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thatbookishasiangirl · 4 years

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Are We Still Dreaming?

“Elliot, wake up.”

I am drifting somewhere in between the vast, ever-expanding space of the waking world and deep, unrelenting slumber when I feel your lips press against the back of my neck, drawing me gently out of my sleep. My eyelashes flutter lightly as a smile pulls across my lips, my nose wrinkles and I draw the sheets over my eyes, murmuring under my breath that I need ten more minutes. Just ten more minutes. Every tender, careful touch igniting sparks of little fires across my skin. Another kiss on my shoulder and then the sharp, deliciously painful jolt that comes from a tiny nip of the teeth. I roll over and attempt to glare at you to convey my false annoyance, but I am aware that my expression is one of unabashed adoration.

“What do you want, Connor?” I ask.

You lean forward and press your lips to the tip of my nose. “It’s time to get to work,” you whisper.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” I grumble, shoving half-heartedly at your chest. “Don’t you remember? The editor doesn’t need those revisions until next month. It’s May 2nd. I’ve got plenty of time.”

“I remember that you put things off, and you put things off, and you continue to put them off until there’s one weekend left and you’re up all night panicking because you haven’t even started yet.” I roll my eyes. “And you put yourself through all this unnecessary stress when it could have been avoided by simply getting a head start.”

I flop onto my back. The piss colored wallpaper above is peeling and flaking and the old ceiling fan rocks back and forth as it spins rapidly, threatening to come down on us both at any moment. Crushing us. Well, I think, to hell with it, if it happens it happens. I throw my arm over my eyes, knowing that you are right. Not wanting to admit it, this project is taking its toll. Everything happened so fast. On New Year’s Eve, completely and utterly shit faced, I stumbled down the street to the nearest mail bin and had shoved the thick manila envelope containing my thirty page novel proposal, addressed to my editor Lucy, and the very next morning I got an email from her declaring that this would be my most successful creation yet.

“You always do this,” you say, not unkindly.

“I know,” I grouse.

You wrap your fingers around my wrist and move it away from my face. You smile and brush a piece of stray hair off of my forehead. “You haven’t written something new since 2015. It’s been five years. The people are dying for your next bestseller.”

I inhale sharply and reach for your hand, interlocking our fingers. “Will you make me something to eat?” I ask.

“Avocado toast with crispy bacon?” you muse.

“You know me so well,” I say, bringing your hand to my lips and kissing each knuckle in turn, before I lift my other hand and cup the side of your face bringing your mouth to mine. “Do you really want me to get to work?” I murmur against your lips.

You laugh, your deep, beautiful laugh, reverberating through my whole body, sending chills down my spine. I could listen to your laugh forever. “Come off it,” you say, pushing my chest.

“Connor…” I whine.

“Elliot,” you say teasingly.

You push back the sheets, exposing us both to the cold, and you swing your legs over the side of the bed. There is a soft thud as your feet land on the floor and you stand there in nothing but your questionably tight black underwear and you stretch your arms over your head. You look over your shoulder and grin, showing each and every one of your frustratingly perfect teeth.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing,” you reply, shrugging with just one shoulder as you grab one of our pillows and throw it at me. I catch it in both hands. “It’s supposed to be nice out today,” you say. “Maybe you can work outside.”

I’m rolling my eyes again but by then your back is to me and you are walking out the door. For a moment I just lay there on my back, listening to the clatter of pots and pans as you move through our kitchen. I know you are right. With a deep sigh, I get out of bed. I walk to our shared dresser. It’s small, coming up to the chest of my tall body and there are visible signs of wear, like the peeling wood on the legs, but it was cheap and we didn’t have that much clothing anyway. I shrug on a dark gray hoodie with my alma mater’s logo across the chest and a pair of old baggy sweatpants.

You wolf whistle as I emerge from our bedroom. “Looking hot, babe,” you say.

I flip you off. “Do you think Stephen King writes in a suit and tie?” I question. “I would bet you real, actual physical money that he doesn’t.”

You turn towards me, smirking. “Let’s call him up and ask,” you say.

“Shut up,” I retort. “Don’t be a smartass”

“What was that expression again? Dress for the job you want?”

I raise an eyebrow. “The job I want is to be able to work from home dressed in whatever the fuck I want because no one is going to see me.”

“Oh, but I see you. Don’t you want to impress me?” When I glare at you in response, you chuckle and raise both of your hands. Your head quirks to the side in the subconscious, curious way it does from time to time. “In all seriousness, and for the record because I know you keep a record in the back of that brilliant head of yours, you would look good in anything. Hell, you could pull off a potato sack.”

“Shut up,” I say again.

“What, it’s true? Am I supposed to lie to you?” You place a hand over your heart with mock offense. “Because lying goes directly against my code of honor and if you’re asking me to lie, then that might be a deal breaker.”

“You’re full of shit,” I laugh.

And there’s your smile again. “Get to work!” you exclaim.

I press the side of my hand to my forehead and salute. “Yes, sir,” I say.

My laptop is resting where I left it last night, open and sitting on the couch in a sea of blankets, empty soda cans, and snack wrappers. It was the result of not hours of hard work, but procrastination fueled Netflix binging; a result of you not being there to force me to be productive. You had been out catching up with some old friends from college. I grab my laptop and my cell phone and walk out onto our balcony. We are lucky enough that our apartment has one. It’s small and there is barely enough room for the pair of fold out chairs we have, but it’s better than nothing. And hey, you’re right, it is nice out. The sky is blue and the air warm.

I open my laptop and go to the document. I stare at the screen. The text cursor blinks mockingly at me through the glass. All that vast white page. The blank space. The blank space that I need to fill. I take a deep breath and press my fingers onto the keyboard. I’ve been writing, or attempting to write, for about twenty minutes when you step out onto the balcony.

“Here you go,” you say, handing me my plate.

“Thanks.” I put the plate down at my feet and take your face in my hands, kissing you with intention.

You kiss back, but for not nearly long enough. “Work,” you say. “Eat and work. I know how you can get on an empty stomach. You can take a break in an hour.”

I nod in agreement. “Thanks again,” I say.

You walk back inside, leaving the sliding door open. I pick up a piece of bacon. It’s burnt. You burnt the bacon. It’s never happened before.

I take a bite and it crunches and crumbles in my mouth. Several arms lengths away there is another apartment complex and another shoebox balcony. Through the sliding glass door I see the elderly couple who have been living in Boston long before we moved in across the way. The woman is standing at the sink, hand washing dishes. Her motions are slow and careful. She stares determinedly down at her hands, as if the dishes and the water and suds are her lifeline. If she were to stop washing those dishes then everything would unspool; her fragile bones would collapse and her skin would cave in on itself. I watch as she lifts a vibrant green plate in her hands, moving it around clockwise as she scrubbs every inch of the round surface.

The old woman’s hands shake and her long silver hair falls over her face as she bends her head further over the sink. Her shoulders rise and fall and I realize that she is crying. The plate slips from her hands, splashing in the water filled sink, sending suds everywhere. Her husband appears soon after, hugging her from behind and rubbing his hands up and down her arms, whispering something into her ear. She spins around and collapses into his arms. I can hear her sobs through the glass and it’s entirely too much.

I place my computer on the floor and stand, stepping back into the apartment. You are rummaging through the cabinets and when I come back inside, you stand straight with our largest mixing bowl in your hands.

“How would you feel if I made some chocolate chip cookies?” you ask.

“Breakfast and now cookies,” I say. “You’re on a roll.”

You smile and shrug. “I watched some Chopped on my phone after you fell asleep. I’ve got the cooking bug.”

I can’t help myself. “I’m surprised you could stay awake after last night. I was beat,” I say, smirking and crossing my arms over my chest. The porcelain pale skin of your cheeks turns bright red and I know my words have had the intended effect. “I would love cookies.”

You duck your head for a moment, staring into the bowl, and god, you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed. “Great,” you say. “And you can have as many as you want.” You raise your head again. “But only after you’ve finished at least one chapter.”

I groan. “But the cookies will be cold by the time I’m done.”

“And they’ll still be perfectly edible.”

“Oh but, Connor,” I say and I walk closer to you until we are only a foot apart. “Don’t you know that the prime eating time for a chocolate chip cookie is exactly two minutes after they come out of the oven?”

You snort, but you are still smiling at me and I can tell that you want to throw that bowl aside and kiss me. More than kiss me. But you’re a good boyfriend. You won’t distract me no matter how much your fingers twitch with the overwhelming desire to reach out and touch me. I know that this is how you are feeling because I am feeling the exact same way. Our emotions, our desires, our every whims have always fallen perfectly in sync. I swear sometimes, that I can read your mind. I anticipate your needs and you anticipate mine. Your breath stutters when you are about to sneeze and I pass you a tissue just in time. I wake up from a long nap with an empty stomach and you’ve already prepared soup for me. In the middle of the night, when you are restless, you won’t say it, but I know you want me to hold you tighter. To tangle our limbs into a knot that cannot be easily pulled apart. I know your body better than my own. Where to touch you and how, to strike stars across your vision. You don’t need to speak for me to be sure of what you want.

I take the bowl from you and place it on the kitchen island. It is barely big enough to be called a kitchen island, though, but we make the best of it. When we eat at it, we have to stand so close that our shoulders brush which really isn’t something I am complaining about, but it certainly makes things like baking quite difficult. I cup your face in my hands and tilt my head up to kiss you. You’re not that much taller than me, but you’re tall enough that I have to make an effort; I am forced to stand on my toes and strain to reach your mouth.

“You’re procrastinating again, sweetheart,” you mumble against my lips, but your hands are curled in the front of my sweatshirt.

“You’re not complaining,” I point out.

I watch as you bite down on your bottom lip, teasing the pretty pink flesh between your teeth and I feel my own face grow hot. The air is still between us.

“You promised me,” you say, sounding quieter and smaller than you ever have before. I don’t like it. “We would treat today like a completely normal day.”

You have never been much of a crier. You hate crying. It makes you feel weak. Even at times when it would be perfectly reasonable to cry, you still never cry. Not even when you came out to your beloved parents, hand reaching for mine and clutching it nervously, and they both looked at you like you were lower than the scum in the New York City subway. But right now your eyes are watering and I can tell that you are trying to fight it and becoming frustrated that you are losing.

“This is normal,” I say softly.

You shake your head. “No. You’re never this…” you hesitate and I reach down and take your hand in mind, squeezing it reassuringly. “Loving.” And I can tell you regret it the moment you say it because your eyes go wide. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you love me. I do. It’s just- I’m not complaining, I-”

“No, I get it,” I say. “And I’m sorry about that. I guess I was thinking maybe I could make it up to you.” I take a deep breath. “Please don’t make me go back out there. I don’t want to spend our last day together with my face in front of a screen, going crazy over a book I will never finish.”

“It really would have been a masterpiece,” you say, your voice wet with those yet unspilled tears.

“You give me too much credit,” I say.

“You don’t give yourself enough,” you counter.

You touch my face, your thumb stroking my cheek. “Will you tell me about it?” you ask. “We can go for a walk, just down by the park in the Boston Commons, and you can tell me everything.”

I swallow hard, and it feels like something is catching in my throat, making it difficult to breath, and for a brief moment I think I might expire early. “That sounds nice,” I say.

“And then I can take you out to dinner,” you say. “I hear they’re having an end of the world special at the Capital Grille.”

“Can we go dancing afterwards?” I ask. “It’s been so long since we’ve been dancing?”

You grin, even as a single drop of liquid salt escapes from one of your brilliant cerulean eyes and slides down your face. I reach my hand up on instinct and wipe it away before kissing your eyelid as it flutters closed. “I thought you hated dancing,” you say.

“I am incapable of hating anything so long as I am doing it with you,” I tell him.

You nod. “I’d like that.” You sniffle and repeat, “I’d like that.”

“Hey?” I say, gripping the back of your neck and squeezing lightly. “Just another day?”

You laugh and another tear falls. “Just another day,” you echo.

#lgbtq #prose #short story #writing #my writing

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thadelightfulone · 5 years

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Can We Talk? - Pt. 2

I wanted to get something out since I had a surge of writing energy for my birthday. So, I decided to write a Part 2 to What’s A Valentine. So, if you have not read that yet, go catch up.

Summary: Dani and Erik have a Non-Valentine’s Day night out. And the aftermath of the confrontation in the lobby.

Danielle and Erik are sitting at their table at a quaint little restaurant that was not crowded due to the holiday. Plates in various stages of completion and a bottle of red wine on the table. It is quiet at the table as the soft music plays around them. Just a comfortable silence between the two, not like when they were younger and always had something to say. This was different, and neither party knew where to start.

Dani is hyper-focused on her glass, watching the wine swirl around so as not to make eye contact with the man in front of her. Her thoughts were swirling around like the wine, but they are too much and overwhelming. She does not even know if she is still in a relationship anymore. Something she was very sure of about two hours ago. And Erik. What could she say about that? Him popping up tonight of all nights and calling her out. She should have punched him. It’s not like she could drop him anymore looking like he does, she would barely move him. She shakes her head, smiling with her face down.

Erik has been watching Dani intently since she put her fork down. She was quiet the whole ride over and staring at her phone, waiting for something from Shaun. He scoffs at the thought of him. The argument he witnessed between the two of them held so much more than her utter dislike for Valentine’s day and his adoration for it. But he is clearly in no position to comment on the state of her relationship after watching her relive her heartbreak at his own hands.

He looks down at his tumbler of whiskey before looking up to see a small smile cross her face. She had a beautiful smile. And he has always had deep feelings for her; but he knew what he wanted to do with his life and because Erik did not know how things would turn out, he did not want to drag her down that road with him.

“Why did you leave?”

“I’m sorry,” Their words overlapping one another. Erik waves to her to proceed.

Dani put her wine down and looked over to him, “Why are you sorry?”

Tracing the rim of his glass, “That I did not handle things better when we were younger.” He watches her as she closes her eyes, clearing her vision of the tears that are right below the surface. “And then when I just left. I thought it would be easier if I didn’t tell you. I had no idea the effect that it would have on you, and for that, I am truly sorry, Danielle.” He reaches over to grab her hand, and she lets him. “I would never hurt you on purpose; you have to know that D.”

Sniffling, “It took me years to figure out, but I know you wouldn’t E. Hell, it’s the reason you actually send me flowers, even though they are not in the typical fashion.” They both share a short laugh as Dani looks down at her hand in his.

“When have you ever known me to do things like they are supposed to be done or whatever?” She dabs at her eyes with her napkin shaking her head, “Exactly.” Signaling for the check, he asks, “Are you ready for your ice cream and horror movies now?”

She perks up at that and gathers her clutch, “Of course, but we need to stop for the ice cream.” Erik signs the check, and they both get up to leave.

—

They walk into the grocery store with a plan. On the way over, they decided to make some sundaes. Erik is holding the basket as they make their way to the down the candy aisle. Danielle skips in front of him, snatching up bags of her fave chocolates. “Snickers, Reese’s Cups, 3 Musketeers, Hershey Kisses,”

Erik snatches the basket away, “Ewww, D. 3 Musketeers and Kisses. Girl, what happened to your taste buds?”

“Shut up, and those are the caramel kisses. You act like what doesn’t get used won’t get eaten on its own.” Pouting, she pulls the basket towards her and drops the bags in.

“You never heard of Milky Ways?”

“I like the fluffy nougat in Musketeers, why are you trying to rain on my parade? You know what, grab your own damn candy then.” She prances away. “I’m heading for toppings; you can get the ice cream.”

Before she makes it to the end of the aisle, Erik pulls her back into him. “My bad,” she crosses her arms and looks away from him. “Can you get some peanut M&Ms for me, please?” He nuzzles her neck, “Pretty please with a cherry on top.”

She slaps his arm away from her and walks back down the aisle, mumbling, “I can’t stand you.”

“You love me.” She flips him the bird as she returns with Milky Ways and Peanut M&Ms for him.

On their way to the toppings, they discuss movie choices. “So, I was thinking classic horror movies like the 1974 version of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Scream, and the 1984 version of Nightmare on Elm Street.”

“Whatever you want, I’m game.”

She shoves him. “Come on. You don’t have one pick that you want to add?”

“Dani girl, it’s your night. We are doing what you want.” He reaches over for the 3-pack of sundae topping sauces with Chocolate, Caramel, and Strawberry and throws it in the basket. She stands right in front of the aisle, blocking him. “Seriously?” He scoots her along, and she pops right back into position. Sighing, “Fine. Devil’s Rejects.” He moves her again and grabs some chopped nuts and cherries.

“As in Rob Zombie’s Devil’s Rejects?” Dani pushes her glasses up on her face staring at him like she has never met him before.

He straightens up to look at her, “Yeah. His movies are pretty good. I even enjoyed Strangeland by Dee Snider. Those rock guys are can be very creative.”

“And not just because Robert Englund was in it?”

Erik laughs, “First of all, he wasn’t starring in it like he was in 2001 Maniacs. But it is nice to see the OGs of horror flicks get lil cameos in stuff like that.”

Linking her arm with his, “Mr. Stevens, let me find out you know a lil something about non-mainstream horror.” Erik chuckles as Dani pulls him towards the ice cream freezers.

“There’s a lot you don’t know Ms. George.” He moves to stand behind her with his chin on top of her head, “Pick your poison.”

“You know what I like.” She walks over to the whipped cream and grabs two cans. “It hasn’t changed.”

Erik stands still thinking as she walks back over to him. Moving forward, “You got room for two tubs, or should I get these small boxes?”

“Both gallons will fit,” she tries to keep the smile off her face watching as her best friend grabs for the Neapolitan and Cookies & Cream tubs.

“I can’t believe you still mix this shit together.”

“Aye, I would not have learned this combo if someone didn’t take all the damn vanilla out of the Neapolitan all the time. How do you separate the three greats from each other like that?“ He hands the tubs to her, and they make their way to the register.

He shrugs, “I like vanilla.” He puts all the items up on the conveyor belt. “Anything else you want before we go?” Thinking about it, Dani suddenly takes off.

“Did you find everything ok, Sir?” The young man behind the register asks while ringing up the ice cream.

“Yeah, she just went to grab her chips. We good.” Dani pulls up with 2 bottles of red wine, some Sour Cream & Cheddar Ruffles, Jalapeño Kettle Chips and Flaming Hot Cheetos in a delicate balancing act. Erik grabs the Ruffles from her mouth and the wine, taking a look at the bottle. “Apothic Red Inferno – aged in a whiskey barrel. Is this the closest you will get to drinking whiskey?”

“Yup,” she puts the other bags down, “Hey Charlie, how are you?”

"I’m good, Ms. Danielle. Stocking up so soon, you were in here like two nights ago.” Erik laughs as her face falls. Charlie looks embarrassed, “Sorry.”

“Yes & No, I have an out-of-town guest who likes to eat and drink folks out of home.” She punches Erik hard in the shoulder, only for her hand to recoil in pain.

He leans over and whispers in her ear, “You knew better than to hit me.” She sticks her tongue out at him and reaches into her clutch to pay when Erik bumps her aside and hands his card to Charlie. He grabs her hand and rubs her knuckles while waiting for the receipt.

Dani yanks her hand away and starts to grab a few bags from the end. “Thanks, Charlie.”

Erik collects the rest of the bags and follows her outside. “Thanks.”

The ride back to Dani’s place is silent as the sounds of some Quiet Storm station play in the background. Erik peeks over at her while at a red light. She is definitely in much better spirits after what happened earlier. He is happy that he can be the one to make her smile and laugh again. He wants to be able to enjoy every moment with her and eventually make up for the asshole he was back when he was a teenager.

Erik parks his car under her building and pops the trunk. Dani grabs the flowers from the backseat and walks to the back to take a few bags. Erik grabs a small black bag along with the rest of their goodies.

“Ummm, excuse you. Who said you are spending the night?”

“You aren’t the only one who gets to be comfy while we chill.” He closes the door. “Lead the way, D.”

"Uh huh, yeah ok. Come on; this elevator bypasses the lobby.” They walk past the parking structure entrance to the elevator bank. On the elevator, she hits the button for her floor, “We never finalized our movie watch list.”

“Ladies choice.” He notices the look on her face. “Fine, you pick first and then I will go. Deal?”

The elevator bell dings at her floor and they both exit. Erik follows as she leads the way to her door at the end of the hallway. He takes the bags she had so that she can open the door. Dani turns on some lights and walks into the kitchen. Erik walks in and sets all the bags on the counter. She puts the ice cream into her freezer.

“You can have the bathroom to change. I’ll be back.”

Inside her room, Dani takes a deep breath. This night has turned out better than she could have imagined. It’s just her and her best friend who happens to also be her first love having a great evening. She knows they need to talk about what he saw happen earlier and everything but how. Being with him likes this reminds her of what they could have been, and now just like that she is confused about her feelings. Looking in the mirror after changing into some yoga pants and a crop top with her workout bra, she shakes her head at her runaway train of thoughts. “Enjoy the rest of your ‘Not a Valentine’s’ date night with Erik, Dani girl. There is no need to overthink anything right now.” She takes some deep calming breaths before walking out to the living room.

She finds Erik already changed in a pair of sweatpants and a black tank top showing off his muscular shoulders and lots of keloid scars. She remembers him telling her about his family in Wakanda and his failed attempt at a takeover before becoming a Regional Director to the Outreach Centers on the West Coast. She just never saw the scarring he did to himself, and it only adds more to this man standing in her kitchen lining up the sundae bar.

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer. But this ice cream won’t.” Erik smirks as he caught Dani staring him down.

“You lucky, I am too ready for this sundae party.” Dani walks over bumping Erik as he hands her a big bowl, sliding the ice cream over to her.

Dani’s first sundae contains a little bit of everything they bought except the Milky Ways. Erik snatched up the entire bag and kept them by his side, giving her one or two when he felt like it. They made it through the original Nightmare on Elm Street and a bottle of wine. Now, they were settling down with their second sundae or some chips and candy in Erik’s case and onto his pick, Boo.

“Why do people enjoy tempting fate by going into haunted and abandoned hospitals?” Dani asks through a mouthful of ice cream.

“Hell if I know, but you see how her man’s boy is doing the most trying to scare this chick. If anyone makes it out alive, it better be her.” Erik responds while crunching on some chips.

They both started in different positions in the living room. Erik on the floor under her coffee table while Dani was on the love seat curled into the corner. Then they both were on the floor at the coffee table before Erik stretched his shoulders and Dani moved up behind him to give him a massage as he sat between her legs. As his movie played and they finished eating, he returned the favor by sitting on the couch with her legs on his lap and mindlessly kneading them.

After a quick bathroom break, wine re-up and short clean-up of the kitchen, they are back in the living room watching Dani’s second pick of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Dani is curled into Erik’s side with her favorite fleece blanket over her. Erik has his arm wrapped around her, playing with her curls as she tries to keep her eyes open. He stretches out along the couch pulling her along with him and pulls the blanket up over the both of them. He falls asleep to the sound of her soft snores.

—

The sound of a phone buzzing along the coffee table wakes Erik up from his sleep. He looks to see Dani’s phone screen showing a picture of Shaun. Erik groans and stretches out a bit careful of Danielle who is laying in front of him. Pulling her back, he takes the moment to enjoy the feel of her in his arms and watches her as she sleeps. The buzzing of the phone starts up again and Dani squirms in his arms.

“Morning Sunshine.” He looks down on her as she blinks herself awake.

“Hey. Did we really fall asleep out here?” She quickly moves to an upright position, leaving the comfortable warmth of his arms.

“Yeah, you didn’t make it past the family meeting in Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” He sits up and grabs the blanket before it falls. “I think someone has been trying to reach you. I’ll give you some space.”

Dani looks over to her phone still ringing on the coffee table. She looks over at Erik and grabs the phone, mouthing “Thanks,” before answering. “Hey Shaun, what’s up?”

Erik takes his bag back into the bathroom, washing his face, brushing his teeth, and throwing on his hoodie. He grabs his phone and reschedules his flight back to Oakland for a week later. Erik knows he needs to have a serious sit down with Danielle before he returns home. So, this will buy him some time, and he can continue to work out of the LA office.

“Danielle, we need to talk. When can I see you next?” Shaun gets straight to the point.

“I am free for lunch tomorrow if that works for you.” Dani looks over at the blue screen of her TV and grabs the remote to turn it off.

“Yeah, I can do that. The usual spot close to your office around 12:30pm?”

“Sounds good. I will see you there.”

“Ok, see you then. Bye Dani.” Shaun hangs up as Dani looks at the phone. No ‘I love you’ or his customary nickname goodbye.

She nods her head, “I guess I will find out where we stand tomorrow.” She locks her phone and sets it down as soon as she hears the bathroom door open. Erik walks back into the living room with his keys in hand. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah, I should probably head out. I have a few meetings this afternoon.” Dani walks over to him and wraps her arms around his waist in a big hug. He hugs her back and leans over kissing her forehead. “I had fun last night.”

Muffled into his chest, “Me, too E. It was like when we were younger.” She pulls away and looks up at him. “Will I see you before you leave?”

“Yeah, we can still do lunch or something. I will be in town for another week.” They walk to her front door, and she opens it for him.

“Ok, I will text you when I am free.” She leans against the door frame.

“See you Dani girl.” Erik walks out and looks back at her smiling.

Dani waves at him. “Bye E.”

— The Next Day —

Dani arrives at the restaurant early only to see Shaun already seated at a table. Inhaling deeply, she walks back to him.

Shaun stands up and pulls out her chair. “Hi Dani.” He gives her a quick peck on the lips.

“Hey.” Dani sits down as Shaun makes his way to his chair. The waiter comes by to take their drink order. “I’ll have an iced tea, please.

“Just water for me, thanks.” The waiter leaves, and Shaun looks at Danielle. “So, where should we start?”

“With you. How was last night?” Another server drops by with their drinks. Dani starts to stir the straw in her tea.

“It was great! Mom enjoyed her birthday party as usual and the anniversary celebration went off without a hitch. Well, except that my parents wanted to know why you weren’t there.”

“What did you tell them?”

Shaun takes a sip of his water before responding, “I told them that something came up and you decided to stay in for the night. They hope you are feeling better now.”

Dani nearly choked on her tea, “Yeah, I’m good. You can pass that on.” Shaun waves away the waiter who wanted to come back and take their orders.

“Alright, enough. Tell me how you really feel Shaun.” She takes a nice healthy gulp of her tea before putting her hands in front of her on the table.

“Fine. I am really upset that I had to find out that you do not like Valentine’s Day that way.” He looks around as his voice rose a bit. “Four years Danielle. That’s how long we have been together, and you couldn’t tell me this before?”

“I know, I just…” she sniffs. “I don’t like to talk about it or the why.”

“And that’s another thing. You never got over him.” Dani opens her mouth to speak. “No, please let me get this out before I lose my nerve.” He takes a drink of water, setting it back down, he reaches for her hands. “Danielle, I love you with everything in me. But what happened the other night, I can’t get over that. You couldn’t even look at me when you said that you were happy with me. You were a wreck recounting the story of how he broke your heart. And yet, you were standing there with his flowers in your hand. Were you pissed? Sure, but not enough to throw them at him. Yeah, you cussed and fussed a little bit but did you turn him away? No.”

Dani blinks back her tears. This is it. This is the end of her relationship. She was happy with Shaun, but lately, something felt off, and she could never put her finger on it. Then Erik popped up, and she felt like the 15-year-old laying her heart out to her best friend only for him to crack it and then leave her to heal without really talking it out. Why does Shaun have to make sense now?

“Shaun, I – “

“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Dani. As much as I want to be the man to make you happy and spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t stand by and wait for the day you realize that you never stopped loving him and leave me.” Shaun stands up and pulls Dani into a hug. Cradling her neck, he continues, “I wish you the best Danielle, in life and love. I hope you find what you deserve. I just don’t think it’s with me.“ He pulls back and kisses both of her hands before walking away.

Dani sits back down at the table. The waiter returns, and she orders a Jamison & Ginger Ale. Then leans back and reflects on what Shaun said. Her phone starts ringing as she sees Erik’s number pop up on the screen. She silences it and closes her eyes as her tears slowly fall to the table.

— 2 Days Later —

Danielle is at work trying to listen to her coworker, Rosio, tell her the latest story about her son’s new addiction. He is the sweetest thing, but Dani, just could not keep herself in the present or to act like she cares. It has been two days since Shaun broke things off with her and she has been actively dodging Erik’s calls and texts, too.

Rosio walks over to Dani, “Girl, you have been mopey lately. Drinks after work and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She picks her up, “Now, come on. We’re gonna be late for this meeting.”

It is the end of the workday, and Rosio stands by the corner of Dani’s desk. “Alright, so where are we going?”

"The Mexican spot by my place.” Dani grabs her bag, and they walk to the front closing the office.

“Sure, I’ll follow you.” Rosio heads towards her car, and they pull off.

Over tequila shots, strawberry margaritas and enchiladas, Dani spills to Rosio everything that happened over the last week.

“Dani, I can’t believe you have been holding this in for so long. V-Day was last week, and you took your normal day off afterward, so I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Yeah, well, my relationship did go bust that day in typical Danielle fashion.” Taking another shot, “Only I can manage to have relationships end on the ‘so-called’ day of love.”

“Oh, shut up. It wasn’t all that bad if you hung out with Erik all night.” Rosio takes a sip of her margarita, “He did kind of give you the best Valentine’s Day date ever. Dinner, ice cream and horror movies. It’s like he knows you. Oh wait, he does.”

Shoving Rosio, Dani laughs for the first time in two days. “Thank you. I really did need this tonight.”

“Good, because I hate seeing you all sad and depressed like someone killed your puppy.”

“Really, Rosio? That is such a horrible analogy.“ Dani snickers as she sips her drink.

“Well, you didn’t have to look at you the last few days, so yeah.” Grabbing a few chips, “So, have you talked to your bestie since that night?”

Dani looks down and away, “No, I keep sending him to voicemail or not reading his texts. We were supposed to get together for lunch before he leaves, but I just can’t do it.”

“And why not? That’s your friend.”

"I don’t know what to say or how to act. Shaun was right; I still do care about him a lot and probably never stopped.”

“So, you can tell him that again or forever hold your peace, but I thought you were still going to be his friend regardless.”

Slurping up the rest of her drink, Dani looks at Rosio. “I don’t know if I can anymore.”

“Then he deserves to hear you say that before you end your friendship or whatever. You owe him that much.” Rosio bats away Dani’s hand as she reaches for the check. “I invited you; this is on me.”

Danielle and Rosio part ways outside of the restaurant, “Now, do yourself a favor and call that man back. You two need to talk.”

“I am not ready to have another talk.” Rosio shakes her head as she walks off.

Dani drives back to her place and parks. She looks at the 20-some odd unread texts messages from Erik on her phone. Rosio is right. He is about to head back to Oakland soon and this needs to happen in person.

Arriving at her apartment, she completes her nighttime routine and grabs her phone to finally give him a call. As she settles onto her bed, her doorbell rings. She looks at the time, “Who would be dropping by my place after 10pm?” Walking to the front door, she takes a look at the security screen to the right. “Erik?” She opens the doors, and there he is in his work suit, no tie and a tub of Neapolitan ice cream in hand.

“Ready to talk?”

A/N: There will be a third part to end this mini series. I just tagged the people who asked about a Part 2.

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self-indulgent-sparrow · 6 years

Text

The Party

This is a monster and it just keeps happening. I thought this would clock at maybe 6k??? No. It's 10.7k words. I'm kind of scared. It's 45 pages. Someone hold me.

UM ANYWAY this was an incredibly interesting experiment in writing voices of different characters―I've never really written Simon or Mab or even Dib that much before this. I HOPE I've captured them well, I constantly went through the documents to try to accurately portray them.

It's hard to say what the point of this thing is, outside of “Don't judge a book by its very nice cover” and “respect ppl's decisions and boundaries”. This entire thing was literally just me trying to get Dib and Queenie to have a Chat. Oof.

I apologize in advance to literally everyone for a specific part of this story. You'll know which part, because your soul will leave your body while you experience it.

Enjoy.

you're like a party

somebody threw me, you taste like birthday, you look like new years. you're like a big parade through town: you leave such a mess, but you're so fun!

--the party, regina spektor

"You want to throw a party for Fourth of July? Since when were you so damn patriotic?"

"It's not for Fourth of July in particular," May says, sorting through her recipe box with a small focused frown. "I just kind of figured--there's gonna be fireworks anyway, but I'd like a distraction from the holiday, so why not just make it about having good company in general?"

"That makes absolutely no sense," Kass replies, flicking through the discarded recipe cards. What the hell is yubruk? "Anyone you invite will just think it's a holiday party."

"I really doubt Mab's going to care about a human holiday, and I know Dib's looking forward to not thinking about the current political situation. It's gonna be fine--is my guacamole recipe on the back of one of those cards? I can't find it."

Kass flips some of the cards over, and flicks the card in question towards May's outreached hands across the table.

"Thank you." She glances it over, and then sets it aside to glance at Kass, who is sipping his coffee. "I swear it won't be so bad. It's not gonna be a lot of people, and I'll make the biggest batch of lemonade you've ever seen. You like lemonade, right?"

"Hard lemonade, maybe," he replies shortly.

"Why is everything alcoholic with you."

"I'm an alcoholic."

The girl snorts, slapping her fingers over her mouth to choke down the laugh. Kass continues to drink his coffee, only barely smirking back at her.

"God, you're just the worst," she finally says after the fit of giggles has died.

"I am not the one trying to host a party for a bunch of monsters to pointedly not celebrate the holiday on that day, you little weirdo." He adds, as May sticks her tongue out at him, "Just do me a favor and leave me out of it, alright? This is your inane little get-together, not mine."

"I won't make you do anything, promise. All you have to do is tolerate people being in the house for a few hours. That's it, I swear." The way May smiles, Kass almost believes her, especially when she continues, "As consolation for making you deal with my shenanigans, I will give you the first slice of my strawberry chocolate cake."

Kass frowns around the rim of his mug in speculation, and then mutters moodily, "...it better be a big slice."

As the day of the not-party draw nearer, things at 3, Tesla Drive get a little hectic as she cleans and prepares in between her shifts. On Tuesday, July third, May brings home a watermelon as wide as his ribcage, and uses up half of the counter space to slice it into small, sweet triangles. A couple go missing when she walks away for a moment to put her hair up, and if she notices she says nothing, because it's still enough watermelon to feed a small country. Kass watches her wrap the watermelon slices and slide them into the fridge underneath the vegetable tray.

She bakes the cake layers, and whips the cream, and sets them both in the fridge overnight, with the air of someone who's done this countless times before. Kass watches her work from the kitchen door frame then, and the morning after, where at 10 am she's already been up for two hours. Two hours, and she's already peeled and chopped potatoes and sliced strawberries.

She's at the counter, pouring lemon juice into a bowl, when Kass serves himself cereal. "Good morning," May says, distracted, moving to the sink when he nudges her aside to reach for the coffee. "Sorry I didn't make breakfast."

"Didn't expect you to," he replies, pouring the warm contents into his mug.

(The mug, part of a set, has a king chess piece on it. She'd bought it as a joke, and uses the queen mug personally.)

He eats at the table, which is still blessedly clear save for the bowl of sliced strawberries, while May finishes the guacamole and quickly cleans her knives. She's pulling the cooled cake out of the fridge when he asks, suddenly rather concerned, "This isn't a formal attire party, right? You aren't going to demand I wear a button up or anything bizarre?"

"In this weather? Course not. A clean shirt and a pair of pants would be nice," the girl says, matter-of-factly, pulling out the tub of frosting and popping off the lid. "Beyond that I leave it up to you. Could you pass me the strawberries?"

Upon being offered the bowl, May squints at it suspiciously.

"This bowl is lighter than it was when I put it on the table."

"No it's not," he says, convincingly.

There's a small groan, and then a sigh. She frosts one layer of the cake with a wide spatula, while Kass watches, leaning on the fridge quite helpfully.

"Hey asshole, get the strawberries out, I gotta cut more. Anyway," May continues, beginning to place slices onto the frosted center, "If you end up deciding you're sick of the company, by all means you're free to hide in your room. I won't pester you. I can't say the same for other people, though."

"I'll cross that bridge when I get to i-ow." Kass pulls his fingers back from the strawberry bowl. May waves the frosting spatula at him threateningly.

"You have had enough, sir. Let me finish."

He sticks his stung finger in his mouth, and grins around it at her like a leer. May begins to giggle.

"You are such a child, sometimes."

As noon approaches, they both shower, and she's still there when the doorbell rings, so Kass, against his better judgment, answers the door. "You knock, now?" he says with faux surprise, when Simon and Gunter cross the threshold.

"Hey, man, give me some credit, my hands are full," Simon jokes back, gesturing to the tray of popsicles in his hands. Gunter is holding a pie--apple, by the looks of it. "Is there space in your freezer for these? Don't want them to melt."

They follow him into the kitchen, and Kass takes the tray to slide it into the small freezer above the fridge. The popsicles look to be made of different kinds of fruit. He nearly claims one now, until he glances down and the penguin is staring at him, so instead, he closes the freezer door with a little huff. Fine. Later, then.

The fridge is running out of space, so the pie is left on the table. The lemonade sits in a tall pitcher, condensation forming at its sides, on the counter. Kass grabs one of May's nicer glasses that she's brought down for the occasion, pouring the cool drink and offering it silently to Gunter. The penguin looks surprised, but accepts it. It looks between him and Simon, and then states, a touch awkwardly, "I'm going to go set up the snacks in the living room."

Kass watches Simon somewhat warily, looking over the cleaned shirt and blue, star patterned bow tie. Simon deftly ignores him, pulling food out of the fridge to set onto the kitchen table. "Dang, that's the cake May made? It looks rad!"

Since the break-in visit Kass had been told about, Simon has been over several times. While Kass had initially regarded him with little more than suspicion and disdain, Simon had been unusually (to him at least) respectful of his personal space, physically and verbally. He'd seemed more interested in helping May cook, or bringing a movie to watch together.

They had had a conversation about O'Malley while playing Mario Kart on May's Wii, mildly terse while he had avoided red shells and banana peels. It had been somewhat brief--an admittance to the act, an open distaste for the damn dog, and Kass's attempt to generally wave the whole situation aside. It wasn't a perfect patch job, but it was better than nothing, he supposed, and Simon had been less pushy.

He'd been tolerable, while being himself, but it never quite took the edge off. It is, after all, Simon, do-good-be-good Simon. It's why Kass is immediately skeptical and squinting when Simon asks, "How've you been lately? You seem better."

His mouth is a thin line, but Simon's not looking as he reaches into the pantry and grabs the chip bag to dump into a bowl.

"Peachy. You wouldn't believe what not having an anxious brat following you around does for your nerves. Dib's not here too, which helps."

"Pfffbt." The boy (hardly a boy anymore, but he'll never be much else in Kass's eyes) pulls the plastic wrap off the guacamole, studying it curiously. When he looks up at Kass, his smile is undaunted by the jab. "Following you around in a different house would be way too much work, even for me. And anyway, May told me space would do you some good, so I've been nice."

He makes a harsh little "tch" noise with his tongue. "Of course, when the bird tells you, you listen. Nevermind I stated repeatedly for you to keep your shenanigans to yourself for months, then."

"You, sir, are a liar and a fiend, so I ignore what you say constantly. Half the time you're projecting anyway," Simon says, with a snicker, "and the other half, you're making really dated references that show how darn old you are."

"I am not old.”

"Okay, mister Mid Life Crisis. You're not old."

Kass mumbles something under his breath, nursing a second glass of lemonade. Simon blinks in his direction.

"I missed that. Say it again?"

With a little grimace, he repeats himself. "I said, we're still not friends. Don't expect me to come over and play. "

Simon rolls his eyes. "Whatever makes you feel good, dude. You're doing fine over here anyway, you've chilled out a lot."

"Yes, well, when I'm not constantly told to change my core person to fit a standard, I tend to thrive."

Simon sets the paper plates in his hand down, and looks at Kass. His expression is a hard one to fathom--the flesh of his cheek is pulled up, like a half grimace. With a little chuff, he pushes his glasses up his nose.

"You know what, you're right. I was pushing you really hard."

Wait, what?

This isn't a subject they've touched on for a while. Kass, more than anything, had meant it as a general rib, but the jab seems to have been more effective than he'd assumed. His surprise is evident, because Simon continues.

"I mean, I don't feel like I'm wrong, because I know you can be better than you let on--but!" He holds up a finger at Kass's little scowl. "I was pushing way too hard, at way too soon a time."

He sits in a chair at the table, gesturing, looking a touch sheepish. "I should have recognized way sooner that you were spiraling into a bad state. I won't get too weepy--I've apologized plenty of times about it and I know you're sick of it. My point, here, is, I never really looked at the situation from your point of view."

Kass watches warily, as Simon dips a chip into the guacamole, and sticks it into his mouth. He makes a pleasantly surprised sound, and swallows, then gestures again, a little shrug.

"I tried to get it, but it didn't really sink in until the whole, uh. The thing with Pickman. I didn't register how deep a level the Foundation stuff was ingrained into you. That's on me, and I'm sorry."

For a long minute, there is quiet. It's awkward, and uncertain.

Kass says, a little caught off guard, "We're starting this party off on a very low note, you know."

Simon snickers again.

"My bad. But I'm really glad you're starting to feel better. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know." He points at Kass sharply, squinting. "Illegal activity is out, though."

Kass finds himself very nearly smiling. "We'll see," he says.

"See wh--Simon, you blessed boy! You're early!" May's enthusiasm fills and controls a whole room, and she dives into Simon's arms when he stands. "You didn't have to come help!"

"Well," he says, seeming pleased, "I figured it'd take a load off your mind. Gunter and I brought some extra desserts."

When May pulls away, she examines the pie brightly. "Look, Kass, a cutie pie! And also, an apple pie."

"....May."

She can't help how her chest shakes from laughter. "That's it, I'm sorry. That's the only joke I'll make."

"It was so bad," Simon says, affronted.

"I'm sorry," she says again, though she doesn't seem very sorry. "I'm just so happy--You're here, and you look nice and I suddenly feel much, much less stupid about this whole thing."

It catches Kass a little off guard to hear that, because she hasn't seemed self conscious as she planned the party--a touch rushed, maybe.

Had he failed to notice, or had she just hidden it that well?

Simon grins at May as she touches his bow tie, the pair of them thick as thieves. "You look adorable and I hope you know it."

Though Kass will never admit it, Simon is right. May has chosen to leave her glasses off today, and her hair, still damp from her shower, is pulled back into tight pigtails. A blue ribbon peeks out behind the springing curls, loose by her neck, and her shirt has a feather pattern around the collar.

She's embraced the summer mood, it seems. Her face lights up from the compliment.

"Actually," she asks sheepishly, "could you give me a hand? I'm not very pleased with the ribbons and you could probably get a better angle than I could."

"Sure!"

Simon ushers May out the hall, to the bathroom. Kass slips past them into the living room. The penguin and a green little clone are setting the coffee table with food, neither of them looking up while he maneuvers to set up the Wii.

"Awfully considerate of you," it says from somewhere behind him. Kass checks the batteries of each spare remote, and then flicks through the disks, picking multiplayer games and setting them beside the console.

"If I have to tolerate this ridiculous backwards event, I might as well find ways to enjoy myself," he replies.

"Right," Gunter says. "Of course. That's all."

"That's all, Ducky."

The doorbell is well timed, and Kass stays put as it's opened by the bird. He half turns, watching Dib, already bright red from the heat, strip his trench coat off to hang on the door's coat peg.

"One hundred and three degrees," the boy mumbles. "One hundred and three stupid degrees. And everybody's barbecuing."

(His shirt is bright blue, and has a spiraling wind pattern. This is very ironic.)

"Need cold. Need fluids."

Dib makes his way into the kitchen, reappearing moment later with a cold glass pressed to his forehead. He drops heavily onto the couch, and finally seems to notice Kass, raising a hand in a half greeting. Kass raises his eyebrows, and then looks over the couch, and grins.

"Psst. Constant Vigilance."

"Nn," Dib says wearily. "What."

"Look."

Suspiciously, Dib looks behind the couch to the base of the stairs where Simon and May reappear to enter the kitchen. He gasps at the sight of the tiny springs at the base of her neck.

"Oh my goooooosh."

"I told you," Kass says, a touch smug.

"That's--That's so cute," Dib hisses back, grinning wide around the lip he is biting into. "That is so good."

"What are you two jerks snickering about," May asks as she sets the vegetable tray onto the coffee table.

"N-Nothing--" Dib says, at the exact moment Gunter says, "Kass pointed out your pigtails."

May peeps (god, it's brilliant when she does that), and then yells. "What is with you people and my hair!!"

Kass snickers and ducks the pillow chucked in his direction, tossing it back in Dib's direction.

When Simon and Gunter drop onto the couch, Kass tosses them each a controller and drops into his recliner, only half listening to the party, his hands behind his head.

Simon, to some degree, is right. He is more relaxed. This is his space, currently being invaded upon with his own permission. That's what he tells himself, at least, slitting one eye open to watch Simon hand Dib his ass in Super Smash Bros.

Four rounds later, Dib has won all of a single match, staunchly holding to playing Samus while Simon flicks through Pacman, Lil Mac, and Ness. Gunter has decided he has a very high interest in May's guacamole, and has helped himself to a good portion of the stuff, ignoring the cold cut sandwiches and veggie tray.

May's still not appeared to join them. When Kass stands and peeks into the kitchen, he finds her at the stove. The faerie queen is sitting on the edge of the counter by the window, the sunlight painting patterns on her wings. It's with a little grimace that Kass maneuvers around her to pour himself a glass of the lemonade, ignoring their conversation.

He catches sight of the stove--wait. May's making french fries. Unashamed, Kass sidles to her side and steals a couple finished ones on the plate.

"Stop stealing food," she mumbles with a little smile.

"Stop having friends that are all in my nightmares," he retorts, blowing on the fry and sticking it in his mouth. Ah, unsalted. Probably a batch for the faerie then.

"Sorry?"

It is, at this very moment, that the back door to the kitchen bangs open. All three inhabitants jump nearly a foot, and only two relax as the cause makes itself known.

"Sup?" The nightmare queen proclaims, posing dramatically in the door frame. "Y'all can relax now, I'm here. The party can finally start."

Kass attempts very hard to make himself invisible, and does not succeed, though the new guest ignores him to throw her arm around May's shoulders. He's not a fan in the slightest of the queen that visits from time to time―she looks like Sydney, but isn't Sydney, and she has a tendency to drip onto the sofa and make creepy faces at him without thinking about it. Certainly she's not threatened him, but he's seen her head come off at least once, and he's not interested in being within three feet of that.

"You are dressed all in black, how are you not dead from the heat," he hears May murmur with a smile in her voice.

"It's the aesthetic, man. Suffer for the look."

"I love you, dumbass."

He maneuvers away from all three queens--that's way too much power in one room for his comfort--at the same moment that Mab proclaims, "May, dear, you've hardly left the kitchen this entire time. This is your event, you should relax!"

"I'm almost done, alright? This is the last batch of fries, and then I gotta salt some of them and we'll be good to relax."

"You've made plenty, you've got to go join your own party! Nobody's going to starve, you've made sure of that," the queen coaxes. Kass watches, as he retreats with his glass, Mab and the other one--Queen Nothing? a stupid name, he can think of something better--usher the bird away from the stove. She resists only a little, snapping the stove dial off.

Kass stays on the peripherals of the scene when they finally drop her onto the edge of the couch. Slime princess drops onto the arm of the couch beside Simon, smiling in what she must imagine is a relaxed manner but really comes off with far too many teeth.

"This guacamole is fantastic, May, could I possibly bother you for the recipe?" Gunter asks, and true enough, the bowl is much emptier than it had been when Kass had left.

"I'll make a copy for you," she replies, hugging a pillow. "Pass me some snap peas?"

For a few long minutes, the party is absolutely wonderful, and loud, without him. He thinks, maybe, he'd like to creep off soon, but he doesn't, just standing at the base of the stairs watching the madness unfold.

What a strange bunch of characters. Of course they all found each other. Of course they all get along. Who else would have them?

Simon and Dib eventually hand the controllers to May and the ink hazard, who are both godawful at Mario Kart. It certainly doesn't stop them from trying, though eventually he does lose his patience at how badly his roommate is failing and snatch her roommate to shoot her to third place. She had fought him for it for just a moment before yielding, and he's suddenly back in the fray of this stupid event.

He soon finds out every queen is bad at Mario Kart, and really, that almost takes all the fun out of winning. Almost--not quite.

On the couch where he rests his elbows, Dib and Simon are having a conversation about the new Marvel movie, and the villain's absolute inane scheme.

"I mean, it's at least a better motivation, than say, universal conquest," Dib claims, "But dude! You're wearing a matter manipulator, and you're arguing there aren't enough resources? Make more!"

"Nobody's arguing his concept isn't super donked up," Simon counters, "but I'm not really sure he knows any better. Plus, can the gauntlet really make more matter?"

"Well by that argument, he could have turned a bunch of useless waste into more resources," is the very irritable retort.

"What the hell is even happening in these movies anymore," May adds, scoffing. "I never bothered watching Civil War and now there's an evil grape."

"You never watched Civil War? But that one's actually pretty good!"

"Dude. Age of Ultron suuuuuuucked. I got jaded. All I know is everybody's in Civil War and duking it out because Tony's doing some more shit no one agrees with because no one will get that man therapy."

An apt description, Kass thinks. Apparently, not enough one for Dib and Simon, who begin to explain.

"Well, it's more about this bill--"

"And there's a terrorist attack--"

"And it seems like Bucky did it but--"

"Jesus Christ," May says when they are finally done, her head in her hands. "That was almost as bad as What's Up Tiger Lilly."

Kass squints at his roommate at the same moment someone, he's not sure who, asks, "What's What's Up Tiger Lilly?"

"No," she says, muffled into her fingers. "I'm not telling you the What's Up Tiger Lilly story. You don't want that."

They all exchange looks, and then look expectantly back to her.

"Well, now you have to tell us. You can't tease us like this," Simon states.

"Pleeeeeease," adds the Void Girl, grinning wide and batting her eye at May in what she thinks is a pleading expression.

May's eyes narrow. She shakes her head once.

"I warned you."

She takes a large drink of her lemonade as everyone waits, the video game and snacks forgotten. He finds himself only vaguely intrigued, but more than anything he realizes, watching her eyes glittering, that she is basking in the attention.

Holy shit.

May's a storyteller.

"Now," she begins, "You have to understand this is not my story--I got this story from Ethan, who was my coworker at one of my old part time jobs. We worked at Jimmy John's. Now for those who haven't been to Jimmy John's, it's like Subway, but more mediocre. Subway, you have countless options to choose from, right? Jimmy John's, you have far fewer options, but you're gonna get your sandwich in about thirty seconds, so that's great I guess."

May puts her hands in the air in a shrug. "I'm sure this is a talent I'll eventually find useful in life, but so far I've come up dry. Thanks a bunch, Jimmy John."

"Anyway," she continues, "I got this story from Ethan, but this story didn't happen to Ethan. This story happened to his old friend Jake, while the both of them were in high school. Now, because basically none of you went to high school," (here, May squints around the room with a little crooked smirk), "high school is basically this place you go to spend four years learning nothing substantial and existing as a ball of anxiety pretty much the entire time. For, you know, eight hours almost every day."

She grins.

"So not at all a waste of time, right?"

Dib snorts. The queens nod sagely, though really, only one of them really knows what May's going on about.

"So Ethan and Jake went to high school together, and they were in movie club. Now, again, since almost none of you went to high school--clubs are a place in high school where you decide, 'I've only been here eight hours, that's not enough! I wanna be on my school campus some more.' Then you find some friends who like the same things as you do and also wanna be on campus for even longer."

May looks up at Kass with a bit of a wicked smile, one he's learned to be mildly concerned about. Very quickly, he learns the cause.

"Now, friends," (she turns and stares directly at the queen on the other end of the couch, who sheepishly shrinks into her shoulders), "are people who like your company. Usually, they will actively try to spend time with you! You may never be sure why, even though they claim it's because they think you're fun to be around. Or something."

Little monster. Kass flicks her ear, and she giggles, pushing his hand away. "Stop that, I'm telling a story."

"Anyway," May says again, forcefully, "You and your friends all find a thing you like to do, like, say for example, sports."

As if anyone in this room likes sports. Kass hides his smirk in his folded arms on the backboard of the couch.

"Sports," the bird adds helpfully, "are basically a stupid form of physical activity that require movement and sweat and usually sitting out in the sun! Crazy concept, right! The AC exists for a reason."

"May," Simon says, his hands folded in front of his face as though he is concentrating very hard. "Please."

She continues, undeterred. "There's usually grass and some kind of ball and I hope most of you know what a ball is, because I'm not going to explain that."

"May," Simon says, a little more forcefully.

"Please," Dib adds, a hint of desperation in his voice.

They're figuring out the scheme, slowly.

"Okay, we're getting off topic. So, Ethan and Jake are in a club, and they are in movie club. Movie club was this thing where Ethan and Jake and their friends would get together to watch a movie, and then discuss what happened in the movie, and subjects like the movie's themes. Now," May holds up a finger in an explanatory matter, "Themes are like, the meaning of the story, or what the story is trying to get across with its moral, and morals for those of you that don't have them," (she's grinning at Kass again), "are complex ideas about right and wrong."

She smooths her shirt down, and takes another sip of her lemonade. "They're usually widely debated by people who don't have any, and yet decide they're doing things like taking away people's rights out of 'moral obligation'. But I'm getting off topic."

This is the worst story ever. Holy shit. Already an air of distress is descending upon the guests.

"The theme of this story would probably be about the folly of man and the error of judging a book by its cover, or what have you," the bird says, nonchalantly. "Now, a book is like a movie, but instead of being told visually, the contents are shared through words, written on pages bound together, and usually reading is involved."

"MAY," Dib hisses, pained.

"No, no, this is important to the story, see, because because Ethan and Jake were in movie club, and it was Jake's turn to get a movie for the club. So he goes to the library. A library is a place that contains information in many books. But it also contains other forms of media like newspapers, which are real stories versus fictional ones. This is a real story by the way. No newspaper will publish it. I've tried."

Kass has to physically bury his head into the hard bend of the couch to keep from laughing. She's good at this, she's good at keeping this train wreck entertaining. She's a terrible little monster.

"Besides books and newspapers, you can also borrow things such as DVDs, and at this point a DVD is a somewhat dated sort of disk that--Dib no come back!!" May suddenly says as Dib stands, his hands in the air as though he can't take anymore. "This story has a great pay off come on man--thank you, as I was saying."

Dib crosses his arms. Kass reaches over the pokes him in the head. "You did ask for this."

"Don't touch me."

"Young man. Am I going to finish my story, or are you just going to keep interrupting me."

"I'm good. Keep going."

"Good boy," says the pleased bird. "Where was I. Hm, I can't quite remember--should I start over?"

"May!"

"Right, yes, a DVD is a dated sort of way to watch movies. So, Jake went to the library to borrow a movie, and he decided he was going to borrow the movie What's Up Tiger Lilly."

The room visibly relaxes with relief. Finally, they all seem to think. We're finally getting to the story.

Kass knows better. Kass hides his grin, watching the reactions carefully.

"Now, What's Up Tiger Lilly is a Woody Allen movie. It's some kind of kung fu movie he basically dubbed over with a completely different story," May explains, and then adds, her voice quirking up in pitch, "which I guess makes it very artistic?"

Mab nods, though she does look a touch confused, and the penguin says from the other side of the coffee table, "That is.... an apt explanation. Really, the only explanation needed so far."

"This is my story and I'll tell it how I like, thank you Gunter." Her tone is a touch affronted, though always, always laced with sarcasm.

"Apologies. Continue."

"So, Jake went back to movie club with What's Up Tiger Lilly, and he and his friends watched it. They enjoyed it!"

That wicked smile is back.

"Enjoyment is an emotion you feel, likely the very one you feel now as you listen to this wonderful story I'm telling you. I know you're enjoying it because you're my friends, and you like my company, and you like my stories."

"May," the ink girl says at the end of the couch. "Please. You care about me, right. Please stop this madness."

"So they watched this movie," May continues, undeterred, "and they experienced enjoyment, and they discussed it.

And time passed.

Now, seeing as not all of us conform to time's rules, time--"

Dib makes a strangled sort of noise, like a scream that got locked behind his tongue. Kass presses his forehead to his fist on the backboard. He cannot look.

"Time is a somewhat linear linear mostly wonked up passage of growth, usually noted in minutes, hours, and days. It's very convoluted and made up by humans because they apparently need more ways to stress themselves out, like being late to things. for example, you're probably thinking to yourself, the time you spend listening to me tell this story couldn't be spent in a better way at all, and it's going by so fast! I'm halfway through the story!!"

"May," Kass says, very evenly. "You are going to get thrown across the room."

"Explain throwing to me really quick?"

The flat stare he gives her is answer enough. The monster on the couch grins widely.

"Anyway. Time passed, and then, one year later--" (May holds up a finger) "--Jake went back to the library. A year is three hundred sixty-five days. This was probably a little more than that, but not by much. He went to the library, and he picked out some books to check out. I'm not sure what he checked out, maybe he decided it was time to reread Harry Potter but could only find a copy of book five, which is confirmed to be the most depressing, unenjoyable novel of the series."

Kass watches Simon's expression very carefully, noting the tight-eyed squint. Simon does not rise to the bait.

"Maybe he was doing a book report, because at this point people still went to libraries to get information out of books, a method so dated and untrustworthy nowadays that those poor libraries should really do something with all those dated encyclopedias."

Now Simon does open his mouth, visibly irritated. May is grinning right at the boy, obviously goading. He barely gets a word out.

"Do not--"

"An encyclopedia!" she interrupts loudly, "Is a book with information on every possible subject known to man!"

"May--"

"They usually come in collections! But none of that matters. What matters is Jake went and grabbed some books he decided to check out."

Simon gives up, shaking his head impatiently at the couch cushions.

"He brought his books to the counter, and he said hello to the librarian. The librarian was a woman--Ah, wait, I should clarify--"

The room bursts into an uproar along the lines of "we know what a woman is--"

"A LIBRARIAN is a person who works in a library."

Kass can't hold it back anymore--he's wheezing into the back of the sofa pathetically. Fuck, she's horrible. Dib is visibly getting irritated, and Mab looks to be getting there. The noise only dies when May says, "Can I finish my story, or will I need to start over?”

Reluctantly, the party goes quiet again. May nods.

"Thank you. As I was saying. The librarian was a woman, and Jake went up to the checkout desk. Jake said 'hello!' The librarian said 'hi!' Jake said, 'I would like the check out these books!'

The librarian said, 'okay, let me see your library card'. And she scanned it, and she looked at the computer. And she went, 'hmm.'"

May puts her hand on her chin in mock contemplation for a moment, acting it out. Everyone seems to be holding their breath, afraid to interrupt when actual progress is happening.

"'What is it?' Jake said.

'It says here that you checked out What's Up Tiger Lilly, and never returned it,' the librarian said.

'Oh,' said Jake.

'Yes, it says here you have a fine of eleven dollars and twenty cents. You can't check out any more library books until you pay the fine.'

And Jake said, 'oh,' again.

The librarian said, 'Do you want to pay the fine?'"

May steeples her fingers. She smiles sweetly.

"And Jake said, no."

There is a pause. Several long beats pass.

May says nothing more. She continues to smile.

"Are you," Dib finally says. "Are you actually--That's IT?"

She looks like the cat that got both the cream and the canary. Kass begins to snigger into the sofa again.

"This is so stupid! That was the stupidest--Why did you--aaaagh."

Simon's face is distorted, a mix between amused and horrified at himself. "The punchline," he says slowly, "is that he wouldn't pay a library fine?"

"Yes."

"....This is a bad story."

"Aw."

The queens both look a level of distressed, though in different ways. While the eldritch horror seems, for lack of a better phrase, split down the middle between laughing and committing a murder, Mab is staring at May, her eyebrows creased. Kass realizes, exactly, what's about to happen, at the exact moment Mab says, "I don't understand."

"Oh no!" May says, holding back a cackle. "Mab didn't get it guys, I gotta do it over again and explain it better this tim--"

"NO!"

The chorus rings throughout the room sharply. Kass can feel May's wide smile from behind his hand, firmly clasped over her mouth. She's visibly shaking with giggles--he's not doing too much better.

She wasted a good half hour of their time, like this, he realizes when he glances at the clock. She had managed to get them to sit and listen to her say nothing of consequence for a full half hour. The nerve of her is something to be applauded.

At her gentle tap against the back of his hand, Kass removes his fingers. The bird looks smug, smiling at her guests who are coming down from their rages. Dib has picked the game controller back up, very determined to not look at his host.

“That was mean,” Gunter says, looking rather amused in retrospect. “That was absolutely terrible.”

“What, you people think I'm nice?” comes the reply, followed with a shrug. “Honestly, it's like you don't even know me!”

“You're wicked,” Mab says, finally smiling. “You'd give the fae a run for their money.”

May seems far too pleased with herself at that. She sits back against the couch, sipping her lemonade pleasantly.

“I once heard an hour long rendition of that story. I'm still improving at it, to be honest! But now,” she adds, grinning dangerously, “You can share it with your friends!”

When cake is served, May is good on her word. She gives Kass a large slice, refills his lemonade glass, and waves him away as he escapes back up the stairs to his bedroom. It's a cool, dark space, and he lights a quick smoke, something he'd avoided doing down with the guests.

While it is not a bad party, by any means, he has had his fill, he thinks. For now, he wants some time to himself.

With time, he hears the party become quieter. The afternoon slips into early evening, the shadows only barely longer. He wakes from a nap to a quiet house, a murmur of sound the only hint that it is not entirely empty.

He stands and stretches, feeling the vertebrae of his back click softly. It's almost seven when he gathers his dishes and exits his room. What are the chances there's still cake, or a slice of pie?

Kass is at the foot of the stairs when he stops.

He hears―rather, he overhears―in the kitchen―

“―we please drop this? Just today? I―today was a good day, dude, can't we just bask in it without talking about this again?”

“I'm sorry, May, I'm just―I gotta make sure! You know I can't just let it go―this is Kass we're talking about.”

It doesn't take a genius to know that's Dib. May, on her part, sounds agitated, moving around the kitchen, running the sink. Kass can picture it, can picture the little impatient steps and how things knock about when she accidentally swats them while reaching for things. That just makes her angrier.

“Why? Why is it such a big deal to you? I thought you didn't care anymore, you were fine when the man went missing. It was like you didn't even notice.”

“It's―It's not that I didn't care, I just―I didn't want to waste energy on trying to find a guy that doesn't want to be found. I do care! I'm going to care, and I'm going to worry and be suspicious!”

“Why can't you let it go?”

“Because!” Dib seems to snap harshly, before he stops, as though catching himself. When he speaks again, it's in a lower volume, and more controlled.

“This is Kass. This is the guy who lied to me for months, and was a huge jerk to me and my friends for years, and that was before he got stuck in my garage. You know how many times he's thrown me under the bus―you have to understand. I'm going to be a bit hyper-vigilant! I'm going to worry!”

This isn't the first conversation Kass has overheard about himself. He's spent long enough in 1, Tesla Drive, and in Site 17, and many other places, to hear numerous insults about his person. It, for the most part, doesn't bother him, so much as it annoys him that people have really nothing better to talk about.

What Kass is surprised to find unpleasant is the idea of May talking about him. Of course she does, he know logically she'd talk about him while he's not around, but there's something so possibly two-faced about it.

He hears her small huff.

“I get that―and it's fine to be nervous, okay? It's fine to not trust him, that's not what I'm saying. But that's not what you're doing. What you're doing is questioning my choices. My judgment. You still have this idea that I need protecting, but I don't. I'm not telling you to get over it and be his friend, I'm not an idiot. But, Christ, Dib, I expect you to trust my decisions.”

"But I'm worried about you. I know you said you could handle him but he's just a lot to deal with. Plus," Dib says with a little sniff. "You shouldn't have to deal with someone like that on a daily basis. You don't deserve that."

"Okay,” she says after a beat, her tone sharp and irritated, “First off. I'm not handling him. Kass is not some kind of wild animal I'm trying to tame. Secondly, I'm much more capable than you give me credit for. I'm in charge of an entire species, most of which don't like me. I work retail. You think I can't deal with a little bit of criticism and insults? You think I can't deal with a bad attitude from time to time?"

There's a moment of quiet, filled with nothing but the clatter of dishes and the running water.

"....I didn't know that. They don't like you?"

"Not the point, here, hon. My point is, look. This isn't something you need to worry about. You don't need to worry about me, and you don't need to trust him. You need to trust me. You need to trust that I can take care of myself, and that I can manage living with him. And I'm getting really sick of having to defend my friendship, dude. We're adults, we should be past this."

Oh, she shouldn't have said that. She shouldn't have, that opens such a gaping wound, that--

"Wait, Kass is your friend?"

"Oh, here we go." The dishes clatter loudly.

"Kass doesn't have friends, May."

"Don't start with me, Dib.”

"No, seriously! Simon tried for months to convince the guy! You know what it resulted in? It resulted in sharpie on his forehead and honey stuck in places there shouldn't be honey! Kass doesn't have friends, he refuses to even fake it, and maybe Frank's an exception, but I don't think Frank's picky--"

"Ow! Fuck!"

Kass stiffens at the little swear. Dib stops talking―the water stops running.

"What happened?"

"Cake knife got me. No―don't go anywhere, I'm fine."

“You want me to go grab a band-aid?”

"No, no. It's healing up already, see?"

"Nn. You're sure?"

"I'm good, hon. Just tired. Can we―can we please drop this subject?"

"Nnn,” Dib says, clearly not ready to drop this subject, “can I just say one more thing?"

May doesn't respond, so Dib continues, undeterred.

“I just think, of all of us, you're the one that needs to be the most worried about Kass causing issues. Simon and I know what he's like, and the kind of under the table stuff he's pulled. You―you haven't been around him as long as we have, and you always see the best in people. But―he needs a closer eye on him. If something happens--if he gets picked up by the Foundation, he's going to sell us all out if he thinks it even has a chance of saving his skin.”

“I―“

“Please let me finish. He'll sell us out and that includes you. I know we can handle it, we can figure something out, we always do, but if something goes wrong―May, when I told them about what ZiM's PAK could do they completely disabled it, with no way for him to get out. They'll keep you under the tightest lock and key. They'll shove you into the tiniest cell and poke and prod at you until they know every little thing you can do and then they'll leave you there.”

Dib's voice, his cadence, is painfully sincere. Maybe a touch raw. Maybe he's faking the depth of his worry, playing it up to make her listen―he's done it in the past. Still, he speaks with more familiarity than he seems to want to.

“You need to be careful about what you say to him and what you tell him. I don't want you to get hurt.”

There's a silence. It's heavy and stifling, and then May says in a low, dark voice, “I don't―you know what? I can't deal with this right now. I have to go clear the living room―I'll be back in a minute.”

Oh, shit.

Before Kass can slink away from the wall beside the door frame, she stomps out through it and nearly barrels right into him. They stare at each other a moment, exchanging no words.

She looks... angry. He thought he'd seen her angry before, but he's never seen this; her eyes are slits, her shoulders tense and up to her ears. The air around her seems boiling hot with barely-contained rage, the curls of her pigtails loose and framing her face unevenly.

May looks him in the eye, and then grits her teeth, looking away and moving around him without so much as a word. Kass watches her storm into the living room, gathering paper plates and used napkins. Her motions are jarring, forced and rushed.

This is held-back anger―not the snappish tones she's shot his way when he's opened his mouth too much, not the tense way her fingers push her hair back from her face when she's got four and a half things all happening at once. She cleans when she's angry. She channels it everywhere but where it should go.

And that's―

That's such bullshit, Kass finds. It's not the particular speech Dib's given May that gets under his skin, but the pretentiousness of it all. He's done that thing he and Simon and Mab always seem to do. They stick their noses into other people's business. They insert their own opinion into a subject that has nothing to do with them.

They've done it with Kass for years now. He understands why, to some extent. He hates it, but he thought he understood why―he had thought the distrust was always behind it. He'd figured it was the way Dib needed to make sure he didn't throw them all under the bus again.

But, apparently, it's just the kind of shitty, awful, bratty child that Dib is; so much so that he does this sort of thing to his supposed friends too. He can't seem to help himself―he's too full of himself and too stuck on his high horse. The stupid kid still thinks he's the smartest person in the room. He's sixteen and he thinks he knows better than full-blown adults.

Kass wipes away the snarl that's been growing on his face, and forces his eyes away from the girl's turned back. He slips into the kitchen, where Dib is standing awkwardly in front of the sink, fidgeting with a towel he'd been drying dishes with.

Dib looks, more than anything, startled, and for once, uncertain. His eyes had locked onto the door frame, as though waiting for May to return, but upon seeing Kass, his expression slides directly back into distrust and disinterest, eyes lidded and squinty.

“Hi.”

“How's it going, Lightning Bolt,” Kass says, flatly, without interest.

“It's.... going.”

“Where's the barefoot wonder?” he asks hollowly, checking the fridge's leftovers. No good―he's lost his interest in anything sweet, from the bitter taste in his mouth. “Already gone home to candy land?”

He can feel Dib's eyes on his neck as he turns his back. He has not missed this feeling in the slightest.

“Simon went to grab some snacks from Uuu. He and I are going to take the Voot to watch the fireworks from bird's eye view.”

“Interesting,” he responds, moving to the sink. It's not interesting, really. “So it's just you then?”

He's in Dib's bubble, and it's obvious the teen is tense, but all Kass does is rinse his plate and glass. He leaves them in the sink, eyes on his own hands.

He grabs a clean glass from the dry pile. “You're leaving ET on its own tonight of all nights? You find that wise?”

“ZiM is fine,” Dib says, a touch sharply. “He's used to loud explosions.”

“Of course. War species.”

There's a heavy pause. Kass fills the glass with ice cubes. Clink. Clink.

“How, um,” he hears Dib start, haltingly, “How are you doing?”

"I'm fine,” Kass says, his voice upturning into sweet saccharine sarcasm. “I'm just dandy, not being in your presence 24/7 does wonders for my complexion."

A glance up confirms the expected scowl, which he feels no need to respond to. His own expression, carefully controlled, is neutral.

No matter Dib's feelings towards him, be they disinterest, disgust, or suspicion―that distinct mutual feeling of dislike that had manifested early between them is not going anywhere any time soon.

Kass smiles, suddenly, a wide and rather cold smile. He smiles like a wolf looking at a little girl in a bright red hood would smile.

“But here's a fun fact for you to ruminate on, dear old Dib. Let's say, for sake of argument, I wasn't doing as spectacular as I am doing. It, fascinatingly enough, would be entirely none of your business. Isn't that interesting?"

His smile remains, though he looks away from the boy hovering near him to pour a fresh serving of lemonade into the glass.

“I--”

"Here are the facts,” Kass says, holding a finger up, “I'm not your responsibility anymore, Dibromoethane. Your opinion on my status is moot and unnecessary. Lemonade?"

Dib's eyes flick between Kass and the glass in his hand. His expression is twisted when he says, hesitant, “Uh. Sure?”

"Tough tits,” the man replies, walking away, “Serve yourself. Keep your nose out of my roommate's hair about my status."

When Kass returns to the living room, May is pacing along the length of the couch. Her hands are full of used napkins, which she nearly seems to be wringing, crumbling them into tight balls. She barely looks up at him when he approaches, but her pacing stops when he enters her personal space.

“It's hot enough out without you working up your feathers, birdy. Drink.”

He offers the lemonade, but the bird shakes her head. “No, no, I have to finish cleaning. It's gotta get done.”

Kass tsks lightly. “It'll still be there when you've calmed down,” he starts, his mouth on the next syllable before it gets stuck in his throat at expression of absolute rage that paints May's face.

“That's the problem! It needs to get done or it'll just stay a mess, regardless of whether or not I'm angry! Jesus Christ, am I actually saying words out loud? I'm actually audibly speaking, right? I'm not just making random noises with my mouth like some handicapped old person?”

Holy shit―she's seriously upset. May's eyes are lit up, molten gold. Kass takes a step back; she notices, and deflates nearly immediately. She presses her hands to her face to stifle a noise that sounds suspiciously like a scream.

“You―he―mmmmgh how many times, how many fucking times do I have to say something for people to hear me? Fuck me, why the fuck don't people listen when I talk?”

Her hands have buried into her pulled back hair, the pigtails coming loose and the dirty napkins still balled up in her fist. Carefully, as though defusing a bomb or trying not to startle a lion, Kass sets the glass down onto the coffee table and extracts her fingers from her hair. He uncurls them, one by one.

“You're letting this get to you far more than you need to, you need to take a breath.”

“Fuck you, don't tell me what to do. I'm an angry bitch and you shouldn't touch me.”

“Look, princess, don't get snappy at me, I was well-behaved today,” Kass says sharply, unfurling the fist with the napkins and taking them from her. “Rudeness is unbecoming of royalty.”

“Fuck,” she says again, and deflates once more. “I'm sorry, Christ, you shouldn't―you don't need to deal with this shit, but I'm just so sick to death of it.”

She stares at her hand, curling and uncurling the fist, her mouth a thin sharp line.

“Everyone's always fucking acting like they're waiting for the other damn shoe to drop. Like―Like, I'm fucking naive to how awful you can be, have been. And when I finally realize, oh no, he's just the worst, I'll be crushed!”

May looks up at Kass, brows furrowed and jaw taut. “I'm not a fucking baby! I don't need people to take care of me!”

“Keep your voice down,” he hisses, to no avail. She's nearly shouting.

“Like I don't fucking know most of the awful shit you pulled? Like I don't know about when you dislocated Dib's shoulder, or lied to him for months, or sold the kids out to the Foundation, or the thing with O'Malley? Or any of the other terrible things you've done? I fucking know, Kass! These aren't secrets, unfortunately!”

She surprises him―she laughs, bubbling with anger. “But they're not my grudges to hold! Most of this shit is ancient fucking history, and I wasn't there! I have no right to be pissy at you for any of it! And somehow, some-fucking-how, because I don't treat you like roadkill, it means I don't know you're a jerk.”

Here, May's pitch rises into the dramatics, into mockery. Her hands press to her cheeks to add to the theatrics, eyes wide and childlike. “Nooooo, I need to be protected! I need to be warned about the Big, Bad, Kaaaaaass. Fuuuuuck.” This last word is her normal pitch, pouring with exasperation. She presses her fingers into her eyes, groaning.

“You're the fucking same, you know that?” she concludes. “You and him and so many stupid humans―you think you need to teach the softhearted that the world is so much worse than they act like it is. I hate it so much.”

And May is softhearted, that much is true. Kass has lived in this house with her for maybe half a year now, and he knows this much. She is, above all things, kind and optimistic, while simultaneously sarcastic and smug and a small jokester.

Her interactions with him have forced Kass to try to come to terms with the idea that being soft is not nearly the same thing as being weak.

May is quiet for a long, long minute. Kass listens to her inhale deeply, and exhale slowly. He lifts his hand and places it on the crown of her head―it's the closest he can get to a conciliatory gesture. It works―the tension in her shoulders drops, and she inhales another shuddery breath.

“Nn. Fuck. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped so hard. It―it's not okay, and it's not your fault. None of this is your fault,” May adds, pulling her hands from her face, “You were just.... there to take the brunt of it. I'm sorry.”

While mostly caught off guard, Kass can't exactly say his feelings are hurt. Certainly, he doesn't like being assaulted with the fact that most of his dirty laundry has been hung out for curious eyes, and her outburst is certainly a new side to her that's set him on edge, but she's not exactly the most threatening form.

He supposes he's a bit ruffled by the idea that he and Dib have anything in common. Oh, certainly, he'd compared the pair of them before. He'd believed (and he still does to some level, what with being a cynic) Dib would realize how hard the real world was, and would become cold like Kass had to survive it. He'd believed there was no other real way to deal with the harshness―this isn't a kid's show, after all.

But the idea that Dib would do anything Kass might do? The idea he would actually buy into Kass's mindset about the world? Well, that is just about unthinkable, these days, especially with the company he keeps.

They're nothing alike, he tells himself. She's just angry.

“I think I'll survive the sudden shock, tweety bird,” Kass finally says, waving off the apology. Again, he tries to offer the glass, and May accepts it now, pressing the cool condensing side to her cheek. She turns, her brows pinching upward. Already she's got that guilty look he's grown familiar with―she makes it almost immediately after she snaps at him.

“I should go talk to him,” she says, weakly. “I just stormed out in a huff.”

“Give it another minute,” Kass replies, patting her upper arm. “He deserves to feel like shit for a bit longer, don't you think?”

May chuffs, looking up at him. She very nearly smiles, and she looks exhausted. The host has had a long day.

“I'm, um,” she starts, “I'm sorry about this. Again. Um. Was―Was everything okay on your end? I know this isn't really... your cup of tea.”

“I've been to worse.” His mouth is a crooked line, close enough for her to recognize as a smile. “I don't really think I'll ever be at ease in the company of a bunch of monsters, unfortunately.”

She nods, biting her lip. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I forget, sometimes, that you can't really.... turn that off.”

Another inhale, and exhale. Kass pulls his hand back, sticking them both into his pockets. “I'm going to hole up for a bit―I'll come back out before the fireworks. Will you, er, will you be able to manage until then?”

“Yeah,” May says weakly. “Cleanup's almost done. I think I need some alone time, too.”

“Right. I'll see you in a bit.”

“Kass?”

Her smile is weak, a little pained.

“Thank you.”

“...yeah.”

Kass returns to his room. He watches the street from his window, leaving it open to smoke. After a few minutes, he can see the signature lightning bolt as the miniature form of Dib exits the house through the front door, his trench coat blowing back behind him.

Dib turns back to the house and looks up. He squints at Kass's window. Kass closes the blinds.

At every turn, May has defended him. She has repeatedly kept Simon, and Dib, from sticking their noses too deeply into his business. She has gone on the record to say she enjoys his company.

Hell, she got mad at her golden boy over Kass. It's no secret how much May adores Dib, doting on him like a mom friend, and she put that aside to defend Kass's privacy―from the sound of it, multiple times.

He doesn't understand it. She certainly could do better in the way of friends―the girl is a friendly person who manages to get along with most people. Christ, more than that, she deserves better than a drunk, depressed, cynical ex-agent who can count the number of kind deeds he's ever done on his fingers, and still have some to spare.

Christ. She's so painfully loyal.

It's sinking in, more and more. Kass can be... safe, here. He's not convinced that physically he's in the clear, the Foundation looms over him still. Yet the other factors―the itching paranoia, the watchful eyes. The disgust, and the insults. The adventures. He is safe from them. They are things he can choose to stay away from. He's not forced into them by being adjacent to them.

Safe. It's a word that doesn't really fit right in his mouth. He wonders if he'll ever adjust to it.

The shadows are lengthening when Kass creeps out his bedroom. Purple twilight fills the sky, the sun already nearly below the horizon. May is on the roof, staring hard in its direction, drawing with what little light is left.

"That's going to fuck up your eyes, you know."

"They'll just fix themselves," she shoots back, not bothering to look back at him as he approaches. "I wanted to get the cityscape."

Kass sits next to her, his feet hanging over the ledge. She shows him the sketchbook, the crosshatched silhouette of the distant buildings. It's not half bad.

"You patch things up with Constant Vigilance over there?"

"I think so. I actually think I scared him a little bit? He's never really seen me get mad, at him or anybody. I think he's surprised it was at him first."

Kass sniggers. “The little prick had it coming."

"Hush,” she says, with no force behind it.

"I have the right to be vindictive, he was talking smack about yours truly."

"Talking..... smack."

"Technically,” he says, grinning, “the phrase was accurately used."

There is a pause, and then a weary sigh. "Never say that again. Please."

Quiet fills the cool evening air. The sky begins to light up, like artificial stars of a thousand colors. After a little time, the sketchbook is set aside.

"This is a stupid holiday,” Kass says. Just to state the obvious.

"Yeah, I know. But the fireworks are nice."

"Did you bring at least bring gunpowder poppers?”

"No? I know your track record with fire, sir."

"You're no fun."

On the other side of the street, and the street behind them, the air is loud, filled with little bangs and pops and children's screams.

“I'm sorry about what Dib said. I―I'm not going to invade your privacy, that's not fair to you.”

“Don't apologize, birdy. It's his shit to get over, not your problem.”

“But―it's not fair. I can't make him stop. I've tried.”

“I don't expect you to get him to stop. The day the kiddiewink stops squinting at me like I'm going to suddenly spawn cockroaches from every orifice, I'll know he's lost his mind.”

May bites her lip to hide her smile. “You're not mad?”

“Woe is me,” Kass responds flatly. “Dib doesn't trust me and he thinks I'm a handful. I'll never recover from the shame.”

“You are a handful,” she snickers. “Pfft. You're wonderful.”

It always catches him a little off guard when she says that. Even when she insults him, it's with the same cadence of quietly pleased. It's nice.

The air's not very quiet, really. In the distance, there are police sirens. There's the small popping noises, and the distant booms of the fireworks. But they are quiet, watching the world from what seems like many miles away. Miles from the chaos. It is calm, here.

Up until the moment that the backyard of 1, Tesla Drive, is filled with an explosion to rival the fireworks, filling the much closer area with noise and light, and quite possibly fire. In the noise, a familiar wild cackle is heard, loud and maniacal.

The pair on the roof next door have curled away from the sudden heat. They blink at the house, and then each other, as bits of ash and still-burning paper drift through the air. May begins to giggle nervously.

“Let's, uh, let's go back inside."

"Let's."

#birdy blogging #may writes #GOD is this a WALL

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nhlhoser · 7 years

Text

On The Rocks- 22

Part 21 Masterlist

Word count: 2670

probably swearing

It was about 5 pm when our stomachs decided it was time for food seeing as we've only had espresso and a hissy fit, we were quite hungry. About 3 unsuccessful suggestions of where to go and some feelings hurt on the way, I wordlessly rose of my bed got changed in my closet into actual underwear, my softest gray leggings and old baggy quarter zipper burgundy sweater. My leggings barely touch my ankle because of the length of my legs.

"We are going out," I announced re-enter my room to the lazy looking teen fiddling with my TV remote. He eyes my outfit for a clue of where we are going, me clearly looking just as lazy before just this time my own clothing doesn't give him much of a clue where.

"and where are we going?" Auston humored with an amused smirk on his face.

"Well, first I am gonna see what I have in the freezer and I think I should have gnocchi or lasagna prepped. Then you and I are going shopping," I smiled brightly gaining Auston's attention at shopping but his posture is doubtful in my intentions.

"Two things, where are we going shopping? and Nonna Gnocchi?" Auston's tone changes from scared to excited to hopeful all in one sentence as he slowly gets up from my bed, turning off the TV. I remember Auston being chirped for his love of shopping that has spanned way before he was making the big bucks that he is now, but this shopping won't be to his standards.

"Grocery shopping 'cause I saw your fridge," Smirking as Auston groans falling back onto my bed with a pout on his lips and a blush on his cheeks. "Come on Auston. Didn't you tell us that your Mum and dad are coming in this week or are already here?" I prodded already knowing that his parents are indeed in town because every time they are, Auston goes socially MIA and he hasn't been hanging around with Mitch or Morgan as often.

"Yeah, they're already in town but staying in a hotel. Claiming that 'I need my space for this important time of the season'," Auston drops his voice an octave mimicking what his dad is supposed to sound like probably. "So, I have been taking them to restaurants around the city," He sat up with a shrug.

"Okay but Auston was still going to grocery shopping because this is an important time of the season," I whined grabbing his arm half ass pulling him but he doesn't budge. "Okay, I'm not gonna talk about hockey anymore but you still need food," I pulled more, he smirks at the failed attempts to move him, thinking that I can't lift him.

"How much do you weight?" I asked pulling away from my plans being determined by his next answer as I assess him.

I think I can lift him.

"220, why?" He frowns as I smirked well looks like this gonna be a PR.

I lift 200 pounds in the gym what's another 20? Bracing my legs comfortably, bending my knees I wrap my arms under his and tugging him swiftly off the bed with minor difficulty lifting dead weight. He stumbled before gaining his balance now standing in front of me with a shocked face.

"Great, come on," I stepped abound him about to walk out the door.

"Well, it's rude to ask a lady's weight," I was lifted into the air and flung back on my bed, landing on my back staring wide-eyed at Auston who's smirking.

"Come on," He dragged out as if it was my fault we are still in my room instead of downstairs. Rolling my eyes I huff dramatically taking my time getting off the bed, hurrying past Auston bumping his shoulder as I pass.

"Where's Steph and Mitch?" I wondered aloud confused by the lack of noise in the apartment coming down the stairs into the living room seeing no one either.

"Mitch's parents are treating him to dinner for getting into the playoff," Auston following behind me tossing his body onto the couch with a groan. "Mmm, You also gotta fix ma back," He stretched like a cat before looking for the remote.

"Yeah later," I waved him off going into my freezer looking for food. Pulling out the Gnocchi as the lasagna is way too big for only two people eating it. Switching the stove on, I fill a pot with water setting it on the lit stove to boil. Ignoring the sound of the TV get into my cooking zone, chopping some onion and basil for the red sauce.

I was so in the zone that I didn't notice Auston move from his spot on the couch to on a stool to watch me work around the kitchen. I had just put the pasta into the water and was about to ask Auston to grab the sauce for me when I noticed the vacant couch, his laugh startling me from being right beside me. My hand instantly covered my chest where my heart pounds, I stare wide-eyed as he laughs.

"Jesus, Wear a bell or something," I breathe still shaken up. Auston just shakes his head at me as he laughs some more at my expense but slowly settles for a cheeky grin when I just stare at him.

"anyways, Can you grab a jar of sauce from the laundry room? thanks," It was more of a statement than a question but he gets up and gets it for me anyways. He reminds me of me when I was really young cooking with my Nonna, easily fascinated by anything in the kitchen. His posture is lax as he lazily bends down at the waist to grab the jar, prompting me to look away when I realize I was watching his butt the entire way.

Opting to find my skillet to hide my reddening cheeks, I turn on the spot before he even is vertical. Bending myself because genuinely I don't remember where I put it last, sorting through the various metal pots and pans until I find the cast iron skillet at the very back shouting in victory.

Ignoring the man watching me, I get back into cooking. Placing the skillet on the burner as I wait for it to heat I strain the cooked pasta and blanching it in cold water. Once the skillet was radiating heat I drizzled some olive oil let it bubble a bit before scraping in the onion and basil. Turning away from the stove for the jar this time not spooked by Auston's presence. Grabbing the mason jar sitting in front of him, its already opened. He smiles a contagious smile that makes him look a lot younger despite the growing facial hair.

"Grazie," I laid the accent on thick with a wink, earning a brighter smile and chuckle.

Finishing up the food, Auston works around me to set the table and getting water bottles. I set the steaming bowl of food between us in the center of the table. The scent is mouth water and my stomach ached for it. Wasting no time in dishing out the portions and digging, the only sounds utensils hitting the plates, chewing and moaning.

"My Nona's recipe for the sauce but the pasta is a small Italian place in Markham, definitely not as good as my Nona's," My tone is sentimental as Auston hums his pleasure still stuffing his face. Occasionally taking a breath or a sip of water.

"It's hard to believe it get's, better than this because I have to about 225 now," His words muffled by the food still in his yap.

"Probably helps that its like 6 pm and it's our first meal," I noted finishing off my plate, glancing at the dish debating if I want more or my taste buds want more. Instead of committing to another portion, I steal forkfuls straight from the bowl between us.

"Mmm, I found a solution for my lack of fresh food," Auston gleamed with a devilish smirk pausing for another mouthful of pasta. "You can just come cook for me and then I don't have to order the meal preps anymore," His suggestion is a joke but there is some hope in his eyes as he waits for me to react.

"Sure," I forked another mound of food into my mouth, Auston sat across from me shocked by my ease.

"Wait, actually?" He smiled but was on guard.

"Yeah but I have a price," I added ominously purposely to spook him, which it did because he paused mid-bite to watch me waiting for me to say what the price is.

"Don't hide injuries or I swear to a high power I'll let you starve," I pointed my fork at him for dramatic effect as he slowly nods eyes wide.

"That simple?"

"Can be if you want it to be," I riddle off picking up my plate and the now empty bowl between us and working on cleaning up the kitchen. Auston comes in silently rinsing his plate and putting it into the dishwasher as I handle the pots and skillet, the cast-iron needing different treatment than the other metal pots.

"Deal?" I quirked once everything was cleaned up, turning to Auston my hand outstretched for a shake.

"Deal," shaking on it.

Shopping with Auston is a pleasant experience, he follows my lead majority of the time but will veer off if something catches his eye and returns putting it in the cart. He would pout lightly if it was something unhealthily as if he thought I would scold him for it but I'd shrug and continue pushing the cart down the isles occupationally sneaking things I like into the cart.

"Steak or chicken?" Auston held up the different meats, recipes for both came into the forefront of my mind instantly.

"Both," Auston shrugged carefully placing the meats into the last empty place at the bottom. Continued down more isles filling the cart more, coming to the baking products Auston just by-passes it but I venture down, grabbing the stable; flour, baking soda/powder and bulk of salt. I also grab ingredients for desserts; vanilla, cocoa powder, and chocolate chips.

"Amelia?" I can hear Auston's voice call from a couple aisles over clearly just realizing I wasn't behind him anymore. I see him before he sees me, he's peering into isles. I can't see his eyes from the black hat covering his eyes but I can see the frown on his usually emotionless face.

"Aus," clumsily spinning to my voice Auston relaxes he glares as I approach with the cart.

"where did you go?" He lets up as he looks for the added items in the cart stops and lifts the chocolate chips with a grin. "Okay, I approve as long as these eventually turn into cookies," He tosses the large bag of chips into the cart once again.

"I think we covered everything to last you for the next couple of weeks," I noted as the cart is full to the brim of fresh produce and meats with of course some junk food. Mentally cataloging what's in the cart to make sure we got everything, a quiet voice interrupted my thoughts as a small boy approached with a smile wearing a Leafs shirt and hat covering his blonde locks.

"Are you Auston Matthews?" He whispered scared that he might not be Auston. My heart melted instantly, having a soft spot cutie little kids.

"Yes, I am! What's your name, buddy?" Auston knelt down being way too tall for the beaming boy, he smiles soft as the boy gasps and says his name is 'Spencer'. They became to talk about hockey and the little man looked like he his face was gonna split from smiling so much.

"Spencer?!" An older lady with matching blonde hair but brown eyes, unlike Spencer's bright blues. I wave her over pointing to the boy who's over the moon and safe.

"Spencer, You can't run off like that," his mother scolded out of breathing, bending down to pull her son into an embrace.

"I know ma, but the look is Auston Matthews," he beamed like that was suppose to make up for the fact for giving her a heart attack.

"Who?" The lady not knowing who Auston was but the boy was quick to roll his eyes at his mother confused face.

"He's only the best hockey player, ma" he drew out dully. His mom shook her head at him with a laugh.

"Do you want a photo?" Auston offered standing up to his full height again. Spencer instantly shift his hate and shirt making sure they look good, Auston pulls the boy up into arms resting him on his hip.

The mom takes mutinous shots as per Spencer's request. Auston continues a quiet conversation with the boy until the boy whispered something into Auston's ear prompting him to look over to me with a warm smile before putting him down, signing his shirt and hat.

"That was the cutest thing ever," I gushed as we got to the car as There wasn't really a time a gush in the store as Spencer was near until we got out of the building and to the car where we stand now loading in the trunk carefully.

"One of my favorite parts of my job are kids like Spencer, maybe some more than others given the situation but it warms the heart and it motivating," He was more relaxed now than before as he shuts the trunk.

"What did he whisper to you?" I recall the boy's red cheeks and Austons smile.

"Secret can't tell you," he teased getting into the car smirking as rolls my eyes at him, following suit.

This car ride is a lot more pleasant than the ride to my place before, the memory of Austons anger leaves unpleasant feeling sitting on my chest the whole way up to Auston apartment arms loaded with bags. He goes back down to get the rest that we couldn't manage.

Slipping out onto the balcony as I wait for Auston to return, the fresh air is crisp on my overheated face from too much thinking. Setting myself onto the same couch from the morning tucking my feet under me, I took in the view of Toronto's night lights but this mornings view puts this to shame.

Checking my phone its 8 pm.

Sighing the feeling doesn't let up and only gets worse when Auston returns, putting things away before coming out and sitting beside me saying nothing but he has to be able to sense the tension.

"I'm so sorry for making you feel like I don't trust you, Auston." I blurted out relieving the knot in my chest. "I have a bad habit of sabotaging myself,"

"I'm sorry for being an ass about it, I went the wrong way about it trumping my feelings over yours, you clearly have your reason and I should accept that," he pulled me into his side.

"I've shared more with you in the past 24 hours than I ever did with my old therapist," Auston chuckles but doesn't comment thankfully, just sitting with me.

"I should probably get home soon," I started a bit later when the temperature was too low for me.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Auston said sporadically, ignoring my comment on leaving.

"Nothing that I can think of," I racked my brain for anything.

"Then stay,"

"Sure, but can we go in? I'm cold,"

Letting someone in is seeming easier as the day goes by and Auston is only making it easier.

It scares me.

But it doesn't scare me how easy it is to eat junk food well watching dumb comedy's laughing our asses off on his couch, or how easy it was to fall asleep again in his arms for the third or fourth time since I met him.

But who’s counting anyways?

#auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #on the rocks

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