#the pizzas shouldn’t be so wildly different you can tell who made what!!!

[sealab420]

please god let me be an opener again i’m sooooo so good at it & no closers will ever have to come in to an empty rack ever again

[bqstqnbruin]

Forget About Us

Hello this is my first fic in like almost 6 months inspired by Forget About Us by Perrie Edwards

Thanks to my loves @nicohischier @assmanselke and @matthewtkachuk for yelling at me and letting me yell about this fic :)

Summary: Carson meets Jack, Jack falls for Carson, Carson does what she wants.

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, aNGST

Flashbacks are in italics. Also, I swear I read through this more than once but there might be errors unintentionally 😬

_________________________________________

Looking up into the stands, every game he plays in this city, he’s looking for her. He had been doing it for the past few years, always expecting to see her.

___________________________

“Can you stop pouting? We’re going to go out after the game,” Morgan begs. 

“I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to be here or anywhere else besides my bed.” 

Morgan rolls her eyes, sitting down in her seat. “Carson, you never go out.”

“Because I never want to go out,” she repeats. “I don’t have the money to go out.” 

“The tickets were free from my job and I told you I would pay for your drinks tonight.” 

“I don’t feel good,” Carson whines, knowing that it still wouldn’t be enough. 

“You’re fine.”

“I’m on my period.”

“So am I, what’s your point?”

“Your period doesn’t make you double over in pain for three days.”

“This is the fourth day of your period when you have told me you always feel fine. And your period has been regular since you were fifteen when you went on birth control.”

“I don’t like that you know that.”

“Then maybe don’t tell me the same thing like a broken record every month?” Carson continues to pout, even though her friend is right. “Do you really not want to be here? We can leave after the first period if you really aren’t having fun. But, you do keep telling me you’ve been wanting to come to a game since we moved here.”

“No,” she drags out. “I just had a bad day at work.”

“What happened?”

The teams start coming out onto the ice for warm-ups, everyone booing the away team. It made no sense. They weren’t even actual rivals. The other team, from Carson’s understanding, was so inconsequential that they shouldn’t even matter. But who was she to argue? 

“Anthony came by work today.” 

“Anthony? Like Anthony, your ex, Anthony?”

“No, Anthony Michael Hall from The Breakfast Club.”

“What did he say?”

She and Morgan had this same conversation every week. “He wants to get back together.”

“And you told him, ‘no,’ right?”

“I’m grumpy, not stupid.” 

Morgan sighs. Anthony kept showing up at the cafe Carson worked at between classes to ask for her back for the last month. He didn’t seem to care about the fact that they wanted wildly different things in their lives and that they weren’t going to work. Carson wanted to get her JD and leave New Jersey for good. She was tired of the debate over whether or not the central part of the state existed, if it was called Taylor Ham or Pork Roll, and which beach down the shore was the best. She wanted out as soon as possible, and Anthony wanted to stay here and settle down. He wanted someone who wanted to be at home with the kids, which Carson really didn’t want. The only way she could think about staying in New Jersey was if her partner wanted everything else she wanted. Whoever she ended up with had to be everything else to her. Anthony wasn’t it.

Morgan slowly forms a smile on her face, one that immediately makes Carson panic. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

“Who said I’m going to do something that you’ll hate?”

“Every past action that you’ve done without talking to me about it first says you’re going to do something I’m going to end up hating.” 

Morgan rolls her eyes, pulling out her wallet and handing Carson her debit card. “Here, you go get us beer and pizza so that way you don’t have to see what I’m about to do.” Carson sits there, Morgan shoving the card into her hands. “Go.” 

Both of them get up from their seats, Carson feeling a sense of panic as she watches her roommate go down to the ice while typing furiously on her phone. Carson tries to get back to their seats as fast as she can, worried about what antics she was about to be dragged into. She wanted to be home early that night so she could start studying for one of her exams that week. She did not have time to do whatever it was that Morgan was planning to do. 

“Here,” Morgan hands her something as she sits back down, Carson still trying to figure out how to balance two overflowing drinks and two slices of pizza larger than her own head. “I got this for you.”

“You got me a puck?” 

“Yes.”

“Ok?”

“You could say thank you.”

“Thank you for a piece of rubber that could probably break a bone if you get hit with it hard enough.”

“You’ll get the rest of what I got you tonight.”

“I swear to god,” Carson starts. “I’m not god, but I am close to a goddess.”

Carson groans, trying to focus on anything other than the terror that she was sure was about to come to her tonight. One of the players kept looking up at her, over his shoulder and seemingly ignoring his teammates. “What did you do?”

Morgan shrugs, nudging Carson’s shoulder as she waves at the player. “His name is Jack.”

“Just because I’m studying law, that doesn’t mean I’m above breaking at least one of them.” 

“Yes, it does.” 

The game starts, Carson’s eyes staying on the one player who had been watching her before. He gave her the vibes of someone who would end up naked and drunk in the hallway of her dorm in college, passed out and unsure of where his pants or keys were. 

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Morgan asks once the second period starts. 

Carson doesn’t make a noise, just nodding. He was the exact type of mistake she would make on a night out when she needed to forget about something. “Why does he keep staring?”

“Probably for the same reason you’re staring at him even if you do look like you want to kill him.” Carson turns to glare at Morgan. “I’m just saying, you might be hot, but you also look like you could commit a felony right now.” 

Carson sighs, waiting for the end of the game. She had no idea what was going on, but Morgan seemed to be into it at least. 

Carson lets out a yawn as the fans start to file out of the arena, Morgan dragging her along behind her. “Can we please just go home?” 

“No, I have a surprise for you.”

“Last time you had a surprise for me, I ended up needing three of my tires replaced.”

“And they gave you the fourth one for free, anyway,” Morgan grabs Carson’s hand, pulling her in the direction of some bar she wouldn’t remember the name of in the morning.

Carson knew that no matter how much she complained to Morgan, her friend would have something to counter every whine. They had lived together all four years of college before finally somehow scraping together enough money to each get their own places, despite the fact that they were still neighbors in their apartment building. Morgan, unfortunately, could get Carson to do anything she asked her to since she knew exactly how to make it so Carson wouldn’t say no. Most of the time, it involved physically dragging Carson places, like she was doing right now, but it always somehow worked.

“I’m paying for drinks,” Morgan tells her, dropping Carson’s hand as they two walk into the unreasonably crowded and slightly smelly bar. 

“Yeah, like that was in question,” Carson tells her. 

“You go sit down, I’ll find you.” 

Morgan leaves Carson alone. The scene around her made her want to run away, except for the fact that Morgan could track her location and would not be above chasing her down the street and dragging her back to the bar. Everyone seemed like they were five drinks in, Carson feeling anxious about being what seemed to be the only sober person around. 

“You ok?” a voice comes behind her, snapping her out of her potential spiral. She turns around, the guy from the game standing in front of her. 

“This isn’t real,” she mutters, shaking her head. How the hell did Morgan manage this? 

“What?” the guy asks, understandably confused.

“Sorry,” Carson says. “I mean, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” 

“I’m dehydrated.”

“Can I get you water, then?”

“No.”

“But, wouldn’t that help with the dehydration thing?”

Carson stares at him, dumbfounded. “I can get water myself,” she says, her tone a little harsher than she intended it to be. 

“I’m Jack,” he introduces himself, not getting the message at all. 

“That’s nice.” 

“Do you have a name?”

“No, that spot on my birth certificate has been blank for the last twenty four years. Everyone calls me whatever nickname they can think of. The current one is ‘Maverick.’” 

Jack opens his mouth to say something, Morgan appearing in between them before he can get a word in. “You actually came!”

“How could I pass up coming to meet someone as sweet as your friend here after the game?”

Carson barely knew him, but she already knew he would be a thorne in her side. 

“She’s already been mean to you, hasn’t she?” Morgan laughs, finally handing Carson the drink she got for her. 

“Hey,” Carson tries to protest, despite both of them ignoring her. 

“It’s fine. It’s kinda hot,” he smirks, staring at Carson. She didn’t care that she couldn’t help but stare back, her cheeks bright red at his words.

___________________________

She always sat in the same general area, a few rows from the top of the section right behind their bench. It was easy to find her. How could he not at least try?

___________________________

“Why are you anxious?” Morgan asks, plopping down on Carson’s couch.

“Who said I was anxious?”

“You’re scrunchie.”

“What could that possibly mean?”

“You’re scrunching your brow so much and frowning so hard that you have wifi symbols showing on your face. You only do that when you’re anxious.” 

“Please don’t say that to me ever again.” Carson lets out a sigh. She shouldn’t be anxious. She’s done things that were so much more difficult than this. She graduated with a 4.0 GPA in high school and college. She participated in every possible extra curricular that she could, and did so perfectly. She had her life scheduled down to the minute, when she would study, eat, have free time. She didn’t have time to be anxious. “Jack is supposed to be here any minute.”

Morgan lets out a squeal so high that Carson covers her ears. “You’re finally going on a date with him?” 

“If you want to call it that.” 

“Tell me everything,” Morgan says, plopping herself at Carson’s feet.

“No.” 

“Carson,” Morgan whines.

“Morgan,” Carson counters. “I don’t even know where we’re going. From what it sounds like, it’s not even going to be just us, it’s something with the team.”

“He’s taking you to meet the rest of his team?” she yells. 

“If you get that loud again, I’m throwing you out the window.”

“We both know your window doesn’t open far enough for me to get out of it, we’ve tried. Anyway,” Morgan continues, ignoring Carson’s annoyance, as usual. “That means something if he already wants you to know his teammates.”

“It means he already had plans with them when he asked me to go out with him and is dragging me somewhere I wasn’t otherwise invited.” 

“You could be positive sometimes, you know.”

“There’s no fun in that.” 

“Carse,” Morgan says, “He wouldn’t be inviting you if he didn’t like you. He wouldn’t have been texting you every waking moment that he could if he didn’t like you.” 

“It’s kind of annoying.” 

“That’s because you are a black hole personified and he’s the human equivalent of a dumb puppy.” 

Carson scrunches her face while she looks at her friend. “That’s mean.” 

“I’m trying to say that you two are different. And that’s ok. He’s more extroverted than you are. You’re still going to have fun because you’re going to be with him.” Carson looks at her, unsure. “If you’re not fine, I have your location and I will come join you guys, or come pick you up.” 

“Why am I nervous?”

“Probably because this is the first guy you’re going out with that doesn’t look like a dead baby bird.”

“Sometimes, inside thoughts can stay inside.” 

“My point,” Morgan starts, pulling Carson up to lead her out the door, “Is that he’s not your normal type and you don’t know what to do, so you’re panicking. But, again, you’ll be fine.”

Before Carson could say anything else, a knock came from the other side of her door. Morgan opens it, Jack standing there with his hands in his jeans pocket. 

“Wow,” Morgan verbalizes what Carson was thinking as she tries not to ogle at Jack. His jeans fit him way more perfectly than she would have liked, the t-shirt he had on showing off his arms in a way that made her feel like she was actually about to start drooling. For fucks sake.

“I think Carson is supposed to say that,” Jack jokes, leaning against the door frame. 

“Jesus Christ,” Carson groans, Morgan laughing as she pushes her way past Jack to head back to her place.

“Actually, they call me Jack.” 

“If you keep this up all night, I’m not leaving this apartment.”

“Is this your way of asking me to come in?”

“Absolutely not. We’re going now to meet your friends or you’re going by yourself.” 

Carson didn’t see Jack physically swoon at Carson as she walked past him, a stupid grin on his face as he watched her walk away from him. 

___________________________

Morgan was sitting next to her, the two of them seeing less of each other now that they didn’t live with or next to each other anymore. Carson was laughing at something Morgan was telling her, the smile on her face reaching her eyes. 

___________________________

“What are you doing right now?”

Carson groaned, knowing that any time Jack was asking her to do something lately, it was to pull her away from something she actually had to get done. “Studying.”

“When’s the test?”

“Next week.”

“Come out with me.”

“No.”

“I’m picking you up, I’m turning onto your street now.”

Jack hangs up before Carson can protest, her immediately texting Morgan to tell her she was being kidnapped.

‘You aren’t being kidnapped, you aren’t a kid.’

‘Kidnapping is anytime a person’s liberty is restrained by force and taken to another location.’

Before Morgan could text back, Jack was knocking at her door.

“I’m not going.” 

“Come on. Half an hour?” he begs her. Carson glares at him. “I’ll buy ice cream.”

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Says that three cheese pizza you downed the other night.” Carson continues to glare at him. “Please? I’m leaving tomorrow for a week and a half. It’ll be the last time I can bother you until then.”

Carson rolls her eyes, shutting her textbook with her highlighter keeping her page like a bookmark. “I’m studying in the car.” Jack smiles at her, holding his hand out for her. Carson smirks, grabbing another book from her table and putting it in his hands instead. 

Jack runs to follow her, his free hand on the small of her back, a smile on his face as she didn’t fight it. They get in his car, the windows down and the radio blasting as he peels away from where he was parked. 

Jack starts talking, Carson not listening in the slightest as she continues to read the book in her lap, just like she promised. 

“Wait, shut up,” Carson finally says, reaching over to turn up the music that was already loud. “I love this song.”

Jack laughs, glancing at her as he pulls up to a stop light. “Seriously? 1985 by Bowling for Soup?”

“My childhood best friend and I would listen to this song all the time growing up,” Carson explains,the smile on her face something Jack rarely got to see but loved every time. Jack’s smile mirrored hers as she started to sing along. He couldn’t help but laugh again as he listened to her. “What?”

“You are a horrible singer.”

“Yeah, because you would be better,” she snides, looking back at her book.

“Oh, of course I would be,” he says, starting to sing along with her. 

Carson cackles, a sound Jack had never heard from her before. “You are just as bad as I am.”

___________________________

He thought of her whenever that song played, his heart beating faster every time the opening guitar riff played through whatever speaker he was near. He never purposefully listened to that song. The song never played in any of the arenas they played in, except for Rogers Arena, like it was now.

___________________________

“What do you mean, ‘we’re going out tonight?’” Carson groans.

“You just finished finals, Quinn is in town, and we’re heading down the shore for the weekend.” 

“So I have to pack for a whole weekend?” 

“Unless you plan on wearing the same thing for four days, I suggest you do,” Jack says, Morgan laying on Carson’s bed laughing.

“I wish you were helpful,” Carson says, throwing a shirt at Morgan. “I’m not here to be helpful, I’m here to be comic relief.” 

“Then you should try being funny sometimes.” 

Jack laughs, his phone buzzing with a call. “I’ll be right back,” he says, getting up and answering it out of Carson’s room.

Once he was out of earshot, Morgan sits up, a giddy look on her face that caused a pit to form in Carson’s stomach. “You’re going away with him for a weekend!” Carson grimaces. “You aren’t excited?”

Carson sighs, getting up to close her door so Jack can’t hear them. “I think he wants more from whatever this is than I do.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan whispers.

“I can’t see a relationship with him.”

“Carse, he’s perfect.”

“He kind of is. Which is why I don’t see it. Anthony was perfect.”

“No, Anthony was the human equivalent of a stale ham sandwich who, if brains were money, wouldn’t have been able to buy a cup of coffee.”

“Go eat something.”

“What?”

“Your metaphors turn food related when you’re hungry.”

“My point is,” Morgan says, getting up. “Anthony is not Jack. Don’t ruin something before it starts because of something that happened with someone else.” “Hey,” Jack says, startling both of them. “Sorry, Luke was asking if we were on his way to pick him up. Are we ready to head out?” 

___________________________

He was so busy staring at her that he didn’t realize that Luke had skated up to his side.

“You didn’t know she’d be here?” Jack shakes his head. “Quinn doesn’t know you still love her?”

He shakes his head.

___________________________

Carson hated to admit it, but she was having a good time. She hated to admit that she needed to relax, especially after the intensity that she had when she was taking finals. They were sitting around a fire one of them had set up on the beach, the smell of smoke hitting Carson right in the face, the night air starting to chill around them. The guys were all laughing, their partners sitting in their laps as a few of them fell asleep. 

“Where’s Quinn?” Luke leans over Carson to ask Jack.

“You have his location,” Carson says before Jack can answer. The brothers keep anticipating Quinn with every new person that shows up, their usually prompt brother still MIA.

“I don’t know where my phone is.”

“What’s that in your left hand, bud?” 

“Right,” Luke draws out as Carson and Jack both laugh at him. “He’s supposed to be here any minute.” 

Luke gets up to head back to the house for what he claims is to use the bathroom. “He hasn’t been drunk in a while. He gets dumber as he drinks,” Jack tells her. 

Carson checks the can of beer he left behind. “Isn’t this his first drink of the night?”

“Yeah, why?”

“This can is still full.”

“He might just be dumb.” 

“Bold of you to call someone else dumb,” an unfamiliar voice comes from behind their circle around the fire. 

“I was just about to say that,” Carson says to the guy who must be Quinn, given how much he looks like his brother. 

“God, I never realized there’s two of you,” Jack says to Quinn, the color draining from his face.

“I don’t think you’d survive with two of me,” Carson says, Jack mumbling something about going to the house for a minute as he gets up, a smile on his face anyway.

“So, you must be Carson?” Quinn asks her.

“What was your first clue?” she tries to flirt, taking a sip of her drink while maintaining eye contact with him. She knew that Jack was cute, but there was something different about Quinn. She and Jack were opposites. She and Quinn were the same. 

___________________________

He still loved the way she looked in that old hoodie that she stole, the team logo faded and cut through, the number that was supposed to be the right side of her chest gone. He remembered when she stole that, the way her eyes lit up the first time he saw her in it as she told him she liked that she could wear it while he was traveling and he would still be with her. 

___________________________

“Who’s picking up Carson?” Ellen yells up the stairs. 

“I am,” Quinn and Jack both called at the same time, Jack’s mind running wild at the fact that his brother answered with him. Since meeting Quinn a few weeks ago, Carson had been mentioning him a lot more in their conversations. He shouldn’t be bothered by it. They never actually established that they were dating. Sure, they had hooked up, and sure, it was all Jack could think about since, but they were never dating.

He wasn’t Carson’s boyfriend. 

“We both are,” Jack amends, running down the stairs when he hears Quinn do the same. 

The brothers get in Quinn’s car, a smile across Quinn’s face while Jack can feel himself start to panic. “So, you’re excited to see Carson?”

“Yeah,” Quinn lets out. “I’ve missed Car.”

“Car?”

“That’s what I call her sometimes, yeah.”

“Doesn’t everyone else call her ‘Carse’ if they don’t call her Carson?”

Quinn laughs. “She said she likes when I call her ‘Car,’ instead.” Quinn keeps talking the rest of the way to the airport, both boys getting a text from her saying that she had just landed. 

Neither boy had seen Carson in weeks, but it seemed like she had been talking to Quinn much more than she had been talking to Quinn.

Quinn pulls up to the airport, both boys getting out to go find the girl they wanted to see. Jack felt like he was racing Quinn to get to her first, Quinn having no idea what was going on in Jack’s head.

They get inside, both of them looking for her. 

“Thanks for introducing us, by the way,” Quinn says, breaking the silence between them. 

“What?”

“Me and Carson. When you told me I’d love her, I didn’t realize how right you’d be.” 

Jack swallows, the pit in his stomach making him feel like he wanted to throw up. Quinn couldn’t love Carson the way Jack did.

The way Jack did?

Jack spots her first, shaking his head of the thought of loving her when he sees the Canucks sweatshirt with 43 on it hanging on her body. Jack looks at Quinn, Quinn’s favorite sweatshirt on the girl Jack wanted to be with. 

Carson spots them, a smile on her face as she runs towards them, her suitcase clumsily trailing behind her. She lets go of her suitcase, it rolling towards Jack as she runs into Quinn’s arms, acting as if Jack wasn’t there to begin with.

___________________________

Morgan says one last thing to Carson, heading back towards the concessions, probably to get them drinks. Knowing Carson, she was out with Morgan on the condition that she didn’t have to pay for drinks. Jack couldn’t help but laugh to himself, Luke giving him a strange look while he stood there, lost in thought. 

___________________________

Why would Carson want to be out right now?

She wouldn’t want to. 

So why was she out right now at a bar that was way too loud, smelled incredibly bad, and was so crowded she could barely move a muscle without hitting another person?

Morgan.

Well, and Jack.

But, mostly Morgan. 

“I hate you for this,” she yelled over whatever music was playing. 

“No, you don’t,” Morgan and Jack say at the same time, both of them laughing despite Carson sending both of them a death stare.

“You haven’t been out of your apartment in, like, two months,” Jack says as Morgan walks away to get another drink

“We went to get coffee together four times this week,” Carson rebuttes, her phone in her hand lighting up with a text from Quinn.

She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his name, not paying attention to the clear awkwardness that Jack felt when he saw his own brother’s name on her phone. She loved texting him, talking with him every free minute the two of them had. She was falling for him, and she was falling for him fast. 

Quinn loved that she was a lawyer, that she was passionate about helping people, he respected all of her decisions when it came to her uncertainty with her future. He made her laugh, he constantly made sure that she was ok and genuinely showed he cared about her.

He was everything he wanted in a guy, except that he was on the other side of the continent. 

“What’s Vancouver like?” she asks Jack, again having to yell over the noise.

Jack shrugs, “It seems a lot like New Jersey, honestly. I’m never there long enough to find out.” 

Could she see herself in Vancouver? She had looked into it, she just had to take another exam and be approved by their judicial system and she would be ok to practice law. 

Quinn had officially asked her to be his girlfriend when she went to visit the boys a few weeks ago. She wasn’t sure if Jack knew yet.

“I’m going to get another drink, do you want anything?” she asks, elbowing her way back to the bar when he says he’s fine.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” she hears from behind her once she orders her drink. She turns around, trying not to audibly groan.

“Anthony.”

“How are you Carse?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Do I need to give more?”

“Well, it’s a genuine question.”

“‘Fine’ is a genuine answer. What do you want, Anthony?”

“When can we get back together?”

Carson scoffs, the bartender handing her her drink that she was now tempted to throw in his face. “We’re not.”

“Come on, Carse,” he says, taking a step toward her, his hand trailing down her arm. “We had so much fun together. Why do we want to throw all that away?”

“I have a boyfriend, Anthony.”

“I don’t see him.”

Before Carson could answer, she feels Jack come up behind her, thankful that it was him and not some other stranger. “Babe, I told you, I was paying for drinks tonight.”

Carson looks up at him, turning toward him so Anthony couldn’t see her mouth a quick ‘thank you,’ to him. “I put it on your tab, don’t worry,” she turns back to Anthony, the smile on her face because of the stupid look on his face. “Anthony, meet my boyfriend, Jack.”

Anthony mumbles something, walking away before either of them could say anything else. 

“I owe you,” Carson says once Anthony is far enough away neither of them could see him.

“Well, drinks are on me tonight,” he says, earning a laugh from her. “Nice job, lying about the boyfriend thing. Think we’ll have to keep it up until we leave?”

Carson laughs again. “I wasn’t lying about having a boyfriend.”

“What?” Jack asks, Carson not noticing the panic on his face.

“Quinn asked me to be his girlfriend.” 

Before Jack can respond, Morgan runs over, squealing something about how their song was playing and that they just had to go dance. Carson quickly hands her drink to Jack, running off with her friend.

Jack downs the drink, ordering another. 

His brother got the girl.

___________________________

He sees Carson waving to someone down on the ice, his heart racing in the worst way because he knew it wasn’t to him. Jack followed her gaze to Quinn, who was waving back at her, a smile on his face while he was on the ice when he was notorious for looking like he was having an existential crisis all the time. He should hate the guy who got to love the girl he wanted to be with. But how could he hate his brother? 

___________________________

“You’re what?”

“I’m moving to Vancouver.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming, too.”

“No you aren’t.”

“I can’t live without you.”

“Morgan,” Carson whines, “You’re going to be fine.”

Morgan groans, rolling her eyes. “I’m being dramatic, let me mourn.” The girls laugh, Carson getting up to grab a drink. “So, you and Quinn are actually serious?”

“Yeah, I mean, we have to be if I’m willing to move across the continent and to another country.”

“Are you going to be able to practice law?”

Before Carson can answer, a knock at her doors follows with someone walking in.

“Are you a murderer?” Morgan yells to the stranger from Carson’s kitchen, prompting Carson to roll her eyes.

“Definitely,” Jack says, appearing in the doorway. “I got us dinner,” he says, holding up a bag. “What are we talking about?”

“If Carson can practice law or not.”

Jack laughs, setting down the food. “How did you manage to get disbarred already? You passed like three months ago.” 

“I shot a man in Reno,” Carson deadpans. “I didn’t get disbarred. I’m just,” she hesitates, knowing that telling the two people who were her best friends was going to be the hardest. “I’m moving.”

Jack’s attention snaps to Carson, a look of panic on his face. “Where?”

“She’s moving in with Quinn.”

“You’re moving to Vancouver?”

“Yeah. Quinn asked me last week to move out there with him, and I told him yes today.” 

Jack didn’t hear anything else while the three of them sat at Carson’s table and ate the food Jack brought. She would be able to practice law in Canada with a few more steps to get there, she would be living with Quinn.

She would be away from Jack. 

She would never be with Jack. 

___________________________

He could see the engagement ring on her finger from here, the sapphire in the middle catching the light in just the right way. His mother had their grandmother’s engagement ring, something much more simple, that had been intended for whichever boy wanted to give it to their future partner. Jack didn’t want to give it to anyone. He knew that their grandmother’s ring was picked for their grandmother. He wanted to give his person a ring meant for them. He wanted to give a ring he knew would suit her and would make her think of him whenever she looked at it. That’s why he and Quinn had helped the jeweler design it in the first place. It had to be made for her.

___________________________

Quinn had texted in the family group chat that the ring was ready and that he was picking it up from the jeweler that day after practice.

Everyone in the family congratulated him, his mom gushing about how excited she was to have a daughter, and how happy she was that it was Carson. His dad talked about how he was glad Quinn found someone who made him happy. Luke gave a thumbs up and texted in the group chat without their parents something stupid that Jack still hadn’t read yet.

Jack said nothing.

And he wasn’t sure anyone noticed. 

Quinn and Carson were going to be engaged soon.

Jack didn’t know who to talk to, his finger hovering over Carson’s contact. He shouldn’t call her. He could call Morgan. But he knew Morgan was busy doing something with her job. He didn’t want to bother her.

He pressed it, turning on the speaker and pushing his phone away from him before he could hang up. 

“Hello?” her name comes out of his speaker. He opens his mouth to say something, realizing he had no idea where to begin. “Jack, are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, dropped my phone,” he lied, lunging to grab it. “We haven’t talked in a while.”

Carson laughs, Jack’s insides jumping at the sound he hadn’t heard in a while. “Yeah, it has been a while.”

“How are things?” he asks, silently smacking his forehead at how stupid he sounded. He used to be able to talk to her with ease, having conversations that would go on for hours before either of them even found any silence between them. 

Now he could barely talk to her, the sound of her voice something he wanted to hear so badly, something he missed more than he could actually put into words, and he didn’t know what to say so that he could listen to her. 

“Things are actually really great,” she says. He could hear the smile on her face coming through the phone. “Quinn and I just work together, you know?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he repeats to himself, trying to hide the pain he felt hearing that. “Have you and Quinn talked about…” he starts, his voice trailing off, the words catching in his throat knowing that Quinn could technically ask her at any moment. 

“About what?”

“About you guys getting married?”

Carson stays quiet for a second, a smile on her face forming that broke Jack’s heart with every millimeter it grew. “Yeah, we have.”

“And?” 

Carson’s cheeks turned red. “He hasn’t told me outright, but I think he’s proposing soon.”

Jack’s heart fully shattered, a fake smile on his face. “That’s great.”

“He hasn’t talked to you about it at all?”

“We, uh,” he starts, running his hand through his hair as he laid down on his bed. “We haven’t been able to get each other on the phone lately.” The two of them sat in silence, one of the first times neither of them knew what to say to each other. Conversation used to be so easy between them. “Don’t do it.”

“What?” Carson asks, Jack unsure if she didn’t hear him or thought she didn’t.

“Don’t get engaged to him.” 

“Jack-”

“Carson, I still love you,” he blurts out, leaving Carson stunned. “Carson, please say something.” He wasn’t planning on telling her during this conversation. He wasn’t planning on telling her at all. 

“Still?”

“I think I started falling for you the first minute I saw you.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jack swallows, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “By the time I realized it, you were already falling in love with Quinn.”

“Jack.” 

“How could I tell you I love you when I was watching you fall in love with my older brother?”

“Jack.”

“How am I supposed to sit here knowing that you’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone who is perfect for you knowing that I was so close to being that person?” he says outloud.

“What do you want me to say?” she whispers.

“Tell me you won’t do it.”

Carson squeezes her eyes shut, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I can’t.” 

“Carson.”

“Jack, I love Quinn. And he loves me. It has to go both ways. I can’t tell him ‘no’ because you feel something for me that I never felt for you.” Jack says nothing, mostly because he doesn’t know what to say. “I have to go. Quinn will be home any minute.”

Carson hangs up, without saying another word, the front door opening as she whipped away her tears. 

“Hey,” Quinn says, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “You ready to head out?”

“Uh, just give me a minute. I was talking to Jack and got distracted.”

“Yeah? How is he? I haven’t heard from him in a while.” 

“He mentioned that,” Carson nods, getting up from her chair. “I’m gonna go grab my shoes.”

Quinn watches her walk away, checking his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed for the night. 

Phone, check.

Keys, check.

Wallet, check.

Engagement ring.

Check.

___________________________

Quinn skates over to his brothers, who were still standing next to each other. The crowd starts yelling, as they normally do when the three brothers are on the same ice at the same time. Luke and Jack greet Quinn, Jack trying to pretend like he wasn’t distracted. 

“Hey, wait,” Quinn says when the two are about to skate away. Luke hangs back slightly, pretending not to listen. “Carson wants to get together after the game, all four of us.”

Jack looks at Luke. “Uh, we have a flight out tonight.”

“Luke said you guys are leaving until the morning.” 

“It got changed,” Jack lies, making a mental note to turn off his location and hope he can convince Luke to do the same. “The weather’s supposed to be too bad to fly out in the morning.”

“Come on. It’s the last time we’ll be able to get together, just the four of us, before the wedding.” 

___________________________

“Ready to go?” Luke asks, suitcase in hand as their boarding group gets called. 

“No,” Jack mumbles. 

Luke rolls his eyes, yanking Jack by the arm to pull him towards the plane. “What’s your problem with Carson?” Jack fastens his seatbelt, pretending not to hear his younger brother. “Dude.”

“I don’t have a problem with Carson.”

“Then why do you shut down and act like a prick any time we go see them, or anytime her name is mentioned?” Jack doesn’t say anything. “No, we have 6 hours on this plane, so either you are going to use that time to tell me why you have a problem with our future sister-in-law or I’m going to tell Quinn that I’m worried you’re going to Richard Ramirez her in her sleep.” 

Jack looks at his brother with a look of horror. “What the fuck? I’m not the Night Stalker.” 

“Talk,” Luke pokes his brother’s side.

“I liked Carson before she met Quinn.”

“You’re acting like this because you had a crush on her?”

“I’m acting like this because I fell in love with her and she never even thought of me that way.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Every interaction you’ve ever had with her now makes sense.”

“What?”

“Every time you talk to her, you have that look on your face like she was telling you she killed your first born.” Jack looks at him horrified, again. “Yeah, like that.”

“Stop watching CSI.” 

“There’s so many seasons.”

Luke keeps talking about something while he doesn’t realize Jack is barely paying attention, interjecting with a generic confirmatory noise every once in a while until Jack finally pretends to go to sleep. 

His brother eventually falls asleep instead, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts without his brother’s voice in his ear. He hadn’t seen or talked to Carson since the night she called him before Quinn had proposed. She went from a stranger, to someone he could see in his life forever, back to a stranger. 

He couldn’t even talk to a girl anymore without thinking of Carson, how she compared to her, how her humor and deadpan delivery wasn’t the same as Carson’s, how she didn’t look like Carson or walk like Carson. He was in love with his brother’s fiance, on his way to their engagement party.

___________________________

Jack barely processed what happened during the game. He made the plays he had to, passed the puck when he needed to, but his mind was empty. 

After the game, Luke comes up to him once they're both dressed. “Ready for this?”

“No.”

“Let’s do it, then.” 

They wait for Quinn outside, the adrenaline coursing through him more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t sure he could face her, even after all this time.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, the voice he once loved now sending panic through him. 

“Hi.”

___________________________

“Alright, you’ve got to get it together,” Luke says as they get out of the car that brought them to the venue. Their parents were already inside, Carson and Quinn definitely inside. 

“I’ll be fine,” he lies, a gift in shaking hand as he opens the door with the other to let Luke go first. He took a deep breath, bracing himself to go in and face Carson for the first time since their phone call the night they ended up getting engaged. “I’ll be fine.”

The party was set up in a way that made exact sense for Carson, it was classy and elegant, while still having shades of Quinn’s chaos thrown in here and there. He didn’t know exactly why it made sense for them, but it did. 

Because they made sense.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, causing him to jump. Carson stands behind him, a short white dress fitting her perfectly in a way that made his heart race. He knew there was a reason to wear a black shirt, and it was to hide the sweat that he felt coming on just being around her. “How are you?”

“Good,” he says, holding out the gift. “This is from us.”

“Us?”

“Um,” he shakes his head, letting out a nervous laugh. “Me and Luke. You didn’t expect him to pick something out on his own, did you?’

“No, not at all.” 

They stand in silence, neither of them knowing what to do. “You look good,” he says, probably one of the first opinions he shared that actually had some semblance of truth to it.

“Thanks, you do, too. How are things?”

“Things are good,” he says, trying not to cringe at how awkward this whole thing felt. He shouldn't have come, but how was he going to say no to the girl he loved and his own brother? “I’m seeing someone, actually,” he hears himself say, surprised by the lie he didn’t know was coming.

“Really?” her eyes light up. “Jack, that’s great. Quinn didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s still new. I haven’t really said anything about it to Quinn yet. I don’t want to jinx it, you know?”

“I get it,” she nods, a smile still lighting up her face. “I’m so happy for you.”

She pulls him in for a hug, Jack keeping one of his hands in his pants pocket. He knew himself too well; if he hugged her too tight, he wouldn’t want to let go.

He hated how corny and stupid he felt. She is his older brother's fiance. He had to forget about her in that way. 

“Hey,” Quinn joins them, pulling Jack in for a hug. “Sorry to interrupt, but Car, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Go, go, I need to find my way to a drink anyway,” Jack waves them off.

Carson takes Quinn’s hand, turning to be led off somewhere by Quinn. She turns over her shoulder, smiling at Jack, as he watched the two of them walk off. She turns away, Jack staring up at the ceiling, not wanting to watch her walk away.

___________________________

The four of them get to a restaurant Quinn had taken his brothers to before, despite the fact that Jack couldn’t remember the name for the life of him. 

Jack sets his phone on the table, the rest of them doing the same.

As they order, Jack’s phone lights up with a text from Morgan: ‘When do you come home? I miss you.’

[fangirlwriting-stories]

A Kind Of Understanding

Summary: Remus' decision to babysit a kid for a couple nights to earn some extra cash ends up getting him in over his head when the kid tells him something the parents didn't mention.

In all fairness, Roman had told him he was probably getting in over his head.  Remus was the idiot who didn’t believe him.

He just needed money.  If he was actually going to be able to afford all the spray paints he wanted for his new art project by the roller rink, he was going to need a lot more money than he had.  Curse him and his ambitious ideas.

Remus considered himself lucky when he quickly found a family willing to pay 60 bucks a night to watch their eight year old kid.  Roman took one look at the offer and said he was definitely going to be dealing with a brat.

“Why else would they pay so much?” he asked, giving the flyer a suspicious look.

“So?  I need, like, two hundred bucks to get the kind and amount of spray paint I need.  I’d only have to watch the bratty kid for four nights and I’d be good.  I can set her up in front of a movie she really likes, make her some mac and cheese for dinner, and it’ll be all good.”

“I think you’re underestimating kids, Re.  You have met Patton and Logan, right?”

Patton and Logan were Virgil’s little brothers, and Remus honestly wasn’t sure why he was bringing them up, because they were both absolute sweethearts.  Sure, Logan could sometimes get a chip on his shoulder about being too old for a babysitter, and Patton could be a bit of a crybaby sometimes, but otherwise Remus never minded when Virgil brought his friends along for a hangout.  Especially when Patton teased Roman about liking Virgil, and Remus got to watch him go bright red with embarrassment.

Well okay, granted, Logan had been much more insufferable when he was Patton’s age.  But Patton was still a sweetheart.

“I’m telling you, I’ve got this,” he said, waving Roman’s concerns off.  “It’s just one little girl, anyway.  How hard could it be?”

This was the attitude Remus took with him when going to the Ekans house the following night.  The parents sent him the address, and the mom was waiting outside.

“Hi, Mrs. Ekans,” Remus said, putting on his ‘I am talking to an adult that I respect’ voice.  “I’m Remus.”

“Yes, hello dear,” she said.  “I was so happy to get your call.  It can be rather hard to find a babysitter to deal with Janice, what with how she can get with all her silly fantasies.”

Remus tipped his head in confusion.  “Silly fantasies?”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it.  You don’t need to indulge her, dear, we’ve told her many times that no one who watches her will be doing so.  But anyway, here’s ten dollars for a tip, we ordered a pizza, the delivery man should be here any minute, so you won’t have to worry about dinner.”

“Thanks,” Remus said, taking the money and putting it in his pocket to grab when the delivery person showed up.

The door opened behind the two of them and a man came out, adjusting a tie.  Behind him, a girl in a sparkly pink dress stood in the doorway, who could only be Janice.

“Oh, good,” the man said when he noticed Remus.  “Janice, your babysitter’s here, be good for him, okay?”  He turned to Remus.  “Bedtime is at 8, pizza’s on the way, otherwise you should be good to go.”

“Thanks,” Remus said again, heading past him and into the house.  They both waved at Janice as they left, who notably did not wave back.

As soon as the car drove off, Remus shut the door and turned to face Janice.  “Well, sweetheart—” he started.

“First of all,” Janice snapped, sounding so furious that it took Remus aback.  He had barely even said anything yet.  “I have rules.”

Remus raised an eyebrow.  “Isn’t that kind of my job?”

“No!” Janice screamed, stamping her foot.  “You are here for me, that means I’m the boss!  First of all, don’t ever call me sweetheart.  And I am going into my room to change into my real clothes, and you aren’t going to stop me!”

Remus’ brow furrowed.  “What’s wrong with the clothes you have on now?” he asked.

“Dresses are for girls,” Janice snapped, voice filled with way more vitriol than Remus expected.  “I’m a boy.  And you are not going to take away the only chance I get to wear my real clothes!”  And, like that decided that, he turned and stormed away towards the back of the house and where his room no doubt was.

Remus looked after the kid, blinking for a second as he tried to process everything that had just happened.  So that’s what Mrs. Ekans meant by silly fantasies.

Well, fuck, he was way out of his depth with shit like this.

The kid came out of the hallway a couple minutes later wearing a t-shirt and shorts.  And while the t-shirt was still bright pink, he at least looked a little more comfortable than he had in a dress.

“Okay, J— kid,” Remus said.  “So let me see if I’ve got this right.  You say you’re a boy?”

“Yes,” the kid snapped.  “And you don’t get to say otherwise, you got it?”

“Hey, understood,” Remus said, holding his hands up.  “Can I just ask a question?”

The kid narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.  “What?”

“Do you want me to still use the name your parents gave me, or do you want me to call you something else?”

The kid seemed to grow even more suspicious at that question.  “Mom didn’t tell you not to indulge my silly fantasies?”

“Doesn’t seem to me like there’s anything silly about it,” Remus said with a shrug.  “I was just wondering if you had a different name picked out.”

The kid’s eyes widened slightly, though not enough to stop looking suspicious.  “You can do that?”

“Of course you can,” Remus said, taking a couple steps forward and kneeling down in front of the kid.  “I have a friend named Virgil who changed his name.  He used to be called Jacob, but he hated that name.  He thought it was boring.”

“He was right,” the kid said instantly.  Remus laughed.

The kid seemed to think for a minute.  “I don’t know,” he said finally.  “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Do you want me to use the name your parents gave me, then?”

“No,” the kid snapped instantly, looking angry again.

“Okay.  Got it.  For now, I’ll just call you kid.  How’s that?”

The kid seemed to consider that for a minute, then nodded.  “Okay.”

Remus smiled.  “Okay.  So your parents said that a pizza delivery person should be here soon.  Do you want to watch a movie while we eat?”

“No,” the kid snapped.  “Movies are stupid.”

Remus blinked.  “Okay.  What do you want to do while we eat?”

“I want to sit in silence and do nothing!” the kid snapped.

Remus blinked again.  “Uh, I’m not so sure that would be very fun.”

“You’re not fun anyway!” the kid screamed.

Remus was honestly a little offended.  How dare this child say he wasn’t fun?  He could be super fun!  Before he could reply to correct this wildly false statement, the doorbell rang.

Remus stood up and headed over to the door, and opened it to see, as expected, the pizza delivery person.

“Thanks,” Remus said, taking the pizza and pulling out the ten dollar bill Mrs. Ekans had left him.  He handed it to the delivery person, who thanked him and headed back towards the car parked out front.  Remus shut the door and carried the pizza over to the table, and the kid came over after him and grabbed one of the plates that had been left out on the counter.

“Give me two pieces,” he said, holding the plate out to Remus.

“Let’s start with one,” Remus said, taking the plate.

“No!” the kid snapped.  “I want two!”

“Kid, I’m gonna start you with one,” Remus said, taking a piece of pizza and putting it on the plate.

“No!” the kid snapped again.  “I want two pieces!  I’m hungry, are you trying to tell me I shouldn’t eat until I’m full?  That can have harmful consequences!”

Remus took a deep breath.  “I am going to start you with one.  If you want another piece after you finish that one, I will happily give you one.”

“I want two right now!” the kid screamed, stamping his foot.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut.  “Nope,” he said, handing the kid the plate.

The kid narrowed his eyes, and Remus had a second to wonder if eight year olds still threw temper tantrums, when instead the kid shot Remus a glare that could kill and stomped into the other room and sat down on the couch.

Remus took a piece of pizza and put it on the plate.  This was about as bad as it was going to get, right?

…

“Kid, you need to go to bed,” Remus said, leaning against the door frame, looking at the kid who was sitting resolutely and reading through a book.

“Why should I?  Bedtime is a social construct.”

“Oh my god,” Remus groaned, looking up at the ceiling.  This had been a recurring theme for most of the night.  The kid’s father was apparently a philosophy nerd, and the kid listened in on a lot of his conversations about the subject with his wife, and had turned that into a belief that all of society was a construct and he could do whatever he wanted.  He was brilliant for an eight year old.  And it was as annoying as all fuck.

“Look,” Remus said.  “If you go to bed now, next time I come, I’ll bring you a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” the kid asked, narrowing his eyes.  “How could any surprise you give me be worth it?”

“Well, if you don’t go to bed now, you’ll never know,” Remus pointed out.

The kid seemed to know exactly what Remus was doing with that, but he also finally put the book aside and laid his head down on his pillow.  Remus flicked off the lights and shut the door, and finally let out a breath.

He made his way back out to the living room, put the remaining pizza in the fridge, and then collapsed on the couch.

“Children are exhausting,” he said to no one.

By the time the kid’s parents got back Remus was ready to go home and sleep for a week and a half.  But that was a feeling that faded as soon as Mr. Ekans walked through the door and opened his mouth.

“How was she?” he asked, putting the car keys on a hook by the wall.  “She didn’t give you too much trouble, did she?”

Remus had to fight to keep from grinding his teeth.  “Fine,” he said, keeping his voice as pleasant as he could.  “The flyer said I should come back Saturday next, right?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Ekans said, pulling out her wallet and thumbing out the sixty dollars in cash.  She handed it over, and Remus took it.  “I’m glad things went well.  Janice has been known to drive away a few sitters in the past.”

I can’t imagine why.

Remus got out of the house as quickly as he could.  He had some thinking to do, and he wasn’t going to do it in front of a couple of transphobic pieces of shit.

…

By the time Saturday arrived Remus had a battle plan.  Roman had been amused when Remus had described the first night as “frustrating,” but had been surprised when Remus had been determined to go back.  Remus left out most of the details that weren’t his to share, though he imagined Roman must have figured something was up when he spent most of the week researching boy names and hairstyles.

When he got to the Ekans house next time, the kid looked surprised to see him, and Remus couldn’t say he blamed him.  He tried to smile and nod whenever possible, as hopefully it would get the kid’s parents out the door faster.  The second they left Remus took off the backpack he’d brought and moved over to sit on the couch.  “Hey, kid, c’mere.”

“No.  Why?”

“I’ve got something for ya.  I promised you a surprise if you went to bed, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but I turned the lamp on again as soon as you left the room.”

Remus sighed.  “Of course you did.  Come here anyway.”

The kid looked curious, and given that it was one of the few times he hadn’t been glaring at him, Remus would take it as a good sign.

“So I did some research these past couple days,” Remus said, starting with the notebook.  “And I found some names you might like.”

“Wait, what?” the kid sat on the couch and took the notebook from him.  “What do you mean you looked at names for me?”

“Well, you said you didn’t know what you wanted your name to be.  I don’t really want to call you ‘kid’ forever.  If you don’t like any of these we can keep looking, though.”

The kid turned and stared at him.  “But I was mean to you.”

“You’re the kid I’m babysitting,” Remus said, smirking at him.  “I think I can take it.  Besides, what does that have to do with your name?”

“Why are you being nice to me if I was mean to you?”

“Being nice and basic human decency are two different things.  You can be the snottiest kid in the world, that doesn’t mean I’m going to start treating you like a girl.”

The kid’s eyes widened.  “Really?”

“Really.  You say you’re a boy, I believe you, and I’ll treat you as such, okay?”

To Remus’ surprise, the kid’s eyes welled up with tears.

“Oh shit, don’t cry.  Hang on—”

The kid threw himself at Remus’ and buried his head in his side.  Remus awkwardly patted him on the back and waited until the kid stopped crying, after which he pulled back and wiped at his eyes, still sniffling.  “Mommy always says I shouldn’t make people indulge me,” he whispered.

“I’m not indulging anything,” Remus said.  “This is what you said you want, and it should be respected.  If you change your mind later, that’s fine too.  But even if you do, I’m not going to treat you in any way that makes you miserable in the meantime.”

The kid sniffed again and wiped at his eyes.  He looked like he didn’t know what to say, which was fair.

After a moment, he picked up the notebook and started looking at the names, sometimes pointing at one he didn’t know and asking Remus to read it.  He stopped at one on page three.

“You just wrote Janice,” he said.  “I thought you said I didn’t have to use that name.”

“J-a-n-u-s is a masculine spelling,” Remus said.  “I just figured if you liked the way your name sounded but didn’t like that it was associated with being a girl, that was an option.”

The kid looked at it for a while longer.  “You could use this one around my parents,” he said.

“Technically, yes,” Remus said.

The kid turned and looked at him.  “Where does Janus come from?”

“It’s the name of a Roman god,” Remus said.  “He’s the god of doors, gates, and beginnings.  He has two faces.”

The kid started to grin.  “I could be named after a god?”

“If that’s what you want.”

He started nodding.  “I like that.  I like that a lot.  And it could be like lying to my parents.  They’re forcing me to lie to everyone else, but this way I get to lie to them.”

Remus started to smile too.  “Yeah?  You think that’s the one?”

“Definitely.  And besides, if I don’t like later it I can change it again, right?”

“Of course you can.”

Janus beamed at him.  “Yeah.  That’s the one.”

“Awesome,” Remus said, leaning over and ruffling his hair.  “Now, onto the second manner of business.”

“There’s more?”

“Yep.” Remus reached into his bag and pulled out a hairbrush and ponytail holders.  “So I’m not going to cut your hair without your parent’s permission or I’d get fired.  But I have a couple ways I can deal with your hair as it is right now if you want to.”

Janus nodded quickly, and turned around so Remus could get to his hair more easily,  “So we could put it up in a bun so it’s out of your face, or I could move the curls further behind your head so it looks more like a style than just you having longer curly hair.”

“What would a style look like?” Janus asked.

“Alright, give me a sec,” Remus said.  He grabbed the bobby pins he’d borrowed from his mother and used them to tuck Janus’ curls further behind his head.  He turned Janus around after a moment and brushed some of the curls across his forehead so they looked more like bangs.

“Alright,” he said, sitting back.  “Here, check that out.”  He pulled out the mirror he brought with him, and handed it to Janus.

His eyes widened as he looked in it.  “Woah.  You did this with my hair?”

“Mm-hmm,” Remus said.  “You like it?”

Janus grinned at him again and nodded.  Then his gaze turned curious.  “Why are you doing all this?”

“I already told you—”

“No, I mean… Mommy says boys and girls can’t change who they are.  She says I’m a girl no matter what I do.”

“Bah,” Remus said, waving the concept away.  “Gender is a social construct.”

Janus snorted.

“You laugh, but it’s true.  Have you ever heard the term ‘transgender’ before?”

Janus shook his head.

“It’s a term people can use to describe themselves when their gender doesn’t match the one they were born as.  Plenty of people describe themselves that way.  I’m friends with a couple on the internet.”

Janus looked fascinated, and almost painfully hopeful.  “Not just me?”

“Definitely not just you.”

Janus sat back, seeming to take a minute to process that.  “Can you show me?” he asked, looking back up at Remus.

And so they spent most of the day on Remus’ phone looking at transgender people and stories and definitions.  Remus made sure to steer clear of any discourse or transphobia.  Janus had enough to deal with already without having to learn about that on a broad scale yet.

By the time Janus’ parents texted Remus saying they were on their way back, they’d been there for hours.

“Okay,” Remus said, setting the phone aside.  “I should probably take your hair down now.”

Janus sighed, even though he seemed to have expected that.  “Okay,” he mumbled.

“We can put it back up next time I come, okay?” Remus said.

Janus nodded.  “Yeah, we fucking better.”

Remus coughed in surprise.  “Wha— where did you learn that word?”

Janus grinned at him.  “You’ll never fucking know.”

Remus laughed despite himself.  Okay, so maybe this kid wasn’t so terrible.

…

Things went smoother for the last two times Remus had signed up to babysit him.  Janus had so obviously needed some kind of positive role model, because the second Remus reassured him that he believed him and would treat him as a boy, Janus got loads easier to handle.  At the end of the third time Remus babysat for him, Janus looking at him very seriously and told him that he was clearly one of those rare smart adults.

“Well, technically I’m a teenager,” Remus admitted.

Janus nodded.  “Oh.  That explains it.”

Remus blinked at him.  Well, this kid was definitely going to turn into even more of a nightmare as he got older.

Roman seemed more than a little surprised that Remus hit it off with the kid so well, and when Remus eventually mentioned it to Virgil, he got the same result.  But Remus would just shrug and say something generic along the lines of “We just clicked, I guess.”

He found himself actually looking forward to the last time he was supposed to babysit, which unfortunately came with a realization that this would be the last time he babysat for Janus.  The time passed much too quickly, and Remus, at the end of the night, was not looking forward to leaving.

So for once, an interaction from Janus’ parents brought a positive consequence.

“You just make Janice so happy,” Mrs. Ekans said.  “And that’s not really something that happens with her very often.”

I can’t imagine why.

“I know this wasn’t supposed to be a long term thing, but if you would be willing to become her regular babysitter, we’ll pay you eighty a night instead of sixty.”

Well, Remus probably would have agreed even without the pay raise, especially after he noticed Janus watching hopefully from the hallway, but the extra twenty a night didn’t hurt either.  In the end, after what was basically the opposite of a long and hard decision, Remus agreed, and was now going to spend his Saturdays (and many week nights) watching a kid that he was quickly growing to care for.

Janus plopped himself down on the couch next to Remus a second after he showed up next time, with his lip wobbling and sniffling in a way that immediately made Remus nervous.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Do you only like me because my parents pay you?” Janus asked.

“What?  Of course not, I love hanging out with you,” Remus said, relieved he was actually telling the truth.

Janus brightened immediately.  “Cool!  So if we’re actually friends does that mean you can take me out for ice cream?”

Remus blinked at him for a couple seconds, trying to figure out how in the hell he just got played by an eight year old.  Regardless, they ended up at an ice cream parlor that day.

There came times Virgil had to watch his little brothers too, and Virgil must have told them about Janus, because one day Virgil texted him asking if they could maybe set up a playdate with the little girl he babysat.  Remus winced, but said he’d bring it up next time he was there.

“Their names are Patton and Logan,” he said to Janus, who was looking up at him over the the drawing he was making.  He’d become insistent on drawing better than Remus ever since he’d shown him one of his pieces.  “They’re Virgil’s little brothers.  They want to meet you.”

Janus bit his lip.  “Do I have to pretend to be a girl around them?”

“Kid, that is entirely up to you,” Remus said.  “I haven’t told them yet because you haven’t given me permission.  I can tell you they won’t mind, if you’re worried about that.”

Janus gave that a moment of thought.  “Okay.  You can tell them I’m a boy.  If you’re really sure they won’t mind.”

“I’m sure.”

Janus nodded.  “Okay.  Can they not come here though?”

“I don’t think we picked a place to go yet.  But we could go to a park, or possibly Virgil's house.  We’d have to run it by everyone’s parents.”

“Ugh.  Well that’s not gonna work out then,” Janus said, turning back to his drawing.  “My parents never want me to do anything that makes me happy.”

Remus felt his heart crack at that.  He didn’t know how to explain to the kid the difference between his parents being transphobic and his parents never wanting him to be happy.  He supposed the end result was the same either way.  But Remus couldn’t imagine them having an issue with Janus meeting some other kids.  He was apparently pretty lonely.

“Give it a chance,” he said eventually.  “They could surprise you.”

Janus gave him a look of such doubt that Remus considered, not for the first time, murdering Janus’ parents and hiding their transphobic asses out in the shed.

Luckily, Remus was at least right in Janus’ parents wanting him to meet new kids.  And he was of course also right about none of his friends having a problem with Janus being trans, although they seemed sad for the kid when they learned what his parents were like.  Good.  Remus would have lost respect for them if they didn’t.

They ended up meeting over at Virgil’s house, which was good, because Remus had a sneaking suspicion Janus’ parents would not have approved of Patton, and his love for all things pink and/or sparkly.  They walked through the front door and saw Virgil and Roman sitting on the couch chatting as Logan was doing a puzzle nearby.  Patton was sitting next to him, coloring in a coloring book and wearing a bright pink sparkly dress similar to the one Remus had met Janus in.  Janus’ eyes got really big when he saw Patton, and he hid behind Remus’ leg.

“I thought you said Patton was a boy,” he whispered.

“He is,” Remus replied.  “Patton likes wearing pink sparkly dresses, but that doesn’t make him any less of a boy.”

Virgil glanced up and waved.  “Hey, Remus.  Guys, Remus and Janus are here.”

Patton and Logan both glanced up, and then Patton hopped up and ran across the room.  “Hi!” he said, sticking out his hand.  “I’m Patton!  Virgil says you’re eight just like me!”

Janus slowly stepped out from behind Remus’ leg and shook Patton’s hand.  “Hi,” he said.  “I’m Janus.  J-a-n-u-s.  It’s the boy spelling.  Because I’m a boy.”

Patton grinned at him.  “Yeah, Remus told us!  I think that’s really cool!  Do you want to come color with me?”

It was clear Janus didn’t know quite what to do with that, but he nodded anyway, and Patton took his hand and dragged him over to where he’d been coloring.  Remus noted Logan saying hi as he did so, and including a note about how he was ten and too old for a babysitter.  Remus walked over to sit on the couch next to Virgil and Roman.

“That went about like I’d expected,” he said, nodding at Patton.

Virgil snorted.  “Yeah, pretty much,” he agreed, leaning back and ending up partly against Roman.  Remus would have to tease him about how bright red his face got later.

Overall, the afternoon was a success.  Janus and Patton got along very well, and they made a deal that next time, Janus would bring a sparkly dress and trade it for some of Patton’s more boyish clothes.  Janus talked the whole drive home about how much he liked Patton.

“Even though he could be a little less bouncy,” Janus said.  “He’s kind of a lot.”

“I get that,” Remus said.  “Patton is a really excitable kid.  He’ll mellow out the longer you know him.”

Janus nodded.  “Good,” he said, and Remus laughed.

Just like Remus had expected, Janus’ parents were glad to see him happy from hanging out with other kids.  Which unfortunately also meant they likely had no idea what had actually been happening at the playdate.  It was definitely worth it, though.  Janus gave Remus a hug, a beaming smile, and said he would see him on Saturday, before running off to his room still smiling.

Remus texted Virgil that they would have to do so again sometime soon.

…

Remus arrived on time Saturday, but Mr. and Mrs. Ekans were already rushing out the door, barely having time to hand Remus money for dinner, and saying something about getting something to cheer Janus up before they ran out their car and drove off.

Remus blinked as he watched them drive off, before processing the fact that they’d said something about cheering Janus up.  He headed inside, looking around and hoping to find him.

“Janus?” he called, but no one responded.  He started looking around the living room and found no one, there wasn’t anyone in the kitchen, not even the cabinets, and Remus checked in all their usual hide and seek places, but didn’t find anything.

“Janus?” he called, sticking his head into his room.  There still wasn’t anyone obviously in there, but just as Remus was about to leave he heard sniffing that sounded like it was coming from under the bed.

He shut the door quietly behind him and pulled up the blankets, and there was Janus, curled into a ball.

“Kiddo?” he asked quietly.

“Adults are stupid,” Janus said.  “They don’t understand anything.”

“As a seventeen year old I wholeheartedly agree,” Remus said, trying to get a chuckle or a smile, but not succeeding.  “Are we talking about something specific?”

“They just don’t understand,” Janus said, tucking his head into his knees.  “No matter how many times I explain it to them they don’t get it.  I don’t want to be a girl, Remus.  I mean, am I just explaining it wrong?  If I explain it enough times they have to understand, right?”  He sniffed.  “I just have to explain it a few more times, right?”

“Oh, kiddo,” Remus murmured, reaching a hand under the bed.  Janus grabbed it and let Remus help him out before burying his head in his chest.

“I thought they were supposed to love me,” Janus whispered.  “Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?”

“They do love you,” Remus tried to reassure, because he’d seen some proof of that.  He’d seen the way they smiled when they saw Janus happy.  They’d thanked him so many times, saying they were unsure of how he did it.

“No.  They love J-a-n-i-c-e.  They love the little girl they think they have.  But that’s not who I am.”  Janus looked up at him, tears pouring down his face.  “Remus, why do they hate who I am?”

Remus didn’t have any good reply to that.  He just gently pulled Janus back to his chest and rubbed his back.  He wasn’t surprised when that just made Janus cry harder, but he didn’t know what else to do.

Janus pulled back and looked up at him after a second.  “Remus?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you still like me if I was a girl?”

Remus had no idea what that question entailed.  He nodded.

“And you like me even though I’m not?”

“Of course I do.”

“What if—” Janus sniffed.  “What if I end up liking boys too or something?  That would be even harder to explain.”

“I like boys,” Remus said instantly.

Janus sniffed again.  “You do?”

Remus nodded.  “Kid, you know what my mom said when I asked her about this stuff?”

“What?”

“She said love should never be conditional.”

“What does conditional mean?”

“It means, Janus,” Remus said, shifting so Janus could sit more comfortably on his lap.  “That you could be trans, cis, gay, straight, a weird half snake man who wears a really stupid hat—”

Janus finally laughed a little at that.

“And if you ask me that question, the answer will always be ‘I love you,’ over and over.”

Janus blinked a couple times.  “You mean you like me?”

“Nope.  I mean I love you, kid.  No matter what.”

Janus’ eyes got big, and tears welled up in them again.  “Over and over?”

“Over and over,” Remus agreed.

Janus sniffed again, and leaned his head into Remus’ chest again.  Remus wrapped his arms around him.  “I am so sorry your parents can’t see what an amazing kid you are just as you are,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Janus said.  “They just don’t understand.  They’re stupid adults.  Adults don’t understand anything.”

Remus held Janus tighter.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “Adults don’t understand anything.”

…

Over the next couple months, Janus and Patton ended up trading half their wardrobe.  Janus often had a monster truck or dinosaur shirt on within ten minutes of Remus coming over, though he would admit to Remus that those weren’t really his favorite.  He said he liked the one with the cartoon snake on it.  Remus spent the day going over shirts with more realistic snakes on them that Janus liked.  In the end they purchased a couple that Remus said he would keep at his house for days that Janus came over there.

They also spent quite a few days at the park with Patton and Logan, sometimes with Virgil, sometimes with Virgil’s mom or dad.  They felt bad about Janus’ situation too, and Remus could tell they wished they could be doing more.  But Janus wasn’t being abused or neglected, and transphobic parents weren’t a legal reason that someone could be removed from a home.  Remus was really doing about all he could for him.  At least it seemed to be making Janus happier than he was.  Sometimes, Janus told Remus everything he would do once he was too old for his parents to stop him.  Fifteen, he said.  When he was fifteen he would get a haircut.  And Remus would come, right?

Remus would consider for a moment that he’d probably be in college at that point, but he couldn’t imagine leaving this kid to deal with his parents alone, no matter how old they both got, so the conversation always ended with Remus promising that he’d be there when Janus got his first real haircut at fifteen.

There were, of course, things to teach Janus about how to rebel against all of society, though the kid already had an excellent head start with all the philosophy he knew.  Remus took him spray painting one time, and Janus sprayed all of curse words he knew on the wall.  Remus couldn’t be prouder.  They’d shoplifted together a couple times too.  Remus made sure Janus understood that you couldn’t shoplift from a small business that would actually get hurt by it.  Only big chains like Walmart.  And no stealing in a way that would hurt the employees.  Janus seemed to accept all of this easily.  “It’s about eating the rich,” he said, nodding firmly.  “Not hurting people who are already struggling.”

“You’ve got it,” Remus said with a proud smile.

But one of his favorite parts of being with Janus, after he spent one time at the park with Roman and Virgil, was how easily the kid picked up on how in love the two were.

“We have to do something about it,” Janus insisted.  “They’re wasting time!  They don’t have mean parents to worry about, why are they wasting time being scared?”

“I ask them that question all the damn time,” Remus said with a smirk.

“Okay,” Janus said, biting his lip as he started thinking.  “We’re gonna come up with a plan.”

“Oh, are we?  What are we doing?”

“I don’t know yet.  Come help me.”

They spent the rest of that afternoon coming up with their plan, and planned to enact it that Saturday.  They ended up at the ice cream parlor along with Patton and Logan, who were also in on the plan.  Janus was there with Roman and Remus, and Patton and Logan were there with Virgil.  The two in question were not aware that the other group was there.  So, after a couple minutes, Janus loudly remarked to Roman that Patton was there, and could they go say hi.

“You know,” Janus said before Roman could reply.  “I’m going to marry Patton one day.”

Roman smiled, his heart no doubt melting in the same way that Remus’ had when Janus had first told him this.  “Are you?” Roman asked, taking a bite of his ice cream.

Janus nodded.  “And he can wear a wedding dress, because he likes wearing dresses, and I can wear the tuxedo because I don’t like dresses, and you and Virgil can be the best men because it would be cool to have another married couple as the best men.”

Roman started coughing, and Remus patted him casually on the back as he struggled to stop turning bright red.  “What— Virgil and I aren’t married!” Roman exclaimed.

Janus gasped.  “What?  Why not?  When are you going to propose?”

“I— Janus, we’re not dating,” Roman said, turning more into a tomato by the second.

“What?” Janus said, sounding for all the life of him like he was heartbroken.  “You have to ask him out then!”

“Janus—”

“Roman, it could mess up Patton and I’s whole wedding!  You’re gonna mess up our wedding?”  His lip wobbled in a way Remus could tell was fake three months ago, but Roman was clearly not there yet.

“I— look, kiddo, I do like Virgil, but—”

“Then go on!  Time’s ticking, you have to get married before Patton and I do!” Janus called, jumping up and pulling Roman up out of his chair.  “Go on, go on, go on!”

Roman was left with not much of a choice at that point, and he headed over towards the booth across the parlor, where an equally red-faced Virgil had appeared to have been having a similar conversation.  Remus and Janus both followed him over.  There was no way they were missing this.

Virgil stood up quickly when Roman got there, and they both started stammering something that was barely coherent, but in the end, Roman managed to get out something about dinner on Friday, and Virgil managed to nod.

All of the kids, and Remus cause what the hell, started to cheer.

“Look at that, we finally got your heads out of your asses!” Remus called, slapping Roman on the back, who smacked him on the arm right back.

“You all planned this, didn’t you?” Virgil asked, looking too embarrassed to be angry, though Remus had no doubt that would come later.

“Maybe,” Remus said, sliding into the booth after Janus, who was now sitting next to Patton.

“We correctly deduced you would never do anything yourselves,” Logan said with a smile from Patton's other side.

“Janus and I are still getting married one day though,” Patton said, completely seriously.

“Yes,” Janus said, nodding along.  “And you two will be our best men.”

“Okay, slow down,” Roman said.  “That’s taking things a little fast.”

“I think they figured they’d make up for all the time you two wasted,” Remus said with a grin.

“I’m going to kill you later,” Roman said.

“No, please, think of my children,” Remus said.

“What children?”

“Me!” Janus exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.  Remus laughed and pulled him to his side, giving him a noogie.

As the conversation started to head back into a normal direction, Janus nudged Remus in the side.  Remus glanced over.

“Sorry I made the children joke,” Janus said quietly.

“Oh, don’t be sorry.  It’s true is what it is,” Remus said, ruffling his hair again.  “I have adopted you.  You can never get rid of me.”

Janus started smiling.  “Promise?”

“Promise,” Remus said.  “You know why?”

“‘Cause you love me over and over?”

“Because I love you over and over,” Remus said, giving Janus a quick side hug.  “You nailed it, my little man.”

“Little man,” Janus said quietly, though he was still smiling really big, and Remus smiled back.  “Little man.  Yeah.”

[elisela]

your name like honey on my lips stiles x derek, g, fluff & softness, 1.6k (ao3) for @tylerhunklin‘s prompt: “okay but like…what happens when derek gets too drunk at the bar and stiles has to drag him home…” -- lauren my sweetest love this is likely not what you were expecting but guess what, neither was i so.

--

It’s a bit of a surprise that the bar Stiles was called to abruptly in the middle of the night wasn’t terrible. Stiles had, when he’d finished stumbling into his jeans and made it outside, assumed that any place Scott would choose to get plastered in would be run down and disgusting, lacking appeal in everything except for cheap booze. Scott’s lucky to have a friend like Stiles, honestly, someone who’s willing to drag themselves out of their warm, comfortable bed at half past one in the morning and brave the frigid streets to go pick his drunk ass up. It makes him feel better to tell himself that, to dwell on his response to this situation instead of giving in to the irritation that Scott didn’t even have the decency to tell Stiles he was going out that night.

It was supposed to be Stiles’ night to celebrate; he’s got a brand new master’s degree in hand (okay, he’ll have it when they mail it to him in four to six weeks), he’s got two weeks to do nothing but laze around playing video games in his underwear until he starts his new job, and said job will finally afford him the chance to move out of his ninth-floor walk-up and hopefully into a building where the hallways don’t smell like three week old garbage that’s been left out in the summer heat despite it being January.

He loves Scott. Scott is his best friend in the entire world, the person who’d packed up everything he had and left his hometown just because Stiles had admitted to being lonely in New York; Scott is the person who makes Stiles believe there’s still good in the world. Scott is—

Not at this bar.

There’s hardly anyone in the place, not that he’s surprised—it’s Tuesday, a cold front has swept the city, and anyone with an ounce of sense is home. In bed. He mutters a curse under his breath and steps up to the bar. “Hey man, sorry—I’m Stiles? Someone called, said I needed to come get my buddy?”

The bartender jerks a thumb towards the end of the bar, and Stiles opens his mouth, ready to ask what the hell is going on because that’s not Scott, Scott’s got adorable wavy hair that stills flops down in front of his eyes sometimes, and he’s not nearly as built as this guy is; the guy may be slumped over the bar, head burrowed in his folded arms, but he’s got more muscle on him than Stiles and Scott combined. Whoever this guy is, Stiles doesn’t know him, doesn’t know why he asked the bartender to call Stiles to pick him up or how he even has his number, because Stiles only knows one person with a body like that and there’s no way that—

“You said adorable,” he hisses as the bartender, pointing wildly in Derek’s direction, because of course it’s the guy he regularly makes a fool of himself in front of over there, the one who he’s pretty sure can’t stand him even though Stiles has tried at least seventy-eight different ways to get his attention. “You said talkative. You said—”

He stops.

She holds up her hands and shrugs. “Look, we’re closing. If you don’t want to deal with him—”

“No, it’s fine,” he says, staring at the back of Derek’s head. He wonders how many drinks it took Derek to turn talkative; Stiles had, until this moment, seriously wondered if Derek had some sort of curse placed on him that only allotted him a few dozen words a day. He says more in ten minutes than Derek says all day, something he knows due to a combination of spending long days in the library writing his thesis and strategically choosing tables that offered him a view of the reference desk.

For easy research access, of course.

“You want me to call a cab for you two?”

He should stop staring. When he’d answered the phone—the Sheriff’s kid never, ever lets an unknown number become a missed call in the early hours of the morning—and she’d asked him to come get his adorable, talkative friend who wouldn’t shut up about him, he never expected this. “Yeah, that’d be great, thanks,” he says. He hopes Derek doesn’t live far, he’s still got a month before his first paycheck will hit his bank account and his take-out budget is going to get a serious chunk taken out of it if it turns out Derek lives out in Brooklyn or some shit.

He makes his way over until he’s on Derek’s other side and can see his face, eyes closed and resting peacefully. Stiles kicks at his foot gently; when that does nothing, and wraps his hand around Derek’s bicep—oh sweet Jesus—and shakes him a little, shoving his hands into his pockets when Derek’s eyes flutter open. “Hey, big guy,” he says, and Derek blinks up at him for a moment before smiling. Stiles draws in a breath and pastes a smile on his face because no, he is not affected by this. So what if he hasn’t ever seen a smile grace Derek Hale, permanently grumpy research librarian, before? There’s no reason why such a sight should make him want to melt into the floor right there. “Need some help getting home?”

Derek, it seems, has passed the point of happy, talkative drunk and has fallen straight into sleepy and silent. Stiles can’t decide if that’s better or worse, and when Derek finally slides off the barstool and straight into Stiles’ arms like he belongs there, nuzzling his face into Stiles’ neck with a sigh that bleeds contentment, Stiles starts calculating the odds that he actually died earlier in the day and this is his own personal heaven.

Or, more likely, a dream, because even though he’s got ten fingers and the cab waiting for them outside smells like vomit and greasy pizza, Derek shrugs helplessly when Stiles asks where he lives and his license lists somewhere upstate as his address, which means that his only real choice is to take Derek home with him, back to his shoebox of an apartment that’s barely big enough for a bed and a table, where he may have just enough room to sleep on the floor but certainly doesn’t have enough extra blankets to ensure he won’t freeze to death.

So he gives his own address to the cab driver, even though it’s only six blocks away, and stays pressed too close to Derek’s side, comfortably numb over the way Derek’s hand rests against his wrist, pinky and ring finger pressed against Stiles’ pulse point as they sit in silence. There’s so much he can’t wrap his head around that he doesn’t even try, because what good would it do to ask questions when Derek’s not said a single word to him so far? It’s startlingly familiar, just a different setting, a different hour, a different look on Derek’s face when Stiles helps him out of the cab and into his building.

By the time they’re up the stairs—a not insignificant feat—Derek is staring at him openly, mouth soft at the corners and eyes wide, fingers walking slowly up Stiles’ arm as he wedges his key into the lock and coaxes it back and forth until the deadbolt finally gives in and slides open.

“It’s not much,” Stiles says, curling his arm back around Derek’s waist and pulling him in, “and uh, I hope you don’t mind sharing the bed, I’ve got some—well, no, I don’t have any pants for you, sorry, but I have a shirt that might fit. It gets a little cold in here.”

He digs around in his dresser, pulling out of one the long sleeved shirts he wears to bed—it’ll be tight on Derek but it’s better than nothing—and tosses it at him while he pulls his own clothes off for the second time that night and looks around for the sweatpants he’d abandoned on the floor in his haste to leave. Derek’s still sitting on the edge of the bed when he’s done, looking down at his hands, and Stiles kneels in front of him without thinking, working at the laces of Derek’s shoes until he can pull them off.

“You’d be more comfortable without these,” he says, rubbing his palm against the jeans Derek’s still wearing. “You can leave them on if you want, but—it wouldn’t bother me if you took them off. If you’re comfortable with that.” Derek nods after a moment, leans into Stiles as he strips, keeps his hand on Stiles’ arm even as they crawl into the bed. He lays closer than Stiles thought he would, knees coming to rest together as they turn on their sides.

He’s almost asleep when Derek finally says his name. The light from the street below falls across Derek’s face at an angle, casting most of his face into shadow, but Stiles can see how Derek’s eyes sweep over his face, can feel the feather-light pressure of Derek’s thumb coming to rest against the corner of his mouth. “Is this real?”

There’s a slight slur to his words, a drunken lisp, and he can’t help but smile, Derek’s thumb tracing the line of his bottom lip. “You think this is a dream?” Maybe he shouldn’t touch—Derek’s still drunk, can’t really consent to anything and has never even remotely indicated that he would be interested in being in Stiles’ bed before this, but Derek’s touching him like he matters, so Stiles brings up his arm to rest around Derek’s waist and scoots a little closer.

“Yes,” Derek says quietly. “I won’t see you anymore. You’re—gone. I didn’t want you to be gone.”

“You can see me anytime you want,” Stiles says, tilting his head in, releasing a breath when Derek does the same, foreheads pressed together.

“Tomorrow?”

Stiles yawns, tugging Derek closer. “Every tomorrow,” he murmurs as he closes his eyes, and he falls asleep slowly to the sweep of Derek’s thumb across his cheek.

[johannstutt413]

(requested by calligomiles) 

“Heya, Miss Goody-Goody Gummy-Drop!” Leto, the second-most summer-y of the Ursus quintet, stopped by the cafeteria to see the most summer-y. “How’re things?”

“Oh, hi, Leto! Are you here for lunch?”

She gave her an ‘eh?’ gesture. “If you’ve got a minute to eat with me, then sure; honestly, I’m here for you.”

“Huh?” The chef blinked a few times before turning to Bagpipe. “Hey, Pippy, I’m gonna take a break, if that’s alright.”

“It ain’t busy enough fer me ta stop ya, Gumgum. Go on ahead.” The Vouivre spun the spatula in her hand as if welcoming the challenge.

The bra- halberdier (who’d’ve thought?) led Gummy off to a table noticeably out-of-the-way before sitting down, resting her polearm against the wall. “So, how’s it goin’?”

“Same as always,” she smiled back. “Hoping the rest of the Group isn’t having too tough a time out there.”

“Yeah, me too…It gets pretty lonely sometimes when they’re not around, doesn’t it?”

The chef wasn’t sure how to reply to that; honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time Leto had said something like that since they’d made it to Rhodes Island. “Um, maybe a little, but I mean, I can always find you when it gets bad, right?”

“Exactly!...So has it not been that bad when they’re gone?” Rosalind leaned forward when Gummy didn’t immediately respond. “I know you’re still having the nightmares, Rada. It’s okay.”

“I can manage-”

Leto shook her head. “C’mon, Sunny-Side Up, pick up what I’m putting down here, wouldja? I’m not asking if ya can manage, I’m asking if ya feel as lonely as I do when they’re out on missions and we’re stuck at home.”

“You can just ask it like that next time, then, Rozz.” Rada sighed. “Honestly, you know I’m a bit slow on the uptake after standing at a stove all day.”

“Aren’t you- never mind. So there is a chink in the ol’ bright-and-shining armor, huh? Always wanted to see ‘neath the mask.” The smile the halberdier flashed her was worth its weight in gold.

Gummy set a hand to her chin, spinning a salt packet against the table with the other. “So ya proved I’ve got more than one emotion; are ya satisfied yet, padruga moya, or ya wanna keep picking at me?”

“Oh, I wasn’t just picking, as fun as Sonya makes it look; I needed to know I had a shot before I asked the real question.” The chef waited. “How’s about we bunk together while we wait for them to get back? Ever since Nat and Anna decided they wanted their own room, I haven’t really had the option, so...”

“How long have you been- no, I probably shoulda asked by now. Ya like your bed?”

Leto blinked. “It could be better.”

“Then we’ll use mine.” Rada stood up from her seat and stretched. “Come find me after work, a’ight? I’m working dinner, too, so you shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Alright, cool…’Fore you get back to it, though.”

The chef shook her head. “Ye-?!” Before she could finish the word, the halberdier had her in a solid bear hug and didn’t let her go until she’d lifted her a solid inch off the ground. With that, Rosalind let Gummy go back to work and went off to continue her Guard training.

“She gave ya a good squeezin’ there, didn’ she?” Bagpipe remarked as the Ursus went back to the grill. “Why hav’n I herd ‘bout this girl sooner?”

“You’ve served Leto before, I’d guarantee it; she’d eat her weight in protein every day if she could.” Not that Gummy wouldn’t, given the chance.

The Vouivre set her spatula aside and her hands on her hips. “Now c’mon, Gumdrop, don’ be tryna beat ‘round the bush wi’ me. How long ya been a couple?”

���What?!” She shook her head wildly, although she wasn’t quite sure why she was protesting so much. “N-no, Pippy, that’s not how it is at all!”

“Eh? Sure as shit cudda fool’d me, way she looked at ya. Ah well. Ya got back just in time to help with dishes, so thank ya for yer service!”

Rada fell silent, then cracked a smile, and then started to laugh - not her usual mock laughter, her show-giggle, but a proper Ursan guffaw. “Blyat, she got me. How she played it cool this long, I’ll never know. Dishes, right? Sure thing, Pip.”

With this new piece of information, there was a change in the chef’s behavior; if before, she’d been energetic, now she was a god-damn nuclear power plant, and she wasn’t afraid of a little fallout - today’s evening altercation with Ceobe ended with Gummy tossing her out the dining room with a smile after giving her a good ear-scritching. It was like someone had reminded her what it looked like when an Ursus was allowed to enjoy themselves, and no one minded if she was a little rougher around the edges for it, because that smile? That genuine ear-to-ear smile that shone brighter than the phosphorescents in the ceiling? Worth it, no doubt about it.

“Hey, Gummy!” Leto came back towards the end of the dinner shift with a delivery receipt for some pizza, already changed into something casual...Well, casual and different enough from her usual outfit to be obvious. “Ready ta...go?”

“Am I ready ta spend the night with ya? Konechno, blyat! Bozhe moy, let’s be off!” Rada didn’t leave the kitchen so much as charge through the door and crash into Rosalind as a tidal wave of Gummy goodness.

On the one hand, it was fantastic to see her this enthused, but on the other hand…“Ya haven’t been drinkin’ without me, have ya?”

“Drinkin’ without- Suka, ya know I wouldn’t drink on-duty! Who’dya take me for, Beehunter? Nah, I’m just lookin’ forward ta tonight.” She winked at the halberdier. “Are ya ever gonna learn ta ask for what ya want, Rozz, or just keep tryna play it cool?”

“Alright, who told ya? Was it the other lady at the grill with ya today? I bet it was, because I’ve been dropping hints for weeks and ya only just caught me.”

Gummy grabbed her hand as they walked - saying she held it wouldn’t do the pressure justice. “Yeah, but shit, why didn’t ya tell me yourself?”

“Because I thought ya only had eyes for Sonya, natch.” Leto shook her head. “It was hard to tell, since you’d just shower her in praise every chance you got.”

“Look, suka, if ya’d just told me how ya felt, ya would’ve known for sure one way or another! Bozhe...Ya ordered dinner already?”

The halberdier nodded. “Yep! Wanna see if UFC’s on? Heard Sonya’s fave is getting her ass handed to her tonight.”

“Eh, it’s all the same,” Rada shrugged as she hauled her catch over to the couch, door to her apartment closing by itself as she crashed into it backwards. “Ya got something more important to take care of than that, anyway.”

“I do, huh?” Rozz had enough time to giggle once before Gummy was all over her.

That night, the two power plants of the Ursus Student Self-Governing Group figured out nuclear fusion...at least twice.

[jeserai]

my sun between the blinds

All that is left is this: holding her close, being held, feeling so very loved, like she has finally found her home in Catra’s arms.

for @fruit-snyak

After spending so many long months dreaming about finally meeting Catra and being able to finally see her, as she waits for Catra’s plane to finally land, all Adora feels is worry. The intense, all consuming kind of worry that won’t go away no matter how hard she tries to will or rationalize it away. Because after all, it’s just Catra. It’s just Catra, who she’s known for months now. It’s just Catra, the girl she’s had a crush on for what feels like forever. It’s just Catra, who she’s promised to spend forever with. She shouldn’t be nervous, it’s just Catra.

And then, just as Adora is finally beginning to calm down, her phone buzzes and her heart jumps wildly to her throat. But she answers, because it’s Catra, who is finally, finally here.

“Hey! I—Catra, are you here?”

“Yeah, you were not kidding about how crowded this place is—it’s so different from home! Next time, you have to come visit me.”

Next time. There’s going to be a next time, and—Adora knows that they’re basically dating already, knows that they are going to be married—but. There’s going to be a next time.

“Adora? You still there?”

“Sorry, I just—you’re here. It’s...kind of a lot.”

Catra goes quiet too, and for a long few moments, all Adora can hear is the bustle of the crowd through her shitty earbuds, and then Catra’s familiar squeaky laugh, and then, a quiet, fond, “You’re such an idiot, Adora.”

“Yeah, yeah, where are you?”

“Um...baggage claim C. Should I go anywhere or…?”

“No, I know where you are, stay there. I’ll be there in a minute, okay? Tell me about your flight—it was your first one, right?

“My first flight alone, yeah. I’ve flown a few times before though, but I...never really realized how much I just followed along with my parents until I was alone. Like—looking back, it was a simple process, but I was so scared I’d miss my flight until we took off, and then I was worried that I was somehow on the wrong plane. But I’m here now, and—is that you? God, it is, you’re wearing that stupid red jacket—”

“It is not stupid! You said you liked it!”

From across the room, Catra shakes her head, but she’s laughing as she hangs up the phone, picks up her duffel bag, and jogs over to Adora. Adora, whose hands are trembling, Adora, whose breath catches and stutters in her throat, Adora, who is so in love with Catra that she can barely bear it, and—

Catra is in front of her now, so close that if either of them reach out, they will finally, finally touch, and as if she can see Adora’s thoughts, the playful grin on Catra’s lips falters. All at once, Catra drops her bag and they collapse into each other in a hug so tight that it aches.

“Adora, I—you’re here, I was so nervous but you’re—you’re so tall, and—”

And Adora wants to tease Catra for suddenly being so choked up, but what comes out is a breathless, “You’re beautiful.”

Catra squeezes somehow tighter, then forces herself to pull back and fish something small from her bag. “I wanted to wait, but I—here.”

It’s a delicate necklace, a simple blue stone on a gold chain. Before Adora can get a good look at it, Catra spins her around, calloused hands gentle as they brush her hair away from the back of her neck and clasp the necklace. When Adora is turned back around, her heart stutters in her chest again because. Catra is here. This isn’t a dream, or a wish, it’s—Catra is here.

“Be mine,” Catra suddenly says, and though her hands are trembling as they clutch Adora’s, her voice is steady, and her eyes are clear. “Adora, go out with me, be my girlfriend, I wanted it to be perfect when I asked you but I need—”

“Yes. Yes, Catra, I’ll be your girlfriend, a million times yes.”

Catra smiles, and it’s the happiest she’s ever looked since they’ve met, all because Adora said she’ll be her girlfriend. Her girlfriend.

And then the smile slowly fades as Catra’s eyes drop down to Adora’s lips, and—

“Let’s...let’s get out of here.” Quickly, before Catra can tease her, Adora grabs her girlfriend’s bag, ignoring the pleased noise her girlfriend makes as she grabs Adora’s free hand to hold tight.

“Let’s!”

 The ride home is quiet, but not an awkward quiet, or the familiar silence they’ve shared so many times before while video calling. It’s somewhere in between, with Adora’s hand on Catra’s leg, and Catra taking in the new city around her, and the playlist they made together playing quietly in the background. Every so often Adora will point out a landmark—the guilty pleasure fast food place she always runs to during a long study session, the coffee shop to never go to, the park she and Bow jog through on Saturday mornings. Catra always hums and laughs and nods at appropriate times, but her mind is clearly on something else, and finally, as Adora pulls into the parking lot of the townhouse she shares with Bow and Glimmer, Catra turns to her, turns Adora to face her, leans in close, and kisses her.

When she pulls away, Catra heaves out a relieved sigh, leaving her hand on Adora’s cheek for a moment longer, just enough to stroke her cheek as she murmurs, “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you.”

 There was a plan. They’d planned this whole trip out, gone through it countless times before, and today was supposed to be the day that Adora showed Catra around the city, that they stopped at one of Adora’s favorite pizza places, that they came home and baked and watched movies late into the night. There was a plan.

But instead, they end up in Adora’s room, Catra slowly walking around and looking at the little bits of Adora that she’s only ever seen through her phone screen—polaroids on the wall, books neatly stacked on the shelf, movie ticket stubs and playbills tacked onto the corkboard above her desk. Adora watches her from her bed, nervously picking at her nails as she waits for Catra to come to a stop.

And then, finally, she does, staring at Adora with an intensity that makes the breath stop in her lungs. Adora lifts one trembling hand, and after one beat, two, Catra closes the distance between them to take Adora’s hand and let herself be pulled into her lap. Already, being this close and holding Catra this tight feels so familiar, and Adora never wants to let go. And Adora realizes all at once that she could spend an eternity like this, in this peaceful quiet, with her face pressed into Catra’s neck, just breathing in the faint smell of her perfume, cinnamon and vanilla. Dimly, Adora remembers Catra sleepy telling her that cinnamon is one of her favorite scents, and—to think that they’ve gone from quiet confessions in the middle of the night to holding each other like this…

Adora shifts, just to pull back enough to look her girlfriend in the eye, but Catra somehow clings tighter, an unspoken plea for her to stay in the quiet noise that leaves her throat. But Adora isn’t going anywhere—won’t ever go anywhere. All she can do now is stroke Catra’s hair and run through all the things she doesn’t have the voice to say, all the things she’s said countless times before. How the love she holds in her chest threatens to overflow every day, how much Adora wants to buy a ring and propose now, how she has never loved and felt so loved before in her life.

She doesn’t have to say it now, because Catra already knows.

All that is left is this: holding her close, being held, feeling so very loved, like she has finally found her home in Catra’s arms. And somehow they end up lying down, legs and arms tangled together, foreheads pressed together. It is like the countless nights they’ve spent on call together, lying close to the camera as they talked in quiet whispers, but there is something new now: Adora’s fingers carding through Catra’s hair, the way Catra tips into Adora when she laughs, the aimless shift of their bodies drifting closer and closer together as the hours pass by.

This, this is enough for today (this would be enough for every day) and as the evening sun eventually streams through Adora’s window, painting the room a soft gold, Catra shifts closer, just enough for Adora to kiss the honey-sweet confession from her lips. And after, as Adora pulls back to just stare, Catra laughs, shaking her head before tucking her face back into Adora’s neck.

“We had plans, didn’t we? And you were so excited to show me around, but we just...”

And yeah, but— “Today was better than anything we could’ve ever planned,” Adora murmurs, “we have tomorrow. Let’s just...stay like this.”

And it is enough.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Pizza Party (2/1/2021)

Alastor gets a part in Hell’s first totally-unauthorized smuggled-down-from-the-living-world production of Hamilton, and he wants to celebrate; Sir Pentious @usedhearts reveals he hasn’t had a meal in A While; Alastor takes the opportunity to come over with pizza to celebrate and moon over Sir Pentious some more in a totally normal very platonic friend way. They talk about Alastor’s part in the show, discuss relocating the airship for further repairs, and Alastor invites Sir Pentious to a Mardi Gras ball. You know. Platonically.

usedhearts

🎩 ALASTOR, I WOULD HATE TO BE A BOTHER BUT I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN TO....EAT....AGAIN HA.....

🎩 I ONCE AGAIN GOT TOO ENGROSSED IN MY WORK IT SEEMS!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh, wonderful, I need someone to celebrate with! In the mood for anything in particular? I’ll probably just harass one of my regular haunts for a couple of plates!

usedhearts

🎩 NO NOTHING PARTICULAR THAT I CAN THINK OF! I WOULD LOVE TO CELEBRATE WITH YOU THOUGH!

🎩 I'M AT THE AIRSHIP! I WILL LOVE TO SHOW YOU THE REPAIRS SO FAR TOO!

🎩 I MAY BE IN THE BATH WHEN YOU ARRIVE, I NEED TO SCRUB OFF ALL THE GREASE AND OIL FROM MY WORKING!

🎩 MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME THOUGH, I WON'T TAKE TOO TERRIBLY LONG!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh!

🎶 Sure sure, that’s fine! Where should I wait?

usedhearts

🎩 THE KITCHEN SEEMS LIKE A GOOD CHOICE! OR THE BRIDGE! WHICHEVER YOU WISH!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Kitchen seems most convenient for a meal, I’ll wait for you there! I’m sure you’d like to give me a tour of the bridge’s repairs, anyway.

usedhearts

🎩 bossman said to tell u that he would like to do that also hi this is egg #310 :)

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Well, hello! Tell your boss I'm bringing pizza. It's quick and it leaves leftovers.

🎶 But quality pizza. Not one of those junk food chains.

usedhearts

🎩 i told him he said that that sounds good! we are helping him scrub off all the grease!! :)

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh.

🎶 Super!

🎶 Be there soon.

usedhearts

🎩 yes, it is! we will see u soon mr radio man! :)

Alastor

Alastor had arrived early with three boxes of pizza and was waiting in the kitchen—not that anyone had probably noticed that yet. He hadn't turned the lights on and he'd been uncharacteristically dead silent since his arrival—listening to the faint sound of singing echoing from elsewhere in the airship.

Sir Pentious

He had good timing, Telly was now out of the bath, mostly dry, and slithering back into his bedroom. He just finished Jolly Sailor Bold and slid immediately into another song. "_I'm a killer, cold and wrathful/Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom/I've murdered half the town/Left you love-notes on their headstones/I'll fill the graveyards until I have you._"

Alastor

Oh, now there was something different. Thus far it had been all show tunes and shanties, but he just barely recognized this one as a modern tune.

It wasn't a pleasant recognition. But he could close his eyes and pretend the song was being sung for him. The thought of being murdered for was... nice.

Was Sir Pentious a little louder? Maybe he was getting closer.

Sir Pentious

Telly slithered about his bedroom, towel wrapped around his hips-- not that he needed it, just a habit really. He headed towards his dresser as he kept singing. "_Moonlight walking, I smell your softness/Carnivorous and lusting to track you down among the pines/I want you stuffed into my mouth/Hold you down and tear you open, live inside you, love/I'd never hurt you/But I'll grind against your bones until our marrows mix/I will eat you slowly..._"

Alastor

Oh, what a beautiful sentiment. Maybe Sir Pentious *was* singing about Alastor—

Ha! Sure, keep dreaming. And try not to drool. He'd just enjoy the performance as long as he could.

Sir Pentious

"_Oh, the horror of our love/Never so much blood pulled through my veins/Oh, the horror of our love... never so much blood._" He spun around the room, belting the song as he put on his shirt. He sang the next few verses, and noticed the kitchen light wasn't on. Alastor must've still been waiting on the food. He slithered through the door singing the end of the song, and flicked on the light-- and was startled to see Alastor's there! His hood flared in surprised before settling instantly. His hand on his chest, he shook his head.

"You startled me, Alastor!"

Alastor

Alastor was so absorbed in listening to the singing—hovering near the doorway, glowing eyes shut as he listened—that he didn't even register that the singing had drawn dangerously close until the lights flashed on. His eyes snapped open. Oh, whoops.

"You think *you're* startled?! Imagine this from my perspective! Here I am, minding my own business lurking in the shadows, when someone turns on the light and flares a cobra hood in my face!" Studio audience laughter.

Alastor gestured with a flourish toward the kitchen table where three pizza boxes are stacked. "Here we are! Someday I'll make something fancy for you, but in the meantime I thought it was more important to get you fed sooner rather than later."

Sir Pentious

Telly was, once again, VERY thankful that he couldn't blush. God, he would be bright red right now if he were still human. He glanced over at the pizzas, barely registering them or what Alastor was saying. He should pay attention, shouldn't he? Yes, but also....Alastor was right here and Telly was feeling oh so warm and cuddly.

And so he indulges his urges a little, moving closer to coil around Alastor and give him a hug. Warm hug from a snake in a t-shirt.

"Congratulations again on your roles! I haven't had the chance to see Hamilton yet, but I'm sure whatever the roles entail, you'll excel at." He didn't want to let go, but his stomach gave a painful sort of twist-- one that came from being empty too long.

"Let's eat, though, I'm starving." He laughed.

Alastor

Oh, good god, he was so warm. Warm and wearing nothing but a single layer of cotton, and he smelled fresh and perfumy and clean, and at the moment the thought of stuffing as much of Sir Pentious into his mouth as he could fit and ripping out a chunk was wildly appealing.

It took him a moment to register what Sir Pentious had actually said. "I'm starving, too." *Part* of what Sir Pentious had said.

Sir Pentious

Telly opened one of the boxes and flicked his tongue to sniff. Oh, that smelled good. He didn't even bother with a plate, taking a slice and swallowing it whole-- as a snake normally would, but that just looked odd for someone who was normally so prim and proper. He took another slice and this time bit it, y'know, like a normal human being. After swallowing his bite, he spoke.

"So, tell me about the audition, how did it go? I saw the outfit you wore, it was very bad, but in a very you way, I adored it!" He let out a Pentious Cackle.

Alastor

Oh wow. Never mind, maybe what Alastor wanted was to be stuffed inside Sir Pentious's mouth.

He opened a second box—helpfully labeled "SOYLENT ;)" in marker—and grabbed a slice for himself. "Oh, *right!* Why, for a moment there I nearly forgot what we were celebrating, what with the"—singing and hugging—"pizza and all."

Alastor had been congratulated a moment ago, hadn't he? "Thank you—apparently it went well! Hah! I wasn't sure it would! The casting director was impressed by my performing abilities and my resume—but not my performing *style.* It's a... are you familiar with *rap?* Most of the show is rap. My natural instinct is to go a little too melodic. There's a couple of songs I'm not sure *how* I'm going to do." He looked nervous for a split second; but only that long, and then the look was gone. "But if I was good enough for him, that's good enough for me! We've got plenty of rehearsals, we'll make it work."

Sir Pentious

Rap! Oh yes he'd heard a few rap songs, even liked a couple! He nodded. "Yes, that does seem outside your normal range, but I'm sure you can find a way to do it! You are the most skilled performer I know, Alastor."

He's purring now, and taking another bite of pizza. God, he really was hungry right now, how had he not noticed earlier? "I'm very excited to see you on stage! You'll get to show all of Hell a whole new side to the Radio Demon! Or maybe, just a slightly different songs-- it's not like anyone who knows you isn't already aware that you love musical theater!"

He chuckled. Telly folded the rest of the pizza slice in half before swallowing it down like the first. He really was too hungry right now. "I'm certain that the speed of these raps won't be a problem for you-- is it just the style you're worried about?"

Alastor

"Hah! Don't know many performers, do you?" He tilted his head dismissively, like he was ducking the compliment. "I'm better than most, sure—but half of that's because I've got my own traveling band. That's not going to be the case up on the stage, it'll be just me. And by myself, among a whole cast of professional musical theater actors? I'm just the guy who got turned down by every show in New York for three years straight." He clucked his tongue. "But, here I am. I don't know if standards are that much lower in Hell than they were in New York, or if I got that much better—but I hope it's the latter."

Oh, the *thought* of getting to show that side to Hell—of being up on the stage, all spotlights on him, drowned in thunderous applause... Don't mind him if he stares off into the distance for a moment as applause faintly plays, he's fantasizing. Sorry, what were they talking about? "Sure! Anyone who knows me won't be surprised—but how many people know me? Everyone else in Hell will be meeting me for the first time!" He desperately hoped it made a difference.

"Oh, the speed's no problem—the fastest song in the show goes like so—" He played a clip from one song, "—*I'm takin' this horse by the reins makin' Redcoats redder with bloodstains*—" then cut back in and picked up where it left off, "And I've got no trouble keeping up, 'And I'm never gonna stop until I make them drop and burn them up and scatter their remains,' see." He did indeed sing it just as fast as the recording—but that was the thing, he was definitely singing it, setting the lyrics to a mostly monotone tune. It didn't sound bad, but it definitely stood out as Not Rapping.

Sir Pentious

He blinked at the speed of that-- wow it really was fast! He'd never be able to sing that, certainly. But Alastor definitely could and Telly leaned closer as he did. Hm, yes, there was that tune to it.

"Well, perhaps all you need is to practice? It's something new, you're not going to be perfect at it straight off the bat." He leaned closer and playfully blelele'd against his ear. Oh, wait, was that weird? He pulled back and went back to eating. Monch monch.

"It's like...swimming or engineering or even singing normally, it's a skill you'd have to develop, right?"

Alastor

Oh, tongue flick. He hoped his ear smelled okay. Of course it did, why wouldn't his ear smell okay? He took a bite of his pizza, he'd hardly eaten so far.

"Sure," he sighed. "Can I develop it before opening night, though—that's the question! What I'd like best is if we could tweak the songs a little to mesh with *my* style—but then getting that to mesh back into the *show's* style will take time and practice, too, so I've got to decide which it's going to be soon enough that we can figure it out before opening night... The director might come down hard one way or the other and settle the matter, but what if they're too nervous to give me direction because I'm the Radio Demon?" He flung up a hand. "It will be fine, I'm sure it will be fine. I know. But I don't like the waiting. Anyway, if the whole show crashes and burns, at least it'll be fun to watch." He already had a plan B, apparently.

Sir Pentious

"Maybe you'd just need to workshop it a little? Try it out different ways and see if the director likes it?" There WAS that intimidation factor of him being the Radio Demon. "I don't know what to do about the reputation part of it, unfortunately, that's a conundrum."

His head tilted, and he swallowed down another slice. Whole. There he goes. And he's picking up another slice.

"Perhaps having a one on one talk with the director to ensure them that you won't kill them for simply doing their job?"

Alastor

"That's probably what we're going to do. And see how it goes from there, I suppose."

And there went another slice, down the hatch. Was Sir Pentious even tasting them? Alastor finished his first (!) slice and grabbed a second.

"I'm going to be having talks like that for *weeks.* With the director, with the other actors, with the crew backstage—in groups, individually, in public, in private... I'm bringing a cake and my best sweet-and-innocent face to our first rehearsals."

Sir Pentious

"That's a good idea! Just try to be as non-threatening as possible." He shrugged a bit, taking a bite this time.

"If you want help practicing or running lines, or whatnot, I would be very willing to help with that." He smiled. "Oh!" He moved to the sink and turned on the tap, looking proud of himself. "The water's fixed! And the heat too! The warehouse is also almost done being repaired, though I'm sure that people have seen the swarming eggs and know I'm here now. I should probably look into moving soon, or hire some guards."

Alastor

"That's the plan! If everything works out, by our third rehearsal session they'll be wondering whether all the rumors about the Radio Demon were complete hogwash!" Assuming none of them had met him before. Ooh, maybe they'd met him during his brief foray into the theater scene in the seventies, he'd made a good impression on a few people then, hadn't he? He could hope.

"With Valera in the show and Charlie falling all over herself with excitement that I've picked up an activity that doesn't end in bloodshed, I think I'm fine on practice partners." Especially considering that *all* the lines were music, and mostly very fast music. "But I'll be more than happy to come by and show off in front of you!"

He played a round of applause for the demonstration of running water. "You have other warehouses you can move to, I hope?"

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I do. I just need to get the airship mobile before I can do that. Or find a truck capable of taking it somewhere else." He sighed and moved back next to Alastor. Telly finished the slice in his hand and then got another one. Why yes, he was that hungry.

"I'd love for you to show off for me, though. It'll be my first experience with the musical! I haven't gotten my hands on a copy yet." He shrugged a bit.

Alastor

Telly was already on his fifth slice. Alastor was glad he’d gotten three pizzas. “Or find an incredibly powerful friend capable of opening a portal big enough to transport an airship through?” Look at that sweet smile.

“Oh! The hotel has a copy, we could watch it together!” Too presumptuous? “Or I could—send it to you, whichever you prefer.”

Sir Pentious

"I would love to watch it with you, Alastor. Who better than one who's going to be in it?" He grinned, nibbling at this slice. "We can make a night of it! It'll be fun!"

He hummed. "Would it be alright for you to transport something so large? And would I need to brace anything within the airship or without?"

Alastor

*Movie night.* Oh, that sounded delightful. “We’ll call it part of my practice! I can get up and perform my parts for you.” And spend the rest of the time in Telly’s coils... He liked coiling around Alastor, right? He sure seemed like he did. That’d be fine.

“Why, sure, not a problem! Just buy me dinner.” Speaking of dinner—he finished of his second slice and grabbed a third. “Brace it the way you would for any other transport. I can open the portal underneath, so gravity can do most of the work—but I presume you don’t want it to go into free fall. Might be best if you set up some cranes or whatnot to lower it through a little more gracefully. And of course, it’s going to be passing through my friends’ dimension. It shouldn’t be a problem, but if I were you I’d keep the doors locked just in case.”

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded, humming a a bit. "Yes, I'll need to make some preperations before we were to move it then. We don't want it becoming _more_ damaged after all."

He nibbled more at his pizza, and smiled. "Thank you for coming over, Alastor. You always make my day better when you do." Oh no, was that too much? He cleared his throat and looked away. "So, ah, when would you want to watch Hamilton? I would be 'down' for whenever."

Alastor

There was a burst of interference noise as Alastor’s heart lodged itself somewhere in his throat. He swallowed it back down with half a slice of pizza. “And it’s always my *greatest* pleasure to do so! You make for fine company, my friend!” He resisted the urge to lay it on even thicker. “I’ll have to find out when rehearsals are starting up and what that schedule looks like—oh, and Mardi Gras is coming up, I *must* find out when all the parades are this year—so I’ll let you know once I know when I’m free!” He laughed, “I’m not used to having a schedule!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, Mardi Gras! Yes, the Alastor here gets very excited about that too!" He laughed a bit. "I didn't know about it before I met him, but it all seems like fun!"

He leaned his elbow on the table and then his chin on his hand. "You're becoming a busy man, just hope you'll have time for me. It'd be nice to still see you, every now and again."

Alastor

“Of course I’ll have time for you!” He reached out to grab Telly’s hand. “You don’t think I’m the kind of man who’d abandon his friends just because I caught a hint of medium-level semi-stardom, do you? If I get so busy I don’t have time to visit you, then I’m dragging *you* along to visit *me.*” He registered, belatedly, that holding Telly’s hand meant he was also holding Telly’s pizza. He politely relinquished his grip. Ahem. “Maybe Mardi Gras is a good opportunity for that! Have you ever been? I can’t take you to *everything,* but the parades are all public! And maybe one of the balls that doesn’t need an invitation—“ Did he just invite Telly to a dance.

Sir Pentious

"I went one year with the Alastor here-- it's terribly loud with so many people, but it was fun too." He smiled, and didn't seem to mind when Alastor grabbed his hand and pizza. He even, rather pointedly, still brought the slice up for another bite.

"We never went to a ball, though, that sounds like fun. Oh!" He seemed to light up. "Would we get to wear costumes? Would it be like a masquerade? I do miss those, all the vibrant costumes and the intricate masks!" He sighed dreamily, then blinked, straightening a bit and looking a little abashed.

"Well, good, though-- I can't exactly pop open a portal to come to you, so this will only work with your continued interest," He said, laughing, but there was certainly a bitter tinge to it.

Alastor

“Oh, some of the balls are snobbish black tie affairs—the only costuming is rich people trying to look like even richer people.” He scoffed. “At the *good* ones, though—costumes are *highly* encouraged, masks and all. I never go without a mask—ha, as if anyone would talk to me if I did!”

He heard that bitterness. His hand crept back over to... he’ll go with Sir Pentious’s wrist this time. “If I’ve got anything to say about it, you’ll never have to worry about that.” Maybe there was a way he could give Telly his own way to open up portals to come visit...

Sir Pentious

His heart clenched at that touch, those words. How he wished he didn't have the little voice whispering in the back of his head saying that it wasn't true. But this wasn't Leclerq, this was different. This Alastor hadn't hurt him, and he looked so earnest right now...

Telly took a breath, looking away a moment, his chin coming off his hand so it could cover Alastor's. "I know, I'm sorry-- it's nothing that has to do with you, just....old worries raising their heads again. Things that I have no reason to ascribe to you. Thank you, for reassuring me, though, Alastor. And I'd love to coordinate costumes with you for the actual good balls." His smile returned now, a bit more genuine and much more warm.

Alastor

“No need to apologize! I’m not a figure that inspires trust, I know that. I’ll just have to keep saying it until it sounds believable, won’t I?” He’d say it for decades if he had to.

His eyes lit up and he squeezed Telly’s wrist excitedly. “Oh—I’ve never coordinated costumes with someone before!” He looks like a kid who’s been handed a dollar in a penny candy store.

Sir Pentious

Telly sat up straighter and his face brightened again. "Oh, yes, it's sso much fun! We can pick a theme and find a tailor and--" He cut himself off his face screwing up momentarily.

"Though all the onesss I know are rather too expensssive consssidering I ssstill have to pay for all thisss." He gestured to the airship around them. "Damn angelsss," He muttered.

Alastor

“We can get pre-made costumes and tweak ‘em a little. And Rosie can help! She’s a regular sorceress with a sewing machine!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh! We'd need to find ones that aren't cheaply made, you know how they love to mass produce everything nowadays. Sacrificing quality for quantity..." He shook his head and sighed. Telly's face turned shy and laughed softly.

"I actually have never met Rosie, if you can believe it. Not even when Alastor and I--" He cut himself off. Nope, not going to start digging into that right now. He'd _just_ pushed those feelings aside. "Anyway, I haven't met her, but I'd be happy to do so with an introduction from you."

Alastor

"I *know,* the cheap polyester things that aren't even hemmed properly!" He shook his head while his invisible audience booed disapproval. "No, we'll have none of that cheap Halloween fare! We'll be going for theater costumes and rental costumes, the high quality products! I know some *wonderful* little claustrophobic holes in the wall—clothing racks packed so tightly you can hardly move between them, jewelry and decorations arranged in rainbow order down the length of an entire wall, an entire room dedicated just to masks, dressing rooms the size of closets and restrooms smaller than the dressing rooms, no two costumes alike in the whole store! It's going to be such fun!" He was practically bouncing in his seat.

Sir Pentious

His excitement was infectious and it had Telly nearly bouncing on his coils too. "Oh, yes, that does sound like fun! I've never done anything like that, I've always had my things bespoke from a tailor's or given as gifts. But I do wonder what we can find hidden like jewels in the depths!"

As he's nearly vibrating, he slithered around the table, getting ready to put the boxes in the fridge. "Are you done eating? I want to show you how much I've gotten done! But first the leftovers need to go into the icebox."

Alastor

"Oh, hold on!" He grabbed two more slices and stuffed them in his mouth. "Don't put them in the icebox in their boxes, that'll dry them out and the leftovers won't last as long! You want them in cling wrap or a ziplock." Mr. Foodie over here getting fussy over food he didn't even make. "Careful with mine, it's got people on it. Do you eat people?" He didn't think they'd discussed it before, had they?

Sir Pentious

"I eat what I can get my hands on." Oh, he said that too fast and that was a bit too honest. So he's going to busy himself looking for something suitable. "I think I have some cling wrap in here somewhere..."

Alastor

Oh, that was heartbreaking. "Then my leftovers are yours!" He leaned on a counter to wait while Telly searched. "We'll see about finding costumes and then visit Rosie if they need altering. She'll be pleased to meet any friend of mine—especially one willing to dine in the Cannibal Colony! Just don't mind her if she gets a bit... tease-y."

Sir Pentious

"Tease-y?" He looked at Alastor as he finally fished out the roll of cling wrap. He offered it to Alastor-- he didn't really like the stuff, but hey, if it kept the pizza fresher longer....

Alastor

He started wrapping up slices in little stacks of three at a time. "She's noticed my tendency to befriend every snake I cross paths with and has taken to poking fun at me for it, that's all." She also heartily disapproved. She was convinced it was just going to keep ending in heartbreak, and wasn't impressed with Alastor for becoming the kind of person who'd do that to himself. But surely she'd be courteous to Sir Pentious himself.

Sir Pentious

"Ah, I see." He nodded. "I suppose your relationship is one of those vitriolic friendships, where you tease one another? Or am I assuming wrong again?" His eyes narrowed as he thought.

Alastor

"I can't stand vitriolic friendships. Just enemies who smile at each other—and I have enough of those. No no—at most, harmless friendly banter, and even that's rare." And powered not by vitriol but by concern, worry disguised under jokes.

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded. "Yes, I, too, do not like that. I have enough enemies, but most don't smile anymore, just laugh in my face." Said face twisted into a hateful expression before he sighed and relaxed. He started putting the finished packets of three slices into the frige-- one of those really old kinds with the handle in the middle.

Alastor

"I've got one or two like that. I've found the best way to deal with them is to ignore them completely. Let them stew unhappily in your lukewarm indifference!"

Sir Pentious

His head tilts and he frowns a bit. "People dare to laugh in _the_ Radio Demon's face?" He hummed. "They either must be brave or stupid. Or both. But unfortunately, I don't think I have a talent for indifference."

Alastor

"Powerful," Alastor said. "And stupid, but that's unrelated." A shrug. "Indifference is a skill! It can be practiced. But step one is 'keep smiling'—and I'm afraid you're very expressive, my friend."

Sir Pentious

And Alastor's point is proven when his face scrunches again. "Yes, it's always been a problem, even when I was alive." He let out a huffy sigh, putting the rest of the pizza packets in the fridge before closing it. His arms crossed. "I don't think I've ever been able to control my expression..."

Alastor

"In your case, you might have an easier time practicing an equally valuable skill." He smiled maliciously. "Teach people to fear the sight of your displeasure."

Sir Pentious

He blinked, and then that patented Evil Pentious Grin slid over his face. "You know, Alastor, I think you're right." Telly laughed, that evil laugh that Alastor loved, and then put his hands on his hips, his chest puffing.

"Which the repairs to my airship will help accomplish! Come, come, let's go to the bridge! I want to show you how good it looks now."

Alastor

Oh, *there* was a glimpse of that villainous megalomania Alastor so adored. He gestured grandly. "Lead away!"

Sir Pentious

And lead he does! Through the bedroom-- which, if Alastor will notice, looks much more put together than before and there's a special place on the coat hanger for the leviathan leather belt he'd gotten Telly-- and then up the ramp to the bridge. Look! No glass on the floor now! Everything's clean and dusted and in order. Telly beelines it for the organ, and presses a key. There isn't the normal organ drone, but it DOES tink like a piano key.

"I UPGRADED A BIT! I FIGURED WHILE IT WAS OUT OF ORDER, I COULD ADD A FEW MORE INSTRUMENTS TO THE ORGAN'S REPERTOIRE!"

Alastor

He spared a passing glance to the bedroom, picking up random details as he hurried by—including the belt, oh, that warms his dead heart—but not slowing down as they hurried on to the bridge. What was Sir Pentious so eager to show off? A completely overhauled bridge? Glowing hologram projections, perhaps? Additional weaponry?

He was not expecting “an organ with a piano hidden inside it.” Somehow that was more outlandish than anything else he’d expected.

“*You what.*” Alastor was fighting not to laugh in delight. He took a seat and tried a couple of random keys on separate keyboards—were all of the keyboards outfitted as pianos now?

Sir Pentious

Telly was downright delighted by Alastor's reaction. Only the main, lowest set, keyboard made the piano sounds. The other two still sat dead.

"YES! I wanted it to have more versatility, and I thought, why not? A piano has keys, and so does an organ, it was simple enough to fit them together!" He laughed, slithering behind Alastor. He placed his hands on his shoulders, before leaning close over him to press a few keys.

"At least it can be played now, until the pipes for the rest of it is fixed!"

Alastor

He momentarily stiffened in shock when Sir Pentious leaned behind him and placed his hands on Alastor’s shoulders, instantly distracted by being *loomed over,* hyper aware of the hands on his shoulders. He shook off the feeling and quickly leaned forward to try out the piano, hoping that Telly wouldn’t notice the momentary tension.

He ran a few quick arpeggios to see how it sounded; then, on a spur of the moment decision, launched into a familiar blues bassline—familiar to him, anyway. After getting into the rhythm of it, he started singing: “‘So what’d I miss? What’d I miss?’—this is one of my songs—‘Virginia, my home sweet home, I wanna give you a kiss...’”

Sir Pentious

He did notice the tension, his hand feeling it in Alastor's shoulder, but he didn't say anything. Instead he moved to the side, where the violins were kept, his head tilting as he listened to the music.

"That ones seems very _you_! It's very jazzy." He hummed along as he opened the panel to retrieve one of the instruments. He propped it on his shoulder, taking another few moments to listen before he joined the melody. He wasn't sure if this song had violin originally, but it did now!

Alastor

Alastor’s grin widened when Sir Pentious started playing along. There hadn’t been violin where Sir Pentious happened to be playing, but he was the last person who’d complain about an impromptu addition to a spontaneous musical number.

He played through to the point where his part ended and some other as-yet-unknown actor was supposed to pick up the song—“‘He grabs my arm and I respond, what’s going on?’”—then cut it off with a glissando and a flourish. “*That’s* the song that convinced me I want to be in this show.”

Sir Pentious

Telly finished his bit with a vibrato and then lowered the violin. "I can see why! It's definitely in your wheelhouse. I like it."

He put the violin back and shut the panel again, slithering back to sit on his coils near Alastor. "I look forward to hearing your other songs, as well." He sat up, remembering the real reason they'd come to the bridge. "Oh! Yes! So, I have the water fixed, plumbing is coming along, no leaks so far. Electricity is back up and running, so the heat is back as well! The outer areas are being repaired nicely and quickly, and soon we'll be able to start adding the pipes for the organ and the tanks back in!" He ticked all of these off on his fingers.

Alastor

“And it’s even better in context! Much darker.”

He turned to straddle the bench and look at Telly directly as he spoke. Water, plumbing, electricity—it struck him as odd that heat was a higher priority than air conditioning, in Hell of all places, but then the air was colder higher up, wasn’t it? Was it cold enough to require heating? Or did Telly just get cold that easily? “Sounds like you’re coming right along! You’ll have this bird back up in the sky in no time.”

Sir Pentious

"Indeed! I hope that it will be sky-worthy again in at least a few months! That is, as long as I don't get distracted by other ideas and projects, but at least the Eggs will keep up with it, even if I am not actively working on it!" He laughed again.

"But so far, there's now MORE outside the bridge! Come, see!" He gestured for Alastor to follow and went over to a closed set of doors-- which opened to a rather plain looking, but functioning, hallway. After about fifty yards, it dropped off suddenly, with scaffolding and some Eggs continuing the repairs. "Obviously, all the flourishes aren't added back in yet, but function before fashion is the name of the game currently!"

Alastor

“What a pity, being so beholden to pragmatism!” He shook his head in sympathy. “Does the hallway lead anywhere interesting yet, or is it a spine without ribs at this point?”

Sir Pentious

"Exactly that-- spine without ribs, buuuut..." He trailed off, leading to the edge and leaning out to peek over. "Down there, you can see the tanks being rebuilt!"

Alastor

“Are these the water and toilet tanks?” He leaned over to see for himself, a bit farther than necessary. Don’t worry, he’s got great balance.

Sir Pentious

"Yes! Currently the water's hooked into the city lines, but once those are done, I'll be able to unhook it without loosing water access." He pulled back, a smirk on his lips.

"Would you like to see them up close?" He asked his hand reaching out to grasp a pole that looked sturdier than the rest of the scaffolding. It stretched all the way down to where the in construction tanks sat, looking like something from a fire station.

Alastor

It looked *very much* like something from a fire station. The temptation was irresistible. “Absolutely!” He grabbed the pole and slide down it, spinning around it as he went.

Sir Pentious

"Oh!" Telly laughed when Alastor slid down and waited until he reached the bottom before grabbing on himself. He twirled the end of his tail around it for support and down he went. The tour continued!

[dumbdotcomm]

how to fall in love with your best friends

(a/n) i had this queued up in my old blog and totally didn’t repost it here so! here’s the commission i did for @fanfic-inator795‘s wonderful ocs!

Now if Mikey got to thinking about it hard he guess it all really started off like this: a nice beautiful morning- sun shining birds singing over the bustling clamor and the sweet caress of the wafting scent of oil and gasoline making him feel like everything was just right. It ought to have been- he’ll be with his friends soon, and they’ll all be extently laxed, a simultaneous, collective easygoingness to them that's undeniably the best part of working down at Hueso’s in the first place.

And sure things would get messy and, sure, it may not have been ideal for the back, a little hard on the muscles lugging trays out and garbage out and dealing with less than cooperative customers but it paid nice.

Yeah, Mikey thinks it all started there, really, if he got to thinking about it. At that little pizza joint and a water gun fight. 

And as he stood, ready to punch out of work and collect his red metal lunchbox from the side in the little cubby,  Michi pops up just in time, an eager grin creating little lines on her face. It catches Mikey a little off guard, though he should be used to her sneaking up on him by now. 

“Sorry! ” she says, slapping him hard on the shoulder (oh, and in the process she nearly knocks the life out of him and the little pointless badge with his name so nicely inscribed on that customers never actually read when they’d ask “um so what’s your name again, kid?” only to call him ‘waiter’ in five minutes). 

“You’re a ninja, shoulda- like- felt me coming in the wind or whatever it is you guys do,” Michi snorts, tugging Mikey along out the back door to Hueso’s. 

And Mikey doesn’t even stick around to see if someone had already stolen his lunch from inside his box- Frankie liked to do stupid stuff like that- and, with something a little less than dignity- because he totally should’ve sensed her coming, Mikey saunters out behind Michi as she excitedly pounds down the sidewalk and up the avenues.

“We do not ‘feel people sneakin’ up on us in the wind’,” he says around a chuckle, and lumbers up the creaky wooden steps to Junior’s apartment, kicking the compiling stack of mail to the side of the hall and smiles as they both round the corner to see Junior helping his neighbor into her apartment, lugging her bags in.

She’s blind and still thinks she can go grocery shopping; and she pinches Junior’s sweatshirt and calls his face hard when she tries to pinch his cheek.

“I’ll be right out guys,” Junior calls, before disappearing inside the apartment for just a couple minutes, “Just head inside, I’ll be there in a sec!”

It, of course, takes a bit longer than a second, which Mikey and Michi don’t complain about, but as the few minutes turn into close to twenty they almost wonder if they should go rescue their friend from his untimely demise of listening to ‘elderly stories’, Junior texts them.

Psst look out the window

And there he is, tossing a tiny rock up at his living room window from the street two stories below, with a floaty around his waist and swimming trunks and no shirt with a dopey grin flippers on his feet and oh my….this has to be some kind of joke. 

Michi barely suppresses what might just be a pure blend of a giggle, a snort and a groan- but it's funny nonetheless, and theatrical. Mikey stands at the window, grinning wildly down at his friend. 

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’re you doing man?”

“Oh Mikey…” Junior calls from the doorway, raising his arms high above his head in some glorious exaltation, “I’m embracing my adventurous side. You guys aren’t the only ones with crazy ideas.”

“Where are we even gonna go swimming.…” Michi shouts, folding her arms around a pillow as she goes into Junior’s kitchen to grab a bag of chips, “Plus, I don't own a bathing suit. My last one fit like when we were like fourteen.” 

And she turns around on her heels, sauntering casually back to the window, smirking slyly as she hears Junior scamper up to the front door of the apartment building, shouting her name in a breathless laugh. 

“Michi! Mich, c’mon guys! Jus’...just go with me, aight? I found a cool spot, I promise it’s legit.” 

And she didn't mean to make him desperate, really...but Michi could not understand why Junior had wanted to spend so much of his free time with her; it perplexed her almost as much as it amused her. Almost five years of friendship didn’t really change her self doubts. 

And somehow he's already bursting into the apartment, and Mikey’s doubled over laughing. Junior’s always been so ridiculously hopeful for her, his arms raised like a plea and a desperate smile, breathless and begging. 

“So…? What’cha guys think?”

Michi isn't all about doing things right, or the right thing at all. Sometimes she can be dumb and make bad calls. 

This, she figures, looking down at her toes that curl around the loose fringes of that rug, that this is no different. 

_____________________________________

They don’t know where they’re headed; there’s about a thousand ways to go now and Junior, feeling suddenly so spontaneous, didn’t think any of it through. 

And, somehow that’s more comforting than the thought of knowing as they race down 135 and 95, letting the breeze whip into the open windows, sending Michi’s hair into a whirl and Mikey sighs in tranquility. 

They finally come to a stop, the light up ahead transitioning from yellow to red.

Mikey looks over Junior’s way, eyes flickering between his softly closed eyes and the open road ahead of them. And it was something so kindred and so delicate- gazing at his gentle quiescence like that. It makes something like a reckless stillness, a certain way his heart flutters under the white cotton of his t-shirt and it makes Mikey want to do more- for Junior, for Michi. And he’s afraid to tell them, they deserve a whole lot more than what he can give.

The words won’t work, anyway, though. The moment passes, the light turns green and Junior makes a left on the ramp. 

The highway roars with the careless rumbles of motorcycles and endangerment like that; still, in spite of the anxiousness he feels,  it makes Mikey crack a smile, leaning back against his leather-torn seat, glancing over at Michi in the rearview mirror as she lifts her head from the window, staring a hole in him or something with her overbright eyes, turning them back, again, out to the highway.

“They really shouldn’t go so fast….” she says with a breathlike whisper that Mikey almost misses with all the noise; and she pops a sunflower seed into her mouth.

They stopped at a gas station somewhere along the lines between New York and Jersey, stashed the back seat with packs of sunflower seeds, coca cola, and hit the road again. Humans are kinda oblivious, or they’re just too desensitized that the surprise of a Kappa, a mutant turtle and a bone-skeleton guy undisguised is pretty much nonexistent. 

And it’s almost like they could just keep going if they wanted- and never stop.

“But…” Mikey stops and chuckles, resting his forehead on the back of Junior’s seat, and Michi who now takes up the passenger’s seat looks back at Mikey, with a cocky grin that’s always insightful like she’s pulling words out of him without a preamble to.

“But....” he stops again in thought, looking out into the highway, “I couldn’t leave my family…”

Michi thinks about it, her eyes never entirely leaving Mikey’s, and he catches her stare, clearing his throat in the most obnoxious cough. “And I...well, I don’t know if you guys knew this, but um...I’m actually makin’ a motorcycle’a my own!” he brags, voice strained in an awkward way that almost reminded him of Donnie. 

“Really…?” Junior queries with the corners of his lips curling up in slight disbelieving and taunting superiority, his brows rutting where they stay risen, “...you’re making...a motorcycle.” 

Mikey sputters, nodding profusely to that, “Psh..yeah. I am...an’ ya’ll really shouldn’t be actin’ all smug like that ‘cause ya know what?” he nudges Michi.

“What.” her face, unamused, tilts. 

“If I finish it….when I finish it-” he takes a happy breath, a deep sigh that dreams just about a thousand things- too much for his friends to ever know, he thinks, “-I’m gonna take you guys ‘cross the world with it.” It’s a vow that seems intended to be kept and unbroken by all odds. 

Even if Mikey knows it’s probably impossible. He’s got responsibilities here. A city both above and below ground to protect. A...destiny or something, to fulfill. 

And Michi doesn’t know to laugh or just sigh like she’s inclined to when things and concepts and promises and people don’t make sense at all; because why...why would he go...wasting time like that- on her.

“Motorcycles can’t go across the ocean, Orange Spice,” she says instead-

-and laughs raw and raspy, her laughs intertwining with her best friends.

_____________________________________

Cape May, New Jersey

Michi feels she’s spent a lifetime in Junior’s truck, all hot and sweaty and smelling like pickles. 

(“No...guys, look- look, look, see? Ya ain’t gotta eat the pickles- just smear ‘em right on the sandwich- there ya go-!” Junior tossed his head back as Mikey dropped the pickle, slipping right out of his hands as he rubbed it over his sandwich with a frustrated growl. It was completely pointless and pickles were absolutely gross by taste and texture-

-but it wound up being, he won’t ever admit, the best sandwich he ever made.)

And they pulled up on a beach- a beach they didn’t know. In the middle of the night.

They threw a blanket and sat.

Just sat. 

Junior watches, though, as Michi looks out into the ocean, the bright moon- bright and golden yellow- it's light engulfing her almost, it seems. And she keeps watching the waves’ recessions and their ebbing, with a hollowness again. 

Still, there was something mesmerizing about her empty stare, a far off glance into a distant unknown and he wanted- Junior just wants to get any piece of that...understanding. 

“It's beautiful…” Michi says, her voice as broken and shattered as glass left to reflect the grand luminescent rays of something magnificent. She always sounds so joyful, but Junior’s known her long enough to know there’s a hurt buried deep in there. 

It catches him, and a particular ineptitude of speech gets a hold of him, too; he can only blink a few times, ogle a little at her face, too awkward still to say anything.  

Mikey’s unloading the truck, juggling fifty things and making Junior laugh softly at it. 

Still, Michi watches the water. “The waves- it’s they're...in a prison. It’s like every time they come in closer, they get pulled back further, a-and...and then, well’um…” in an instant her voice trails and her eyes glaze over to somewhere else. 

Junior just watches them go. He knows her attachment to water. They’ll stay here as long as she needs. 

And they just sit for a moment. So unique in this quietude that he almost feels half of himself. Smaller and more shy. 

He's about to...to pull her up and drag her into the water and forget this because he wants to give her so much more than hurt and watching her sit and think of the water, and probably, with that, her parents- both Junior and Mikey know it’s her own kind of hurt. 

But Michi’s breath hitches and the eyes fall back to here, back down to something less painful in so many odd ways. 

And Michi releases herself, in the most apportioned way that she gives, her eyes flickering for a moment to Junior, and back down to the cool sand, the quilted blanket, and beach toys with the loose, fringed strings of it.

_____________________________________

“I...hate to be a bother….” Mikey says in a posh, pretentious accent, tottering on the rocks and shells, the shirt he wears drying in the blowing breeze.

Out here, they've found a grove, or a cave far off and secluded, dark and damp and glistening with a thing with a semblance of enigmas. 

She slips back and catches herself, finding footing below and, also, finding his quizzically amused stare. 

“Junior, how are we...when are we getting back?” he asks, eyes lost on the walls of the cave, his fingers lightly grazing them.

Michi snaps her head over to him when there's no noise- none of his muttered curses under his breath or the dumb laugh- Junior just sits, studying the array of seashells they've found and the compiled piles of sand, pressing his knuckles to his lips. 

“Uh, never.” he quips back without lifting his pondering stare at the assortment. 

Michi scoffs, her shoulders dropping, “Skull-cap...” 

I’m thinking of...somethin’...somethin’, somethin’ somethin’,” he starts a melody, mostly in his head probably; Michi doesn’t think it fits to a tune just right, but Mikey joins in on it too, and she just starts laughing.

_____________________________________

It’s the worst best idea ever to be thought of and maybe, perhaps- it makes them all forget their worries for a little bit.

They learn to surf. Try to surf. Fail at surfing. 

Mikey winds up falling over and pulling a joint. 

“Oh...man- I’m definitely not gettin’ up for weeks after all this,” he exclaims through a pained laugh, as they walk side by side, gas station, cotton candy between them. Junior and Michi supporting most of his weight.

They have enough seashells to fill three bags, and six stuffed animals Michi nabbed from a boardwalk game.

_____________________________________

The rising sun cascades as reddish hue over the sand, making them shine in a dull kind of light that they lay on, looking up at the flying kites and the puffing clouds with pleasant simpers- the kind that mean, yeah, okay, I’m happy with this and even now, after all of it (after making sandwiches and sandcastles and surfing and getting lost in a cave looking for exotic shells and the longest drive and everything) they still can’t make sense of it, of the feeling. 

And Mikey tells Michi, with just how open they are now, he figures it is as good as any time to- that she should leave it, leave her hurt here and forget it. 

Forget and start...somewhere else. 

“With us!” he petitions, turning his head in the sand over to her, the grains stuck in her hair, long out of the bun she twisted into place earlier. “You...you could come and...an’ stay or...or, Michi I dunno but’cha gotta get out sometime soon…”

His words break like the desperation his face carries; the silence falls over them again and Michi watches one of those pointless blimps fly overhead, ready for another day at the beach, her eyes empty shimmer in the rising sun. 

“I know….” she starts in a deep breath, “Mikey, I know you...you and your brothers- they...you guys do so much. And you save, you’re...you saved a whole ton of people but…” she turns her eyes into his, and he sees every nightmare through hers, through her eyes, “You can’t save everyone. I think...I think you know that.” she says.

So why do you keep trying with me? she doesn’t. 

But Mikey grabs her hand and she can tell when his heart flutters and his face flushes without at all having to spare him her eyes. And, now, she gets it.

“‘S ‘cause...well, I dunno…” he smiles sheepishly. 

“Yes...you do,” Michi offers one back, wishing Junior would wake up already and tell them it’s time to go, “But you shouldn’t.”

And they drop the mystery for now and all the unconventionally odd and terribly obscure feelings that went in tow, Michi breaking off a chunk of Junior’s unfinished and kinda stale cotton candy she snagged, sliding it into her mouth while they look up at the blimps and clouds and setting sun.

“Ya gonna pay for that?” Junior asks, standing over his two friends, his smile brighter and just as beautiful as the sun. 

“Nah, I’m good, Bone-boy,” she says, staring still at the morning sky, spawning a laugh, genuine and, all the very same, brittle. 

_____________________________________

In about ten days she gets a bill of two dollars in her mailbox and a seashell necklace, her best friend’s initials carved into a shell. 

[unsurepotatohooman]

Two Birds

Fandom : Sander Sides

Characters : Deceit, Virgil, Remus, Patton

Pairings : Platonic Anxceit, Demus and past platonic, now toxic (?) Moceit

Summary : This fic revolves around how Virgil eventually leaves the "dark sides".

Warnings : Swearing :P

A/N : Wow this is my first fic that I am posting! I worked on this for two hours a few days ago after I finally started to crawl out of my writers block. The lyrics I am using is from a song called Two Birds by Regina Spektor. The plot used in this video is heavily inspired by an animatic by teardroppeddew on YouTube! Their animatic is W O N D E R F U L so please check it out!! Here is the link : https://youtu.be/8S6mWMgMqOo I hope you enjoy!!

Work :

Two birds on a wire

Anxiety and Deceit sat together in the dark sides commons. No one really came out in the open very much. The “dark sides”, so their title states, tended to spend time in the shadows; however, the anxious and deceitful sides had grown closer over the years.

One tries to fly away

“-and then we can use that to our advantage. We could finally be heard, Verge!”

And the other watches him close from that wire

The anxious trait sat atop the counter watching as Deceit paced back and forth in the living room, making sure to avoid the dead animal that was left behind by Remus. Deceit was gesturing as he spoke, he cape flapping with the motion. This is how they spent their time together, plotting.

He says he wants to as well

“That could work. We just need to keep Thomas safe.” Anxiety said with his head in his hand that was propped up on his knee.

But he is a liar

Little did they know that Virgil would be heard more than all of them.

I’ll believe it all

“Virgil, are you alright?”

“Dee, I-I don’t know what to do.”

Virgil shook as he spoke. Deceit swept him inside his room and shut the door.

“Tell me what happened.”

There’s nothing I won’t understand

“I’m one of the core sides now.”

I’ll believe it all

He wasn’t expecting that. Virgil clung to him as he sobbed.

“H-hey, calm down Verge. It’s okay.”

I won’t let go of your hand

“Virgil, look at me.”

Deceit guided the anxious traits eyes to meet his own.

“This is a good thing! You can keep Thomas safe and be heard. The rest of us can’t do that.”

“B-but I have to leave the subconscious.” Virgil sniffed.

Damn. There was always a but.

“I’ll still be here for you Verge, I promise. Just come back and visit us whenever.”

As he spoke, Deceit avoided the dread forming in the pit of his stomach. He focused instead on combing his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“Everything will be fine.”

He didn’t even know that the phrase that slipped between his teeth was a lie.

Two birds on a wire

Deceit sat with his head in his hands; his hat lay close beside him.

“Hello~ Dee!” Remus popped up as he made his way into the commons waving his morning star behind him.

Deceit didn’t even bother to look up at the creative facet.

“Still feeling low?” Remus asked.

“No.” The lie slipped through his teeth.

One says c’mon on and the other says “I’m tired”

“Come on! If Virgil the racoon can be heard why can’t I!?”

“Not now, Remus.” Deceit sighed. They had been having this conversation for weeks now. It always ended in the same argument.

“No! You keep putting this off! I can’t take it Dee!”

The sky is overcast and I’m sorry

“Remus enough!”

Remus froze at the shouting. Deceit turned to face him; his snake eye glowed a dangerous yellow color.

“I will let you know when Thomas is ready. We can’t do this now.”

One more or one less

“Fine! Keep me hidden away!”

“Remus-”

It was no use. The creative side sunk out behind the couch. Deceit walked over to it and peered behind the furniture; sometimes Remus tended to pull pranks and just lay on the floor after pretending to sink out. This however, was no joke.

Nobody’s worried

Deceit sunk out back to his room and tried to ignore the tears streaming down his face, the way his fist clenched by his sides or the way his chest squeezed painfully. The yellow glow faded from his eye.

“Everything’s fine.”

I’ll believe it all~

Virgil hadn’t visited in weeks and Remus had barely spoke to Deceit. Everything seemed to be darker in this side of the mindscape. They all kept to themselves far more and the tension was high.

Deceit sat on his bed while he petted his snake. The green and yellow scales that matched his own glimmered in the light from the stars of desire that floated about the room. Thoughts filtered through his mind; some were from Thomas and others were his own.

There’s nothing I won’t understand

A knock on the door snapped him back to reality. He lied the snake down on the mattress as it released a small his of displeasure. With a flick of his wrist the door was unlocked.

“You may not come in.”

The door opened to reveal Remus with a solemn expression over his face.

I’ll believe it all~

“Hello Remus.” Deceit said shortly, though his eyes swam with curiosity. “What do you desire?”

“Dee-” Remus croaked out. “I-I’m sorry.”

I won’t let go of your hand

The pair ended up on Deceit’s bed; Remus on top of Deceit. The creative side was holding on tightly to his shirt as he wailed about all the things that were going through his mind; horrible things. The deceitful facet normally kept Remus from reeling too far; though, their argument prevented him from doing so.

“I’ve got you Rem.” Deceit said softly as he stroked his hair.

“Please d-don’t leave again.”

Deceit slowly slid his hand into Remus’ and squeezed it gently.

“I won’t; promise.”

Two birds of a feather

Deceit was once again sitting in his room filtering through Thomas’ desires. Some of them were simple enough; the want for pizza or to watch more Steven Universe. Others; however, were much more complicated such as the desire for a stable relationship or skipping out on important events. Morality stood in the way of the more extreme desires with his ideas on rights and wrongs. Deceit scoffed at the thought of him.

To think at one point he used to be close with Patton.

They used to be brothers.

He quickly shook the thought from his mind. There was no need to focus on his own desires right now.

Say that they’re always gonna stay together

“I love you Dee Dee!” Patton squealed as he embraced the side in a hug.

Deceit couldn’t help but smile. In the warmth and comfort of their cat and snake onesies, he responded,

“I love you too, Pat.”

But one’s never going to let go of that wire

“Dee stop! Thomas can’t lie! It will hurt them!”

The two boys stood as they shouted with each other in the mindscape commons.

“Patton,” Deceit’s voice was tired. “If he doesn’t, he will get in trouble! Just listen to me for once!”

He says that he will

“I am!” Patton yelled as tears stream down his face. “What you are saying is wrong!”

But he is a lair

“Dee.”

Deceit jumped at the voice. He was so caught up in his own desires he didn’t notice that Remus was there.

“Remus! God, what do you need?”

There was a pause.

“Virgil’s here.”

Two birds on a wire~

The three boys stood in the “dark sides” common room.

“Well, look who decided to finally show up.” Deceit starts.

Virgil rolled his eyes and shoved his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets; purple hoodie pockets.

“What’s with the new getup?” Remus asked as he gestured with his morning star. “Did you all get like superhero outfits or something?”

“No, we didn’t.”

Something was wrong. Something was… different.

One tries to fly away and the other

“I need you two to stop messing with Thomas.”

Remus’ jaw dropped as Deceit’s clenched.

“Excuse me, what now?”

Watches him close from that wire

“You two are doing him more harm than good!” Virgil yelled as his voice became distorted.

“NO! We agreed that we should all be heard! Don’t you remember what it’s like to be like us or has all of this ‘light side’ stuff just gone to your head!” Deceit snapped.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t be heard if you are just going to hurt Thomas!”

“Maybe you should just go back to all those stuck up dumb asses and leave us alone! We don’t have to listen to a bitch like you!” Remus shouted.

“Fine! Maybe I will!”

With one final glare, Virgil was gone.

He says he wants to as well, but he is a lair

“I ‘ought to go kick his ass right now!”

“Remus, no.”

“W-what?! What do you mean no!?” Remus asked as he gestured wildly about. “He just fucking told us that we are hurting Thomas!”

“And there is no need to go punching him in the gut for it, that will only hurt Thomas.”

“This is BULLSHIT! B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T! I’m out of here!”

And with that, Remus was gone too.

Two birds on a wire

Anger. That was the emotion he felt as the two sides left. He felt anger, confusion and guilt.

Felt.

Feelings.

Emotions…

“Patton.”

One tries to fly away and the other-

Deceit charges into Patton’s room earning a gasp from the moral side.

“Dee! What are you- are you crying?”

Deceit snarled as he stomped over and picked up the moral side by his shirt; his snake eye was gleaming so bright the light side had to squint to look at him.

“Let’s play a game, shall we?”

[notamyope]

“I love you”

The words slip through Kara’s lips as naturally as breathing and without reason, but for the smallest of reasons.

She says them to anyone and everyone, for anything and everything. She’ll say them about actions, she’ll say them to strays, to strangers. More often to her friends. Most often to her sister.

And when she says them to Lena, at first it strikes a chord - a tuneful vibration that hums at her core in happiness. Though, she then remembers that this is Kara, and that it’s just Kara being... Kara.

So Lena smiles, laughter masking the light coloring of her cheeks and says, “You say that to everyone who gives you food.”

Kara ducks her head, embarrassed at having been caught. Lena shakes her head in amusement, having witnessed just that the night before when they went out to dinner, and Kara had all but said those three words to their waiter after their food was brought out. Followed by another grand proclamation toward the chef for making such a delicious meal.

“But I love you differently.” Kara claims with a wide grin.

Lena tries not to allow the butterflies to reign in her chest, for her heart to not quicken in beats, but she still can’t help the smile that stretches across her cheeks. “Eat your food casanova.”

It happens when they send each other late night texts, Kara bidding her a, “Goodnight, I love you.”

Lena always sends back a heart or smiley face.

She says it in person, when they have movie night at Kara’s place with pizza and potstickers, and the words are whispered into the night before Lena leaves to go back to her own place.

Kara says it when Lena rambles or rants about work. Hands waving wildly in the air as she goes off tangent, only to freeze as she awkwardly laughs with a blush on her face when the words slip out again. Accompanied with an adoring look that glows from Kara’s eyes, and Lena’s heart doesn’t stand a chance, stuttering like an old car failing to shift gears uphill.

... She says it again, right before everything comes crashing down, as she unbuttons her shirt to reveal the insignia on her shirt, her hands reaching up to slowly take her glasses off - just moments after Lena huffs about her annoyance at Supergirl once more.

And again, after a heart felt apology when she flies up to Lena’s balcony only to find the door locked.

Supergirl betrayed her.

Her mind reels.

Kara Danvers is Supergirl.

Her mind screams.

Kara Danvers betrayed her.

Her heart cries.

Kara Danvers lied to her.

And Lena can’t help but think that it’s a lie. Everything that was Kara Danvers is a lie. Every word, every phrase, every laugh that had slipped through Kara’s lips as Kara Danvers was a lie. Every little “I love you” that was sent, a lie.

Lena’s heart aches in protest, but her mind hardens in resolve as she schools her features with coldness every moment her and Supergirl’s eyes meet.

She continues hearing the three words however.

She hears Supergirl say it during a press conference, leveling it to the city as a whole.

She hears Supergirl declare her love for the Planet Earth, not as some dramatic revelation during a massive fight, but when volunteering her time to clean up the beach.

She hears Supergirl say it to anyone and everyone at the DEO for any and every reason; agents assisting in the capture of the weekly villain, someone bringing in extra food just for her, to being invited out (though always ends with a decline), to being shown videos of kittens and puppies.

She doesn’t hear it directed at her again, but every time Supergirl says those three words, Lena remembers Kara Danvers.

Which is probably why, when she sees Supergirl resting her head in her arms on a table, her suit still filthy from the fights of the week, Lena can’t help but blurt out in a soft voice, “Shouldn’t you be at home, sleeping?”

Supergirl jumps out of her seat, nearly crashing into the ceiling as she turns wide, panicky eyes toward Lena. “Oh, it’s just you Lena.” She says in near relief, just barely relaxing her tense shoulders before floating back down.

Her cape is gross, all grimy and oily from a fight two days ago, and Lena can’t help but wrinkle her nose is disgust.

Supergirl seems to have noticed, as a tired smile makes its’ way across her sullen face. “I haven’t had time to get it cleaned.”

“You could get it cleaned while you sleep.” Lena points out.

Supergirl just, shrugs... her shoulders seemingly heavy with defeat. “Haven’t had much time for that either.”

And Lena just doesn’t understand. Before, Kara Danvers seemingly had all the time in the world for herself. Before Lena knew her as Supergirl, Kara Danvers always made time for little things and did things to seize the day, while Supergirl was seemingly always on television to save the day. Now...

Now that Lena knows Kara Danvers is Supergirl, it seems as though Kara Danvers has disappeared into Supergirl and Lena just doesn’t understand.

Maybe Kara Danvers really was just a lie.

A station wide alarm sounds, and Supergirl’s shoulders sag for a bit before squaring up. “Up, up and away, I guess...”

Lena’s heart jumps up into her throat at the sound of Supergirl’s tired voice, her hand coming up to push at absent glasses out of reflex, only to shift and rub the sleep out of eyes. Lena swallows the feeling down and away, her mind telling her to keep her guard up. “Right...” She says instead.

“Have a goodnight, Lena. I-“ Supergirl catches herself, and Lena catches her stuttering heart to calm down. “Goodnight.” Supergirl repeats before dashing off.

Later that week, Lena tells herself that everyone at the DEO could use a little pick me up. After all, that entire month has been fight after fight, clean up after clean up, and overall just non stop working. She feels sympathetic, knowing the feeling of pulling multiple all nighters in a row.

Everyone could use some junk food.

So she lays out boxes upon boxes of pizza and potstickers to the gratitude of nearly every DEO agent.

And if Alex shoots her a knowing look, Lena pretends not to notice.

And when Supergirl comes stumbling in after a fight, eyes lighting up in delight upon the sight of her favorite foods as she proclaims - “Whoever did this, I’m in love with you,” before stuffing her face with a wide grin, Lena pretends that the butterflies in her chest don’t flutter.

It’s harder to pretend that Kara Danvers is a lie however, when Kara Danvers, the reporter, stands in the crowd asking Lena Luthor a question with eyes looking up at Lena as though she were the city’s hero.

It’s harder to pretend that Kara Danvers isn’t just Kara Danvers the journalist, when Lena reads an article with a “direct quote” from the superhero to her amusement.

It’s harder to pretend that Lena isn’t still in love with Kara Danvers, her friend, her crush, her hero - when Kara still does Kara Danvers things as Supergirl.

But that’s the thing isn’t it? Kara Danvers isn’t just Kara Danvers now.

Kara Danvers is Supergirl.

And Lena only sees Supergirl, when she just wants Kara Danvers.

But while it’s Supergirl that saves Lena again after another attack on her life, it’s a distraught Kara Danvers hovering over her that Lena wakes up to.

“Lena!” Kara claims, jumping out of her chair. She’s still in her super suit, her emblem dirty with soot, but with glasses perched on her nose. It makes for an odd picture, seeing Kara in suit and glasses just like that moment before she revealed herself to Lena. “I was- How are you feeling?”

“... Like I inhaled a lungful of poisonous gas that lit up my insides.” Lena croaks.

Kara chokes out a watery laugh, relief showing through her teary eyes. “Y-Yeah. That’s-That’s about right.” She nods in assent.

And... Lena just stares at Kara. She stares at the lone tear that slowly makes its’ way to spill out of the corner before Kara reaches up to wipe it away, skewing her glasses a bit before she hastily fixes it. She stares for her a little while longer, remembering - “What about-“

“J’onn is taking care of them.” Kara answers, “I wanted to- I mean- He,” Her eyes dart to the side, as though ashamed at having slipped up as she twiddles her thumbs. “He wanted me to make sure you were okay.”

Lena stares at Kara, slowly nodding in understanding, when she really just doesn’t understand. Why would Supergirl blantantly lie to her again? Why would Supergirl abandon her duties when she had been taking up each and every single one that came up? Why would Supergirl want to make sure Lena was okay? Why would Supergirl-

Her eyes grow heavy and a deep sigh escapes from Lena’s nose in exhaustion. She doesn’t want to think about Supergirl. She doesn’t want to think about how Kara Danvers is also Supergirl. She just wants-

Kara shuffles again, fidgeting with the thumbsleeves of her suit. “Do you- I can leave.” She says, abruptly.

Lena finds her heart jumping out of her chest and says, “Wait-!” Before her mind can catch up.

Kara turns, hesitation in her eyes as she glances between Lena and the door, trying to choose whether to stay or go.

And Lena is caught between choosing between either her head or her heart, knowing no matter which one she chooses - it would tear her up inside.

Kara seems to understand, wordlessly walking back to her chair and gently perching herself on it. She tiredly smiles, and Lena can see that her eyes no longer holding that familiar wrinkle behind those familiar frames.

Lena reminds herself that this isn’t just Kara anymore... That this isn’t just Supergirl anymore.

Kara is also Supergirl.

Supergirl, who was one of Lena’s friends, but also Kara Danvers, who was her first friend at the city.

Supergirl, who saved Lena’s life, but also Kara Danvers, who is Lena’s hero.

Supergirl, who Lena used to admire, but also Kara Danvers who Lena looks at in complete admiration.

Supergirl, who Lena had crushed on, but also Kara Danvers who Lena is in love with.

Supergirl, who belongs to everyone and anyone, is also Kara Danvers.... Who Lena had wanted to just be hers and hers alone.

“I-“ Kara stutters, shifting in her seat as she tries to determine whether or not she should say what she seems to want to say, “You know I- what I said. A while ago? When I told you I would keep you safe? No matter what?”

Lena doesn’t say anything, though her heart stops.

“I-I meant that. I mean it.” Kara emphasizes, “A-And I know, you need - you need space. And time. And I respect that! But I-“ She stutters, trying to find the words to portray what she wants to say. “What I said before. That was a lie.” She finally settles on.

And Lena slowly turns to Kara in disbelief.

Kara seems to have realized her mistake and hurriedly backtracks, “I mean. With J’onn. He uh- of course he was worried about you. But I meant uh-“ She stops and takes a deep, shaky breath, before slowly allowing herself to exhale. “It was me.” She says quietly, “I- I was the one. That wanted to make sure. That you were okay, I mean.”

“Oh.” Lena dumbly says, her heart bursting into thousands of butterflies as her mind is struck silent for once. “Thank you...”

Kara shifts in her seat once again, straightening her glasses before fiddling with her sleeves in contemplation. She finally straightens up, and gently reaches for Lena’s hand to grab hold of her attention, and Lena is too tired to even attempt to pull away. “You... I’m sorry I ever hurt you Lena.” She begins remorsefully, “I never intended to... to keep it a secret from you, but I thought that was what I had to do to... to keep you safe.” She pauses, her lips twisting in consideration before her shoulders sag, “But you deserve to know the truth at all times. And I’m sorry that... that I lied to you. I just.... I was selfish in thinking that I knew what was best. I should have known better, because that’s not what-“ She shakes her head, “I love you, Lena Luthor. And you’re worth more than the effort I should be giving you.”

Lena’s heart doesn’t stand a chance upon hearing those words, soaring high and over riding anything her mind might be screaming at her. But-

“You say that to everyone.” Lena near whispers, trying to will her hammering heart to gently come down.

Kara scrunches her face, as if trying to remember before she ruefully laughs while shaking her head, “It’s not the same... I love you differently. I-“ She stops, breathless as though she remembered something. “If I had to choose between you and the world I.....” she trails off, not knowing how to finish...

Lena’s heart seizes at that proclamation. And it’s more than she can handle for the day. But-

Supergirl belongs to everyone and anyone.

And Lena wouldn’t bring herself to make Kara Danvers choose.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Kara says, “Or give me an answer. I understand.”

Lena stares at Kara, eyes searching her face for answers to unspoken questions. Until finally, just like that, everything clicks into place.

She’s not sure when, but Kara has always loved her. Even as Supergirl, she has loved Lena.

And she finds ways to show it, to say it whenever she can. From her gratitude of food, to good nights, to making time away from Supergirl to just be Kara Danvers...

Kara Danvers was always there for Lena.

Kara Danvers was always taking time off and away from being Supergirl for Lena.

And Supergirl lied, for Lena and her safety.

Lena tears up, looking at Kara in newfound adoration.

God... She may need time- They may need time to sort things out between them... But it would be worth it, she knows. She knows and her mind stutters, her heart screams.

She’s in love with Kara Danvers; everyone’s and anyone’s Supergirl.

[bittysvalentines]

I’ll Talk Bromance (if I can get it)

From: @leftwinglibrarian

To: @redneterp

Rating: Teen. Tags - Holsom, friends to lovers, mutual pining, Valentine's Day, canon-typical language

A message to your recipient - Happy Valentine's Day @redneterp! I loved getting your request, because it was almost exactly like the one I'd submitted! I felt like the world just needs more Holsom content, so that's what I went with. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for giving me the chance to write something for this pairing I love so much!

“HOLSTER? ARE YOU WEARING A TIE OR ..” Ransom’s query is cut off by the sound of the doorbell. “Shit. CAN ONE OF YOU GUYS GET THAT?”

Apparently not, if the repeated ringing interspersed with door knocking is any indication. Ransom would grab it but he’s still standing there shirtless, which seems OK for the Haus but somehow not for Haus 2.0. Maybe this is the moment he achieves actual adulthood, he muses to himself as he grabs a dark red V-neck sweater from his drawer and pulls it on as he heads to the door.

“On my way, just one sec!” he calls out to the maniac who seems intent on knocking down their door.

He finally gets his sweater on, muttering under his breath about the uselessness of his roommates. Honestly, what is the point of living with four other people? Can’t one of them help out a guy who doesn’t want to answer the door half naked? Though to be fair, Shitty and Lardo aren’t home, because they are spending the holiday at a romantic B&B in Rockport. They both made a big deal about how they were staying “ironically” but Rans and Holster aren’t buying it. And their other roommate spends all of her time either out of the house or holed up in her room, so Rans hasn’t actually seen her in … well, it’s been a while. And Holster … 

Holster is standing at the front door holding a bouquet of red roses and a giant heart-shaped box of chocolates.

“What the hell Holtzy?”

“And a Happy Valentine’s Day to you as well, Justin. May I come in?”

“Dude, you live here. What are you doing?”

“I am being a gentleman and picking up my date,” Holster says, brushing past him. “Are you ready?”

“Again, why are you picking me up? WE LITERALLY LIVE TOGETHER.”

“Bro, can’t a bro do bromance right and pick up his Brolentine’s Day date in style?”

“Brolentine’s????”

“OK, I concede that ‘Galentine’s’ works better, but I feel like you are focusing too much on the details here and missing the spirit of this holiday. Are you ready for the most Bromantic evening of your life?”

“Sure Leslie Knope,” Ransom says with a smile, glancing down at his outfit. “If you think this is OK? Wasn’t sure how dressed up we needed to get.”

“Looks great, I’m about the same,” Holster says, gesturing down to his dark jeans and a navy blue half-zip sweater. “I’m gonna grab a vase for these while you get your shoes on.”

“Wait, are we doing gifts now? Hang on,” Ransom jogs back to his room. Holster may think he’s gone all out, but two can play at this game.

Which … it started out as a game, but it’s gotten a little intense, or at least it feels that way to Ransom. It had all started a few weeks ago when the group chat started talking about Valentine’s Day. That’s when Shitty had brought up their “ironic” V-Day plans, and Jack was being super cagey, so chances are he’s got something pretty epic planned. Ransom and Holster were the only ones without real plans, since he and March had finally called it quits a few months ago after trying the long-distance thing. Holster hasn’t really dated anyone more than casually for, well ... he’s always been more into hookups than relationships. But then so has Ransom, since the breakup, so who is he to talk?

The team had resorted to those chirps that have started to make Ransom blush a bit, about how the two of them are soulmates and will have an epic Palentine’s Day, etc. And of course they had to do it when Holster had just been on a “How I Met Your Mother” kick that lead to him posting at least 17 different “Challenge Accepted” memes. That combined with his always ardent love for Leslie Knope was enough to get Holster swearing that this was going to be the most epic Galentine’s Day - or, apparently, Brolentine’s -  either of them had ever experienced.

Somehow the evening had morphed from beer, pizza and Mario Kart to actual PLANS, with Holster taking on dinner and Rans in charge of the activity. Of course Shitty’s encouragement to “fuck heteronormativity, two bros can celebrate their love” had only upped the ante, and now Holster was picking him up even though they still live together and bringing him gifts … At least Holster won’t win that one.

Ransom returns to the living room where Holster has managed to find something to serve as a vase and hands him a red gift bag, complete with heart-covered tissue paper.

“Rans, are these HIS AND HIS BOXER BRIEFS? ‘Swawesome. We are totes wearing these and doing some snuggling later.”

“Sure bro, of course,” Ransom says, ducking to tie his shoe and hide his blush. That was of course what he’d been planning when he ordered them, but hearing Holster say it, well. It’s just A LOT.

Honestly, ALL of Ransoms feelings about Holster have been a lot lately. He’s always thought his best friend was handsome and funny and talented and basically just the best person ever, but since things started going south with March, those feelings have somehow morphed into something more. He finds himself noticing how Holster’s singing in the shower sets the tone for his day, or how much he misses living in each other’s pockets now that they have separate bedrooms and work in different departments at the consulting firm. Or how perfect Holster’s arms and shoulders are and wondering what they’d feel like boxing him in against the bed as Holster looms over him. And that’s not how you are supposed to feel about your best bro. So Ransom will endure this night of flowers and chocolates and fake hand holding, and he’ll stay chill, and their friendship will be fine.

He stands up to find Holster holding the door.

“My lord, your chariot awaits.”

That earns an eye roll from Ransom as he heads to the door to grab the bag full of cold weather gear he’s packed for their activity, but he lets Holster hold the door and they pile into the car, headed out for the mystery dinner Holster has planned.

Turns out Holster did a pretty damn good job. He might end up winning this thing. Not that there is an actual winner or anything, but fondue was a boss choice. Anything that features the words “beer cheese” is going to be amazing. But served with a nice Chianti, because they are grownups and this is romantic. Still, turns out beer cheese is incredible on pretty much everything, from apples to shrimp to steak tips to the piece of baguette Holster is holding out to him across the table.

“Oh my God, Rans, you have to try this. This is my new favorite combination of carbs and cheese. It is the best thing in my life besides your smiling face.”

“Whoa, dramatic much, Holtz? Besides, you say that about pretty much every combination of carbs and cheese,” Ransom jokes, trying not to let Holster’s hyperbolic talk set his heart racing. He is your best friend, that’s IT.

“I really mean it this time. And if you don’t shut the fuck up and eat it right now and allow even one precious drop of this delicious perfection to escape I will never forgive you.”

They exchange a smile with their eyes as Ransom opens his mouth and allows Holster to feed him, because bromance. He starts to chew and can’t help but let out a moan. He’s already so full but he’s going to have to eat at least a full loaf of bread now because that was fucking delicious.

He opens his eyes to find Holster with a weird look on his face, one Ransom can’t quite interpret. It disappears instantly when Holster realizes Rans is back with him, and they continue on, scraping the bottom of the fondue pot to get every last bit of the melty cheese.

They move on to dessert, Ransom allowing Holster to feed him a brownie bite covered in chocolate and returning the favor with a bit of cheesecake. Ransom could sit here all night, eating delicious food and listening to Holster talk, using his hands to gesture wildly. Ransom probably shouldn’t find it so endearing, especially since he almost hit that waitress who was carrying a full fondue pot, but he lets himself enjoy the moment. The check has come and gone and their feet are casually touching under the table. Holster’s hair looks golden in the dim lighting of the restaurant. The Boston skyline twinkles in the background, and this truly is the best Valentine’s Day Ransom can remember spending.

He’s brought back to reality by a high-pitched squeal and someone yelling “Yes! Oh my god, Tom! Yes!” All heads in the restaurant turn to see the newly engaged couple kiss, earning cheers from the crowd. It’s enough to break the spell.

“So, you ready to head out?”

“Oh dude. I literally can’t imagine doing anything other than going home and lying around in front of the TV with my pants unbuttoned while I digest. Please tell me you aren’t making us go to one of those trampoline places or something.”

“Nope. You killed it at dinner, but now it’s my turn.”

They head to the car and bundle up, Ransom handing out hand warmers before shouldering the remaining items in the bag. He’s glad the restaurant isn’t too far away, since parking in Boston is hell on a good day, and tonight is sure to be even worse.

“Do I get to see what’s in the bag?” Holster asks as they head out to walk the few blocks. It’s cold, but not too bad, and clear — a perfect winter night.

“Nope, it would spoil the surprise,” Ransom says, pulling the bag a little tighter. “You’ll guess it soon, probably before we get there.”

He does start throwing out a few guesses as they near Boston Common (“Dude, is there some special V-Day Freedom Trail thing? Do you think I’m Jack Zimmermann?”), but it’s not until they can actually see the Frog Pond that Holster realizes what the night has in store.

“Skating? That is some next level bromance, taking it back to the place we first met. Can’t believe I didn’t see this coming.”

And that … may have been exactly what Ransom was thinking, but it seems incredibly cheesy now that they’re here. He’s seriously having second thoughts about this plan. Plus the hordes of couples holding hands and the fairy lights strung through the trees are making this infinitely more romantic than any of the places they have skated. He and Holster have shared so many cellies, helmet kisses and bear hugs on the ice, but being surrounded by couples holding hands on a sheet of ice — which will always mean Holster, no matter where it might be — well, that might just be too much.

“It’s super cheesy, bro. I’m sorry. We can bail and go home and binge something, it’s fine. I just … I thought it would be funny if we came here ironically or whatever, you know?” Ransom can tell he’s not sounding convincing, especially to Holster, who knows him too well. But he’s looking around the pond instead of at Ransom, and doesn’t seem to mind the level of schmaltz surrounding them.

“Ironcially? Hell no. This is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. We are totally doing this. Did you bring our skates? Because I am not putting my foot in some stanky rental.”

Ransom’s feeling reassured enough to feign shock at the very idea of getting rentals, and they lace up and pay the fee before taking to the pond, doing lazy loops that remind Justin of the early days of their friendship, lazily passing pucks back and forth as they stayed after practice talking for hours, discovering all they had in common.

It must be weighing on Holster’s mind as well, because he speaks up voice low where he’s skating too close to Ransom, hedged in by all the other couples on the ice.

“Did you ever think we’d be here? That first day we met?”

“I mean, not exactly,” and something in the air is making Ransom’s breath come a little faster and convincing him to be more vulnerable than he thinks is actually a good idea. “But I figured out pretty early on that you were someone I wanted to be a part of my life for a long time.”

“I knew. That day,” Holster says, still quiet in a way he rarely gets that lets Ransom know these moments are to be treasured. “I just like, we met and I just KNEW that you were going to be important to me.”

Ransom realizes that they’ve slowed down and are leaning into one another, so close they are breathing each other’s air. Which, it’s not like that’s anything new for them, but this feels somehow different. The frosty air seems charged, thick between them. Ransom is just starting to question whether Holster might be feeling the same, when someone slams into him from behind, sending him crashing into Holster’s strong arms. It’s only due to Holster’s height and strength that they don’t go crashing down.

“WATCH OUT, ASSHOLE!” Holster yells over his shoulder, as he helps steady Ransom. “What a dick. Can you believe that guy? You OK?”

Luckily the shove was enough to shatter the moment, and Ransom has recovered his wits along with his balance.

“Bro, I’m good. Thanks though,” he gives Holster a soft punch on the arm, shouting after him. “YOU COULD DO BETTER MISS. I MEAN REALLY, YOU COULD DO SO MUCH BETTER.”

They start skating again, laughing together, best bros once again in a sea of lovers, when Holster’s face lights up.

“Dude, you are so buying me hot chocolate.”

“Are you even serious right now? Do you realize how much chocolate we just ate?”

“Feel the bromance in the air, Justin. That calls for some fucking hot chocolate and snuggling.”

So Ransom forks over the money for hot chocolate (least he could do, after Holster shelled out big time for dinner), and they sit down on a bench, sitting close and quiet the way they normally only do at home in front of the TV or after they’ve been drinking. That’s happening less and less these days, with separate bedrooms and no kegsters to get them schwasted and keep Ransom from climbing up to the top bunk.

The cocoa is too hot to drink, and the rink is getting even more crowded, so they pack up their skates and sip as they walk back to the car, the talk going in a million directions just like it always does, able to follow one another’s mental leaps in a way that wouldn’t make sense to most people. They get in the car and and head home, but instead of pulling in the back, Holster parks out on the street.

“Can I walk you to the door?” Holster asks, turning to look at Ransom.

“Holster. YOU. LIVE. HERE.”

“I know. But can’t a bro try to treat his bro right after an epic V-Day?”

“Sure,” Ransom sighs and thunks his head back on the rest as Holster gets out of the car. “Bros for life, right?”

Holster is still playing the game and comes around to open Ransom’s door which is next level, even for him. They walk up to the door in silence, Ransom struggling to control his emotions. He’s your best friend. Don’t fuck this up. He tries to shake it off and find the joviality from earlier in the evening, which he can tell is a mistake as soon as he opens his mouth. But even as he’s telling himself to shut the fuck up, he hears the words coming out.

“So, does this mean I get a goodnight kiss?” he tries for a laugh but it sounds strangled, and Holster is being silent and Holster isn’t laughing, why isn’t he laughing?

Ransom realizes Holster has stopped walking and he turns back to find him looking absolutely shattered. Does Holster know? Did he take this too far?

“Rans, I … I can’t do this, OK?”

“Holster, what … what do you mean? I’m sorry, OK? I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t joke about that shit. I just … it was a stupid thing to say, OK?” he moves to pull Holster into a hug, and for the first time Ransom can remember, Holster pulls away.

“I didn’t realize you knew. I’m sorry. I’ll drive up to Samwell and crash there for the night, and we can figure it out tomorrow.” Holster won’t look at him, and he starts to shuffle back to the car, and he just looks so small and miserable and Holster should never feel that way and it’s Ransom who made him look like that.

“Adam, no. It was my fault, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he calls after him, grabbing Holster’s arm and turning him around so they are face to face. “I just … I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t?” Holster is looking at him incredulously. “Dude, I’m … Justin. I’m in love with you.”

Ransom can’t help the gasp that escapes from his lips. He feels himself sway a bit, feels the panic rise. This is what he’s been wanting for so long, including Holster’s strong arms wrapping around him, but Holster is still talking to him, soothing, holding him close but rubbing his back to calm the panic attack he can tell Ransom is trying to fight off.

“I love you, but I just can’t do this again. After we made out that time sophomore year, I just … Rans, that almost killed me. I just can’t do it again. And you deserve better than a creepy roommate who is mooning over you, so I can move out. I still want to be your friend, but I understand if you don’t want that.”

Ransom is still trying to get himself under control, and words are a struggle.

“I … I want. I wanted tonight to be real.”

“Justin … please,” and he’s cold as Holster is pulling slightly away, looking at Ransom with the saddest eyes Ransom has ever seen. “Please don’t say that when you don’t mean it. It hurts too much.”

“No, Holster … Adam, I. I’ve wanted it for a while now. It’s part of why I broke it off with March. I just … I thought it was just me.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No. No, I wouldn’t. Holster, I would never …” Ransom still can’t think of the right words to fix this, to let Holster know how he feels, so he does the only thing he can think of and pulls him into a kiss.

Holster is tense at first, surprised, but as Ransom keeps kissing him, trying to express what panic isn’t letting him say, he feels Holster relax into it, his arms sliding up to hold Ransom and opening his mouth to let the kiss deepen. Ransom is unsure how long it lasts, could be seconds, also seems like years, and they pull apart breathless, foreheads resting together, gulping down the cold air.

“So,” Holster says, still a bit breathless as his arms slide down to take Ransom’s hands in his. “You’re telling me that we have basically been pining away for each other for MONTHS now?”

“Uh, I guess so,” Ransom can feel himself beaming, panic sliding away as he lets himself realize that this moment is actually happening. “Should have told you, we missed so much time.”

“Bro, we still have time,” Holster says, pulling their joined hands up to his mouth and cupping them to his face, turning to kiss Ransom’s palm. “What do you say we turn this into a real Valentine’s Day?”

“Dude, only if we put on our matching boxers.”

“We can put them on, I’m just not promising they’ll stay on,” Holster says, wagging his eyebrows as he unlocks the door and they tumble inside, kissing as they move down the hallway.

Ransom loves him so fucking much.

“Hey Holster? I love you, too.”

“Bro. ‘Swawesome. Me too, obvs. Now, the big question … your room, or mine?”

Ransom drags Holster after him, wondering if it’s too soon to make one room “theirs.”

[absolutely-legit]

Benefits

Warnings: Some NSFW language. And they’re weird

~*~

Jinyoung wasn’t prepared for the sight that awaited him when he pushed the door open without a second thought. He was busily staring down at his phone. “Would you want pizza or chinese?” He asked before looking up from the food-delivery app and scanning the room.

He froze solid on the spot when his eyes found the bed. There, on the blanket, with a Hollywood-worthy deer-in-the-headlights expression lay a boy. A very, very naked boy. He was spread out on the covers, slender legs parted, one hand dangerously close to his boy-parts placed on his stomach and head facing the door.

Jinyoung could only imagine the sultry look he would have put on his face when they door opens. Except, well. Jinyoung probably wasn’t the right person to come through. It took the guy a comically long time to finally scramble up into a sitting position and pull the blanket over his exposed lower body. Jinyoung probably should have turned around immediately and thrown the door shut, but something kept him glued to the ground.

Maybe it was the lingering picture of his naked body, or maybe it was just shock and confusion. It was quiet for a while as they drowned in the awkwardness until the boy cleared his throat. “Pizza.” He said and left Jinyoung confused for a moment. Then he remembered the delivery and dabbed around on his phone, ordering probably way too much for two people. Or three?

“Where’s Jaebum?” they suddenly spoke up almost in synchrony. Jinyoung tucked his phone into his pocket. “I don’t know.” He answered honestly. “I thought you were him, I mean… I just heard someone come in and…”

The boy took a few deep breaths. “This is his apartment right?” He asked cautiously and Jinyoung nodded. “And who are you?” The boy shifted visibly uncomfortable. “His uhm… I guess…” Well, obviously, when he was lying nude in Jaebum’s bed. “Are you?” It was then that between the nervous and embarrassed posture something else shone through. “Oh, hell. No. No no.” Jinyoung made, lifting up his hands in surrender. “I’m just like… uh, temporary roommate.”

The boy exhaled a soft huff and his posture slumped a little. “How’d you get… why…?” Jinyoung tried to find words to make any sense of this mess.

“Oh, uhm… I really didn’t know of any roommate. Sorry. He gave me a key for… emergency… But… I was never here actually and I just… Oh god…” He buried his face in his hands in what Jinyoung assumed to be another wave of embarrassment, until he heard a small, pitiful sob. What the fuck.

“Jesus.” He muttered in confusion. “Is everything alright?” The boy shook his head with his hands still clutching is face while he sniffled. Jinyoung carefully made his way over to the bed, awkwardly sitting on the edge. The boy pulled the blanket closer, higher up over his body. “Gosh, I’m sorry.” He whined and rubbed on his face.

“Don’t be.” Jinyoung soothed calmly. “Jaebum is a handful, huh?”

The boy’s shoulders tensed, but he stopped sobbing and eventually looked up. “I don’t know.” He said with a sniff. Jinyoung nodded. “To be honest…” He spoke gently, unwilling to hurt the poor boy further, but he really needed to figure out what was going on. If Jaebum gave his key to someone, you’d think it was quite serious, right? “… He never really mentioned dating someone, so…” Of course he had to witness the boy’s face fall. “W…what’s your name?”

It was quiet for a moment, the boy opened his mouth a few times, but no sound came out. Jinyoung decided to wait patiently, until eventually. “Youngjae…” It was more a whisper than anything.

Jinyoung gave the name some time to sicker into his brain, waiting for a revelation. But there came none. Youngjae seemed to notice. “He didn’t even mention me once, did he.” He said soundlessly, not really a question despite the phrasing. Jinyoung did feel incredibly sorry, but he couldn’t really lie in such a serious situation. So he shook his head and mumbled “Sorry.”

“Would you…” Youngjae’s head piped up with a last spark of hope. “be someone he told?” His eyes were begging for an explanation. “I’m… we’re… best friends.” Jinyoung admitted. Youngjae looked like he was gonna burst into tears, but he just pressed his lips together and went quiet.

“I’m trying to make sense of this.” Jinyoung took charge of the conversation. “How long have you been… dunno… dating?” Youngjae shuddered visibly. He spoke very slowly. “I don’t think we are… actually…” “FWB, huh?” Jinyoung nodded, but Youngjae shook his head. “Just… just the benefits I guess. Without the friends…”

That was very strange, Jinyoung thought, but before he could finish his train of thoughts, Youngjae’s seemed to go in a similar direction. “He’s a playboy, huh? Fucks around a lot I guess. Nothing special.” His voice had a bitter note to it, but disappointment was still evident. That’s what Jinyoung meant. “No.” He answered with a frown. “No, not at all.” Youngjae’s lips parted in surprise. They were pretty. His eyes were pretty, too, even if red-rimmed from crying. His skin looked soft from close distance. He was handsome. Jinyoung studied his face thoughtfully.

If Jaebum had an ideal type, this would be it. “Jaebum isn’t one to sleep around.” Jinyoung stated confidently. There had to be something about Youngjae that was different. “Oh fucking hell.” He cursed and startled Jinyoung with his loud voice. He hadn’t seemed capable of so much volume. “Fuck this shit.” He threw the blanket off and jumped to his feet. “Guess I ruined it. Guess I ruined a nice boy. Whatever.” Jinyoung tried not to look while Youngjae strolled through the room naked, collecting his clothes. “You wanna talk about it?” He offered while staring at the wall and heard a scoff.

“Hell no!” Youngjae huffed. After he was done putting his clothes back on, Jinyoung looked at him again. His cheeks were tinted pink in either anger or shame while he stared back. “I shouldn’t have fallen in love with him.” He explained eventually, back to his softer voice. “I shouldn’t have pounced on him like that. I should have accepted that he never even wanted me, but…” He finally looked away and picked up a bag from the floor. He didn’t finish the sentence. He dug out the key from his pocket. The one that has a pink dinosaur charm attached to it – pretty distinguishable- and he threw it in Jinyoung’s general direction, missing the bed big time. “You can tell him he can go find another hole to nut into. I’m not available anymore.” Jinyoung cringed mildly. “…Or don’t. Like I fucking care.” Then he turned away fully and hastily walked out the door.

Jinyoung didn’t stop him, it was obvious he just wanted to go away. He picked up the key and placed it easily visible on the living room dresser where they put their mail and stuff.

It still didn’t seem to make sense.

Jinyoung was sitting at the kitchen table munching on one of three pizzas when he heard the door open and Jaebum shuffle through the hallway. It was silent for a moment, then Jaebum’s voice carried through the apartment. “Youngjae?!” He asked confused and stumbled towards the kitchen door. He peeked through the doorway and found Jinyoung. “Jinyoung, did you? Youngjae? Is he?” He babbled confused, waving the dinosaur around.

“He’s not here anymore.” Jinyoung answered calmly, taking another bite of his cheesy fast food. “He… not anymore?” Jaebum rushed over and sat on the next chair with an urgent expression. He planted his palms flat on the table in front of him, leaning forward, eyes manic. “Why did he and what happened and how?” He wanted to know.

Jinyoung was seriously confused. “Would you tell me who he is?” He asked, raising a brow. Jaebum had the decency to look ashamed. “A boy, I… I know…” He stammered, visibly uncomfortable. “Was he here?” Jinyoung nodded, unable to bear with Jaebum’s obvious distress. “You mean a boy you fuck?”

Jaebum shifted. “Yes, god, yes. Of course, yes, I admit.” He babbled. “Why was he here? What happened?” Jinyoung stopped eating for a moment to think. “I guess… I suppose he was here for a fuck? Like a surprise fuck?” He offered, raising a brow in question and witnessed Jaebum actually, literally, blushing. “Ah… Aha.”

“If you ask me what happened. I’m not really sure?” Jinyoung kept explaining, but slower, chewing in between. “So instead of you he found me. (Jaebum gasped in shock.) And after learning that me, your roommate and best friend, had never heard from him, he must have realized that you don’t see him as a companion of sorts, but more like… maybe a sex doll? Then he was angry and left. That’s how I see it.”

Jaebum stared at him absolutely aghast. “A sex doll?” he repeated, too shrill to not hurt someone’s ears. "He said that?!” Jinyoung rubbed the ear that was closer to Jaebum with a sour expression. “Well not these words exactly. He phrased it something like: A hole to… fuck. Or something, I don’t know man, but you two obviously got some serious issues.”

Finally Jaebum took his arms off the table and slumped backwards into his chair, eyes dead and he huffed. “He…” He grumbled. “He says… ugh… You know. He’s the one who always wants to fuck.” Jinyoung would really love to say “I don’t caaare.” But he’d lost that privilege when he won the who’s-Jaebum’s-best-friend-competition against Jackson. So he nodded as if he were interested. Now that it seemed the real problem was nothing more than a miscommunication, his interest dwindled quickly.

“I wanted to date him so bad… really Jinyoungie. But, like… we can’t talk for two minutes without him getting into my pants or something. I swear it’s so exhausting…” Jaebum whined unhappily. Jinyoung frowned. “Let me guess.” He sighed, rubbing his temple against an oncoming headache. “You never told him that, have you?”

Jaebum’s head piped up like a puppy smelling a hamburger. “Of course not.” He said dismissively. “And I assume he hasn’t told you that he felt used in return has he?” Jaebum shook his head wildly. “God, are you useless. You’re like a match made in heaven.” Jinyoung reached around the table and dug his fingers into Jaebum’s pocket to pull out his phone.

He didn’t say anything. Just gestured and Jaebum actually complied.

A few hours later, Jinyoung regretted every choice he ever made. He lay on the sofa, curled into his blanket on his temporary bed and stared into the darkness, wishing desperately he was deaf.

“You know I just… AH… tried to… AHH to make you… AH AH AH... want me!” Youngjae’s voice thundered through the locked bedroom door and if Jinyoung had ever thought he had a soft, pleasant voice, he couldn’t remember it. Jaebum and him had been friends for almost 15 years and he’d made it all those times without having to listen to him growl and grunt like a rhino in cardio training. And now those peaceful days were over. All the while Youngjae sounded like a damn porn star. He pleaded for almost anything. (‘Kiss me’, ‘Touch me’, ‘Spank me’, ‘Bite me’).

He didn’t know how people solved an argument over their own fucking, but it was the most disgusting thing he ever heard. They moaned their apologies in between the dull thumping sound of the headboard being pushed into the wall and forgave each other while something crashed and shattered on the floor of which Jinyoung assumed it was the nightstand lamp.

Jinyoung bit down on the corner of his blanket and held back his tears while he shoved a hand down his pajamas.

He’d had to move out of his apartment when he discovered the walls were molding inside and Jaebum had allowed him to stay for a while until he found something new. It’d become too comfortable and cheap and he’d stayed way overdue and kind of stopped looking.

Now he knew he needed a new place ASAP, even before Jaebum took him to the side the next morning and told him just that with the most content face he’s ever had.

~*~

Everything I write is just... Trying to come up with the most ridiculous scenarios. I need a new hobby.

[maddielivesinbooks]

Friday

9:30 AM: Good morning and welcome to my last spooky reading blog. This weekend, I have three major reading goals.

Start and finish Spell on Wheels, which shouldn’t be hard since it’s only a graphic novel. 

Finish His Hideous Heart. I started this last weekend and got a good chunk of the way through during the week. I don’t think this will be hard either 

Start and finish These Witches Don’t Burn. This is my most ambitious goal, and I really do not see it happening. Maybe I should have more faith in myself. 

I also have a ton of reading to do for my women’s history class, and my roommate and I want to marathon the Scream movies. So we’ll see how much reading I actually get done. 

I quickly wanted to tell y’all that I finished House of Salt and Sorrow by Erin A. Craig last night, and really enjoyed it. It’s a spooky retelling of The 12 Dancing Princesses, which was a story I always loved as a little girl. This version has more murder and ghosts. I gave it four stars on Goodreads. It was so creepy and the imagery was lovely. I also love a good sibling dynamic and that was very prevalent in this book. The mystery was really compelling, and I was dying to know what was coming next. This is an unpopular opinion, but I really liked the romance and thought it was a great way to escape all the creepiness and mourning of the story. I took away a star because I hated the oldest sister, Camille. She was sort of a  b-word, but she kind of grew on me. Only a little. Also the last few chapters hurt my head, and I don’t know if it was in a good way. 

10:30 AM: I have taken my morning walk and gotten breakfast. I’m now getting ready for the day. My roommate, Christa, and I are going out for pizza and then heading to this huge Salvation Army in a nearby town. I’m hoping there’s some good books there.

3:00 PM: Unfortunately, the book selection was sort of weak. They did have several copies of various Twilight saga books, which I always like to see, but I do own all of them. Luckily, I did find a very nice sweater and very nice shirt that my hero, Jack Dylan Grazer, also owns. I’ve been jealous of the shirt since I saw it, and now I can wear it all the time.

Anyway, I made Christa take pics of me in my new (old) clothes, so here you go.

8:00 PM: I finally start Spell On Wheels while my laundry is going. I love it a whole lot. Queer lady witches is my favorite genre. The art is so cute, and the book is just spooky enough, without scaring me or grossing me out. Also, there is a hot goatman. I love goatman, and I think you should all Google him if you are not familiar with his work.

9:00 PM: After my laundry is done, and Christa and I have a dance party to bad Christmas songs, we turn on Glee. I love Glee but also hate it. Sam is my favorite character, because my type is an idiot with a heart of gold who also has ginormous lips. 

12:00 AM: We watched so much Glee. So much. Happy Saturday. 

Saturday

8:00 AM: Despite my late night watching Glee, I still wake up at a reasonable time. There’s no reason to, since no where on campus is open yet. I spend my morning reading fanfiction (yes its Reddie, yes I’m still not over that, no I don’t want to stop). 

10:00 AM: I pack my backpack with my laptop and the reading I have to do for women’s history. I also grab Spell On Wheels and His Hideous Heart, but I’m not sure I’m going to get any reading done. At least not the kind anyone wants to hear about. 

I guess I’ll talk about His Hideous Heart real quick. I’m not finished yet, but I am enjoying it. I think some people were saying it might not be for someone like me, who is unfamiliar with Poe’s work. I mean, I know Annabel Lee but that’s only because I stan Matthew Gray Gubler and Cassandra Clare’s The Dark Artifices (I know, please forgive me for stanning her work). That being said, this has been fun. It’s like I’m just reading some spooky stories. It also helps that I have a friend who is president of my school’s lit society and is willing to tell me the plot of several Poe stories instead of doing homework (love you long time Hannah). 

2:00 PM: I finished lots of homework at Starbucks and I’ve now returned to my room to finish Spell on Wheels, which I’ve been embarrassingly calling Spells on Wheels. Oops!

The good news is, I really like this book. It’s super fun. I finish it up, and give it 4.5/5 Stars. Is there going to be another volume? Any continuation whatsoever?! The ending was sort of open.

3:00 PM: I read two stories from His Hideous Heart but I’m not really feeling it so I put it down and read fanfiction instead. 

4:30 PM: I tear into a bag of gummy bears and we start our Scream marathon. I don’t know why I thought I could handle this. It’s icky and sad and making me like David Arquette. Around the time a girl dies via garage door, I realize we are not going to be watching more than this movie.

I appreciate Scream for what it is, but also recognize it is not for me. My roomie and I have a dance party to bad Christmas music instead.

10:00 PM: After Scream, I go see a play on campus. I’m glad I did, because I feel like I’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing lately. After the play, I go back to my room and watch Good Mythical Morning, which is what I watch when I need a pick me up. I also read some fanfiction (shocker) before I go to sleep.

Sunday

10:00 AM: I wake up later than expected, and realize it’s pouring out. I planned on going to the library but the torrential rain completely ruins that plan. Instead I pop open my shitty umbrella and take the short walk to Starbucks where I chug down a mocha and slap post it notes in spots in my women’s history books. I also write seven pages of my screenplay that I do not feel great about.

12:00 PM: When I leave Starbucks it’s raining harder than before. I feel like I’m walking through a swamp or something. I decide once I get back to my room to not leave until the rain stops. Instead, I hang up my soaking wet clothes and do some yoga while listening to bad Christmas music. 

2:00 PM: After yoga and a shower, I finally sit down to do some reading. My goal is to finish His Hideous Heart. I have about 75 pages left and I know I can speed through them. I’m also thinking I’ll maybe start These Witches Don’t Burn, if I have the motivation.

3:00 PM: Reader, I do not have the motivation. I finish His Hideous Heart, which means I’m going to give every story a star rating, just for you. 

She Rode a Horse of Fire (based on Metzengerstein) by Kendare Blake: ⅗ ☆

Its Carnival (based on The Cask of Amontillado by Tiffany D. Jackson : 3.5/5 ☆

Night-Tide (based on Annabel Lee) by Tessa Gratton: 4.5/5 ☆

The Glittering Death (based on The Pit and the Pendulum) by Caleb Roehrig : 2.5/5 ☆

A Drop of Stolen Ink (based on The Purloined Letter) by Emily Llyod-Jones : ⅘ ☆

Happy Days, Sweetheart (based on The Tell-Tale Heart) by Stephanie Keun : ⅗ ☆

The Raven (Remix) by amanda lovelace : 2.5/5 ☆

Changeling (based on Hop-Frog) by Marieke Nijkamp : ⅘ ☆

The Oval Filter (based on The Oval Portrait by Lamar Giles: ⅗ ☆

Red (based on The Masque of the Red Death) by Hillary Monahan: 2.5/5 ☆

Lygia (based on Ligeia) by Dahlia Adler: ⅘ ☆

The Fall of the Bank of Usher (based on The Fall of the House of Usher) by Fran Wilde: ⅘ ☆

The Murders in Rue Apartelle, Boracay (based on The Murders in the Rue Morgue) by Rin Chupeco: 5/5 ☆

So there’s all that! I really do not feel like reading, so I color and watch Youtube instead. Thrilling, I know.

8:30 PM: I finally, finally start These Witches Don’t Burn! It’s probably the last thing I’ll read before the end of these blogs, and I definitely won’t finish, so let’s just end this now. 

I’ve read nine books this month, so far. You’ve heard my thoughts on most of them, so I’m just going to tell you my favorite and least favorite. My favorite was absolutely Lock Every Door by Riley Sagar. I have never gasped so loudly in my life. This book had me clutching my pearls. I also really loved The Okay Witch by Emma Steinkellner. I guess my least favorite was The Lady Rogue by Jenn Bennett, which hurts to say. I don’t want to say His Hideous Heart because I am unfamiliar with Poe, and also because my feelings on each story are wildly different. Anyway,I still gave The Lady Rogue a 3.5/5! It’s just that compared to everything else I read, it wasn’t very memorable. That being said, I still recommend all of Jenn Bennett’s young adult contemporary novels.  And I recommend almost all the spooky books I read this October! It’s been a great month. 

  Thanks for reading! Follow and share and like! Stay tuned for something similar to this in December! Follow me other places too!

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  Boo! Bitch Blogs #4 (a.k.a The Finale) Friday 9:30 AM: Good morning and welcome to my last spooky reading blog. This weekend, I have three major reading goals.

[emhoardsbooks]

about time

James uses the hidden messages in spotify playlists craze to tell Lily how he feels. AO3

A/N: written for @emmelinevvance , happy birthday fam | listen to To: Lily and To: James

Peter renamed the group chat to Sirius owes me a tenner.

Sirius renamed the group chat to Eff You Pete I’m Poor

Peter renamed the group chat to You’re the richest person who’s had to do nothing for it I know.

Sirius renamed the group chat to no that’s jim

James: can we just agree that Sirius needs to be paid and then address the important matter here

Peter: *I* need to be paid.

James: right, whatever

James sent a link

Remus: what the hell is this I thought you hated buzzfeed

James: i do but look at this

Peter: people making playlists that spell out a message?

James: it’s brilliant

Sirius: you *have* always been a mixtape guy

Remus: yeah remember when he made us actual mixtapes last year and we all he to go to pete’s cause he’s the only one with a cassette player still

Peter: not my fault james and i are the only cultured ones

Sirius: nah mate you’re just too sentimental to throw out your bloody cassettes from when you were like 5

James: A N Y W A Y

James: im gonna make one for lily

Remus renamed the group chat to This Is Going To End Badly

James: lads I’m serious!

Sirius: last time i checked that was me

Peter: stfu

Remus: didn’t you and lily just start being friends? are you sure you wanna risk that?

James: i can feel something is different between us… i think it’s time

Sirius renamed the group chat to *Rafiki voice* It Is Time

James: stfu

----

James opened Spotify and stared at the screen for a good three minutes before creating a new playlist. In the name slot he typed, “To: Lily.”

And then he vigorously back spaced and retyped, “Dear Lily.” He did this four more times before settling on what he had written originally. He already felt like he was making a fool of himself and he hadn’t even sent her the playlist yet. Maybe he should just make her a physical mixtape.

But no. Because then he’d have to do it in person and she’d need to borrow his cassette player- or worse- Peter’s. That would be bloody awkward.

He leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtfully at the blank playlist on his screen. James knew he was supposed to create a message out of the songs, but what did he want to say? There were so many things.

I love the way you brush my hair out of my face for me when I’m cooking.

I love the way you get a little dimple in your right cheek when you smile.

I love the way you wear green because you know it bring out your eyes.

I love your eyes.

I love your kindness.

I love your wit.

I love you.

That was what he wanted to say. How was he going to say all that in one playlist? Remus was right, this was going to end badly. It was doomed. He was doomed. His relationship with Lily was doomed and he should quit while he was ahead. James tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Maybe if he just rested for a while, an idea would come to him.

----

Remus: you have to talk to james

Lily: what’s wrong with him now?

Remus: I like how you say “now” as if there’s always something wrong with him

Remus: cause you’re right

Remus: but this time he has this insane idea in mind and he’s having no luck pulling it off. talking to you calms him down so maybe it’d help

Lily: hmm

Lily: well since you said i’m right, i *guess* i can talk to him

Remus: you’re the best lily

Lily: you can stop flattering me I already agreed to do it

----

The truth was, Lily would agree to talk to James any time and she knew that Remus knew she would. As she let herself into their flat with the key they had given her a few months ago, she thought about when that had developed. When exactly had she been willing, eager even, to talk to James Potter?

Maybe when he had found her crying in the hall after a particularly bad encounter with Severus, and brought her into his flat and fed her brownies. Maybe it had been when he piggy backed her to the health center on campus after she twisted her ankle trying to skateboard faster than Sirius and hadn’t even complained when the pain made her squeeze his fingers purple. Or maybe it had been when he told jokes and laughed so hard that it felt like the coldness of winter was melting away.

However it happened, friendship had finally blossomed between them and Lily found she liked it quite a lot. She liked James quite a lot.

The door to his room was open and he was sprawled out on his bed with his arm flung over his face. Ever the dramatic one, this boy, she thought as she lightly knocked on the door frame. He slowly peeled his arm away from his eyes and when he saw her he sat up faster than she’d ever seen him do. It was adorable and a little pang of warmth blossomed and spread from her stomach to her chest.

Shit.

“Don’t get up on my account,” she teased as she crossed the room and sat next to him on the bed.

“Of course I’m getting up for you, you’re our guest,” he muttered. Lily could tell he had been dozing. His glasses were askew and his voice was gravelly.

“Oh shut up.”

Before she knew why she was doing it she was pushing him back down on the bed and nestling herself into his side. There was a stunned expression on his face and she could see the sides of his neck darkening. Hers was too, so maybe it was a good sign. Maybe he felt flustered and nervous and like butterflies were beating drums in his stomach too. She reached up and brushed his hair away from his face. He sucked in a little breath that made her head spin.

“Remus told me you have something on your mind,” she said quietly. “Just rest for now.”

They fell asleep like that. Later, Sirius came to ask them if they wanted to order Chinese or pizza for dinner. When he saw them, Lily curled into James and James with the most content, peaceful expression on his face he’d seen in years, Sirius quietly shut the door and let them be.

----

Peter: jim is in love

Sirius renamed the group chat to D U H

Remus: you twats better leave him alone

Remus: don’t fuck it up for him

Sirius: language, remus

Remus: I hate you

Remus: james? james just ignore them ok?

Peter: we’ll be on our best behavior, promise

Sirius: we won’t scare evans away

Sirius: although *you* haven’t done so already so i don’t know how we could

Remus: sirius

Sirius: what!?

Sirius: he’s not even reading our messages anyway!

Peter: yeah he’s too busy trying to make that bloody playlist

Remus: … you do have a point

Remus renamed the group chat to Just Tell Her How You Feel

----

Lily: did I do something? u guys haven’t been talking to me much this week

Lily: especially james..

Sirius: you’ve done a lot of things evans

Sirius: that time you stole remus’ bike

Sirius: that time you told mcgonagall that *i* put the goat in the library when it was clearly you and marlene

Sirius: that time you punched pete for winning a bet fair and square

Sirius: that time you bewitched our jamesy into falling madly in love with you

Lily: …..

Lily: come again?

Sirius: that time you told mcgonagall that *i* put the goat in the library when it was clearly you and marlene

Lily: THE PART ABOUT JAMES YOU SHIT HEAD

Sirius: oh yeah

Sirius: well he’s obviously in love with you despite trying really hard to just be a nice friend

Sirius: because you wanted to J U S T be friends and he all he wants is to not cross the line and to make you happy by giving what you want

Sirius: but no you had to be all charming and make him love you anyway

Sirius: i swear to god if you break his heart…

Sirius: evans are you listening

Lily: yeah sirius

Lily: I’m listening

----

James finished the playlist at one in the morning. Ever since that day when Lily had shown up, and calmed him down without knowing why she had to, he had been renewed with an intense urge to finish what he had started. He had to tell her. He couldn’t keep seeing her like this- soft, warm, and loving- if he wasn’t going to tell her how he felt.

And maybe, if she didn’t feel the same way, she’d pull away. That’d be for the best really. Then he could stop pining after her. Stop wishing that every little brush of her hands could lead to more. Stop wishing that he could whisper sweet things to her instead of plots to slip pink hair dye into Peter’s shampoo. Maybe he’d even stop loving her.

He never would.

----

She shouldn’t have been up so late. She should have been catching up on her sleep after finally submitting her final university paper ever. But Marlene had wanted to go out and celebrate so Lily had gone too and now they were finally staggering back into their flat at nearly two in the morning.

Lily wondered if they could hear her. Could James, whose room was directly below their lounge, hear her stumbling to the couch and flopping onto it? Sometimes she hated how close their flat was. She hated being only feet away from him but still an entire floor apart. She never wanted to be apart from him.

Lily heard her phone ping and considered ignoring the message. Whoever it was, they could wait until the morning. But she was too curious, as usual, and checked the screen anyway.

James sent a link

She clicked it and it opened Spotify. The name of the playlist immediately caught her eye. To: Lily.

As she skimmed the songs it took a moment for her drink befuddled brain to realize the message hidden in the titles. But once she saw it, it was like she sobered up immediately and her heart began beating wildly in her chest. And even though it was now half past two and she should have been sleeping, Lily sat in her lounge and listened to the playlist James sent her.

She cried as she listened to it. She cried because Sirius had been right and this wonderful, sweet man really did love her. She cried because she realized that all along she had loved him too.

Below her, James tossed and turned in bed, trying to sleep even though the nerves were eating him alive and he needed to know what she thought.

----

Lily sent a link

The notification was the first thing James saw when he checked his phone in the morning. He had finally fallen asleep, if only for a few hours. He immediately swiped his phone open and clicked the link, his heart pounding in his chest as he did. It led him to a Spotify playlist.

To: James.

He was just processing the message in the song titles when there was a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he said. He was well aware of how hoarse he sounded but it felt like his heart was in his throat so who could blame him really.

“James.”

He looked up and Lily was there. She looked like she had gotten even less sleep than he had. He really shouldn’t have sent her the playlist in the middle of the night like that but he wasn’t able to wait any longer. He had to know.

And now he did.

By the time he had untangled himself from his blankets and gotten out of bed, she had crossed the room and was standing in front of him. She slowly raised her hands and rested them on his shoulders. He had always thought about this moment. Being close enough to count the freckles on her nose, she the shades of green in her eyes, feel her breath on his face. How far he would have to lean down to reach her lips.

“Lily I’m sorry if it was forward of me,” he started but stopped when she smiled and rolled her eyes at him. There was that little dimple and the crinkles in corners of her eyes. When Lily smiled like that, James knew everything was going to be right.

So he kissed her.

----

Remus renamed the group chat to james and lily are A Thing™

Peter: took long enough

Sirius: how do you know before me

Remus: my room is next to james’

Sirius: so?

Peter: oooooo

Sirius: pete gets it before me that’s honestly offensive..

Sirius: oh

Remus: yep

James: boys it’s lily

James: stop texting james he’s busy ;)

Peter: jfc

Sirius: i can’t believe we *wanted* this to happen

Remus: I can

Sirius renamed the group chat to Great now Remus has starry eyes.

Remus renamed the group chat to stfu Sirius

Sirius renamed the group chat to M A K E ME

Remus: …..

Remus: ok

Sirius: huhkugab.,,

Peter: ! ! !

Peter: JAMES

James: you guys lily said to leave me a l o n e

Peter: k

Peter: just thought you’d like to know remus just marched up to sirius, pushed him up against the fridge and started snogging him

James: fuCK that’s stainless steel those prats better get off my kitchen applian c es or e lse

----

Lily reached over and slowly took James’ phone from his hand. After reading the messages that had his mouth hanging open in shock she just laughed.

“It’s about time,” she said. James looked at her. His hair was tousled and his glasses had been knocked nearly off. She loved the soft way he gazed at her. The way he made it seem like she was the brightest, most wonderful thing in the room and that he was as happy as can be just watching her.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

He kissed her again and Lily melted into his arms.

[phanwritings]

Prayin’

Tittle: Prayin'

Word Count: 6.3K

Description: Dan was a seventeen year old boy with religious parents and a crush on his best friend.

Warnings/Triggers: Being caught, being outed, unsupportive parents, being kicked out, themes of homophobia. (There is a happy ending though!)

A/N: I've spent the past three days writing this, I hope you enjoy it. It has a lot of my life experiences in it. Also, I suck at endings and didn't know how to properly end it. Soz.

Read it on ao3 or wattpad if you’d like! They always get updated first btw 

*

"No, I can't be gay. They don't want me to be gay," he cried, trying to hide his face. Dan didn't want anyone to notice he was crying, even though someone was bound to. He was sat in the principal's office, his English teacher, principal, best friend and maybe boyfriend Phil, and the guidance counselor crowded around him. Dan wished they would give him some space.

Him and Phil had gotten caught kissing underneath the bleachers by the English teacher during 5th period, which was why they were in the office. The office normally would have called their parents but considering the fact that both of their parents were extreme Christians decided against it. The principal had then called the guidance counselor up to come and speak to them. "My parents are gonna kill me. Please don't tell them, please."

Dan tried to hide another sob, shuddering in the chair. He could feel everyone's gaze on him. It was nerve-wracking. Phil hesitantly placed his hand on Dan's back, rubbing it up and down, clearly trying to be soothing. When his parents heard he was going to be kicked out, he was sure of it.

*

WEEKS EARLIER

"Class! Please pay attention!" The teacher demanded at the front of the class. "For our new assignment we will be studying how music can affect mostly silent scenes in TV shows and movies. This will be a week long project, due this Friday, and will be a test grade. You may pick one partner, I have to approve the partnership before you start working. You will both receive the same test grade, pick wisely. You may begin."

Dan quickly glanced to Phil, knowing for certain that they would pick each other. They always did. His gaze met with Phil's and he nodded, granting Dan permission to get approval from the teacher. Dan walked up to her desk, noticing how Phil quickly moved to get a laptop from the cart. He loved how quickly they worked together.

Dan walked back to their desk, Phil now having the laptop set up. "My place tonight?" Dan asked Phil as he slid into his seat. "We can order pizza and knock this project out in a few hours. If we do it again tomorrow night we'll be done and then we can have this class period for the rest of the week to do our homework during the day."

"I love how your brain works," Phil grinned. "Let me text my mom during break, it should be fine though. We're both guys, not like we'll do anything when your parents aren't home." Phil laughed.

"Yeah," Dan gave a weak smile and tried to give a convincing laugh, probably failing dramatically.

*

"I can't believe we didn't have any homework today," Dan exclaimed as they started the walk to his house. "That's never happened before!"

Phil laughed, speeding up so he could keep up with Dan who had started to skip. "I know! We might be able to finish our project tonight, then we'd have almost the entire week free!"

"Can you imagine? We could get a start on our homework every day, or maybe read, it would be great!" You could call them both nerds but they loved to stay ahead in school. It was something important to the both of them, and probably one of the reasons they clicked so well together. They had been friends since grade school, meeting after Dan moved from across the country. It was frightening and overwhelming, to say the least.

Dan had just walked onto the playground for the first time. It was a dreadful day. Dan didn't get to start at the beginning of the school year, much less the beginning of the week. He had to be the new transfer student that joined the school on a random Wednesday in March. It was terrible and made a person realize how alone you could be.

Dan had carefully walked through the playground. He didn't really want to go down a slide - he was nine now and much too old for slides, at least that's what his brother said. He saw the start of woods at the edge of the playground. Dan tentatively walked towards one of them, sitting down on the ground. He was out of the way, no one had to talk to him, and he could be alone. It was perfect. Until a boy with ginger hair had come along.

"Hi!" The boy had said, standing in front of Dan and blocking the very little sun. It had been an rather gloomy day, something Dan appreciated. It matched his mood perfectly. "I'm Phil! You're the new kid, right?"

"No," Dan had said, sneering at the boy. "I'm the wildly popular kid, obviously." The boy, Phil, had just laughed before he sat down next to him. How could he! Dan had wanted to be alone and he had thought he made that quite clear. What other type of person sits against a tree away from everyone else?

"You're funny," Phil said. "Do you want to see my Pokemon cards? I just got some new ones yesterday! And a binder to hold them in!" Dan didn't want to admit it but he was rather curious to see his collection. He didn't have loads himself but he enjoyed trading.

"Okay," He said, standing up after Phil and following him to a picnic table. Other kids were surrounding it and Dan tried to remain calm about it.

"You'll get to meet some of my friends too, they're all very nice, I'm sure you like them," Phil assured, sitting down at one edge of the table and grabbing a navy blue binder. "The girl with the long brown hair is Louise and the girl with the short brown hair is Dodie. They're probably my best friends. And then Connor and Troye are over by that tree." He waved to the two boys that were playing ball.

"Why do you have girl best friends?" Dan asked, trying to figure out why Phil didn't say Troye and Connor were his best friends instead.

Phil just shrugged. "Why shouldn't I? They're nice and they aren't rough like some boys. Well, Connor and Troye aren't rough and noisy either. That's why I like them so much." Dan figured that this reasoning was good enough. It actually sounded pleasant to him. He hated when boys were rowdy and destroyed things. It was always better when you could just talk. Dan decided right then and there that he would give Phil and his friends a chance. Phil seemed kind enough.

Ever since that day they had all been friends. However, one thing changed. Dan was now definitely Phil's best friend and it been that way for a long while. Dan would never tell Phil this, but he was so glad that he talked to him on that day. He couldn't imagine where he would be if he didn't have Phil, and he was sure that Phil felt the same way. Dan looked at his best friend, listening to him speak about the latest video game update he had installed. Dan took in the way he kept his gaze on the pavement most of the time but occasionally flickered up to meet his, noticed how he always gave Dan a small smile. He was so lucky to have Phil in his life.

Dan could only hope that never changed.

*

"Ugh," Phil moaned from Dan's bed. "Can we please order pizza now? I am so done with this project."

"We're almost done. If we order pizza now we'll be nearly finished by the time it gets here. We could finish it and proofread after we eat. Sound good?" Dan proposed. Phil nodded glumly from his bed, an arm flung over his eyes. "Are you tired?"

Phil let out a grunt of confirmation. Dan wished he could go lie down on his bed next to Phil but figured that would be very weird and he didn't want Phil to think that Dan was acting weirdly. He couldn't notice any changes in Dan.

"Are you going to church on Wednesday? My brother is going to be leading the youth group." Dan questioned, going onto their favorite pizza website and starting to place their order. They had studied together so many times Dan knew what Phil always wanted and vice versa. It made Dan happy to know the little things about Phil, more than it did with his other friends. In fact, when it came to Phil, so many things were different about him. Dan automatically cared more about Phil when it came to anything, as terrible as that sounded. It's not that he didn't care about his other friends, it's just that he really cared about Phil. It's not like this was a bad thing, it just meant that they are close. But Dan was starting to wonder. Why hadn't he ever felt this way for anyone else before? Did that mean anything? Dan was shaken out of his thoughts by Phil responding.

"Yeah, we are. Mum doesn't want to miss your brother's first sermon. It's apparently a big deal." Phil spoke up. "I mean what is he even going to talk to us about? It's not like he knows way more than we do, he's only a few years older. Just because he's graduated with a degree from some fancy private school doesn't mean he can magically make a bunch of teenagers listen to him, no matter what they taught him."

Dan laughed, agreeing with Phil's statement. And half an hour later when the doorbell rang and Phil got up and stretched, Dan tried not to follow his shirt as it rose on his stomach. He didn't want to think about what this meant. He really, really didn't.

*

"Daniel! Time to leave!" His mother yelled up the stairs. Dan quickly slipped his shoes on and ran the stairs. He had known that if he was late his mother would get mad at him. If there was one thing that his family took seriously it was religion. Dan had been baptized when he was seven. His views on Christianity had changed as he grew older but he knew he believed in a God. It just made sense to him.

He knew Phil was kind of similar to him. He had also been raised in the religion, his parents a similar level of conservative to Dan's, which was pretty conservative. Phil had expressed his dislike of the beliefs that most of the church shared. The fact that the girls had to go through a ceremony where they received a flower, symbolizing their virginity and how it shouldn't go to anyone until marriage. The guys had no lesson on this. It was sexist and hetero-normative, something both of them despised.

Both Dan and Phil considered themselves open-minded, especially in comparison to the members of their church. Dan didn't know all of Phil opinions, but he knew they were more liberal than some of the youth group. Troye and Connor, mutual friends of theirs, had come out a year or so ago and Dan knew that Phil was nothing but supportive. Dan didn't know how Phil would react to a guy having a crush on him. Especially if that guy was his best friend. Dan wasn't sure if he had a crush on him, but it would certainly explain a lot. He never liked a girl before but he had just thought that was because he was being a good Christian. His mom had said that some guys don't really like girls until their later teens, but Dan still didn't like a girl, even though he was seventeen. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He could remember really liking one guy and wanting to be friends with him, or the one time where he got really jealous when a girl started talking to his old best friend before he moved.

Dan sighed, relaxing against the seat in the car, gazing out the window. He wished his head would just shut up or figure out what he was feeling. He was already looking forward to seeing Phil at church, even though they had walked home together only hours ago. He couldn't talk to him about what was going on in his head but he could figure out his views and opinions. First, he had to listen to his brother's sermon. Maybe he could ask his brother. He couldn't be too obvious about it though, his brother was basically a pastor now.

They arrived at the church, Dan quickly spotting Phil and making his way towards him. Dan had to be there early because of his brother, Phil just came early because Dan would be there early. It made Dan feel warm on the inside.

"Hi!" Phil said, scooting over on the pew so that Dan could sit. They were in the Sanctuary, the room where the services where held on Sunday mornings and the adult service on Wednesday. Dan and Phil would be in the youth room tonight.  Dan always liked being in the Sanctuary when no one else was in it. He always felt closer to God. It felt holier without more people in it. Dan sat next to Phil, their shoulders touching. He leaned into him, resting his head on his shoulder. He liked that he could do this, he knew that Phil didn't like most people touching him. He had three exceptions; Dan, his mom, and Sarah Michelle Gellar. Dan was honored to be included in the same group as Sarah Michelle Gellar, who was basically all Phil would ever want in a woman.

"You okay?" Phil asked, probably noticing how much quieter Dan was than usual.

"Yeah," Dan sighed. "I'm just thinking. A lot. And it's annoying."

"Well, what are you thinking about?" Dan sighed again.

"Do think God loves me, no matter what?"

"Considering the fact that the bible says that God has created each and every one of us in His image, loving us unconditionally, would support that claim." Phil said, confident in his answer.

"But do you think that goes for gay people too?" Dan questioned, figuring that he might as well figure out what Phil thought.

"I would think so. If the bible says we are created in His image, why wouldn't that be included?" Phil debated. "If we go by that, God could be anyone. He could be a black trans woman. God is everyone and everything, He is everywhere. I know more and more people are using they/them pronouns for God. I think it makes sense."

"But what about all the people that say gay people go to Hell?" Dan was trying to figure out everything. Phil seemed to have answers to everything he asked so far.

"Well, there are contradicting verses. The bible says that anyone who accepts him goes to Heaven. Why wouldn't that include religious gay people? People in Christianity tend take the two verses in the bible talking about homosexuality to judge an entire group of people. One of those verses weren't even for us, it was for the people of the Old Testament. We don't have to wear one piece of fabric anymore, we get piercings, it's considered okay. We don't follow any of the other rules." Phil sighed, thinking some more. "I think the reason some gay people reject religion is because they've been rejected. Religion is so hurtful to so many people. I know God isn't happy with it. Why would He be? He is love, and that's all He wants for us. The fact that people use the bible, which He influenced, to hate must be hurtful."

Dan let himself relax into Phil more as he rambled on, already feeling better. His eyes caught onto the cross that rested against the wall at the front of the church. He felt at peace in the church for the first time. He let the feeling wash over him, making him feel rested.

"Why are you worrying anyways?" Phil asked, noticing that Dan had closed his eyes.

"Can you promise not to tell anyone? Please?" Dan asked, already worrying like crazy at Phil could say.

"I promise I won't." Phil promised, locking eyes with him when Dan opened his eyes.

"I think I might be gay." He whispered, feeling like there was a lump in his throat. His vision got blurry and he willed himself not to cry. He broke his gaze with Phil, eyes resting on the cross.

"Hey, it's okay," Phil said softly. He moved to hug Dan, their chins resting on each other's shoulders. "I still love you, you're still my best friend. Don't think you're getting out of being stuck with me so easy." Dan let out a watery laugh, closing his eyes and letting himself be held.

"Thanks," Dan said, pulling back.

"What made you start questioning your sexuality? Is it a boy?" Phil asked. He got excited, acting as if he had been struck by lighting. "This is why we never talked about girls! You didn't want to! Now we can talk about crushes!" His voice kept getting louder and louder, Dan getting more and more worried that someone would overhear, like his mom or brother.

"Shh, keep your voice down! We're in church," Dan laughed, Phil apologizing. "But yes, it is because of a boy." Phil got a glint in his eyes, the one Dan knew well. It was the look where Phil was trying to figure something else and he was determined to get it right.

"Who is it?" He asked, clearly curious.

"I'm not telling," Dan said, blushing.

"You have to! I've always told you about the girls I like." Phil turned so that he could pull his feet up onto the pew. If either of their mothers saw him, he would be in trouble. Dan mirrored his movements.

"Ugh, fine," Dan said. "It's, uh . . . it's Troye."

"Oh," Phil said, dejected. Was it just Dan's wishful imagination or did Phil actually look upset? He started to brighten up. "Am I allowed to tease you around him?"

"No!" Dan laughed, already dreading the lie. Phil gave him a smile, Dan smiling back. His mother came to warn them that they had five minutes to get upstairs into the youth room before the adults started pouring into the Sanctuary. They scrambled out of the pew, racing to see who could get up the stairs fastest. Dan ended up winning, but just by a few seconds. They took their seats on the only couch. The youth room had a pool table, table tennis, and a hockey table, but those were all in the back of the room. The front of the room was filled with bean bag chairs and old chairs that they had thrifted over the years. The only couch was basically Dan and Phil's, everyone knew that they sat there every Sunday and Wednesday. It was a low flowery couch with mismatched throws pillows. Dan loved it.

Dan settled close to Phil, looking up at his brother, standing on the platform at the front of the room. Dan could tell that his brother was nervous, it was obvious. His brother was wringing his hands and stuttering every now and then. Dan almost felt bad for him, but it was hilarious. His brother was rarely nervous. Dan was going to enjoy this.

"So, kids, well you're not really kids, so teens, today we're going to talk about something that a lot of guys have probably dealt with, whether it's your friends or social media," His brother started. Dan was wondering what it was, sex, fame? "That something is homosexuality, something that is threatening the youth of our nation."

Dan's face went pale, his limbs stiff. He could feel Phil stiffen next to him. He was not going to enjoy this one bit.

*

"How was Aaron's service, Dan?" His mother asked as they drove home. His dad was staying later to help take down some decorations with Phil's dad. They were going to ride home later, that way the rest of their families could leave at the normal time.

"It was good, yeah," Dan said, staring out the window, trying to process his thoughts. His brother had said all the things that any other preacher had said before. It still hurt though. Phil had grabbed his hand halfway through the service, the action concealed by a throw pillow. "Very informative."

"Aw, that's good! I'm so proud of you, Aaron. What did you talk about? I bet it was good." His mother said, turning into the McDonald's drive thru.

"He talked about how all gay people are going to hell." Dan bitterly said, not being able to hold back his bitter tone.

"Dan! Tone, please," His mom said, pausing to order. "I'm sure that your brother meant well, I'm sure that he didn't say anything incorrect."

"The bible can be interrupted in many different ways! Gay people can be religious, and he could've hurt someone! What if there was a kid there who had just realized he or she was gay? How do you think they dealt with being told that they are going to hell, even though they believe in God? It could be damaging." Dan argued, trying to get his mom to understand his view.

"Dan, please, people chose to be gay," His brother said.

"No, they don't! Ask literally any gay person, they don't chose to be gay. When did you chose to be to straight?" Dan was hoping that his brother would realize his wrongs, or his mom would at least come to his side.

"Why do even care?" His brother shot back. "You're straight." Dan could not come out, he just realized, he could not do that.

"I have gay friends! I know they didn't chose to be gay." Dan said, he wasn't lying, he just wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Dan, just accept that you don't agree with each other," His mother butted in. "I'm sure that your brother didn't mean to hurt anyone and it was a lovely lesson." She handed Dan his bag of food, ending the discussion.

*

"Dan! Why aren't you ready for school?" His mother asked, opening his door. Dan startled awake, sitting up in his bed. He must've fallen asleep after his alarm went off. He stayed up most of the night online trying to figure out what to do about being gay. He needed to get comfortable with his sexuality more and then start to slowly come out when he felt ready, at least that's what most people on the internet said. He looked at his mom in that moment, trying to figure out what she would say about him being gay. Would she kick him out? Would she hate him and disown him? Out of his mom and his dad, his mom was definitely the kinder and more compassionate one. If he wasn't accepted by her he'd be screwed.

"I must've fallen asleep again, sorry. I couldn't sleep well last night," Dan sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

"Well, you missed the bus and I have to get to work. You're going to be late either way, do you want to just stay home? Do you have any tests or anything today?"

"No, I don't," Dan said, checking the time, it was 7:20 a.m. His bus came at 7:15 and his school at started 7:40.

"Alright, just stay home today. Your brother will be home today as well, try not to fight. I know how you two get."

"Okay, mom, love you," Dan said, starting to get out of bed.

"I love you, too," She replied, closing the door behind.

*

"You're a traitor!" Phil shouted the moment he entered Dan's house.

Dan laughed. "What makes you say that?"

"You left me! We had a heart-to-heart yesterday and you didn't even have the nerve to show up to school today!" Phil laughed, taking his backpack off and letting it rest against the wall by the door. "I thought we had something special here."

"I'm sorry," Dan said, laughing at Phil. "I slept in on accident. Mom decided to let me stay home."

"Well, it was still rude," Phil said quieter. "I brought you the homework so you don't get behind."

"Aw, thank you," Dan said, accepting the folder Phil gave to him. "You're like my prince."

"Here to save you from the scary dragon of behind work." Phil giggled, going along.

"My hero," Dan placed a hand over his heart, laughing quietly with Phil. "My brother's home by the way. I don't know where though, just warning you."

"I can't swear, gosh darn it!" Phil joked.

Dan snorted. "I have never heard you swear. Ever."

"Because somebody's always been around!" Phil rebutted. Dan rolled his eyes, walking into the kitchen, Phil trailing behind him. He got out the ice cream and ice cream cones, Phil's favorite snack besides popcorn.

"So, you know how you told me who you like yesterday," Phil started.

"Yes?" Dan raised his eyebrow, scooping out ice cream for both him and Phil.

"Are you planning on telling that person?" Phil asked, voice hesitant. Dan sighed, knowing that he had to come clean.

"I lied to you, I don't have a crush on Troye," Dan made sure to keep his voice down seeing as they were in the kitchen and he didn't know if his brother could hear or not. "I have a crush on another guy."

Phil perked. "Do I know him?"

Dan bit his lip, glancing at Phil from under his lashes. "Um, you do. Really well. He's kind of my best friend."

"Oh," Was Phil's response. Dan couldn't look at him. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, you know my crush as well."

Phil had a crush on somebody? And he didn't mention it until now? Dan felt a little bit betrayed. "Yeah? Who is it?" Dan asked, his voice quiet.

"My best friend."

Dan looked up at him, just now realizing that the ice cream was dripping, and took in Phil's expression. His cheeks were a light pink, his eyes downcast and staring at the floor.

"Really?" Dan asked, trying to not let the hopefulness seep into his tone. It felt like at any moment Phil would jump up and tell him it was a joke, laugh at him, and leave.

"Yeah," Phil looked up, his eyes connecting with Dan's.

"Oh," Dan said, repeating what Phil had said only a bit before. "Well, I'm sure he likes you back."

"Is that so?" Phil said, gaining some of his usual confidence back and cocking an eyebrow. "Would you care to confirm that?"

"I'm sure I could think of some way to," Dan said, leaning over the counter, completely forgetting about the ice cream.

"Yeah, I have a few ideas too," Phil leaned over too, their noses touching.

"Yeah," Dan breathed. He moved his head closer, finally making his and Phil's lips touch. It was unlike Dan had anything had ever felt before. Too soon, Dan was unlocking their lips and looking at Phil. His eyes darted down to his lips, then his cheeks, and back to his eyes. Phil's cheeks were flushed with pink. Dan very quickly decided that he want to do that again. Dan grabbed Phil's hand and dragged him upstairs to his room. They had at least another hour or two until his mom got home, they could kiss quite a bit.

"Are we not talking about this?" Phil asked, following him up the stairs.

"What is there to talk about? I like you, you like me, let's kiss," Dan said, closing the door and shoving Phil against it. He had only made out with one person in his life and he fully intended to have made out with two by the end of the day. Phil shrugged and let Dan kiss him senseless.

*

They had eventually moved to the bed, taking breaks between kissing and talking about whatever random thing they wanted to talk about. They were cuddling and Dan was loving it. Dan was facing Phil and vice versa, Dan's arms wrapped around Phil's waist. Their legs were wrapped together. Dan felt like he was going to burst into giggles at any moment, which he had been doing for the past half hour.  Phil would just laugh with him and pull him closer.

It was one of those moments. Dan had burst into giggles once again when he had realized that Phil liked him back. They had kissed, they were cuddling. It was all hitting him and he couldn't help but giggle over and over. This time Phil had pulled him closer and put a finger under his jaw, guiding Dan's face to his. Their lips met and Dan happily sighed into the kiss, closing his eyes and basking in the feeling of Phil's lips on his.

All of a sudden, his door was being opened, his mother in the doorway, clearly angry. "Daniel Howell! Why is there melted ice cream downstairs on the counter? I know it wasn't your brother, he's lactose intolerant for heaven's sake-" She abruptly stopped when she took in Dan and Phil on the bed. "What are you doing?" Her voice had gone cold, her expression a guarded type of anger.

Dan sat up, knocking Phil's arms off of him. Their legs continued to be tangled together and Dan wanted to untangle them but knew that it would draw more attention. He could tell he was on the verge of crying. He knew his parents' views. "It's not what it looks like!" Phil had sat up as well and Dan could tell that he was scared. Dan's mom was probably going to tell Phil's. Phil had told Dan that his parents didn't care about other people being gay but they didn't want him to be gay. If word got back to them things could go from bad to worse.

"And what does it look like?" His mother asked, stepping into the room. Dan needed to think of a convincing argument.

"We were just tired! Phil came over after school and we were talking and then we laid down! That's all that happened." Dan tried to assure her, convince her that nothing was going on.

"I don't believe you," His mom said. "Phil, I think you should go home. Dan and I need to have a talk." Dan felt like crying as he watched Phil solemnly nod and get out of the bed, walking past his mom and then down the stairs.  Dan looked at the bed, refusing to look at his mom.

Dan heard his mother walking closer to the bed and then felt her sit. "Why did you do this?" She asked, her voice fake sympathetic. Dan shrugged, not wanting to tell her about how Phil made his insides squirm more with every passing day. "Are you gay?" He did not want to answer that question, possibly ever, so he just shrugged again.

"I don't think you need to be seeing Phil anymore," His mom decided after more silence from him. "He's clearly influencing you in a negative way. I don't like it."

His mom got up and left the room, leaving Dan to wonder about how his life had changed so dramatically in less than twelve hours.

*

"What did she say? Why didn't she call my parents? I wouldn't have come out to my parents last night if I had known she wasn't going to call," Phil asked at school the next day.

"She said that we need to stop hanging out and that we shouldn't speak at school but I'm obviously not going to listen to her," Dan replied, leaning into Phil's side. They were sitting on a bench outside of their school while waiting for the first period bell to ring. They had about ten minutes. "I don't know why she didn't call your parents, I was certain that she would have called them. What did they say?"

"I thought they would have cared more but they were completely chill with it. Well, not completely but they weren't mad or anything. I was afraid that they were going to kick me out."

"Well I guess that's good." Dan said, considering what to do about his mom and dad's decision. "I still want to see you. I say that we still hang out but 'forget' to mention it to my family."

"Sounds good," Phil said, snuggling into Dan and hiding his face in Dan's neck. Dan smiled, clasping Phil's hand in his.

*

Three weeks had passed and Dan and Phil had still managed to hide it from Dan's family. Dan was happier than he had been in a while, despite his family's views. He had Phil though, and his supportive friends, it was all fine.

Dan had come to the conclusion that God didn't hate him or Phil. Why would He? Him and Phil had so many discussions about it. Of course they still believed in Him, they still wanted to go to church. Why would their sexuality change that?

"My parents are considering sending me to a camp this summer," Dan mentioned.

"What?" Phil said, shocked.

"I know, I'm going to have to convince them not to send me. I'd be 18, though, they wouldn't be able to force me to."

"Well, you're always welcome at my house, you know that," Phil reminded him. Dan nodded.

"I know," He said, giving him a smile.

"Good," Phil said, smiling back.

*

"Hey, I have a great idea," Phil said at lunch, sitting across from Dan. He raised an eyebrow at Phil.

"And that would be?"

"Skip fifth period and make out under the bleachers," Phil suggested.

"And they say romance is dead," Dan said dryly. Phil laughed and Dan cracked a smile. "But yeah, let's do that."

*

"No, I can't be gay. They don't want me to be gay," he cried, trying to hide his face. Dan didn't want anyone to notice he was crying, even though someone was bound to. He was sat in the principal's office, his English teacher, principal, best friend and maybe boyfriend Phil, and the guidance counselor crowded around him. Dan wished they would give him some space.

Him and Phil had gotten caught kissing underneath the bleachers by the English teacher during 5th period, which why they were in the office. They normally would have called their parents but considering the fact that both of their parents were extreme Christians it was decided against. The principal had then called the guidance counselor up to come and speak to them. "My parents are gonna kill me. Please don't tell them, please."

Dan tried to hide another sob, shuddering in the chair. He could feel everyone's gaze on him. It was nerve-wracking. Phil hesitantly placed his hand on Dan's back, rubbing it up and down, clearly trying to be soothing. When his parents heard he was going to be kicked out, he was sure of it.

Phil took a seat in the seat next to him. He reached his arm over the armrest, it wrapped around Dan's shoulder and pulled him as close as they could be with two armrests between them.

"We have to alert your parents, I'm sorry. You were skipping class and breaking school code, we legally have to inform them," The principal said from his desk. Dan wiped his arms once more, wiping the tears off of his cheeks that were still there. He really wished he hadn't started crying, it was embarrassing, to say the least. Phil had seen him crying but only once, and that was when he broke his arm when he was ten.

Dan closed his eyes, letting his head drop against Phil's shoulder. He wished he had never been stupid enough to skip class to kiss Phil under the bleachers.

*

"I want you out of this house. If you are old enough to be a homosexual, you are old enough to find a place to live," His dad said, opening the door to the house.  "You have an hour to pack."

Dan darted up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door and pulling his suitcase out of the closet and stuffing all the clothes he could into it. Then he grabbed his backpack and packed away his chargers and some more clothes. He quickly texted Phil, telling him he was about to walk over to his house with his stuff. Grabbing his favorite pillow and a toothbrush, he trampled down the stairs. Once outside of the door, he started the walk to Phil's house. He never looked back.

*

Years had passed, Dan and Phil were still dating and still in love.

After they graduated they went to the same college, even sharing a dorm together. It made them closer and they felt more in love than ever before.

Both of them felt at home in their new church, a place that was accepting to all people, no matter what. They loved it.

Dan was a teacher, something he had always wanted to do. He loves his job, the kids, and his coworkers. He was happy and content and loved going into work everyday.

His parents hadn't talked to him since he was 17 on the day that they kicked him out. He was devastated for months after but eventually became happier than ever before, thanks to Phil and his family.

Phil was a video editor. He worked from home, which is very important considering they had just adopted a three year old from China. She was the light of their world and they couldn't wait for her to grow up with them.

They would be better parents than Dan's had been. He was sure of it. And that's what was important.

[thegirlsinthefirehouse]

Descendants, Chapter 25

-----

“Okay,” said Erin, looking at Patty, Holtz, and Cheyenne. 

They were all in older clothes and their hair tied up. Both Holtz and Cheyenne had theirs up in bandannas. They were standing in the baby’s room on the third floor of the firehouse.

“David, Zack, and Kevin are in the guest rooms painting, and we’re going to help each other in between coats. We’re painting the nursery. Paint cloths are down to protect the floors. Please be careful as to not move them as this is a beautiful reclaimed hardwood from the old firehouse days. We’re going to try to get two coats up today so they can dry and Holtz can work on the murals later tonight. This is a fast drying paint, so two coats shouldn’t take more than six hours. Then the boys are going to help bring back in furniture, but we don’t have to help them with any of that. Holtz and Abby are going to take care of the arranging. We just have to get everything out of the various storage spots around the firehouse and back upstairs. We’ve got masks and gloves if anyone wants them, and we’ve got fans up for ventilation and to help with the drying.”

“We definitely need to get the baby diapers and bottles out of the client conference area,” said Patty. “I don’t think all that stuff will help inspire trust in our work come Monday.”

“You should be glad we only came down with all that stuff Friday night,” winked Holtzmann. “Because all the baby things are piling up here and we might have to start stockpiling downstairs.”

“Abby and I were already talking about making a donation box once everything is settled and in place,” said Erin.

“Not me?” scoffed Holtzmann. “I feel wronged! Wronged, I tell you.” She gestured wildly with her hands, pretending to be dramatic for whatever reason suited her.

“Best friends always come before spouses,” said Erin, sticking her tongue out at Holtz, who tried to look offended, but failed. Cheyenne laughed into Patty’s shoulder.

“We’re still getting free pizza and beer right?”

“And all the doughnuts and coffee your little heart desires Patty,” said Holtzmann. “I might even splurge for dinner.”

“As long as it’s somethin’ good,” said Patty with a small smile.

“There is that great Greek place down the way,” said Erin. “I vote for that.”

“Where is Abby?” asked Cheyenne.

“Downstairs, tucked safely away from all paint and fumes,” said Holtz. “She’s going to make all our food runs so I can get her out of here.”

“Overprotective,” said Patty to Cheyenne. “As always.”

“I still don’t know how Abby puts up with her sometimes,” said Erin. “I mean, really Holtzmann.”

“I could say the same thing about you Gil--” said Holtz, but cut herself off when she saw Abby coming up the stairs. She ran over to the doorway.

“Nope,” said Holtzmann. “Downstairs honey. The boys are already working.”

“Sorry Holtz, but this can’t wait,” said Abby grimacing. She marched over to Erin.

“The Mayor’s Assistant is here, and she’s brought a couple of members of the Public Safety Commission. They’re waiting to have a look around.”

“On today of all days,” said Patty, rolling her eyes.

“No, we can do this,” said Erin. “Abby, you and I will take care of them. We’ve got this.”

“Because there’s no fun like a surprise inspection,” said Holtz sarcastically.

“We’ll get rid of them,” said Abby. “It’s not like we haven’t been preparing for this. Everything is in order.”

“You hope,” said Patty. Abby nodded and grabbed Erin by the hand and they both headed downstairs.

“Don’t let them in my lab!” yelled Holtz.

“That’s probably the first place they will look Holtzy,” said Patty. “They know you’re probably hiding another large nuke somewhere.”

“It’s in plain sight,” grinned Holtz. “They won’t ever find it.”

“You mean the thing on top of the car?” asked Cheyenne.

“Nope, Abby’s earrings. Put them together and drop it at just the right height...” Patty rolled her eyes while Holtz demonstrated a large explosion. She grinned and wrapped her arm around her friend, which made Patty laugh. Holtz gestured upwards.

“I’ll take the long roller brush and paint the ceiling while you two paint the walls. We’ll let Erin go around the doorways and such when she gets back. She’s a stickler for details.”

“You’re painting the ceiling?” frowned Patty.

“I’m going to paint the constellations up there later on tonight,” Holtzmann said. “Once the blue is dry.”

“I can’t wait to see this,” said Cheyenne, looking interested.

“I might have to borrow your wife,” winked Holtzmann. “She’s the only thing tall enough around here for me to stand on.”

“I don’t think so Holtzy,” said Patty. “I ain’t your step-ladder.”

-----

“Well, that was complicated,” said Abby as she sat down on the couch downstairs. Erin sat down beside her and leaned her head on her best friend.

“Are we sure we want to add another team?”

Abby laughed. “Little late for that now, isn’t it?”

“It’s a good thing we were prepared,” said Erin. “Or they really would have gotten a hold of us.”

“Did you notice how Ms. Lynch kept looking at me?” asked Abby. “I’m starting to wonder whose safety she was really worried about.”

“Abby, you are nearly seven months pregnant. If you haven’t noticed, people do sort of pay attention to that sort of thing. You have a very cute round bump.”

“I can’t wait to be un-pregnant,” said Abby, not even bothering to be correct. “It feels like I can’t do much.”

“You can and you will,” smiled Erin. “Someone’s got to teach the new recruits the different classification of ghosts.”

“So basically anything that doesn’t involve any actual field work we do.”

“Yep.”

“Ugh,” said Abby, laying her head back against the couch. “I shouldn’t complain. I’m the reason I’m in this mess.”

“Yes,” Erin grinned. “You couldn’t say no to those blue eyes.” Abby rolled her own.

“You should go get back to them,” she said. “Tell them it’s all clear.” Abby picked up Erin’s arm and looked at the time on her watch.

“I’m sure it won’t be long till they want lunch, especially since the coffee and doughnuts were lacking because of the surprise inspection. You know how men are. If you don’t feed them every two seconds, they get cranky.”

“Do I have to?” whined Erin.

“You volunteered for this,” Abby responded. She winced and rubbed her side.

“And someone’s telling you that their room needs to be painted.”

“I can stay down here and keep you company.”

“I’d rather you go up there and get things done and I can sleep peacefully in my bed tonight knowing that it’s finished.”

“Umm...” said Erin, wincing. “You won’t be sleeping upstairs.”

“WHAT?!?!?!”

Erin looked sheepish. “You’re staying at my place tonight. Holtzmann insisted. I think she’s already packed you a bag too.”

“I’m going to kill her. She is getting way, way too overprotective.” Abby tried to get up off the couch but failed. Erin laughed, but bit down on her index finger knuckle to keep from doing so again. She watched as Abby slowed down and used the arm of the couch as support.

“I’m thinking for the next couple of months you need to avoid this couch.” Abby ignored her and headed for the stairs. When she saw Holtz coming down, she glared at her wife. Holtz looked at Erin.

“You told her didn’t you?”

Erin shrugged, trying not to smile at Holtz's mild discomfort.

“Abby... I have a plan. I’m going to be painting all night. I thought you might enjoy spending some... some fun time with Erin.” She started backing up at her wife’s fast approach. After nearly falling, she yelled for Patty to save her and ran up the stairs all the while flailing her arms. Abby sighed and turned and looked at Erin.

“Put the fear in her for me, would you?” Erin saluted like Holtz with a smirk and headed upstairs. Abby groaned. Her lover sometimes. Half the time if she didn’t just absolutely love and adore Jillian Holtzmann, she probably would be very annoyed by her.

-----

“I am so glad to be home,” said Erin after putting some of the leftovers that had been sent home with everyone from the day’s events in the fridge. She kicked off her shoes and laid her head in her husband’s lap. David chuckled and kissed her forehead.

“What time is Abby coming over?”

“Whenever she gets through chewing out Holtz and spitting her out.”

“So an hour or two then?”

“Five.”

David laughed and shook his head.

“I can’t blame Holtzmann though. She is just looking out for them in all the ways she can.”

“As she should be,” said Erin. “David...”

“I know Erin,” he said softly. “I saw how you kept stealing glances at Abby during dinner. I know you’d love to raise a little one with your best friend.”

“I don’t think Holtz would go for the partner swap though.”

“You know what I mean. Your kids growing up together, being best friends...”

“Is it wrong?” frowned Erin.

“No...” sighed David. “It isn’t.”

“What do you think?” asked Erin, sitting up. “About--”

David went quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know.”

“Fair... fair enough,” responded Erin. “I don’t want to push you into anything David. I--”

He smiled sadly and kissed her. Erin closed her eyes and kissed back. She loved being in the comfort of her husband, especially since he always seemed to worry about how she was doing.

“We can talk about it later,” he said. She hugged him, knowing what that answer meant in her heart. She pulled back.

“At least today is done.”

“I feel like I’m covered in paint,” said David. “Patty is more devious than I gave her credit for.”

“At least you don’t look like Holtzmann. She was quite determined to make sure that blonde hair turned blue.”

“Or Kevin.”

“That was Kevin’s own fault. He shouldn’t have tried to sneak up behind Cheyenne. We told him there would be consequences. He should have never let Patty corner him.”

“Everyone I think is going to need showers,” chuckled David.

Erin smiled. “I’m glad we got Abby to take that group picture.”

“I don’t think she was too pleased with the one Kevin’s husband took of Kevin rubbing her belly.”

“Kevin promised her a back rub in compensate. At least he’s been paying attention.”

David rubbed his black hair. “I think I’m going to go get a shower, then head to bed. Tell Abby I said good night.”

Erin nodded and he kissed her on the cheek as he got up and headed towards their bedroom. She propped her feet up on the couch and got comfortable. She knew it would take Abby a few minutes to stop arguing with Holtz and finally give up. All of them knew Holtz was being way overprotective. As long as the place was well ventilated, Abby would have been fine helping. She had wanted to help. But once Holtz got an idea in her head, it was stuck. And she was really stuck on this one. But Erin had a feeling that this day wasn’t so much about the paint, but about Holtz’s work this evening and how she wanted to surprise Abby with it.

At least they had all the basics done. All the rooms were painted and the furniture and things were moved back upstairs.

The doorbell rang and Erin got up to answer it. Abby was standing there with an overnight bag and a body pillow.

“I didn’t win.”

“Uh-huh,” said the redhead. “Didn’t expect you to.” She gestured for Abby to come in and closed the door behind her. “Holtzmann is a force of nature.”

“Tell me about it,” said Abby, taking off her jacket once she had sat her things down on a chair. “I’m scared to see what she’s going to be like when I’m actually in labor.” She headed over to the couch and sat down gingerly, rubbing her back.

“I think by that point, you’re not going to care, Abby,” mused Erin. “You’re just going to want the baby out of you.”

“I want the baby out of me now,” huffed Abby. “But 27 weeks is a little early.”

“Aim for 40 weeks,” said Erin. “It’s a good goal.”

Abby made a face. Erin chuckled and sat down. “I can’t wait to see you with an even bigger and round bump.” She patted her best friend’s shoulder while she made a face.

“Neither can Kevin,” said Abby. “I think Zack was amused by how Kevin kept wanting to feel the baby during dinner.”

“Think they are getting baby fever?” asked Erin.

“Who isn’t these days?”

“David,” said Erin with a sigh.

“He’ll come around,” said Abby. “Heaven knows I had to give it a lot of thought.”

“Maybe,” said Erin, a little soft and uneasy. “I’ve been thinking about adopting on my own.”

“Really?” Abby said, surprised. “You’re going to go through with it even if he doesn’t want to?”

Erin put a hand on Abby’s baby bump. “I want us to have kids together Abby.” She smiled at her friend. “We always wanted to do everything at the same time, and we almost did.”

Abby laughed. “I was not expecting this, however. Really should have been reversed.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Erin, grinning. “You being pregnant is my favorite thing.” Abby elbowed Erin.

“I want to see you with swollen feet.”

“I can’t wait to see you and Holtzmann holding your baby.”

“I just want to go back to work full-time,” sighed Abby. “We need a new... mystery.”

“You and Patty.”

“She has the right idea,” said Abby. She paused for a moment. “I’m glad the safety people are now taken care of, even if we had to run through the place and hide all the baby stuff.”

Erin nodded. “It’s something off our minds at least. Now we can get the new kids up and running.” She looked at Abby.

“Is Holtz still planning a ghost hunt with the penguins for them?”

“If she is, she hadn’t told me,” said Abby. She shook her head. “Really, Holtz?”

“Probably was going to try to keep that a secret for as long as possible,” chuckled Erin. “Are you and Holtzmann going to need help decorating?”

“I think we can do that,” said Abby. “I need to do something.”

“I think you’re just going to have to accept the fact that your wife thinks because you’re carrying the baby, you get off scot-free from everything.”

“I know,” Abby said, picking up her pillow and folded it, putting it at her back. “Maybe I need to talk to David.”

“Abby, no.”

“What? On your behalf...”

“So you want to argue with a law professor?”

“Well, I could mention that there was a recent study that said women over 35 getting pregnant are mentally much sharper later in life.”

“Yes, because I’m sure David is worried about my intelligence level.”

“You never know.”

“Now I know you went batty sitting downstairs while we were painting,” Erin huffed. Abby smirked. “I think I lost all sensibilities some time ago while waiting for you to come back around.” “You ready to get some sleep?” asked Erin, ignoring the barb.

“Might as well, said Abby. “Guest room?”

“Should be ready. I can get an extra blanket out of the closet if you think you’ll need one.”

“Erin...”

“Don’t say it, I know.”

Abby sighed and put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“Just be careful, okay?”

Erin nodded and hopped up off the couch. Abby wished she could get up that quickly as she carefully stood to follow her best friend. <– Prev | Next –>