#thea shut up in the tags challenge

[wiseatom]

got jump scared by mike wheeler at work today

[enigma-im]

First Day of Christmas...

Trope: Childhood friends who remeet as adults Relationship: Orc x Human Word Count: 3,323

I wander around by the creek during a hot summer day. My mother has warned me against traveling here alone, but the chance of catching a frog to terrorize the other kids is far too tempting. With a stick in hand, pants legs rolled up, I waddle through the shallow. Little fish swim by my toes, frogs scurrying out from under the mud. The task is far more challenging than I thought. I poke the stick at every leaping creature, falling short every time.

"What are you doing," a boy asks from the other side of the creek. Startled, I snap to attention, looking at a small orc. He looks to be older than me, definitely taller, but how can I know?

"catching frogs," I answer.

"really? Why," he asks.

"I don't know," I grumble," because frogs are neat." I look to my feet, spotting a frog lazily swimming by. I ready my stick, slowing guiding it towards it's back. As fast as I can manage I push down. Crouching down I look to the stick, huffing in frustration as I'm left empty-handed.

"Why a stick," he interrupts my pity party.

I shrug," it's how Tommy Howser caught his frog."

"Well Tommy Howser is an idiot," he chuffs, bending down to roll up his pants.

"Oh yea," I snap," why is that?"

He trod through the water," because you're just stabbing the frog, so unless you want to eat them I suggest not poking them super hard with a stick."

The orc stops before me, snatching the stick from my hand with a huff. He tosses it aside before looking around. I watch him, observing his small tusks and short shaggy hair. I've never seen an orc with short hair. He catches my attention, pointing to the shore. I spot a frog resting on the bank, the water barely lapping at its body. The orc sneaks over, hands raised as he angles himself. Quickly, he strikes out, cupping his hands around the frog. He pinches the little creature by the legs, making it stretch out as he walks over all smug.

"See, Tommy Howser is an idiot," he grins. I ignore the jab, waddling over to look at the frog.

"Whoa," I reach out and pet it," you were so fast!"

"Of course I am," he puffs his chest," I am orc, orcs are meant to be quick and strong."

I don't pay him any mind, stretching out my hands," can I hold it?"

"Yea," he arranges his grip," pinch him around the legs and he can't hop away." I nod eagerly. I do as he says, pinching the legs, holding it with utter fascination. The little guy wiggles in my hand, it's legs trying to kick, but he can't get away. I admire it's dark green skin, comparing it to the orc's similar tint.

"I'm Lum, by the way," he says.

I smile up at him," I'm Thea. You think you can teach me how to catch a frog?"

"Of course I can," he thumps his chest," I can teach you anything."

We spend the afternoon waddling around the creek, catching and releasing frogs together.

The summer is spent similarly to that day. We upgrade from frogs to fish, from fish to birds. I learn a great deal about hunting from him, enjoying myself more than I ever have. I even get to teach him a few things, though nothing as useful as what he teaches me. The day I find out he doesn't know what tag is, is the day I begin my mission to play every child's game I know.

In the middle of fall, I sit down next to Lug eating lunch. He has been silent most of the day, barely saying anything even when I bait him into a conversation.

"What's wrong, Lug," I finally ask, setting my apple down. He sighs, dropping his head.

"I'm leaving next week," he pouts.

"Leaving," I ask," where?"

"I don't know, just south," he answers," my ma told me we have to follow the herd for winter."

I scoff," I don't even know what that means. Why would you follow a herd?"

He smiles, turning to me," we follow the herd so we don't starve. The land becomes barren in the winter and we need to eat a lot as orcs. So if we follow the herd, we can follow the food."

I huff, arms crossed," well I don't like it." Lug chuckles, scooching closer to give me a side hug.

"It's ok, Thea, we come back here every spring. So I'll be back, it will just be a while," he squeezes my shoulder," besides, it's not like I can teach you anything in the winter anyway. Everything is migrating or hibernating that hunting here would be difficult."

I push off his arm, pouting as I turn my back on him," I don't care, I want my friend here."

I hear him sigh, the leaves crunching as he walks around. His feet stop in front of me, crouching to catch my eye. I give in, looking at his stupid cocky face. He drops a hand onto my shoulder.

"I'll be back by the time the last snowfall melts, I swear it," he places his hand on his heart," I make an oath to always come back."

I snort back some snot," you better."

"I will. Now enough with this mushy stuff," he stands," I bet I can catch more frogs than you."

I hop up to my feet," you wish!"

The winter was sad, like many after that. As he promised he comes back every spring, meeting me by the creek with a cocky smile and slightly longer hair. He always has something new to teach me, happy to do so. My father doesn't much care for it once he found out, but I could hardly care.

My parents find out about Lug the first spring he came back. They noticed my dower mood during the winter then my grand smile in the spring. To my surprise they were alright with Lug, asking to meet him. We share a meal, my father asking way too many questions till mother shoos us off to play.

Every spring is started with a meal with my parents then a long recap on our winter. It's a lovely tradition that lasts a few years.

Lug and I are strong friends well into the years. Things hardly change between us, being close as ever. We play and fight, arguing and making up quickly. Growing into our own as we become teenagers. My father hovers around then, setting curfews and weird rules. The attitude change with my father and Lug is one I had to confront Lug about. He waved it off as nothing, distracting me easily.

It isn't till 15 that I understand why father was so uptight with Lug's and I's friendship. Weeks of build-up brings me to startling discoveries about new wants. I've been looking at Lug in a new light, noticing him doing the same. He is my first kiss, sharing an awkward chaste one near the creek. It's weird and right at the same time. That summer we learn very different things besides hunting and gathering. Kisses become way more enjoyable after a while.

My sixteenth year is the worst year of my life.

Fall approaches too fast, I've never had a reason to hate fall until Lug came into my life. The trees changing colors now puts me in a sour mood. The walk to the creek knowing that it may be the last time this year that I get to is troublesome. Though Lug has ways of distracting me from those thoughts until he has to wave goodbye that evening.

I meet Lug by the creek like usual, plopping down beside him with a huff. He seems far worse than I do today, the worry rising more and more the longer he stays silent. I grab his hand, threading my fingers between his.

"What's wrong," I bump his shoulder. He sighs, squeezing my hand in his.

"I have something to tell you that I know you won't like," he starts, his voice low and angry. It's rare to hear him angry, only truly seeing him mad once when his father forbade him from joining the hunting pack when he was a fresh teen.

"You can tell me anything, I can take it," I try to be courageous. It's easier to act strong when he needs it.

"I'm leaving for a little longer than before," he glances at me out the corner of his eye.

"W-well, that's ok," I try to be optimistic," I've waited months for you, what's a few more?"

He winces," it's not going to be just a few months."

I stutter on my attempt of cheer," a-a year? That's ok, I'll be fine. It's just one year, right?" he looks up to me, his eyes a bit red. My heart squeezes at the sight.

"It's a lot longer than a year, Thea," he answers. My throat tightens, threatening to choke me.

"H-How long," I ask, trying to fight back the stinging in my eyes.

"I don't know, I just know it's going to be a long time," he says, reaching out to cup my face," but I promise I'll be back. I will come back for you." he tugs my head down, resting his forehead against mine.

I sniffle," you better," I mimic the words I said that first time. He chuckles, lifting my hand and twisting it palm up. His hand covers mine, something cold sitting between our palms.

"I vow to you that I'll be back, and you know an orc never breaks their vows," he thumps his chest. I clench whatever's in my hand as I laugh.

"Yea, I know," a tear rolls down my cheek. He pets the drop away, pulling me in for a kiss. It's bittersweet, but sweet nonetheless.

We sit like this, holding one another for longer than necessary. He reluctantly lets me go, getting up off the ground. We part with a final kiss, neither one of us ready to let go knowing that we won't see one another tomorrow.

"I love you, Thea," he pecks my forehead.

I shut my eyes," I love you too, Lug."

He leaves me standing near the creek. I cry to myself, nearly falling back to the ground in my pain. I finally look to my hand, uncurling my fingers to see a thread with a wooden totem attached to it. I smile despite it all, admiring the little carving with care. I'll see him again, even if I have to wait a lifetime.

Fall becomes winter, winter becomes spring. It's hard to see the snow melt knowing that Lug won't be waiting for me. I still end up waiting by the creek, looking at the frogs as I remember the many failed attempts of snatching one. Every year I come back to the creek, hoping that this year would be the year. I always leave feeling a little more empty.

Time goes on as I grow into my own, no longer a bumbling teen but a grown woman. I get my first job at a bakery, working for a family friend until their son can take up the business. It's humbling work, though suitors take the chance to flirt while I cook in the back. My father is rather angry that I shoo off the young men trying to get a nibble of something more than pastries. I can't bring myself to argue with him.

I gain my second job at a bar, working as a waitress in my 20s. The lively people bring on a new level of enjoyment that the bakery didn't have. Fellows still take the chance to flirt but it's easier to cast aside as they are mostly drunk. Travelers come in, sharing tales of the adventures that make the time go by quicker. I like my job, though going home makes the emptiness inside louder.

I wipe up the bar, picking up empty glasses and litter as I go. The night is rather dull, only having the normal regulars in. it's to be expected as the winter comes to an end. Business should pick up as spring begins and the critters come out of their holes for mating season. The bell at the front door rings, catching my attention.

I look up to see an orc walking in.He is rather large, clearly strong, and proud of it. His hair is braided down his back, beads adorning a few smaller strands. He is very handsome like most orcs are. I don't pay him any mind, use to orcs quickly finding their spots and calling out their orders.

Polishing a glass I catch sight of the orc sitting in front of me at the bar. His large hands rest clasped on the bar top, a ring resting around his thumb.

"Hello," I smile sweetly at them," what can I get ya?"

He smirks, dropping his eyes to his hands," Fire Brandy, please."

"Please? Already the most polite customer I've had this month," I tease as I grab a tumbler, pouring his brandy.

"Is please such an unused word nowadays? Damn the discipline of mothers, not teaching their children manners," he jokes back. I snort, passing him his drink.

"well said," I knock on the bar," a please and a thank you can get you far these days."

"That right? The only thing it's gotten me is brandy and a word of praise from a cute barmaid," he smirks.

I fluster at his words, turning away to grab a dry rag," don't know about that last bit but I hope you know basic manners doesn't pay for your drink."

"Damn," he huffs," what's the point now, ain't getting anything out of it."

"Gets my respect," I offer.

He pretends to ponder," I'll take it."

I smile to myself, focusing on polishing the glasses. The orc watches me, drinking his brandy slowly. I pass him a few glances, blushing each time he offers me a smile. He really is cute, but I can't say that I'm too interested.

"Lovely necklace you have there, can't say that I've seen that totem too often," he says. My hand immediately grasps the little wood craving, my heart fluttering with the action.

"Yea, a friend made it for me," I answer casually.

"A friend? I don't think that's what that totem means," he leans forward on the bar, inspecting the carving.

"Well, friends is just an easier term. We weren't lovers, being too young for something like that," I blush at the idea.

"Yea? Don't mind telling me about this 'friend' while I waste some time," he asks. I can't help but jump at the offer, wanting to finally break the seal that's bound these memories away. Mother and Father didn't want to hear about Lug so often. Which is understandable.

"No, you don't wanna hear a story of lost love," I shuffle away, putting the freshly polished glasses away.

"Of course I do, what better story than one with young love," he rests his chin on his head," please, I'd love to hear it."

I watch him, nearly smiling at his devoted attention. With a sigh, I lounge against the bar.

"We met when we were like eight, at least I was eight. I was catching frogs by the creek when he just appeared across the way," I start.

"Why were you catching frogs? I thought little girls hated that kind of stuff," he asks.

I shrug," I wanted to show off to the boys that I could catch a frog too. One of them said he caught one using a stick to trap it against the dirt. I wanted to try it."

He scoffs," why would anyone use a stick to catch a frog?"

"I don't know," I laugh," he probably didn't want to get his hands dirty."

"Damn Tommy Howser," he shakes his head with a smile," such a wimpy boy."

"Yea, he was," I laugh with him," makes sense he moved out to the city then."

"He moved out to the city? Gods, his parents should have taken him there when he was a child," he scoffs. I can't help but smile, the words taking a bit longer to register. When it does, I startle.

"How did you know about Tommy Howser," I ask. He stiffens.

"Uh, I heard about him," he lies," from other people."

I cross my arms," what other people? Tommy hasn't lived here in three years." he flounders for another lie, falling short with a sigh of defeat.

"Hello, Thea," he nibbles on his cheek," I see you kept the necklace."

I freeze. It can't be, surely this large hulking orc couldn't possibly be him.

"Lug," I ask with a choked cry. He smiles wide, nodding. I can't speak, my eye stinging as I finally see the resemblance. He truly has grown into the man he always said he would be. As handsome as he was seven years ago.

Without much thought I jump over the bar, him helping me down before pulling me close. I hug him, my arms barely touching around his hulking frame. A sob rips from my throat as I cry tears of pure joy. He pets my back, nuzzling his head against mine.

"I'm sorry I took so long," he mumbles as he kisses my cheeks," I didn't expect to be gone so long. I apparently had a lot more to learn from the elders than I anticipated."

"You’re here now," I look up at him," that's all the matters."

Lug smiles like a fool before roughly pushes his lips against mine, his tusks way more prominent now than when we were kids. I cup his rough cheek, feeling the hairs prick at my palm. He is so different now, but still exactly the same. God, I've missed him.

We part, smiling like idiots in love. He wipes the tears off my face, I pet at his cheek. My heart feels ready to explode at the happiness coursing through my veins. Lug looks the same with his great toothy grin and wondering hands.

"I waited for you, I'm so glad I did," I look him over," you got hot."

He barks out a boisterous laugh," glad you think so, I got big and strong for you. And you…gods, you look amazing."

"oh stop," I blush.

"No," he tugs my hips to his," now that I finally have you I'm going to shower you with sweet praises and worship your body like a holy temple." I gulp, my insides turning to mush as he leans down to kiss at my neck.

"Whoa, let's slow down," I grab at his braid," I'm still at work."

He growls in frustration, pulling back," alright. How much longer?"

"Till close, which should be soon," I answer," you don't mind waiting around, right?"

"I've waited seven years, what's a few more hours to that," he says.

Lug keeps me company till the last patron leaves. The second I finish the last bit of cleaning he has me in his arms, kissing me breathless. He has half a mind to pull back, smiling down at my dazed face with glee.

I break out of his arms, grabbing his hand to tug him out the bar and into the cold night. I pull him down into a kiss, not able to hold off for another second.

"I love you, lug," I mumble against his lips.

"I love you too, Thea," he answers in kind.

"Are you going to take me home now," I ask with a wicked grin.

He growls, lifting me up and over his shoulder. I laugh, blushing as he palms my rear. I've missed him so much and we have a lot of time to make up.

[xlady-saya]

I want this touch to be familiar [Ch. 3]

Relationships: andrew/neil, side aaron/katelyn

Summary: Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It’s not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil’s hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he’s forced to acknowledge how much he’s allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

Tags: first time fic, p*rn with feelings, relationship study, fluff and communication, multichapter

Read on ao3!

They do in fact, kick Kevin out.

To say it's extremely satisfying is an understatement, and Andrew doesn't try to deny himself the feeling. In this case, it's deserved, and a long time coming.

Kevin's not happy about it, especially since they offer him no further explanation. They've never asked for privacy so explicitly; Andrew never realized it before, how they’re used to accommodating everyone else, used to waiting until Kevin and the Foxes aren’t around to have their time to themselves.

Rushed, heated, timed.

This had been different. This time Andrew let himself be greedy. Nicky at least reads the mood well enough to make himself scarce. Andrew doesn’t care about the teasing; he’s adamant about his reasons, the need to carve out time to navigate this new experience. Not only that...but something possessive and antsy fuels him in the moment. This is just for him and Neil.

He won't risk a walk in and a hasty cover up.

All Andrew has to do is drop Thea's name and threaten to do Neil in the locker room for Kevin to finally get the damn hint and fuck off.

Dealing with Kevin is familiar territory, even post their deal. It's nicer, letting him fend for himself while not cutting the relationship loose entirely, but Andrew's concept of friendship is one he's still exploring and definitely not something he needs to think about right now.

Right now...right now is not familiar territory.

He walks back to the bedroom as Kevin mutters about having to leave, out of Andrew's mind before he's even out of sight.

He's distracted, so focused, lost.

There are glimpses of the familiarity he craves though, remembered through his own fingertips and his memory. The promise of soft lips and scars that follow the curve of a runner's body, hips pressed down and warmth. Neil.

Neil, who is ready and fresh from an extra long shower.

As soon as he crosses into the bedroom, the presence is electric, Andrew almost thinks the static will shoot from his fingertips. He doesn't know how Neil ever survived on the run, how he ever blended in. His everything is loud. Before the slam of the front door even echoes through the dorm room, Andrew's eyes are on him. It would almost be amusing, seeing the little jump of Neil's shoulders at the intensity, if he wasn't so taken by the mere sight of him.

Of course he finds his gaze already returned by the striker, all fire and an almost beckoning quality.

Nicky would probably call the look 'fuck me eyes,' and for once Andrew is inclined to agree.

He intends to.

A shiver runs down his spine at the thought; he watches Neil bite his bottom lip, plush beneath his teeth, and Andrew licks his own from the muscle memory. He’s chased after those lips so many times…He wants to bite down, to claim them, as if he has to. Neil only ever looks at him, and the fantasy already begins to cloud Andrew's mind.

He’s it for Neil, Andrew’s brain tells him then, stroking the flame. His first. Andrew pushes that thought away, too optimistic, too ideal, and fiercely territorial. The thought he’ll have Neil forever…it’s too much to bring into the equation.

Especially when Neil won't stop rubbing his fucking thighs together.

The striker squirms in place on the bed, not subtle in the slightest as he checks Andrew out from head to toe. Neil lingers on the line of Andrew’s shoulders, swallowing a second after. Andrew revises; nothing about Neil is subtle these days, so he shouldn’t be this surprised.  That smart, short-tempered mouth and looks which attract the whole crowd at Eden's.

And yet, Neil never gave a damn about anyone else.

Right then, the reminder cracks the walls around him.

Because they both think about this. They both want. Neil doesn't try to hide from him.

Nerves, excitement, and all the things Andrew cannot express are reflected back at him with how Neil leans back without thinking about it, stretching out.

When Andrew huffs the ghost of a laugh, his walls beginning to crumble, Neil's eyes brighten in interest.

This is ridiculous. It's so ridiculous, because Neil should be the farthest thing from sexy right then. He's in his armbands and one of Andrew's old ratty shirts, the one he's told Neil time and time again to throw away but to no avail. The loose threads and dulled color bring Andrew back to a time where Neil only wore old, thrifted clothes. Too big around the shoulders, neckline distorted, but Neil clings to it for comfort, not necessity. Not because he has nothing else or has to conserve his money.

'It's yours,' had been Neil's only explanation.

And can Andrew talk, with the chain around his neck?

Neil's wearing those heinous cargo shorts Matt bought him, with only one sock on his foot. The fool would dress like this everyday, with no sense of matching or cohesiveness, if Andrew didn't pick his damn outfits.

There's nothing like what's in the movies; nice suits, tailored clothes, lingerie...

It's the farthest thing from a fantasy. But this Neil, in all his mundanity, is nothing short of a wet dream to Andrew. The other end of a leash. The striker must notice the change, the darkening of Andrew's eyes, and the small whimper goes straight to Andrew's cock.

Oh yes, the only problem with Neil's clothes is the fact they're still on.

As he slams the door to the bedroom shut, it finally hits Andrew what they're about to try. Of course, they've talked about it, planned it, he's known for days. Regardless, the air around him feels like glass, making it hard to move but easy to break if he tries. This tension...it's terrible and exhilarating all at once.

Neil knows just how to push him to get him moving; he stops squirming long enough to spread his legs, leaving the perfect slot for Andrew to fit, and that's when the glass shatters.

There's a lot in his head as he stalks towards Neil, throwing off his jacket in the process. Roland's advice exchanged over texts, his own research, and countless conversations. And yet above it all is just Neil, Neil, Neil.

Andrew doesn't have time to linger on how he doesn't even hesitate to pull off his shirt, to be so exposed in front of someone without a second thought. His armbands stay; he’s not quite sure he can handle that along with what they’re about to do. Neil's sharp intake of breath at the sight of his abs, his biceps, is enough to override any of that.

Neil surges up to meet him.

Andrew's hands fly to Neil's shoulders as their lips meet, like a punch of desperation. Neil, as always pushes back against Andrew, as if to challenge him. Andrew is almost positive he does it on purpose, just so Andrew will show his strength. He pushes Neil back down onto the bed, and Neil’s excited gasp proves him right. The urge to corral all the limitless energy buzzing beneath Neil's skin is so strong Andrew doesn’t know what to do about it. He wants to expend it all, make Neil boneless and sated.

He growls and nips Neil's bottom lip, boxing him in without pressing down. Where to start? He wants to do it all.

'Don't rush into it,' Roland's voice says, and Andrew fights the urge to kick it to the curb, to force it away with such viciousness it astounds him. He doesn't want to think about anything else, just this, just Neil moaning yes for things Andrew hasn't asked yet. He just wants to have.

Neil's groan is way too filthy for just a kiss and is not helping to make his self-control any easier. Andrew coaxes Neil's tongue out slowly in response, bringing their pace down if only slightly. Slow, patient. He knows the bartender was right, he can't rush this. He needs Neil to be relaxed, feeling good...

Andrew’s brain starts to fill with all the reminders, the advice.

His brain unhelpfully states that he should be feeling that way too, should be turned on, but rigidness begins to creep into his veins anyways. No, no. He can’t fixate on that. He forces it to the back of his mind, but he knows his body language betrays him. He keeps Neil's hands pinned to the mattress with one of his own, unable to handle the touch, and he holds the strikers jaw with the other. He forgot how this feels, the need to keep Neil restrained. It's been so long...

He licks into Neil's mouth to distract him, teasingly, like he's mapping it out. He can't deny it feels so warm, burning, the whine he rips from Neil's throat for his actions. The sloppiest of kisses, just because he can, just because it makes Neil's hips twitch.

Yes, get worked up for me.

This is what needs to happen, but...

Next. Next, next--

The rustle of the condoms he laid out on the bed calls his attention, so does the new bottle next to them. Research...foreplay, slow, steady, now?

He gets lost in the kiss, but his actions lose their sense of purpose. Stalling. He pins Neil's tongue down, tries to draw out those delicious sounds so they drown out his erratic heartbeat, his thoughts.

"Andrew..."

The sound of Neil's voice is muffled, like it's underwater. Oh, this is definitely unfamiliar. Neil’s voice has never failed to be a lighthouse in the stormy bay.

He's not hard, he realizes. Andrew's not hard. Even with Neil nearly rutting against him, taken apart by just a kiss...he's...

The arousal surges only to be snuffed out by his own distraction each time, his own fixation on how he needs this to go down. Minimal damage.

But if it doesn't feel good...

It should, because it's Neil. With Neil, it's never supposed to be about a checklist.

It's just--

Andrew freezes when Neil's hands tremble beneath his, a weak, almost questioning attempt to pull free. He pulls back, staring down at Neil's eyes, already clouded and drowsy with how Andrew makes him feel.

Andrew pauses a moment, considering before he lets Neil free. Neil’s slow about it, sliding his hands out from under Andrew’s, feeling the calloused skin like it’s all he wants. Andrew lets him look his fill. The trust is no longer the issue.

And god, Neil is so damn nosy about everything. In how he tracks Andrew's face, searching again and finding...something. Neil turns his head into his shoulder, suppressing a grin.

Andrew nearly scowls. What are you smiling about?

If he's being honest, trying to get into Neil's head is one of the biggest challenges there is in his life, and it's self-created. He need only ask to receive, but Neil also doesn’t leave him waiting.

Neil's hands move purposefully, where Andrew can see and track them. They still just above Andrew's shoulders, and with a whispered ‘yes’ from Andrew’s lips, they slide down, rubbing tantalizing circles along his muscles.

He jolts from it, and Neil’s smile brightens.

Andrew’s one giant knot of tension; he hadn't even realized it, but then Neil starts undoing the chords. Andrew allows himself a slow exhale, and Neil swipes his tongue over the column of his throat. Andrew's cock twitches in interest for the first time, and Neil’s lips curve against his skin.

Someone with a penchant for starting fights should not have this calming effect.

One of Neil's hands comes to tangle in the silver chain around Andrew's neck, pulling him closer. Tease, a menace even.

Andrew is completely entranced.

Neil nips the underside of his chin before pulling back, not breaking eye contact as he hooks two fingers into his own waistband. Andrew's breathing stops, and Neil strips off his shorts and underwear in one alluring movement. Neil's not a master at seduction, he simply knows what gets under Andrew's skin.

Those damn legs.

“Hm?” Neil hums as his knee lightly brushes against Andrew's groin, pausing to apply pressure, and oh...Neil should not be so good at this.

It leaves Andrew feeling a little conflicted; where did Neil learn this?

Once, while wiping Andrew's cum from the corner of his lips, Neil had simply said 'My mind might not be the fastest learner, but the rest of me is.'

This whole thing applies. If Neil senses Andrew's nerves, he seldom comments on it, but he never hesitates to start trying to help.

'Help' even when it's him being a shit.

"Come here." Neil's words are not a soft encouragement, nor are they a command. It's like it's a fact, a prophecy, like there isn't another direction Andrew can possibly go. Andrew glares at him, thinks about defying him just because, but the rigidness from before is almost gone. There's a tightness in his abdomen, a heat. Arousal, not wariness.

Also, Neil is very naked from the waist down, and very willing.

So Andrew lets himself be led back up, standing at the side of the bed while Neil gets comfortable, situating his face right in front of Andrew's fly. He tries not to let his interest show too much, but he guesses he fails when Neil smirks up at him. With practiced movements, Neil makes sure Andrew gives him a ‘yes’ before hastily undoing his belt and pants, the hunger in his eyes nearly too much. He pulls Andrew's half-hard cock out, shoving his pants down enough to bite at the V of Andrew's hips.

Andrew grunts at the feeling of Neil's breath against him, the striker’s hand wrapping firmly around his cock and spitting on it to slick it up. Andrew's hand finds Neil's hair automatically, like he's used to doing when Neil goes to suck him off. Neil loves the encouragement, writhes from it.

When Neil hands him the bottle of lube, Andrew gets it.

The position, the request...

Andrew yanks at the underside of Neil's knee, spreading his legs and bringing him closer, the perfect angle for--

"Neil," Andrew warns as Neil starts to stroke him slow, paying way too close attention to how his cock begins to swell. Andrew's voice fills with the strain to keep down a groan.

Fast learner. Right.

With a hum, Neil guides Andrew's hand, the one holding the bottle, in between his thighs. The implication is clear, and Neil’s skin is still warm and flushed from when he probably cleaned himself.

Andrew digs his hand into Neil’s hair at the thought.

"We're sharing, remember?" Neil says, almost innocently, like he's not asking Andrew to finger him open for the first time while he drools all over his dick. Andrew won't mistake this for something else, he knows it's nothing short of consideration for him.

Andrew wants to snap that Neil doesn't need to do this, doesn't need to try and distract Andrew from the whirlwind in his head. He doesn't need help, to get him out of his weird fog so he can actually get it up--

Neil swipes his tongue over the head of Andrew's cock and his breathing stutters, cutting off all thought for a blissful second.

"I want to do this how we always do it," Neil says then, eyes dangerous as he watches precum bead on the tip, evidence of Andrew's desire. There’s a seriousness locked underneath his tone. "I want you to feel good."

How we always do it...

He isn’t wrong; there's an edge to Neil's statement, a reinforcement. This is still us. No expectations, no pressure, only...

Andrew sets the bottle down so he can squeeze the flesh of Neil's thigh, soaking in the gasp he gets for it. He tugs Neil's head up to kiss him, deep and promising, before letting him get back to what he's good at. Using his mouth.

Andrew swallows, forcing down the unnecessary noise. He rids himself of the unessentials, the countless hours of research and text conversations with Roland, clinging to what he needs and not what overwhelms. He brings himself back to the basics therapy taught him. Breathing, grounding himself.

That's all he can do. He of all people, should've known there's no exact formula for this.

It's still us.

Us.

And that...that is one of four truths. Another deep breath, and Andrew embraces their first attempt.

"Tell me if it hurts," Andrew says, demands as he massages Neil's knee, watching his cock leak all over the bed. His hand glides up, grazing Neil's balls and teasing the sensitive skin.

Neil nods, so needy, and flicks his tongue out again over Andrew's shaft. Neil always does this, and it's so annoying because Andrew can't help but be so smug about it. Neil will stroke Andrew's cock leisurely for a few seconds, watching it grow until it's heavy and thick in his hand.

Trembling, Andrew uncaps the bottle and smears some lube on his fingers, letting some drip onto Neil's inner thighs just because. "Junkie."

Neil doesn't apologize for making him wait. "I like watching," he says, almost hazy. "I like knowing I can get you this excited."

Andrew has Neil lift his leg, positioning him so he can rub his fingers over Neil's entrance. There's a moment where Neil tenses from the feeling, but then he's relaxed again, focused on Andrew.

He never stopped to think Neil attending to Andrew's needs would also help to relax him.

"I hate you," Andrew says, so resigned, and Neil's smile is smug as can be.

He gives a squeeze to the base of Andrew's cock, pressing the head to his cheek. "I think this means you like me."

Andrew burns the image into his head.

"There are better uses for your mouth," Andrew snaps, but Neil is already swallowing him whole, hollowing out his cheeks so his cock can sit heavy and warm in his mouth. Neil's eyes flutter shut, freezing in place for an agonizing second, and Andrew guesses he's not the only one who savors these things. He feels Neil swallow around him, and petulantly holds in his moan. Neil’s eyes flutter open to glare playfully before he’s moving, steady and easy, in retaliation. The feeling is enough to pull grunts out of Andrew, and he feels his stomach jump from the slide of Neil’s mouth, but not enough to make him come too fast.

Neil's hand rests against Andrew's stomach, feeling every twitch.

Andrew tugs Neil's shirt up as far as he can, the scars grounding him. He needs something else to focus on, not to get out of his own head this time, but just to stop himself from thrusting into Neil's mouth.

The idiot is already prone to making himself choke from his own enthusiasm, he doesn't need Andrew helping.

With that in mind, Andrew digs deep for the gentlest touch he can manage, and presses his finger into Neil. It's not something he's ever been good at, softness; he's a rock. Firm, rough, but something to keep Neil safe. His hands are deadly and harsh, but for this...

He tries.

His finger pushes inside slowly, thumb pressed against the underside of Neil's balls to give him some relief. He feels Neil jolt from the foreignness, but he doesn't push away. No grimace, no fear. Andrew wonders what it feels like...

A dark part of him whispers that he should know, but rationale sets in. No, he wouldn't. Not this, not something wanted and craved. Neil gasps with Andrew's cock still in his mouth, hand shaky where he strokes what his mouth can't reach. And Andrew...Andrew didn't think about this part.

Andrew isn't prepared, could've never been prepared for how warm Neil is. He sighs as he pushes in and out slowly, the slick sounds barely audible over the sounds from Neil's throat. Neil's messy when it comes to these things, and his fist is wet where it pumps Andrew. That, together with the loud swallows, is deafening.

And of course, Neil is so impatient. Andrew takes his sweet time for them both, since at this point he has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep from getting too close to the edge. The thought of his cock replacing his finger, squeezed so tight...

Neil's hips start to roll back, not familiar or sure of the touch, but more comfortable with it. And hellbent on provoking Andrew further, even if involuntarily.

He pushes Neil's damp bangs away from his hair, a silent warning to slow it down, and thankfully the striker does. He takes his mouth away, but keeps his hand stroking agonizingly slow. Andrew tears his gaze away from the line of spit connected to Neil’s mouth.

Can’t lose focus, but Neil’s always made that hard.

Andrew takes another deep breath before he pushes in another finger, and the pattern repeats. He waits for Neil's hips to start chasing the sensation, and then he stretches him, letting him feel the ghost of the real thing. He watches Neil's brow furrow, little whimpers starting to leave his mouth, unsure. They increase in volume as his hips thrust back a little more eagerly, legs trembling, choked gasps a little too close to Andrew’s name. The confusion in his eyes blends so brilliantly with the arousal.

For a moment, Andrew wonders if Neil is uncomfortable, but then the puzzle pieces line up. It doesn't take Andrew long to realize what it is. Neil feels good, likes this, and that it hasn't quite sunk in for him that he does.

Oh Neil, a fast learner huh?

Something primal stirs in Andrew's chest at knowing Neil loves being fingered open, legs spread and thighs sticky. This just means Andrew can take him apart this way now, can learn how to do it best so Neil’s eyes roll back. They won't always need to go all the way, he can do this simply because Neil will come completely undone from it. Fingering Neil against a wall, stretching him until he comes...

He maybe jumps ahead too fast. Andrew adds another digit quickly, roughly, and Neil yelps. The sound quickly dissolves into a whine and a shiver, and Andrew freezes.

As if he can't believe the feeling, Neil presses his hand against his own abdomen, feeling it jump.

"O-Oh," Neil hiccups, and Andrew refuses to move. He hates it, but despite his consideration for Neil, his mind is fogged because...

Shit, Neil feels so tight.

"Okay?" Andrew asks, and when did his voice get so low? It's throaty, drenched in barely held restraint, and Neil shivers from it.

"Y-yeah," Neil says with a nod and a ghost of a laugh. Stupid, so stupid-- "It's different but..."

Neil blinks, lost, staring at some faraway place Andrew can't reach.

Neil cannot leave him hanging like this right now. Not when Andrew is two seconds away from putting an end to it.

"Neil."

The harshness makes the striker groan, hiding his face in a rare show of embarrassment. "I'm okay. Just...your fingers...fuck Andrew, you're going to be inside me."

Andrew leans down and kisses him hard; he just needs it, needs to communicate some of the tumultuousness going on inside of him. It never gets easier, having his feelings mirrored so easily. How the hell does Neil know how he feels without realizing?

His fantasies, his desires…

Shared.

Neil, never knowing when he shut up, whispers into the kiss. "It feels so good..."

The excitement shows; Neil's legs try to lift where Andrew is keeping them apart. Briefly, he imagines smearing his come over Neil's thighs, since the striker tends to rub them together when he's excited, like he's trying to do now.

Andrew gives Neil something then, his noises, the groans he normally keeps back, if only to make Neil keen. He always did like making Andrew lose control.

"Feel good?" Andrew says, almost mocking, and decides to finally pull something else from the necessary information he kept at the front of his mind.

He hooks his fingers inside Neil, searching for the angle until--

"Holy fuck," Neil yells, with no regard for anyone who might be through the walls. That's alright; the mouthiness was never a turn off. Neil gives a full body spasm, shock and disbelief at war on his face. His jaw hangs open, and Neil brings his hand up to press the back of it to his mouth.

So reactive.

Andrew nearly smirks as he leans in; well, that wasn't so hard to find.

"Feel that?" He asks, watching Neil fist the sheets with his other hand.

The striker swallows, panting hard. "W-what--"

"Now, now," Andrew sighs, not covering up his amusement very well. "Pay attention this time."

He presses his fingers into the spot again, and Neil's back arches beautifully. Runners...Andrew guesses they're not so bad.

"Fuck--fuck yes," Neil cries out, chest heaving. It almost compels him to do it again, but with Neil so on edge, this will end before they can even try to go further. The desperation in Neil's eyes, the satisfaction, is enough to soothe some of the anxiety in the pit of Andrew's stomach.

"Do it again," Neil demands, nearly pleads, trying to roll his hips to do it himself.

It takes all of Andrew’s self-control to not obey, which is terrifying. No one tells Andrew what to do, he hates to give in, but with Neil like this it's like a siren song.

Yet, he manages. "No."

He squeezes the base of his cock again, still leaking from Neil's earlier attention.

If I watch you react like that I'll come.

As if realizing the same thing, Neil petulantly leans forward to tongue at Andrew's cock, and Andrew pulls him back by the hair.

Neil, the idiot, pushes against the hold teasingly, riling them both up.

“Antsy,” Andrew scoffs, as if part of him doesn’t burn because of it.

Andrew uses the distraction to scissor his fingers one last time inside Neil, careful to avoid his prostate. Neil winces at the stretch and Andrew waits, lets Neil adjust, and between the sounds of their heaving breaths he allows himself to give some more.

"So warm," he sighs, actually sighs, and Neil’s answering groan is too debauched, his cock twitching from the praise. Andrew files that away for later.

He’s been filing a lot of things away for later, good things.

"Yeah?" Neil challenges, because it's what he does. "Then c'mon."

And right now...a 'no' would be a lie. Andrew pulls his fingers out, and joins Neil on the bed with shaky limbs, grabbing Neil's hips to turn him over so his ass is in the air.

It's the first time Neil resists him. The striker fights the manhandling, keeping his eyes on Andrew's face. "Andrew, I want--"

"Neil--"

"But--"

"It'll hurt less this way," Andrew says, with hardly any room for argument. It would make it easier, that's what Roland said, and Andrew made sure not to lose that in the minefield of information he took in. "It'll be more comfortable for you."

Neil stares at him for a good long minute, as if that'll do anything. He's familiar enough with Andrew's tones to know there's not really room for argument here. Andrew's about to say they don't have to if Neil doesn't want to, but then Neil sighs.

"Okay," he says, nodding. "I want to see your face next time though."

The promise of next time is too much to think about right then, made worse by Neil's next request. "Kiss me?"

Like of all things, that's too much to ask. Like Andrew doesn't seal everything between them with a kiss and a firm touch. Andrew leans forward, surprisingly slow, and catches Neil's lips softly. Steadying, deep, while he grabs a handful of Neil’s ass.

Neil shivers when he pulls away, turning around and pressing his head into the mattress. He's a sight, one Andrew will never let anyone else see. Before he was comfortable enough to be this open with Neil, Andrew would never let himself admire, labeling the urge as a waste of time. Now, Andrew runs his hand over the slope of Neil's ass, thumbing the ghosts of scars and faded burns. All he sees is strong legs, and Neil's leaking cock hanging between them.

All for Andrew, only for Andrew.

With shaking fingertips Andrew coats himself in a little too much lube before lining himself up, pressing his forehead against Neil's spine.

This is it, now, next, this moment--

The dark cloud, the one which sits in the back of his head, kept mostly at bay this whole time, creeps forward...

Andrew doesn't sense it, can't think. His mind is a vault locked beneath an ocean, and he never knows how far the tide will come up to trap him further.

"I'm going to push in," he breathes into Neil's skin, as if Neil can't feel the head of his cock rubbing against his entrance, promising. Then, in a moment of remarkable rawness, Andrew doesn’t hold back what he’s thinking. "I'm going to feel all of you."

It should feel like a release, cathartic. Andrew should’ve known to pause right then, because it doesn’t. It sounds an awful lot like he's trying to convince one of them. Neil moans, doesn’t sense it, and spreads his legs further.

Andrew can't see his face but--

His vision sways, and he realizes he didn't get a verbal yes, nevermind that he doesn't always need them anymore.

He leans back, he can see the body in front of him, the headboard. He pushes the tip of his cock inside, and the heat is overwhelming, squeezing him so hard he winces.

So tight, it can't possibly feel good for Neil, it's like he's forcing his way inside and--

He sees hands fly up to scrape at the headboard, and imagines they're held there, unable to move, unable to break away, to get free.

He can't hear Neil's voice, can't see his face, can't tell.

Andrew's entire body goes rigid, and the choked noise which escapes him disgusts him beyond all belief. He moves away like he's been struck, violent and cornered on the other side of the bed.

No. No, no, no.

Neil moves into action surprisingly fast, but doesn't try to follow Andrew. He knows better. As soon as Andrew sees the ring of blue, he feels slightly better, but still far too exposed. Neil yanks the nearest blanket over Andrew, covering him before pulling down his shirt and wrapping the sheet around his waist.

Andrew wonders if that's a good thing for his mind right then. He needs to see. He searches Neil for injuries, bores his gaze into him until he finds evidence of pain or distrust. He needs to look closer, to make sure, but if he touches Neil he'll make it worse.

He’ll make all this worse.

Yet, there’s nothing on Neil but the marks of the past, not all of them bad. Andrew eyes where the faded hickies meet crisscrossing scars. He keeps staring, navigating from afar, and finds nothing of what he's expecting. There's only concern in Neil's gaze, and an adamance which keeps Andrew focused on the present.

Neil’s feet dig into the bed, keeping himself in check even though Andrew knows he’d rather be looking Andrew over too.

"Andrew," Neil says, a little loud, because he knows if Andrew is somewhere other than the present he often needs to be jolted back to reality. "Andrew it's me."

But well, Neil would be wrong.

That's the problem. It's you.

It was Neil, underneath him, it was Neil who filled the role of someone so vulnerable.

Andrew takes a slow gulp of air, and he doesn't try to soften his words. There's no way to, right then.

"I know," Andrew says, unbelievably loud in the space. Cold. And oh, he does not like this at all. The slow realization, the understanding of what happened.

Neil's chest is still heaving, and Andrew's mind begins to clear. Neil looks the farthest from scared, he was feeling good, the haze in his eyes very much there. Craving, waiting for Andrew to give him something he ultimately could not.

And isn't that rich?

Andrew, despite knowing there would most likely be setbacks, who should've seen this coming, doesn't know what to do with this. Disappointment is an old emotion he has not felt in so long, ugly and worse than any good or anxious feeling he's begun to experience more.

It's full body, and makes him want to rip his hair out. They’d been so close.

He's aware he has nothing to feel guilty for, or upset by. Calling this a mess-up is not accurate, and it would be idiotic to do so. And yet, he...

Neil’s breathing stutters when Andrew looks away from him, like he misses it already.

Andrew does too, and he’s got no fight in him left to pick that apart. He just gives in and slides his gaze back to his boyfriend, the word coming easy to him for once.

Neil opens his mouth then closes it, thinking better of it. The coldness in Andrew's eyes is directed inward, wholly at himself. But Neil sees it all, the anger and frustration, and knows it's not time for this discussion. Even when it's clear he's in the dark, doesn't know what caused it, can't get past the wall blocking Andrew's mind, he knows when a boundary needs to be enforced.

They'll talk, soon, but Andrew can't now.

He hates that he can't, that's it's not his fault he can't.

Robbed of control, always.

He fists his hands in the blankets, stretching the fabric, as if he can mimic the feeling anyways. Neil's back hits the headboard softly, letting the quiet settle between them and makes no move to break it. Those bright blue eyes drift between Andrew and the bathroom door, as if debating on leaving, giving Andrew space. There’s not an ounce of disappointment on Neil’s face.

And shit, the itch to leave is rampant. He knows Neil wouldn't mind, but Andrew does. He doesn't want to leave Neil like this, not after something so intense for them both, so new, but he needs to be alone in his own head. That's out of his control too.

But some things have changed, some things he still has the strength to challenge.

He turns towards the wall, where he can focus on the cracks and faded wallpaper instead of Neil's warm body and concern, and lies down rigidly. This isn't tension Neil will be able to rid him of, but it's okay. Andrew doesn't expect him to.

Instead, he puts his back to Neil, a small acquiescence, a show of trust. Andrew never sleeps with his face to the wall.

Andrew hopes Neil takes the gesture as 'stay, be here.'

Andrew will only be able to do this if Neil brackets him off, closed to the world.

There's a long pause of debate while Neil tenses, and Andrew closes his eyes. He’s exhausted suddenly. He wouldn't be offended if Neil left, he tells himself, but his pulse spikes in relief when he feels the mattress shift with Neil's weight as he lies down, leaving space between them.

Traitorous heart.

And through all the slog in his head, Andrew can't help but think the gaze on the back of his neck is the closest thing to comfort.

--

Later that night, Andrew breathes in smoke on the rooftop. He comes here more for tradition now than anything; the fear of falling is still there, but he doesn't need it to jumpstart his emotions like he used to.

There are easier ways to do it now, and he hears a foolproof method open the door behind him. Andrew doesn't flinch when Neil walks up, his head mostly cleared of its earlier fog, leaving behind annoyance and frustration.

He didn't give permission for those to remain either, but here they are. He knows it's mostly resolved, if he can call it that, because the sight of Neil makes his chest feel warm instead of worried.

It’s also unsettling, but not something he's actively trying to be rid of. Warmth, comfort. He’s too tired to lash out. Andrew quirks a brow as Neil stands there, messing with the edge of his sleeves.

Andrew's jacket.

It's then Andrew realizes the one he's wearing must be Neil's, grabbed without a second thought after it was his turn to shower. Routine; Andrew can’t remember the last time he wore his own jacket, except for when Neil asked him to.

So it would smell like him again.

With a sigh, Andrew flicks his cigarette off the side of the building, not watching it fall to its demise. Neil is much more interesting.

The striker takes a hesitant step forward, a silent question, and Andrew can’t stand him.

"Come here," Andrew mimics, a callback to earlier, and the relief on Neil's face is almost annoying. The grin which breaks out on his face is a wave, threatening to drown Andrew as Neil plops down at his side. He leaves a bit of distance, just in case, but Andrew closes it until Neil is flush against him.

It has an instantaneous result; the rest of the tension in both their bodies floods out, and Andrew thinks with some bemusement if Neil were a cat, he'd be purring.

This is familiar, but Andrew has no place for regret in regards to the new things that happened earlier. He thinks it through slowly again, for the tenth time that day, carving around the ugliness. He'd felt good, before it happened. Exhilarating, on fire. Neil, coming apart beneath him. Those are not things he'd ever take back. Neil bites his lip, and Andrew really wishes he'd stop, since it's starting to trigger a Pavlovian response. "We...don't have to talk about it," Neil says, unsure of himself.

Again, he's mistaken.

"Yes we do," Andrew mutters, because it's not what he'd like to do per say, but...

They're sharing, he figures this is kind of part of it. Talking about these things is a little easier, if not akin to pulling teeth. It was like that before too...but now, it's like he's finally being allowed anesthesia.

Neil sighs, like he knew it all along, and nods with a sheepish smile. He keeps shifting too much, torn between wanting to soak up all of Andrew's warmth and see his face at the same time.

"What happened?" Neil asks, never one to beat around the bush once the direction is clear.

Andrew's finger drums on his knee, wishing he hadn't thrown out his cigarette. How to say it...he doesn't have the patience or care to tailor it. "Seeing you like that, for a moment I thought I was hurting you."

That's the basics of it, he thinks. The memories had blurred together, conjuring up the past instead of forcing Andrew back into it. Neil in his place, hands on a headboard, trying to get away...

Neil hums beside him, considering it. Andrew notes how he doesn't refute the reason, doesn't try to remind Andrew that he specifically told the blond to not worry about hurting him. Things are seldom so simple, and the war torn canvas of Andrew's mind can't always be wiped clean with a single statement.

"Because of the position?" Neil asks a beat later, tilting his head, and Andrew suppresses his anger. So much for that position being best, of course it would come back to bite him.

"I couldn't see your face, couldn't tell," Andrew agrees without actually doing so. "I just saw your hands scrape the bed frame."

It had been enough. Nothing more to it.

Neil nods, breathing deep. Like he’s soaking up Andrew’s presence. Once, Andrew snapped at him to stop, like if he did it too much Andrew would wither into nothing. Now, it just offers infuriating stability.

"I would've told you as soon as something was off," Neil states, and it's reassurance, not exasperation or something condescending. In fact, Neil almost looks guilty. "I should've kn--"

Andrew's head whips to face him, tone harsh, so Neil doesn't finish the thought. "No, you couldn't have known. I didn't even know. Stop it."

It's not your fault.

Trial and error, they know the position doesn't work now, at least not at the moment. That's all there is to it, no point in lingering.

Andrew feels it so strongly it threatens to break him in two. If Neil doesn't get that idea out of his head, Andrew might just kill him for real.

Neil's protests die, which is a feat only Andrew has mastered. Making Neil shut up is not straightforward. The striker kicks his legs out in front of him, tapping the edges of his shoes together.

It's not cute.

"Mm," Neil hums, nodding. "We'll just have to try again then, if you want to..."

The smile fades for a moment, and Neil's shoulders tense, fearing he's jumped the gun too soon. Neil has such an idiotic way of putting things, blunt and now without the lies, it makes relief battle with frustration inside Andrew. Of course Neil would worry about this, that Andrew wouldn't want him.

After all that, as if it's even possible for Andrew to not want Neil.

"Don't ask stupid questions," he grits out predictably, overcome with the gravity of this, of how talking to Neil can feel like a warm mug of hot chocolate on a bad night.

Neil's smirk is small, not as powerful as usual, but still there enough to set Andrew on edge. "You want me then?"

Andrew can't do this. If he had the energy to roll his eyes, he would.

He leans back, staring up at the starless sky, a black void. He imagines the lights of Eden's flashing while the heavy bass bounces off the walls. "Every inch of you."

In a random act of therapy application, he brings the past up on purpose, if only to see the way Neil's eyes widen.

There, maybe that'll shut you up.

It's wishful thinking.

"Andrew..." Neil whispers, following him to the dusty floor. Neil's eyes are brighter in the dark, Andrew thinks; it's like they glow.

It pulls the last of his thoughts out of him.

"I don't know how many times I'll get it wrong," Andrew says, surprising even himself. Already, the words feel like vomit, leaving a bad aftertaste. It was a bad way to phrase it, even he knows, but he has to make Neil aware.

This could happen again.

He remembers Neil's excitement, the yearning, the abrupt cutoff of all of it.

Neil is entirely unfazed by the gloom, swatting away the veil over Andrew's mind.

Literally. Neil brings his hand up in front of Andrew’s face, waving.

Andrew really can’t do this.

"And?" Neil asks, blinking stupidly. He looks almost...amused. "Andrew there's no three strikes policy, we can try as many times as we need to."

Do not use sports references when it comes to our sex life.

Andrew shoves him, and the tightness in his chest fades away with the normalcy of it all. Neil doesn't mind, doesn't care. Andrew should've seen that coming too. "Was that a vague baseball reference? From you?"

Neil grimaces, offended. The scars under his eyes scrunch up, and Andrew digs his thumb into one.

"Shut up," Neil grumbles, burying his forehead in Andrew's shoulder.

"I'll tell Kevin you betrayed him."

Neil snorts. "I don't think he'll appreciate the context."

No, he most certainly would not. Like Andrew cares.

He scoffs, but soaks in the feeling of their usual banter, of the weight of the day bleeding out from them both.

And then Neil, in all his devastation, has to hit Andrew one more time.

"There's no getting it wrong," the striker says a moment later, head popping back up so his chin is resting on Andrew. His hair is a goddamn mess. "It always feels good, when we lose control."

Andrew doesn't refute the always for that statement.

His breathing catches, his fingers tangling in the mess of Neil's hair, and kisses him.

He lets his mind flood with the better images, of fingering Neil open, Neil's mouth on him, the moans, the touch...

"Next time," he breathes against Neil's cheek, letting his lips feel the roughness of his scars.

Neil nods, chasing Andrew's lips like he's insatiable. He is. Andrew slows him with a hand to the chest, licking into Neil's mouth teasingly. "Did it feel good?"

He wants to hear it again, he needs to know, to reinforce it.

Neil laughs into the kiss. "It felt incredible, fuck...your hands Andrew," he breathes, letting his own be guided up to Andrew's hair. With the permission clear, he tugs on the loose hairs of Andrew's nape, massaging.

And there's no rush in this, they won't be taking it any further, but they don't need to.

Yes, yes, it all must be one big dream, this life he lives with Neil. But instead of pushing it away before it can end, Andrew has decided to indulge as long as he can.

"Tell me," he says into the skin of Neil's neck, doing what he didn't have the time to before. Marking, savoring.

Neil laughs breathily, and has the audacity to point at the next spot on his neck, tapping it in a silent request for Andrew to plant one on him.

Fine then.

"It's like you're so confident," Neil rambles, unashamed as always. Andrew rolls them over so he's on top of Neil, not for the security, but just because he knows Neil likes to feel cocooned, safe. He gets to work on the spot, swirling his tongue against it. "Like taking me apart is your only goal. I was thinking if that felt so good...how would your cock feel--"

Andrew bites down hard, and Neil yelps.

Well, someone walking by definitely heard that.

Neil is right though; it is Andrew's only goal, ripping sounds out of Neil's throat and bringing him to his knees. He likes when Neil thrashes, wants more, pleads without words.

"I'd slide right in," Andrew states, like one of his facts, a promise. It makes his own head spin. He knows he would, when he can, it'll be..."When I do fuck you, I'm going to make sure it's all you can think about."

That way, they'll be in the same boat.

The smile Neil gives him is mischievous and way too proud. "Already there," he gloats, rubbing at the sore spot on his neck. He looks far too pleased about the growing bruise. "What about you?"

Andrew's about to go for the other side of Neil's neck when the question halts him. He lifts his head back up, gaze questioning.

Neil's eyes get impossibly brighter. "What felt good Andrew?"

And in an instant, Andrew understands. Neil's eyes are lidded, staring up at him expectantly. There can be no dwelling on what went wrong, only what went right.

Neil invites him to write over the past.

Andrew leans down, closes his eyes, and his forehead meets Neil's. He hopes no one ever sees them like this, it's all Andrew's, all of it.

"You took me so easy," Andrew says, and Neil tenses on instinct, as if remembering it too. Oh yes, Andrew intends to explore that, thoroughly. "You were so damn loud."

Neil doesn't point out how he's usually loud, and therefore Andrew is confessing to having a thing for his voice. They can both infer enough to see through it.

So instead, Neil leans up to slot their lips together firmly, the promise of 'next time' searing the deal into place. "Bet you I can be louder."

And Neil, with all his infuriating seduction, is a challenge Andrew can never back down from.

[the--blackdahlia]

The Hunters Chapter 6

Title: The Hunters Chapter 6

Summary: What happens when four idiots get together? Nikki's looking for his dad. Tommy's trying to get out of his mom's shadow. Vince is along for the ride. And Mick is just trying to keep them alive. Which is harder than it sounds when then Winchesters join the fray.

Warnings: Language, violence, m/m smut, canon divergence, character deaths (temporarily), wincest if you squint (may add more tags as I go)

Check out my Patreon for more chapters!

Nikki left the alley not long after Tommy did, his thoughts drifting back to the mysterious other hunter. Bobby had introduced him to some other hunters, but outside of the two or three times he had seen Dean Winchester, most hunters he had met were older, gruffer, and sure as hell weren’t hunting in Atari t-shirts and ponytails.

And fuck, he didn’t even have his name. With a groan, Nikki headed back to the payphone to call Bobby.

“Hey, you’ll never believe what just happened,” Nikki told him when the older man answered.

“What did you do? You’ve only been there like two hours,” Bobby sighed.

“I didn’t do anything, but there was this kid and he took out the vamp I was after,” Nikki explained. “Like, he had some sword and I thought he was dead but he chopped the head off like it was butter. It was so fucking awesome Bobby.”

“Got a name?” Bobby asked.

“He wouldn’t give me one,” Nikki explained. “He was younger than me, but a little taller. He had long hair and, he was so awesome.”

“Well, I only personally know two hunters out there, and neither of them are a young boy,” Bobby explained. “Voula is a woman, and Rufus hasn’t been young in a hundred years.” Bobby chuckled some.

“Well, I only came out here for that one vampire, but I think that I might stick around a little bit,” Nikki told him. “Could be interesting.”

“Do you ever think with your upstairs brain?” Bobby laughed. “Just be careful. Check in with me later.”

****

2 Months Later

Nikki had gotten himself a rat trap apartment just off the strip. It wasn’t glamorous, but he was right in the heart of the action. He could go see bands at night, play in a few if he wanted to, and he could hunt around the Los Angeles area.

But, most importantly, he was on the lookout for the mysterious Atari t-shirt wearing hunter from before. But he never saw him again.

Nikki had been playing in a band with some guys on and off, making sure to take time to do some hunts if Bobby sent them his way. He had just gotten back from band practice to his phone ringing.

“Hello?” Nikki answered.

“Hey Nikki,” Bobby replied. “Look, you know John Winchester?”

“Yeah. Asshole who might know something about my dad,” Nikki grumbled. Bobby chuckled a little. That was the nicest thing he had heard about John in awhile.

“Yeah, well, he’s missing. And his boys were supposed to check in and haven’t. Last I heard, they were around the Sacramento area. I want you to meet up with another hunter by the name of Mick Mars to go look for them.” Bobby explained.

“Mick Mars? What kind of name is that?” Nikki asked.

“Says the guy who changed his name to Nikki Sixx,’ Bobby pointed out.

“Touche,” Nikki shook his head. “Where am I meeting this Mick Mars at?”

“He said to meet him at the Troubadour. He said he’s playing tonight and will meet you after,” Bobby explained. “You two can go over the info he has and go find the boys.”

“Any chance John will be there?” Nikki asked, looking out the window of his apartment.

“At the Troubadour?” Bobby asked with a bit of a laugh. “No, I don’t think he’ll be wherever his boys are. Dean lost track of him in Jericho.”

“And then you lost track of Dean in Sacramento. What is it with California?” Nikki asked.

“Big state. The government won’t release their top secret inventions. Like, I have a cousin who told me that they have a car that runs on water but they won’t release it because…”

“Bobby,” Nikki sighed.

“Right, sorry. Anyway, California is the place to go if you don’t want someone to find you. That’s what I have you for,” Nikki smiled a bit. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay Bobby. Talk soon.” They both hung up and Nikki got ready to go to the Troubadour.

****

Tommy had just come into his room after Voula had him do some research. His eyes were hurting and he wanted a long, long nap. He closed the bedroom door shut when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He turned around to see a shadowy figure in his room. He launched himself at it, prompting a small fight that ended up with Tommy on his back, and his friend Vince pinning him down.

“Easy tiger,” Vince said with a laugh. “You sure you’re some good hunter?” Tommy growled and flipped them over, knocking Vince onto his back. “Or maybe you are.” He laughed as Tommy got up and offered him a hand.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy asked.

“Looking for a beer?” Vince shrugged. “Look man, Rufus sent me to get you since you hadn’t been answering your phone.”

“Rufus?” That’s when his bedroom light turned on. Vince and Tommy looked towards the door, where Voula stood, leaning against the doorframe.

“Well, hey Mrs. Bass,” Vince smiled at her. “Long time no see.”

“Well, if you’d come in through the front door like a normal human being, you might see me more often,” She shook her head. “So, why are you here?”

“I…” He looked to Tommy, who just waved for him to continue.  “Rufus wants me and Tommy to come meet him. He’s got a thing for us.”

“I see,” Voula looked at her son. “What are my rules?”

“If I’m going to go out on a hunt, make sure I tell you where I’m going, make sure I check in, and if I can’t check in, try to leave a  trace of where I may be so if you have to come find me, you can,” Tommy sighed. “Mom, I’m 19. I’ve been hunting without you since like 17. I think I got this.”

“And he won’t be alone on whatever Rufus is sending us on Mrs. Bass,” Vince wrapped an arm around Tommy’s shoulders. “He’s got me.”

“That’s what worries me,” Voula shook her head. “Okay. Just be safe.”

“I will mom,” Tommy kissed her cheek. “Aren’t I always?”

“Not last week when you burnt a wendigo only to turn around and walk straight into a tree branch,” Voula pointed out. Vince started laughing.

“That’s how you got that bruise on your forehead?” Vince wheezed. “That’s hilarious.”

“Shut the fuck up man,” Tommy shook his head. Voula left so Tommy could pack up some things.

“Dude, I ever mention that you’re mom’s hot?” Vince asked.

“Dude! That’s like saying my sister is hot,” Tommy shuddered a little.

“I mean…” Vince smirked, knowing that would piss Tommy off.

“Dude, let’s just go,” Tommy said as he finished packing some clothes and got his weapons bag, making sure his sword was in there.

“Get a gun man,” Vince whispered to him as they headed downstairs, past David who was sitting in his chair, watching TV, and Voula and Athena who were in the kitchen. “Hey Athena.” Vince winked at the younger girl, who blushed and quickly had to find something in the pantry.

“Bye guys,” Tommy called out.

“Okay, hold on, where are you going?” David asked, causing Tommy and Voula to share a look. “And where did Vince come from?”

“He came from a landfill, and we’re going to…” Tommy glanced at Vince.

“An apple orchard up north,” Vince smiled. “They make a killer apple pie.”

“Okay then…” David eyed the two boys. “Call us when you get there.”

“Will do,” Tommy said quickly. “Bye mom, bye dad, bye loser!”

“Asshole!” Athena filled Tommy off from the pantry. Tommy and Vince headed out the door as David could be heard telling Athena to cool it. Tommy headed towards the van he got from his uncle. He had tried to clean it, but it still smelled like shit.

“No way, uh uh,” Vince shook his head.

“What?” Tommy asked.

“We are not taking your creepy van,” Vince told him. “I’ve got my car. We’ll just ride in it.”

“What’s wrong with the van? We can store more stuff in it,” Tommy told him.

“One, it smells like a mix of BO and piss, two, it looks trashy, and three, I’m driving,” Vince smiled and dragged Tommy over to his orange, 1975 Dodge Challenger.

“And how did you get this again?” Tommy asked as they tossed their bags into the trunk and got in.

“I know a guy who knows a guy,” Vince shrugged. “Shotgun just needs to shut his mouth.” Tommy rolled his eyes as Vince fired up the car, AC/DC coming from the speakers as they drove away, and Vince singing along the whole way.

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[the-everlasting-dream]

Sticky Situation - Maxwell x MC ft. Drake

Summary: Maxwell’s attempt at manscaping goes awry. 

A/N: This is not an original idea. It was inspired by this post but after reading it I KNEW I had to se a Maxwell version for reasons. If I’ve done my job right, you’ll all be rolling with laughter soon. Slight Drake x MC Elizabeth here. 

Submission for @choices-september-challenge Day 17 Unexpected  hosted by @i-dream-so-i-write. I think I might be a day early but its the 17th for me lol

Maxwell Beaumont: Xavier Serrano Thea Larkin: Olivia Holt 

Word count: 4100+

Warnings: Description of male genitalia, sexual references

Permanent tags: @choicessa, @pbchoicesobsessed , @meeraaverywalker , @drakewalkerwhipped , @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @xxrainbowprincessxx , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves 

TRR only: @speedyoperarascalparty

‘Are you going to take long little bird?’ Maxwell asked with a huff as he reluctantly guided the car through the streets of Cordonia. 

He was currently driving his fiancee over to their best friend Elizabeth Richmond-Walker’s Atlantean manor for a girls afternoon with their friends Hana Lee and Olivia Nevrakis. He’d voiced his protest earlier at having to part with her for a few hours after expecting to have the whole day together to spend as they pleased. 

 ‘Oh Max its just for one afternoon. Besides,’ Thea Larkin grinned, tossing a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder cheekily. ‘I think you’ll be very pleased with the result after we visit the beauty parlour.’ 

 Maxwell’s eyebrows perked up as he caught her meaning, deliberately urging the car on faster. ‘Full speed ahead then! Beauty parlour here she comes!’ He announced as Thea let out a peal of laughter.

Maxwell was just driving away from the manor when something on the seat glimmered in the sunlight and he glanced over to find that Thea had left her purse in the car and immediately turned the car around. After one of Elizabeth’s staff members pointed him in the direction of her parlous where they were all gathered, he stood at the door, poised to knock before he heard their voices travelling through the door. 

 ‘-believe he waxes Liv!’ Elizabeth was saying. ‘Are you sure?’ 

‘Of course I’m sure!’ Olivia’s voice conveyed a slight hint of irritation. ‘I’ve been married to Liam long enough that he can’t hide that from me…’ 

‘Huh I’m just surprised he would go to all that effort,’ Liz replied thoughtfully. ‘Drake just shaves, says it makes him look bigger.’ 

Maxwells eyes widened as he realised what the women were talking about. In spite of himself he glanced down his own body thinking of his negligence of proper grooming down there. Sure he’d attempted to clean up the downstairs in the past but after one very unfortunate encounter with a razor and a whole week of having to come up with an believable enough excuse for walking funny, he’d been deterred from the whole concept together. So far Thea hadn’t said anything about it when they’d been together so he’d just assumed she didn’t mi- 

‘Does it really feel better like that Liz?’ 

That was Thea speaking now, her tone curious, revealing just how innocent she still was at 22 years of age. Maxwell leaned closer to the door, gripping the handle in anticipation, his ear flat against the wood to avoid missing a word of what she was going to say. 

‘Thea girl...,’ Elizabeth answered, her voice dropping in pitch. ‘It makes all the difference in the world.’ 

 ‘Plus it makes blowjobs that much more pleasant,’ Olivia put in bluntly. ‘You won’t have to be picking hair out of your teeth hours later.'   

A loud gasp escaped Maxwell. He forgot he still had a hand on the door handle in his surprise at Olivia’s bluntness accidentally twisted the handle. With the side of his body pressed heavily against the wood from his eavesdropping attempt, it gave way easily now and he tumbled headfirst into the room where the ladies were sitting. 

 ‘Maxwell?!’ They gasped collectively at his abrupt entrance. Blushing furiously red and inwardly cursing his luck, he picked himself off the ground. ‘Hey girls… uh… Thea forgot her purse so I just dropped by to give it to her.’ 

He sheepishly handed the item to his surprised fiancée. 

 ‘Quite literally too,’ Olivia purred in amusement as she eyed his reddened state. 

Thea eyed him quizzically. ‘Max how long have you-‘ 

 ‘Barely two seconds,’ he called out over his shoulder, perhaps a little too loudly. He steadily avoiding all their gazes, making a beeline towards the exit. ‘I’ll see you girls later, have fun!’

-

"Place tub in microwave, warm in short bursts, stirring after each burst of heat until wax was a smooth, honey like consistency. Apply a liberal amount of wax to area to be epilated, apply linen strip rubbing firmly in direction of hair growth, pull skin taut and remove wax strip.” 

‘Huh.. seems simple enough,’ Maxwell mused out loud, scanning the label on small round pot he’d found. 

 When he’d returned back to the Beaumont manor, instead of spending the afternoon playing video games like he’d planned, the girls’ conversation had made him curious and he’d immediately headed to the cupboard under the bathroom sink of Thea’s bathroom, rummaging around until he found it. A small pot of wax and the accompanying strips. 

Rereading the instructions, he turned it over in his hands. 

 ‘That doesn’t sound too hard. I got this,’ he reassured himself again as he made his way down to the vast kitchen. 'If girls could do it so can I.’   

House Beaumont was entirely empty, the servants had the day off and Bertrand was with Savannah and Bartie at her place so it was the perfect time to try this, he reasoned with himself, imagining how surprised Thea would be when he showed her the finished result. 

 Slipping the pot into the microwave, Maxwell headed to the cupboard in the store room holding their camping supplies, reasoning that this could be a messy process and he’d rather not face his older brother’s fury for spilling wax on their kitchen stools. Dragging out a canvas camping chair, he positioned it in front of the kitchen island as he waited for the microwave to finish, wrapping the flaps of his dressing gown tighter over his naked body underneath. When he heard the DING! of the microwave, he carefully extracted the pot and laid it to cool on the bench top. 

 'So far so good,’ Maxwell muttered to himself, surprised at how smoothly this was all going before he realised his real predicament. 

 How was he supposed to get the wax on his man parts without slopping it everywhere?

He spent a few moments, attempting various positions to see which would be the most effective for the task he was about to undertake, finally settling on a seated position on the canvas chair with his legs raised up on the kitchen island spread in a wide pilates V. It took a moment to juggle with the positioning of his cock and balls but so far this was the best option he could think of. 

Mortified at the thought of anyone — least of all Bertrand — walking in to see him in such compromising position, Maxwell reached for the stick in the pot, hoping he could get the task quickly without any major spills. He gingerly moved to apply it quickly to his skin almost immediately he cursed out loud. 

‘Shit!’ 

 He hadn’t left it to cool long enough and the wax was much too hot when it made contact with the tender skin of his balls, drawing reflexive tears of pain. When the intensity died down to a dull warmth, he hastily applied the linen strip over the area, rubbing it soothingly to ease the pain. No, he reminded himself. The most painful part was still to come. 

‘Come on Maxwell,’ he muttered trying to psych himself up. ‘You can do this.’ 

Clenching his eyes shut, he took a deep breath and flexed his abs in preparation for the shock that was to come. With his fingers under the edge of the stip, he counted to three and ripped the strip off as quickly as he could. 

‘Mother fucker!’

His shout of pain echoed through the halls of the Beaumont manor and if anyone were home they’d have some running by now. His vision flashed white as pain emanated from between his legs and he fought to keep his breathing under control. Eventually Maxwell opened his eyes, bringing the strip up to inspect his handiwork expecting to see it filled with unwanted hair but was surprised to find… nothing! 

‘What the hell?’ Maxwell exclaimed, staring at the little piece of cloth, void of both hair AND wax.

’Something’s not right,’ he began, reaching for the pot to reread the instructions labelled there. He’d followed the steps perfectly. 

Warm. Apply. Rub. Pull. It wasn’t rocket science! 

He glanced down at himself to find the cooled wax perfectly attached to the pubic hair on his balls. 

‘Maybe I didn’t put enough wax on,’ Maxwell reasoned with himself and reached for the stick again — another huge mistake. 

In his hurry he’d taken too big of a scoop of wax out of the pot and it had dripped all over his flaccid cock making him hiss as the still-too-hot wax hit his most sensitive area. He’d put so much on that it began to drip down over his balls down to his taint in between his butt cheeks. 

 Unfortunately his attention was focused elsewhere for now as his fingers scrabbled across the bench top to reach for another strip of linen. When he finally placed it where he deemed appropriate, he patted it down with more force than earlier, attempting to distract himself from the strain of his muscles from keeping him in that position for so long. Gasping for breath, Maxwell braced himself for the impact as his held his skin tight and yanked the strip with all his might. 

 ‘FUCK!’ 

His howl of pain was louder this time and a whole octave higher as the pain seemed to be ten times worse this time around. He was gasping for air, covered in a light sheen of sweat from the exertion and lifted his hand up to inspect his handiwork. 

Surely that had to work this time…

He hadn’t put himself through that a second time to turn up - 

‘EMPTY?’ Maxwell screeched, staring at the pristine wax strip staring back at him, almost mockingly. Defeated and angry, he dropped his legs from the bench top, hissing as his tired muscles spasmed when he closed his legs. His back was killing him too as and he tried to shift in the chair, his eyes widened in horror as he found himself unable to move! 

‘I’ve glued myself to the chair,’ he stated blankly, trying not to lose his cool but failing miserably. ‘I’ve glued myself to the chair!’ 

 And if things couldn’t get any worse, Maxwell shifted again only to find that he’d waxed himself… to himself! 

A frantic panic welled up in him as he tried to pry his legs apart but they refused to move, sealed together perfectly by the wax. He let out a whimper of defeat. 

How am I going to get free? What if I need to pee? Another more drastic thought struck him. What if I’m stuck like this forever? 

 His eyes widened at the thought of being confined to the chair for the rest of his life. I’ll never be able to dance again, he realised with horror before correcting himself. He’d never be able to be with Thea again. Now that shocked him into silence and he stayed frozen like that for a few moments. 

He needed to do something… He couldn’t remain like this forever. He refused to. Channelling his inner Bertrand, he psyched himself up again. He was Maxwell Percival of House Beaumont. Surely he wouldn’t let a little bit of hot wax get the better of him.   

Steeling his nerves, Maxwell gingerly attempted to inch one butt cheek off the chair which caused a slight sucking noise to echo out through the kitchen and if it was possible he felt himself blush even more at his own predicament. While his sense of urgency told him to hurry, his pain threshold screamed at him to take his time, lest he got himself into an even more compromising position. His muscles strained with every inch he shifted but eventually he was able to peel himself off the chair. 

Next problem, his legs were still glued together. 

Maxwell’s mind raced trying to find a solution that did not involve stripping himself of his ability to have children and finally settled on the first somewhat sensible option that came to him. 

Grabbing his robe and phone, he began to take painfully tiny steps towards the bathroom. No matter how big or small his movements were, each step was a new fresh hell as the wax pulled at his hair and genitals. Instead of walking, he resigned himself to an awkward sliding motion as he shuffled towards the stairs, realising all the bathrooms big enough to accommodate his needs were stationed one level above. Sweat dripped off his body as he painfully inched himself up the first step, gasping heavily when he’d cleared it. 

Only fifteen more to go….

-

In the bathroom, Maxwell turned on the faucet as warm as he thought he could handle and when the tub was sufficiently filled, he eased himself into the water, sighing in relief rather than pleasure that he would finally be able to be free of this accursed wax. The bottle of rose scented bubble bath caught his eye and he reached for it, hoping for something to make his unfortunate experience a little better. Shortly after dumping in a generous dollop, the bubbles began to form and he leaned his head back against the bathroom wall, giving himself a few moments to relax before he tackled his downstairs issue. 

It had barely been over a minute when he felt something tickling his nose and opened his eyes to find his entire visual field filled with foam as the bubbles had multiplied incessantly filling the entire bathtub. He shut the water off and swiped a few bubbles out of his way. 

Surely the wax would have melted by now… 

Maxwell attempted to a slight wiggle to adjust himself 

Nothing happened…. 

He wiggled again… 

Still nothing..

For some reason his body was refusing to cooperate! Frantically he swiped more of the bubbles away to find that instead of melting the wax off his skin the warm water had the complete opposite effect and in his attempt to free himself, he’d essentially created a vacuum seal between his balls, legs and the bathtub! 

Maxwell was shocked to his very core, unable to decide whether to laugh or cry about his predicament. Instead he reached for his phone, dealing the first person he could think of… Bertrand. 

 His older brother had gotten him out of scraped a hundred times over. Surely he’d know what to do right? Maxwell drummed his fingers against the side of the tub while the phone rang over and over before finally going to voice mail. 

 ‘Bertrand’s always got his phone on him,’ he exclaimed. ‘What could possibly be happening now?’ 

Sighing in frustration he dialled Liam’s number. Surely the King of Cordonia would have a solution for him? Unfortunately that call too went to voice mail and Maxwell sighed again. Liam was probably off doing kingly things and didn’t have time to answer.  

His finger hovered over Thea’s contact, millimetres away from pressing the green button before he clicked out of the contact. She was busy with the rest of the girls at the salon… Besides he sure as shit wasn’t about to tell his fiancee about his stupid endeavour, knowing she’d tease him endlessly about it. He’d be taking this to the grave, which left only one other person to call.

‘Drake? Drake my buddy, my best friend how are you?’ he began nervously, relieved that someone picked up. 

 Drake’s flat tone told him immediately that he was neither impressed not entertained this. ‘I’m fine.' 

 ‘Greaaaat’ he replied and immediately realising he’d drawn out the syllable a bit longer than necessary. ’Say whatcha doing right now?’ 

‘I just got Darcy down for her afternoon nap,’ his friend replied shortly before his voice got suspicious. ‘What do you want Beaumont?' 

Maxwell felt his face heat up at the prospect of having to explain his situation to his ever cynical best friend. Of all the scrapes he’d gotten himself into this one was definitely up there with the worst of them. ‘I… uh… might have gotten myself into a bit of a… ah, sticky situation.’ 

‘Get to the point Maxwell,’ Drake replied, his tone definitely irritated now. ‘What have you done now?’ 

Maxwell shifted uncomfortably then immediately regretted it as the strands of waxed hair pulled painfully against his balls. ‘I think its better if I show you,’ he squeaked in pain. 

 ‘Beaumont if this is another one of your fucking pranks, I swear to god I’ll-‘ 

‘Drake just get over here!’ he burst out desperately, unable to take it anymore. ‘I need help!' 

‘Alright, alright, just sit tight I’ll be there soon,’ he grumbled before clicking the call off. 

 Maxwell settled his phone on the bathtub’s edge and waited, praying his best friend would arrive quickly and have some sort of idea on how to get him out of his predicament. Twenty minutes passed and the temperature of the water in the bathtub dropped by more than 10 degrees but he was still no closer to becoming unstuck. 

 ‘Come on, come on,’ Maxwell muttered under his breath, hoping to the highest heavens that Drake hadn’t forgotten and would arrive soon. Ever since Darcy had been born, his best friend had taken his fatherhood role very seriously which meant he’d seen less and less of him in the last few months. At long last his phone buzzed and he lunged for it, sure enough finding a text from Drake.

I just got here. Where are you?  in the master bathroom. hurry, idk how long i can be like this 

After what felt like hours but was probably about a minute, Drake appeared in the door way carrying some sort of large basket in his hand. 

'Drake buddy!’ Maxwell burst out in relief. 'Man am I glad to see you.' 

 'Maxwell, please tell me you did not disrupt my daughters nap just to show me you were having a bubble bath,’ Drake growled, setting the basket down and Maxwell caught a sight of baby Darcy inside, still sleeping soundly. 

'No Drake its not like that!’ he protested before gesturing down to himself. 'I’m stuck!’ 

His friend’s face crumpled in confusion and irritation. 'What the fu- What do you mean you’re stuck?’ 

'I’m stuck Drake!’ he wailed despondently, almost on the verge of tears. 

‘Alright alright! Keep your damn voice down,’ Drake grumbled, jerking his head at the sleeping baby. ‘Why don’t you tell me what happened from the beginning?’

'I wanted to surprise Thea so I tried to self-wax my… um… you know —  I mean if Liam can do it, it shouldn’t be that hard right?’ Maxwell began rapidly, keeping his gaze firmly away from his friend's as he continued. ‘And I followed the instructions but then the wax didn’t come off,  and oh my god it fucking hurt, so I tried it again but it still didn’t work, and when I put my legs down… everything sealed together and now I’m stuck to the bathtub!'

He glanced up to see Drake’s eyebrows raised almost to his hair line in astonishment and the two men just stared at each other for a long moment before Drake burst out into uncontrollable laughter, his broad shoulders shaking. 

‘Fine, fine,’ Maxwell grumbled. ‘I guess I deserve that… Laugh all you want.’ 

‘Wow Beaumont,’ his friend replied sarcastically, not even bothering to hide his amusement. ‘You’ve really done it this time,’ he replied, wiping a few tears away. 

 ‘Ok yea I admit it was a dumb idea but will you help me now?!’ He demanded. 

‘Hang on I’m not done yet,’ Drake shot back and laughed for a few more seconds to Maxwell’s chagrin. 

 ‘Okay now can we focus on the real problem here?!’ He almost yelled, completely disregarding the sleeping child a few feet away. 

‘Shit Maxwell I have no idea how to help you. Right now Google is our best bet I guess. But before we try anything, you should drain the bathtub,’ Drake advised in what Maxwell could only describe as his “dad voice". ’Nothing’s gonna work if with all those bubbles in the way... I’m also gonna assume you’re naked under all that..?’ He gestured vaguely to the soap suds. 

Maxwell nodded and silently obeyed, pulling the plug and letting the water drain out, rinsing himself of the soap suds as Drake thumbed through his phone, looking for a solution. 

‘Here it is,’ he finally spoke up. ‘Do you have any olive oil?’ 

‘If we do it would be in the kitchen,’ Maxwell answered, confused but not about to argue with his best friend who immediately disappeared and was back in a few seconds with it. 

 ‘Cotton pads?’ 

‘In the drawer,’ Maxwell pointed to indicate which one it was. Handing both the items to him, Drake slowly walked him through the process of unsticking himself from the bathtub floor with surprising patience and soon enough Maxwell found himself effectively detached from the porcelain. 

 ‘Drake buddy come here,’ he exclaimed, lunging up from the bathtub entirely relieved to be free. ‘You’re the best friend a guy could ask for!’ 

He attempted to pull Drake into a hug but his friend deftly sidestepped him, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘You know how I feel about hugs Beaumont. And you’re still naked by the way.’

Maxwell glanced down to find that he was indeed still naked and grabbed a towel from the nearby rack. 

‘Oh thanks for the reminder, pal,’ he replied shakily. 

Drake shook his head vehemently, shuddering. ‘Ugh don’t think I’ll be unseeing that anytime soon… Come on get dressed,’ he instructed, throwing Maxwell’s robe at him. 

‘Where are we going?’ he asked curiously as he slipped the robe over his shoulders, watching Drake pick up his still sleeping daughter and head out of the bathroom. 

‘Just do it,’ he ordered authoritatively over his shoulder and Maxwell had no choice but to follow after him. Drake loaded all three of them into his Jeep and turned glared at him. 

‘If you get wax on my new car, I will personally seal you to the roof of House Beaumont, got it?’ 

 ‘Got it,’ Maxwell gulped, knowing his friend was entirely capable of following through on his threat and the entire car ride was silent until Drake finally pulled up to a strip mall. 

 ‘What are we doing here?’ Maxwell questioned as he got down from the vehicle. 

 ‘Doing what you should have done in the first place,’ his friend replied as he carefully extracted his daughter from her carseat and heading towards the entrance of a beauty parlour. ‘Getting it professionally done. Are you gonna stand there on the sidewalk all day Beaumont?’ 

Shaking his head, Maxwell scurried after his best friend away from the strange looks he was receiving from passerby on the street. He’d barely taken two steps into the salon when a woman’s voice called out his name. 

‘Maxwell?’

His eyes almost fell out of his head when he saw Thea, Elizabeth, Olivia and Hana seated on the large massage chairs getting their nails done. 

‘Uh… hey ladies…' 

‘What are you doing here?’ His fiancee questioned, looking at him curiously. 

Maxwell felt his face heat up alarmingly. ‘Umm… I mean y’know… I was so lonely at home I decided to come join you…' 

‘Don’t be fooled,’ Drake cut in. ‘You’ll never believe what he did to himself this time.’ 

‘Thats it!’ Maxwell exclaimed out loud, heading for one of the waxing rooms at the back of the store, hoping to escape the ribbing his friends would inevitably give him. ‘I’m already late for my appointment!’ 

 As he settled himself down on the waxing bed, he could hear his friends laughing as Drake related the entire story to them. 

That’s the last time I attempt to do anything like this myself...

[winterflash-2019]

Playing Cupid

You were Starling City’s only Meta-human called The Shadow. It all happened when you were in Central City with your boyfriend at the time, Roy. The both of you were supposed to go with Barry and Iris to see the particle accelerator but Barry had to stay at work extra late that night and it just so happened for the Particle accelerator to explode unexpectedly causing you to be the first one to get hit and waking up 5 months later with Darkness manipulation hence why everyone calls you shadow.

Fast forward 4 years later you’re now part of team arrow after helping Oliver save Thea one night. Now here you are training while Felicity and Oliver were debating on who’s a better hero, him or Barry.  Barry, the speedster you’ve had a crush on even before you got with Roy which was the only reason you moved to Starling City…well that and the fact that you believed Barry had feelings for Iris.

You and Barry made a promise that you would keep in contact with each other and you did just that. Calling each other every day, visiting each other every now and then, even falling asleep on the phone together. Roy knew deep down that you had feelings for Barry and he couldn’t be mad at you for it if anything it’s the reason the both of you have such a good friendship now.

“Oliver, the boy has got speed” Felicity sighs with Oliver on the other hand rolls his eyes

“And I have arrows” He poorly states and Diggle holds back a laugh while you on the other hand giggle as you let go of the pull up bar in the middle of the room.

“Seriously Ollie” You say with raised eyebrows and he scoffs

“What” He tilts his head sassily and you shake your head with a smile before walking over and stealing Roy’s water bottle.

“Hey!” Roy whines and you just wave him off, taking a sip and sit on his lap.

A whoosh was heard and papers fly everywhere as the wind blows your hair in Roy’s face.

“Barry, you cannot keep doing that one day I’m going to shoot you with an arrow” Oliver says while lowering his bow and sitting it on the desk next to Felicity.

“um I think you’ve done that before” Barry chuckles as his eyes land on you sitting in Roy’s lap and his chest tingles with jealously.

“Barry, hi” You greet as you hop off Roy’s lap and hug him and his grip tightens around you as he breathed in your strawberry scent.

“Hey y/n” He softly replies and Felicity clears her throat once she notices you two were hugging too long.

“Sorry guys” You sheepishly apologize and Barry blushes as he looks down at you, admiration in his eyes.

“Barry, wanna tells us why you’re here” Oliver says and Barry turns to face him with realization.

“Oh yeah um we need your help”

“With what” you ask with folded arms and Roy comes up behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder when Barry saw this he quickly clenches his fist.

“There’s a new Meta and he wants to take over Central City”

“My team and I tried everything but no matter what we do he always comes back from it”

“and how are we supposed to help” Roy questions and Barry’s eyes flick to his hand on you again and he could feel his face tur red with anger.

“I was thinking about doing a stake out, Me and y/n go after him and Oliver and Diggle will be there in case anything goes wrong” He growls

“What about me”

“You have to stay here with Felicity” Barry didn’t want Roy anywhere near you, you were his…well not really but he can dream.

“Sounds like a plan” Oliver pats Barry on the back and walks out with Felicity to get prepared for the mission.

“So how you been” You ask and Barry felt his heart rate speed up when he sees you smile.

“I’ve been fine just the usual, fighting metas…win some lose some” He shrugs and you giggle

“But still no Iris?” You say quietly and he looks at you weirdly

“Iris is great and all but I’ve realized that I been hooked on her for too long…I like someone else” He says while searching your face for a reaction and you bit you lip as you bounced on your tippy toes.

“Oh” You were hurt you thought that you had a chance with Barry now that he stopped going after Iris but it seemed as you were too late.

Barry panics as the tension in the room became too much for him. “uh see you tomorrow y/n”

“Bye barr” and just like that he was gone.

_

You, Oliver, and Diggle walk into Star Labs to see Cisco sipping on a slushy and Barry slouching in his chair…where was everyone else?

“Oh, hey guys you’re early” Barry perks up when he sees you already dressed up in your all black suit with the zipper zipped down just a little for you to have cleavage.

“Well Barry you didn’t exactly give us a time” You sarcastically say with a smirk before sitting down on the edge of the desk Cisco was sitting at.

“So, give us all the details on this meta” Oliver can see you staring at Barry out the corner of his eye. He doesn’t know why you just tell him you like him…what’s Barry going to do reject you that boy won’t even dream of it.

“Well- “Barry was cut off when the Meta human alarm went off

“That’s our cue” soon all three of you leave the lab as Caitlin and the rest of team arrow walk in

“Whoa whoa whoa what is this…a party?” Cisco shouts before sipping his slushy again.

“We got bored back in Starling so we decided to come here” Felicity stated as she walked in the cortex

“Have you guys noticed Barry and Y/n give each other the heart eyes” Caitlin excitedly says and Felicity smiles now that she knows she wasn’t the only one to notice.

“Um guys they’ve always been that way we all noticed a long time ago” Harry states when he walks in the cortex

“I think this is the perfect time to play cupid” Felicity says and everyone agrees

“yes finally, I get so sick and tired of Barry moping around 24/7” Cisco cheers and Harry smirks at him

“I am so going to tell him you said that” He taunts and Cisco sits up straight

“You wouldn’t dare”

“Try me Ramon” Harry challenges before walking into Cisco’s office with Cisco right behind him.

“This is the perfect opportunity, they’re gone so we have to plan something and quick” Roy says and they all smile.

_

You were exhausted when you walked back into the lab with Barry straying behind you, Oliver decided to take a break and stop at Jitters because he had to sit down his legs were killing him.

You and Barry stop at the entrance of the Cortex when you notice everyone gone.

“Where the hell did they go” Barry furrows his eyebrows in confusion and you tiredly sigh

“I really don’t want to play the games guys can you please just come out of hiding” You shout but the entire lab was quiet…too quiet for your liking.

You look behind the desk and you see rose petals leading to the med bay and Barry sees you following them so he does the same.

When you two finally reached the end of the petal trail the door slammed shut and Barry jiggled on the door knob but it was locked. You look out the glass window to see Team Arrow and Team Flash looking back at you.

“Guys unlock this door right now” You sharply state but you see Felicity shake her head no, squinting you see Oliver behind her smirking back at you.

“Ollie, you knew about this” You gasp and he nods

“of course, I didn’t make up going to Jitters for nothing”

“the both of you are not leaving that room until you confess your undying love for each other” Roy says through the glass and your eyes widened.

“W-What I don’t” you stumble to get your words together as you turn to face Barry who was blushing like crazy.

“Barry doesn’t have feeling for me” You deny but you hear him mumble from behind you.

“Barry” you whisper and he looks up in your eyes while walking closer to you.

“I do have feelings for you y/n, always have…I couldn’t stand seeing you with Roy even after you broke up him being around you makes me jealous because I’ve wanted you for so long” He puts a stray hair behind your ear as your eyes watered. You’re finally getting what you wanted and what you wanted was Barry.

“Barry I-“

“it’s okay if you don’t feel the same y/n I understand” he closes his eye out of embarrassment and you let a tear fall as you put a hand on his cheek, causing him to look up at you.

“I love you Barry Allen” you say before pressing your lips against his.

“GET A ROOM” Cisco yells from the other side of the glass and Barry pulls away from you with a chuckle

“we do” You say with a smirk and everyone turns their nose up in disgust.

“Alright open the door before it turns into a full blown porno“ Harry says and everyone looks at him strangely

“what” he asks before walking off.

_

 “Well I guess this is goodbye” Felicity says after everyone was done hugging each other and Barry felt hid heart plummet to the floor, he wanted you to stay but Starling City needs you and he knew that. As Team Arrow was walking out the cortex you come to a stop.

“Wait” you say and they stop and look at you

“what is it y/n?” Oliver asks and you look back at Barry who was looking at you with hopeful eyes

“How would you feel if I stayed here…with Barry”

“I would miss you but I would be fine with it at the same time” He states

“Well in that case…I’m staying” you walk towards Barry and grab his hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Are you sure y/n” Felicity asks with sadness in her voice

“Yeah, I’m sure” you say while smiling and Team Arrow hugs you

“If you hurt her Barry we are all coming after you” Oliver growls as he harshly pats Barry’s back

“Ollie leave him alone”

“Stay safe kiddo” Roy hugs you again before walking out the cortex.

“I guess you guys playing cupid actually worked this time” Barry says with a smile at team flash

“I finally got the girl”

  I really liked this request because it’s really different from what I’ve been writing and if you guys liked this then that means I can make more of these type of imagines. 

- Winterflash-2019

tag list:

@andy-blur @onceuponateenpanwolfian

[ranger-of-estel]

Captain Canary + 46

“Shut up, I am adelight!”Captain Canary (Post Len’s return)Featuring Team Arrow

               “Sara,”Oliver growls, tugging the small blonde aside. “What is he doing here?”

               Sheglances over her friend’s shoulder to where Leonard is browsing the cases thathold the garb of each of Star City’s heroes. “Because he’s part of my team?”she replies, eyes returning to Oliver.

               “He’s acriminal.” Oliver glares over at theolder man, “A thief and-“

               “farmore delightful company than you, it would seem.” He drawls, turning to facethe pair. “What?” his eyebrow raises, motioning to the space around them, “I’veheard much quieter people in much larger spaces.”

               “As Iwas saying,” Sara drew the men from their staring match. “Leonard is my –”

               “Partner,”he finishes, stepping to her elbow. He pins Oliver with an unspoken challenge. “Doyou have a problem with that Hawkeye?”

               Sarasnickers, before schooling her features and tilting her head to the man acrossfrom her. “So Ollie, do you want our help or not?”

               Hegroans, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he points to her chest, “Butthis conversation isn’t over, and you.” He turns his attention to Leonard. “Youstep out of line, and I will take pleasure in shooting you.”

               “You’dhave to prove I took something first,” Len smirks and Oliver storms back towhere Felicity is waiting at the computer.

               Sararolls her eyes, turning to look at Len curiously. “Partner?”

               Heshrugs, “I’d rather not break the news to your, obviously disapproving, exuntil after we’ve dealt with the threat. That way I can focus all of myattention on not being shot by one of the ‘good guys’”

               Shesighs, “He’ll adjust. But,” she attempts to give a scolding look, “it might beeasier if you weren’t making a point of riling him up.”

               He justsmirks, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And ignore the entire reason I taggedalong? Not a chance Birdie,” he leaned down to press a swift kiss to her lipsthen sauntering over to the main platform. “Felicity right?” he checks his hipagainst her desk, “How did someone with your talent end up chained to Batmanthere?”

               Saraheard Felicity’s squeak of surprise, “Well I’m not- I mean I wouldn’t saychained…”

              Sara can’t help but chuckle, poorgirl wouldn’t stand a chance against his charm. She gave a gentle bump to herboyfriend’s shoulder on her way to where Oliver was glaring daggers next toDiggle and Thea. “So what’s the plan?”

              As the day goes on Sara gets in on flirting with Felicity, When it’s finally over and they admit they are together Oliver glares between them, “Then will you both stop flirting with my fiancé!”

              “But she’s so cute when she’s flustered,” Sara winks at the other woman. Oliver just makes an exasperated noise and walks off.

[jksluvcult]

.

[adiwriting]

Drabbles: Treadmills and Negotiations

Prompt Fill: Why are you limping?

Oliver glances up from where he’s currently working out on the salmon ladder to see if it’s Felicity or Thea stepping off the elevator. When he sees it’s Felicity, he jumps down and grabs his T-shirt to put on, wanting to get right to work on tracking down the new player in town before he has to get to City Hall.

“Why are you limping?” he asks her as he steps up to her computer platform, wondering why she’s struggling to make it up the stairs. His thoughts immediately go to her implant, wondering if there’s something wrong.

“It’s nothing,” she says, but there’s a slight blush in her cheeks that tells him that it is most definately something and she doesn’t want him to know. Which only makes him want to know more.

“What did you do?” he asks her, causing her to huff in annoyance.

“I got a hit off of the prints I lifted from the knife you gave me,” she tells him, changing the topic, which makes him amused, because it must have been something really embarrassing if she won’t tell him.

“Gunner Valdez. Which sounds like his parents were breeding him for gang life. Who names their kid Gunner? That was the name of my neighbor’s dog growing up. I hated that thing. It always chased me down the block when I was on my way to school. Ugh. It was awful—”

Oliver reaches out to place his hand on her shoulder to help her refocus.

“Right,” she says. “Anyway. I can’t find a last known address, but I do have his mugshot from SCPD. I’m running facial recognition now. I’ll let you know when I get a hit.”

“Great,” he says, but makes no move to leave like he usually would to go back to working out.

“Was there something else you needed?” she asked.

He nods. “Why are you limping?” he asks with an amused smile.

She mumbles something about vigilantees needing to mind their own business, but he waits her out, knowing she’ll crack soon.

“I fell off the treadmill,” she tells him.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asks, knowing he had to have heard her wrong. For starters, he wasn’t even sure that Felicity knew what a treadmill was.

“I fell off the treadmill,” she grumbles.

He can’t help but laugh at that, which earns him a smack to the arm.

“What were you even doing on a treadmill?” he asks. “You hate running.”

He had tried for months to get her to go running with him, but she never would. She claimed she was allergic to cardio.

“Paul cleared me for it,” she says.

“Okay… That still doesn’t explain why you were on a treadmill.”

“Paul told me last week that I was clear to start exercising again… and I laughed,” she tells him. “Apparently he didn’t find it so funny and gave me a long lecture on how I needed to be more concerned about my body now. Something about needing more core strength for a healthy spine. I wasn’t really listening. Next thing I know, he’s signed me up for the gym.”

Oliver watches her amused, because he can only imagine how that conversation had gone over. He had tried to talk her into exercising more regularly, informing her that 5 situps each morning doesn’t count as exercise, but it had gotten him little results.

“So he signed you up for the gym,” he says. “And what made you actually go?”

“He shows up at my apartment every morning at 5,” she groans. “We’re workout buddies,” she says with fake enthusiasm.

“You never wanted to be my workout buddy,” he tells her. “When I asked, you told me to shut up.”

“Well I could get you to stop asking by distracting you with sex,” she says. “I can’t distract Paul with sex. He has zero interest in me even if he weren’t happily married. I tried to distract him with doughnuts, but he’s gluten free and I refuse to buy gluten free doughnuts on principle alone. I tried to get Curtis to distract him with sex, but apparently that wasn’t an appropriate thing to ask your friend. So I had no choice. I had to go to the gym with him.”

“Where you fell off the treadmill.” Oliver nods at this, crossing his arms while he tries his best not to laugh at her.

“It was mortifying,” she says. “My phone went flying. My water spilled. I yelped so loud that everyone turned to watch and laugh. And I twisted my ankle.”

“Maybe you really are allergic to cardio,” he teases her.

“I told Paul I wasn’t going back,” she says.

“If it’s a strong core you need, you know you can always work out here,” he says, deciding not to tease her any longer. He will, however, text Paul later to see if there is video of this anywhere.

“You don’t want me to work out here,” she says.

“What makes you say that?” he asks, surprised.

“You hate when I try to work out here,” she says. “You glare at me or look at me like I have a third head.”

“I do not,” he argues.

“Really?” she says, giving him a challenging look. “The last time I tried hitting one of those dummies, you asked me what I thought I was doing and told me you needed me to get back to work.”

He pauses, because she’s right. He doesn’t like it when she trains. The idea of her ever going out in the field terrifies him, especially now that it’s just the two of them around. He doesn’t want her training and getting any crazy ideas that she can suit up. He wouldn't be able to handle it if anything happened to her. He’s already lost the rest of the team, he can’t lose her too.

However, he knows better than to admit to her that he doesn’t like the idea of her training. He has a meeting to get to in a half an hour and her feminist rant would take at least 45 minutes.

“You know I’m right,” she says, giving him a smug look.

“You could work out here,” he tells her, because she could. There is plenty of non-training equipment here to use.

“Train me,” she tells him.

“No,” he says quickly.

“It’s just the two of us right now Oliver, it just makes sense to train me,” she says.

“It makes zero sense,” he says. “You’re not going out there. I need you here.”

“I’m not asking to go out there. I just want to know more self-defense. If I were to ever be in danger, I should be able to take care of myself better, seeing as there’s only you to rescue me now.”

“If you were in trouble, I’d come get you,” he says.

“You would certainly try.”

“I would,” he says.

She continues to stare at him, waiting for his answer to her request to train him and eventually he lets out a deep sigh of regret, because he knows she’s right.

He really should train her, simply for security reasons. He knows that Digg has taught her the basics, but she could stand to learn some more advanced moves. Besides, if Paul thinks that she needs a stronger core to protect her spine, and this is the only kind of exercise she’ll participate in, he will take what he can get. After all, he wants her to be healthy.

“Fine,” he agrees, causing her to raise her fist in the air in triumph.

“But you are learning defense moves only.”

“Okay,�� she says with a satisfied smile.

“And you aren’t getting a suit.”

“I don’t even want one,” she says.

“You won’t be going into the field with me,” he tells her sternly.

“Got it.”

Seeing as she’s so agreeable, he decides to slip in one more demand, just to see if he can get her to agree.

“And you’re going to start running with me in the morning,” he says.

“No,” she says. “Not happening. Allergic to cardio, remember?”

“Felicity, a girl that falls off a treadmill doesn’t sound like somebody that could outrun a kidnapper,” he says.

It’s a valid point, even if his reasons for trying to get her to run with him in the mornings are much more selfish. He just wants to spend more time with her, and a morning run is the perfect opportunity for them to see each other outside of the bunker. After all, if he wants them to get back together, he needs her to remember that he can be more than just the vigilante. It wouldn’t take much to convince her to turn morning runs into morning coffees, and maybe he could even finagle morning breakfasts as well. He’s not above trying to persuade her with his cooking.

“I can’t run on a twisted ankle,” she says with a smirk.

“A twisted ankle will heal,” he says. “I can wait.”

“Are you telling me that you won’t train me if I don’t run with you in the morning?” she asks, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

“Well you could always try distracting me with sex,” he teases, unsure how she’s going to take it, but thankfully she rolls her eyes at him playfully and isn’t upset by the comment.

“How about we compromise with a morning walk,” she says.

“It’s a deal,” he says, managing to avoid pressing his luck by calling it a date.

Morning walks with Felicity. It sounds like heaven to him.

---

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