A Little More Heart (3)
[Syverson x Reader]
Word Count: 5310 (Someone got carried away. Me. It was me.)
Summary: Sy answers your grandmother's summons for dinner.
Warnings: None
A/N: I'm back from the dead hellooooo! Grad school has truly been kicking my ass. I hope this is a fun surprise for everyone
Chapter 1 Chapter 2
Sy was standing three inches from an industrial box fan, sweating his ass off and questioning every last one of his life decisions when he heard his brother shouting for him from across the garage.
Easily as tall as Sy but two years younger and with a little less mass, Aaron was the second of three Syverson boys. Unlike Sy, he preferred his hair long and took great pride in caring for it, an abundant mass of dark curls that usually reached his shoulders. But at work, and during most of the summer, he kept it tied in a messy knot on the top of his head.
“Sy! Phone!”
Aaron moved fast across the floor, hand clamped around the bottom of a cordless landline to block the sound, two cheap blue popsicles still in their conjoined plastic tubes clenched between his teeth.
“By name?” Sy asked with a sigh as he approached.
Aaron shifted his grip on the phone to take the popsicles out of his mouth.
“Yep. It’s Ms. Bea. We expecting her in for something soon?”
“No, but I drove her granddaughter home last night, so - ”
Aaron’s eyes widened, and he frantically mashed at the button to put Ms. Bea on hold.
“You did what?” he asked, an obnoxious grin taking over his face.
“Settle down,” Sy mumbled, turning back towards the fan.
“My permanently single, grumpy-ass older brother drove a girl home last night. I’m not settling down.”
“Not a girl. She’s a woman.”
Aaron let out a wordless shout, jostling Sy’s shoulder and plopping down on the table beside the fan, grinning even wider than before.
“Oh, there’s no way in hell I’m letting this shit go now. A woman, you say.”
Sy rolled his eyes.
“You gonna give me one of those?” he asked, jerking his chin toward the slowly melting popsicles.
“Only as a bribe,” Aaron answered, ripping the perforated wrappers apart and holding one out tauntingly.
“For what?”
“Information, dumbass.”
Sy snatched the popsicle out of his hand, holding it behind his back when Aaron swatted at it.
“Saw her walking home in the dark. Stopped to drive her home. Simple as that.”
“Uh huh. And what earned her the distinction of ‘woman,’ I wonder.”
“She’s a grown-ass woman, that’s what,” Sy said bluntly, stepping out of Aaron’s reach to rip open the top of the popsicle wrapper.
“Noticed her ass, did ya?”
Sy shot him an unimpressed look, breaking the top inch of frozen blue sugar into his mouth with a harsh bite and holding his hand out.
“Just give me the fuckin phone.”
“Five questions first,” Aaron argued.
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Go.”
Aaron clapped in delight, taking a moment to think before launching into his limited interrogation.
“Did you smile?”
“Yep.”
“Did she make you laugh?”
“Yep.”
Aaron smiled again, but this time there was no mischief tied up in it. He looked uncharacteristically sincere.
“Did you get her number?”
“Yes. Last one.”
He squinted thoughtfully.
“Butterflies?”
“Fuck off, Aaron.”
“Oh, shit, that’s a yes!” But still he wasn’t teasing. His eyes were wide with surprise, his smile still genuine, not mocking.
“Phone.”
“You could barely grow facial hair the last time you had butterflies! The good butterflies, anyway. Shit, I have so many more questions now.”
“I gave you four, and you asked four. Now, gimme the phone.”
Aaron slapped the phone into Sy’s open palm but kept a hold of the bottom.
“We’re talking about this later.”
“Fine. Don’t tell mom.”
“Fine.” And there was that familiar smile again, the one that rarely ended well for anyone. The little shit.
Sy retreated to his office in the back of the garage, phone and popsicle in hand, before taking Ms. Bea off of hold. There was little to no chance she’d be able to hear him out on the floor.
“Hello.”
“Hi! Busy day today? Staying cool out there, I hope.”
“Doing my best, Ms. Bea. How are ya? That car of yours still treatin you right?”
“Oh, I’m alright. I haven’t driven in a few days, but as far as I know, it’s just fine.”
“If that changes, you let me know, okay?”
“I will!” There was a brief pause. “So listen! I hear you’re the one to thank for seeing my grandbaby home safe last night.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, I didn’t get this far in life leaving my debts unpaid. So you just come on down to the house when you’re through with work, and we’ll treat you to a nice dinner. How does that sound?”
“That’s a very generous offer, but you don’t owe me a thing, Ms. Bea. I didn’t know who she was when I stopped. I would’ve done the same for anyone walking that road at night.”
“Oh, I trust you would have, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some gratitude, now does it?”
Sy shook his head. If he didn’t make an appearance tonight, Ms. Bea would only show up tomorrow with the promised dinner wrapped up in foil and glass containers. He knew better than to expect this to go away on its own. And honestly, if it afforded him the possibility of seeing you again, he may not want it to.
“Well - ”
“Pardon me, dear. My phone is being stolen.”
Sy raised an eyebrow. There was a shuffling sound, a sigh, the closing of a door. Your voice came through, flustered and apologetic.
“I’m so sorry. I tried to talk her out of it, but the woman will not be denied.”
He smiled a little, imagining the look on your face.
“That’s alright. I had a feelin’ something like this would happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just what happens around here. You do someone a favor, they find a way to thank you for it.”
“Oh… I did say thank you though, didn’t I?”
“You did,” he said through another smile. “That’s not what I meant though.”
“So you’re saying it really should be me offering you dinner?” you asked. “Did I accidentally cause a blood feud by not knowing that?”
“Just a short one. Couple decades, tops.”
Your laugh sounded muffled, like you’d moved the phone down to your chest in an attempt to hide it.
“So do I have your permission to come see you and Ms. Bea this evening?”
“Depends. Will there be a torch and pitchfork involved?”
“Nah. Lost ‘em both in a poker game.”
“What a shame.”
“That mean I’m in the clear?”
“Yeah, I guess you’d better come around. Especially considering I was sent on a separate grocery run specifically for this dinner.”
“I’d ask you not to go to too much trouble, but I have a feeling it’s not really up to you.”
“Rude but accurate. There’s a whole raw chicken out there. I’m mildly terrified.”
Just as he was opening his mouth to answer, the office door creaked open, letting in a flood of sound and one very stressed woman.
“Sy!”
“Hold on one sec,” he said to you quickly before lowering the phone to his chest and raising his eyebrows in question.
“Someone up front wants to talk to you.”
Sy grimaced.
“Me specifically or a manager?”
“Manager.”
He gestured her out of the office then followed, eyes sweeping over the collection of cars and people.
“Aaron!”
“Yeah?” he yelled from under a car Sy had been working on earlier.
Sy crossed the garage impatiently, reaching down to drag him out from under the car by the ankle.
“Pretty face up front.”
Aaron groaned.
“I was the pretty face last time!” he complained. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Never been pretty a day in my life.”
“Fuck you. You know there’s no good comeback for that.”
“And I’m on the phone still. Get.”
“God damn it.” But he was already reaching up for Sy’s hand to haul him up to his feet.
“Have fun,” Sy called after him before lifting the phone back to his ear. “Sorry about that.”
“No, that’s okay! I should probably let you go. You seem busy.”
“You got me out of talking to a customer. Far as I’m concerned, we can stay on the phone all damn day.”
You laughed again, but this time you let him hear it.
“Does that mean you owe me a dinner now too?”
“We can talk about it,” Sy said with a smile, turning his back when one of his mechanics looked up curiously at his tone.
“Either way, I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am. Can I bring anything?”
“Better not. We’ll be stuck in the thank you cycle forever.”
That really didn’t sound like the worst thing, but he didn’t want to push you farther than he already was with this dinner tonight.
“Alright. I’ll uh… I’ll text you when I’m on my way then.”
“You mean to tell me you have my number?” you gasped. “How did that happen?”
“Some troublemaker gave it to me at the bar last night.”
“Interesting.”
“I thought so. Haven’t had time to use it yet, but I was planning on it.”
“Very interesting… Well, I’ll let you go now. See you at dinner.”
“Lookin forward to it.”
Sy tried to keep himself occupied all day, tried not to leave his mind free to dwell on you or try to predict how this dinner would go. Tried not to let himself be cornered by Aaron. Again.
He took off a little early, running home for a shower and a change into something nicer than a stained t-shirt before heading your way. Though his warning text had prompted you to share your grandmother’s address, Sy didn’t need it. The town was small enough, and he’d been down to the house before, a couple of times, to drive Ms. Bea to church when her car had been out of commission. But he’d never been inside before, or even past the gate.
By the time Sy’s shoes hit the driveway pavement, you were rounding the corner of the house in a pale green sundress and a clunky pair of slippers several sizes too big for your feet. Confident, as you had every right to be despite the footwear, but maybe a little flustered too.
“Well, hello,” he said with a small smile. He let himself look you over, let you see him look you over, but only for a second. Before he could pay you an appropriately polite compliment, you blurted out,
“I didn’t wear this for you. Just so you know.”
Sy’s eyebrows rose along with his hands. It had honestly never occurred to him that you might have worn it for him. But three times was enough to pick up the pattern. Walls up at first greeting. He had to earn your ease again.
“I know you didn’t,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes on yours. “Known Ms. Bea long enough that I’d call her an ambulance if I ever saw her in a pair of jeans.”
The corner of your mouth twitched up for a second, and you took a breath, rolled your shoulders.
“Yeah… Sorry, I just…”
“You’re not used to this,” Sy offered with an easy shrug, lowering his hands again.
“I’m not,” you agreed. “I don’t introduce people to my grandmother. Ever. And definitely not…” You glanced over your shoulder towards the windows, lowering your voice slightly. “Definitely not a man I was flirting with the night before.”
“Did you flirt with me? Can’t recall. Where was I when all that was going on?
You rolled your eyes, more tension leaving your shoulders.
“You know I did.”
“Now, let’s see…” Sy said, running a hand over his beard in a way that earned him a real smile this time. “I remember you making fun of my handwriting. Making fun of my pickup lines. Threatening me with a knife.”
“I didn’t threaten you with a knife,” you laughed.
Sy smiled at the sound. Now he was getting somewhere.
“No? So that was you flirtin’ then?”
“Must have been. Couldn’t be when I asked for your number.”
“Nah, I asked first.”
“No, you didn’t!”
“In my own way.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but the smile was still there. Like you knew what he was doing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed by it.
“Well, anyway,” Sy continued. “You’re not introducing me because I already know your grandma. And I’m well aware that I’m here on her invitation, not yours. So when I tell you that you look nice, it’s just an observation. No motive behind it beyond the fact that I think you ought to hear it.”
A couple of rapid blinks in surprise, a deep breath, a slow nod.
“Well… Thank you.”
Sy nodded back, and then you were turning in a pretty flutter of skirts, heading back towards the gate with a call for him to follow.
“Rules of the house. No cursing. No wandering unsupervised. And dinner guests don’t enter the kitchen for any reason ever,” you listed, closing the gate behind him.
“Got it.”
“One more thing. Nana takes hosting extremely seriously and therefore takes my hosting extremely seriously. A lot of pageantry went into this evening. But despite all of that, rest assured you are not being husband hunted.”
“Should’ve left the ring at home then, huh?”
“Don’t even let her hear that,” you warned with a grimace.
“Wouldn’t let me leave?”
“On the contrary. She’d light the house on fire just to get you out of it.”
“Well now you’re just hurtin my feelings.”
You rolled your eyes, the corner of your mouth tugging up in a reluctant smile.
“Don’t go feeling special. She’d do that to anyone she thought was proposing to me.”
You spun around again, as graceful as you could manage to be in oversized slippers on pebbledash, and Sy smiled at the extra, intentional swish in your skirt as you led him to the back door.
“Ready?” you asked, hand pausing on the handle.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the dogs,” you said breezily as you opened the screen door.
You were ambushed the second you walked through the door. There was a small black terrier, hopping around on two feet, desperate for your attention, and following behind at a slower pace was the largest boxer that Sy had ever seen.
“Hi, Bertie. Go make a friend,” you said softly, ruffling the small dog’s ears and shooing her gently away from you as you stepped to the side to intercept the dog that was staring down Sy with laser focus.
Bertie came hopping up to Sy, bright pink tongue lolling out from her underbite as she braced her front feet on his shin.
“Pleased to meet ya, little miss,” he said with a smile, crouching slowly to give her the attention she was seeking. She was a sweet one, falling all over herself to love on him.
A sharp whistle drew both Sy and Bertie’s attention, but you remained focused on the boxer, who had been leaning around you to take a peek at him.
“Brass,” you said firmly when the dog’s attention was back on you. “He’s okay.”
Brass let out an unconvinced grumble, going back to monitor Sy until you snapped your fingers.
“Hey. Look at me,” you said firmly. “He’s okay. Be nice. And I promise you can help me run him off if he misbehaves.”
You held out your hand, and Brass sat just long enough to offer you her large paw. You shook it gently, laughing at the baleful eyes she was still giving you.
“Can she perform a routine inspection?” you asked over your shoulder.
“Of course,” Sy said, sitting all the way down on the kitchen floor.
“Be nice,” you reminded Brass as you stepped aside to let her pass.
Sy kept still, leaving his hands open and palm up as Brass made a slow circuit around him, sniffing diligently. Up close, she was even more impressive, one of the most solid and imposing dogs he’d ever seen, not yet softening with the age that had a few greys growing around her mouth and eyes. Brass completed her loop quickly, stopping in front of him to stare at him just a little longer.
“Ma’am,” he greeted quietly, and he saw you smiling as you called her back over to you.
“Got yourself a real guard dog, don’t you?” Sy asked, watching as Brass bumped your hand with her nose before retreating to lay in the archway between the kitchen and living room.
“Oh yes. The General takes her job very seriously. And she’s not a fan of men. Try not to take it personally.”
“Ms. Bea named her General Brass?” he asked with a smile. “Or do you just want a dog to outrank me to prove a point?”
“How dare you,” you gasped. “I’ll have you know we named her General Brass Knuckles together.”
“Well, now I know you’re lyin,” he laughed.
“I would never - Nana!” you called as your grandmother finally entered the kitchen. “Tell Sy what Brass’s full name is.”
“General Brass Knuckles. Why?” she said, holding a hand out to Sy as she approached with a welcoming smile.
“Your granddaughter likes to tease me,” he said, squeezing her hand gently in greeting. “It’s good to see you, Ms. Bea.”
“She’ll do that. But I happen to think it’s a wonderful name. Suits her. She’s tough like me and like my granddaughter.” Ms. Bea squeezed his hand back. “Did you come hungry?”
“Yes, ma’am, I did.”
“Good! Go on and sit. Table’s already set.”
Set very nicely too. Cloth napkins and the fancy salt and pepper shakers. Matching serving dishes. Ms. Bea didn’t do anything by half measures.
Sy took the seat you gestured to, hesitating just long enough for you and your grandmother to sit before he did.
The way you’d spoken on the phone made it sound like this was an unfamiliar process to you, but it didn’t show. You began serving and passing food smoothly, your expression pleasant but neutral as Ms. Bea took the lead on conversation.
“How’s your family? We’re getting lots of sun this summer. Your mama’s garden must be a vision.”
“She sends me pictures every day,” Sy said with a polite smile. “And she’s been doing her research, trying to figure out what to put in the greenhouse now it’s finished.”
“I think that woman could plant just about anything and make it grow. She has a real gift.”
“That was the plan. As long as she gets some use out of it, I’ll be happy.”
“Wait, did you build a greenhouse?” you cut in curiously, pausing with a forkful of roasted potatoes halfway to your mouth.
“Not as hard as it sounds,” Sy said, chancing a wink when you squinted skeptically at him.
“I doubt that very much,” Ms. Bea said mildly, making you laugh. “And your grandmother? She still living out there in the country on her own?”
“Nana, this is out there in the country.”
“Alright, city girl,” she said, patting your cheek as your mouth dropped open in surprise.
“You were literally born in Brooklyn.”
“Were you really?” Sy asked, surprised. She sure didn’t sound like it, never had to his memory. Her accent was soft, but it was there, syrupy and southern like every other elderly woman in town.
“A lifetime ago,” Ms. Bea said with a secretive little smile. “Wouldn’t recognize it now.”
“With how many pictures I sent you last month?” you challenged with a fond smile. “You know, you could come with me next time I go.”
“You don’t need an old lady slowing you down.” The look she gave you put an end to that conversation, and you raised your hands slightly in surrender. “Now, you still owe me news of my old friend.”
Sy nodded as her attention turned back on him.
“She’s doing alright. Gonna head up that way tomorrow to fix her air conditioner.”
“Okay, seriously? You can build a greenhouse and fix an air conditioner?”
You almost sounded irritated, and Sy tried not to smile.
“Oh this man can fix just about everything,” Ms. Bea said.
“Wow,” you said mildly, smiling around a sip of water. “Take that compliment and run. I’ve never heard her speak so highly of a man in my life.”
“Oh, hush. Yes, you have,” your grandmother said in a no-nonsense tone.
Hush, Sy mouthed at you with mock sternness when you glanced his way. Your eyes narrowed playfully, and you kicked at his shin under the table.
“How are those brothers of yours?”
“Oooo brothers. Now that’s interesting.” And that grin you were wearing was specifically designed to get a rise out of him. Sy eyed you, watching that smile widen just a touch before he turned his attention back to Ms. Bea.
“They’re doing good. Jimmy’s teaching summer school. Aaron’s just the same as always. But he has been eating instant potatoes for lunch every day if you want to have a word with him about it.”
Ms. Bea gave him a knowing look, her pursed lips relaxed into a smile that verged on mischievous.
“I certainly will. That boy get a haircut yet?”
“No, ma’am. Past his shoulders now when it’s not tied up.”
You hummed with interest.
“Did he steal all of yours?”
Ms. Bea let out half a surprised laugh before she pressed a napkin to her lips demurely, regaining her composure. You were staring at him, eyes bright with amusement and challenge as he shook his head slowly at you, huffing a laugh through his nose.
“Now don’t go giving him too hard a time,” Ms. Bea said before Sy could respond. “He did you a good turn last night.”
“He did,” you agreed.
“You should have seen it before he started cutting it all off. Just as soft and curly as anything.”
“Like a poodle,” you supplied, looking him over with a poorly-suppressed grin, as if trying to imagine it.
“You wicked thing,” Ms. Bea said with a little grin, nudging you with her elbow. “He looked just exactly like a porcelain doll when he was younger.”
Sy took a breath, wishing Ms. Bea would kindly stop digging his grave as your smile grew.
“Oh, really? Do you have any pictures?”
“I’m sure I do. Somewhere.” She squinted thoughtfully towards the living room. “In the old Christmas cards if nowhere else.”
“You’re really not giving up on that, are you?” he sighed.
“Absolutely not,” you answered. “I might have before, but a porcelain doll? Come on, now. I’m not walking away from that.”
Ms. Bea shot you a curious look but didn’t comment, guiding the three of you to a different subject with the confident ease of someone who had been navigating the passive aggressive waters of southern social life for decades.
Things carried on that way for quite a while: Ms. Bea asking polite questions and you finding ways to subtly or not-so-subtly tease him.
The plates had long been clear when Brass interrupted the conversation with a single, sharp warning bark, rising from her position in the doorway to bully her way behind the blinds on the nearest kitchen window. Sy heard it a few seconds later: a car making the turn onto the long driveway.
“Were you expecting anyone else?” you asked, glancing to your grandmother with a frown.
When Ms. Bea shook her head, Sy leaned back in his chair, moving his head to the side until he caught a glimpse through the window over the sink.
“Little blue Toyota, looks like.”
Ms. Bea rose quickly, her lips pursed to the point of disappearing.
“Darling, would you take our guest out to the pool house so he can pick a drink for the road? I’d like a private word with your cousin.”
Your eyebrows raised, but you nodded wordlessly, grabbing at Sy’s arm as you stood from the table. He followed your lead, letting you tug him along out the back door.
“Poor Kat,” you said once the door closed behind you.
“Well, she did leave you stranded,” Sy said quietly.
“Turned out okay,” you said with a shrug, dropping your hand back to your side when you caught his eyes.
Sy held your gaze with an easy nod, not pulling back or looking away until you took a flustered breath and tilted your head to the side.
“Let’s get out of here before the fireworks start, huh?”
You hopped off the porch steps, following the end of the driveway to a small carport that backed into an even smaller outbuilding. A later addition, it looked like. Several decades newer than the house.
“You gonna tell me why we’re calling this a pool house? Not seeing a pool anywhere.”
“Patience,” you huffed, skirting around the two cars that were squeezed together beneath the carport.
You paused at the door, bouncing lightly on your feet as if to gather some nerve.
“Alright, full disclosure, sometimes a lizard or a snake gets in here. And if I open this door and see a snake, I will either fully abandon you to deal with that shit by yourself or climb you like a tree.”
And there were all sorts of things he could say to that, but he chose to keep his damn mouth shut and nod instead.
You led the way into the tiny building, wading through air that somehow felt even hotter than it had outside. After a second of endearingly impatient flailing, you caught hold of the thin chain hanging from the light on the ceiling, turning it on with a swift tug.
It didn’t do much for the space, which remained dim and dusty. There was very little room to walk, a thin avenue of clear concrete circled a large tarped object in the center of the room. Boxes, folding chairs and tables, and a long abandoned workbench lined the back wall. To the left, nearly overlapping the door, was a refrigerator and large separate freezer.
“Pool table,” you said, lifting up a corner of the tarp to reveal a glossy wood corner.
Sy smiled a little.
“Pool house. Cute.”
“We’re unbearably adorable. We can’t help it,” you said breezily, turning away from him to open the refrigerator door. “Adorable and overstocked with beverages.”
Every Coke product known to man filled the fridge, accented by bottles of peach tea and cans of lemonade. And…
“Are those Capri-Suns?”
Your eyes widened when you followed his gaze to the three shiny pouches tucked away on the bottom shelf.
“Huh…” you said softly, turning one over in your hand to check the expiration date. “Why does she even have these?”
“Gotta have all the bases covered, I guess.”
You hummed, turning your head to look up at him. For half a second, you seemed a little startled at his proximity, blinking rapidly and taking a sharp breath. Sy was doing his best not to crowd you, but there honestly wasn’t enough room for personal space. When he tried to back off a little, all he really managed to do was hip check the pool table and throw off his balance, shrinking the distance even more when you grabbed a handful of his shirt in a quick attempt to steady him.
There was a pause, neither of you daring to take a breath. The hot, still air of the tiny outbuilding seemed to draw in a little closer, barely cut by the draft from the open refrigerator.
“Um…” You blinked hard, pulling your hand away like he’d burned you, shuffling to the side to earn a few precious inches of space.
“Sorry,” he said softly, belatedly.
“S’okay…” You shook your head a little. “Uh, do you want…?”
You lifted the little juice pouch still in your hand.
“Sure.”
It took further rearranging to get the refrigerator door closed again, and Sy tried not to feel too bad at the speed with which you rushed from the building.
The open air seemed to soothe you a little, the sight of you rolling your shoulders with a deep breath greeting Sy when his eyes readjusted to the bright sunlight.
That playful confidence crept back over you, a little more tentative but still a sight to see.
“Are you qualified to open one of these?” you asked, tossing Sy his juice. “Don’t know how much experience you’ve got.”
“Plenty,” Sy said, arching a brow at the smirk that set across your face. “Said what I said.”
You laughed, reaching to pull the plastic-wrapped straw from the back of the pouch.
“You sure? You can’t brute force it, ya know. You’ll just stab through both sides and end up with a mess. It takes finesse.”
“I can do finesse.”
He took the straw back from you, making smooth and efficient work of pushing it through the clear plastic circle at the top of the pouch. He took a smug sip, earning a grin from you as you raised your hands in surrender.
“Fine, fine. You have the dexterity of an eight year old. I’m sorry for doubting you.”
“No winning with you, is there?”
“No, sir!” you said proudly, glancing quickly towards the back door at the sound of raised voices, your smile fading slightly. “Guess I should escort you to safety.”
You plucked lightly at his sleeve as you headed back towards the gate where his truck was parked. He followed, falling into step beside you.
“Sure you don’t need backup?”
Through a gap in the curtain, Sy caught sight of Kat, her face pinched, arms crossed.
“Oh, I’m not going back in there,” you scoffed. “I’ll walk a lap of the neighborhood or something. Go sit by the pond for a bit, maybe.”
Sy hesitated, his steps slowing.
“I could - We could go somewhere, if you want. Give them time to cool off a little.”
You glanced at him curiously.
“Go where?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Wherever. Get a drink or something.”
“Two nights in a row? The town would implode.”
He smiled a little, leaned against the door of his truck.
“That’s not a no.”
You shot him a look, mouth twisted up in something that looked very promisingly like indecision.
“Should be a no. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
“What’s the wrong idea?”
You let out a slow breath.
“You know I’m only going to be around a couple weeks.”
He hummed, standing up straight again.
“Doesn’t have to be a drink. Could just go for a drive. No getting any wrong ideas about a drive.”
“No wrong ideas about sunset on a backroad?”
Sy cleared his throat.
“No ma’am. We’re in for a platonic sunset tonight. It told me so.”
You laughed, but there was something a little sad in it.
“Drink your juice and get outta here before I do something stupid, please.”
Sy knew better than to push, but damn if he didn’t like the sound of that.
“Yeah, alright.”
You made no attempt to mask the once-over you gave him as he got into the driver’s seat. He risked holding out his hand one last time, rolling down the window before closing the door.
“Mind if I use that number you gave me? Sometime.”
“I think you’d better.”
He smiled at that, let it be a full one, earned himself a smile back.
“I’ll do that then. Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome.”
Sy lingered a moment longer, taking in the sight of you barefoot on the driveway, a late summer breeze making the hem of your dress dance lazily around your legs.
You shook your head at him, shooing him away with a smile.
As he pulled out of the driveway, he could see you still standing at the gate, watching him until the truck tail lights were out of sight.
*****
A/N: Thank you for reading! I've really missed this story. Would love, love, LOVE to hear what you think.
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[Dean Winchester] - Bruises
♫ - Lucky Stars - Lucy Spraggan
This was a request for @jayblove1994, I hope you enjoy! <3
Loving a demon hunter wasn't easy. Loving a hunter was not what you expected in your future. But, you most certainly were not complaining.
Dean Winchester was a hell of a man. Often times, he was straightforward, honest and headstrong. Whether that was a good thing all the time or not, you didn't know. What you did know, was that he could also be soft, kind and caring. The Dean you saw behind closed doors was not the hunter, it was just a boy. Over the time you had gotten to know him, Dean had opened up more than you thought he ever would, and you learned things that made you understand the way he was every day.
Your relationship had, for the most part, been quite normal. Sure, you'd been kidnapped by Crowley once or twice, but that's what you get, dating a Winchester. But, when the King of Hell wasn't being a menace in your local area, you found dating Dean was one of the most calm and natural things you had ever done. Loving him was easy, and being loved by him was the best feeling.
Dean's love language has always been touch. Physicality was always the way he showed love; hugs, kisses, falling asleep together. You name it, Dean did it. You were never short of love from him. In turn, you always helped him after a hunt, usually when a demon had given him a good fight. Tonight was another one of those nights.
It was about 9pm, and you were just wandering around your apartment, tidying up a few things before planning to settle on the couch with a good book and some hot chocolate. There was a knock, the same knock that only one man did to let you know it was definitely him. Standing, you opened the door, and there was your boyfriend, bloody and bruised.
"Dean!" you exclaimed, partly shocked at the state of his face and partly happiness. "Come in, babe, what on Earth happened to you?"
He shook his head and smirked a little, eyes staring into yours.
"The same thing that always happens, sweetheart."
That gruff, sarcastic voice always tried to make the best of every situation. You chuckled, and brought him to the couch. Fetching a glass of water for him, and some washcloths, you began to clean him up whilst you sat.
Dean still, after all this time, wasn't used to someone helping him in times like this. Not that anyone hadn't ever offered, Sam and Cas most certainly had, but he never took the help. With you, Dean knew he didn't have a choice. You were always there to fix him, in more ways than just this. He wasn't against it, and he didn't think he deserved it most of the time, but it never stopped you and your love was something Dean wouldn't give it up for the world.
As you sat, your legs touched and Dean's hand sat on your thigh, thumb stroking up and down against the fabric of your pyjamas. Every now and then, you'd catch each other's eyes and smile. From previous experience, you knew Dean wasn't too talkative in these moments, and you respected that. Each time you cleaned up a section of his face, you gave him a quick kiss on the area. Slowly but surely, you had patched him up everywhere.
"There we go,back to normal," you said, then shrugged. "Well, you know, as normal as a hunter can get, at least."
"So, not at all then, hey?" He chuckled, then held his ribs.
"Everything alright, Dean?" you asked,and he lifted his shirt to reveal his bruised rib cage. Your eyes widened. "Dean!"
"Well I figured you can't exactly fix this with water, can you?"
You just shook your head. "You're way too stubborn, Winchester."
"Ahh, you love me anyway, Y/N."
"I do, now get your kit off and change into something less blood-stained."
He stripped down and fetched a pair of lounge pants from his drawer. Dean came round to your apartment so often you bought a specific set of drawers just for him, growing tired of having no space for your own clothes. You weren't complaining though, there was always something of his for you to wear.
"Better?"
You spun round to see your boyfriend in just his pants, without his shirt on. You cocked your eyebrow, and smirked.
"Not that I'm complaining, believe me I'm not, but where's your shirt?"
"Nuh-uh," he started, taking your hand and leading you over to the sofa again. "You never mentioned a shirt, just something 'less bloody', and I believe I have fulfilled that request."
"I hate when you're right, Dean."
Dean winked at you and pulled you over to him, so you were straddling his lap. He looked at you, eyes sparkling and smile present. When he smiled like that, his whole faced lit up. But, you knew it was mostly put on, as these situations drained him, and though eh wouldn't admit to it, they scared him. The atmosphere got a bit more serious now you two were seated again.
Dean's hands rested on your hips, and one travelled up to the back of your head, running through your hair as he went. Pulling you forward, you rested your forehead against his. His hand came forward, tracing your jaw and running his thumb along your lips before he spoke.
"Thank you."
Dean's voice was a low whisper, his eyes closed as he just being in the moment. He got very emotional after hunts, and you guessed it was the comedown of adrenaline, or the thankfulness he felt that he could come home. Sometimes, it wasn't too bad, and the risk was low, but he got especially in his feelings after a risky run. Such as now, where he held you and you stroked his hair. Dean listened to your heartbeat, calming himself fully by counting the beats.
"I've always got you," you whispered into his ear, kissing the top of his head. "You don't have to thank me. I'll always be here. No matter what, or however bad it feels, I'm here to fix it. Never forget that. I love you, baby."
A hoarse reply came from the man in your arms.
"I love you too."
Dean looked up, and you could think he was close to crying. He looked tired, very tired. You smiled down, and brought your lips to his. The kiss started soft, your hands on either side of his face and his hands on your waist. He pulled you both down, so you were lying side by side on the sofa, facing each other. The kiss broke, and Dean was looking down at you, fingers tracing up and down your side lazily.
"I got very lucky to have you, sweetheart. I'm sorry things get dangerous, but know that I'll protect you, okay? I'll fight hell twice over for you."
You cuddled into him, and his strong arms enveloped you in a safe warmth you only got with him. You had forgotten all about your hot chocolate and book, but that could wait. For now, you were cherishing the soft moments with your boyfriend, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
Thanks for reading! <3
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Comfort
Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x gn!reader
Fic type: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, caregiver reader
Warnings: brief mentions of gun violence, ptsd
Summary: Adam has been suffering from panic attacks since news of another jigsaw attack hits the news, and needs comforting.
A/n: hello! I've been looking forward to writing more about Adam's soft side, so i hope you enjoy! Remember requests are open, and I'd love to hear feedback! Knowing that people enjoy the things I write really helps motivate me to write more <3
Adam had been having a real rough time as of late. Usually, he was quite good at not letting his past trauma get to him, and when the news broke that the jigsaw killer, John kramer, and his right hand man, Amanda Young, were found dead, he really felt as though his nightmare was over. But news had recently broke that another one of John's sick "games" had taken place. Five people kidnapped and put through torment, only two of whom had lived. Maybe it was another "apprentice" as the police had called them. Or perhaps a copycat? It wasn't so far fetched, jigsaw had accumulated a somewhat cult-like fan base. Most of them were just people with morbid curiosity, they followed the case a little too obsessively but swore they disapproved of John's actions, although a few nutcases had popped up all over the city, thinking of John as some kind of pied piper, cleaning the city of the people they deemed unworthy. One of whom was Adam's ex best friend, Scott Tibbs. In the time that Adam was missing, Scott had completely lost it. He never was the most stable person but this was crazy, he was jealous of the horrific ordeal that Adam went through, he saw it as some kind of rebirth, he thought John was a genius. It made Adam feel sick to know that there were others out there who shared the same views as the evil fuck who ruined his life.
On a good day, Adam could mask his fear with anger, but today was not one of those days.
"Adam, do you want a cup of tea before bed?" You called from the kitchen into the bathroom where Adam was just stepping out of the shower.
"Yeah, that'd be great babe" he called back.
So far, it was a normal night (or about as normal as a night can be when talks of your boyfriend's attempted killer making a return are all over the news). Normalcy was something both of you had strived to keep, it was important not to let Adam slip back into his reclusive ways. He was doing good, but you knew any small thing could set him back, so you kept a close and caring eye on him.
"Here," you smiled, entering the bedroom and handing a mug to a rather tired looking Adam. He looked adorable in his loose tshirt and boxers, his thick black hair still damp and ruffled from a futile attempt at towel drying it.
Adam kissed your cheek and held your waist- a little tighter than he usually did. He was scared. He did a good job of hiding it, but the signs were there, that fear was bubbling up just below the surface.
"You wanna watch a movie tonight? I like the idea of getting all cosy with a movie in bed" you suggested, climbing under the duvet and patting the spot beside you. You wanted to distract Adam from his own thoughts as much as you could, and a movie was a good place to start.
"Sounds good" he smiled softly, knowing your intentions. He gently placed his tea down on the bedside table, and clambered into bed, snuggling up to you.
After flipping through the channels for a little while, the two of you found a channel that played exclusively dogshit, straight to TV romcoms.
Finding, watching and poking fun at the worst movies possible was a particular favourite past time for the two of you, so when your disparaging comment on how cheesy the protagonist was, was only met with a half hearted chuckle, you knew Adam's mind was elsewhere.
That fear was growing, you could practically feel it radiating out of Adam's chest, a palpable sense of anxiety emitted from the poor man, all while he tried his best to seem calm.
That was when a from somewhere outside, a car backfired. That was it for Adam, before you could even process where the two loud bangs had come from, he had burst into floods of tears. He was blubbering, holding his hands over his ears and hunched forward, as though trying to make himself as small as possible. His cries were the most heartwrenching sound you'd ever heard, they weren't that of a grown man, no, in this moment Adam was no more than a frightened little boy. He was so small and helpless, so afraid and so tiny. He hugged his legs to his chest tightly as his eyes rapidly scanned the room before fixating on the bedroom door.
Of course, ever since the bathroom Adam had associated loud bangs with gunshots, with a madman running into the room with the intent to kill. In his head he was back there.
"Sweetheart, deep breaths" you whispered, ever so gently placing a hand on his back and rubbing in slow circular motions.
Adam gasped for air between sobs, gripping onto the duvet so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"Shhhhh, that's it honey, just catch your breath"
You spoke softly, not wanting anything else to alarm him.
Adam's breathing had slowed, but the tears still poured down his face and the wails still rung out from his mouth. You pulled him into an embrace and he collapsed into you. You took this opportunity to carefully guide him into a laying down position, so that he was cuddled up to your chest while you wrapped your arms around him. Your poor, sweet baby, you'd do anything to protect him.
"I know honeybun, it's scary isn't it? But you're so brave, who's my brave boy, hm?" You cooed, stroking his hair and letting some much needed praise rain down on him.
"I am.." Adam sniffled, taking in deep gulps of air and feeling immensely safer now that he was starting to remember where he really was.
"That's right, baby! You're the bravest boy in the world" you smiled, hoping your warm and nurturing tone would bring him some sort of comfort.
"Do you want your kitty?" You asked.
'Kitty' was Adam's childhood stuffed animal, he didn't like to sleep with it every night, but you kept it in a box right under the bed in case he ever needed it.
In that box was an array of things that helped Adam with his ptsd, panic attacks and insomnia. Noise cancelling headphones, eye masks, stress balls, snacks, even activity books. But none of them ever held a candle to kitty, a raggedy black toy cat with a big bald patch on it's head from years of nuzzling from Adam.
You felt around under the bed for a few seconds until you found the box and pulled it out, taking off the lid and handing Adam his kitty. Adam took it and held it to his face, burying his nose in it's head and closing his eyes.
"Do you want anything else, sweetpea?" You asked, offering the box to him.
Adam didn't speak, he never did when he got like this, instead he pointed at a packet of animal crackers.
You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, he looked adorable, and the fact that he was hungry was a good sign.
"Alright my love, crackers it is" you said, opening up the packet for him and handing them over.
Adam took one out and began to nibble on it slowly, he liked to chew things when he was anxious. Sometimes it was his shirt sleeves or fingernails that got the brunt of it, so you were trying to help him find alternatives.
You turned to look at Adam, he had stopped crying but his eyes were still wet, and his face tear stained. He sniffled quietly, his eyes vacant and his hands trembling as they clutched onto his teddy. You could tell exactly how he was feeling, still frightened but mostly embarrassed. He hated feeling so pathetic, being reduced to a snivelling wreck, trembling like a lost puppy. Reassurance was imperative to make sure Adam felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable, you didn't want him to start bottling things up again out of shame. You wiped his eyes dry with your thumb, and cradled his chin so that he was looking at you.
"It's alright, baby. You're safe," you whispered.
Adam snuggled up to you, burying his face in your chest and breathing you in, slowly and calmly until he had stopped shaking. He was starting to feel a lot better.
"Y/n?" He said, so softly that you almost didn't hear him.
"What is it, my sweet?"
"Can we put alien on?"
Alien was Adam's favourite film of all time, not your conventional comfort film, but Adam associated it with fond memories of being a young boy. One of his friends had stolen it from their older brother, and Adam and all his boyhood chums had watched it together at a sleepover. To this day, whenever Adam watched that film he could practically smell microwaveable popcorn, taste cans of flat cola, hear raucous laughter and feel the safety of being surrounded by people that loved him. He didn't have the best upbringing, and his family weren't so kind to him, so this particular night with all his buddies in a house far from his own was one of the few comforting memories from his youth.
You'd put the dvd in the player and turned on a few lamps, just so the extra light kept Adam aware of his surroundings, and climbed back under the covers where Adam, having finished his crackers and tea, shuffled over to you and rested his head on your chest.
He clung onto his kitty, and stared at the TV, his eyelids very slowly becoming droopy.
"Y/n?" He mumbled, almost out cold
"Yes, hun?"
"Kitty says thank you for looking after us"
You could hear the smile in his voice
"Well, tell kitty I'm always happy to look after both of you" You chuckled, kissing the top of Adam's head and giving him a squeeze.
He hummed sleepily and began to drift off, dreaming of cats, aliens, and best of all, you.
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