolish.

Positioning her skirt in front of her knees and crossing her legs carefully, Marinette watched as Adrien crossed his left leg over his right to better face her. They sat so close their knees touched, but Marinette refused to let herself be distracted.

“Ready?” He smirked.

“Ready. But I’m not just going to let you win. You have to earn it.”

In unison, while trying not to laugh, they started their tiny wrestling match.

“One, two, three, four…”

“I declare a thumb war!”

Adrien had a clear advantage, she soon learned, and began to regret her suggestion. While her thumb was thinner, it was also shorter, so it was harder to gain leverage against the back of his thumb. She almost had him at one point, but he faked her out and quickly captured her beneath him.

Marinette knew she wouldn’t be able to win, and in fairness, she should have been okay with that. Adrien said he wanted to beat her, but that’s simply not how she operates. After all, she’s Ladybug - it’s not like she could just… give up! Surely Paris would forgive her if she cheated just a little to win, right?

She shot out her other hand and brought it to the side of his abdomen, scratching and tickling him with her nails. Adrien began to laugh immediately, and tried to swat her hand away, but she used his distraction to her advantage and quickly claimed her victory.

“Hah!” She leaned back, laughing as the confusion and subsequent realization washed over him. Adrien scowled, one hand still touched his ribs where she tickled him.

“Oh, Mari, I wish you hadn’t done that.” His voice was deadly serious, and Marinette raised both brows.

Playing innocent, she cupped her hands together and pressed them to her cheek. “Oh, and why’s that?”

“Because it is now my right to tickle you.”

Before she could so much as breathe a word of protest, Adrien launched himself at her and his hands tasered her rib cage, though the startling sensation of his touch did even worse damage to her heart. Marinette was pretty sure she’d need to invest in a pacemaker to fix the steady arrhythmia that had her blood working overtime, pumping erratically, nonstop, since Sunday.

She tried to kick and squirm and tickle him back, but the effort was futile. The thumb war should have told her this was going to be a bad idea, because much like their hands, he was simply bigger than she was - maybe not stronger, (although, her hyperventilating lungs argued, he does have some pretty amazing muscles) but size definitely mattered in a tickle fight.

“S-Stop!” She said through a flurry of laughter, her face twisted up to a smile with cheeks so red she probably could have passed for Ladybug if she had worn something more form fitting.

“I’m afraid you lost the right when you cheated, Mari,” he said through his own laughter, unable to keep the giddy grin off his own face.

“Nooooo!” She squealed, hands frantically batting his away. “I’mSorryI’mSorryI’mSorry!”

Adrien sighed contently, wearing a smile that radiated with victory. “That’s better.”

Her lungs ached from the waves of giggles, and he was in much the same state, but instead of catching her breath she felt the last of her spirit leave her body.

Adrien was on top of her.

On his couch.

In his room.

She flustered to get up, and Adrien apparently caught on to their compromising position and almost fell back off the couch in his attempt to release her.

“Sorry,” he said, scratching his neck nervously. “I got a little carried away.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, covering her heart with a hand in a conscious effort to slow the frantic beating.

“Don’t be…” she mumbled, taking in another deep breath. “I probably deserved that.”

Her eyes fluttered open when she heard Adrien shift slightly on the couch, and he turned to look at her with sincere, sparkling eyes.

“Did I tell you that you looked really beautiful in that outfit? I probably did, but it’s worth saying again.”

Marinette covered a cheek with a hand, suddenly timid. With Adrien, it was like a pendulum between her shyness and her self-confidence; she wasn’t insecure because she thought poorly of herself, but rather, she felt humbled by the attention he gave her.

“Thanks. That… means a lot. It’s supposed to be a peony, but it ended up looking more like a rose.” She glanced down, tracing a line down the needlework she had worked a long time on, sort of frustrated with the end result. It had been a project she created during the winter months, a daydream of what Summer could bring. Marinette had never imagined it could be this good.

When she managed a glance up at him, he was impossibly close. Their noses almost touched, but he kept his eyes on hers.

A whisper. “It’s lovely, Mari. Really suits you.”

Marinette felt a timorous smile spread on her face, and she nodded, not sure what else to say.

She turned her face to his, this time letting their noses touch. His warmth was practically spreading through to her, his cheeks ablaze with a lustful color. In truth, Marinette had to imagine her’s looked much the same, and her flush only deepened when she tasted a tiny inhale of his cologne.

Hesitant, Marinette fluttered her eyes closed and leaned forward, seeking the soft reprieve of a kiss. She wanted to be the one to initiate it this time, wishing she had the sort of brash confidence he had the times before, but to her it still felt so new that there was still need of an invitation. A silent request, a nervous but passionate interest, to be reciprocated by him.

Adrien released a tiny sigh, a sound of pure happiness, and it spurred her to erase the distance and seek his lips with a confused mix of delicacy and urgency. When she found them, they were forgiving and the sensation of honey running over her mouth clouded her mind. She tried to keep a focus, count off the ingredients to her favorite cookie recipe, picture her disheveled clipboard at the shop, remind herself of the thrill of capturing an akuma, but the pressure of him so close zapped it all from her memory. It was just him, and his taste, and the wonderful smell of him flooding her senses.

A small part of Marinette’s mind wanted to deepen the kiss - okay, maybe more than a small part. A very loud, very clear part of her brain was demanding to understand his tongue by way of interrogation, to push herself against his impossibly toned torso, to indulge in every fantasy she’d dreamed up over the past three years. Pining was hard, and now that she’d taken the first step into the swirling emerald pool, it was like trying to force the rain to stop during a thunderstorm, or to resist the sunrise at dawn.

She deserved this, right?

She waited long enough, and some forces of nature simply cannot be stopped.

A languid, almost inaudible gasp fell from him when Marinette swiped her tongue against his lower lip, and the sensation of their breathing mingling together made her hairs stand on end.

Who needed food? Marinette would gladly sustain herself on nothing but his lips for the rest of her life if given the choice.

Adrien brushed some of the hair from her shoulder, moving his hand to her jawline, holding her carefully while she explored his neck with her fingers, crawling her hands up to his hair and digging into the soft blond waves. While the wanton sensation was intense, Marinette lavished every moment, even the most subtle ones. A tiny dance of his lashes across her cheek, the clumsy, inexperienced knocking of their teeth, the soft brush of fabric each time they moved on the couch. She would never forget the quiet hilarity of the Mario Party victory music playing in the background as Princess Peach was showered with confetti.

After perhaps a full minute, Adrien finally pulled away, and Marinette nearly groaned in protest but managed to punch down the urge. This was only their second date and she was hardly able to control herself, so with a quick internal beratement, the girl found her forgotten strength of will tossed aside with her shoes.

“Um,” she said after they stared at each other for several seconds, quietly gasping for breath as her heart thumped madly against his ribcage. Her skin felt hot and sensitive from the suddenly intimate moment. “I… er, you want to keep playing?”

“Hmm?” Adrien replied, blinking a few times and following her gaze to the television. “Oh. Right. Uh… let’s see what time it is…”

The blond reached for his cell phone and laughed abruptly, so Marinette leaned over curiously. She could see Alya’s name on the screen, and it was about to turn 10.

“It’s later than I thought,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Oh, my phone has been in my bag all night…” She murmured as he flicked through the messages, adjusting the screen so Marinette could read along with him in the group chat.

 Nino (7:31 PM):

Now remember kids, your mother and I are trusting you to spend the evening responsibly. Don’t do anything Father Nino wouldn’t do!

 Alya (7:33 PM):

That’s not really setting a great precedent, considering…. You know what? Nvm.

 Laughing, Marinette covered her face with a hand. “Oh my god, they’re the worst.”

“They really are,” Adrien agreed, continuing to scroll.

 Nino (7:40 PM):

Okay but really now I’m having second thoughts. Double-dates would be nice and all, but what about bro time? Who is going to keep me company while I play pokemon go???

 Alya (7:42 PM):

because people actually still play that. Keep up with the times why don’t cha.

 Nino (7:43 PM):

For your information, Adrien does - tell her, dude!

 “It’s true,” he nodded gravely. “Although not as much compared to when it first came out. Nino keeps me going when he finds a good catch somewhere in town.”

“God, you’re lame,” Marinette commented. He laughed and continued to read.

 Alya (7:56 PM):

Looks like your “bro” has vanished into the arms of a sexy young female. Sorry babe.

 Flushing, Marinette shielded her eyes.  “Oh my god, I can’t stand her sometimes!”

Adrien nudged her with his hip on the couch. “I can’t say she’s wrong…”

“Adrien!” She squeaked, blushing even harder.

 Nino (8:01 PM):

Why must I suffer for you to be happy?

 Alya (8:02 PM):

Are you talking to me or Adrien?

 Nino (8:02 PM):

I’m actually talking to Nette, TYVM. gosh not everything is about you

 Alya (8:04 PM):

k

 Nino (8:06 PM):

I’VE MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE

 Absently, Marinette’s hand went to her throat while they continued to read through Nino’s angst, tracing the places he had touched her like they had been licked by flames. Much the same, the tips of her fingers burned, thinking of how warm and soft he felt in her grasp had been. She risked a glance at him while he penned a response, wondering what he would do if she repeated the action, or if he felt the same tingle beneath his skin when she touched him.

“Poor Nino,” he frowned. “You might want to back me up on this to appease the both of them.”

Brows raised, that dark-hair girl stood and sought her phone in her purse, set down on Adrien’s desk, but froze.

Tikki was gone.

“Mmp!” Marinette squeaked, digging around frantically. “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she pulled out everything, horrified at the thought of her kwami disappearing. What if something terrible happened? This wasn’t like the shop or her room, where her red companion could hide but reappear easily. This was Adrien’s house, and who knows where she could be.

“Marinette? What’s going on?” A blond head of hair stood, looking concerned. “Did you lose your phone?”

“What?” She shook her head, forgetting herself. “Oh - oh! N-no… hah. No no… Just… thought I did. It’s here. I’m sure glad I didn’t lose it though!” Marinette was almost shouting, and she cringed.

Adrien moved closer, looking at her carefully. “Are you sure you’re okay? The car isn’t going to be ready until 10:15, but if you’d like to go home early...”

“No! I- I mean, n-no. I think, um, the food isn’t settling in my stomach well. Excuse me…” She averted his eyes, scurrying off to the bathroom with a very real pit in her stomach. If her kwami had been near enough, she only prayed that she’d be followed into the bathroom by a flash of red.

Inadvertently, she stepped through the door and caught sight of her appearance, and she was a little surprised. Her skirt and blouse had remained neat and pressed, but the half-pinned back locks that framed her face were a lost cause. The tickle war had done her in, and she quickly began to unpin her hair, trying to keep herself from shouting for Tikki at the top of her lungs.

By the time she completed taking her hair down and brushing it out with her fingers, Marinette nearly shrieked when her kwami appeared through the ceiling.

“G-g-ah…” Again, the girl clutched her heart, too overcome with relief to bother with much else than a swift hug of her kwami against her cheek.

Quietly, Marinette whispered, “Oh my god, Tikki. Don’t scare me like that! Where were you?!”

“Oh, you know… around?” A red face scrunched up at her, and Marinette felt her lips grow thinner.

“Around? Just around in Adrien’s house? What if someone saw you!? What if I left and you weren’t back!”

“Shh, Marinette, it’s okay.” Tikki looked apologetic, and touched a paw to her lips as her voice began to grow in volume. “Take a deep breath, and I promise, you don’t need to worry. I… thought I saw a little pest, but it turned out to be nothing. I was only gone a moment, and an inopportune one at that. I’m very sorry.”

Unprecedented tears started to well in her eyes, but she gave Tikki another loving squeeze against her cheek. “I’m… I’m just glad you’re okay. I got really freaked out!”

“Don’t worry! It’s all fine now. Just go ahead and finish your date. If you can distract Adrien, I’ll fly back to your purse immediately. Okay?”

Gulping down courage she didn’t have, Marinette nodded once. “Okay.”

With a quick light tap-tap against both of her cheeks, shaking the nerves from her bones, Marinette grasped the handle and re-entered Adrien’s room.

It took her a moment to spot him, a ninety-degree angle from the bathroom, standing in the corner at the windowsill, and he turned at the sound of the door opening.

“Hey, are you feeling better?” Adrien said with a small, concerned smile. Marinette nodded shyly and approached when he gestured for her to come nearer.

“Oh!” She breathed when he stepped aside slightly. “The hydrangeas. They look beautiful.”

And so they did. Smoky darkness framed them from the evening beyond, the moon providing a perfect soft source of illumination to their amaranthine petals. This pair in particular had been some of her favorites of all the ones she grew, loving how full and round the bulbs had come with the spring yield. In full bloom, she couldn’t have imagined a better choice to represent her feelings for him.

“Yes. Beautiful.”

The tone he used struck her as odd, and when Marinette looked over at him, her knees nearly gave way. Intense and curious, Adrien’s gaze studied her with an admiring sort of security.

The pop of green seemed deeply happy, while stirring with the mystery and mischief of his goofy and kind-hearted side, and it filled her with an ache of love so intense she felt the words of sweet confession start to form on her tongue. Thankfully, there was no air in her lungs to support to syllables, so they died as they inched up her vocal chords.

Three years of unrequited, or, at least, misunderstood feelings, clamped down hard on her heart bitterly, and yet, Marinette knew she would do it again. Every lifetime, if she had to. Again and again. She would have waited forever for him to look at her like that, and three years had been long, and slow, but in the gentle curve that tempered his eyes when he smiled at her, because of her, she knew it had made each second worth it.

He broke her stupor, gesturing below her chin. “Why did you choose the peony?”

“The… peony…? Oh. Right.” She traced the outline of the flower, feeling a tint of pink stain her cheeks. “I actually picked it… well because of you. I made it in the winter, but I-I’ve… I really liked you, Adrien. For a long time. Years. Since the day you gave me that umbrella, actually.” Marinette squeezed an arm across her chest, unable to stop the sudden avowal from spilling off her tongue. “Peonies are supposed to be a mark of good luck, and when I made this, I hoped one day… well, maybe we’d be here. Together? I guess it worked?” She chuckled from embarrassment, averting her eyes.

Adrien didn’t say anything, and she grew increasingly nervous. “T-there’s legends and stuff! Some people say it’s from a Greek legend about medicine, and another about a nymph… both end with someone getting turned into a peony though, to protect them and to embody their spirits. And, nowadays, you know, a bush of peonies that thrives is supposed to be a sign of good fortune! And - and, um, i-if your peonies wither and don’t survive through summer, it’s a sign of bad tidings. Unlucky. Unlucky.”

Too bad it’s impossible to throttle yourself, Marinette thought as her brain continued to fill an anxious silence with even more anxious words. She shouldn’t have admitted how long she wanted this - it made her seem desperate, didn’t it? A clingy, useless thing, like ivy, latching to life and refusing to let go.

“Annnnnd, you know, I figured since I sew, I could make my own peony. Avoid the risk of growing them. One that would never wither. A chance for luck. ‘A Needlepoint Peony’, get it? If it’s big and bold, and never fades, it could let me be happy, right? Even though I’m not superstitious - how stupid! What am I saying? What was the question?”

Marinette forcibly covered her mouth with a hand, trying to stop the verbal flood.

Brow furrowed, the blond simply stared at her in mute silence. What was he thinking? That was too much. This was all too much, wasn’t it?

Marinette shivered when he touched her cheek.

“Marinette... ” He started to speak, but she thought a flicker of frustration colored his tone. Instead, Adrien pulled her closer and ghosted his lips over hers - the gesture was much more delicate this time. A bee buzzing over a flower, the rush of feeling was almost enough to make her cry at how long she’d wanted this, how happy she was to be here, to show him and shower him in the love she had to give. Instead, their lips pulled apart, and sweet emotion tickled her throat with the taste of sunshine and spearmint.

“I’m sorry you waited so long. I’m - I’m so glad you did. But I don’t think it’s the peony; it’s just you.” He laughed a bit at her dazed expression, squishing their foreheads together. “It’s you. Lucky. Pretty. Smart. I’m just stupid for not noticing sooner.”

Leaning away, Adrien stood up slightly and pressed a gentle kiss into her forehead.

“Thank you for giving me a chance.”

A rapt knocking broke them out of the moment, and Nathalie spoke through the door. “Adrien. The car is prepared for Marinette.”

The pair blinked a few times, words processing a little slower as reality returned from their private moment. After a slow breath, Adrien smiled.

“Let’s get you home.”

Marinette could only nod and let herself be led from his house, grabbing her purse and floating down the stairs. She was unable to do more than share a few warm glances with him when they sat down in the car.

Marinette felt so happy that it actually hurt when the door shut, like finishing the chapter of a great story; why did it have to end? Anything she could do to savor the last moments before they said good night were worth it, and when they settled in the backseat, she eagerly took his hand.

“We should do something this weekend.” She stated, failing to sound casual with the pitchy tone of her voice. Adrien didn’t seem to mind.

“I’d love that - oh! That reminds me!” He blinked a few times, little green twinkles in the dark interior as they rolled past darkened Parisian streets. “I actually - well, it’s a long story. Basically, I got my schedule messed up, and I realized I can go the reception on Saturday. The one for the museums, for Le Nuit. Go with me, please?”

Marinette balked, staring at him. Was he serious?

“...What? But, we’d… well, you know,” she cleared her throat, aware of the two adults occupying the front seat. “People would see us together. Are you sure? Maybe you should talk to your Dad… And isn’t at Le Grande Paris? Chloe’s not exactly my ‘BFF,’ you know.”

The blond leaned over the center console, voice low. The whisper in her ear sent a current of electricity down her spine. “I’ll talk to my Dad if it’ll make you feel better, but I want to go out with you. I want people to know. I want everyone to know.” Drawing back, Marinette released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

He repeated his earlier invitation. “Please, go with me?”

“I- O-of course. Of course I’ll go.” She beamed, wondering when her alarm for school was going to wake her from this amazing dream; there’s no way it was real. Any minute now, she guessed.

The minutes passed, and no alarm interrupted them. They pulled up to the bakery, and Marinette scoffed irritably. Her parents were framed in the doorway, waving at them in the car.

“The welcoming committee is here this time,” she pointed out, and Adrien laughed as he sprang from the car, racing to get her door.

As she rolled her eyes, he quipped, “Rye is that a problem?

Marinette decided to ignore that. “Thank you, Madam Sancoeur. And, um, Monsieur... Driver.”

“Bonsoir, Marinette,” Nathalie answered as Adrien shut the door.

Marinette tried to seem perfectly grumpy as they approached, which wasn’t entirely difficult when Adrien made another joke, urging her to “crumb on.”

“Hi, Maman, Papa,” Marinette said as she pushed open the door to the bakery, and the Dupain-Cheng’s stood with bouncing heels and excited smiles, spotting Adrien’s hand on her lower back.

“Good evening, Madam Cheng, Monsieur Dupain,” Adrien greeted formally, bowing slightly. The movement was interrupted when her father captured them both in a hug, strong enough to lift them both from the ground. Maman barely managed to not get caught in the flurry.

“There’s my girl! And so happy to see you, son,” her father beamed at Adrien when they both were returned to solid ground.

Her mother grasped her husband’s arm, leaning into him dreamily. “Look at the happy couple! You both look so cute together. And about time, too!”

Red crept Marinette’s neck, burying her freckles in a fury of distress. “Maman! Stop it!”

Adrien chuckled and smirked and her chagrin, and she thought about forcing him out the door.

“I can’t stand you - all of you!” Marinette groaned, putting her face in her hands.

“Now now, sweetie,” her father consoled her with a less crushing embrace. “Your mother and I are just excited for you and Adrien. All we wanted for you is a sweet, nice gentleman, and you found him. Can you blame us?”

Clearing his throat, Adrien sounded a little off. “W-well, thank you, Monsieur Dupain. That’s such a nice thing to say. I’m really happy you’re so accepting of me.”

Marinette peeked at the boy from comforting spot against her Papa’s chest, eyeing her mother suspiciously as the woman took his hand and patted it with her other. “You’re a sweet boy, and we trust you. Please, come over anytime for dinner or to a… what do the kids say, ‘Netflix binge?’ That.”

Marinette considered drowning herself with the gardening hose tomorrow when she got to work.

“Maman, you can’t say things like that! There’s a-a-a connotation to that, and it’s inappropriate! Adrien, I’m so sorry!”

The woman was unphased, merely shrugging. “Adrien, thank you for making sure Marinette got home safely. You take care, and if you ever want to stop in, we’re always happy to have you.”

“Our little girl’s first boyfriend!” Her father sighed, squeezing a struggling Marinette into him. His large stomach was making it impossible to breathe, and when she finally resurfaced, some of her hair got squashed into her mouth.

“Pff -” she said, spitting it out and untangling herself from her parents, pushing them towards the back of the store.

“Okay, thanks, bye!”

Marinette could barely look him in the eye. “I am so sorry about that. Please ignore them.”

“It’s okay,” Adrien reassured her, walking across the store to meet her. She peeked up at him and he was smiling, his halo of blonde hair almost making him look angelic. “I thought it was sweet. Your parents are always so nice.”

“Nice is one word for it…” she grumbled, crossing her arms.

Adrien laughed and shook his head, wrapping the petulant girl in his arms. “I had a great time tonight,” he whispered.

Marinette gulped, and dropped her arms from their childish pouting position. She wrapped them around his middle, nuzzling softly into his shoulder.

“I did, too…” biting her lip, she confessed a burning question. “We’ll see each other Saturday, but… maybe we could try sooner? I-I really like spending time with you.”

Pulling apart, his features lit up, brilliant and pure. “Absolutely. I’ll figure out my schedule and we can do something. Even if it’s just spending time at the flower shop - I guess I’m not such a bad employee after all!”

“Don’t get too big for your loafers, Buster Brown,” Marinette warned, putting a hand at her hip. Instead of a silly response, Adrien peeled with sudden laughter.

“That was a fantastic pun, Mari. Well done.”

Squinting, she had to process his meaning.

Don’t get too big for your loaf-ers, Buster Brown.

Rubbing her temples, Marinette’s voice was sour. “This is how I die. A slow, subtle descent to madness.”

Adrien kissed her forehead once again and the bitterness fell right off of her.

Quick and sweet, his presence was so close, everywhere in her senses, and he murmured to her softly. “Good night, Mari. I’ll see you soon.”

“I- o-okay. T-thanks again for... tonight. For everything.” She stuttered through a response, feeling like the wind had just been knocked out of her. Adrien swiftly disappeared into the night, and Marinette, thoroughly dazed, listened to the bell at the door, his dismissal, fade away into a quiet peace.

   Bonus Scene:

 “This way, come on,” Plagg phased through the ceiling wall, and Tikki was about ready to throttle him.

She shot a quick whisper at him when she caught up, breathing in the scent of fresh air.

“Where are we going, Plagg?”

They had been floating around all evening, mostly in the upper corners of Adrien’s room, and Plagg seemed not at all himself. The kwami’s tail twitched occasionally, he smiled too frequently, and Tikki suspected he was up to something.

“Almost there. Just be patient – geez. Drama queen.”

Inhaling sharply, Tikki’s antenna twitched. “What did you just say to me?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing at all!” Plagg’s eyes went wide and he phased through yet another wall, much to her dismay. They had only gone up a floor and through one room, but she hadn’t been able to warn Marinette of her departure, and that made her nervous.

“We had all night – why would you wait until the last fifteen minutes before Marinette has to go home to… Plagg, are you even listening to me?”

The kwami’s ear’s twitched a few feet in front of her, and he turned midair. Tikki quietly noted their surroundings; it seemed like an old music room, and the air was musty with dust. Dark particles flew around them, oddly pretty under the streaming light of the lunar light from the tall windows. It was like floating in an ocean of dark stars, and the look of apology Plagg gave her made her blush.

“I-I’m sorry, Tikki. I had a surprise for you, but I kept getting nervous and backing out of it! But, ugh, I hate this stupid emotional crap. We’ll make it quick, just, cm’here…” He grumbled the last part over his shoulder. Taken aback, Tikki blinked and sneezed at some dust, but sped across the room to catch up with him.

Plagg sat on a rather modest-looking box in the corner of the room, set squarely in the center of an extravagant dresser. The dark wood reflected some white-blue illumination from the windows, and it cast the black cat in an oddly somber light.

Gentler than before, Tikki lowered herself next to him. “What is this place?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he answered slowly, rubbing a paw along the box. “I think it was important to Adrien’s mom, cause her name is written all over this stuff. Pianos and violins and junk, though it’s all terribly out of tune.”

“Like you’d know how to carry a tune,” she nudged him. “I’ve heard your singing.”

“I happen to be a fantastic singer, thank you,” he grinned. “Ask Adrien. I sang him a ballad about camembert once, and even he said it was fantastic.”

The red kwami giggled, “Suuuuure.”

They sat for a moment in silence, and Tikki admired the room. It was probably the size of Adrien’s ground-floor, wide with tall ceilings. Most of the services were covered in sheets, probably to keep the dust off, and it made her a little sad to think about.

Abruptly, she sneezed with the swishing of Plagg’s tail kicking up some of the dust.

“It’s pretty in here,” she remarked as she shook the dust from her head. “But it’s sort of making me feel sick. Should we go back?”

A tiny tint of green peeked up through his whiskers, and Tikki blinked. “What?”

“There’s one more thing – okay? Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” she answered honestly, a little amused by his behavior.

He took a deep breath and floated up, gesturing for her to follow. Plagg then carefully creaked open the lid of the box, and a gentle little music began to play. Perhaps a piano, crisp little notes of a sweet melody rang out in the silent room, and a ballerina danced inside the box.

“A music box?” Tikki questioned, scowling down at the display in confusion. When she looked up, Plagg was smoothing out his whiskers, and he cleared his throat.

“Sure, whatever. It plays, and I can’t figure out anything else in this room. So are you going to dance with me, or not?”

Scarlet rushed to her already crimson cheeks, and Tikki’s blue eyes grew even wider. “Dance?”

“Dance.” He repeated, floating up to her and taking her paws in his. His over-confident voice deceived his drawn brow, the frown of his lips.

The best she could do was smile warmly and resist the urge to sneeze, floating a bit closer.

It wasn’t like the sort of tangos or slow dances humans entertained, complicated by steps and disproportionate bodies. They just held hands, paw to paw, and twirled in the dusty sea, dark twinkles sparkling around them in a soft light of night.

The balance had never been so secure.

[seecourtneytravel]

September 19, 2018

Tabontabon Rural Health Clinic

I woke up (shocking I know) at like 0600 to make sure I was out of the house by 7am. I felt like one hour should be good enough to go to the Tabontabon Rural Health Clinic for my first real day at the location. I’m currently scheduled to arrive at this clinic Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 8am to 12pm. And then at the Leyte Provincial Hospital Tuesdays and Thursdays 8am to 12pm. Four hours a day for 5 days a week. Plus the commute time for just today going to the clinic is at least 1 hour… so I thought..

I arrived almost an hour late. Here’s how. I did my usual transportation from “Escina Bliss” to the Tanauan farmers market (30 minutes on jeepney). Once arrived there, I hopped on a tricycle to take me to the rest of the way to Tabontabon. The tricycle refused to leave until it had more passengers. Across from me was a friendly woman that was talkative even though she was not confident in her English. She held a baby in her hands that looked less than a year old and appeared to have been delayed. The baby was calm, not fussy, was okay being in his mom's arms for long periods of time. His eyes had nystagmus and his right arm was contorted with a constant fist. The Mother was so high spirited, patient, and calm. Nobody moved for over 40 minutes. Even they’re being a baby on board waiting to get to their home and out of the heat, the tricycle would still not budge.

Filipino Moms

I notice all moms here are resilient. They have their child 100% natural and would carry them probably until they can finally walk. My house sister, Arlyn is 25 with a 6 month old a 4 year old. Being here for a week, I have not once see her upset or impatient with her kids. She is always holding and rocking her 6 month old without tire. The baby never cries but just has smiles and then bigger smiles. It’s another amazement to see a house with two kids but no toys. No bouncers or a high chair. No iPad or endless entertainment for the 4 year old. The mothers and their children are simply resilient.

After another passenger boarded we finally made our way to Tabontabon. The next passenger was an 18 year old that looked 13. Her english was also also on the so so side but she smiled and conversed with me as much as she could. Again, always with a smile.

I was on the motorised tricycle for thirty minutes. My back was against a metal bar that was vibrating like crazy during the ride making it itch. I couldn’t keep my head on the inside of the domed portion as I sat in the back, because I was too tall. The tricycles are a lot of fun for short rides, not really ideal for my commute but there was no other way unless I wanted to pay triple the cost and grab a ride from a motorcycle.

I walked into the clinic on my own and was ushered into the back room by a staff memeber. I walked in on a meeting and their were about 20 or 30 people crammed into a small room. They sat me in a chair in the center and the head doctor asked me a ton of questions to answer in front of all the staff in the clinic. The basic questions and curiouslities like: Where are you from? Where do you work? How long? Almost like an interview. They always ask if I’m married and I have to break the news that I would need to have a boyfriend first for that. They all gasp in shock, giggled and Ooo-ed. I made a few jokes to make an ice breaker saying I was looking for my 90 day fiancé because I’m not getting any younger. Everyone laughed.

I was excused from the room as they finished their meeting. I changed clothes and started shadowing a clinic nurse. It felt like a high speed clinic or urgent care. She would get the vital signs, weight, and complaint. They would have their charts that would be clustered together by family name. The nurses write on a blank sheet of paper the date and complaint almost like it was a scrap paper but it was part of the charts. They would chart in English and communicate to the patients in waray- waray. I was advised by the head doctor to just observe today.

The community in tabontabon could not speak English and were typically too inland for schools and the atmosphere to have it in their curriculum. The patient population is super high in pregnant woman, babies, and kids.

One of the patients seen first by the nurse was a 1 year old with a fever. This was the first time I could see the nurse was allowed to act before having a doctors order. Whereas in the hospital was a little different. The nurse said to me? “We are advised to give paracetamol when a child comes in with high fever.” I looked at the box and didn’t recognise it but apparently it was their Tylenol. I was trying to do the math with the nurse to figure out dose calculation. I’m not sure why I couldn’t wrap my head around it but I couldn’t figure out why and how she got her numbers. I’m so used to setting up a math problem in a cross division sort of way, but apparently I have to hit the dose calculation books again because I felt pretty slow at this point. The box read 250mg/5ml, then it only gave the recommended dosing for age groups. The nurse explained to me that the patient weighs 7kg and the constant is 15. I was sitting there wondering.. (what the hell is a constant…. it’s not written on the bottle..). I tried the equation my cross division way and couldn’t get the answer. I asked her why 15? She just said because it’s the constant. I figured I would return to this problem when I have down time because I was obviously over thinking. Maybe it’s like the number 9 in our Tpa formula..

Anyways- she took the baby and mom to the front of the line with a basin of ice water for the mom to help cool the baby down. I said, “that’s a good idea, we typically don’t do that.” I think some of my side comments made America’s practice seem a little lazy in a way, but they were just general comments. Some responses I would get a gasping “really!” with eyebrows raised. But I was trying my best to internalise my own expressions with some differences I noticed in their practice. Now I’ll probably add cool wash clothes to my febrile baby patients. Sounds easy, but at times the little things can be overlooked. I’m so used to putting cold packs to the armpit or groin to an elderly patient. But babies are not my forte.

From initial assessment we headed to exam area. Here, I sat in the exam room where two medical residents took patients as they came. Both doctors were woman in their 30’s but looked like they were in their 20’s. They assessed, examines, and wrote prescriptions as if it was the triage nurses and PA’s would in triage at our home hospitals in the U.S. One baby came in with crackles. The doctor advised she should be placed on oxygen and have a breathing treatment. The doctor did a lot of the manual work and treatments in the room with a midwife assist. Equipment was scarce but they made due with the supplies they had to treat the baby to an improved condition.

I asked about why I was seeing so many midwives. I have not heard of any nurse practitioner here thus far as well so I feel as if their are different levels of care. I have seen nurses, midwives and doctors only. In the U.S., I believe being a nurse practitioner and then deciding to be a medical doctor is a very long path. The Philippines are required to be either a midwife or nurse first before being a doctor. This is all information that I’ve gathered being here during lunch room small talk and can have some inaccuracy.

The day was long as I sat there and heard constant convos in Waray-waray. It became the afternoon and I had lunch with the two residents. They reminded me of my American Filipino friends back home but they have never been to the U.S.. I talked with them asking how I could help or make a difference here because it seemed over staffed. I stated my concerns, stating that I thought my “hands on” experience won’t be used as much here. I also haven’t had a chance to explore the community with the staff as well. They go out into the community and teach preventive medicine and give vaccines. I also asked what supplies they needed because I noticed that was also an issue. Especially at the hospital, where it appeared to be dramatically under supplied and staffed.

I imagined myself going home and asking my nurse managers from the hospitals I’ve worked in to not throw away unused or expired supplies because they could have use in other areas of the world like the Philippines. We have so much waste but manage to know how to waste it (if that makes sense). I imagined If gloves were suddenly readily available in the Philippines they would either not use it based off of habits of practice or not know how to dispose of it. I imagine medical waste would end up in the street, untouched landfills I’ve see here, or even worse- in the ocean. So their was that boggling in my head.

After talking and eating with the doctors they took me back to the head doctors office so I could address my concerns. She basically asked me what my expectations were and I said to be more hands on. But that would just take away one of their staff members to watch over me or to translate for me. The resident mentioned that I thought about what items were needed to the head doctor. She said that most items get differed to the bigger hospital when donated and usually they are fine on their basic supplies at the clinic. Just another reminder of how Filipinos are resilient.

I left the office a little discerned like this may be more shadowing and I won’t be as hands on as I thought. There are nursing staff that do go out to the community to help with vaccinations and preventative medicine. I still need to see that here so there may be more to look forward to.

When I returned I asked Jude if I could maybe switch my days and maybe be at the hospital Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and only two days at the clinic. They said that would not be a problem.