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themoonandotherslikeit · 5 years

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Something More Than What I Had- Part Two

Part Two - Deuteronomy

“See, I have taught you decrees and laws as the LORD my God commanded me, so that you may follow them in the land you are entering to take possession of it.” Deuteronomy 4:5

Two Months Later

Castiel ducked under the yellow crime scene tape, while Sam stepped over it. Due to his sheer stature, ducking under the tape often looked like he was limboing on stilts. Since Crowley had walked out of the precinct eight weeks before, the partners’ relationship was strained at best. They’d been virtually silent when not directly working on cases, and the kid was all too compliant when Castiel suggested that he should take back seat on the cases following Crowley’s. More than ever, he did not trust the rookie’s judgement.

“What do we have, Eileen?” Castiel asked eyeing the crime scene tech.

“It’s a weird one,” she said out loud, her hands busy with her swabs and plastic evidence bags from her forensics kit.

Sam tapped her shoulder so she would look at him. How, he signed.

Eileen raised an eyebrow with a faint smile, turning away from him. “See for yourself.” The two detectives followed her lead to the middle of the crime scene. The closer they got the more that Castiel could smell it. The smell of burning. He reached up and covered his nose with the sleeve of his button up shirt. “Be careful where you step,” she said, gesturing to the ground. There were large, long patches of grass that were burned away now just black piles of ash.

“What is this?” Castiel asked to no one in particular, as he squatted down next to the ground. He didn’t smell gasoline, or any kind of excelerant, but yet the burns were defined. They looked intentional, almost like an art installation.

“Male, mid fifties.”

“Holy shit,” Sam said, his voice was hollow, but Castiel barely noticed as he squinted to further examine the grass. “Novak.”

“What, Rookie?” Castiel asked, annoyed as his concentration broke. He turned his head and found the kid standing at the head of a body next to Eileen, who was gesturing to the victim. The burn marks went all the way up to the corpse, underneath him, and out the other side as far as he could tell from his vantage point.

The kid’s eyes were locked on the victim. He looked like he’d seen a damn ghost. “Do you need me to hold your hand?” Cas asked as he stood up, shaking his head. At some point it had to be sink or swim and with how short his patience was lately, Castiel figured that time was quickly approaching for his young partner.

“No, it’s just… the vic. You recognize him?”

He rolled his eyes. What? Was it some celebrity? Surely the Captain would’ve told them if it was someone worth getting excited over. Castiel walked toward the kid to get a better look at the victim. When he got closer, he was able to make out more details. The expensive, pressed suit, red pocket square that perfectly matched his necktie, dark full beard against olive skin, but Castiel didn’t get a sinking feeling until his eyes rested on the victims hand that rested on his chest. The sun glinted off a gold ring on his finger. “Fuck.”

“What?” Eileen asked, looking between the two. What? She signed to Sam.

“It’s Crowley,” he said out loud, fingerspelling the name to Eileen. “He’s one of our perps, but he walked. From the prostitute case.”

Eileen raised her eyebrows, grinning as the kid successfully signed prostitute.

“What do you make of the burn marks?” He asked, gesturing to the ash. He didn’t get an answer, before the rookie grabbed ahold of Cas’ arm and lead him backwards. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just trust me, okay?” The kid grumbled, climbing up on the hood of Castiel’s squad car.

“Kid, get down!”

“Castiel!” Sam snapped, pointing at the spot next to him where he stood.

He groaned, shaking his head. Fucking kids, but he took Sam’s hand nonetheless and let himself be pulled onto the hood of the car. “Now what? Singer isn’t going to appreciate us climbing all over police sanctioned vehicles for kicks…” And then he saw it, and his jaw fell open. The burn marks came out from Crowley’s back, they were sixteen feet in length at least. “Are those… Christ, are those wings?”

He turned to Sam, who nodded in return. “I thought the markings along the edge facing his feet looked like feathers.”

“It’s ritualistic. I wonder if he was into more dark things than we thought,” Castiel agreed, staring completely dumbfounded at the scene in front of him. He’d never seen anything like it, not even in books. How did the perp get away with it? It had to take time, precision. As sick as it made him feel, he was a little impressed.

“Has to be. This isn’t a crime of passion,” Sam said, getting down from the hood of the car. Cas followed suit, and they walked back to examine the body closer. “This was planned.”

“Meticulously,” Castiel said, squinting. He crouched back down by the body to get a better look. It looked like there had been minimal struggle. He turned to Eileen. “What was the time of death?”

“Based on the scene,” she began, “it’s hard to tell. He was moved here, and killed somewhere else.”

He nodded, his eyes scanning Crowley’s coat, stopping at the disturbed pocket square. “There’s something in his pocket.” He pulled a rubber glove out of his pocket and slid it onto his hand, to keep the evidence intact. The sky was growing darker by the moment, a storm rolling in. A chill ran up the back of Castiel’s neck as he pulled out a folded piece of paper that was carefully tucked behind the pocket square.

“What is it?” The rookie asked.

Castiel squinted as he carefully unfolded the page. The paper was thin and the print small, but a passage was circled in red ink. “The Lord is my light and my salvation- whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life - of whom shall I be afraid? Psalm 27:1,” Castiel read out loud.

“It’s a Bible verse?”

Castiel nodded, standing to show Sam. “But that isn’t the alarming part,” he said slowly before pointing to the scrawl in red pen that read: ME.

Later that night

“It was seriously fucked up, Dean. No wonder Novak never sleeps! It wasn’t just the stab wound, though. I’ve seen a murder victim before. It was the rest of it.”

Dean laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He tossed an old hacky sack up in the air and caught it. He was bored out of his fucking mind. He needed to get a writing job sooner rather than later, before he turned into one of those guys who spent Friday night on the couch in pants with an elastic waistband, a bowl of popcorn, and a blow up doll that was still too tired to fuck him.

He sat up and tossed the ball into the trash. Complacency be gone! “Rest of it?” Dean asked, distracted. Sam poked his head into Dean’s bedroom, his hair up in one of those god awful man buns that made Dean a little sick to his stomach. “Fucking really, Pebbles?”

Sam exhaled out of his nose in a huff. “Shut up.”

“Need me to sleep with you tonight so you won’t get nightmares about the big bad murderer who is killing bad guys, or is Bambam going to protect you?”

“You’re such an ass,” he complained, walking back out of the bedroom.

Dean snorted and hopped out of bed, following his younger brother. “Sam, Sam, hey. I’m sorry.” He held up his hands in surrender.

“You done?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m done.”

His brother searched his eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to detect a lie. Once he was clearly satisfied, he continued. “He was moved to the scene, so it was intended for him to be found, and he had these burn marks.”

“On his body? Like the brand? That’d be some divine intervention.”

“No, not like that. It was on the ground next to his body. It almost… hell, they looked like giant wings that were burnt out in the grass.”

Dean scratched his jaw and looked at his brother. He could’ve been ten years old again. They’ve drank together, and Dean took him to the strip club for his eighteenth birthday, but Sammy was still his baby brother. At the end of the day he’d do anything for him, no matter how much he teased. “You were so fucked up a month ago about him gettin’ away.”

“I was,” he agreed with a sigh. “I just… It shouldn’t have been this way.”

“The guy is dead, Sammy. He can’t hurt anyone else. Doesn’t matter which way it happened. You’re really tellin’ me this isn’t a win?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Sam said cautiously with a heavy sigh, leaning his body against the wall next to the bathroom door.

“Why?” Dean crossed his arms and looked up at his brother. “Seems like good riddance to me. Ain’t nothin’ worth beatin’ yourself up about.”

“Maybe… I don’t know.” Sam walked back into the bathroom, shutting the door. “We swapped one bad guy for another, you know?”

“Right, but this guy kills other killers. Crowley kidnapped and murdered teenagers.”

“The law doesn’t really work that way,” Sam laughed dryly, opening back up the door and stepping out in his pajama pants. “A vigilante is still a criminal.”

Dean frowned at him and followed him into the kitchen. “So you’re saying Batman is a criminal?”

“Batman is a comic book character, Dean.” He reached up and pulled out a jar of peanut butter from the cabinet.

“He has movies, too,” he grumbled in response.

“But yes, for all intensive purposes, Batman would be a criminal. Good doesn’t just cancel out the bad, and bad definitely doesn’t cancel out more bad,” Sam said while he spread peanut butter on a slice of bread.

He watched Sam’s wrist paint the peanut butter on both slices just like Dean taught him when they were kids, and his chest squeezed. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”

His baby brother offered him a small smile and a nod. “Yeah, I think I know that. Learned it from you.”

“Hey,” Dean said dismissively. “No chick flick moments, okay?”

“Right.”

“Give me that.” He took the knife from Sam. “You’re not doing enough peanut butter. This is going to be a dry ass sandwich.” He scooped another dollop of peanut butter onto the bread and pushed it out evenly. “Want crust?”

“Crust is good for you.”

Dean shoved the knife back into the jar and put his hands on his hips, staring at his brother. “Jesus, Sam. Out of everythin’ you’ve gotten from me, and you still don’t get it? Food is good. It tastes fuckin’ delicious. It ain’t about bein’ healthy. How much beer and pie do you think are on that weird ass pyramid? Not enough is the answer you’re lookin’ for!” He shook his head, plucking the knife out of the jar, licking peanut butter off the blade before pressing it into the bread to cut off the crust.

“Thanks,” Sam said, smiling a bit as he took half the sandwich from his brother.

“Welcome.” The brothers pressed the sandwiches together in a cheers motion. “So, uh, how’s Novak handlin’ the case? Got his perfect panties in a bunch?” Dean asked before shoving part of the sandwich in his mouth to keep him from saying too much.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “He’s surprisingly unaffected.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

“Why do you care?” Sam asked, plopping the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, some peanut butter on the corner of his mouth. Dean instinctively reached forward and wiped it off Sam’s mouth with his sleeve, like he used to when they were kids. His younger brother batted his hand away.

“I don’t care.”

“Okay, sure,” Sam snorted, unconvinced. He reached into the fridge and grabbed a beer, twisting of the cap, and leaned up against the counter, taking a swig.

“So any news on that cute lab tech?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows, redirecting the conversation far away from the stern detective with his sparkling blue eyes. “Eileen?”

“She isn’t a lab tech,” Sam complained, walking into the living room and settling onto the couch. “What about her?”

“You ask her out yet?”

“I’m there to work, Dean. You know, solve cases, catch murderers. Not socialize.”

“Well you’re doing a shit job, kid. There’s a murder you need to solve and nothin’ has gotten done about it.”

“What murder?” Sam asked, squinting his eyes skeptically.

“The murder of your goddamn social life.” Dean laughed, tossing the pillow from the armrest at his brothers head, barely missing his beer by an inch. “It’s Friday night for god sakes and you’re eating a peanut butter sandwich in flannel pajama pants.” All he needs is the blow up doll! “It’s fuckin’ pitiful.”

“Shut the fuck up. It’s my night off, and I’m gonna watch Game of Thrones. What are you doing tonight?”

“Not that.” Dean rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Come out with me. You can watch your nerd show later.”

“This is the highest rated show on television right now, Dean.”

“Hey, are you sure that Eileen is deaf? She may just be fuckin’ with you so she doesn’t have to listen to a grown ass man talk about dragons.”

Sam clicked on the television, shooting Dean a sideways glance. “You’re suck a dick.”

“I’m just kiddin’, kid.” He leaned in and ruffled his brothers hair, pulling the elastic tie, releasing his hair from the bun.

“Seriously?”

“I’ll be back late, don’t wait up.” Dean slid into his leather jacket, laughing like he was so goddamn proud of himself, because he was. “I’m going for a stiff one.” He smirked. “And maybe a drink.”

“Wear a condom!” Sam shouted, tossing a pillow at him from the couch. Dean dodged effortlessly, laughing as he shut the door behind him. He jogged down the stairs and out into the cool evening. He pulled his jacket together to keep the elements from invading.

It was rainy season in the city. Women struggled with umbrellas to keep their hair and expensive wardrobes in tact, but nothing stopped the puddles from invading their fake Prada shoes. Dean didn’t mind the rain. It cleared him of his sins and sometimes it just felt good to be in the moment without any kind of veil. Sometimes he just wanted to be.

The Winchester brothers lived close to the precinct, so Dean shouldn’t have been surprised when he entered a bar full of police officers. He shook the rain out of his hair and wiped his feet on the mat by the door. He instinctively scanned the bar for a place to sit and someone to buy a drink for when his eyes landed on a pair of slumped shoulders. Messy dark hair against a gray button up with the sleeves pushed up. Dean more often than not dated women. He was more experienced in that department, and that kept him in a place of emotional safety. Stay in your lane, he’d remind himself, but that never stopped him from flirting. It never stopped him from looking either and as he eyed the tired, disheveled man in front of him he wondered if maybe his lane could widen a little, just once.

Dean put on his best stride to approach the bar, already digging his wallet out to offer to buy the guy a drink when the man at the bar turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder. His blue eyes caught a neon sign, causing them to glow brilliantly in the low light from the bar. “Well tickle my pickle, is that you, Detective?” Dean asked with a large grin as he approached Castiel at the bar rail. He hadn’t known it was the detective at first, but the happy surprise left his stomach in knots, twisting into itself. Guess he couldn’t shake Cas as easily as he originally anticipated.

“Did I do something in a past life to warrant this terrible karma?” The detective asked, turning to see Dean and meeting him with a squint.

“Aw, terrible, really? Let me buy you a drink. It’ll bring your karma around.” Dean grinned, sitting down on the barstool next to Castiel, and holding out the cash that he’d already fished from his wallet.

“No, thank you.”

“I’ll take a scotch, neat,” Dean said offering the bartender a smile, before turning toward Castiel. The detective had a world of weight on his shoulders. It looked like he would collapse into himself at a moment's notice. So Dean offered a soft spoken olive branch. “Sammy told me about Crowley.”

“He shouldn’t have,” Novak said, taking a sip from his own glass. “It’s still an open investigation.”

“He can’t hurt anyone else. That’s a win,” Dean said gently. “Right?”

“It’s complicated,” the detective said dismissively, his eyes somewhere else.

“So I’ve heard.” He took the glass from the bartender and welcomed the warmth down his throat.

“Hey nerds. Sorry, the bathroom line was ungodly. I ended up peeing in the men’s,” a woman’s voice said from behind them. Dean turned to catch a redhead with a large grin, and a beer in her hand. She wore a bright pink tank top that was tied off at her waist. It had a unicorn on it. She was pretty, and fuck he was jealous.

“Shit.” Dean’s heart sank into his stomach, sending him swerving back into his own lane like he was avoiding a deer on the highway. “Sorry Cas, I didn’t know you were on a date.”

“With me?” The woman laughed shaking her head. “No offense, Sweetie, but hell no.”

“Ouch,” Castiel feigned hurt, holding his chest dramatically, and Dean had to look at Castiel and then look again. He was playing up the drama? He was playing? Maybe he was happier with Crowley dead than what Sam had originally suggested. Maybe wound up tightly wasn’t his normal resting state, after all.

“I’m single as a Pringle. Fly by the wind and all that.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Who are you?”

“Dean Winchester.” He offered his hand out to her like a total dork. He stared at his own extended hand like, what? Is this a business meeting?

“Winchester? Like Sam?”

“His big brother,” Dean said with a proud smile, the knots in his stomach untangling at the brush of their fingers. She shook his hand with an impressive grip, and he could hear Castiel snort next to him. Dean glanced at the detective to catch him muffling a laugh. Holy fuck, he’s laughing! If he was being honest, Dean didn’t think that was possible, but damn he was cute when he smiled.

“Color me surprised,” she grinned widely, letting go of his hand. “I’m Charlie Bradbury. I work at the precinct with your brother and Cranky here.” Charlie grabbed Castiel’s shoulder, shaking him slightly, invoking another smile.

Dean mirrored her smile. Seeing the detective loosen up a bit was giving him energy that pulsed through his veins like some kind of drug. “I thought I was the only one who called him that!”

“It’s a universal name.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my friend?” Castiel grumbled at her, looking back into his glass as if there was something written on the ice cubes.

“Aw, Cas. Don’t live up to your nickname! It’s Friday night. Just let loose. In fact, let’s dance,” Charlie pleaded, offering him a hand. She wiggled her fingers at him as an invitation. She was unbearably cute, and if Dean was being honest, he could see how she would be irresistible in the same way that a kitten was. Charlie had this bright bubbly personality, matched with her fiery red curls, and glow of general goodness that radiated off of her. She was the kind of person that attracted other people.

“I don’t dance,” the detective said flatly, his nose damn near buried in his drink.

“You do now,” Charlie insisted, grabbing his hand, and yanking him out to the dance floor. She pulled the stumbling detective behind her. With her small stature, Dean knew that Castiel could’ve prevented her from pulling him out to the dance floor if he really wanted to, but he let himself be pulled anyway.

Dean finished his glass, ordering another, as he watched Charlie dance around Castiel. She bumped into him, took his hand so he could spin her. He started off stiff, looking awkward as Charlie moved his hands for him. The more embarrassingly she danced, singing in his ear along with the music, the more Castiel laughed and loosened up.

He’s got a kryptonite after all.

He watched Charlie imitate a shopping trip, miming grabbing items off the shelf and putting them in her shopping cart, while rolling her hips dramatically. She was teaching a line dance to Castiel when her eyes caught Dean’s. He laughed, shooting her a thumbs up, and took a swig from his glass. Charlie narrowed her eyes on Dean and danced over to him, leaving Castiel alone, looking unbelievably relieved. “Okay, Dean, lets go. Nobody likes a lurker.” She wiggled her fingers at him, encouraging him to join the dumpster fire that was the two of them dancing.

“You want me to dance?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“No, I’m asking you to blow up the Death Star. Yes I’m asking you to dance!”

Fuck, she’s cool. He shrugged. Watching the detective dance was a sight, but dancing with him was something else altogether. Something that he was dying to try out for himself. “Sure thing, Leia.” He finished his drink, took her hand, and let her pull him to where Castiel was standing alone.

“Detective.” He winked at Castiel and shimmied toward him, moving his shoulders, and reaching his arms like he was going to pull the detective to him. Cas turned his nose away from Dean like he didn’t notice the impossibly loud dance moves.

Dean frowned and turned to Charlie, taking her hand and spinning her in circles. “Dean I’m dizzy!” She laughed, letting go of his hand.

He glanced again at Cas. How could a man be so damn beautiful, but also be so awkward? The detective looked awkward in his own skin, tugging on a stray thread on his suspenders, his eyes trying to look anywhere but in Dean’s direction, or at least that’s what it seemed like to Dean. When Cas finally looked at him, Dean attempted to lasso him with an invisible rope, grinning widely. He was met with a hard, unimpressed stare, and Dean let his arms fall to his sides before closing the space between himself and Castiel. “Come on, don’t be a square,” he teased, shouting over the music. “You know you like it! You don’t have to fight it, Detective, you’re not on the clock!”

“I most certainly do not love it,” Novak said sharply. He was stiff as a board, standing so tightly in place that Dean worried he might pull something, or that his pretty face might get permanently stuck in a stoney scowl. All he wanted to do was reach out, touch the skin on Cas’ cheek, and blend into him. He wanted to understand him, but more than anything he wanted to kiss that annoyed scowl right off his face.

“Cranky,” Charlie and Dean said at the same time with a laugh, turning to high five each other.

“I am not cranky!” Castiel shouted with a huff. If he were in a cartoon, steam would be coming out of his ears.

“You are, man,” Dean said gently. “It’s fine. It’s just your personality. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

No person can be perfect. Gotta have one flaw, at least.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean before turning dramatically, walking back to the bar. He took a step after the detective, his hand out like he was reaching for him, but he stopped with a sigh.“Did I say the wrong thing?” He asked, turning to Charlie. “I don’t get him, but he’s Sammy’s partner so I want him to like me. Ya know?”

He watched the detective push through the crowd of people, his suspenders illuminated by the strobe light. He could tell, even from this far away, that Castiel held a lot of stress in his shoulders. He walked tightly, like he was fighting a leg cramp.

“Cas barely likes himself, Dean. I wouldn’t take it personally,” she said dismissively.

“He seems to like you.”

“Well, yeah. He’s human, of course he likes me,” Charlie laughed brightly, reaching out to touch his arm.

Dean snorted. She was confident, and he had a real thing for confident women. Confident, pretty, nerdy redheads. Charlie Bradbury was a dangerous combination of everything Dean looked for in a woman. “Touché.”

“We have history, you know? We’ve known each other since high school. I’d do anything for him. He’s my person.” She squeezed his bicep gently, and Dean nodded in response. He did know. Sam was his. “Here’s the thing about Cas, he doesn’t open up easily. He’s really guarded, protected, but if you stick around and fight for it, when he does open up… it’s just, wow. He’s got the prettiest heart, Dean. It’s like stained glass.”

He could picture it, then, Castiel’s chest opening up like cathedral doors, exposing a large stained glass portrait of his heart. It would glint and glow from the sun pouring through it, creating colorful warmth that’d bathe Dean when he stood under it. He’d feel warm, he’d feel whole.

“I am not cranky,” Castiel said, breaking the image in his mind, shattering the glass behind his eyes. He’d returned with a tray of shots in his hands, and Dean raised an eyebrow, his mind redirecting from the daydream to the real thing. “I’m not cranky, and I’m certainly not boring. You’ll see,” Castiel grumbled, meeting Dean’s eyes, before taking two of the six shots.

”Oh fuck yes!” Dean grinned and grabbed one from him, unable to resist the urge of seeing Castiel through an alcoholic lense. He clinked glasses with Charlie and they swallowed the shots together. “Guess we are in for an interesting night after all.”

After four rounds of shots Castiel proved that he indeed was not boring. Not that Dean needed any convincing. With every ounce of liquor it was harder and harder for him to pretend that everything that came out of Dean’s mouth wasn’t entertaining, despite being incredibly childish, and Dean was eating up every second of it. He was high on the sound of Cas’ laugh.

“Okay, okay, so.”

“Get on with it, Winchester.” Charlie giggled, sipping out of her Pina Colada. She’d finally given in two drinks ago stating, I don’t give a shit. I am a feminist, and I can drink a fucking flirty drink with an umbrella if I goddamn want to! “We don’t have all night.”

“Right,” Dean said, letting out a puff of air. His cheeks were warm and his head was swimming from alcohol. It was hard to focus, not taking into account the loud music pounding in the background, and Castiel’s thigh brushing his on the couch in the lounge area of the bar. It took everything in Dean not to just stare at it, the heat beneath the detective’s slacks burning a hole through his jeans. He cleared his throat, urging his leg to move away, but he pressed a little closer instead. “So, Sammy comes home the other night and starts digging around in the book shelves, and I’m like, bro what’re you lookin’ for? And he’s like, mind your fuckin’ business. That’s rude, right? Fuck, I’m his brother. Excuse me if I care. Anyway, he is looking for his old sign language books because he has a thing for your crime tech.”

“Eileen?” Charlie gasped, chewing on her cherry. “Oh my god, yes! I ship them!”

“You do what?” Cas narrowed his eyes at Charlie. One of his suspenders was slipping off his shoulder, like a girls dress strap. It felt like he was about to spill out, like Dean might get a chance to see the man behind the facade, but only if he was really looking closely.

“Ship, like relationship? Christ, Cas. You’re like an old man.” She rolled her eyes. “Hey, watch.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly for Charlie to do something. She just sat there, looking serious. Her eyebrows were knit together, and her lips twitched. Suddenly it occurred to him that maybe she was just as drunk as he was. Maybe she thought she could levitate or something. “Got it,” she murmured, sticking out her tongue.

“Holy shit.”

She had tied her cherry stem in a perfect knot. She stood up and bowed, handing Dean the knot. It was a short stem, and Dean was impressed, to say the least.

“Damn, woman. You’ve got some serious skills.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Bet you can put those to use.” He leaned forward a little instinctively, feeling an emptiness as Castiel’s thigh left his, but he’d denied every advance that Dean made. Maybe he was straight. Maybe Dean was just that bad at picking people.

“And I do,” she said smoothly. “But, Deano, I hate to break it to you, you’ll never find out first hand.” Charlie reached back for her drink, sticking her straw between her lips like a tease, making Dean suck his breath in.

“Aw.” He poked out his bottom lip in a pout. “Way to set fire to that fantasy. Is it my hair?” He touched the top of his head.

“No, sweetie. It’s your penis.” She eyed his pants, biting the straw as a sad attempt to hide her smile.

“You don’t know that my penis is no good! It’s good, I promise! I have references.” Dean may have been imagining it from all the alcohol, but he could’ve sworn that he heard Castiel suck in his breath.

“Oh my sweet summer child.” Charlie touched his hand. She was kind, letting him down easy. It was unlikely that the night would end with a drink in his face, and most of the time that was all that Dean could ask for when it came to sexual advances. “I like women.”

Deans eyebrows shot up. That was unexpected. Yup, my gaydar is shit. “My fantasy is officially reignited.” He laughed, squeezing her hand in his.

Charlie rolled her eyes, pulling her hand away from his. “Good lord. you’re such a guy.”

Dean turned his head to the detective, who was surprisingly quiet during the exchange. “Cas, can you tie a knot in a cherry stem with your tongue?” He asked, eyeing Castiel, leaning in to him. The temporary distraction that he’d gotten from Charlie had dissolved as quickly as it had begun, and he was hyper focused back on Cas.

“I don’t know.”

Dean grabbed a spare cherry stem from Charlie’s previous drink and plopped it into his mouth. He locked eyes with Castiel and worked his tongue along the cherry stem, twisting it in his mouth. Dean couldn’t tell if it was the buzz, the low lightning, or if he was really seeing it right, but he could’ve sworn he saw Cas swallow.

Once the knot was secure Dean stuck out his tongue, offering up the perfect knot. “I still got it.” He grinned and winked, his eyes still settled on Cas’ blue ones. “For you, Detective.” He handed Castiel the slobbery cherry stem, and to his surprise Castiel took it, curling his fist around it. His eyes never leaving Dean’s.

Three days later

“So,” Charlie said, leaning over Castiel’s desk.

“So, what?” He glared at Charlie over the steam from his cup of coffee. He was so fucking tired. After the night at the club he had spent the rest of the weekend alone mulling over the case and eating cold Ramen. He didn't make much progress, which added to his deep seeded annoyance.

“Dean.” She poked his cheek. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. Holy shit, he was so cute.”

“Please. He is a reckless child.” Plus, Castiel assumed by his flirtations with Charlie that he was straight, despite his earlier impression from Crossroads. He didn’t need to go down that road, no matter how boyishly handsome Dean was, and no matter how much disappointment settled into his chest when he thought about Dean’s freckled cheeks and striking green eyes. Feelings were a menace, and Castiel preferred not to have them when he could help it.

“Exactly, opposites attract.”

He rolled his eyes at that, taking a sip from his coffee. “I’m too busy for relationships.” Charlie should’ve known his situation better than anyone. He was too busy to find the keys to unlock the dozens of dead bolts locking his heart away within himself.

“I didn’t say marry him. Just like...” Her eyes glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention. “Just fuck him. You could use a release, Cranky.”

Heat rose up Castiel’s neck and into his face. “You can’t say things like that,” he hissed. His private life was private for a reason, and he’d be damned if he crossed a professional line at work.

“What? You are pent up.”

“Not that. You can’t be so explicit,” he whispered.

Charlie rolled her eyes and adjusted the butterfly clip in her hair. “Okay, right, sorry.” She huffed and leaned in closer, her eyes challenging him. “Just admit that you want to, and I’ll leave it alone.”

He narrowed his blue eyes at Charlie, begging her to shut the fuck up for once in her life. “What I want is irrelevant,” he decided. At the end of the day, she was still Charlie, and he couldn’t fake it with her.

“Well, that’s just not true.” She laughed. “Come on, just go for it. What is there to lose?”

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He was too damn tired. Where should he even start? “Well, he’s my partner’s brother, first of all.” He took another drink of his coffee.

“You talking about Dean?” Sam asked, walking up with a fresh coffee mug in his hand.

“What?” Castiel choked on his own coffee. It burned shooting down his windpipe and for a second he felt like he was drowning. Drowning and caught.

“I just heard you say ‘your partner’s brother’. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Sam said sheepishly. “Sorry, Dean’s such a pain. He really does feel bad about messing things up with Crowley...”

Castiel waved him off when he realized that Sam only caught the tail end of the conversation. “It’s in the past. Best we move on?”

Charlie snorted, and Sam raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. He will be happy to hear that you aren’t mad.”

“Why would he care if I was mad?” Castiel eyed him, his curiosity peaked. He placed his mug down on the desk, focusing on keeping his expression emotionless.

“Don’t know, but he asks about you every day. Probably just making sure he didn’t ruin things for me here.” Sam shrugged, putting his coffee back to his lips. “So, any new leads on the Crowley murder?”

“Nothing,” Castiel sighed, rubbing his face, Dean’s apple green eyes pushed to the back of his mind at the mention of the case.

Charlie reached forward and grabbed Cas’ coffee, taking a few eager gulps.

“Well, Dean keeps saying good riddance. So maybe we should just take it as a win.”

“Do you really believe that?” He asked, examining his partners muscles tensing in his forearms.

“Trying to,” Sam admitted, flexing his fingers, releasing the tension. “I figure it’s better than losing sleep over a scumbag.”

“Good point.” He stood up, stretching, letting his neck pop. He’d been sitting in that same damn chair for much too long. “Get back to work, Rookie. I may not have a lead, but maybe you can find something I’ve missed.” He turned his back to Sam to grab some additional papers from the filing cabinet next to his desk.

“Novak,” Sam cleared his throat, causing Castiel to glance over his shoulder. “I was wondering if you’d want to grab dinner with me sometime? My treat,” he offered with a wide smile.

“Why?” Castiel eyed him suspiciously, his eyebrows coming together.

“To say thank you,” Sam said quickly, running his fingers through his hair awkwardly. “For your patience with me. For mentoring me.”

“Wasn’t exactly my choice.” He raised an eyebrow, covering a smirk growing on his mouth with his fingers.

Charlie elbowed him in the ribs. “He would love to go. It’ll be a million times better than eating leftover pizza or Ramen noodles again. Right, Cas?”

“Right,” he mumbled. He didn’t want to be boring and antisocial, after all.

“Awesome! Just let me know when you’re free,” Sam said quickly, looking relieved.

“I will.” Cas looked at his watch and stood up. “I’ll check my calendar and get back to you.” He shrugged into his jacket and adjusted his tie.

“Where are you going?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Court,” Castiel grunted. “I am testifying for an old case that’s finally going to trial.”

“Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” Charlie said with a nod, before resting a hand on his shoulder. “Put ‘em away, big guy.”

Cas nodded knowingly. “I’ll try my best, ma’am.”

Later that day

“And how does the jury find the defendant?”

“Not guilty on all charges.”

The sound of the judges gavel knocking against the bench echoed through Castiel’s mind. It was haunting, like a knock on the door late at night when he wasn’t expecting a guest, or the sound of a shutter clicking against the windowpane from the wind.

Lucas Azazel’s jaundiced eyes locked with Castiel’s. He gave a sinister smile and a wink. He got off on a fluke. He was a rapist, and he’d been raping his young daughter since she was a toddler, sneaking into her room and doing unexplainable things. He did things that made Castiel lose the little sleep he got. The man was ill and dying of liver failure, which was the main reason the daughter finally came forward. She didn’t think he could hurt her anymore if the trial went exactly the way it went that day.

Even though he was a criminal, and the case was open and shut, the jury found him innocent- on a technicality. By law he was liable for what he did, because he was her father. He was in a position of trust, so even though he claimed she consented, it wouldn’t matter. He was the parent, and she was the child. Legally she couldn’t consent. The jury, on the other hand, didn’t think he was in a position of trust. They claimed she didn’t trust him because she was afraid of him. The fuck she didn’t.

Castiel pushed out of the courthouse into the rainy afternoon, past the on-lookers, past Azazel’s daughter’s muffled sobs, and past the thick, suffocating air. He gasped for breath, needing the freshness, begging for oxygen. He stumbled down the stairs and slammed his fists onto the cold, stone pillar that held up the lip of the courthouse roof. He pressed his forehead against the damp, cool stone, hoping for clarity that never came. How could he do everything right and still not be able to put the perp away? It was a fucking technicality! He was a monster and it didn’t even matter. It didn’t make a lick of difference. What was the fucking point of even trying?

Castiel couldn’t get the image of Azazel’s daughter, Jess, out of his head. Her big blue eyes spilled over with tears, her face red as she collapsed into the arms of her mother, who had stroked her hair, murmuring promises that she could never keep. Their only saving grace was that, hopefully, he was too sick to hurt anyone ever again, but Castiel wasn’t hopeful. He was rarely hopeful and every day on the job that a criminal walked, he was less and less so.

“Detective?”

Castiel let out a breath, the heat from it fogging up around his face. He would recognize that gravelly voice anywhere. “Hello, Dean.” He wanted to stay there, against the pillar, and disappear within it, but then there was Dean .

“Are you... are you okay?”

He sighed, forcing himself off the pillar, turning toward Dean. He could feel his face wilting, the lack of sleep over the trial evident in every wrinkle and sag in his cheeks and under his eyes. “Just a rough case,” he admitted. “What are you doing here?” He straightened his spine, trying to pull himself back together.

“Parking tickets.” Dean waved the papers with a sheepish smile. His eyelashes held the mist from the rain, making his eyes glisten in a way that was extremely calming.

“Parking tickets?” Castiel asked, confused. His voice was rough with emotion, as he tried his best to focus on Dean’s eyelashes, the freckles on his cheeks, anything other than Azazel and the trial. “You live in New York, why do you even have a car?”

“They’re from when I first moved.” Dean scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks pink. He looked cute, Castiel noticed. “Before I put my Baby in storage, I had her parked in the street. Didn’t realize it’d be a shit show trying to find parking in the city. Thought that Sammy would waive them for me since he’s a cop, but no dice. He’s a slut for the law, ya know?”

Castiel smiled at that, the claws that were twisted around his lungs loosened their grip, allowing him to breathe a little deeper. “Yeah, the kid sure is.”

They stood there for a moment, an electric, palpable silence between them. There was something calming about Dean’s presence, he was like a rain track, the sound of his breathing slowed Castiel’s heart rate. His fingers twitched at his side as he tried to avoid reaching his finger’s out to touch Dean’s. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets, picking at the lint inside.

Dean chewed on his lip like he was considering something, his eyes flickering up to Castiel’s and then back down to his feet. “Hey, Detective? Would you want to get out of here? Maybe grab a bite. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. There’s a good burger place not too far,” he offered, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder.

His eyes met Deans - they were moss green and kind. He rolled a piece of lint between his index finger and thumb, considering the invitation. “Don’t you need to pay your tickets?”

Dean shrugged, shoving them hastily into his pocket. “I think I’d rather be on the run from the law than being a law abiding citizen. It’ll get Sammy in a tizzy, plus it’s a lot sexier. It fits my aesthetic.” He grinned widely.

Castiel laughed in response, running his fingers through his hair. He wasn’t quite ready to let Dean walk away from him just yet. “Burgers, huh?”

“Best in New York.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

A half hour later

Sitting across from Dean Winchester at a crappy diner was the last place Castiel expected to be on that rainy afternoon. “Alright, it’s judgement time.” Dean grinned, holding a greasy french fry between his fingers.

Castiel chewed his bite of burger thoughtfully. It was delicious, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he had to give Dean that one. He knew a good burger. “Damn, you’re right.” He allowed the smallest smile to peek out from behind the burger, before taking another bite.

“I knew it!” Dean grinned wildly, shoving his fry into his chocolate milk shake, and plopping it into his mouth eagerly.

“That is disgusting,” Castiel commented. And juvenile.

“What? Do you live under a rock, Detective? This is a damn delicacy.” Dean dipped another fry in the shake. “Open up.”

“No way.”

“Open up, or it’s gettin’ all over your face and as funny as that’d be I’m sure you’d be pissed. That’d be a shame ‘cause I kinda think you’re havin’ fun.”

He rolled his eyes in response and opened his mouth, allowing Dean to place the fry on his tongue. There was something incredibly erotic about being fed by Dean, his eyes partly closed, only showing a tint of green as the sweet and salty snack touched Cas’ tongue. Dean ran his tongue over his own bottom lip, mimicking Castiel as he tasted the snack. Their eyes met, Dean’s finger brushing Castiel’s bottom lip. It was intimate, like they were the only two in the diner, in the world. “Fine, you’re right,” he said, breathlessly. “It’s delicious.”

“Told ya.” Dean smiled.

Who would’ve known that Dean Winchester had an award winning smile? No matter how annoying he was, Castiel couldn’t help but smile when Dean did. It was infectious. He would give anything to watch Dean smile over and over again, and he had not realized until that moment.

“Glad to see you aren’t pissed at me,” Dean said, dipping another fry.

“I was never pissed at you.”

“Sure.”

“I wasn’t,” Cas said flatly. “Being pissed would indicate caring.” He shrugged dismissively, staring back at his plate.

“Right. The cold, hard detective has no feelings. I buy it.”

“It’s my aesthetic,” he teased, using Dean’s words against him, his eyes flickering up for just a second, catching Dean staring intently. Castiel swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks heat up under Dean’s gaze.

“Right.” Dean snickered in response. “Guess we are quite the pair.”

“I suppose we are.”

Castiel settled on Dean’s lips, and he had this extreme urge to lean across the table and taste the milkshake on them, but he refrained. Everything he told Charlie before was true. Dean was likely straight, Cas didn’t date, and even if he did, he would not date Dean Winchester.

“Want to talk about what happened back at the courthouse?” Dean asked casually, pulling apart the paper wrapper from his straw.

“Not really.”

“Well, I’m here if you change your mind.”

“Trying to get a story for the paper?”

“Nah, just trying to be a good friend.” Dean eyed Castiel. “Hope you’d think a little more of me, Detective.”

“I do,” he admitted. He knew that Dean wouldn’t exploit him. He was a good man. He could tell by the way he protected Krystal at the club, and the way he was around Sam. He was a smartass, but he was a good man nonetheless. His eyes met Dean’s and suddenly he wanted to tell him everything. “The longer I’m in this job, and the more evil I see... the less I can sleep. Sometimes I feel like I’m just doing damage control. It’s hard to get a conviction, even on a true criminal. How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing that?”

“I bet it’d be hard.”

Dean was looking at him, his eyes flickered up to Cas’, and he sucked in his breath, his lips parted, his eyebrows furrowing for just a moment.

“It is,” he agreed, pressing his own lips together, trying not to breathe in every one of Dean’s exhales. The table suddenly felt incredibly small, and Cas was conscious of the toe of Dean’s boot brushing against his dress shoe.

He reached forward and touched the top of Castiel’s hand, and Dean brushed his fingers along his knuckles. They both let out a breath that they’d been holding, as if their hands touching gave them permission.

“You can’t save them all, Cas.”

“I was just telling Sam that…” Castiel laughed bitterly, before letting out a ragged sigh. “And what about the ones I can’t save?” He asked desperately, his eyes wet along the edges. He twisted his fingers up, touching the length of Dean’s fingers. They were surprisingly soft, apart from a small callous on his middle finger from where his pen rested. “What about them? All of that up to God?”

Dean smiled sadly and shook his head, opening his palm wider, allowing Cas to run their fingers together absentmindedly. “Sammy may believe that, but I don’t. I don’t think God cares about us anymore. It’s just up to us.”

“Us?”

“Humankind,” Dean clarified smiling sheepishly. “But maybe you and I, too.” He squeezed Castiel’s hand, causing his heart to flutter under Dean’s touch.

“Our mom… I dunno if Sammy told you, but she died when he was a baby.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling sick. There was so much death. He could feel Dean’s fingers chill under his, and Castiel brought his other hand on top of Dean’s to shield him from whatever pain that he could.

“She was murdered. It was arson, but the police didn’t ever bring anyone in. There wasn’t enough evidence...resources. It’s not right. Sometimes it feels like there’s no fuckin’ justice.”

Castiel would’ve thought that Dean would be worked up, exasperated, but in reality he looked more sad. He looked defeated. “Sometimes it does.”

“Don’t you wish you could do more, Detective?”

“Every day.” He released Dean’s hand, letting his palms fall to his lap. He looked down at his burger and suddenly he wasn’t hungry. His stomach churned again.

“The system is broken, Cas. I just hope I can do my part.”

Castiel thought about that, while breaking up a fry on his plate. Dean was a reporter, and they always felt like enemy number one to a police officer. Everything that was written in the Times felt twisted. It felt a little too much like propaganda, but if it were Dean... Dean, knowing what he knew about Castiel and Sam, saying all the right things about justice. Maybe he could make a difference. Maybe he could instill change.

“You seem thoughtful, Detective. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

Castiel looked up at him, alarmed. His brain ran a circle, trying to find something to say. Anything to say. “Sam... Sam asked me to dinner.”

“Like a date?” He chuckled. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re his type.”

“No, not as a date.” Castiel laughed awkwardly, shifting in his seat. “He invited me out to say thank you for mentoring him, but truth be told, he’s teaching me a few things.”

“The kid’s good for that.”

“He is.”

“I wouldn’t be who I am without Sam. He is good. Better than I’ll ever be.”

“I hope he can be that for me, too.” Cas smiled, looking down at his lap.

Dean reached forward and hooked his index finger under Castiel’s chin, tilting it up. “Detective, you are good.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Bad people don’t carry this much guilt. Your shoulders are heavy. Maybe it’s time you let someone else carry some of that burden.” He smiled warmly at Castiel, almost as if to say I’ve got strong enough shoulders to carry the weight for the both of us.

Two weeks later

Castiel loved New York City. He was one of those New Yorkers that had it in his blood. He wasn’t a dreamer, someone who came over from Podunk Nowhere to try his hand in the arts. He wasn’t filled with love, hope, and Chanel No 5. Castiel was a New Yorker. His blood was dirty rainwater, subway tickets, and Nolita’s twenty-four hour pizza. He held his computer bag close to him, the strap across his chest like a seat belt. The air had a brisk chill, despite the exhaust pumping out of the cabs and into the street. He wanted coffee, needed some sunlight, Charlie insisted on it, and he couldn’t get what Dean said about his mom out of his head. So he left his shoebox of an apartment and went in search of caffeine.

The woman at the coffee counter smiled at him when he ordered his Americano, but he looked right past her. It wasn’t his intention to be rude, he just hadn’t been sleeping. He needed more than the single mug he was given, he needed an IV drip.

Growing up gay made him a tough child, one not to be messed with. He didn’t have any other choice but to create a hard outer exterior. Sometimes distance was the only way. Castiel punched a little boy in the school yard for calling him a faggot. He went to the principal’s office and was given detention for fighting. Castiel’s mother threatened to move them to Staten Island, and he never hit another child again. He walked through the hallways with his head down, his brown locks in his eyes. He could be himself in college. He could fall in love someday. He didn’t have to be so gay. He didn’t have to get in fights.

“Let people see what they want to see, Castiel,” Gabriel told his little brother, as he dabbed Castiel’s black eye with an ice pack.

He winced, the pain radiating through his cheekbones and into his nose. “Why do they care, anyway?”

“Kids are bored. Nosey. Mean.”

“They aren’t mean to you,” he countered, eyeing his older brother with his one good eye.

“That’s because I’m funny. I laugh at myself so they can’t.“

“You aren’t funny,” Castiel said, scrunching up his nose.

“Hey! I’m hilarious!”

So, if someone hit him, he let them. He didn’t fight back, even though he wanted to. Things were strict in the Novak house, growing up. The boy’s father was a police officer, a Captain, like Singer. He was rugged, stiff, and angry. He was ex-military, only no longer active duty due to an escalated case of sleep apnea. He raised his boys with a heavy hand. Home was just another place that Castiel had to hide.

Charlie had been his friend long before they were co-workers. She’d been a thorn in his side since they were fifteen years old. They were each other’s beards, prom dates, and everything in between. She was a beacon in the darkness that was his life. For awhile he suspected that he’d never love someone as much as he loved her. That maybe romance wasn’t in the cards for him. That was until Cas met him.

Inias was his next door neighbor. His father was a military man like Castiel’s. They spent the New York summer when they were seventeen working on an old ice cream truck. They’d lay in the grass in the park after a long day, plucking bubble gum eyes out of the frightening cartoon ice cream bars.

“These are disgusting,” Inias mused.

“You love them,” Castiel combatted, squinting at the beautiful blue eyed boy next to him. He didn’t know if he was gay. He didn’t think he could ask. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost Inias. There was something fragile between them. He couldn’t risk breaking it and ruining everything.

“You have me confused with someone else.”

Castiel shook his head with a wide smile and looked at the melting Tweety Bird. Inias was right, of course, it looked like a horror movie character. A wax sculpture, melting in the hot sun. The grass tickled Castiel’s ears, and the heat felt good on his skin. “I wouldn’t confuse you, Nias. Trust me.”

The boy propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Castiel. “You wouldn’t, huh?”

“That’s what I said,” he deadpanned, not looking at his friend.

“What if I looked like this?” Inias asked, putting the ice cream bar too close to Cas’ face.

“God, quit! You’re going to get it on me.” He swatted at Inias like he was annoyed, but the boy knew better.

“No I won’t!” Inias said, right as he pushed the ice cream bar into Castiel’s lips. “Oops, shit, you made a mess.”

“You’re dead.”

They chased each other until the ice cream was melted and they were covered in melted dairy and artificial food coloring. They laid in the grass again laughing, staring at the too-blue sky. The day was clear, and the sky was endless despite the skyscrapers cutting into it. Castiel could’ve stayed like that forever, laying in the grass with the boy he wasn’t supposed to like.

He didn’t expect it when it happened, when Inias leaned over and pressed a sticky, artificial strawberry flavored kiss to his lips. It was brief and quick, but it left Castiel breathless. His first kiss. It was in the middle of Central Park, on a sunny summer day, with the boy from next door. It felt like a dream.

Castiel’s father had caught them in his bedroom a month later. They had been stripped down to their underwear, Inias’ hand on Castiel’s bare chest, Castiel’s lips on Inias’ throat. It was incriminating. Mr. Novak went into a blind rage, and Castiel woke up in the hospital a day later with a broken cheekbone, wrist, and heart. Inias was gone, off to a private Catholic school out of state.

He had moved in with Charlie after that, never looking back, and when he was eighteen, his father died in his sleep. He still hadn’t heard from Inias, but he hoped that the boy from next door was still alive.

He knew a little something about wanting answers. He didn’t have the resources to fight his own demons, but Dean’s? He was a detective after all. Maybe he could take a look at Mary Winchester’s old cold case. He couldn’t do right by his first love, but maybe he could do better for Dean.

He took a sip of his coffee and opened up his laptop, immediately typing away.

One week later

“Hey Sammy so I was thinkin’...” Dean poked his head into the bathroom as Sam brushed through his hair, he squinted at his brother through the mirror. “You goin’ somewhere?”

“Just dinner.”

“Dinner? Is it a date?” Dean teased.

“No.” Sam glared at Dean through the mirror, placing the brush on the counter. “I’m having dinner with Novak.”

“So it is a date! Do you think that’s appropriate, to be taking your partner out, Sammy? Unless! Is he your partner partner?” Dean waited for Sam to counteract, Jesus Dean, he isn’t gay. Stop making it weird!

“Shut up, jerk,” Sam said instead.

“Bitch.” Dean grinned widely, taking the lack of denial as a win. He folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the doorframe while Sam gargled mouthwash and splashed his face.

When he looked up at met Dean’s eyes in the mirror, he rested his palms on the sink. “What, dude? Can I help you?”

“You seriously not gonna invite me?”

“You want to go? I got the impression that you and Novak didn’t get along.” Sam dried his face with the hand towel.

“We had a moment.” Dean shrugged, the picture of Cas’ face as he tasted the french fry covered in milkshake still perfectly preserved in Dean’s mind.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What I just said. We’re good. Let me go to dinner, and you can bring that cute crime scene tech, too.”

“Like a double date?”

“You said it, not me,” Dean said with his hands up, grinning widely. It wasn’t the worst idea that Sam ever had, and the concept got Dean’s stomach flipping.

“Christ, Dean. No,” Sam groaned, but Dean knew the look on his face. His eyebrow was quirked and his dimple was making an appearance on his left cheek. He was considering it.

“It won’t be a date,” Dean promised. He wouldn’t take the detective out to dinner with his brother for a first date, after all. “I was kiddin’, but it may be a good opportunity to get to know everyone better. We can even invite Charlie!”

“You know Charlie?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I met her. She seemed rad.”

“Rad?” Sam raised his eyebrow. “What’s going on with you?”

“Just say yes,” Dean begged trying out Sam’s patented puppy dog eyes. “I’ll call Charlie, and she’ll get the tech.”

“Her name is Eileen.”

“Fine, she will get Eileen to come. Come on, Sammy! Live a little!” Dean ruffled his brother’s hair. When begging didn’t work, his next go to was to be as annoying as possible. He wasn’t proud of the tactic, but it was effective.

“Okay, okay! Just get off my back.” Sam swatted at his brother and tried to fix his mop again.

Dean grabbed Sam by the face and placed a big wet kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, bro.”

“Gross, get the fuck off of me.” Sam laughed, shoving him out of the bathroom.

“You love me!” Dean called back, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He went into his closet to find something to wear, because he was seeing the detective, and damn it if it made him sound like a chick, but he was fucking excited.

“Do not!”

Dean made good on his promise and Charlie arrived with Eileen at the restaurant promptly at eight o’clock. Castiel arrived five minutes late. He looked a little more casual than Dean and Sam were used to seeing him. He wore a nice pair of dark jeans, with a light blue button up untucked and a tweed blazer. Dean raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t had a professor fantasy before that exact moment. He adjusted his red flannel, suddenly not feeling as attractive as he had a moment before, and he ran his fingers through his hair nervously.

“Rookie.” Castiel raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t tell me you invited the entire precinct.”

“I didn’t.” Sam smiled awkwardly. “Dean invited himself.”

“And everyone heard and couldn’t wait to spend time with me.” Dean batted his eyelashes at Castiel, taking a step closer to him.

“I’m so sure.”

“Eileen, this is my brother Dean,” Sam spoke out loud, fingerspelling Dean’s name slowly.

“Dean,” Eileen said, offering her hand.

He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “M’lady.”

“Alright, bitches, let’s eat,” Charlie said with a wide, toothy grin.

“Good idea,” Cas said, looking a little green.

They settled into their seats and the waitress came around getting their drink orders, Sam ordering an iced tea, and everyone else ordering beer and wine. His cheeks grew pinker by the second, and Dean smirked at his brother. Eileen tapped Sam’s arm and signed, okay? He nodded, offering her a smile, and she laughed in response.

Dean leaned over next to him where Castiel was sitting. “So, Detective. Want me to order for you?”

“No.” He sat up a little higher in his chair and glared at Dean. “I can order for myself.”

“Yeah, Dean, he isn’t some bombshell,” Charlie whispered from Dean’s other side. How he got stuck between them was beyond him. He’d been so focused on sitting next to that fucking tweed blazer that he didn’t notice Charlie on his left until he was already settled. “He can order for himself.”

Dean smirked, realizing that Charlie hadn’t been let in on their burger date. “Yeah, but my taste is better. Right, Cas?” Castiel looked uncomfortable, and the fact that Dean was getting under his skin was lighting him on fire. He wanted to press the detective’s buttons until he burst.

Sam’s eyes widened at the two of them. “Am I missing something?”

“No,” Cas said quickly, shooting Dean a look. “Nothing to miss.”

“Uh huh.” Dean shrugged, moving his attention back to his menu.

They all got to talking about work. Eileen explained to them some different deaf jokes, and Sam laughed along with her, his eyes bright and shiny. Dean smiled to himself; it was nice to see his little brother wrapped up in something that wasn’t murder. Someone alive.

“So, Dean,” Charlie said, leaning into him. “You’re a writer?”

“I am. A journalist.” He smiled widely, proud to finally be talking about something that he could really participate in.

“But he used to write all kinds of crazy stories growing up,” Sam said, taking a bite of his salad. “He wrote all kinds of short stories about monsters.”

“Creepy.” Charlie grinned. “I love a good horror story.”

“So do I.” Dean met her smile. He could almost see it then, Cas’ tweed jacket slung over the back of his couch, he and Charlie teasing the detective until his cheeks pinked up.

“So, what brought you to journalism instead of creative writing?” Castiel asked, mindlessly poking his dinner salad with his fork.

“I wanted a job,” Dean laughed.

“How’s that working for you?” Sam asked with a shit-eating grin.

Dean flipped him off.

“Are you working on anything right now?” Eileen asked, watching his lips for a response.

He glanced at Castiel with a smirk. “Yeah, I’m workin’ on somethin’.”

Heat crawled up Castiel’s neck at the double meaning of his words, and Dean noticed that he adjusted his collar to try to cover his growing embarrassment. “Got a little somethin’,” Dean murmured, taking his napkin, patting some non-existent dressing off Cas’ lip. “Got it,” he whispered devilishly. Another button was pressed, and Dean intended to find them all and learn what they each did.

Charlie snorted, since she apparently wasn’t as blind as the rest of the group, and Castiel shot her a look in response.

“Anything interesting?”

“Still decidin’,” Dean said with a wicked grin.

“I’m going to use the facilities,” Castiel announced, clearing his throat as he stood up. He moved his napkin from his lap and back onto the table. Nodding to the group, he quickly walked to the back of the restaurant.

“I’m gonna go, too. Be right back.” Dean said not a moment later, winking at Charlie, glad that Sam was wrapped up in a sign language conversation with Eileen. He was still pretty bad at signing, so it took all of his attention.

Dean followed the signs to the bathroom, but before he pushed in, he noticed the back door propped open. His palm moved from the bathroom door and walked out into the night air.

Castiel was pressed against the stone wall, sucking in smoke from his cigarette.

“Stressed out, Detective?” Dean asked, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching the detective suck the smoke into his mouth and let it back out. He wondered if Castiel knew how erotic he looked when he smoked, with his lips curled around the cigarette, and the way his eyes rolled back in his head, his shoulders relaxing with the breath.

“To put it mildly,” Cas said coolly, the nicotine seeming to do its job to calm him down. “What’re you doing out here, Dean?”

“Checkin’ on you.” He put his hands in his pockets. Now that they were alone there was a new pit growing inside of Dean’s stomach. “Am I... am I making you uncomfortable?”

Castiel coughed in response, as if the smoke went down the wrong tube in his throat. “Are you... Why would you be?”

“Because I’m trying to flirt with you,” Dean said with an estaterbated groan, as if it was obvious. “And damn it, my gaydar is usually shit. So if you’re not into it then you’ve gotta...”

“I am gay,” Castiel said quickly, his eyes immediately widening, as if he couldn’t believe the words came out of his mouth.

Dean smiled widely, letting out a sigh of relief. He moved away from the wall, taking a step closer to the detective. “So does that mean you are into it, Cas? Because if not, this is a real weird way to turn me down.”

Castiel took one more puff of his cigarette before stomping it out on the damp sidewalk. He turned to Dean. “I’m not...” He paused, licking his bottom lip as if he was choosing his words carefully. “Opposed.”

Deans grin grew even wider, his arms falling from their crossed position back to his sides. “Color me surprised, Novak. You like my antics after all.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

He took a step closer to the detective, almost closing the space between them. “Then what would you say? Is it my bad boy aesthetic? I’ll have you know, I still haven’t paid those parking tickets.” Dean pressed his palm above Castiel’s head on the brick wall. He could feel Cas’ breath on his lips as he looked down at the detective, not trying to conceal his smile.

“You’re a regular degenerate.” Castiel smirked up at him a bit, quirking his eyebrow. “I may have to bring you in for that.”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat as he let out an airy, breathless laugh. “You’ll have to catch me first, Detective,” Dean murmured before taking Castiel’s cheek in his free hand, closing the space between them completely, pressing his lips to Cas’ in a hard, urgent kiss.

Read Part Three

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Art by @cryptomoon

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minaminokyoko · 5 years

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Spider-Man: Far from Home--A Spoilertastic Review

Oh, my baby boy is back and it feels good.

Like many of you, I was looking forward to FFH due to the trauma left behind by our final film with all the Avengers present, and I needed to see my sweet Spider Son to try to dry my tears. I'm happy to say Far from Home is just the popcorn flick we need this summer: light, enjoyable, fun. I do admit to a bias right off the bat, before I begin the review: I am one of the hugest fans of the Iron Dad and Spider Son dynamic, and so I knew by default that I wasn't going to like this movie as much as the first one. Sorry. I am a skank for adopted family tropes, and I think Iron Dad and Spider Son was one of the strongest relationships developed in the MCU period. Losing Tony is just...agonizing. I've sectioned it off in my brain as Did Not Happen just to get by, honestly, and so keep that in mind as we proceed.

Spoilers ahead.

Overall Grade: B

Pros:

-Lemme get this out of the way: MY SONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN MY SPIDER SON OH MY GOSH PETER PARKER IS SUCH A GOOD BOI AND A SWEET SMOL BEAN AND I HAVE NO MATERNAL INSTINCTS EXCEPT WHEN IT COMES TO MCU PETER PARKER AND I LOVE THIS CHILD MORE THAN ANYTHING AND I JUST WANT TO PROTECT HIM AND HUG HIM AND BRUSH HIS HAIR AND COOK HIM DINNER I LOVE MY LITTLE BOY Y'ALL.

-Ahem. Tom Holland still shines in this role. I really, solidly care about Peter Parker. He's a great kid and he's very realistic in the way that he's written and acted. He's just a shy, awkward little nerd with a heart of gold who unfortunately has been forced into the worst situations that he's not ready for. I wanted to punch "Nick" in the face for how much goddamn pressure he put on a kid who is literally still in the goddamn mourning process just like everyone else. Peter has so much to deal with and he's only had these powers for a short amount of time, so it's natural that he's so frustrated and anxious and he wants time to go after things that are important to him. I found that very understandable and sympathetic, even if the "I just want to be normal" trope has been done to death in superhero media. MCU Peter has so much heart and I'm proud of this baby for what he's able to accomplish.

-The allusions to Tony and the void left behind hit home quite hard. Especially that fucking gravestone part of the Mysterio sequence. That was just...cruel. Tony taught Peter so much, and he genuinely loved that kid. He grew to love him and trust him and worry about him, and it's so awful that Tony won't get to see him grow up to be his own man. I'm grateful for the time they had together, and I really love Tony leaving Peter the glasses and the A.I., knowing that while he might still make a mistake, he would do the right thing in the end. (Side note: EDITH is as funny as it is fucked up, "Even Dead, I'm the Hero." God fucking damn you, Tony, that is so in-character and it hurts my soul.) "Nick" shoving all that pressure onto Peter made me want to kick his ass, especially since he talks down to him and tries to blame him for not being ready when he only just got into the game relatively speaking. But I also loved the sequence of him in the plane doing exactly what Tony used to do in his lab. It's such a great parallel, showing that Peter is his own person but he's also a chip off the old block, and that is very sweet to see. (I also squealed at the Led Zeppelin comment, oh my son, such a cutie.)

-I was extremely hesitant about them choosing Gyllenhaal for the role of Mysterio (not because of his skill as an actor, just because he looks like a giant puppy, sorry) but now I see why. He's an unstable narcissist and it fits him. What a jerkoff. I was furious with how callous he was and how he shifted blame everywhere like it's just SO necessary to kill all these people for fame, fortune, and money. Ugh, what a shitbird. So kudos to him. I didn't think he could pull it off, but he sure as hell did.

-The effects were fantastic. I really do think the illusion sequence will go down in MCU history as one of the most visually creative, disorienting, heartbreaking things we've seen so far in the saga. It was harrowing, especially the Iron Man suit crawling out of the grave. What a kick in the fucking nuts for Peter, and for us.

-Peter and MJ, while it did get a little overwhelming, were cute as shit. And I'm glad that the modern films are removing the stigma of the "I can't let my family and friends know I'm the hero" thing. It was definitely heavily done in the 80's, 90's, and early to mid 2000's and I'm fine to see it being phased out at least in terms of the MCU. It's a little more realistic that most of your family or friends would be able to handle your secret, and not only that, help you out on occasion. I'm glad she knows and their kisses were freaking adorable. Sweet babies.

-That. First. End. Credits. Scene. What a fucking killer. First off, God bless whoever at Marvel Studios listened to the thousands of fans begging them to cast J. K. Simmons as J. Jonah Jameson again, continuity be damned. The man IS the embodiment of the character, and I absolutely fucking ADORE that they gave us the nod and the wink we all wanted even back when Spidey was Andrew Garfield. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Next, oh my God, my sweet baby boy, my smol bean, got called out and branded as a murderer. Fuck, this is gonna be a serious problem, and considering the fact that we don't have the next MCU film lined up yet (at the time this was posted, and mind you, San Diego Comic Con is in two weeks, so maybe they'll clarify) the consequences could definitely be crazy. Poor Peter. He's gonna have a lot of work to do in order to undo this mess and prove that he's not Spidey, but this could also mean they're adapting some part of the Civil War story, maybe. We'll see, but that was a big ass bomb to drop.

-The Skrulls second credit scene was a genuine surprise, and it made sense. I thought Nick felt a little off the whole movie, and that really does explain why--it's someone else doing an impression of him and trying their best. Nick would've been smart enough to know probably right off the bat that Beck wasn't who he said he was. His story was way too noble and convenient. Nick would've probably have run facial recognition and then it would ping for a former Stark Industries employee, and that would've been a wrap. I like that it being a Skrull justifies what would be a plothole. Neat idea.

-I appreciated the Spidey's eye view of the action. Those were some cool shots and they were centered well, so you didn't feel nauseous or anything. It kept you in the action and was very engrossing and cool.

Cons:

-The bystander syndrome that everyone got this time around is a little irksome. It's the same reason that while I really, really love Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2, I default don't like it as much as the first one since everyone got put into the bystander spot except for basically Peter in the very end. While it was nice to have them defend themselves, I'd have liked it more of MJ and Ned and the others figured their own way out of escaping the drones. Why? Because it would show Peter that it's not always on just his shoulders. His friends are competent and they can help, and I think that would've been a better way to go rather than him doing it himself.

-Some of the humor was flat. JB Smooth and the other teacher are the worst offenders, I'd say. They were given too much screentime and they're not that funny.

-The May and Happy subplot goes almost nowhere and isn't fully explored, and I kind of would've been fine if it hadn't been in the movie at all. It doesn't add much.

-The ending was kind of unclear? Did Beck actually get shot and die from his wounds? If so, then what was the official story about the drones and his body and whatnot? It's all pretty damn vague. If Beck is dead, that's disappointing. I kinda wish Marvel would stop killing the villains at the end of almost all the films. Longest running recurring villains are Loki and Thanos, I think. Vulture lived, and I'd like him to return in the future if possible. You can use actors more than once, Marvel, they're not tissue paper.

-Nitpick: It did almost feel like we missed a movie where Peter likes MJ. She was more a cameo in the first one than a full lead, so it almost felt like there's a short film somewhere of them getting closer and him getting over Liz and liking MJ instead.

-Nitpick: Same with the whole "other guy also likes MJ" subplot. Eh, I could leave it out and not miss it.

-Nitpick: I still can't with how they expect anyone to buy that Night Monkey story. I mean, it's black suited Spidey no matter which way you look at it. And yes, people should immediately notice he's at the very least one of the students at Peter's high school, and then it can't be too hard after that. I mean, Peter doesn't even change his voice while he's in the suit.

-Nitpick: I was kind of hoping for more clues or reactions to half of everyone, you know, being fucking murdered by Thanos for five years and returning to their lives. But I guess that was just pushed aside because it could become a whole rabbit hole issue. Still, though, I was hoping someone would tell us if the Snapped just don't remember being dead or if there is some kind of afterlife they experienced. (Side note: wow, holy shit, the teacher's mini story about it was dark and awful but I did laugh out of shock. I mean, damn. Low blow, wifey. Low fucking blow.)

-They mention spidey sense but I'd have liked it if they explicitly explain why he has it sometimes but other times he doesn't? It seems to fluctuate, but why and how? Is it more like anxiety or an extra sense? Is it based on his emotional health? I want clarification.

All in all, I had a good time and I'd put this in the middlegrade MCU films. I still really enjoy Holland in the role and I want nothing but good things for him and this franchise.

#spider-man #spider-man far from home #far from home #movie review #film review #spoilers #spoiler alert #iron dad #spider son

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massmurdera · 5 years

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2018 best (and some worst)

2018 was the shittiest year of my life personally and I was a trainwreck almost instantly. I was real hopeful going in, but I got my heart broken as badly as I could get (and it somehow just kept getting worse). Ugh. It’s boring to articulate, but it was a never-ending Russian nesting doll of heartbreak, disappointment, and frustration. But I made more positive changes in the last 12 months than I did in the last 12 years. So that’s something.

TV Funniest go-to show: Desus and Mero (wish they didn’t go on hiatus when they left for Showtime) Favorite shows: 1) Big Mouth 2) Atlanta 3) Killing Eve 4) Bodyguard 5) Haunting of Hill House

Other shows I enjoyed: American Vandal; Homecoming; Americans; GLOW; Better Call Saul; Succession; Cobra Kai; Kominsky Method; Corporate Meh: Barry; Sharp Objects; Who Is America?; Daredevil Favorite Comedy specials: 1) Rory Scovel 2) Bert Kreischer 3) John Mulaney

MOVIES 4 ½ stars: Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse; Sorry to Bother You 4 stars: Quiet Place; Hereditary; Mission Impossible: Fallout; Blackkklansman; Deadpool 2 3 ½ stars: To All the Boys…; Incredibles 2; Game Night; Revenge 3 stars (solid rental): Game Night; Upgrade; Revenge; Ant-Man; Hold the Dark 2 ½ stars (OK rental): Black Panther; Avengers Meh: Love Simon; Support the Girls Probably Good but bored the shit out of me: Roma; First Reformed; Eighth Grade Hated: Mandy; Ballad of Buster Scruggs

STILL NEED TO SEE: Bad Times at El Royale; Bodied; Creed 2; Death of Stalin; Favourite; First Man; Free Solo; Green Book; Halloween; If Beale Street Could Talk; Minding the Gap; Solo; Star is Born; Vice; Widows

MUSIC Favorite Records: 1) Brian Fallon-‘Sleepwalkers’ 2) Story So Far-‘Proper Dose’

1975 has great songs but they have too much filler in their records. Damn good songs: Foxing-‘Nearer My God’; Wonder Years-‘Pyramids of Salt’; Thrice-‘Beyond the Pines’ PODCASTS Favorite Podcasts personally: -Filmdrunk Frotcast (Movies/comedy) -Dollop (history PLUS comedy) -Bill Burr’s Monday Morning Podcast (one-man rant from the best comic alive) -Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend (comedy + conversations) -Rewatchables (Movies/comedy) -Bill Simmons (conversations) -Pardon My Take (sports + comedy) -Chapo Trap House (leftist politics + comedy) -Press Box (media)

Intercepted’s takedown of George HW Bush is great. That show and Citations Needed has its moments. I think if you’re a historian/leftist, the best podcasts are Hardcore History or Common Sense (Dan Carlin), Citations Needed, Intercepted, Chapo Trap House, and the Dollop. Dan Carlin is the one you can enjoy if you’re on ANY political spectrum—and the Dollop is not too far behind; that’s truly the most special when it hits.

Other: My Favorite Murder; Revisionist History; Matty + Nick; Hound Tall; We’ll See You in Hell; Binge Mode: Harry Potter; Bertcast/Open Tabs; Gladiator: Aaron Hernandez

Re-listening to Walking the Room for the 3rd time; that’s my favorite podcast of all time. Late pass: ‘Embedded’ series on Trump is amazing. Doesn’t come out often but when it does? Fascinating and goes in on Trump stories that don’t get talked about. Podcasts I’d recommend: In the Dark; RFK Tapes; Slow Burn (S2 on Monica Lewinsky scandal is great)

‘In the Dark’ is by far the best. S1 in 2016 I prefer over S2; check out both. Podcasts I’m going to check out: Crimetown: Detroit; Serial S3

Vince Mancini (Filmdrunk/Uproxx) has an annual best list on the best investigative/true crime podcasts each year that are the best lists I’ve seen. Best Dollop Episodes of the Year (must-listens on serious subjects): Donald Trump; the Resnicks: Water Monsters; George HW Bush; John McCain; Wells Fargo; Erik Prince & Blackwater

The above subjects deal with subjects to be genuinely outraged about versus faux things to be outraged about everyday (Russia; Louis CK or what a comic said) and the way the media talks or ignores subjects completely. The way it’s done is so great (Dave reading a topic coldly while his friend interjects with commentary—and then in the end coming together with a South Park-esque take on what the fuck is happening)

Other: Feinstein and the Flag; Levittown: the White Suburb Funniest episode of the Dollop: 1908 New York to Paris Car Race (live w/ James Adomian). Hands down the funniest. Dave purposely saved a great one for the fucking great and underrated James Adomian.

I can tune in and out of some Dollop episodes, but when it goes in on a subject or has a particular guest, you know it’s going to hit.

BOOKS Favorite book: City of Thieves by David Benioff Late pass great: ‘Slaughterhouse Five’ Pretty good: ‘Devil in White City’; ‘Lexicon’ Meh: ‘Sirens of Titan’ Hated: ‘the Bell Jar’

Best twitter follows/online writers: Justin Halpern; Drew Magary; Brian Grubb

BEST EVENTS: 1) Gaslight Anthem 59 Sound 10th Anniversary 2) Boston Calling: the National, Menzingers, Queens of the Stone Age, the Killers 3) Bert Kreischer @ Wilbur: near front row 4) Bill Burr @ TD Garden 5) Pats-Titans playoff game

Biggest regret and disappointment: Moving my ‘ex’ into my friend’s house in January (with the hope that I’d be living there half the time too)—only for her to end up wanting NOTHING at all to do with me that same day after I helped her unpack out of nowhere, threaten suicide in a non-joking manner in front of her new roommates and my friend after a political argument at the end of the first night she moved in, get with someone we work with behind my back almost instantly (a bland and lame cokehead who got busted for cocaine 18 months prior and faced 7 years in jail), try to fuck my friend when I was mid-conversation with them both first time seeing her 3 months after it all ended—and for her to eventually date my friend’s roommate who my friend warned me would try and fuck her but I didn’t take seriously because I thought he wasn’t good looking, tiny, just vaped all day long, and kind of a douche. Cool. Awesome.

I mean, that’s a simplistic breakdown of it all and how I feel about it when I’m angry. It’s more complex and fucked up than that and I could write a book on it to elaborate my thoughts, good and bad. It’s genuinely heartbreaking to articulate it and I withheld that from her: part of the reason why I moved her into my friend’s place (she didn’t know him or anybody) was because I wanted her in my life and didn’t want to lose her. Instead, it felt like I locked myself out of a party, I’m banging on the door and it’s cold outside, but nobody hears me. It’s just that feeling constantly. At the same time, it’s also very simple: she just wasn’t that into me, valued me, gave a damn, respected me, or cared. It’s NOT as angry or mean as it sounds. It just is what it is. Do NOT move the person you’re seeing into a friend’s place. If it doesn’t work out, make sure you can get a clean break. Oh, and probably do NOT date at work if you can until you know one of you is leaving (or, in my case, she leaves 10+ months after it’. I fucked both up and it’s been impossible to move on. Thankfully, she just left work 2 weeks ago and there’s less anxiety, mental work (thinking about her all the time which I still do but it’s not on maximum overdrive) and tiny heartbreaks each day. I mean, I was devastated when she told me she was leaving and there was finality. I miss her and have missed her all this time, but it’s a good thing: there was nothing I was getting out of it. But still: why did she say yes to moving into MY friend’ s place if she was just going to do a 360 heel turn, be an asshole and resentful towards me out of nowhere, never bother seeing the place I moved into/what I did with it?. Just a disaster of my own creation. I like to think in time I’ll get over it all and move on. I highly doubt I’ll ever see or talk to her again. I refuse to ever go back to my friend’s house for a variety of reasons and I had those thoughts even before the Cinco de Mayo party, but definitely after. I just don’t belong there and it hurts. And I know she’s uncomfortable too if I’m there even if she says otherwise.

Best thing personally: my brother got married, his wedding, friends, and my family. It’s cool to see my brother have his life together, be married into an awesome family, and meet a nice girl. I’ve seen my brother have his heartbreaks, but it’s nice to see him finally have peace and consistency. He’s got a really great house near where the Pats play (closer than where we’d park to games), works 4 days a week and makes bank too.

BIGGEST CHANGES I MADE moved out to a place of my own in late January-it’s my uncle’s 3-decker, which he intends to pass on to me. So I’m saving $ by being here and it’s decent. The drawback is that it’s 3rd floor and inhospitable during the summer when it’s an oven with no windows where they should be to put an AC unit in (I just stayed at my parents: I would have toughed it out but I desperately need sleep for school). But yeah, I’m over 30 and needed a place of my own. I’d love to live in Boston, but it’s completely fucking unaffordable unless you work 2-3 jobs.

One annoying thing: my driveway gets egged EVERY day since May. We have fake cameras, but pretty sure it’s the next-door neighbor and not some punk kids on their way to school. It is enraging. Who eggs a house everyday? And it’s literally only my car or the lady next to me, not even close to the street. I keep on looking at the trajectory of the eggs and it’s fucking ridiculous. Luckily, because of school (and because I was away during the summer), the egging doesn’t happen until after 8-10 AM.

I’m 10 minutes from my parent’s place (halfway to my workplace and gym as a cut-off place), 5 minutes from the school I attend, and centrally located to things I want to be (Boston, my brother, Cape Cod, possible job changes or to where I intend to move if I can)… went to school to be an electrician-In school 715 to 1245 Monday-Friday. Pain in the ass schedule and tiring, but a big change. I suck at being handy. Most people are sons of people in the trade or went to trade school. Then there’s me: never picked up a drill or a hammer. But I’m working on it.

I mean, the job IS risky (it’s not an office job) and any job outside of going back to school for a master’s or doctorate to get ahead (I fucking tried!) requires backbreaking manual work that breaks you down in most cases (construction, plumbing and smelling bad to even fixing cars where I hear that breaks your body down). Being an electrician seemed like the least of them all unless you want to be a linesman stuck outside no matter the weather for National Grid or down in manholes—because they pay REALLY well (most people in class actually want those jobs without reservations). I’m fine with being paid pretty well while enjoying myself. I’ll stay away from something monotonous like solar panels or being on a roof all day though.

Jiu-Jitsu-did this for 3 months and loved it. Had to take a break because I can only do weekends and it’s expensive. And I’m too exhausted for 9 AM class come Saturday. After a 6 AM to 12AM schedule M-F, I just completely fucking crash come Saturday. I fully intend on going back and doing yoga too when I finish school in July.

Most people start doing jiu-jitsu because of Joe Rogan. My answer got a laugh. ‘Yeah, I wanted to try something new. Also, I watched John Wick about a 100 times.’

Therapy-post ‘break-up’ I realized I needed help. I spent a month in February not being able to fall asleep (maybe 24 hours sleep in 3 weeks) before I finally got meds. About a million waking nightmares (holy shit that’s a thing). Constantly crying, particularly on the weekends without her, separation anxiety and just anxiety that did not go away at all: a constant weight. We had a Jim-and-Pam relationship at work, even when it was over—but once she started dating my friend’s roommate, she distanced herself more than ever and it was just fake as fuck. I was frustrated with not finding a job to not passing a test that I studied my ass for 3+ months for that would allow me to leave my job AND the girl. They threw in shit that was not on the study guide at all in the test. Blah. I punched a hole through my bedroom wall (like they do in the movies) and fucked up my hand a bit.

But yeah, I’m working on my confidence, following through with my goals, challenging myself, making adjustments, facing fears, getting over my anxiety, relationships. I’m proud of how, even without therapy, I handled the girl who was cold and distant: I was ALWAYS warm and welcoming, had a good attitude about it with her. It wasn’t a point of pride to be that way; I just was. If I was around her, the hurt just kind of all faded, however briefly. In the back of my head I wanted to light her the fuck up for how she was acting or NOT acting, but I just didn’t. But it’s hard. I am depressed all the time, but not nearly as overwhelming as I was. I’m really lonesome—and I want to reach out, but I don’t know to who a lot of the time. I feel left out and it’s hard to maintain relationships, but I am trying. It’s hard at 32 but people fade away. You think you’re wiser and more mature that it won’t happen, but it does. It’s just harder to make friends, I guess. I ruminate all the time and think too much. I’m trying to be mindful and in the moment. But I keep on thinking about all the things I’m NOT doing or the things I’m waiting for to happen. But there’s always going to be that. I am doing a LOT and the changes aren’t coming all at once. I like my therapist (I had one when I was in 5th grade and again when I was 19: I didn’t like them: finding a therapist that fits you is the biggest thing)

I realized a lot of the problems I had were patterns even going back to the heartbreak I felt at 18-20 when I was the worst mess I ever was. It wasn’t the girl who broke my heart, but it was me. I should have been better and stronger far before I met her. I wasn’t really living I don’t think. In some ways, I gave up and was sleepwalking through things. But everything I thought I was past just bubbled to the surface. And I had to get it right, something needed to change, and I needed help.

I withheld my problems from everybody because I didn’t want to be a burden. I especially did NOT want to be depressing but I think I became a burden for the girl who broke my heart. She had nothing to give and she was upset at me for talking to her at work and being cheerful, telling stories, or anything. Secretly, I was a mess and it was painful. In a way, I was denying myself and that made it worse.

Here’s the thing: I don’t think I’m that big of a mess. I might be lonely, but I got a good head, attitude, and people generally like me. I make people laugh easily and without trying. I got a lot going for me and I got support.

Tattoos -got the lighthouse tattoo I always wanted since I was 18. I didn’t believe a tattoo artist could carry out my idea. Liked the tattoo artist so much that I stretched it out into a full sleeve. I want to do more and have some ideas. We’ll see.

Other-new car; collecting board games; got tour posters and Pats memorabilia framed WORST POLITICAL: the chaos that comes with Trump-Well, that hasn’t changed. I’ll hate the GOP/Republicans and that goes without saying. I have some small hope with people like Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, but I don’t have any faith in the Democratic party at fucking all: they will rather work with Republicans than work with people who actually want to make an actual change. You kind of just realize how shitty a party they and Obama were and how they are bought/paid for and resistant to any meaningful change. We are fucked.

LOOK AHEAD TO 2019: -finishing school in July and starting new career as electrician -cousin’s wedding and going to Las Vegas for a bachelor party (I’m more psyched for the awesome house we are staying in than Vegas itself) -Pats playoff run and possible end of Brady-Gronk: I’m not hopeful, but I’m going to enjoy my favorite Boston athletes of my lifetime. Couldn’t ask for anything more from them. I just wish Bill Belichick did a better job as a GM and not fucking up nearly every draft since 2006 besides 2010 and 2012. They’ve won 5, but feels like Belichick cost the Pats 3-5 more minimum. Every year you have Tom Brady, you’re in the AFC Championship or Super Bowl. Belichick and Patricia mailed in the Eagles Super Bowl on defense. WTF was that? -doing jiu-jitsu, yoga, taking up swimming, continue following through on my gym program: my goal is to delay having a bad back as long as possible. I’m in the best shape of my life by far, so that’s good. I want to cut some of my gut weight out though: when I bend down to put on my work boots, I feel it. -more tattoos? -dating again (I am struggling so BADLY with online dating and need to work on having better pics: I can’t get a single match/date) -looking at buying a condo or home. I’ve got about $100K saved up and just slowly collecting things in my apartment for the big transition. Still would like to see where I end up working. Ideally, I’d love to have a lake house somewhere decent and centralized.

BOOKS: -Don Winslow wrapping up cartel/border trilogy -new Gillian Flynn?!? -Marlon James’ African Game of Thrones trilogy begins -Stephen King

TV 1a) Desus and Mero returns 1b) Game of Thrones final season 2) Veep final season 3) Lovecraft Country 4) Watchmen 5) Stranger Things 6) Good Omens 7) Devs 8) Fosse/Verdon

NEW: City on a Hill; Deadwood movie; Star Wars; Veronica Mars

MUSIC -Boston Callling -new: 1975, Bruce Springsteen

MOVIES: 1) Once Upon a Time in Hollywood 2) John Wick III 3) Us Toy Story IV 4) Fast and Furious: Hobbs and Shaw OTHER: Avengers; Captain Marvel; Glass; It 2; Joker; Lego Movie 2; Spiderman; Star Wars; Under the Silver Lake; Where’d You Go Bernadette; Zombieland 2

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 6 years

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James McAvoy x Female Reader: Bloody Numpties

A/N: I had a major writer’s block these past months… Until I came across this imagine of James McAvoy that just made me sit down and write this entire thing in one go. It may feel a little rushed at times, definitely not my best work, but I had quite a blast writing it. There are no warnings, except maybe an occasional curse and my awful portrayal of Scottish accent, which I learned to really love these past months… Oh and James’ mimics, because having that much charisma should be illegal. Enjoy x

None of these gifs are mine.

“And I’m done here.”

You felt the soft ends of the brush caress your forehead one more time before you forced yourself to open your eyes. Hair and makeup were the best parts of your routine these days: sitting in front of those huge-ass mirrors with light bulbs burning bright and illuminating your features, you remembered once in a while that you were actually a human, and not some mutant with 5 kilo bags under your eyes and skin so pale it almost seemed transparent.

Mutant. Ha. James would love that.

Quickly checking you reflection in the mirror, you gave the makeup artist assigned to you a warm smile. She smiled back, quickly putting her things away and silently admiring her work.

You turned back to face your reflection, your eyes traveling down your highlighted cheekbones to your perfectly contoured dark pink lips.

You had to give it to her, the woman could work miracles.

“So beautiful, lassie”, you almost jumped, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Chuckling slightly, Michael distanced his face from your ear before you could smack him, thus ruining all the work Kimberley the Makeup Artist had done on him.

“Fass-ass, I swear to God, if you use that fake Scottish accent on me again…” you whispered through gritted teeth, watching his shit-eating grin’s reflection in the mirror.

“You’re up in ten, you guys”, Kimberley’s melodic voice interrupted your very improper, even downright scandalous train of thought as you turned to face her. “I’ll send James to fetch you after I’m done with him”.

Both you and Michael hummed something incomprehensible in response before she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“Don’t,” you immediately shot Fassbender a killer look, watching him open his mouth to speak already. “We’re not having this conversation again, Michael. I knew there was a reason for you coming to my makeup station out of the blue”.

Leaning back on the table right next to yours, the actor you currently hated the most in this world crossed his arms, his whole being exuding annoyance and a healthy dose of disappointment.

“You can’t go on like this forever, you know”, he finally let out, staring at you, unblinking.

You raised your eyebrows at him as if saying watch me, before hopping off your chair and leaning closer to the mirror, running your fingers through your locks to give them some more volume.

Not that they needed it. Leaning closer to the mirror meant blocking Michael’s face from your field of vision and thus avoiding his heavy, judgmental stare.

“I have no idea what you talking about”, when it came to this kind of conversations, as always, you thought your safest bet was to play dumb; as always, Michael rolled his eyes behind your back, getting more and more exasperated with his own helplessness.

“Y/N…” you knew that tone, just like you knew exactly what would follow. So in order to cut the crap, you turned your entire body in his direction, copying his pose by folding your hands on your chest.

“What do you want me to say to him, hmm, Michael? James, I’m sorry, but I fucked up? I sucked at being your best friend by lying to you? By wanting to feel that jawline of yours cut my inner thighs open they are so sharp? Please,” you snorted, turning back around, biting your bottom lip hard, your teeth ruining your lipstick.

“Shit,” you muttered, trying to spread the color evenly on your lips now and only making it worse.

Michael snickered, looking at your pathetic attempts to fix the damage.

“Come here, you fool,” you felt him grab your hand, and pull you closer. With millions of thoughts orbiting in your head like a hoard of fireflies, you gave in. Carefully sliding his thumb over your lip, Michael almost fixed the entire thing, making the view a lot more bearable.

“Thanks for that”, you muttered sincerely, looking back at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes now fixed on his reflection, you swallowed hard. “He is going to hate me”, your lips barely moved, but still, Michael understood, responding with a frown. “I know him far longer than you do, and trust me, he is going to freak. I swear if you tell him…” it took you a gargantuan effort not to bite your bottom lip again. “I’ll tell Alicia all about…” you stared daggers at him as a smirk bloomed on his lips.

Michael came closer to you, sliding his hand up and down your back, a smile that would put a Cheshire cat to shame stretching on his thin lips.

“Who’s Alicia?” he interrupted you mid-sentence, gazing into the mirror, catching your eyes with his, so wicked and full of intent. You scoffed at his lame joke and squirmed at that horrible Scottish accent Fassbender had put back on, like an old wool jumper that didn’t fit him one bit. “You are underestimating yourself, Y/N. Honest to God, if it weren’t for Alicia, I’d be thrilled to show ye how sharp my jawline can be…”

You gasped at his comment, staring at him in disbelief. Hysterical sparkles danced in his eyes as he smiled contentedly at his comment which he apparently thought was going to make you feel better. On the verge of bursting into a fit of laughter at the sight of your scandalized expression, he pouted his lips and winked at you, obviously trying to mimic James.

Irritated out of your mind, you turned around swiftly, ready to smack him across his chest when he caught you by the wrist.

“You bloody…” the door to the room flew open, hitting the wall with a loud screech and not letting you finish. Uneasy smile vanished from your face as soon as you saw who was behind it.

“James,” you managed, your throat suddenly going dry.

McAvoy avoided looking at you, of that you were certain. His beautiful eyes, framed by those incredibly long eyelashes were now dodging you like you were fucking plague.

Your stomach dropped as soon as your best friend spoke, his voice cold and distant, so unlike anything you’ve ever heard come out of that plump mouth of his…

“It’s showtime,” he almost spit, the venom of his tone crashing into you like a splash of acid. “Sorry tae interrupt.”

And just like that, he was out of that door again, without looking back.

You didn’t dare to look at Michael, your heart beating so frantically you felt it crash your ribcage. The shit has hit the fan. He knew.

Watching Michael crack third joke in a row in response to Jimmy’s antics, you gave them both a smile so fake you probably looked like a psychopath straight from a horror movie. Normally, you would be the one teasing both Fassbender and McAvoy mercilessly, and they would look like they are about to call for their respective mothers. Normally, you would be the one interacting with the public, making them laugh and whistle at your comments. But this wasn’t normal you. Normal you stayed in that makeup room curled in the corner crying her eyes out, humiliated by the fact that your best friend knew you dreamed of his head in between your legs. And what was worse – wait for it – that same best friend knew and wanted, apparently, nothing to do with you anymore.

Michael was obviously carrying the entire happening on his shoulders. James would throw a line in occasionally, let out a throaty laugh now and then and give those screaming girls his trademark wink. You, on the other hand, were tense and silent, like the sky right before a thunderstorm. Asking yourself again and again how much he’d heard and trying to convince yourself that you had been freaking out over nothing and imagining things, you stayed completely out of the entire conversation, smiling occasionally, not even caring enough to know why you were, in fact, smiling.

That was until Jimmy Fallon, his prying eyes fixed on James, let the only question you dreaded most fall off his lips. His voice broke you out of your stupor, making you shudder, sending fat drops of sweat down your back.

“So James,” his gaze switched to your face, and unable to hear anything because of the blood pumping in your ears, you managed to read his lips. “We all agree that you’ve got pretty lucky landing yourself Y/N as your love interest in this part of the franchise”, the audience screamed at Fallon’s bluntness approvingly, while all you wanted to do was to strangle the man. “What was it like to work with her? This wasn’t the first time you guys shared intense looks… I mean the chemistry between the two of you is a real deal!”

The audience yelled in approval again, yet all you could hear was your own heart beating in your throat now.

Good lord Y/N, what are you, twelve? Get a fucking hold of yourself! you internally screamed, looking at all those people and laughing silently.

Because the entire situation was so bloody hilarious, obviously.

“I’ve got tae say…” As soon as James opened his mouth, you felt your knees go weak, and you prayed to whoever would listen nobody would notice the state you were in. You earned a bloody Oscar for this show alone.

“Marry her, James!” just when McAvoy started to speak, a male voice rang in the air, attracting all the attention. You turned around swiftly, followed by Michael, trying to spot the screaming person. Laughter erupted in waves all around you, Fassbender doubled up in his seat. Switching your gaze back to James, you noticed the Scotsman look in that exact direction from where the voice came as his lips parted in a genuine, beautiful smile you loved. He winked at the stranger, as if saying I’m on it, bro, before continuing.

You did your best not to stare at James open-mouthed but failed. Luckily Fallon found your reaction hilarious, teasing McAvoy about it, but you heard none of it, utterly stunned.

“I’ve got tae say,” James raised his voice, interrupting Jimmy and the cheering crowd, his face still lit up with a smile. “Working with Y/N is outtae this world. I mean, look at her,” with both of his hands he motioned towards you, exhibiting your beauty. “Man, how can all that talent, elegance and splendor fit in one and the same person? She’s incredible.”

And that’s when his big beautiful eyes finally met yours. Together with what you recognized as sadness and pity, that despicable feeling you were so afraid of, you also saw hope, half-hidden behind those ocean blue irises.

He was secretly hoping you could stay friends, you suddenly realized. He didn’t love you back and he probably never would nurse this kind of feelings for you, but maybe – just maybe – you could still be friends!…

“Jesus, James,” …and then Michael just had to bloody open that big mouth of his. “I might actually get jealous, you know”.

And just like that, that smile you’d sell your soul for, was gone. The moment was lost, together with a tiny flicker of hope you were holding on to so hard.

James’ stare suddenly grew firm as soon as his eyes quit yours. His pupils, like barrels of two guns, aimed at Fassbender’s chest.

“O’ course ye might”, once those bullets made of pure disgust cut through Michael’s body, James turned back to face Jimmy, a smile back on his face yet never reaching his fuming eyes.

It was at this moment that you felt your blood boil in righteous anger. So he’s pissed at you for having fallen for him, whatever. This was indeed a really fucked-up move on your end. Michael, however, deserved none of the shit James was giving him. He only tried to encourage you to come clean, and honestly, this wasn’t quite an apocalyptic situation to deal with.

With the oncoming waves of anger, rising in your chest, you forgot all about that hope you saw glimmer in James’ stare. He could be a dick to you, for all you cared, but Michael literally did nothing to deserve any of this.

By the end of the interview you were so riled up you imagined quite graphically how you would call James out on his bullshit once you were alone. However, the minute the show was over, McAvoy rushed out of the place, barely saying his goodbyes to Jimmy and his crew, not even bothering to wait for you and Michael.

Biting your bottom lip so hard that it hurt, you followed him with your eyes until he was out of the door, suddenly feeling tears burning at the back of your stare.

“What is his problem?” Michael frowned, standing beside you, his eyes still fixed on the closed doors.

You bit your lip harder, keeping the answer from sliding off your tongue, the answer both you and Michael knew.

You were his problem. You and your stupid feelings.

By midnight, you have passed all stages there were to this both tragic and ridiculous situation. Wrapped in your blanket, curled up in your bed, after denial, anger, and feeling sorry for yourself you’ve finally crossed the Rubicon of acceptance.

So you fell for your best friend and he now knew it, big bloody deal. Although you still couldn’t gather up enough courage to go talk to him about it like adults that you were, you’ve pretty much made peace with him knowing about your feelings and visibly being uncomfortable with them. If he was not ready to face you from now on because he was feeling embarrassed or whatever, well, he was shit out of luck, because you were not going anywhere. You were here with him because you were doing your job and you weren’t just going to leave because some James bloody McAvoy was feeling distressed.

He was going to have to live with his embarrassment till the press tour was over, at least.

You had to admit, it hurt like a bitch though. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge that sometimes, in the early hours of dawn, you would think about all those ways James would react to your confession. And how you would then drive into the sunset together, holding hands and listening to Ed bloody Sheeran.

What your imagination didn’t work on though was how you were going to react if McAvoy almost literally showed you his elegant middle finger and closed the door to his life right in front of your face for good.

Just when you finally thought you’d come to terms with everything that had happened today, a couple of loud bangs cut the silence of your hotel room, instilling fear in you.

“Sweet Jesus, what now…”, you whispered when the night guest continued to hit on the wailing door again and again, quickly jumping on your feet and rushing to the door. You threw it wide open, not giving yourself time to think twice about it.

You were pretty sure Michael’s face was a tiny shade lighter than the tapestry behind him, a beautiful Bordeaux color. It didn’t become him at all though.

“What’s wrong?!” you exclaimed almost instantly, prominent lines on Michael’s forehead screaming volumes about his state of mind.

Fassbender was furious.

“You are going to tell James how you feel”, he had hard time controlling his temper as his voice trembled greatly. “And you are going to do it right now”.

You stared at him as if Michael was mentally retarded and just said something so stupid it lowered the IQ of the entire city.

“Come again?” you spoke, your eyebrows almost reaching your hairline. “Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but he already knows”, you fought to keep the sarcasm in your voice at bay, but it didn’t quite work. Actually, it didn’t work at all.

Your words only seemed to aggravate Michael’s pissed off state. Barely containing the anger, he grabbed you a hand, and headed down the corridor, dragging you along.

“Hey!” you yelled in protest, only now realizing all you were wearing was a silk nightgown. Covering your breasts with your free hand, you tried if not to talk some sense into your friend, then at least learn what the hell was going on.

“What happened?” you asked carefully, following Michael – he was forty times stronger than you, plus your were pretty sure that if you refused to keep up, he’d carry you all the way to James’ door.

“He’s out of his fucking mind!” Michael barked, as you shuddered at the sound. “He’s raving mad, poor bastard…”

“I don’t understand,” you interrupted, you voice small and sincere.

That’s when Michael suddenly stopped and softly pushed you towards the closed door of the suite he shared with James.

“You will,” he said, more sure of himself than ever. “Just tell him. Now is as good fucking time as any”.

And with those words, he knocked on the door so hard the entire hotel must have heard. Reaching past you, Michael turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, silently inviting you in.

“I’m going to have a whiskey”, he informed you. “And when I’m back I expect this entire madhouse to be over.”

You sighed, looking at him, searching for mercy in his eyes. Yet they remained tough, telling you that if you didn’t come in, Fassbender would carry you inside, thrown over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes at him and stepped into the room, finally resigning to your fate.

Deep inside you knew that Michael was right and the two of you needed to talk… You just didn’t know why this embarrassing and bitter conversation couldn’t wait till morning.

“James!” you called, clenching your fists and walking into the main area of the presidential suite. “Come out, come out, whenever you are.”

Looking around, you couldn’t help but smile at the idiocy of the entire situation. You must have been dreaming, none of this seemed real. Neither you, standing in your nightgown in the middle of this huge open space with a bar corner and a gigantic sofa. Nor the sounds of the water running somewhere further in the suite. Nor that huge puddle of red wine on the floor, looking like a bloodstain littered with green bottle glass…

It was only when the sound of the running water stopped that you actually realized what it meant.

As you opened your mouth to let James know you were there, he walked out of one of the corridors with nothing but a towel covering his hips.

Small drops of water still littered his naked shoulders and his toned torso. Prominent veins run along his hands, muscles taut and his biceps bulging. His hair stuck out as he ran his fingers through it, only now noticing you, feeling exposed for a millisecond.

The sound of you letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding seemed to shake him out of his stupor. Lines littered his face here and there almost instantly, his eyes sliding down your frame. You suddenly realized your nightgown must have left nothing to imagination, but instead of crossing your arms on your chest in hopes of covering yourself up, you just dropped them.

Let him bloody see what he’s missing.

You noticed how his Adam’s apple moved slightly in response to your challenging glare before he turned away, biting the inside of his cheeks, obviously trying to gain some self-control.

The atmosphere in the room had shifted so drastically from the way it was when you first walked in. Everything – you, him, the puddle on the floor – all seemed real all of the sudden, and you fought with all your might not to come up to him and touch his bare skin, run your fingers down his abdomen and then…

“Wha’ are ye doin’ here?” his voice was cold and loud, too loud for the moment you were currently sharing. He still refused to look at you. “Can I help ye with anythin’?”

You cleared your throat, caught off guard. Not reciprocating your feelings was one thing. Refusing to face you when he talked to you, however, was something else entirely. Biting your lips fiercely in order not to scream bloody murder, you forced yourself to remember why you were here. Instead of walking up to him and kicking him in his balls, like you ached to do, you just continued to stare at him, burning holes in his naked body.

“Sure thing, yeah. You can start by telling me what the hell is wrong with you!” you came off strong, stronger than you originally intended, having trouble to control your emotions.

He finally turned your way and narrowed his eyes at you but said nothing. This only served to piss you off more, his unfairness from earlier fueling your anger.

“You know what? I get it!” you felt a lump rising in your throat and pushed it down with all your might. “You think I’m sad and pathetic for falling in love with my best friend. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I fucked everything up”, you felt tears pulling in your eyes but commanded yourself not to cry, effectively keeping them back. “But you are just… You’re disgusting!” you finally found the right word and watched James’ squirm at the sound of it, rage distorting his handsome face as he finally acknowledged your presence. Before you could continue, something spectacular happened, something you’d never seen before.

James McAvoy exploded.

“I’m disgustin’?!” he roared like a wounded tiger. “oh tha’ is rich, coming from ye! I stood by ye every time, no matter what ye did, but this… How fuckin’ could ye, Y/N! I trusted ye! I gave ye me all and ye just… It’s pretty clear ye don’t give a flyin’ fuck ‘bout me, but wha’ bout her?! She’s your bloody friend!!”

You stared at him wide-eyed. What in the world was he talking about?!… None of this added up.

James literally just growled making two more steps towards you, his gaze leaving flash burns on your bare skin. Brushing nervous fingers through his hair again, he turned away from you, pacing back and forth.

“I honestly have no idea what you talking about”, you managed, feeling the heat pool in your lower stomach.

Now is not the time, you thought, biting your lips and trying to keep a clear head, a burning ache for him consuming you all of the sudden.

“Alicia, Y/N! Does tha’ name ring a bell for ye?” he turned back and you just looked at him dumbfounded, completely losing the thread of this conversation. Taking in your lost state, James threw his hands in the air in desperation. “Did ye think about her when ye thought about Michael’s fuckin’ head in between yer thighs?”

The words sounded as if he had to force them out, scarring his throat, cutting it raw. It took a minute for their meaning to settle in.

“You are insane,” you slowly countered, realization dawning on you. “Sweet Jesus, you are such a moron!!…”

“Tha’ I am alright!” he bellowed in agreement, disappointment and hurt in his every gesture hitting you like a runaway train. “Another fuckin’ pathetic moron ye scored for yeself, princess! All this time it has been him, all this fuckin’ time, while I’ve been livin’ for the crap ye give me!…”

“You think I’m in love with Fass-ass?! Are you shitting me, McAvoy?!” you screamed at the top of your lungs now, mad for hell knows what, a weird, warm and overwhelming feeling spreading in your chest as you finally understood the reason for him acting like an asshole all along. ““I love you, you bloody idiot!”

James was quite a sight to watch. All the anger seemed to evaporate off his body. He stood straighter now, his red lips half-parted, his eyes glowing like the surface of the sea reflecting the starlight. He looked like a man who wanted to believe yet didn’t not dare to. A deep frown still darkened his features, but it didn’t look so carved-in anymore. James looked like he needed you to give him a reason, one single reason to end this entire mess, because he’d be happy to oblige.

He only needed one reason.

And suddenly you knew exactly what it was.

“It’s you that I want, it has always been you!” you let out, your hands shaking for some reason. “It’s your touch I yearn for, it’s your stupid head that I…”

He didn’t let you finish. All you heard was a gasp, but you couldn’t tell to save your life if it was him or you. Soft and muffled, like a secret told in the dark of the night, it slipped from someone’s lips before his mouth crashed into yours, his hands tugging at your hair as he aligned your bodies. The cold tip of his nose caressed your skin as his lips moved against yours.

You moaned into his mouth, cupping his face in between your hands. His lips seemed to be drawn to yours as one open-mouthed kiss followed another, his tongue skimming over your bottom lip tenderly but demandingly, promising so much by doing so little. When you felt him trying to distance himself from you, in order to catch his breath, no doubt, you grabbed the back of his neck and pressed your lips into his harder, feeling him smile, his breath hot on your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, I…” James whispered, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on your cheekbones.

“Shut up,” you ordered softly as your breaths mingled together before you captured those red and plump lips with yours, your nails scratching that sensitive skin on the back of his neck, your fingers crawling down his bare shoulder blades…

“About fucking time,” Fassbender pressed his ear to the door to the room as soon as the screaming ceased. “Better fucking name your first kid Michael and make me a godfather, bloody numpties”.

And whistling some cheerful song for which he didn’t know the lyrics, he made his way down the corridor thinking now was the time to hit the bar, for that whiskey he just made sure he deserved.

#james mcavoy #james mcavoy imagine #james mcavoy x reader #michael fassbender #michael fassbender x reader #x men #reader insert #angst #fluff

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writingwithadinosaur · 7 years

Text

“Better Hands” - Part 2

Part 1 - Here

My Masterlist - Here

Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Reader

Word Count: 3693

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Your Last Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Talk of Abuse, Mentions of Abusive Ex, Cursing, Talk of Injuries,

Summary: After being in an abusive relationship, you have been able to turn your life around thanks to the help of the team. But when you have to go back to your ex for some of your things, some shit goes down.

Author’s Note: So this is my first Star Trek piece and I’m super fuckin nervous about it. I’m not a huge Trekkie, but I am a fan of the newer films. Those are what I base my fics off of unless stated otherwise. But yeah, I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces (All Works, Specific Fandoms, or Specific Multi-Parts), please let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

Tags: @goodnightwife @theeactress @the-witching-hours12-3 @amyapathetic @pokeharvest @iwillstaywiththemforever

His grip was tighter than you thought possible. The cuts were deep and your body screamed where he kept punching and kicking you. You couldn’t do anything. You were too weak to fight back or even try to call for help. But you tried.

You managed to get one little squeak out of your vocal chords before they were clamped shut by the same grip that had your arm moments earlier. You clawed and struggled to breathe as you looked at the face of your ex looming over you. Whatever he was saying was muffled as everything became darker and darker.

You shot up out of bed and reached for your throat before jolting from the pains of the real cuts and bruises that littered your body. It was just a nightmare. At least that beating was. You looked at your alarm clock and read 7AM, only 15 minutes before you had to really get up. But there was no point in trying to go back to sleep, so you got up and tried to get ready for the day.

You went into your bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet and searched for a specific medicine, one that would help ease the pain even a little bit. You found a generic pain killer and took two before going to the kitchen and putting a bagel in the toaster.

“I guess I’ll be wearing long sleeves for awhile now.” You muttered to yourself as you found a suitable shirt to go along with some looser fitting pants and your boots. As you were finishing up lacing your boots, your communicator rang.

“(Y/L/N) speaking.”

“Mornin’, lass. You don’t have to come to the office first thing. I need you to get your tools and head to that troublesome pipe in the lower section. It’s goin’ haywire again. You know what to do.” You could hear him walking somewhere, probably another pipe. Usually went one went, another nearby would be next.

“Sounds good, Scotty. I’ll let you know when I finish up there. Stay safe.”

“You too, (Y/N).” And with that, your com clicked off. You gathered your tools in a bag, grabbed your bagel, and headed to the elevator to take you to the lower section. Hopefully the painkillers would kick in soon.

~~~~~~~~

It turned out that it wasn’t the pipe that was messed up, but one of the scanners that was connected to it. You hated scanners. They were more complicated to fix than they should be, but you had to do it. You were on com with Scotty and told him the problem.

“Try your best to get it back up and running. I’ll head over and help. See you in a few.” Scotty was better at this than you, but you did have to at least try.

You knew that you needed to cut a section off and replace it, but in order to do so, you had to use a very sharp knife. Pulling it from your bag, you got to work. You were weaker today thanks to the various injuries on your torso and arms. You tried to put more force into the knife but ended up slipping, hitting your shoulder against the wall, and dropping the knife. You had hit your shoulder right on a bruise and a nasty cut. Just my fuckin luck.

The other tools fell to the floor as you somehow grabbed the knife from mid-air. You did however grab it by the blade side instead of the handle, which caused you to flinch and drop it again. You were leaning down to pick up your tools when you heard footsteps quickly coming down the hall and stopping in front of you. It was Scotty.

“(Y/N)! You okay, lassie?” You were going to respond when you saw his gaze go to your hand. You looked down and saw that you were bleeding, bad. The next thing you knew, you blacked out.

~~~~~~~~

The sterile white walls reflected the overhead light and caused you to squint your eyes as you woke up. You groaned in pain as you tried to sit up. You were up on your elbows when a pair of familiar hands where on your shoulders, helping you slowly get into a seated position.

“Hey! Slowly, darlin’.” Your eyes adjusted to see the calming face of Leonard. Apparently Scotty had called for a med team to come and get you. “Didn’t know you were that queasy around blood, (Y/N).” He sort of joked as he handed you a cup of water.

“Yeah, I didn’t know either.” In all honesty, it was probably a mix of the pain from the injuries all over your body, the new one in your hand, and the sight of blood. Overstimulation.

“(Y/N), what the hell happened? Scotty said he didn’t see what happened, just the blood and you passing out.” You explain to him that you lost your grip on a piece of equipment, hit your shoulder really hard and dropped your knife tool. Not thinking too much, you reached to grab the falling knife and ended up grabbing it by the blade and sliced your hand open before dropping it again along with the rest of your tools.

“I didn’t know about your shoulder. Are you okay? Let me talk a look at it.” You flinched away from him when he reached out and almost touched you. You knew how bad the injuries from yesterday were, and you really didn’t want to worry him.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just a bruise probably. I really need to get back to work. Am I allowed to do that.”

“Yeah. I guess. Just be extra careful today. Don’t strain anything. If I hear from Scotty that you’re overworking yourself, I will personally walk my ass down there and make you clock out early.” You knew he was serious, so you just nodded and turned to leave.

He grabbed your uninjured hand and turned you to face him again. “Hey. I love you, darlin’. You know I’m just worried about you.”

He really was, and you knew that. You knew that he would never hurt you in any way. You nodded your head and pulled him down into a kiss. It wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either. It was just enough of everything to be reassuring to both of you and make you both forget about the world for a moment. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his.

“I know you are just looking out for me. And you know how much I love and appreciate you for it. I will try my best to be safe.” He kissed you once more, this one a bit quicker than the last before letting you go.

As you were heading out, he called out to you. “(Y/N)! Dinner. 6 o’clock. My place.” You smiled a big, true smile, before nodding and heading back to work.

Later on, you finally finish work even though Scotty made it almost impossible for you to do anything. He was too worried about you injuring yourself more. You were more of his assistant that his equal after this injury. But you knew it was just temporary.

~~~~~~~~

It was 5:30PM. Finally time to clock out. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t exhausted. You ended up overworking yourself a bit, like usual, but Scotty didn’t notice.

You had just enough time to head back to your room, drop off your stuff and change before meeting Leonard for dinner. So you said your goodbyes to Scotty and took the lift to your floor. Once there, you carefully stripped out of your uniform and put on a dress you had recently bought. It would me a nice surprise for Lee. You looked in the mirror and saw the nasty bruises that covered your upper arms. Sighing, you reached for a cardigan.

“I can at least push the sleeves up to my elbows and say these bruises are from work.” You thought out loud as you fixed yourself. You looked at your watch and saw it was 5:50. Time to head to Lee’s.

~~~~~~~~

Dinner was fantastic, as usual. Not many people knew how great of a cook Leonard was. All they saw was a sarcastic asshole with a short fuse. But you knew him better than anyone.

The two of you talked about having you spend the night. And while you were worried about him seeing your injuries, you agreed. You could just wear one of his long sleeved shirts and your sweatpants that you left here. After your discussion, you got up and tried to help with the dishes afterwards but got a look from Leonard.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing? Go sit down and relax.” He had a smile on his face. He truly loved being with you alone and just living outside of the medbay.

“I am helping you with the dishes, even if all I can do is dry them.” You picked up a plate and tried to dry it when his hand found yours. You looked up and met his eyes.

“(Y/N). Go relax. Or am I gonna have to pick you up and make you go sit down?” The thought of him picking you up hurt. It would definitely push on all the wrong spots. So you gave in, but tried to be playful about it.

“Fine. I’m going to go shower then. I feel disgusting after work today.” He smiled in response and leaned down to kiss you. He put an arm around your waist and felt you tense up. He instantly pulled back and was worried.

“What happened? You okay?” He held onto the tops of your arms, getting another flinch out of you. He quickly pulled his hands off and got even more worried.

“I’m fine! Sorry. I just am really sore after today and yesterday. Lots of heavy lifting and muscle work. I guess my body isn’t used to it quite yet.” You put your hand on his cheek and kissed him once more. “I think a shower may help. Movie after I get out?”

He just nodded his head yes as he carefully looked over you, obviously still worried. You smiled at him and tried to give him a reassuring gaze before turning and heading to the shower. Time to tackle this obstacle.

You’re thankful that the water doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday when the cuts were fresh. That being said, it still hurt like a bitch. You did your best to stay quiet, but when you moved your arm to try to rinse your hair, it must have reopened a wound. There was a sudden intense pain that shot through your entire arm and torso, causing you let out a sharp yelp. You covered your mouth, as if that was going to somehow erase the noise and prevent you from audibly crying cause of the continuing pain.

You knew the Lee most likely heard, and your thought was right. Within seconds of your yelp, there was a knock at the bathroom door.

“Darlin’? You okay? I heard something.” You had to try to steady your breathing enough to respond.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just sore-” You were going to continue but stopped because your voice cracked. You knew what was going to happen next. Time for him to find out what’s actually going on.

As soon as Leonard heard your voice waiver, he opened the door. He hasn’t come in the shower yet, and can’t see you thanks to the opaque shower door. You’ve seen each other naked before, and you were comfortable around each other. You tried to talk again.

“Lee, I’m okay. I am. Just go back to whatever you were doing.” He knew something was wrong and he couldn’t let it pass by. You voice had cracked again and he could tell you weren’t okay, no matter how many times you said you were.

You heard him undressing and got so scared. What was he going to say about the cuts and bruises? He was going to get mad. Its Len we’re talking about, he has a short temper. Just breathe. Maybe he won’t be mad. But what if?

The shower door opened and closed quickly so the cold air wouldn’t get in. You prepared yourself for his shouting. But instead there was silence.

You were facing away from him, trying your hardest not to cry loudly. Because you were facing the other way, you didn’t see his face. It was one of pure worry and fear. He saw a massive series of bruised that trailed from your upper arms to your ribs and stomach. There were tiny cuts in various spots, but then there was one massive one trailing from your left shoulder, all the way down to the middle of your back. It needed the most attention out of all of the injuries.

He gently inspected the wounds. Once he finished looking at your back, he turned you around, looked over you for a few seconds, trying to see the severity of the cuts and bruising. You just cried. You lost it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lee. I just… I--” He gently pulled you into his arms and very lightly ran his fingertips up and down your back.

“Shhh. It’s alright, darlin’. You had your reasons. Just focus on breathing right now. We’ll get you patched up. You’re safe.”

It had to have been a good 20 minutes before you could stop crying. Leonard helped you get the last of the conditioner out of your hair, being gentler than you thought possible.

“I gotta clean out these cuts, okay? It’s gonna hurt a bit.” You just nodded your head up and down, too tired to talk any right now. He started to wash out the big cut down your spine.

To say it hurt, was an understatement. As soon as he touched the wound, you grabbed for his hand without thinking too much. He held your hand in one hand while he continued to clean all of your injuries. He felt you squeezing his hand and felt bad for having to make you hurt more than you already did.

“I know. I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m trying to be quick with this. You’re doing good.” You couldn’t help the tears that flowed out of your eyes. They were because of the pain, and Leonard knew that.

It took about 5 minutes of cleaning and re-inspecting until he turned off the water and grabbed your towel, helping you wrap in around yourself. Then he grabbed his own and went to go get your pajamas. He came back less than a minute later with a pair of his sweatpants and a long sleeve, saything that they were bigger and would be roomier. You gladly took them and had him help you get dressed.

He quickly put some sleep pants on before helping you into bed. He sat you down and kneeled in front of you and took your hands in his. He could feel you shaking and it broke his heart.

“I’m going to have to close that nasty one on your back. If I don’t, it’s going to keep ripping and get even worse. I know it’s gonna hurt, but I gotta do it, darlin’.” He looked at you with a protective gaze. You knew he was right.

“Okay.” You managed to say, even though it came out very hoarse and quiet. He gave your hands a squeeze and kissed your head as he went into the other room.

Leonard had a feeling he knew what caused these injuries. He knew it wasn’t work. Scotty would never put you in something intensely dangerous. He pulled out his comm and made sure he was out of earshot and even then whispered.

“James. I need you to look into Tim. I have a feeling he lashed out again.” his voice was protective and angry.

“How do you--” James tried to ask, but was cut off by Leonard’s anger.

“(Y/N) is with me, covered in not only bruises, but cuts too. One big enough that I now have to stitch her up. So go get your ass along with two security officers down to that room and bust his sorry ass. Make sure he is thankful that he’s dealing with you three and not me.” James had seen Leonard angry, but this is a new form of anger. He knew better than to mess with it.

“Alright. I will let you know when he’s taken care of.” Leonard didn’t say anything else, just hung up. He took a couple seconds to gather himself and grab the first aid kit before heading back to you.

You had somehow gotten yourself to lay on your side, knowing that your back would need to be exposed for him to work. He came up beside you and put a hand on your waist.

“I’m gonna need to you lay on your stomach. Can you do that?” You nodded your head and slowly shifted yourself and the pillows so you were comfortable but did what he needed. He pulled the shirt up and had you hold it so he could have a clear space. He kept you informed as to what he was doing and when. He knew that comforted you whenever you had to get any sort of medical exam done.

He finished stitching the cut on your back, but now needed to take care of the part that was on your shoulder. To do so, he had to help you sit up and take the shirt mostly off. Enough so he could get to the gash. Now that he was in front of you instead of behind, you decided to tell him what happened.

“Lee?” Your voice was a only a bit louder than a whisper.

“Mhmm?” He was in full doctor mode. Focused on properly stitching the last of the cut.

“None of these are from work.”

“Well I should hope not. If they were, Scotty would be in a coma right now.” He smiled to let you know he was joking, you gave a small smile in return but then faltered when you thought about what you were going to tell him. But before you could say much, he cut you off.

“I know these are from Tim.” You just looked at him in shock and confusion.

“How?” He sighed before talking while stitching.

“When we first met, it was right after one of his beatings. Scotty brought you in and I helped you heal from those. These are similar to the past ones, but with the addition of the cuts. The bruising is the same though. And the only person who would try to take you down like this is that fuckin asshat.”

You both just sat there in silence for a few moments. He finished stitching and was putting a sort of gel over the stitches that was supposed to help it heal faster. You decided to speak up.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you would be upset.” Now it was his turn to be confused.

“I thought you would be upset that I wasn’t strong enough to handle him or that I didn’t tell you or James or even Scotty about going to face him. I thought I was strong enough but I was just stupid and I should have--” You couldn’t get anything else out because you were forced into a kiss. Leonard knew that this was one of the sure fire ways of getting you to stop talking. When he pulled away, he looked at you with nothing but love.

“(Y/N). I could never be upset at you. You are strong. Maybe not as physically strong as some people, but you have grown and gotten so much better since the moment I met you. Yes, I think you should have told one of us what was going on. But I also understand why you didn’t.” You started crying again. But this time, they were happy tears. You were so thankful to have someone like Leonard in your life. He was everything you dreamed of and more. He moved his hands to your cheeks and tried his best to wipe away the tears.

“Darlin’, why are you crying? You’re gonna make me cry.” This got a laugh out of you, and he chuckled too but you could see him actually getting a bit teary eyed.

“That would be a sight to see.” He looked down, but you brought his gaze back up and kissed him again. This time with more everything. You both got lost in your own world until you tried to lay down and pull him with you. This caused another sharp pain to rip through your body. He instantly got up and went to get some sort of injection.

“This’ll help.” It was supposed to be a pain killer mixed with a small sleep aid. “As much as I’d love to keep going, you need to rest and heal. I’ll be here with you though. Every step of the way.” He paused before adding something else. “And I want you to stay here until you get back to a normal working ability.” You smirked at him.

“Are you sure it’s to keep an eye on me or is it for personal benefits?” He settled in bed next to you and put his arm around you while you cuddled up next to him.

“Maybe a bit of both.” You felt his chuckle rumble through his chest as you playfully hit him. He just leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“Get some rest, darlin’. You’re in better hands now.”

You settled yourself against his chest and felt the medicine kicking in as your eyes grew heavier and heavier. You were out within minutes, Leonard wasn’t too far from sleep himself. He took one more look at you, making sure your were comfortable before he kissed your forehead and relaxed.

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