#uhm. i really like judas!! hes funny

[summerof336bc]

GOT TO SEE THE CHOSEN IN THE THEATER. IM OFFICIALLY INSANE

[id: a post banner that reads "i'm not christian (just mentally ill)". the background is Leonardo Di Vinci's "The Last Supper". end id]

[the-horsemen-ride]

any general thoughts/opinions on the kids trapped down there? (sorry if this has been asked before)

((Probably redundant Mun’s note: this is about my own headcanons for the kids and not anyone else’s. This blog runs on weird interdimensional tomfoolery or whatever so these guys can all coexist with everything else going on. Also this took a while bc I had to brainstorm a bit, hope it’s worth the wait!!!)

Isaac

Famine: Isaac’s pretty nice. He can get pretty sad and scared, I kinda feel bad for him. He also knows a LOT of things he shouldn’t know. He’s kinda funny, too, but he doesn’t realize.

Death: Honestly, it is a little sad, but hey, a job’s a job. And his trials are his own to go through, this is a prison of his own design and he has to fight for his freedom, even if these circumstances are unfair. He’s alright to be around, he has quite a vivid imagination.

War: “Kinda” funny? Kid’s a fuckin’ comedian. He doesn’t really mean to be half the time, but damn. Uh, he can be annoyin’ but whatever. That an’ we need to take ‘im down, so... it’s nothin’ personal, jus’ business, an’ there’s no harm in havin’ fun with what you do.

Pestilence: He’s a little skittish, and uh, emotional. Not a lotta con- uhm, confidence. Isaac is... I uh - I think he’s sick of us, honestly.

Conquest: Isaac has lost his way. He has to turn away from all the sinful influences in his life if he wants to get out of here in one piece.

Maggie

Famine: She’s the friendliest of the bunch. It’s almost a little concerning. Like, we’re literally trying to kill these kids and vice versa but she’s always just been super nice to us. I don’t think she’s even scared of us. Except for Conquest, for good reason.

Conquest: She’s annoying, but she’s young and instead of just roping her in her Mom is trying to kill her. It’s a damn shame... and what the hell are you trying to imply?

Famine: Dude, you’re scary. 

War: And I’m not?

Famine: Well, not to me, you aren’t.

Death: Magdalene is very sweet. The younger kids look up to her, and she thinks all the older kids are brilliant. She’s gotten upset over a lot of the things that go down in the basement, she’s still squeamish and not at all used to the violence. Some people just can’t adjust... 

War: She’s too sweet for her own good. I don’t think she realizes half the bastards down here want her dead. Which includes me an’ maybe you guys too, but hey.

Cain

War: This lil’ fucker has so much energy. An’ sticky fingers, too. He’ll nab anythin’ that’s not glued down.

Famine: He’s either really amusing or really annoying. And he’s brave, stupidly so. 

Death: Cain sure is energetic.

Conquest: And annoying.

Death: And resourceful. He’s gotten himself out of a few predicaments with quick wit and... just, whatever he has around him. You’d never think so because of how young he is, but he’s not one to be underestimated.

Pestilence: Maybe he’s just lucky. Sure seems like every- everything uh, works out for him, awfully convenient. 

Death: Doesn’t seem like that’s all there is too it, though.

Judas

War: Stuck-up prick. He’s like Death but an edgy teen - tween? Whatever.

Famine: I don’t really like him either. He’s just super nasty. Certainly never heard of looking on the bright side, either

Conquest: God, he’s unbearable. Judas is vain, rude, pretentious, prideful, smug-

Famine: Don’t those all mean sort of the same thing?

Conquest: Doesn’t matter, because that’s all that comes to mind. He’s fucking insufferable. 

Pestilence: Not even Judas likes Judas...

Eve

Death: I pity her struggles, and she has such potential that she doesn’t realize... Eve is intelligent and creative, but she spends more time destroying herself than doing something with her skills.

Famine: Yeah, and I guess we’re not making it any better.

...

War: She whines too much. But yeah, uh, shame that she’s so sad. Aren’t we supposed to be tormenting the kids? We represent atrocities an’ you’re worried about one edgelord?

Famine: That’s… a bit harsh. I mean, yeah, we don’t have to worry about being nice-

War: Eve’s pretty damn mean anyways.

Famine: But we still have basic decency, right?

War: You eat bugs off the floor, you’re below decency. Y’know, when we first got started down here, you were hellbent on makin’ these kiss’s lives a living - well, hell. What happened?

Famine: I dunno, it’s just not the same anymore. It’s all gone on for too long, it just isn’t funny or anything anymore.

Pestilence: It wouldn’t hurt if she was nicer, but it’s- it’s uh, impossible not to feel bad for her. Or uh, or any of the kids for that matter.

Samson

Famine: Sometimes he... acts before he thinks and uh- he’s a bit... intense?

Pestilence: Typical uh, “dumb” strong guy. But he’s... he’s uh... the other kids rely on him and he’s pretty clever. I guess I’m okay with him.

War: If I had to choose a least-hated, it’d be this guy. Samson’s fuckin’ brutal when he wants to be. It’s actually pretty damn fun to see the extent of it.

Conquest: He should tone it down a little.

Death: Samson is sturdy and courageous, but he is prone to overdoing it. He’s rather temperamental, too.

Lazarus

Pestilence: As I said before, he hates my guts. He’s absolutely terrified of me. And- uh- just, just germs and sickness in general.

Famine: Yeah, he really needs to calm down, he’s probably died of a few heart attacks or aneurisms from stress alone.

Death: Five heart attacks, three aneurisms, numerous other panic-related deaths. 

Pestilence: ... what’s that mean?

Death: Usually just running into harm’s way while freaking out. 

???

War: Annoying and kinda creepy. 

Famine: And that’s all, really.

The Lost

War: He’s fuckin’ pathetic, it’d be sad if it wasn’t so funny.

Death: He’s surprisingly civil for someone who undergoes torment just for existing.

Famine: Not as bad as Goth-Beth’s Lost. Just as sad, just not weirdly clingy.

Pestilence: Isn’t Lost technically Isaac?

Famine: Yeah or uh, something like that.

Conquest: There’s not much to say about him. He’s level-headed at best and a pushover at worse. No self worth, self sabotaging to an extent.

Eden

Conquest: One of the few that I can stand. They’re very well spoken for a child… Eden is a child, right?

Death: Most likely? Eden is pleasant to be around, they’re smart and polite.

War: They’re a goody-two-shoes, that’s what they are. But as least they’re not totally pathetic or an absolute jackass.

Famine: Yeah, Eden can get a bit smug sometimes, and their standards are pretty damn high. But they’re pretty damn young, so hey. They’re very calm, too. And they have a nice sense of style.

Pestilence: They almost always have a new hairstyle… sometimes they even act a bit different.

Azazel

Conquest: Fucking hate that kid.

Death: Azazel takes a bit too much enjoyment in his trickery. Maybe if his dad payed some attention to him he wouldn’t be this way.

War: He’s annoyin’, but sometimes it’s a bit fun to see how he fucks shit up for people.

Famine: Sometimes he takes his jokes a bit too far. Otherwise, he’s... he’s like any other 12-13-14 year old, you know how they get... Could be worse, though. 

Pestilence: I don’t like dealing with brimstone... or Azazel in general. But you get used to it all pretty quick.

Lilith

Conquest: Lilith nice for a demon, but she’s still very- ... well, I fear she’ll go down the wrong path. I’d say her father’s ought to raise her better, but with Dark One’s influence she’d fare even worse.

Death: At least Adversary is there to look after her. She is kindhearted and looks after the other kids, but she puts her own wellbeing aside sometimes. That, and she’s got a few risky behaviors.

Famine: I... think I’m seeing a pattern here. So many shitty parents...

War: She’s... cool I guess. I don’t like any of the kids that much but she’s one of the most tolerable, an’ I’m not jus’ sayin’ that ‘cause we’re related. Her famiilars, though...they get pretty damn annoying.

And… sometimes the way she acts is… concerning.

Pestilence: Uh, ditto. I... don’t have a lot to say.

The Keeper

War: This guy. This fucking guy. God I hate him. All he does is pickpocket an’ scam people outta their hard earned money. Even worse when Cain gets involved in his schemes.

Famine: Very charismatic, but I don’t like the competition.

Pestilence: You’re still trying to sell stuff?

Famine: Uh, how else do I get money? I think Bossman’s cutting our pay.

Apollyon

Pestilence: Apollyon’s pretty quiet.

…

Famine: I don’t think they’ve ever spoken to anyone at all. They’re kinda creepy.

Death: That void of theirs seems useful.

Conquest: It’s frightening. But nothing we can’t handle.

War: You of all people? Afraid of Apollyon?

Death: Well, they could be a formidable enemy in the right circumstances. Some of the combinations the kids come up with sure are something…

The Forgotten (and The Soul)

Famine: There’s a lot of dead Isaacs here and I dunno what to think about that. Uh, the Soul is pretty nice.

Death: It’s definitely interesting to see someone who prefers melee to the typical long ranged attacks... Their teamwork is commendable as well.

Pestilence: The skelly dude’s kind of a, erm, blank slate.

Famine: Eh, he’s got a bit of an attitude.

War: The whole. Thing they’ve got goin’ on is cool but the ghost is just weird.

Conquest: How many more Isaacs are there?

Bethany

Death: She’s very studious… and judgmental. Thirteen year olds are the worst, honestly.

Conquest: She thinks she knows it all. But she’s one of the few trying to stay on the path of virtue, so at least that’s commendable.

Famine: And at least Goth-Beth’s kinda funny. Ours has no sense of humor...

War: Pretty ballsy of her to jump down here. But yeah, she’s prissy an’ fussy an’... ugh.

Jacob and Esau

Conquest: I... don’t know what curse has afflicted Esau with... whatever is going on with him but... he’s... alright, despite it all. He keeps to himself, Jacob speaks for both of them, usually. Somehow, they’re less annoying than the others even though they’re a two for one deal.

Famine: Jacob’s nice! But he’s a very... basic guy. There’s just, like, nothing to say about him. Esau? He’s... shy. Wouldn’t hurt if he was a bit more confident.

War: Okay, I’m going to be honest, I don’t pay attention to these fuckers. I don’t give a shit about them. Uh, Esau an’ Punchin’ Bag are alright.

Pestilence: Don’t you mean Jacob and Punching Bag?

War: Nah.

Death: They’re fairly new, same goes for Bethany. I have not seen them around as much, but they’re tolerable and... down to earth, I suppose, at least when compared to the other kids.

[tylerwritez]

Hey guys its uhhh Saturday July 3rd 2021 9:53 a.m.

I literally got 1-2 hours of sleep •_• because I was up into the earliest hours of the morning talking to Jay and Ariel.

... Its homophobic that Jay was away /j :P and not in my room that night because... how do I say this without saying too much... he turns me on, simple. He's in LEDUC. DUDE. COME BACK I WANT TO FUCK YOU /HJ

I told him this before you guys, but my brain does this thing where it randomly sends me back to some memory and I have to live through the feelings yknow? And I twitch a bit. Well my brain has been sending me back to almost entirely memories of him now. And it's. Not even funny. My crush on him grows...

Oh well, I'm patient.

The forums last night were as usual, unhelpful. My dad looks at me as if I'm a tragedy, as if my skin is a crime scene, and we have a total of *drumroll* TWO COMMENTS! One of them was okay in helpfulness. They mostly just wanted to write about their tattoo cover up of their scars but. They were right about how you are the only person who gets to decide what you think about your scars.

If he thinks of me like that... doesnt mean I HAVE to think of my own self that same way.

So true.

Next person said maybe he doesnt think I'm damaged, maybe hes just gawking at the damage done to me?? And how he couldnt stop it?

And like isnt that the same thing honestly.

Oh hey, yeah I gotta tell you about TODAY. not yesterday or last night.

Well uhm I just woke up on my BEDFRAMELESS BED Cos they packed it and left me with the MATRESS xD (I wonder if this is their way of cockblocking me /j)

I got ready and uh I was told like, GET THE FUCK UP DUDE WE R GOING TO THE LAKE RIGHT FUCKING NOWWW

So I'm rushing 2 get ready... well not really rushing. I don't rush. I was getting ready. I go to brush my hair and theres NO BRUSH. ITS BEEN PACKED???? WHAT???

I did my best with what I had on hand and then we left

I'm in the car with my friend and annoying ass sister right now and I got music on

We got Tim Hortons (muffin + ice capp) for breakfast (already over my cal limit... •_• as if that's getting followed nowadays)

lol I dont usually eat breakfast tho so I'll try to skip lunch or have a light lunch, so it doesn't mess me up.

Right now as we are driving to the lake... it's mostly canola fields. Theres lots of canola grown where I'm from lol, just drive a little bit out and you'll see the fields and fields of bright yellow like millions of little highlighters sticking up from the grass. I cant make them out individually though... still waiting on those contact lenses.

Again, I'm patient.

I don't think we're super far out... I mean theres still lots of cars, signs, farms, roadside ads, trees, uh, shrubs, and if we WERE further out the land would be more bare... #grassland #praries #Alberta

Also the sun just makes everyhting look more alive.

Oh NOO IM DESCRIBING THE SCENERY... boring!

Idk. There isn't much to discuss, I'm just listening to music because I'm content with just that. If I come up with anything funny/Insightful(?) I'm gonna make a twitter draft.

10:17 a.m, signing off temporarily,

Judas/Jude Shepard.

4:25 p.m.

We got to the lake, talked, got ice cream, talked, went in the #water... lake stuff.

My friend was gushing over this guy and like...  DILF. IF YOU SAW HIM... xD of course I'm just looking though. He just had big pecs which is attractive to me, and the overall build with these broad shoulders XD.

Tbh? I know me and Jay are TECHNICALLY not dating, but I feel like I'm dedicated to him. That's probably because of my crush on him but oh well.

I just keep thinking horny thoughts it's a plague within my brainnnnn and I know its his fault

I did end up asking him but by then he had already logged off so.... he'll respond soon and I gotta be ready. It appears that my mom is signing up for a Christian dating app... we'll see how that goes.

As for Jay's responding, I'll just tell him nevermind.

Anwyays we are headed back, possibly to the bookstore, possibly home.

I KNOW I talk a lot about the same things but that's because I'm infatuated with them.

I'm infatuated with... him.

I think of him in my mind and bam instant horny

I'll try to think of soemthing else,,, this is. Uh. Inconvenient right now.

I'll keep updating you though lol.

Hope I'm not annoying talking about Jay all the time.

I AM doing other stuff, I have a life. I just... I guess I unintentionally highlight certain parts a lot.

11:55 p.m.

IM EXHAUSTED GODDAMNIT MY DAD WAS MAD AT me...

... I wanted to ask to go to my friends house tommorowbut my dad is pissed at me for... closing my door??? dude omg hes like “what were you doing for two hours with the door closed” uhm reading? on my phone? jacking off? im a normal person lol. i said reading and on my phone which IS true and he said”sure...” all  sarcastic WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY?? YEAH I JACKED OFF???? stfu

hes not even mad at me hes mad cos my mom is goign on a date lolDONT TAKE IT OUT ON ME STFU

I'm dead.

So I didnt ask cos I was scared shitless lmaooo but I have an appointment anwyays so it works out.

I just read a bunch of this comic called outcast. That's it really. Now I'm gonna sleep after I post to twitter a bit...

ALSO I asked Jay finally about uh. Yeah. Scarring. and he said beauty is in the eye of the beholder. He said I was hot but then he said that on the other hand it feels weird when he runs his hands over them, but in general, he loves me.

So he said "I don't care if you have scars or not, you're still you"

I love him honestly hes so supportive.

I admit I'm a bit sad thinking they feel weird but honestly? Yeah. They do. I felt up my leg where the scars are to check and it feels like hard ribs/ridges to the touch of a hand but he still thinks I'm pretty so I'm not gonna let the scars get me down. Cos I'm still me. It's just scars. Doesn't affect anything.

:,)

Also erin found a hagstone!!!

Gn,

Jude Shepard

[twokinkybeans]

Jar Of Dirt Chapter 7: Swiss  [Starker Fanfiction NSFW/18+]

Kink/Sexual Warnings: Sex Toys, Anal Penetration, Hand Jobs, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Humiliation, Subspace, Multiple Orgasms, Name-Calling. Other warnings: Tony's having anxious feelings about the events that went down in the last chapter.

All Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10 ... Masterpost (More to come!)

---

Chapter 7: Swiss The first thing Tony does when he wakes up the next morning is grabbing his phone and Peter’s AirPods to go through the security footage from last night. He knew something was off about the story Peter told him about kicking out a ‘random drunk dude’, but he hadn’t wanted to pry during the party. Peter’s still snoring softly and drooling on his pillow. Tony scoots closer, enjoying his warmth. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., show me all security footage that includes Peter from last night at triple speed.” He stares at the screen intently. Everything seems to be perfectly fine at first. Peter’s laughing, having fun and hanging out with his aunt and some of the Avengers. But a few minutes in, he spots him. “Real-life speed, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he whispers and the recordings slow down. His heart thumps in his chest as he watches Beck walk up to his boyfriend with that smug grin on his lips. No. No, no, no. How did he even get into the Tower?  

His blood runs cold, and horrified, he listens to all the filth the man throws at Peter. The offer, the degrading comments about Peter’s motivation to be with Tony, the sexual insinuations. He sees how badly Peter’s trying to hold himself together, trying to stay in charge of the situation. He watches Peter force the man to the elevator and F.R.I.D.A.Y. switches shots. Tony’s jaw is clenched for the entirety of the time Peter and Beck spend in the elevator. Anxious for something to happen. "Ah…” Beck coos. “He hasn’t told you yet, has he?” Tony’s pretty sure he hasn’t blinked since Beck showed up in the footage, but now he feels the tears prick in the corners of his dried eyes. He dreads what’s coming next. What Peter is going to say. The elevator doors open and Peter remains unmoved. “Get out.” Tony closes his eyes, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. His breathing is shaky and his chest is tight. Peter’s in control. Not Beck. Quentin is not pulling the strings like he did when Tony was still with him. He sniffs once and bites the inside of his cheek, opening his eyes again to watch Beck step outside the elevator. “I’ll be looking forward to your pretty moans.” Beck laughs and walks towards the front door, blowing Peter a kiss. “Ruuffffff!”

Tony turns the screen off and lets his head hang back, taking a deep breath and removing the AirPods from his ears before turning towards Peter, sneaking an arm around his waist. Peter shifts, closer into the embrace in his sleep. Tony stares at the young man, so peacefully lying here in his arms. He can’t believe Beck came here. He can’t believe he had the guts to talk shit to his boyfriend. However, an immense surge of pride washes over him as well for how Peter told this man off. He handled it so well. Not letting the awful words get the better of him.

“You’re really living up to his perverted tendencies, aren’t ya?” Beck’s voice echoes in his mind. “Ruufffff!”  

Tony feels sick. Nauseous. He hasn’t seen the man in nearly a decade, and Tony doesn’t like how Beck still creeps under his skin, scaring him. Making him feel insecure and taken advantage of. He doesn’t like how the man’s voice makes him doubt everything. Is Beck right? Is Tony an old creep for being with Peter? No matter how much he loves having sex with him, it isn't about that at all. He loves Peter for who he is, even if they wouldn't get sexual. Is that still considered perverted?

-

At breakfast, Peter suddenly puts his spoon down and looks up at Tony. His eyes are so serious that it has Tony on edge instantly. “Tony?” Peter takes a deep breath. “You know that, uhm, I’m not with you for your money, right?”

Oh. Shit.

Tony bites down his lip and tries to keep the sudden surge of emotions under control. God. He’s such a wreck today. Peter had seemed rather unfazed by Beck’s tirade, but of course Tony should’ve known it would get to him more than he’d show. “Baby, of course I know that. Do you know just how hard it is to spoil you?” Tony speaks, trying to think about how to break it to him that he knows about Beck. He should just say it to him right out. “I watched the security footage this morning. I saw, uhm, Beck.” Peter’s expression falters. “You watched it, why?” “You’re bad at keeping secrets, kid,” Tony jokes, trying to keep the conversation as light-hearted as he can. He doesn’t want to drag the boy down into his inner mess. Peter scoffs. “I am not!” “Honey, you told me to try the whiskey I’d been drinking all night.” “Okay, maybe a little,” the boy confesses, his face a strange mixture between a goofy grin and the weight of the situation flashing across his eyes.

Tony realizes that this is the moment he should stop hiding. Peter is - funny enough - the most mature boyfriend he’s ever had. He has to tell Peter the whole story. He deserves it. “I’m very proud of you, Peter. For how you handled him.” “God. Mr. Stark. I wanted to punch him so bad.” “You did well, sweetie.” Tony takes a deep breath. “Beck’s manipulated me throughout our entire relationship. When I saw him walking towards you in the footage, I- I was scared.” “He’s an asshole.” “Took me a couple of years to realize that.” “Years?” Peter asks, carefully. Tony had shortly mentioned his exes before but he’s never elaborated on them. He always told Peter they should only focus on what they had going on right now. That that was the most important thing. “Even after he left I thought it was all my fault. You know?” Tony hates how unsteady his voice sounds, but he has to push through. Peter deserves to know the full story now. “Sometimes, I still think that. Of course, in hindsight I can see how abusive and toxic he was. He’s very manipulative; made me do things I didn’t want to do. When I said no, he’d push through or tell me he’d leave if I didn’t. When I finally told him what I liked, he ran off to the media to go public about it.” Tony looks down, almost reliving that moment. “I figured out what he was up to and could shut it down just in time.”

Peter slides off his chair and walks towards Tony, hugging him from behind tightly. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Tony,” he whispers. “But he’s wrong about everything he said last night. I’m here. And I love you.” Tony closes his eyes, reaching up to pull Peter in closer. “He’s delusional,” the boy continues. “With the whole barking thing he did? As if I’m your dog or something like that.” Peter scoffs. Tony swallows at the hurtful stab in his chest. Oh, if only Peter knew. “Please, don’t let his comments get to you,” Peter says quietly. “You don’t have to tell me or try anything you’re not ready for. Once you are, I promise you I will stick with you,” Peter pauses. “Literally.” Tony’s surprised laugh fills the room. “You’re perfect, baby. Thank you.” “Mmmmh, you’re going to love me even more when I give you your birthday present!”

Tony had nearly forgotten about his birthday today and he breaks out into a grin. He would push away whatever happened with Beck last night, for now. “Oh, now you got me curious,” he grins. “Wait. Right here. I’ll get it for you!” The boy runs towards their bedroom and Tony shakes his head happily at the sudden enthusiasm. When he comes back, there’s a large-squared present in his lover’s hands. He pushes Tony’s breakfast aside and places the present in front of him. “Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers and Tony grins at the nickname, definitely not minding it. “I-I hope you like it.” “I like everything you give me.” Tony tugs the present a bit closer and sees there’s a note.

For the sweetest, quirkiest and most handsome man, I’ve ever met in my entire life. I love you. May this present bring us even closer. -X Peter

Tony slowly tears the bright red wrapping paper and once he takes it off, his jaw drops. There’s a stack of old records. Black Sabbath - of course, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Rammstein, Adam Ant - Tony snickers at that one - God, that brings him back, Dead Moon, The Cramps- Oh! , Nine Inch Nails. “Pete,” Tony says breathlessly. “How’d you get these? This must’ve cost you a fortune!” He slowly shakes his head, eyes wide. Tony could snap his fingers and these records would be delivered right to his doorstep. Whatever this cost, to Peter it’s a lot. “Do you like it?” Peter leans on the counter, resting his head in his hands. His eyes gleam hopefully and Tony breaks into a smile. “Kid- this… I don’t know what to say.” “YES!” Peter jumps, startling Tony. “There’s only so many times I got you speechless, so I’m counting this as a win!” Tony laughs and moves to grab Peter’s hands. The boy turns to him and his bright smile has Tony’s heart flutter. “I- I can’t let you pay for these, kid.” “Shush!” Peter pouts like a child. “I didn’t spend every free second of last week on Craigslist for you to just throw money at me again. It’s a gift, Mr. Stark! Take it!” Tony raises his hand to caress the boy’s cheek. Peter instinctively closes his eyes and leans into Tony’s touch. "Besides," Peter smiles. "-your present is slightly self-indulging. I want to listen and dance to all of these together. Like I said on the note, these albums will bring us closer."

“That's an amazing idea," Tony whispers. "Still, let me give you something else too…” Tony mumbles. “Like what?” Peter mutters back, not opening his eyes. “Well!” Tony steps back and lets go of Peter suddenly, startling the boy. “Wait here.” “Mr. Sta-” Before Peter can protest, Tony makes his way behind the kitchen counter and grabs their Jar of Dirt from a cabinet. They’d hidden it for the party, but Peter’s dick twitches in his pants already, a slight Pavlovian response to seeing the jar again. Tony unscrews the lid and puts it on the counter, but instead of putting his hand in, he turns again, opening a drawer and taking out a folded piece of paper. Peter curiously watches Tony’s shenanigans as he sits down on the barstool, pushing away his bowl of now soggy cereal.

Tony grins and cocks his head. When he speaks again, it’s dramatic. Acted. Old-timey. Peter smiles. It’s funny. “Oh, I think it is time for us to get another piece of paper from the jar. Don’t you think so too? Peter?” The man leans in and gives Peter an over the top wink. Peter can’t help but laugh. This is silly. But he’s enjoying it. He loves seeing this side of Tony. When the older man stands up straight again, he presents the piece of folded paper he got out of the drawer and with a swift motion he brings his hand with the paper into the jar. He immediately pulls it out again, not even touching the other ones resting in it. “Now, would you look at that! We pulled out a whole, brand new kink for us to explore!” Peter hides his face in his hands, shaking his head, unable to stop smiling. Tony’s a dork. His dork. Fuck, he loves this man.

Tony presents the folded piece of paper to Peter in both hands, with a small bow, head bent down. Peter shakes his head again and takes the paper from Tony’s hands. “You’re unbelievable, Mr. Stark,” he chuckles. Tony stands up straight and proudly angles his chin up. “I aim to be.” He shifts again, holding a butler pose and nodding to Peter. “Now, if you would do us the honors of reading what’s on the paper?” Peter looks down at the note as he twists it between his fingers. He carefully opens it, occasionally glancing up to watch Tony’s expression. The man looks at Peter with wide, excited eyes. Peter can’t help but feel excited as well. Whatever Tony has planned, it must be good. He’s never been this hyped to try out one of his kinks before. Call it a breakthrough. Peter finally looks down at the piece of paper, his mouth dry with anticipation. However, he frowns when he reads the note.

Swissy.

“Um… Tony?” “Yeees?” Tony’s voice shifts in pitch as he answers. He’s nearly buzzing with excitement. “What’s… Swissy?” “Ah!” Tony exclaims, raising both hands above his head, palms aimed at the ceiling. “Boy, am I glad you asked.” Tony bends down, completely in his element, to open another cabinet door and out comes a black, square box about the size of a small picture frame. He places it on the counter, slowly pushing it towards Peter with a smirk. The boy eyes the box cautiously and he puts down the piece of paper. “Tony, it’s your birthday. I’m not taking any presents from you.” Tony stands up straight and cocks an eyebrow. “Trust me, sweet thing, when I say this going to be as much of a present to me as it is to you.” “How so?” Tony nods at the box. “Just open it.”

Peter slowly moves his hands towards the box, letting his fingers glide over the soft material. He catches Tony biting his lip from the corner of his eye and Peter’s breath hitches in his throat. God, this must be really good. It opens like a jewelry box, the padding inside holding a... Black cube? Peter stares at it for a little bit, trying to figure it out. Nothing about it seems to make sense, though. “...What am I looking at?” “Right!” Tony walks around the counter to stand next to Peter and he gestures at the box with one hand. “That-” he nods. “-is something I have been working on for a little bit.” “Okay, but what is it?” Peter has to look up, as he’s still sitting on the stool and Tony looks down at him, giving him a loving smile. “It’s a.. Toy.” Peter’s eyes go wide and Tony smiles triumphantly. “Or, I’d say the toy.” Peter licks his lips and he looks back at the matte black cube. “It’s a dildo, a vibe, a plug, yada, yada, anything I want it to be.” The way Tony enunciates the fact that he decides what the toy is, makes Peter shiver. “It’s basically a Swiss army knife, but, without the knives. Hence why I decided to endearingly call it the Swissy.” The older man chuckles darkly. ”We’re going to have a lot of fun with this.”

Peter turns to look Tony in the eye again and the billionaire could take his boy right then and there. The hungry look on Peter’s face is making Tony slightly dizzy. The older man shifts to stand behind Peter, who squirms in his seat. His hands rest on the boy’s shoulders, softly squeezing them, massaging them until they relax. Tony leans in and presses a feather kiss on Peter’s ear. The boy shivers under his touch and Tony smirks. “Go on, sweet boy. Take it out,” he whispers. Peter stares at the cube for a few seconds before carefully removing it out of the padding. He turns and twists it in his hands, studying it, trying to see anything distinguishable on it, while Tony continues to massage Peter’s neck and shoulders. Peter pulls a face. It’s still just a black cube with a rubbery texture.

“How does it work?” Peter asks quietly, a little dazed from Tony’s attention. Tony presses a soft kiss on top of Peter’s head and closes his eyes. He presses his fingers into Peter’s shoulders when he replies. “Squeeze it, love.” Goosebumps rise all over Peter’s body and he does as told, slightly squeezing the cube. Out of nowhere, lines light up, bright blue. Peter stares at it in awe. He sighs disappointed when Tony’s hands disappear from his shoulders so he can stand next to Peter again. He grabs his phone and unlocks it with a mischievous look on his face. “Hmm… What do I want you to try out first?” “You’re telling me you can control this thing with your phone?” “Oh yeah. Every time you’ll squeeze it, I get to choose what you’ll be playing with” Peter feels hot all over at the idea of Tony being in charge of him even at a distance. This is going to take their phone sex to a whole new level, shit. “Ah!” Tony exclaims and taps something on his phone. Peter gasps when the cube moves in his hands, within milliseconds, he’s holding a slightly arched dildo. Another tap from Tony on his screen and the toy starts to buzz. “Wow. Tony.” Peter chuckles. “You made this, for me?” “I sure did. Was worth all the extra lab hours for sure. You like it, kid?” “I- I do.”

Tony taps his phone again, and again, showing Peter everything that the toy - Swissy - can do. By the time all features, a whopping 27 of them, have been explained, Peter has a damp spot in his sweatpants. And it didn’t go unnoticed. Tony leans over Peter from behind, resting his head on his shoulder and creeping his arm around Peter’s waist. The young man jolts when Tony cups his hard on, his thumb rubbing slow circles. “Anything you’d like to try, boy?” Tony nibbles on Peter’s ear, causing him to whine and buck his hips in the hopes of gaining more friction against the billionaire’s hand. Peter nods slightly. “Y-yes, daddy,” he moans. “But- it’s your birthday. You pick.” Tony grins against Peter’s hair, his other hand finding its way under Peter’s shirt to slowly tweak his nipple. He increases the pressure on Peter’s dick and Peter screws his eyes shut, trying to hold back another whine. “Ohh,” Tony coos. “So good for me, Peter. Such a lovely, good boy.”

“Mhm,” is all Peter can muster up to say. He absentmindedly starts rolling his hips in the chair. Tony takes his hand off Peter’s nipple to grab his phone and change Swissy’s shape. Peter’s eyes are fixated on the toy in his hands and his lip quivers when he sees what it’s turned into. Tony then tugs on Peter’s dick through his sweats. “Get up,” he orders. Peter complies fast, nearly knocking over the stool on his way up. Tony immediately presses his own hard-on against Peter’s ass. “Take off that hoodie,” he growls. “Stop hiding your pretty body.” Tony’s free hand grabs the Swissy from Peter’s hands and the boy undresses swiftly, not wanting to waste a second. Tony caresses Peter’s soft, bare skin, leaving hot, wet kisses on his shoulder blades as he continues to tease Peter’s hard cock.

“Daddy-” Peter whimpers. “I know, baby, I know…” Tony coos lovingly. “Let me help with those pants. But first…” Tony pushes Peter over the counter with the hand that’s holding the Swissy. “Down, boy.” Peter shudders and obeys, feeling the cold, granite countertop sting his skin, making his nipples hard. Peter’s arms hang limp next to him and he angles his head sideways, whining when Tony lets go of his dick. Tony caresses every inch of Peter’s back, making his way down to the waistband of the sweatpants. He hooks his fingers in and starts pushing down, a surge of arousal shooting through him when he finds the boy isn’t wearing underwear. “Such a naughty boy,” Tony moans, squeezing Peter’s ass with one hand, making Peter whimper. “You knew you were going to get fucked again today, didn’t you? Even though I already destroyed your pretty, little hole yesterday?” Peter whines, closing his eyes. “Y-yes, daddy. I just need you so bad, feels so good- please touch me.” Tony kisses one of Peter’s buttcheeks and then stands up straight to give it a gentle, but hard smack. Peter jolts forward on the counter, an obscene moan echoing against the walls.

“Peter, Peter…” Tony looks down and rubs the spot he just hit with his palm. “I will only really touch you once you make it to the bed.” Peter frowns, unsure what it means, but then Tony’s fingers slide towards Peter’s crack. “Open wide.” Peter arches his back as far as he can, pushing his butt towards Tony and instinctively unclenching. “Good boy.” Tony contemplates opening Peter up first, but that would be against what he just said. Instead, he decides to immediately go for it and gently push in the Swissy. He knew it’d been a good idea to make the toy self-lubricating. Peter moans unsatisfied. The Swissy’s current shape isn’t very big, so it doesn’t exactly fill him up the way he’d want. Tony lets go of Peter completely, which leaves him feeling naked and alone. He senses the billionaire walks away from him and he opens his eyes to see only to find Tony standing in front of the bedroom door, phone in hand. He taps a few buttons and Peter’s cock jolts with arousal when the Swissy starts buzzing inside of him. Directly against his prostate. “OH!” Peter pushes himself into the counter with wide eyes and an opened mouth as he stares at Tony, who smirks mischievously. Peter’s eyes roll back in their sockets as he absentmindedly thrusts into nothing, feeling the vibrator buzz through his entire body. “Remember what I said, Peter.” Tony cocks an eyebrow. The boy opens his eyes, a pleading look on his face, but he does recall daddy’s words.

“I will only really touch you once you make it to the bed.”

Peter has to make his way to the bedroom by himself, knowing Tony will be ruthless. He’s still holding his phone, thumb at the ready and a dazed smile crawls onto Peter’s face. This man is unreal. Peter slowly scrambles upright, using his hands to find balance on the counter. The gentle buzzing shows no sign of slowing down and Peter takes a deep breath before letting go, so he can take his steps towards Tony. “Color?” Tony’s voice is distant, but present and goosebumps spread over Peter’s entire body. “Green,” he moans in reply. He realizes he shouldn’t have said that so soon, because suddenly the vibrator increases to an incredibly high setting and Peter gasps, locking up his joints and muscles. After a few seconds, Tony releases him and the boy stumbles, barely able to stand upright. The buzzing is gentle again. But never gone. When he manages to take two more small steps with his eyes shut, he is attacked with mind blowing pleasure yet again and this time his legs give in. He crashes to the ground, landing on his hands and knees and moans loudly as he arches, pushing his butt away from him, unable to get the friction he’s so desperately longing for..

“That feel good, boy?” “P-please-” Peter whimpers. “C-can’t move-” his body convulses when Tony brings the setting down for less than a second, almost immediately throwing it back up to even higher than it was before. Peter wails, precum dripping from his cock onto the floor as he tries to move forward. He knows Tony will never allow him to come on the floor like this. He has to get to the bed to find release. He has to. Tony dials it down again, enough for Peter to open his eyes slightly. Tony’s still at the door. Waiting for him. Peter puts his foot down on the floor, aiming to stand up, but when he tries to, Tony throws the vibrator back up once again. The boy is stuck on his knees, pressing his chin against his chest. He gasps for breath, head swimming with incoherent thoughts.

The billionaire brings the vibrations down again, but Peter knows better than to stand up now. There’s nothing more he wants in the world than to be in Tony’s arms now. To be touched by him. And Peter will only be able to get to him if he stays down. He’s going to have to crawl. God, this is humiliating, but fuck, does it feel good. Peter puts one hand in front of the other, slowly making his way over the dark tiled floor. Instead of heavy, short bursts, Tony increases the vibrations gradually. The closer Peter gets to daddy, the more pleasure he feels.

Tony is fighting himself on the inside. Cause, shit, his little slut looks so good for him. On his knees, crawling towards daddy. He never meant to put Peter in this position, but he can’t help himself. The boy is loving this, Tony can see it in his eyes. They’re both drunk with pleasure and lust. Tony relishes in the power he has over Peter. How perfectly the boy surrenders to him. He can’t wait for Peter to make it to the bed. Peter blinks fast as he makes his way to his daddy, his mouth dry from gasping and panting. When he nearly reaches Tony, he whines as the man walks into the bedroom instead of taking Peter’s stretched out hand. Tony leaves the door open and sits down on the side of the bed, patting Peter’s spot with an open palm. Smirking intently.

Peter could get there within a second if he could just collect himself. But… He’s not sure if he wants to. His leaking cock is leaving a trail of little drops on the floor and this it’s taking all of his willpower to keep himself together. And it feels so good to be on his knees for daddy. The look on Tony’s face tells Peter how much this turns the older man on. Skipping it because his spider powers could allow him to was out of the question. Peter continues his journey, occasionally having to pause when Tony decides to turn up the vibrations. There’s a sheen of sweat on his body and he smiles triumphantly when he reaches out and feels the sheets with his fingers. He made it. Peter crawls up the bed, whimpering as the toy moves inside him, his aching cock screaming at him to be touched. Tony’s undressed now, Peter doesn’t recall seeing him get out of his clothes, but then again, he was a little preoccupied.

“Well done, Peter,” Tony says with a smile. The boy drops himself face first into the pillows, gasping for air when the vibrations stick on a low setting. “Why don’t you turn on your back for me? I want to show you what you do to me.” Tony’s voice is deep, dripping arousal with each word. Peter complies and turns to his back, hands to his sides. Tony makes his way to sit on top of him, legs either side. He doesn’t sit down, though, leaving Peter untouched. The boy whines but Tony stops him by crashing their lips together in a heated kiss. Their mouths open and their tongues dance. Peter can still taste the orange Tony ate for breakfast on his lips.

Tony lets go suddenly and sits up straight again. His hand was already stroking his own cock, but now Peter can see it. Right in front of his face. Tony is jerking himself off. He still has his phone in his other hand and he sighs breathlessly. Tony groans as he throws his head back. “Can’t stop touching myself,” he growls. “You know whose fault that is?” When Peter wants to reply, Tony throws up the vibrations again, causing Peter to jolt involuntarily and buck his hips up. “M-Mine!” “That’s right, boy.” Tony sets the vibrations to a medium-high setting, watching Peter squirm under him, not finding any friction or release. All he can do is moan and pant and watch Tony’s hand pump his own shaft. “You are truly a sight, sweet slut.” Tony grins, rolling his hips mid-air, loving how Peter’s eyes are glued to his cock. The boy’s mouth is open and he twitches constantly, the vibrator teasing him non stop. “Bet you want me to fuck your face?” Peter’s eyes roll back and he nods frantically as he tries to thrust his hips up. “Yes, daddy, want your c-cock, need it. Fill me- please, anywhere!” Precum trickles down Tony’s dick at Peter’s words. “Fuck! No, you’re not getting me today-” he growls. “I already gave you the Swissy, you’re just gonna watch me now.” “W-watch-” Peter repeats mindlessly. He sounds out of it, and Tony moans. “That’s right, slut. You won’t be coming until I’m done.” Tony’s hand goes faster and faster, desperately trying to reach that sweet release. “Make me cum, Peter, use your words.”

Peter licks his lips. As much as he wants to look at Tony’s face right now, his eyes are stuck on the billionaire’s crotch. His dick is long, hard, thick and dripping precum and it must be throbbing and twitching in Tony’s hands just like Peter’s dick is throbbing and twitching against his abdomen and oh, god! “Fuck, daddy, look so hot on top of me-” Peter manages to get out. “Please, show your pretty slut your come, come all over me, daddy, cover me!” “SHIT!” Tony didn’t expect to last this short but Peter is so beautiful and his words are so filthy and Tony’s hand around his cock is pumping so fast and now he’s spilling his seed all over Peter’s upper body and face. The man jolts when he sees Peter open his mouth to try and catch some of it. The image is bored into Tony’s mind, knowing he’s going to use that exact memory to get off the coming week. That and the footage F.R.I.D.A.Y. takes of them. Peter knows about it. Agreed to it if he got to watch it too, yet he rarely asks for it.

Peter slurps obscenely, cleaning his lips with his tongue and innocently looking up at his daddy as he still twitches from the vibrator buzzing in his ass. Tony can barely hold himself up, so he leans down to kiss Peter. The boy moans when Tony starts licking his face, getting rid of his own cum with his tongue. “So good for me, Peter,” he groans as he sucks a hickey on Peter’s neck. “D-daddy-” the boy whines. Tony smiles. “Yes, sweetheart, I think it’s time for your reward.” He repositions himself slightly, shifting back so he can kneel between Peter’s legs. The boy’s thighs resting on his own, causing his pelvis to tilt forward just the right amount. Perfect for Tony to reach and feel wherever he wishes. “Hmmm, look how messy you are, sweetness.” Tony whispers, trailing his fingers through the cum staining on the boy’s chest. Dragging it along the taut, strong muscles. He doesn’t waste too much time teasing, Peter deserves to be touched. He curls his fingers around the base of Peter’s cock and starts pumping at dazzling speeds right away. “O-OH!” “How’s that feel, hmmm?” “D-Don’t stop. Mr. Stark. F-fuck!” The boy’s shaking underneath his touch, bucking his hips wildly at the slight overstimulation. He’s seen the boy reach his peak so often now that he knows that he’s just seconds away from coming. But Tony doesn’t stop. Instead, he reaches for the vibrator with his free hand, fucking Peter with it. Peter’s panting, gasping for air and when Tony angles the vibrator slightly up, a silent cry leaves the boy’s lips. His entire body arches, shuddering, when his come mingles with Tony’s on his chest. Then, he slumps down and rides through the rest of his high. Tony slows his movements down, but he’s not stopping entirely, leaving the boy a whimpering mess.

“Remember you told me how you can multiple times, baby?” Peter’s eyes widen. Fuck. Oh fuck. He chuckles breathlessly. Yes, yes he can come multiple times in a row. But his orgasms never hit him as hard when he’s alone. He’s so spent, so fucked-out already. Yet, his cock is still stirring in his lover’s warm grip. He feels embarrassed to admit, but yes, he does want to go at it again. “Gonna get the last drop out of your pretty cock, baby.” Tony growls, and slowly, very slowly, starts building up again. “Give it to me. Ask me for it, honey.” “Please, daddy!” “What’s that now?” “Please, can I come again?” The boy’s cheeks are flushed, hands gripping onto the headboard to steady himself when Tony drives the vibrator into him faster and faster. Little beads of sweat rise up to the boy’s chest, his body just taking whatever’s thrown at it. “Good boy, you make daddy so happy. Love watching your pretty face when you come.” “S-so close already!” “I know, daddy knows.” He lets go of Peter for a hot second - relishing in the whine that leaves his lover’s lips. He spits into his own hand and grips the boy’s hard cock again, making it more slick and pleasurable for Peter.

Peter whimpers when Tony touches him again, he’s so goddamn close. He doesn’t know how to speak anymore. Has lost control over all his movements. He just lets his body guide him. Lets Tony guide him. Pleasure rushes through his veins, burning all over his skin and making him shiver. “Come,” Tony’s voice hits him, hard. His body obeys, releasing yet another load of his come all over his abdomen, clenching around the vibrator which is still stimulating his prostate without pause. He’s trying to catch his breath, but Tony doesn’t give him time. His hands start speeding up again. Drawing another orgasm from him. And another. And another.

Peter feels how he’s slowly spacing out, completely overwhelmed and his Spidey-sense so thoroughly overstimulated that it gives in completely. There are colors everywhere around him. A rainbow surrounds him. Envelopes him. He’s lying on pink clouds. The experience makes him so bubbly and happy that he laughs, reaching out for the hues in front of him. “M-Mr. Stark. Do you see all these pretty colors? I-I…” Suddenly there’s a shiny blue light coming from the center of his vision and he gasps, trying to touch it. “Careful, kid,” comes Tony’s steadying voice and Peter groans, slowing down his movements. His fingers graze across something smooth and slightly cold, sending him another jolt of pleasure through his fingertips. Right next to the smooth surface, he feels something warmer. Softer. Tony’s skin. He loses himself in the sensations around him. The dancing colors, the encouraging words that he hears in the back of his head. Good boy, so pretty, so proud. His skin tingles and burns and everything just feels so perfect that it makes him want to cry. He’s vaguely aware of the dizzying sensation in his crotch, how it doesn’t seem to stop. He doesn’t want it to stop. Ever.

-

“Baby,” comes a soft, gentle voice out of nowhere. Peter blinks, trying to figure out where it’s coming from. “Right here, sweetness.” His eyes flutter open this time, and he groans when the bright daylight hits him. He feels so disoriented and he takes a deep breath. After a few seconds, he slowly starts to make out Tony’s face and he smiles, still very much dazed out. “Hi, Tony,” he slurs and giggles at the happy feeling in his chest. He moves and frowns, how did he get this sticky? Slowly, his memories seep back into his mind. The present Tony got for him. The crawling.

Oh.

“Peter, how are you feeling?” Tony’s voice is sweet and caring and Peter feels a deep satisfaction settle in his chest. “Incredible.” “You came so much, baby. You came eight times in a row, I’m so proud of you,” Tony whispers, cradling him from the side. Peter smiles, closing his eyes again and snuggling closer into the man’s chest. He’s still at a loss for words, but the impact of the situation is definitely dawning upon him. He just completely lost himself. His senses kicked into overdrive so hard that he’d hit more than just his subspace. Now that he thinks about it, he remembers everything. Not every second, but he does recall the things that went down. How Tony completely lost it as well, releasing himself all over Peter’s chest. It makes his eyes sting with tears. A few weeks ago, Tony’d been hiding himself. Now he asked Peter to watch. Deliberately showing off his pleasure. The pleasure Peter gave him. “I love you, Tony,” he speaks quietly, “-so much.” He can’t help the tears from actually spilling from his eyes now and he sniffs. Tony holds him closely. “I love you too, Peter. My sweet baby boy.” “Don’t let me go,” he pleads, “-please.” “I won’t. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

--- More: Chapter 8 Masterpost

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 24: slow thaws and cold showers

Sunday, November 4th, 1990

“Think you can make it, or do you want me to carry you over the threshold?”

“I got it, thanks,” I mutter to Alex’s stupid smirking face as I drag myself past him and into our apartment, unable to catch my breath to save my own life.

“You sure? You said that at mile two, too, right before you dry-heaved into the Sound…”

“Guess I’m just out of shape.” I ease my shoes off and pour myself into a gross, sweaty puddle on the couch.

“No shit, Sherlock, I guess you need me to leave you in my dust a little more often, give you something to aspire to.” He flexes his arms, where muscles would be if he wasn’t such a string bean, and I’ve officially hit my limit for his smart-ass commentary.

“God, okay, you know what? Just shut the fuck up, you’re not helping.” Alex stops cackling in a hurry at my tone, fixing me with an icy stare.

“What crawled up your ass, Cora? It was just a joke.”

Jokes aren’t funny if you’re the only one laughing, you self-involved asshole. But I know his ego’s not going to accept that for an answer, and I don’t have the energy for a fight right now. “Ugh, I’m sorry, I guess… I don’t know, maybe I’m just coming down with something.”

His expression relaxes a little, although he’s still peering at me. “Yeah, you look pretty pale. Like, more than usual. Want me to get you anything?”

“I’m good, I think I just need to sit here for a second.” You know, until the room stops spinning and my lungs stop burning. What the hell’s wrong with me?

“Okay, you hold down the couch, I’m gonna go shower. Unless you’re up for joining me,” he adds, his voice thick with ironic seduction. He sidles over and strokes my upper arm with his fingertips, and my body shivers with revulsion. Or maybe it was just a chill.

“Thanks but no thanks,” I mumble through gritted teeth.

I close my eyes and sink deeper into the couch, not opening them again until I hear the bathroom door shut and the shower turn on. The first thing they land upon is the phone, sitting innocently on the end table at my feet. I should really call Patch. I miss him, and I want him to tell me what to do about Alex. Well, not really tell me what to do… it’s not his responsibility. But I’ve just had this lingering feeling since he left that I need to make sure he’s really going to be alright with it if I end things with Alex. Somehow it’s like I need to make sure he said his goodbyes when he was here, because I feel so guilty creating a situation where he has to choose a side. I don’t think I can do this unless I know what he thinks.

But Alex is a quick showerer, and that conversation needs a lot more time. What about Lucy? Maybe I can call her and see if I can drop by this afternoon to get away… oh, shit, no, she and Jeff were “painting” today, you couldn’t pay me enough to interrupt that… and anyway, the person I should really call is Stone. I should see if he’s okay by himself or if he needs someone to check in on him.

...Alright, cut the bullshit, you just really want to hear his voice again. His stupid annoying nasal mosquito voice, his stupid cute breathy cackle, that stupid lower register of his voice that always catches me off guard. Fucking asshole, why does everything he does have to be so goddamn endearing… why do I miss him so much… I really just hate how we left things, and I hate how I acted at Cyclops, and I hate that I feel so fucking weird now about just picking up the phone and calling him, I should just do it, call him, just call him, it’s your fucking life, what are you so afraid of…

And like clockwork, Alex switches off the faucet, signaling that I’ve missed my window. God, I hate this, I hate feeling like a prisoner, my life was fucking great when he was gone for a week, what kind of person does that make me? Christ, I don’t even really need to hear it from Patch, this is pathetic, it’s obvious that I need to break up with Alex, I just need better timing…

“Hey, Stinky, your turn!” he booms from the hallway, not even bothering to look around the corner. Christ, what a simple-minded jerk, how did I ever think those kinds of put-downs were cute? Maybe I should just do it now… but ugh, I’m so fucking exhausted, and I have so much work to get done this afternoon… Resigned that it’s going to take a little longer to find the right moment, I haul myself up and toward the shower.

*

“'K, babe, I’m going over to Brian’s for a while, you need anything before I go?”

I lift my forehead up from where it’s been resting on my palm, aware that I’ve probably got a giant handprint from staring at my textbook for so long in one position, and turn to glare at his back as he roots through the fridge for some beer to take to his free-loading friend. “I mean, it’d be swell if you did the dinner dishes or something, I’m gonna be pulling an all-nighter with this problem set.”

“Ha, dishes. Good one.” He closes the fridge, places a rough kiss on the top of my head, and bounds toward the door. “Nice handprint by the way, you look like a fuckin’ Orc. Good luck studying!”

And with that, he heads out the door, rushing right past the disgusting running shoes he’d borrowed from his friend. Weirdly, having those shoes in my house is the closest I’ve ever come to meeting this Brian guy. For all I know, he’s not even real, he could be some made-up excuse Alex has… for all I know, he could be anywhere when he says he’s at “Brian’s,” I mean, Stone could be totally right about Alex cheating, and how would I even know?

Stone. Oh, right.

Well, now that I’ve let my train of thought run careening off these particular tracks, I’m not going to make much headway on marine biogeochemical cycling. And I’m still so… fucking… tired from that run. I gather up my study materials in a haphazard pile and shuffle into my bedroom, where I drop them at the foot of my bed in an unceremonious heap. I circle back to the living room to grab the phone and unloop the phone cord, allowing it to reach down the hall and into my room. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I stare at the phone like I expect it to make the first move. Come on, what are you so afraid of? It’s just Stone.

I’m thoroughly relieved when I get his answering machine, though. Disappointed, maybe, but relieved. Okay, so I can leave him a short message, nothing rambly, just letting him know I hope he’s doing okay. Casual, right? Friends do that kind of thing, right? That’s not awkward, it’s just considerate, and… oh, crap, the beep…

“Hey, Stone? Uh…” my voice comes out way quieter than I intended. So much for not making it awkward. But before I can get another word out, I hear the apartment door swing open and Alex call my name. Gasping in surprise like a total fucking idiot, I hang up the phone in a panic.

“In here!”

He pokes his head around the door frame. “Wow, going to bed already, huh? Party animal. Anyway, I forgot Brian’s shoes.” He holds up the evidence by the laces before frowning at the phone on our bed. “What’s the deal with that?”

“Oh, uhm…” I search my brain for a lie he’ll believe, because I don’t want to hear another earful about how much he hates the person I was actually calling, “I was just gonna take a study break to call Patch, see how he’s doing in Portland.”

He groans in annoyance, but at least that means he bought it. “Ugh, leave the kid alone, will you? Don’t smother him.”

“Bye, Alex,” my words are daggers, and he chuckles before disappearing.

This time, I wait for him to be well and truly gone. I hear the door close, I count several Mississippis, I leave my room to check the window and make sure his Jeep’s really driving out of the parking lot, and then I settle back down on my bed, prepared to redial and leave Stone an actual message with actual human speech. Except that when I pick up the phone, I’ve lost my nerve. A different number springs to mind, one that was left on my answering machine a few days ago, and I punch it in immediately.

“Hey hey, who’s this?”

“Dorothy’s Mortuary, you kill ‘em we chill ‘em,” I can barely get the words out even before Patch’s bright laughter ruins any chance I have of keeping a straight face.

“Ceeeeeee!” He drawls my nickname out. “Where the fuck have you been? What year is it? This is how long it takes you to return a call, you filthy ingrate?”

“Sorry, kiddo, it's been a week. How are you?”

“Uhm, I'm FINE, what do you MEAN it's been a week? Is there drama?”

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you…”

“Not for me. I’m a good girl, I am.” I change the subject to drown out his derisive snort. “So how's the new place? Where are you even staying now?”

“Good, good, my buddy Ethan, you remember him?”

“Mmm, no, don't think so…”

“Oh come on, little gap-toothed kid, couple years between us in school, kinda looks like a gopher…”

“Oh right, Gopher Kid! Ugh, you realize we’re both going to hell, right?”

“Eternal damnation’s kind of our brand, C. Anyway, he moved out here after graduation. And he just happened to be in need of a new roommate when I called, because the universe is pretty great like that.”

“Jesus, with all that sunshine coming out of your ass, you sound like Lucy. How are we even related?”

“You mock me? Tell me with a straight face that there’s no cosmic plan that led me to reunite with an old friend the day after his roommate went to rehab and left him with an extra Judas Priest ticket.”

“Oh, right, there it is. Definitely related.”

“Told you so, smartass. And I even found one of those job things. It’s this little salon called Curl up and Dye and not a single person in the place has a hair on their head in a color that occurs in nature. This place is perfect, C.”

I relax and listen to my little brother fill me in on the life he’s quickly establishing for himself in Portland, content to let him dominate the conversation with the people he’s met, the social scene, the personalities at his new job. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s always been able to fall into a situation and endear himself to absolutely everyone right away, and it’s like everywhere he’s ever been, he’s home. It’s another reason I sometimes feel like it’s impossible that we’re actually related, if I didn’t know better. It’s just pure dumb luck that I met Lucy when I did, or Chris, or Stone… what if I’d never met any of them? What if it had just been me and Alex this entire year? God, what a thought...

“Hey chatterbox, shut up for a minute and let me get a word in edgewise, will you?” he quips after a silence, and I realize how poorly I’ve been holding up my end of the call. A glance at the clock on my nightstand tells me it’s been an hour and a half already.

“Sorry, kiddo, you were on a tear, I didn’t want to break your momentum.”

“That, or you’re trying to blend into the wallpaper again. What’s up?”

“A preposition.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

“Seriously, Cora, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh, flopping backward on my bed, “things aren’t going so great with Alex. I think… I might end it… that is, if you…”

“GLORY FUCKING BE, MARK THE DAY AND TIME!!!”

His thunderous response makes me jerk the phone away from my ear. “Are… you serious?”

“What the fuck did I tell you, Cora? You deserve to be happy, and you’ve turned into fucking Eeyore since you moved up there. Don’t tell me that’s seasonal affective disorder, either, your solar power hypothesis is total bullshit.”

“Okay, it’s NOT bullshit, but moving on…”

“...which YOU should have done months ago, but that’s just me…”

“Huh?”

“Look, I told you, maybe it’s just easier for someone who hasn’t seen you in a while to pick up on it. It probably all feels normal to you, but trust me, it’s fucking brutal to see you this unhappy. It was clear the whole time I was staying with you, C, you’re miserable. Sometimes it takes a big shake-up to really be able to see how broken shit was beforehand. You’re gonna look back on this last year and wonder what the fuck took you so long, I promise.”

“Oh...kay…” my brain feels like it’s stuck in low gear. I expected my little brother to be supportive, but I wasn’t prepared for this avalanche of candor. I’m at a loss for words.

“And you know what, another thing,” he rants on, “you have this thing about not leaving, but guess what? You fucking left Carolina, and it was the best thing you ever did, and I know that because I finally got to do it too. Thanks to you, I might add.”

“Well, to be fair, Alex bought your ticket, and he sent you that check, and…”

“Fuck that, okay. Don’t think I’m not grateful, but if you can’t see that check stunt as blatant manipulation then you’re not the smart one in the family after all. I lit the check on fire, C, I lit a joint with it.”

“But… you and Alex are friends…”

“Yeah, and it’s a cute party trick to be able to hold opposing ideas in one’s head at the same time without spontaneously combusting. I can like the guy and still think that since the last time he and I really hung out, he’s started to treat my sister like shit.”

“Okay, okay, you made your point, I concede defeat. Now why the fuck are you so far away? I need a hug.”

A chorus of voices starts to crowd into his end of the line. “Promise me you’ll cut him loose, Cora.”

“I… yeah.”

“K. I gotta go, the night is young.”

“That is such eighteen year old bullshit.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

After hanging up the phone, I can’t help but stare at it in disbelief for several seconds. Until it rings.

“Hello?”

***

“Hey, Stone? Uh…”

I’m a stunned, frozen lump after listening to her message. She called me? What the hell for? If there was any takeaway from last night’s run-in at Cyclops, it’s that she wants to pretend the whole thing never happened! I mean, I’m not thrilled with the whole revisionist history thing, but I figured she needed some space, which I was totally willing to give, and anyway it’s not like I’m in any condition to go beating down anyone’s door, even if that was my style. Chris is right, she and I have a good thing, and it’ll still be there when this fight blows over. I just need to trust that and let it do what it naturally does, which is knit itself back together into something even better after we’ve had some time to cool off. So why is she calling me?  Is this a fever dream? Am I still running a temperature? No, my forehead feels normal…

Whatever it is, I’m not going to let an opportunity get away. I grab the phone and dial her back, but the line’s busy. Fuck. Okay, okay, patience. Grabbing the mandolin from my bedroom, I park myself on the couch next to the phone to pass a little time until she’s done with whatever call she’s on. Actually, the mandolin and I are slowly becoming friends. The more I mess with this thing, the less punishingly complex it seems. It’s actually not that hard to work out a couple of the Mother Love Bone songs this way, come to think of it…

The music makes for a good distraction. The next time I look at the clock, over an hour has gone by. But it’s still only like 9:00, so it’s not too late to call, right?

To my shock, she picks up before the first ring is even done. “Hello?”

At the sound of her voice, I jump up off the couch and start pacing like a grade schooler calling his crush for the first time.

“H-eughhh-” oh, excellent, open with a coughing fit, that really ups the cool factor, “-hey, uh, it’s me, it’s Stone.”

“Oh.” She sounds startled, or maybe it’s that I’m hacking up a lung right in her ear.

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Hey.”

Well, I don't know what I expected. One word answers sound about right given how we left things. “So, uhm… you called me?”

“Uh, yeah… a while ago… were you trying long?”

“No,” I lie shamelessly. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, not at all, I just got off the phone with Patch.” 

“Oh! How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Uhm, I was just wondering if you were trying to get through the whole time, or…”

“No, honestly, I just tried. Cornell was over here for a while and I missed your call. What's up?”

“Oh, uh, nothing, I just wanted to see if you were doing okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, well, you looked terrible the other day, I just… I don't know, I remembered your parents were out of town and I felt kinda bad thinking about you being sick all by yourself.”

“Aww, really? You were worried about me?”

“Don't get carried away, Stone,  I just didn't want it on my conscience if your parents came back from vacation and found your decomposing body. Too much paperwork.”

A smile spreads across my face at her irritated words. “I’ve honestly never felt so loved.”

She groans. “Well, since we’ve established that you’re not dead, I should probably let you go --”

“No! Hey, it’s been kinda lonely here in quarantine, it’s good to talk to someone. That is, if you can stick around… I don’t wanna keep you…”

After a beat, she mutters in a barely audible tone, “you’re not keeping me.”

“Yeah?” My grin takes on a life of its own as I pick up the phone and walk through my apartment, stretching out on the bed. “We’re back on speaking terms, then?”

“Oh, grow up, we were never not on speaking terms, I just said I wanted to move past it and pretend it never happened.”

“Yeah, and on account of my whole bubonic plague situation, I never got to register my dissatisfaction with that strategy. I still very much want to pretend it did happen.”

“Well,” she equivocates, “it sounds like you’re still plague-adjacent, so now’s hardly the time to duke it out over what did or did not take place…”

Ha! victory! I can hear her fighting off her own smile as I settle into the pillows, savoring the normalcy of bantering with Cora.

“No, you’re right, I’m not really in any shape for another one of our battles. Can I interest you in a temporary ceasefire?”

“With no mention of the things that definitely never happened until some later, as-yet-undetermined summit date?”

“Scout's honor.”

She snorts. “Like hell you were a Boy Scout, Stoner.”

“Stonerrr.” That's it, I can't possibly smile any wider or my face is going to crack. I close my eyes and let her word echo.

“...what?”

“Mmm, I just really missed hearing you call me that.”

“You freak, it's been like, two days.”

“Three, I'll have you know.”

“Oh, because that makes such a huge difference.”

“Long three days, Red.”

“Yeah,” she agrees with a heavy sigh.

Neither of us has anything to say for a little while, but that's never bothered us before. I'm sure as hell not going to say this out loud and get my head bitten off again, but one of my favorite things about her is how comfortable it is to shut up and just… be with her. I can't explain it, and I've definitely never felt that way around any of my other girlfriends, or… well, shit, she's not my girlfriend… I don’t know what she is, but, uh, other girls I've… or people I’ve felt so…

“Were you really a Boy Scout?”

“Child, you cut me to the quick! I’m offended that you don’t believe me.”

“I just can't believe I never knew that! How long did you do it for?”

“Oh, Jesus, I washed out after Cub Scouts. When my troop got to the Webelos stage, it all started seeming kinda fascist.”

“Excuse me, weeb-what now's?”

“Webelos? 'We'll be loyal scouts’?”

“Eeeesh. I see why you ditched.”

“Yeah. Plus, I was an artsy fartsy little kid, uniforms weren't really my style. The only bright side is, it does get kids out into nature a lot and teach them about stewardship.”

“Aww, there's my treehugger.”

I have to chew my tongue to avoid saying anything stupid about how I'll be whatever she wants as long as she keeps calling me hers. “What about you? Did you do the whole scouting thing? Sash, knee socks, cookie sales?”

“I may have failed to impress upon you how backwoods my upbringing really was, Stone. Who would I sell cookies to? The crawdads in the creek behind our house?”

“Crawdads? I'm going to assume this is hillbilly speak for crawfish?” My laughter conflicts with the overwhelming need to sniffle, and I end up choking on my own cough.

“Karma’s a bitch, snot otter.”

“...wh…”

She chuckles. “Snot otter. It's what we grew up calling a particular kind of salamander. But I think it pulls double duty, in your case.”

“I don't know whether I'm flattered or revolted.”

“Definitely revolted. Their other name is hellbender, and they can grow to be like two foot long. They're disgusting. In kind of a beautiful way, though. But it’s sorta sad... a lot of people have misconceptions that they’re poisonous or that they eat trout eggs or whatever, so people kill ‘em all the time. But it’s awful for the species because they’re super sensitive to environmental changes, pollution, people fucking up their habitats, shit like that… not where I grew up, though. Our place basically backed up to the park, so they were pretty easy to find.”

She’d never admit it, but her accent thickens ever so slightly when she talks about growing up. And I’d never admit it, but it’s incredibly hot.

“This is a pretty idyllic image you’re painting, here, Red. I’m picturing you and Patch, two dirty-faced feral rugrats hunting for salamanders out in the hollers.”

“Pretty much, yeah. Not a lot of supervision.”

“Which park?”

“Great Smoky Mountains.”

“Whoa, cool. I’ve never been.”

“Yeah, but you’re spoiled, growing up out here with these huge, violent mountains. You’d probably think mine are pretty boring.”

“Fat chance. Let’s go sometime.”

“Oh, sure, yeah, just let me get my coat.”

“I mean it. I don’t know, in the highly likely scenario that the band takes off and we actually get to go around the country, you should take me there.”

She snorts. “Long as we steer clear of Beaverdam, you got a deal.”

“Be… beaver dam?”

“Alright, yes, that’s the name of my hometown, laugh it up, Gossard.”

“Beaverdam! Jesus Christ, your childhood’s a comedic goldmine, how come you never --” my hysterical laughter does battle with the gunk in my chest and loses, and the resulting sound effect makes Cora startle.

“Ugh, loveyou.”

“Huh, what’d you say?” I manage to wheeze out, my laughter stopping abruptly.

“Lovely!” she squeaks. “I said, ‘lovely!’ The fucking sounds you’re making, uh, they’re just lovely…”

“Riiight,” I mumble, dangerously close to invalidating our ceasefire. “What else should I know about your childhood? Any other gems?”

“Nuh-uh, it’s your turn, I’ve already said too much.”

“I’m an open book, what do you want to know?”

“Hmm. Something really embarrassing. Your first kiss?”

“Starting out with the first kiss? You don’t mess around, huh?”

“Hey, you already know about mine, we’re on an uneven battlefield.”

“True, true. Okay, well, I was 12…”

“Early bloomer!”

“By your standards, everyone’s an early bloomer. Anyway,” I breeze on past her muttered “rude” and continue with my voluntary humiliation in the name of love, “your embarrassment radar’s right on target, it was an icebreaker party at the start of 7th grade. And this one girl, Evie, she took the whole icebreaker concept to heart. Dragged me into a closet for an awkward makeout session. I was totally terrified, but definitely along for the ride. She stuck her tongue in my mouth, and I was so shocked I actually tripped and fell backward into a pile of coats. So obviously losing my balance and falling on my ass when a pretty girl kisses me is a recurring theme.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she manages through her laughter.

“Right, right, the ceasefire. Okay, your turn… uh, favorite Halloween candy?”

“You’re a slow learner, Stone. Who was I gonna trick or treat from, the snot otters?”

“You poor, deprived child. You’ve got to have a favorite candy, though, you’re only human.”

“Well, yeah… M&Ms… but only if eaten correctly.”

“How does one eat M&Ms incorrectly?”

“Let me guess, you probably just scoop up handfuls and eat them indiscriminately, right? Uncultured swine. You have to eat them in the right order.”

“They… all taste the same, Cora, it’s just food coloring… Jesus, you actually eat them in an order?”

My curiosity and horror is enough to make me sit up in bed. Also, being vertical helps with the inevitable oncoming coughing fit as she unpacks whatever ridiculousness led her to this compulsion.

“I swear they taste different!”

“You’re insane! Wait, what's the order?”

“Light to dark, obviously. Yellow, orange, green, red, light brown, dark brown.”

“Okay, (a), in no universe is that light to dark, you need to get your eyesight checked. And (b), like, what happens if you get a bag of M&Ms at the movies and you can’t see what color you’re eating??”

“That’s why only amateurs order M&Ms at the movies, Stone. I’m a Whoppers girl.”

“Wrong again! You get popcorn at the movies, idiot. Jesus, I never realized you were so damaged. What is your childhood trauma? Who hurt you, baby?”

We go back and forth like this for what feels like hours, trading blows and sharing silly, insignificant details of our lives, and it’s almost like nothing had ever happened between us. Almost. I’m still in this bed, trying not to think too much about how good it felt to have her wrapped around me under these covers just a few nights ago, trying not to think about every little curve of her body and how obscenely good she looked in my ratty old clothes, how badly I want her to come over so we can finally hash our shit out and admit to one another that we need to give this thing a try for real. And another secret truth of my life surfaces, one that she doesn’t need to hear about tonight when we’re still on such thin ice: that being sick with a cold or the flu always, always brings with it the rather odd side effect of being more easily aroused. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s boredom from being at home too much, or wanting to be taken care of during a time of vulnerability, or whatever, but suddenly every thought of Cora, and her every word, however mundane, is making me feel extra amorous. Luckily, our conversation hit a bit of a lull as we ran out of facts to trade. Now she’s tried to multitask and work on her homework, which gives me the opportunity to shift around in bed and try to force my body out of caveman mode. Until she speaks again.

“You know what’s really hard?”

Shit! How did she…! God, calm yourself, you dirtbag, there’s no way she’s talking about you, get your mind out of the gutter. “...uh, what’s that?”

“The oceanic carbon cycle. I give up. I’m too stupid to science.”

“Oh, yeah, that.” I clear my throat and take a mental cold shower. “Well, I don’t know anything about it, but I know you’re not stupid. It’s just really late, your brain's protesting the working conditions.”

“I should probably let you get some rest, huh?”

“Nah, you’re fine, I basically slept all day, I could keep going with you all night.” What. the fuck. is wrong. with me. “Talking, I mean… obviously… talking all night...”

“And I’m obviously not being productive over here. Ha, maybe I should just come over, we could waste time together --”

“Yes.” I slap my forehead after cutting her off mid-word. Smooth.

“Whoa, hey there, quickdraw,” she chuckles. Okayyy, maybe I’m not the only one with my mind in the gutter…

“I promise, that’s not a recurring theme.”

“Gross, Stone,” but she’s still laughing, “do you really want me to come over?”

Yes. “I mean, no, I know it’s late, it’s a school night, and I don’t want you coming down with whatever disease this is.”

“You’re probably right. Alex will probably be back soon anyway.”

Well good news, I’ve officially found the world’s most effective boner-killer, it’s hearing the girl of your dreams talk about her boyfriend.

“Right. Hey, at the risk of endangering the ceasefire, uhm, how’s… how’s all that going?”

“Alex?” I can hear the scowl. “Uhm. Truthfully?”

“Of course.”

“Been better. A lot better, actually.”

“Really. Care to elaborate?”

“I'm not sure how much elaboration the topic deserves. How much can I really milk out of, 'I'm trying to find the right time to tell my only boyfriend ever that I want to break up’?”

It’s a struggle to keep my voice casual even though it feels an octave higher. “Huh… break up, huh?”

“Yup. I've known it's the right thing to do for a while, I guess, even before our whole… you know…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Anyway, I'm chickenshit, I have no idea what I'm doing. How does one even initiate a conversation like that?”

“Is that a rhetorical question or are you asking for advice? Just checking before I accidentally step on a landmine…”

“No, I'm really asking. You had to break up with at least a few of that long string of girlfriends, right?”

“That's right.”

“What's it like?”

“Uhm, it really depends on the person, on the relationship. Sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's liberating.”

“But… like… how? Sorry, I know I'm embarrassingly stupid on the topic, I just…”

“Nah, you're not stupid, it's your first break-up. Everybody has it sooner or later. I don't know, though. I've always been able to turn on the Spock side of my brain when I need to have a hard conversation with someone, you know, remove the emotion from the situation and just help them see what's going on, that it's nothing personal and that the person is still important to you, but that it's just not working for either of you anymore. That sometimes it's just better for everyone if you part as friends.”

“Wow… can I hire you to break up with Alex for me?”

“And deprive you of this important developmental milestone? Nah. You got this.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, although I'm pretty sure it's misplaced. There's literally no such thing as the right time to have that conversation.”

“No, of course not. And in your defense, I’ve never dumped someone after being with them for so long. Five years is a really long time.”

“Thanks, Stone, helpful,” she jeers.

“That’s what I’m here for. Just don't… don't put it off forever. Like you said, it's never going to feel 'right,’ but the longer you wait to actually break up with someone, the more you just simmer in your bad feelings, and the more resentful and emotional you get about it.”

That, and the sooner you can move on to someone new who actually cares about your happiness, although I keep that thought-grenade to myself.

“Thanks, Stone.”

“Don't mention it.”

“Well, I've made this conversation sufficiently weird, and I feel about as good as day-old roadkill, so I think it's time to make my exit. Anyway, you do need to get some sleep, no matter what you say.”

Roadkill, huh? Hope she's not getting the same bug I have. “It was good to talk to you, Cora. I miss this.”

“Don't tell anyone, but me too.”

“Our secret. Goodnight.”

“Night, Stoner.”

It takes a long time staring up into space after we’ve hung up for me to process what just happened. Our slow thaw, the precarious ceasefire, her slip of the tongue, breaking up with Cletus… just when I think I have her figured out, she confuses the shit out of me all over again, and I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of it. Feeling both exhausted and hopeful, I settle myself under the covers and hug my spare pillow to my chest, fading fast.

***

Monday, November 5th, 1990

“Cora, table 6 looks ready for the check, are you alive over there or what?”

Colleen shoots me a nasty sideways glance as she edges behind where I'm leaning on my elbows on the bar. Ugh. Easy for her to be a colossal bitch about it, she doesn't know I feel so fucking weak that I almost fainted in lab this afternoon and that I can barely stay upright during my shift. And why's it so cold in this fucking restaurant all of a sudden? Yeah, I'll get those drunk fuckers their check, if you turn up the fucking heat… ordinarily, I’d be pining for my shift to end so I can go home and sleep off whatever this ridiculous exhaustion is, except that I swore to myself that tonight’s the night I’d finally rip off the bandaid and break up with Alex. And I’m in no huge hurry to have that conversation, no matter how simple Stone made it sound.

Just as I've wrapped up the table, the door chime signals a new customer, and I'm about to start a fresh internal tirade of self-pity when I recognize a familiar face under the black hat, sunglasses, and curtains of dark hair. My bad mood evaporates.

“Cready!”

“Hey, Cora, what's up?”

“My temper, so thanks for being the first non-idiot customer I've had all shift long.”

“No promises,” he gives me his usual affable grin. “Can I trouble you for a beer?”

“You got it. Anything for dinner? You look pretty wiped out.”

“Yeah, look who’s talking,” he air-traces what are probably vicious dark circles on my face.

“Okay, okay, so we both look like a hundred bucks,” I grin. “Whatcha having?”

“You guys still doing breakfast? I need pancakes.”

“Mike, it’s like 8:30 at night.”

“The heart wants what it wants,” he pouts, making me shield my eyes from the kitteny cuteness.

“Okay, alright, put the big guns away. I know a guy in the back.”

“You’re a very pale angel.”

“You’re a very hungover idiot.”

The crowd’s thinned out, which gives me a chance to socialize with Mike for a while without incurring more hassling from Colleen. It’s nice, just getting to catch up with him without the entire Mookie herd, even when he looks like he’s about to drop dead.

“So what’s got you so tired, dude?”

“Selene,” he pronounces around a mouthful of illicit pancake.

I try to wolf-whistle, but I’ve always sucked at whistling. “So someone had a good weekend.”

“I’m a shell of my former self. Write something nice on my headstone, this woman’s killing me.”

“Do I detect a complaint?”

“Not in the slightest. She’s nuts, she knocks on my door at the craziest hours, I never know when she’s gonna show up, and it’s always a little like...” he mimes an explosion with his hands, making the accompanying bomb noise, “warfare.”

“Wow, hey, I’m good with the PG-13 version, okay?”

With a sly grin, he asks, “speaking of warfare, how’s shit with you and Stone?”

I shift my weight to my other hip, narrowing my eyes. “We’re pretty much the same. We called a temporary truce while he’s sick as a dog. Didn’t seem fair.”

“Yeah, well, you guys need to hurry up and figure your shit out, the whole world feels wobbly when you fight.”

I reach over the counter to lightly chuck his chin. “Aww, don’t worry, Sport, it’s not your fault, and we both still love you very much and we promise to take you to Disneyworld on Saturdays, okay?”

But Mike’s undeterred. “Seriously, Cora, you guys are ridiculous. I know he pissed you off somehow, he pisses everyone off, but whatever he did, you know his heart was in the right place. Can’t fault a guy for being good-hearted and wrong.”

“Yeah… okay.” In bemused silence, I watch him inhale the last scraps of his pancake and swig the rest of his beer, clap too much money on the table, and unsteadily get to his feet.

“Be good, okay?” he calls over his shoulder, waving on his way out the door. What a deeply weird, troubling, sweet individual.

Colleen sneaks up on me again as I’m wiping the counter after clearing Mike’s dishes, making me jump back from her beady stare and the chubby finger she’s got aimed at my nose.

“You… you look like absolute hell. You getting sick?”

“Uhm, no, I think it’s just been a long day, and…”

“Yeah, okay, and the pope doesn’t shit in his hat.”

“...is that a saying?”

“You’re all clammy and sweaty. Get the hell out of my restaurant before you get us shut down for health code violations.”

“Are you firing me?”

Colleen rolls her eyes just before she turns her back to me on her way to the kitchen. “No, you tiny little fool, you’re my best waitress, just go sleep it off. Somewhere else!”

I stand with my feet glued to the floor and my shoulders in a slump, working hard to summon the energy needed to collect my things and walk home. Maybe she’s right, maybe I am coming down with something… oh, fuck, it better not be whatever Stone had… oh, I’ll kill him if I survive this…

Sure enough, I’m barely able to drag my way up the stairs to the fourth floor, and I’m feeling feverish and nauseous by the time I push the door open. And that’s before I hear the sounds. Coming from the bathroom. Either I’ve progressed to full-on hallucinations, or those are the unmistakable sounds of two people having loud sex in the shower. Blinking, dazed, out-of-body, someone who looks like me but definitely isn’t me marches to the kitchen and turns the dishwasher on. Hot.

The girl who isn’t me stands here in my boots, impassively absorbing the panicked yelps coming from the now-freezing people under the showerhead. I wish this girl who isn’t me would move, would go somewhere else, would cover her eyes, would do anything other than witness what’s happening: Alex, clambering out of the bathroom in a towel, and an unfamiliar blonde woman hastily tugging on her dress over her soaking body. She’s taller than me. And thinner. Bigger boobs. I wish I didn’t know any of this.

“Cora! Wha… you’re early, I thought your shift was done at 11!” Alex glances at the clock, the whites of his eyes showing as he struggles to wrap the towel in place. Suddenly, the girl who isn’t me vacates my body, and I find my own voice. And despite my aching throat, it’s loud.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to come back later when you’re finished???”

“No, fuck, no, I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were… I can explain, this is --”

My head starts to pound. I don’t need the explanation. “I don’t care.”

“-- Cindy, uh, she’s --”

“Hey, Cindy,” I wave acidly to the woman who’s yanking on one of her high-heeled boots and straightening her dress, as if there’s any dignity left to be had for any of us.

“-- babe, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, it’s just…”

“Find out??” I repeat. “How… how long have you…”

“Alex, who the FUCK is this?” Oh. Cindy speaks. How nice. She sounds like a dog’s squeeze toy.

“I was his girlfriend, until about three minutes ago,” I answer her, while keeping my stare fixed on the man I thought I knew, who’s staring back at me in desperation so exaggerated it belongs in a cartoon. “I live here. He doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Babe, no, calm down, we can fix this, we --”

But Cindy does the heavy lifting for me, shrieking like a dental drill. “You have a GIRLFRIEND? Have you been with her the whole time?” Please don’t tell me how long the whole time was. Please don’t tell me how long the whole time was. But she shrieks on, “all fucking year?? You BASTARD!”

Her other boot flies through the air and clocks Alex on the shoulder. He shoots a frenzied glance from Cindy to me and back again, as if he expects quarter from either of us, stammering madly.

“I -- I meant to tell you, I --” Jesus, he doesn’t even know which of us to apologize to first. My fever’s raging and I’ve seen enough. I need this goddamn circus out of my house. I close my eyes and say the only words that remain to be said.

“I need you to go.”

“My fucking pleasure,” Cindy collects her boot and crookedly flounces out of my apartment and slams the door behind her, and even with my eyes shut tight, I know that Alex is still here, staring pleadingly at me. I force myself to look at him.

“You too. Just go. Stay somewhere else. You can get your things tomorrow,” I explain calmly, like he’s a survivor of a flood or a house fire.

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go, exactly??” he shouts, waving his hands in panic and almost losing the towel.

“Go to Brian’s,” I sigh with boredom, “you’ve practically been living there all year anyway, what difference should one more night make.”

“I… I can’t.” He swallows hard.

That’s it, my temper’s finally back. “And why the fuck not?”

“Uhm, Cindy’s his… she’s his fiancée.”

“Perfect. Just perfect. I don’t care where the fuck you go, you’re not staying here.”

Feeling suddenly faint, I ease myself down to the couch and clench my teeth as I wrap the afghan around my shoulders.

“Christ, babe, you look awful, are you coming down with something? Don’t kick me out, let me stay, let me help you…” he inches closer, but my glare and final word stops him.

“Out.”

His face contracts, he nods, he slinks back to what used to be our bedroom to put on some clothing and pack a spare overnight bag. Without another word or another attempt at eye contact, he scuttles out. The breeze from the door closing sends me into an uncontrollable shiver, the only sign of life left in the apartment.