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restapesta · 3 years

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Piercings. 5+1 ficlet, but with piercings. I have a problem.

Ian thought he knew pretty much everything about his husband. He knew him, inside and fucking out.

How could he not? Ian's pretty much been with him for a better part of his life, and they've had enough late-night talks to share all their demons with each other, however hard it may have been. They knew each other.

There was no doubt about it.

But, well. Ian should have known Mickey kept secrets.

He also should've known that one of those secrets was bound to put him in the grave one day with the inscription on his tombstone saying that he died from horniness.

Because one of these days, he would. There was no doubt about it.

It wasn't the most conventional way to go, but Ian didn't mind it.

Because, holy fuck, Mickey just admitted he used to have his ears pierced.

"Sorry," Ian balked at his husband who was standing in the bathroom, eyeing himself in the mirror, a pair of black studs in his right hand. "Did you just say you had your ears pierced?"

"I probably still do." Mickey grabs an earring and places it against the healed-up hole that is so faint, Ian needed to come impossibly closer to see it. Mickey had pointed it out to him after he initially said he was getting his ears pierced again. Right after Ian was left with his mouth wide open, staring widely at him, not trusting he heard him right. "And if not, I'm just gonna reopen them."

How did Ian never notice it? How did he never see Mickey, the love of his life, with earrings in his ears? With little patched-up spots of skin that were so plainly visible to the eye, now that he really looked at it.

Mickey grimaced as he pressed the needle against the hole, pushing and prodding against the uncooperative entrance. He eyed Ian in the mirror, eyes narrowing. "What are you staring at?"

Ian was stunned speechless. Of course he was. Of fucking course Mickey was about to bust out some crazy thing two years into their marriage that would make Ian finally break. Like having his ears pierced, making every single yet-undiscovered fantasy come to life.

He couldn't help but imagine Mickey with a nose ring, now. Tongue piercing. Eyebrow piercing.

Nipples.

Holy fuck.

Blood was rushing straight to his dick, and goddamn it, this was it. Ian was about to die.

Because holy fuck, the earring went through.

So did the other one.

And now, Ian was staring at Mickey, who was sporting black studs in his ears. Two dark diamonds that were obviously fake but could've not been, because this wasn't Mickey anymore. This wasn't the Mickey who rolled his eyes at anything gay—except getting pounded, obviously.

No—this was Mickey with earrings.

Ian's mouth was dry. It was dry as Mickey turned away from the mirror to face him. He stood in front of him, a determined look on his face as if waiting for Ian to call him out. Him, in all his fucking glory.

"Did you, uh," Ian finally stammered out. "sterilize the needles? I don't want you to get an infection."

"That really all you gotta say?"

Ian swallowed. "How come I never saw you with," He pointed at Mickey's ears, unable to even say the word. "those?"

"I was really young. I got 'em pierced when Mandy did. Took them out fairly soon, 'cus, you know." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

Ian knew.

He gripped Mickey by the shoulders pulling him closer. His eyes were on Ian's, but Ian's were on the earrings, and Ian never really knew he had a kink for jewelry.

Well, there was the wedding ring, but fuck, this had nothing to do with their relationship, and yet Ian was still sporting a raging hard-on Mickey had yet to notice.

"I love them." He said truthfully, mentally noting to get Mickey real studs once he got the chance. Not the cheap grocery-store ones, but actual diamonds that he wouldn't mind spending money on. Not when they would look so good on his husband.

Mickey blushed, pushing Ian away immediately, not getting away far, arms practically out so Ian could pull him back in. And he did, squeezing him tightly against his chest, careful not to place too much pressure on the newly-reopened piercings.

Mickey mumbled something against Ian's shirt, incoherent.

"What? I didn't hear you"

"I love you."

Ian smiled. Pulled Mickey away so he could stare into his eyes.

"You know you gotta let me fuck you with those on. Pretty sure it will be the best orgasm of my life."

Mickey only smirked, eyes lighting up immediately at the suggestion. He looks fucking amazing, Ian thought.

"Lead the way, hotshot."

Ian was right. With the earrings and the smugness—

It took him less than a minute.

When Ian saw the photo, he was pretty sure he was going to die.

No, not pretty sure. One-hundred percent sure. Death was awaiting him now, ready to pull him in. He was already feeling faint, ready to just slip away into unconsciousness. He was going to die, for sure.

Or maybe it was just the loss of all the blood that was heading way down south that was making him feel this way, because holy shit.

Holy shit.

When Mickey took the earrings out after a few days of usage, claiming how they sucked, Ian thought that was it. Mickey was never going to do anything that reminded him of being gay ever again. He had probably been embarrassed and wanted to take them out, and Ian was feeling at such loss when he saw his ears vacant that he was ready to throw hands.

But, oh God.

Ian was now staring at a picture of Mickey—a picture he posted on goddamn Instagram for everybody to see—and it was him.

Him with a fucking nose piercing.

Ian checked the comments first. It would've probably been saner to call his husband and ask if he actually got a nose piercing and if he was ready to be a widow because Ian won't be lasting much longer, but there were a bunch of comments on the photo, and fuck if Ian wasn't going to leaf through them all. This could be a joke for all he knew.

Some sick joke to get Ian's hopes up, just to get them crushed down until he never had any hopes in life ever again.

Mickey with a nose piercing. Mickey with a nose piercing.

Carl said it looked 'fuckin' sick'. Lip was putting 😲 emojis all throughout the chat, sometimes even adding the 😏 one, probably a reference to Ian (at least Ian hoped it was). The other comments were just about how good Mickey look, which was really no surprise, but holy shit, did that mean this was real?

Mickey was out running some errand. Said he had some shit he needed to. That sneaky bastard. Ian didn't care if he was in the middle of the goddamn line at the Costco aisle or in the middle of a drug run.

He facetimed him.

When Mickey's face came into view, the nose ring present and very much real, Ian was lost for words. Mickey was biting his lip to keep from smiling and once he noticed Ian was just going to continue and stare, he scoffed.

"Man, it's just a piercing."

"No," Ian said. "This is much more than 'just a piercing'."

Mickey chuckled. "Well, I figured since I didn't really like the earrings, I could do this. It felt right."

This was the Mickey Ian knew and loved. The Mickey who wanted to try new things, get to know his own style. Mickey, who was finally confident enough in himself, and hopefully comfortable in their marriage, that he didn't even consider this a big deal. Ian was filled to the brim with emotions, and he was ready to explode.

"You need to come home now."

They met each other's eyes through the screen, blue glimmering in mischief. Mickey smiled. "Why?"

"Because."

"This piercing shit really gets you going, huh, Gallagher?"

It did.

It really did.

"If you're not home in ten minutes, I'll get the whip. So better be fucking home." With that he hung up, getting up to ready the supplies.

Mickey was home in eleven.

Ian knew it was fucking intentional.

Ian might've been getting used to the fucking hotness that Mickey Milkovich with a nostril piercing was, but that didn't mean others were.

In the end, it probably didn't even matter that Ian was one million percent down for any types of piercings Mickey wants to get—he might have even been pushing him for a nipple piercing, but the why of it was for another time—what would eventually decide whether or not the earring stayed in was the reactions of somebody other than Ian.

It was unfair, really, that others would be able to affect Mickey's decision to finally do whatever the fuck he wanted to do, despite his ever-growing confidence. Still, Ian had a way of making sure that nobody made him feel shitty for doing something he wanted to do. Something for himself, without fearing the judgment of others like he had his entire life.

He was an arsonist, for fuck's sake. Let them try and eye his husband the wrong way.

Ian perhaps expected it from old, batty women at the grocery store who didn't have a clue what century they were in or Karens who were homophobic pieces of shit—but he never would be guessed it would be his own family poking fun at something that probably took guts to do. Because it took guts to actually get something like a nose piercing if you were a Milkovich with a past of growing up in a homophobic household.

"So, uh, you gone full gay now, Mickey?"

"Watch out, Ian, I think he might out-twink you."

"You look like Sandy now. Don't be surprised if I jump you."

"I think you look cool, Mickey."

"Uncle Mickey, what's that in your nose? Can I have one?"

Mickey didn't seem to really care about the Gallaghers' opinions. It was mostly just him flipping Lip off at the twink comment and winking at Franny for that last one. Ian, on the other hand.

Ian was the one who was getting fucking offended.

What if Mickey decided that all the teasing and sideways glances aren't worth it and he takes the nose ring out? What if Ian's deprived of sexy, liberated Mickey because of assholes like his own siblings?

It didn't matter how selfish it sounded. There was no way in hell Mickey was ever going to feel conflicted over something he didn't need to feel conflicted about.

So, the second Mickey was out of the room, and the Gallaghers were still unrelenting at the teasing, Ian knew what he had to do.

"Okay, that's enough," He said simply after the eight-hundredth joke about how the ring looked like a booger in his nose—what the actual fuck, Lip?—his voice stern.

"Come on," Lip said, despite the others clearly relenting, palms going up with sheepish expressions on their faces. "We're just joking."

"Well, enough jokes. You could be more like Liam. Tell him he looks good."

Lip snorted. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I asked you to?"

"He knows it's all jokes. He doesn't even care."

"I do." Ian narrowed his eyes. "I care whether or not he feels like he's done the wrong thing because you won't shut the fuck up after the joke's not even funny anymore."

That was what made the smile on Lip's face thin. He lowered his head sightly, as of bowing it down in shame. Ian knew he had finally caught on. Finally understood that, sometimes, even jokes could hurt people's fucking feelings.

Maybe Mickey wasn't at all touched by this. Maybe he really didn't give a shit about what Lip or some old-ass grandma at the store thought. Maybe it was only Ian who gave a shit.

But fuck it, he could give enough shit for the both of them.

If it meant Mickey would always feel comfortable in his own skin, then fuck yes he could.

"Okay," Lip said simply, and Ian smiled at him, thankful.

And when Mickey reappeared with a slight frown on his face and a, "what, no more jokes?" followed by a wide smile, Ian knew he had done the right thing.

Because Mickey looked good.

And the ring stayed on.

"What is it with you and the goddamn nipple rings?"

Ian bit at his lip. Okay, he may have gone a little overboard. With all the research and the reference photos and all the places you could get one... But fuck, he had a fantasy, and he needed to see it come true.

Mickey with nipple rings.

Come the fuck on.

"Babe, listen," Ian started, moving so he was positioned against the headboard of their bed. It was almost midnight—what better time to lay it down on Mickey that he would look really fucking good with piercings in his nipples and that it would be Ian's dream come true. "They'd look so good."

"Then why don't you get them?"

Ian made an incredulous face. "Because they wouldn't look good on me. They would look good on you."

Mickey swiped at his nose, diverting Ian's attention once more to the perfection that was his black nose ring. How could Ian not see all the possibilities with multiple piercings when Mickey looked like that with just one?

"Come on," He said again, the image in his head even more vivid than before. "I googled it. It doesn't even hurt that much."

"I have a feeling like that is a very obvious lie."

Ian rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe it was.

He pushed himself back down onto the comforter, shifting so he could have access to Mickey's chest. He trailed a finger from his neck, then slowly down so it rest in between his nipples, laying out his palm so it could feel the beating of Mickey's heart.

"Imagine the sex," He whispered, trying out a new technique. Seduction. It had to work.

"Probably not until it's healed up and stops hurting," Mickey scoffed. "Also, I really don't think I'd like it. I'd look like a bull."

"You'd look like a very sexy bull. Oh, by the way, septum piercing." Ian wiggled his eyebrows. "Don't you see it? Don't you think it'd look awesome?"

Mickey looked like he was on the verge of either laughing or punching Ian straight in the dick. "I think," He began. "that I've created a monster."

"A monster who is extremely horny for your ass."

"Why do you have to have a kink for this? Ian, out of all the things. Just look up porn with a bunch of jewelry on the guys if you need to get off."

Ian frowned at the imagery. "It's not the jewelry, Mick. I've had hookups who wore a shit-ton of jewelry and it never made me all hot and bothered."

Mickey smiled at the hot and bothered part. "Dork. Then what is it?"

"Well, fucking obviously it's you."

Mickey's face lit up. "It's me?"

"Ugh, Mickey, we've been together for a while. Don't make me feel shy over this."

The exasperation made Ian's cheeks pink. Suddenly, Mickey was leaning in and pressing his lips to the heat, smiling all the way through it.

When he pulled away, there was a wide grin stretched across his face. Ian was a sucker for that grin. That grin was everything he needed in life. Nothing more.

"I won't get a nipple piercing."

Sadness. All Ian felt was sadness.

"But maybe we can check out other options." It was Mickey's turn to wiggle his eyebrows. "Tongue piercing float your boat too?"

Happiness. All Ian felt was happiness.

Eyebrow piercing. It ended up being an eyebrow piercing.

And God. Ian was done. He was completely done with everything. This was it. This was all he ever needed to see in life. Now, he could die peacefully.

He was married to the hottest man alive. Ian could pride himself in that fact. Mickey truly was the hottest person Ian had ever laid eyes on.

Especially now that he had a nose and eyebrow piercing at the same fucking time.

Ian knew there would never be another man to get his attention again. Never anybody else to make Ian feel like he need to avert his gaze. Not when all eyes went to the Mickey with the hot body, amazing ass, great face, and perfect piercings.

"Maybe you should get some piercings, too," Mickey said as they sat together at the table, munching on cereal. "I mean, if you act this way over my shit, who knows how I'll act over yours."

Ian smiled. "I can't pull anything off like you can."

"Bullshit. You're hot as fuck."

Ian's cheeks pinked. "Shut up."

"No seriously," Mickey said as he got up to get more coffee. "Hottest guy I know."

Ian licked his lips, slowly running his eyes down his husband's body. "Well then, guess we both got lucky."

Mickey smiled and the piercings come into view again.

Ian really was a complete goner.

+ 1

"No," Mickey said once he saw Ian come into view. "No. No. No."

Ian grinned widely, tilting his chin slightly so he could showcase the tiny diamond—actual diamond—studs in his ears. "You like it?"

Mickey knew then that this was what heaven felt like.

He barely stopped himself from tackling Ian onto the floor.

Oh, who the fuck is he kidding.

He didn't stop shit.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #shameless #shameless us #fanfic #PIERCINGS #piercings #5+1 things #:)))))))))#i said i had more #i wasn't lying #*ficlet

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softboywriting · 5 years

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Hitched | Shawn Mendes

Summary: After a wild night in Vegas you and Shawn end up married according to the tabloids. Will these rumors change your dynamic and be the push the two of you need to finally admit your feelings for each other, or will it be the end of your relationship both professionally and personally? [personal assistant reader] [fake married] [accidentally married] [non au theme]

Word Count: 8.5k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Early morning sun blinds you through the windows of your hotel suite. Your head pounds, body feeling like it's been hit with a sack of bricks. Your mouth is dry like sandpaper as you reach for a bottle on the nightstand. There's a heavy weight across your stomach and you look down. An arm. A bulky thick arm with the tattoo of an orchid in a light bulb. Shawn.

You push back the blankets to reveal the sleeping giant. He is sprawled out beside you on his stomach, arm across your waist, face pressed into the pillows. This wasn't the first time the two of you ended up in bed together, and it wouldn't be the last. At least he went home with you last night. As soon as the tequila shots had come out, you started to worry. Shawn and tequila don't mix well and he gets a little crazy.

A pang of sickness washes over you and you need to get up. It's not like you to drink when Shawn drinks. It's sort of your job to keep him out of trouble and on task. But shit happens. At least he's with you, like you said. You did your job well enough. You push at his arm and instead of removing it, he curls it tighter around you, pressing on your stomach.

“Shawn, I have to get up. I feel sick.”

“Mmm.” He groans and rubs his face into his pillow. “No, stay with me.”

“Shawn. Now.”

“Stop talking.” He rolls over, toward you, and tugs you closer to him. “My head hurts.”

“You're hungover.”

“Probably.”

You run your hand over his hair and glitter falls out. You have no idea where that came from but it isn't what you're really focusing on. No. The ring on your finger is what catches your eye. It's Shawn's, his pinky ring, the rose gold one. Why were you wearing it on your wedding ring finger? Why were you wearing it at all? Oh no. A portion of the night comes flooding back to you. Brian had been joking with Shawn that since he lost his passport yesterday morning, he was illegal in the USA. Oh God Shawn no. You love Shawn, hell, you know him better than most at this point. It's hard not to fall in love with someone like him, but those feelings were counterproductive to your job and he could never know. Though you suppose he already does, the two of you couldn't deny looks and familiar touches. It was complicated.

“Shawn get up,” you push him off of you and he sits up quickly. “What happened last night?”

He holds his head and groans loudly. He'd had far more to drink than you did. “I don't remember.”

You put your hand out for him. “Did we get married?”

“What?!” Shawn grabs your hand and studies the ring on your finger. “No! Why would we do that?! I know we got smashed but fucking christ.”

“I don't know! Call Brian. Maybe he remembers?”

Shawn pats around under the pillows and produces his phone. “Fuck,” he turns the screen toward you and there's a bunch of missed calls and texts. You can't help but notice his background is the two of you backstage at the capital summertime ball last year. He picked you up on his shoulders to see the stage and Brian snapped a photo. He calls Andrew instead of Brian since the missed calls were all from him.

“Morning newlyweds,” Andrews voice crackles over the speakerphone between you and Shawn. “Hungover?”

“Andrew what happened last night?”

“You guys must have been seriously messed up. You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

You sigh. “Andrew what happened?”

“Well Brian convinced Shawn that because we can't find his passport, he had to marry a US citizen to stay in the country. Which is ridiculous, because I just had to go get a temp until we can get back to Toronto and get a new one. Anyway, you and Shawn ditched everyone and went to get hitched in the basement chapel of the hotel by some Elvis impersonator who was on site for a gimmick wedding being hosted last night.”

“It's probably not even legal then. We didn't sign anything, it's just a ceremony right?”

“No, not technically, he was a justice of the peace though. Registered and everything. Brian and Zubin were your witnesses.” Andrew sighs and you roll your eyes. “Luckily it was just you four idiots and no one but us knows about this.”

Shawn holds his head. “Okay well, it's fine then.”

“Perfect. Thank Andrew.” You click to hang up and stare at Shawn. “You're so dumb y'know that?”

“Oh shut up. You obviously agreed to go along with it, so you're pretty dumb too.”

You shove him and he shoves you back, pinning you to the bed. “Shawn I swear to God if you-”

He leans down and gets close to your face. His breath ghosts over your cheek and jawline. He's going to threaten to lick you. Somehow he found out that spit grosses you out; the wet feeling, the knowing it came from someone else's mouth, all of it just squicks you out. He found out and now every chance he gets he uses it against you when he doesn't get his way or wants something. He was a damn man child sometimes. “Take it back or I'll do it.”

“Never.”

“Last chance.”

You close your eyes and wait for the worst. You'll never admit defeat. He was dumb, the whole marriage thing had to be his idea. How he convinced you in your drunken state to marry him you will never know. Obviously your brain had decided to put feelings for Shawn over work, rational thinking and common sense last night, but it's still definitely his fault.

He opens his mouth and you can feel his breath hotter than ever. You struggle against his hold and then go still when his mouth connects with your cheek. It's not spit, it's not his tongue. It's his lips, warm and soft against your skin.

“What're you doing?”

“What?”

You peek one eye open and look down at him. “Aren't you going to lick me?”

“Nah. You're my wife now.” He grins and kisses your cheek again. “I guess I gotta be sweet on you.”

“Oh shut up! I'm not actually your wife!” You shove him as he releases your arms and falls over laughing. “Get dressed chuckles. We have to be at the airport soon.”

____________________

“So are you taking my last name then?” Shawn asks with a smirk from the seat beside you. “Because I think it suits you.”

“I'm not talking to you anymore.”

“You have to! You're my assistant and my best friend.” He slides his hand over yours on the arm rest between the two of you. “Please talk to me?”

You let his fingers curl around yours as you close your eyes. He always held your hand when the plane was taking off. It's just how it was. You needed something real to hold on to until you were in the air and he was always that something. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Just answer my question. Are you taking my last name?”

“Why does it matter? We're not actually married so who cares?”

“I care.”

You cut him and glare and he isn't even smiling like he was joking. “Why?”

“I just do. Hypothetically, would you take my name?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Shawn looks satisfied with himself. You have no idea why that mattered. It wasn't like you were actually married. Well you were officiated but, y'know, whatever.

____________________

All hell breaks loose when you and Shawn walk into the central concourse of the airport you've landed at. The screams are deafening and louder than you've ever heard before. Jake tries to keep a minimum distance as you and Shawn make your way to the front doors with Andrew and the rest of the crew in tow.

“What is going on?!” You yell and Shawn falls back to put his arm around you and lean down to hear you. “I said what's going on?”

“No clue. People must be just extra excited to see me today.”

“Shawn! Shawn! Is it true?! Have you been in a secret relationship with your assistant for years?!”

Shawn looks over to the well dressed woman who's running alongside the group. She's asking all sorts of questions about you and Shawn. Obviously a reporter.

“Keep going!” Andrew yells over the crowd and comes up close behind you. “Don't answer any questions! Me and Brian will take your bags, just go!”

Shawn passes his suitcase to Brian and you give yours to Andrew. Shawn's hand finds yours and it's sweaty as he pulls you closer to Jake. He's nervous, anxious as his eyes start darting around to what you can only assume to be over a hundred people in the concourse. The two of you were used to crowds, it came with the job, but this was a swarm.

Jake pulls the two of you into a security office with help from some of the local airport security personnel. One moment you're in deafening loudness and the next it's muffled silence. Your ears are ringing and you feel like you've just survived an apocalypse. Shawn's hand is gripping yours so tight his knuckles are white and he's shaking.

“Shawn, hey,” you say softly and he looks down at you.

“Pull the blinds please,” Jake instructs to an officer by the door. She turns and pulls the blinds on the two floor to ceiling windows looking out to the hoard.

You sit Shawn down in a rolling chair behind a desk covered in paperwork. “Hey, look at me bud.”

The two officers and Jake move to the farthest corner from the two of you and talk among each other about how to clear up the situation outside the door.

Shawn looks at you and you run your hand over his hair. “Sorry, I just got overwhelmed.”

“It's cool. You know you just have to tell me and we'll fix it.”

“That woman knew. She knew about us.”

Us. As if there was really something going on between the two of you.

“She doesn't know anything. People have speculated for years about us. She probably just saw us talking when we got through the gate.” You scratch his scalp gently as he leans his forehead against your stomach. “Relax, deep breaths. Wanna do a vocal warm up to let it out?”

“No, it's fine. I just want to get to the hotel as soon as possible.”

“Jake,” you look over and he looks at you. “What's the plan to get out of here?”

“Security is going to escort us out. They've got more people coming down here to help. Just a few minutes. I've let Andrew know we're alright.”

“Thank you.”

Shawn stands up and pulls you into a hug. He presses his nose into the top of your hair and sighs. “Sorry I keep making today so stressful for you.”

“No, Shawn, it's not your fault.” You rub up his back and down again. “Things happen. We'll be okay. We always are.”

_____________________

Turns out the news has broken and the world knows that you and Shawn allegedly got married. TMZ was first to announce so you're sure that the Elvis impersonator spilled his guts for a couple hundred dollars. That son of a bitch. As if Shawn wasn't already having a hell of a time with stress on tour, this had to happen.

You don't even want to go out of the hotel now. The comments on every social media platform are enough to make you want to peel your skin off. There's two types of people it seems. Ones that think you're amazing and ones that hate your guts. For the most part it's people hating you.

“We're going to get dinner, are you coming?” Shawn asks, poking his head into your room.

“I'm gonna stay in. I don't want to go out.”

“Is it because of the gossip?”

“Yeah. I'm tired of being called ugly, fat and worthless. Why give people more fodder to keep the fire burning?”

Shawn steps in and closes the door behind him. “Why are you reading that crap?”

“I can't avoid it. Everywhere I go it's all people are talking about.” You flip through your Twitter feed and hold it up for Shawn. “Oh this is my favorite, gold digging whore.”

Shawn stalks across the room and snatches the phone from your hand. He throws it into your suitcase and squats down in front of you. “They're jealous. Angry jealous people who have no idea who you are.” He takes your hands and kisses over your knuckles. “They have no idea how beautiful and smart and funny you are.”

“Shawn...you're just saying that.”

“I'm not.” He looks at you over your hands. “I'm honored to call you my wife, real or fake, it's an honor. Any man who marries you is lucky.”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes and you look down, lip trembling.

“Let's stay in. We can rent a movie on the TV and order something to be delivered.”

“No, you go with the guys.” You pull one hand out of his and wipe your wet cheeks. “I'm fine.”

“I won't go.” He stands and crawls on to the bed, sitting behind you and dragging you between his legs. “I'd rather spend my night with you then watch Brian try to pick up the bartender for three hours straight.”

"Can we get Chinese?"

"Of course." Shawn pulls his phone out and scrolls through Google to find a local place to deliver. "You want your usual?"

"Yeah. Extra dumplings if they have them."

He brings the phone up to his ear and smiles. "Anything you want."

____________________

Two days later. Heading to the venue where Shawn is playing isn't usually a stressful thing. You've done it countless times. But you've never done it with everyone thinking you're his wife. The back of the transit van is silent, uncomfortably so. Shawn is on his phone, Andrew and Brian are staring out the windows and Connor is messing with something on his camera.

You hold your bag tight against your lap and sigh. Shawn opens his his legs and bumps your thigh. You look up and he's smiling. “What are you doing?”

“Can you hand me my notebook?”

“Yeah sure.” You dig around in your little black backpack and produce his tattered leather bound journal. It's his writing notebook and if anyone besides you ever had it he would probably explode. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, just something that's stuck in my head.” He takes it and slides the little pen out from the side and starts writing. He looks so focused as he scribbles away, striking things out and looking annoyed. His brain never stopped.

“Hey.”

You look away from Shawn to Connor who is across from the two of you and has his camera up right. “Yeah? Need something?”

“No, nevermind.”

“We're here,” Andrew says as the van comes to a halt.

Shawn closes the notebook and hands it over. “Are you nervous?”

“Are you?”

“Yeah but I have you, so it'll be okay.” He grabs your hand and squeezes. “Everyone ready?”

Everyone mumbles in unison and Jake pulls open the side door to the sound of fans yelling beyond the barriers a few yards away. No questions. No photos. Just straight into the venue.

The second you're inside the venue there are coordinators ushering you to the question and answer area that's set up in a meeting room. Usually sound check would come first but you had arrived a little later than planned due to traffic and now everything was off schedule.

Shawn goes out and the fans in the q&a scream and greet him. You take a seat behind curtain that is put up as a backdrop in the front area where Shawn sits. You open up your laptop and start working on the checklist for the show tonight while also looking up local gyms for Shawn while he's in town.

Twenty minutes pass and you hear Shawn say your name. You pull out your headphones and listen to what he's saying, wondering what the question was. He just wants a bottle of water and you grab one off a cart nearby.

You don't think anything of it when you walk out in front of everyone to hand him his water. You've done it a hundred times. You don't realize that you've really messed up until the fans are awwing and suddenly asking questions over each other.

“Did you guys get married for real?”

“How long have you been together?”

“Are you really his assistant?”

Shawn sighs and you can see Jake who is off to the side next to you just shake his head. “I'm sorry, I didn't even think about it when I asked for water.”

“It's fine. Just act like everything is normal.” You grab his empty bottle and he pops open the top of the new one. “And don't answer any questions about me.”

“I promise I won't.”

You turn and walk away, giving a little wave to the fans as you go around the back again to take your place at your laptop on an amp box.

____________________

The next night you, Shawn and a couple of the guys go out to a bar near the hotel. It's a really upscale place, private too. It's nice being able to relax and just let loose the stress from the last few days and not have anyone recognize you for a few hours.

Drinks are flowing, music is playing, you are dancing with a couple people. It feels good. Someone's hands find your waist from behind and they pull you against their solid warm body. You stiffen up, not comfortable with the sudden contact.

“You smell really good.” Shawn murmurs against your hair. “Like really good.”

You relax, trusting him and no longer worrying about it being some stranger making a move. “I just washed my hair with my usual stuff.” You turn in his hold to face him and he drops his forehead against yours. His eyes are focused on you, a little glassy from alcohol and you wonder how many drinks he's had.

“You are so beautiful.” He smiles and closes his eyes. “You just...wow.”

“Shawn, you've had way too much.” You reach up and play with the curls at the back of his neck. You've had a few yourself. “I thought you weren't going to drink much because your next show is in three days.”

“I'll be fine.”

“It's not like you.”

“I just wanted to relax.” He leads you over to a lounge area with some couches and falls back on his ass, pulling you down on top of him.

You sit on his lap and he smiles at you like a cat who caught a canary. “What are you grinning about?”

“You.” He runs his hand up your back and you loop your arm around the back of his neck. “I wanna kiss you.” He leans up so he's face to face with you. “I want to kiss you all over.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to kiss my wife.” He grins.

You roll your eyes. “I'm not your wife doofus.”

He leans in closer and bumps his nose with yours, breath ghosting over your lips. You're too drunk to handle this right now. Everything in you wants him and it's so hard to say no. You've kissed before but it wasn't like this, well, it was. You were drunk then too but it wasn't in public and with speculation of being married hanging in the air.

“This is a bad idea,” you whisper, eyes going to his pink lips and he shakes his head slightly. “Yes it is.”

“Stop talking.” He leans in and kisses you, hands going to your hair as he licks into your mouth. You take a deep breath and re-position yourself so you're straddling his thighs. He drops one hand to your waist and you feel like you just can't get enough. You can't seem to break away from him as he kisses you better than anyone you've ever been with. You know the two of you will end up going back to the hotel together, there was absolutely no doubt about that at this point. It's just a matter of how far this was going to go.

____________________

The next morning you wake up and it's like deja vu. Shawn's arm is across your stomach and your head hurts. Only this time you remember the night before. You remember walking with Shawn back to the hotel and making out in the elevator. Fumbling with his key card to get his room open. And then watching him literally collapse on the bed and pass out. You knew he'd had way too much.

“Morning,” you says softly, running your hand through his hair. He rubs his face into his pillow and groans at the morning light. “Hungover?”

“Very. My head is throbbing.”

“Let me help.” You sit up and guide him to lay his head on a pillow you pull over onto your lap. You massage your fingers into his temples and he groans softly.

“You're the best.”

“Mmhmm.” You massage over his eyes and cheeks and he just let's his jaw go slack. He's so soft like this, trusting in you completely. The last few days have been a wild ride and gone farther than your professional relationship with him should go. It's like since finding out you got hitched by the Elvis impersonator, all inhibitions were gone. The line between coworker and relationship was getting blurrier by the second and you have to redraw it before it is too late.

“You're a really good kisser.” Shawn mumbles, smiling to himself.

“So you remember some of last night?”

“Mmm yeah.” He opens his eyes and you stop rubbing his temples. “You can't deny that there's something more between us.”

“I can't, but there shouldn't be.” You return to rubbing and go down around the back of his neck eliciting a soft moan from him. “I'm your assistant first and foremost. We need to remember that.”

“Yeah.” He says softly, closing his eyes again. You know he isn't going to cave that easily. It's not like him to drop a subject just like that but you know he doesn't want to argue or anything with his head killing him. And that's just fine.

____________________

Shawn wraps his arms around you from behind and walks with his head on your shoulder. "What're you going to get?"

"I don't know, we came for you to get stuff."

"Yeah, but...I know you want something."

The two of you round the corner to the health care isle in the little 24 hour convenience store. The two of you had come down for snacks after Shawn said he needed some jerky and a Snickers. The funny thing is that those two things were your usual period cravings, and you happen to be on your period.

"Shawn, did you want to come here because of me?"

"What do you mean?" He pulls away and grabs a box of Tylenol off the shelf to toss into the bag you're carrying.

"Come on. Snickers and jerky? That's my craving snack."

Shawn grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. "Am I that obvious?"

You roll your eyes. "You're transparent."

He walks over and puts his arm around your shoulders. "I just wanted to help. I saw you were having bad cramps earlier during rehearsal."

"Is that why you brought me tea from the catering cart?"

"Yeah."

You lean your head on his chest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He kisses your head. "Lets get those snacks and head back."

____________________

“You're still wearing the ring,” Shawn says, pointing to your hand curled around the clipboard you're holding. The second show this week is about to start and he's getting his in ears put in.

“So?”

“So? Why didn't you take it off? It's been like five days.”

You shrug and touch the little rose gold band. “It's pretty. I guess I didn't notice.” You point at his hand and he has one of his gold bands around his ring finger still too. “What's your excuse?”

Shawn shrugs. “I guess I didn't notice.”

You narrow your eyes at him and he grins. “Maybe you want to be married to me.”

“Maybe you do too.”

“In your dreams.”

“I've had a lot of dreams come true y'know.” Shawn laughs and goes to the side stage to get ready to go on. You follow him over and touch his arm gently. “Hmm?”

“I forgot to tell you to have a good show.”

He leans over and kisses your cheek, making your heart race. “Always do.”

“Pinkies for luck?”

Shawn hooks his pinky with yours and the rings click together, making him grin. You pull away and run your hand over his hair to fluff it up as the band starts playing his intro. He keeps smiling at you and walks out on to stage, bringing his mic up to greet everyone in the arena. You twist the ring around on your finger and it sends an ache through your chest. Why hadn't you taken it off?

____________________

The show is going great and you are beaming at him the whole time. He keeps doing this thing where he looks over at you and you try to keep out of view so people don't know what he's looking at. Connor asks if you'll follow him during Bad Reputation because he doesn't want to hit anything while he watches the camera screen. You've done it several times and you know all you have to do is literally walk behind him and tell him if he's going to hit an amp or something.

Zubin and Shawn are going to town on the guitar when it happens. You're following Connor but he's walking too quick, your eyes are on Shawn as he does a little grabby hand wave at you and you trip on a set of cables sticking out off the light box at the base of the stage. You go sprawling, scraping your knees on the hard concrete floor of the arena.

“Fucking shit!” you yell as you turn over and dust yourself off. Your jeans are torn in the knees and there's blood starting to stain on the left one.

Suddenly Shawn is by your side, guitar on his back as he kneels down beside you. “Are you okay? I saw you go down behind Connor.”

“What're you doing!? Get back up there!”

“It's fine Zubin is doing his thing.” Shawn puts an arm behind your back and the other under knees, lifting you up bridal style. “Ah shit your knee is bleeding.”

“Put me down. I'm fine.”

“No you're not! Look at your knee!”

You glance down and yeah your jeans were pretty much destroyed by the big bloody patch. It was starting to ache too, a dull throb right over your knee cap. “You're really not helping with the rumors right now y'know.”

“I really don't care.” Shawn places you gently on an equipment box backstage as Jake and one of the stage hands come over with a first aid kit.

“I'll be fine. Go back out there.” He starts to protest and you grab his face and force him to look at you. “Leave me and go do the show.”

Shawn leans in and kisses your lips quickly before turning and running back out on stage. Your heart stops and you are left in a stunned state, just gawking off at the stage. Did he really just kiss you? What the hell? He...you weren't...fuck.

“Hey, hello!” The stage hand, Nick, waves his hand in your face. “I can't clean it with your jeans on. Can we go to the catering room or something and have you take them off?”

“Yeah....yeah sure.” You bring your focus back to your knee and as you try to stand up on it, you wobble. Nick supports you as you head for the inner concourse and Jake stays behind.

“I'll tell him where you are when he gets done, don't worry,” Jake says with a smile. You know he seen the kiss, hell, anyone in the vicinity saw it. Shawn was not making this easy.

As soon as the show ends Shawn is in the catering room with you. He's pretty sweaty when he comes in but you don't really care because he's got eyes for no one but you. He kneels down beside you and cradles your knee in his big hands, fingers ghosting over the gauze wrapped skin.

“You had to cut your jeans?” He asks, sliding his hand over your thigh where your jeans are cut off just over the wound.

“Yeah. I couldn't get my jeans off and they were already ruined.”

“Let me carry you to the car.”

“Shawn I can walk. It's not that bad now.”

He gives you a hard look. “You're hurt.”

“It's just a scraped knee.”

“Please, let me carry you. You're my w- it's my fault. If you hadn't been watching me wave at you, you wouldn't have tripped.”

You sigh, defeated. “I'm not going to change your mind am I?”

“Nope.” Shawn gets up and picks you up bridal style again, holding you close to his chest. You can smell his shampoo from his damp hair, curls falling in his face. “Let's go, I'll have one of the guys bring my stuff.”

“I need my bag.”

Shawn leans down and you grab your backpack off the couch you were sitting on. With that he carries you alongside Jake as he heads for the cars out back.

The second you get to the doors you see a bunch of fans waiting around to hopefully get a picture with Shawn beyond the security fence. The fans start screaming as soon as he walks out in the open carrying you toward the car. They’re waving and calling out both of your names as camera flashes go off.

“You can go ahead and take pictures.” You say to Shawn and he shakes his head. “Seriously, just drop me off in the car. I'll wait.”

“No. I want to go back to the hotel and shower and relax with you. Besides they've got their pictures.” He grins.

“Shawn.” You touch his cheek and he leans into your hand. “Please. I know you want to go say hi.”

“I do, but I really want to relax too.” Jake opens the door for Shawn and he lowers you to your feet and helps you into the car. “And relaxing comes first today.”

____________________

“Hey, are you feeling up to going out?”

You raise your eyebrows and he smiles sheepishly, knowing that you're not supposed to be seen together alone until the whole marriage thing blows over, but you're still his friend and assistant and honestly that concept of hiding it had gone out the window days ago. “Like...where?”

“Ed's in town. He texted me and asked if I want to hang out and see the show tonight.”

“Sure. Anyone else going?”

“I think Brian is gonna go.”

“What time?”

“Around seven.”

“I'll see you then.”

The concert is loud as hell, just like Shawn's are. You're stood in a private section with a few other people from Ed's crew and it's just you and Shawn. Brian didn't ever show up, and honestly you think Shawn didn't actually invite him.

Nearly forty minutes pass and Ed ends castle on the hill and starts up the chords to Perfect, his final song on the set list. Shawn wraps his arms around you from behind and you look up at him.

“I found a love, for me...” Shawn sings along softly with Ed.

“You planned this didn't you?”

“Planned what?”

“Being here together and without Brian. This is a date, isn't it?”

Shawn rolls his eyes. “A date? Really? We're just seeing Ed.”

“A concert can be a date y'know.”

“Shh.” Shawn lays his chin on your head and starts humming along to the song. The arena is dark and everyone has their phones out, swaying along to the song. It's beautiful. “Dancing in the dark, with you between my arms.” He sings softly against your head and you hold onto his arms now wrapped around your shoulders.

You take his hand and he turns you around, stepping back and grinning at you. He keeps singing as he slow dances with you, swinging you out and bringing you close in time with the music. “You're ridiculous,” you laugh and he just holds you against him.

“You love it,” he says quietly, turning you around once more and pulls you back against his chest. “And you look perfect...tonight.”

The song comes to an end and you hold Shawn's hands in yours. He kisses the side of your head and you're absolutely gone for him. He's knows it. You know it. The whole damn world probably knows it by now. ____________________

“Where's my notebook?”

“In the suitcase.” You point to his bulky black bag. “Outer pocket.”

Shawn digs into the bag and brings it out, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and writing furiously. You learned ages ago not to bother asking what was in that little journal. You know usually it's lyrics or little bits or inspiration. You never read it, no matter how many times he has you carry it in your bag, you never ever open that book.

“We've got to get going Shawn. Can you write in the car?”

“No.”

You drag his bag off the bed and over to the door. Yours is already there waiting, you had brought it over to save you from grabbing it later after helping Shawn get everything together.

“The plane won't wait.”

Shawn looks up and rolls his eyes. “Just a moment.”

“Alright.” You lean against the door and close your eyes. You're exhausted, the concert with Ed had ended up going until around nine and then visiting lasted until well after midnight. Every time Shawn and Ed got together it was like a recording session. The two were definitely of the same bunch. Now you had a six hour flight to get on back to Toronto.

“I’m ready.” Shawn whispers in your ear and your eyes fly open and you jump, making him laugh. “Let's go home.”

You swat at his chest and he grabs his bag handle. “You're such a turd.”

“I just like teasing you. Come on.”

The two of you head down to the lobby to meet Andrew and Brian and the rest of the crew. “So, what're you writing in that book?”

“Curious?”

“Well yeah, that's why I'm asking. I know usually you don't tell anyone. You've just seemed very engrossed in it lately.”

“I've been writing lyrics. I want to meet up with Teddy and see if we can't get something together. I've just...got this feeling and I want to put it into words.”

You round the corner to the lobby and Andrew looks up from his phone. “About time you two.”

“Leave the love birds alone, don't you know, they're newlyweds.” Brian teases, dragging his suitcase around behind the two of you toward the doors.

“Fuck off Brian!” Shawn yells and you elbow him for yelling in the lobby.

The rest of the trip home goes smoothly, you sleep on the plane with Shawn leaning against you and it's possibly the best sleep you've had in a few days. Landing back in Toronto is a bit annoying, as fans have come to meet you and Shawn at the airport like usual. Only now they're rowdier than ever due to the news about your alleged marriage.

"Don't pay attention to any of it." Shawn says, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and staring down at your phone. You've just arrived at his apartment and you'll be leaving tomorrow to go to your own place in New York. "We'll just lay low and then in a few weeks it'll all be over."

"Yeah I guess. How exactly do we convince fans we aren't hitched?"

"Probably should take off the rings."

You pocket your phone and hold your hand out in front of you. Honestly you've grown accustomed to the little ring on your finger. It fits so comfortably.

“Maybe being married isn't such a bad thing.”

You look up from your hand to where Shawn is now across the bedroom lying on the bed on his stomach. “What?”

“I mean, aren't we already kind of married?”

“No?”

“Think about it. You know more about me than anyone. You can read me like an open book. We're always together, I trust you more than anyone and we definitely have chemistry. We have such a connection, it's insane. Maybe it's not such a bad idea.”

You close your eyes and sigh softly. “You cannot be serious. We can't be married. We just can't. I'm your assistant, not your wife.”

“Technically you're both right now.”

“Shawn. It wasn't a legal binding ceremony.”

He gets up and walks over to you, taking your hands in his. “Come on. You'd get so many benefits as my wife. You could come to awards shows with me, walk red carpets, be on my health care plan. I can also avoid the “when are you going to have a girlfriend?” conversations. I really don't see any downsides.”

“Really? No downsides? What about dating? What about falling in love and wanting to marry someone for real? I can do pretty much all that other stuff as your assistant if you want me to. None of it has to do with me being your wife or not. And why don't you have a girlfriend? You're like the most eligible bachelor in history. Rich, gorgeous, young and talented. What's the deal?”

“You know why I don't. Besides I don't want to marry someone else.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Why the hell would you want to marry me in the first place? And on that note, no, I don't know why you don't have a girlfriend, besides being on tour and stuff.”

“You really don't get it do you?”

“For the love of God, why can't you stop talking in riddles for like five minutes?”

“It’s because I'm in love with you.”

Your heart stops. He doesn't mean it like that. He can't. He isn't allowed to. No. He can't. You didn't want to hear those actual words, it made it all too real.

“Shawn, I think you really need to think about that. You can't just say that lightly.”

“I have thought about it.” He walks you over to the couch just past the doorway into the living room. “It's all I think about all the time. I've wanted to tell you for the last three years but how do you tell your assistant that sort of thing? And I wanted to be sure you felt the same, or you at least had an interest in me. You're hard to read though. I could never figure out what you were thinking until this last year, hell, the last few weeks when I realized you've been holding back.”

“Shawn... I-I don't know.”

He takes your hand and threads his fingers between yours. “Don't hold back. Do you want to be with me?”

“I mean, yeah, of course. More than anything Shawn, but...we can't.”

“We can. We absolutely can.”

"But my job and the fans...it's a lot to handle."

"And yet we've been doing it for the last week basically."

“I...I should go.” You pull your hand away and stand. You grab your bag and head for the door. There isn't really anywhere to go besides your place. The second you get out the front doors you call a cab. It wasn't as if you didn't feel the same way about him, because you did. It's just...it would never work. If you mixed your job with your relationship it could end badly. That's what you've been telling yourself anyway. There's a line, a very clear line, and you can't bring yourself to cross it...though you've definitely been bending over it a bit. Well, maybe a lot.

____________________

The sun is just starting to set as you take your seat on a plane flying to New York. You're alone, carry-on bag in the compartment over your seat. You called and talked to Andrew about what happened. He was fine with it, in fact he'd rather Shawn be with you then deal with bringing a whole new person into the picture, but you still don't think it's for the best. Four years, four long amazing years and just like that you find yourself out of a job and heading back to your hometown.

You didn't say goodbye to Shawn. You couldn't. The next time you see him will be...well, no, you don't know when that might be. You lean your head back and fight the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. You want to stay, you do, but you can't hurt Shawn if things go bad or just don't work out. The stress and tension that would put on your professional relationship would be too much. You won't break his heart, you just won't.

You put on your headphones, lean your head back and put on a sleep mask. If you just tuned it out you would be fine. Minutes pass and you feel the plane start to move, taxiing to the runway for take off. You feel your nerves getting the best of you, hand curled around the end of the arm rest. You never flew alone, you always flew with Shawn.

A hand covers yours and you jump, jerking away. You pull your sleep mask off to see who the hell thought it was okay to touch you. Your heart drops when you see Shawn in the seat beside you.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks, irritation evident in his voice.

“I'm going home.”

“You're running away.”

“I'm not. It's for the best.”

“The best for who?.”

You look away and clench your jaw. “You don't get it Shawn.”

He reaches over and turns your head to look at him. “No, you don't get it. You are running away because you're scared. You're scared to admit that we have something special because you're afraid it won't work out. But let me tell you what, you've seen me at my worst and my best and I've seen you in both lights as well. I think you know just as well as I do that we're meant to be together.”

“But what if it doesn't work out?”

“And what if it does? You can't try and take the safe route every time. There is nothing about our relationship that says it won't work. Please, do you know how hard it was to be told that you quit all of a sudden? That after spending a good part of four years together, you were just going to walk out of my life? Do you know how bad that hurt?”

“I just thought it'd be easier. I didn't want to hurt you.”

Shawn pushes up the arm rest and scoots closer to you. “Nothing is going to be easy. It never is.” He grabs your hand and threads his fingers between yours. “Please don't leave. You're my best friend. You don't want to hurt me but this, leaving, is going to kill me.”

“How'd you find me?"

"You always fly Delta when you go home. I just checked for a flight to New York and got a ticket. It doesn't matter."

You sigh and lean your head on his shoulder. "You really want to do this?"

"Yes. And we don't have to be married, we can just date. I just want you in my life, please."

"I want you in mine too." You hold his face and he tilts your head up to kiss you gently. "I suppose we're just a little backwards on all this, getting married and then dating."

"I guess this is where we start then."

You smile and he kisses you again, and again and again.

_____________________

Three months later

"Babe, did you get the email from Teddy about the song?" Shawn asks as he pulls on a suit jacket.

You glance over at his stylist who's holding up two shirts to the jacket. Shawn is standing there with his arms out like a dork while she works her magic. "I haven't gotten any emails from her. I have one from Connor though?"

"What's Connor sent? It must be a big file if he can't text it."

"Let me open it." You click the link and it opens a video in the media player on your laptop. The playback opens with you sitting on Shawn's shoulders at capital summertime ball, the moment Shawn had on his lock screen photo. From there it cuts to you and Shawn backstage playing slaps before a show and him squealing every time you faked him out. Then it's the two of you sharing a strawberry shake from McDonald's. You remember that day, he said he didn't want anything and ended up stealing half of your order.

"What is it?" Shawn asks, sliding off the suit jacket and walking over to lean on the back of the couch.

On the screen you and Shawn pose like goofballs in his new merch for the tour. The two of you sleeping on a couch backstage at some event. Shawn putting his jacket over your shoulders during a late night video shoot. Then there is recently, the two of you in the back of the car when he asked for his notebook. You can see that Shawn is stealing glances as he writes, something you hadn't noticed at the time. There's footage of Shawn at the concert jumping off stage to pick you up after you tripped. And finally, the last little bit is when the two of you were boarding the plane home and you grab Shawn's hand as you walk through the boarding tunnel.

"Wow..." You laugh softly, covering your mouth. "We're so transparent."

"Connor...he really did that." Shawn leans over and kisses your cheek. "I guess everyone knew we were together before we did."

"Yeah. Obviously."

"I'm going to have Teddy send you a copy of the new song." He turns back to his stylist and she holds out his shirt she's chosen. "I want you to listen to it tonight and tell me what you think."

"This is the song you've been keeping top secret for the last month?"

He grins sheepishly. "Yes, I promise it's worth it."

"Your songs are always worth it. I'm pretty sure you've never written a bad song."

"You're so sweet."

"Only to you."

_____________________

Shawn goes out to sit at some awards show and you stay behind in the green room. You've had enough with award shows in the last few years. They're usually too loud and full of cringey dialogue. You put in your head phones and press play on the file that Teddy sent to you. She didn't send any explanation other than a little winking smiley face and honestly you're suspicious. Shawn has never kept a song from you before.

"Put my heart on the line so many times, but when I'm with you I know I'll be fine. I'm falling, falling in love with you. Can't stop this feeling I know it's true."

Your eyes go wide as you realize this song is definitely about you. "Oh my God. Shawn..." You laugh to yourself as you begin to tear up. It's catchy and touching and...how dare he.

You finish the song and go to find him out in the crowded ballroom. You make your way through the room full of people and find his spot empty near the front next to Ed and his wife.

"Where is Shawn?" You ask Ed and he points toward the doors you came through saying he got up a few minutes ago.

You turn and double back to see if he's in the bathroom but there is absolutely no one in the halls.

"Honey, what're you doing?" Shawn laughs, and you turn to see him walking out of the green room. "I thought you wanted to chill in the back, I came to see how you were doing."

You walk up to him and he puts his arms around you. "You wrote a song about me."

"Yes I did."

"Everyone is going to know."

Shawn grins and runs his hand up your back. "Yes they will."

"A song!"

"Yes. You inspire me, I couldn't not write something about how I've felt for ages. Teddy helped me make it into something amazing. I'm really excited to release it."

You lay your hand on his cheek and he leans into it. "You're lucky I love you."

He kisses you softly and smiles. "What're you doing later?"

"Going to the after party with you?"

"Yeah, well I heard there's a wedding going on here tomorrow. Maybe the officiator will be around."

"Shawn."

"Maybe I should make you a legal Canadian citizen this time around." He grins and you narrow your eyes at him. "What do you think?"

"I think you're soft."

He slides his hand into yours and brings it up to kiss your joined hands. "It's been almost three and a half months and you haven't taken off my ring."

You flush and look away. "Yeah well...it's nice."

"Mmhmm."

"Okay, yeah...I want to be more than your girlfriend." You smile and look up at him. "I've wanted it for ages, but isn't it a little fast?"

"I don't think building up to this for three years is fast."

"You're right...I've just been thinking about it as the last few months but it has been years hasn't it?" You chuckle and shake your head. "Are you proposing to me then?"

"Yes." He drops down on one knee and reaches into his jacket pocket. "Will you be my wife, my assistant and my best friend?"

"You...have a ring on you?"

"Yeah I...I got it a while back." He looks at the ring and up at you. "I've just been carrying it around and waiting for the right moment to give it to you."

"You're such a sap."

"Yeah but, you already knew that. So, tell me, will you be my everything?"

You slide off Shawn's ring and pick up the ring from its box and slide it over your ring finger. "Yes. Yes I will."

Shawn stands and cups your face, kissing you softly. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The end.

__________________

Thank you so much for reading! Please reblog if you read and if you enjoyed it.

Shout out to @shawnm521 for help and inspiration with this one, you are seriously the ultimate muse and I couldn’t be more grateful.

Please let me know what you think, what your favorite parts are and more via ask, reblog, reply or message. Thank you again!

-A

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helloalycia · 5 years

Text

fake dating [three] // brie larson

summary: you and Brie are now in Hawaii and it's time for you to play the part and get through the wedding one day at a time, starting with the engagement party.

warning/s: none.

author's note: thank you for all the lovely comments! It means a lot to know y'all are liking this mini fic :)

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"This is beautiful," I said, looking out the balcony with my jaw dropped. We had the perfect view of the beach.

"As if your mum booked us the best room after hers," Brie said from behind me, and I turned to see her looking in the mini fridge.

"Gotta let everyone know her daughter is well looked after," I muttered, before dropping myself on the queen-sized. I glared at the ceiling. "Damn that softness."

Brie laughed before dropping herself beside me, leaning on her elbows. She grinned down at me. "You know, I saw an arcade on the way up here. And we technically don't have anything to do until tomorrow."

I smiled. "I saw it, too, you child."

She gave me a knowing look. "Don't act like you don't want to go down there."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I do. C'mon."

She laughed and the two of us left our suitcases, deciding to head straight down to the arcade room. We walked in and saw it was huge. I wasn't expecting anything less from a five star hotel in Hawaii to be honest.

"Best part about all of this is that it's free," I said to Brie, before grabbing her hand and dragging her to the first game I saw – a retro racing game. "I'll go first and I challenge you to try and beat me."

"A whole beach and we're in here playing arcade games," Brie said, shaking her with amusement. "You're on, Y/L/N."

I grinned before leaning over the console, using the buttons to control the car onscreen. I felt Brie behind me, leaning her head on my shoulder and watching closely which made me smile. When the game ended and I came in third place, I gave her a teasing smile.

"Your go," I said, stepping to the side. "Good luck."

"Won't need it," she said, grinning as she had her go.

I stood behind her, watching as she had her go. I hugged her from behind, leaning my head on her shoulder as I watched carefully. She was nearing second place and I grew nervous.

"You should have picked a different game because I'm totally about to kick your butt," she said with a smirk, her eyes glued to the screen.

"Game isn't over yet," I mumbled, watching the map in the corner.

Laughter flew from her lips as she crossed the finish line, coming in first place. I let go of her waist and she turned around, grinning down at me.

"You were saying?" she teased with a raised eyebrow.

I couldn't stop myself from smiling, despite the fact that she'd won. She looked so cute and her happiness was contagious.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

A voice pulled us from our friendly competition and my smile faded when I turned and saw one of my mum's colleagues approaching us. She had her kid following behind, his eyes glued to his phone as if he'd rather be anywhere else but here.

"Mrs. Carter," I greeted with a forced smile. "Yes, it's me."

"Wow, you've grown up!" she said in what I think was a nice voice. She looked me up and down before seeing Brie stood next to me. "And this must be your girlfriend! Your mum mentioned."

Brie glanced at me before smiling politely at Mrs. Carter. "Hi, I'm Brie."

"Great to meet you, Brie," Mrs. Carter said, a smile on her face. She looked between us both before adding, "What a lovely couple you both make."

I felt my cheeks growing warm. "Erm, thanks, Mrs. Carter."

"This is my son, Harry," she said, before stepping to the side to reveal her young son, playing a game on his phone. "He wanted to play in the arcade so here we are!"

I nodded, smiling awkwardly. "Lovely."

"Harry, say hi, don't be rude," she urged her son to speak, and when he didn't listen, she grabbed his phone from his grasp, making me stifle a chuckle.

Brie snickered behind me, only fuelling my laughter.

"Mum!" Harry whined, before looking at us. When he saw Brie, his eyes widened. "You're that girl!"

Brie raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"The new superhero! They announced it on Marvel's instagram!" he continued, excited now.

"Captain Marvel," I filled in for him, to which he nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah! Captain Marvel!"

Brie laughed. "Yeah, that's me, Harry. Do you want a photo?"

He nodded, starstruck at the sight of Brie.

"That okay with you?" she asked Mrs. Carter, who seemed glad that her son was talking to actual people.

She nodded, smiling. "Of course."

I watched as Brie kneeled down and took a selfie with Harry. I sometimes forgot that Brie was becoming a bigger and bigger star every day, especially now that she was going to be apart of the Marvel universe. It was hard to remember when she was always my best friend, not this fancy Oscar-winning actress.

"Right, well we should be going now," Mrs. Carter said after their photo. She looked to me, winking playfully. "You bagged a good one here, Y/N." She looked to Brie. "Great to meet you, Brie. I'll see you girls tomorrow at the party!"

We both waved goodbye as she left the arcade room, eventually being left alone.

"Cute kid, funny mum," Brie commented, and I looked to her before we both started to laugh.

"One of my mum's colleagues down, ten million more to go," I said, rolling my eyes playfully. "Thanks again for being here."

"Anything for my girlfriend," she joked, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leading me to the next game – basketball. "New challenge?"

I grinned. "You're on."

***

First day in Hawaii wasn't so bad and that was because I forgot, for a moment, why I was there in the first place. Brie and I had fun in the arcade, hung out in the hot tub and went for a walk on the beach. She ended up going to the gym that evening, since she promised her trainer she'd keep on top of everything whilst out here, but when she came back, we went for dinner at the hotel's restaurant and then headed to bed.

Today, however, was the first day of many that I was dreading. My mum's engagement party. It was an outdoor party, in a lovely courtyard by the beach and I admittedly fell in love with the decorations and layout. But then I saw the guests and was reminded of the mingling.

"You see your mum?" Brie asked from beside me.

I looked around and spotted my mum by the buffet table, standing with Isaac and talking to some guests.

"Over there," I said, nodding in her direction, before looking to Brie.

She looked really good, I must admit. She was wearing a light blue pantsuit, a belt wrapped around her waist, accentuating her figure. Her short blonde hair was left out and she had minimal makeup on, but she didn't really need it. Yeah, definitely a superstar. A beautiful one at that.

"You wanna say hi?" she asked, meeting my eyes.

I shook my head, not yet ready to face my mum and her probable snarky comments about what a failure I was. "I'm good."

She cracked a smile. "Okay, how about this. I go and get a drink, greet them, say you're in the toilet or something, and you can say hi later. That way we aren't being rude by not going over there at all."

I smiled. "This. This is why I love you."

She laughed and squeezed my hand gently before letting go and walking over there. I busied myself by turning around and pulling out my phone. It didn't last long though, because I felt a presence before me. When I looked up, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Look who it is - our favourite cousin!"

"I'm your only cousin," I pointed out to Naomi, one of two of my annoying cousins.

"Hence our favourite!" Naomi grinned, and I groaned inwardly. "Long time, no see, Y/N."

"Could have been longer," I mumbled.

"It's amazing how we're all back together after so long," Naomi commented, before glancing at her brother. "Don't you think, Kieran?"

Kieran nodded. "Definitely. You still doing that whole counselling thing, Y/N?"

"Yeah," I answered with a bored voice.

"Too much work involved to just be a doctor, I assume," he said, before snickering with his sister.

I rolled my eyes and chose not to say anything. They weren't worth it and if I didn't let them get to me, they wouldn't win, right?

"Little birdy told us that you brought someone with you this week," Naomi said, smiling deviously at me. "Some actress?"

"The hot blonde from that Kong: Skull Island film, I heard," Kieran added with a smirk.

"She's got a name," I snapped, glaring at Kieran. "It's Brie, not 'the hot blonde'. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't refer to her as that."

"Woah, someone's defensive!" Naomi laughed, nudging her brother. "Better back off, Kieran. It sounds serious."

"I see you both haven't changed," I said harshly.

"Oh, but you have," Naomi said, glaring down at me with a devilish smile on her lips, "haven't you, Y/N? Rubbing shoulders with celebrities now."

I scoffed, crossing my arms.

"Where is she, anyway?" Kieran asked, quirking an eyebrow. "You make her up?"

"What, like you made up that marriage two years ago?" I retorted, staring at him.

His smirk faded into an angry frown. "That wasn't made up – she wanted a divorce as soon as it happened. It was a rough time."

I suppressed a smile. "Riiiiiight."

"Listen, you little–"

"Babe, there you are!" Brie's voice cut off Naomi, and I felt an arm lace around my waist before feeling a kiss on my cheek, quite close to the corner of my lips which made me feel warm inside. I turned and saw Brie smiling by my side. Saved by the bell, I guess.

"Hey," I said, returning the smile, also trying not to laugh at Naomi's change in expression. "Brie, these are my cousins. Naomi and Kieran."

I watched as Naomi and Kieran forced smiles on their faces and greeted Brie. I almost wanted to take a picture of this moment because it was too good.

"This is my girlfriend, Brie," I introduced her to them, giving them a knowing grin.

They didn't know what to say and I glanced at Brie, only to see her suppressing a laugh.

"Nice meeting you, Brie, but my brother and I should get going," Naomi said as politely as she could muster. "Bye."

Brie waved with a grin on her lips, and when they both disappeared, I breathed out in relief before giving Brie a hug. She was surprised, but laughed and returned the hug.

"What was that for?" she asked when I pulled away, a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes.

"Coming in when you did," I said, not quite letting go of her arms just yet. "Naomi was about to bite my head off."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Typical Y/N. I leave you alone for two minutes."

I chuckled. "Seriously, though. One conversation with them and I already want to kill them. I'm so glad you're here with me."

"Anytime," she said, giving me a knowing look. "You've got this."

I sighed, glancing around, looking at everyone we'd have to greet otherwise my mum would kill me.

"Yeah, I think I do," I said, nodding. "Just don't leave me alone again please."

She laughed and intertwined our fingers, gently rocking our hands between us. "I won't, Y/N. I promise."

We walked a little, a silence settling between us, before I blurted out, "You look really nice by the way."

Brie smiled, but her cheeks flushed a little. "Thanks... so do you. I was going to tell you earlier, but you were having a mental breakdown, so..."

I breathed out, suppressing a smile. "Sounds about right. But thanks."

I looked to her and saw her smiling to herself, only making me smile, too. I realised I quite liked the feeling of her hand in mine.

***

"...and I want to thank you all for being here to celebrate with us this week," Isaac said, grinning at everybody in the marquee set up for the lunch. "Y/M/N and I couldn't be any more happier to celebrate with all of our friends and family."

Everybody began to clap and cheer for the engaged couple, making Isaac pause momentarily. Brie and I joined in with the clapping, and admittedly, I smiled at Isaac and my mum, happy that they were happy.

"Now, speaking of family, I know speeches are for the wedding reception, but I wanted to say something quick," he continued when the clapping came to a stop. His eyes fell on me, myself sat opposite him on the lead table. "Y/N, I wanted to thank you for always being so supportive of your mother and I's relationship. It's very reassuring to know I have your approval and I'm glad I can eventually call you my step-daughter. Thank you."

I smiled awkwardly, not appreciating the attention of everyone in the room on me right now. People clapped and some began to chant "speech! speech!" making me widen my eyes. Hell to the no.

"You want to make a speech?" Isaac asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes as he held out the microphone.

"Er..."

"Go on, Y/N, you got this," Brie encouraged, grinning beside me, before grabbing my hand and squeezing gently.

Not really having a choice, I stood up and accepted the microphone, watching as Isaac took his seat and everybody went quiet. All eyes were on me and I felt Brie letting go of my hand, but I pulled it back, intertwining our fingers. Moral support was good right now, and she made me feel a lot better.

"Erm, well, as Isaac said, speeches are usually for the wedding reception, so I don't really have anything prepared," I joked awkwardly, which thankfully gained a few laughs. "I guess, thank you for all showing up. It's great to see so many of you again and catch up. We're all here to celebrate the same thing – my mum and Isaac's engagement." I looked to them both, before settling my gaze on Isaac. "Isaac, I couldn't have asked for a better man to marry my mum. You make her happy and I'm grateful. It's an honour to eventually be your step-daughter. So thank you."

I awkwardly turned off the mic and placed it on the table, sitting back down as people clapped. Isaac looked over the moon with my words which warmed my heart. He tried hard in the early stages of our relationship and it was obvious he still sought my approval. He already had it.

"You did amazing," Brie leaned forward and muttered in my ear, a smile on her lips.

"Thanks," I said, squeezing her hand and resting my other hand on our intertwined ones. I was getting used to having her next to me that I didn't even think twice about having to pretend to be her girlfriend.

"I'd like to add one more thing, since we're all giving mini speeches now," my mum's voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see her stood up with the mic in hand. Oh, no... "Firstly, thank you all for coming this week! Isaac and I are truly grateful for your support."

More clapping whilst I froze, worried about what my mother would say.

"I'm lucky to be surrounded by people I love and who love me," she continued, before settling her gaze on me. "Including having my wonderful daughter, Y/N, here. She doesn't realise this but having her here means the world to me."

Everybody 'aww'd' whilst I tried to stop my face from looking confused. Was she serious?

"Y/N even brought her girlfriend, Brie, with her," she said, motioning to Brie beside me, making my cheeks heat up because of all the attention from the guests. "If you haven't met her already, introduce yourself. She's lovely and I couldn't have asked for anyone else to be with my daughter."

"Mum, you really don't need to–"

"Thank you for making her happy, Brie," my mum ignored me, looking to Brie.

Brie looked as red as I felt, smiling awkwardly as all eyes were on her. She cleared her throat, but didn't know what to say.

"Here's to love," my mum finished, raising her glass in the form of a toast. "Whether that be platonic or romantic. We should all appreciate it when we have it."

Everybody raised there glasses, so Brie and I kind of had to otherwise it would look weird.

"Cheers!"

I took a sip of my water before watching as my mum said her final thanks and left the mic.

"That was very... surprising," I said to my mum when she sat down. I let go of Brie's hand and leaned forward. "You didn't need to say all of that."

"Well, I meant every word," my mum said, smiling. "I'm proud of you. And I'm happy for you."

I pursed my lips, not knowing how to respond. See, she said things like that once in a blue moon, but I never knew whether to believe it or not because next thing she'd be doing is dragging me down for my career or life choices.

I looked to Brie, who was stuck into her food, completely oblivious and long forgotten to what just went down. When she felt me looking, she swallowed and raised an eyebrow.

"You good?" she asked adorably.

I forgot about my confusion and smiled. "I am now."

She seemed confused, but shrugged and went back to her meal, making me realise this whole thing was easier than I thought. Being Brie's girlfriend. It made me question why she single in the first place.

#brie larson imagine #brie larson x reader #brie larson

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bibliosexxual · 7 years

Text

I don’t even know. I was taking a walk today and this idea popped into my head. I swear I’m still writing the bookstore AU, too. Also, *pops confetti*, I hit 2k followers today! Who ARE all you guys? Anyway, this fluff/ridiculousness is for you. ~1.6k words, rated G. Sterek, of course.

now also on AO3

The whole thing starts with Stiles really, really craving a meatball sub from the place across the street.

"God, someone shut him up," Erica groans. They're all kind of at their breaking point by now; they've been camped out in this meeting room all day, brainstorming. “He’s been talking about the same goddamn sandwich for seven and a half minutes now, and it’s making me hungry.”

“If only our ad campaign were about sandwiches, Stilinski would have it in the bag and we could all go home,” Isaac sighs.

From across the table, Derek rises abruptly to his feet and storms out. (Or maybe it's just that Stiles always interprets everything Derek does as stormy. With those eyebrows, it's hard not to.)

Stiles assumes he's just gotten so fed up with them all that it's either storm out or kill someone, and he's just grateful Derek chose Door Number 1. It's a good day not to get killed by Derek Hale.

Only, fifteen minutes later he comes back in. With a paper bag from the deli.

As soon as he gets within grabbing distance, Stiles practically collapses across the table in his haste to reach for it. "Oh my god, is that what I think it is?"

Derek holds it up over his head. "Who says this is for you? Maybe all your talk inspired me to go get a meatball sub of my own."

"Oh, please. Like anyone with your abs eats meatball subs." Stiles leaps to his feet on his swivel chair—because screw safety, Derek will catch him if he starts to topple over—and snatches the bag out of Derek's grip. Derek doesn’t fight him for it very hard.

"Why don't I get a meatball sub?" Erica whines, thumping her head down on her notebook. “Doesn’t anyone love me?”

Derek shrugs and takes his seat again. "You didn't ask."

"You just like Stilinski better," she grumbles, and Derek just shrugs again.

Meanwhile, Stiles rips into the bag and takes a huge bite out of the gloriousness that is this sandwich. He can't help throwing in a few theatrical moans just to taunt Erica, and she suitably rewards him with a glare of death across the table.

"Mmm," Stiles says. "Derek, I love you so much, dude. Marry me."

Instead of the grumpy eyebrows he expects, Derek meets his eye, leans back smugly in his chair, and says, "Okay."

Stiles blinks at him, sandwich held halfway to his mouth. "Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay—"

"God," Erica interrupts, "as riveting as this conversation is, I'm going to get my own meatball sub. See you losers later."

Stiles mostly forgets about it. That is, until Derek is surprisingly awesome again, this time with coffee when they have an impromptu team meeting at 8:30 in the fucking morning two weeks later.

“Dude, it’s official, we’re having a June wedding,” Stiles groans between sips of hazelnut latte goodness.

The weirdest, most delightful thing is that Derek fucking goes along with it. “June? How cliché. I vote April or May.”

"Okay, sure,” Stiles smirks. “It's gonna be on April Fool’s Day or not at all.”

Derek clutches his chest. “Why, so everyone will think our love is a joke? I'm wounded, babe.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Isaac groans, stealing the to-go cup right out of Stiles’ hands and taking a huge sip, and Stiles is suitably distracted chasing him around the room and yelling barely-workplace-appropriate insults to tell Derek exactly why they need to have an April wedding.

He tells him later, though. He doesn’t forget. They compromise on mid-April.

It kinda becomes a thing, after that. Seriously. Stiles has a thing with Derek Hale. A gay chicken thing, except with weddings. And it’s awesome.

“It's gonna be a small, intimate gathering—”

“—of all our two thousand one hundred and eighty combined Facebook friends. Perfect. I was thinking the same thing, babe.”

“You’re paying to feed them all, then.”

“I’ll buy two cakes, since we probably aren’t going to agree on cake flavors at all.”

“Mine better be German chocolate with buttercream frosting.”

“Wait, seriously? That’s what I was going to pick. Okay, I’ll make my cake be coconut. Ooh, we could do a tropical theme! We’re gonna have flowers everywhere.”

“Only if you want me to sneeze all over you all day.”

“Derek, it’s a spring wedding, we’ve gotta have flowers. But we can get fake ones. And balloons! I fucking love balloons. Also, who says we’re gonna get married in the daytime? What if I want to get married at night?”

“An evening wedding, then. The reception can be at night.”

“Only if you let me hire the DJ.”

“Absolutely not. You would pick something totally tacky for our first dance, like ‘Cotton Eye Joe’ or the Chicken Dance.”

“While that would be hilarious, I was actually thinking ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love.’”

“That’s… actually not bad. Huh.”

“I do have good taste sometimes, boo.” Stiles even throws in a wink. “After all, I like you enough to marry you.”

It turns out Derek isn’t stormy and grumpy all the time, and he actually has a really nice smile. Especially when he’s blushing.

Erica, probably looking for an excuse to party and/or laugh at them, throws them a surprise fake-engagement party one Friday. The whole office shows up, probably lured in by the free food.

It actually ends up being fun. There’s chocolate cake and sparkling grape juice, and Stiles manages to get Derek to take a selfie with him while wearing a flower crown and not looking even a little bit murderous. Stiles immediately sets it as his new phone background just to see Derek pretend (badly) not to like it.

“Aw, is that your boyfriend?” a client asks one day, leaning over his shoulder, because Stiles never quite got around to changing out that photo on his phone.

And... Stiles shouldn’t. It’s probably crossing so many lines.

But he does.

He smiles widely and says, “We’re engaged, actually.”

The weird thing is, it's supposed to be a joke, but Stiles actually really likes the sound of it, and before he can second-guess it, he’s off inventing a whole story about their wild office romance and how it all started with an innocent meatball sub.

The client gets actual tears in her eyes by the end of it.

Stiles should be a professional actor. He’s obviously missed his life’s calling.

“Stiles,” Derek growls the next morning, “why did Wanda just call me to congratulate me on my engagement to you?”

“Uh, because we are engaged?” Stiles tries. “We’re having a spring wedding with two flavors of cake, or did you forget? By the way, you still need to buy me a ring.”

Deflection successful—Derek crosses his arms and demands, “Why am I the one buying the rings in this scenario? You’re the one who proposed to me.”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you have more money. I make too many impulse decisions regarding video games, and books, and concert tickets, and… yeah. I have no concept of budgeting.”

Derek sighs and shakes his head and totally forgets about the whole “Stiles told someone we were getting hitched” thing.

It just keeps going. Stiles gets in the habit of calling Derek “babe” or “boo” sarcastically, just to see Derek flip him off or roll his eyes or blush, and if anyone around the office says something like, “I dunno, ask your boyfriend,” or, “Tell your boyfriend good job on that presentation,” Stiles knows exactly who they’re talking about.

He’s pretty sure there are a few people around the office who actually think Derek is Stiles’ fiancé at this point, which amuses Stiles to no end.

One day he even catches Derek actually reading a wedding magazine on his break.

It’s not exactly weird when Derek drifts to a stop by Stiles’ desk at the end of the day one evening, grey messenger bag slung over his shoulder and hands in his pockets. They walk out to their cars a lot together, these days.

It’s also not that weird that Derek opens with, “Do you like sushi?”

“I thought we agreed we were just having cake at the reception,” Stiles says absently, chewing on a pen. He’s come up with ten different slogans in the past hour for this brand of dish soap, but they’re all puns, and the client probably isn’t going to go for it.

“Right, we are,” Derek says, and Stiles finally does look up, because Derek sounds nervous. Usually when they talk about the wedding there’s a lot more smirking and fake-outrage involved, and a lot less hand-twisting and lip-biting. “I was just thinking… wondering… if you liked sushi. There’s this new place a couple blocks from here, if, um.”

The pen falls out of Stiles’ mouth and clatters on the floor.

“Forget it,” Derek says, half-turning away.

That’s about as far as he gets before Stiles bursts out of his chair and tries to grab Derek’s arm but ends up with a fistful of his shirt instead. It gets Derek to stop and look at him again, though, so there. “Dude, are you asking me out right now?”

Derek says, “Let go of my shirt, Stiles,” which isn’t a no.

“Please tell me this isn’t a gay marriage chicken thing,” Stiles says, after he lets go of the shirt.

Derek swallows. “It isn’t a gay marriage chicken thing.”

“In that case,” Stiles says, “I love sushi.”

When they do get married for real a year later, they’re totally prepared.

#my fic #eternalsterek

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