#you’re working hard and kitchens are fucking HOT so you dehydrate pretty fast

[lilnasxvevo]

OH I forgot to mention that when I got to the scene in opla where Sanji whips his shirt off to jump in the water and save Luffy from drowning I had half a second of DAMN those abs!!!! which was almost immediately stomped down by feelings of TAZ SKYLAR GO DRINK A BOTTLE OF WATER RIGHT NOW

[mourntheantagonist]

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!! It’s Finally the Day to share my piece for the @harringroveheart-on !! (If you didn’t already see it posted on ao3 yesterday)I went with the prompt: secret admirer!! enjoy some flangst and have a wonderful day whether you celebrate the holiday or not!! ❤️

Fortunately

read on ao3

***

Billy needs a job.

He’s two months fresh out of the hospital but that doesn’t matter. The local pool was closed for the winter and Neil was adamant that he get out and find work as soon as he was able to walk, despite the fact that he could only do so for only short periods at a time.

And he’s forced to take what he can get. January wasn’t the best time of year to be looking for work in Hawkins. He told himself he’d apply at any place with a help wanted sign displayed in their window. And he did. Application after application. Stellar fucking resume. The only problem was that not many people were looking to hire on the guy who looked just minutes away from death each time they saw him. Didn’t want to put the guy with the hideous scars and the sickly frame in front of customers. Though, they’d usually let him off with the same similar speech about how he “just wasn’t what they were looking for.”

Luckily for Billy, there was one place that was just as desperate as he was. Li’s Kitchen. The local Chinese restaurant that had just needed to make several layoffs to keep themselves from closing. They quickly hired him on to wash dishes in the back because he was ready and willing to work for minimum wage. Making just $3.35 an hour, it was enough and at least it got Neil off of his back.

So he’d haul his ass into work every day on the dot. Walking the full half-mile distance through snowy paths to the restaurant since the Camaro was still out of commission. Trudging along, praying he didn’t slip because his ribs were still fragile and just a simple impact of a good fall could break them again. The walk was simply exhausting. By the time he’d enter through those double doors and set off the bell hung above, he’d be completely out of breath and exhausted and his shift hadn’t even started yet. But fortunately it was just washing dishes. How hard could it be?

Apparently. Pretty fucking hard for a guy who could hardly stand up straight. The heat radiating from the hot steam of the water making him lightheaded almost instantaneously. The boiling hot water against his arms and hands sending him back to those days flayed out in the sun as the ultraviolet rays burned through the skin. The liquid dripping from his face that he couldn’t differentiate from steam or sweat taking him back to the sauna. Feeling his insides heat up and burn like fire inside his gut. Trapped in a prison that was his own body. He just wanted to crawl into a bucket of ice.

His only saving grace was that this time it was winter, and he wasn’t actually flayed. Just overheated and weak. He'd take his breaks behind the restaurant digging his feet into deep snow and letting the chill breeze cool him down. Lighting up a cigarette to get his body to an equilibrium of hot and cold. But the good feeling only lasted as long as he stood outside, immediately getting the same sick to his stomach feeling as soon as he walked back in. Hunched over the sink in the kitchen just trying to move fast enough and stay standing.

He figured he was lucky enough to get the job, that he couldn’t afford to disappoint, because then he’d be entirely out of options. Unemployed and still stuck under his father’s roof on Cherry Lane, this time accompanied by a deeper rage. If Billy didn’t have a job to get to, Neil would have no reason to hold back anything. No reason not to leave bruises or cuts. But it was getting harder and harder as the days progressed. Never enough time in the day to rest and recover enough to brave the next one. He was running on borrowed energy and excessive amounts of caffeine.

There came a moment when he nearly passed out into the sink full of porcelain plates. His breathing became shallow as his vision got blurry and dark. His head spun and his balance faltered and he needed a fucking drink of water.

One of the servers caught him just before he was about to go down. A man older than him but not by much. Same build as him before the accident but easily with an additional five inches on him. Billy was probably at least ten pounds lighter now that a bulk of his muscle had wasted away in that hospital bed. Making him easy to catch.

“You look like shit hargrove.” is what the man says, but Billy barely registers it because everything is muffled. The sounds of running water into the metal sink being the loudest noise he can hear. The man tosses one of Billy's arms over his shoulder and hauls him into the break room. Billy’s doing exactly zero of the work. Letting his legs fall limp and his feet drag against the tile floor. He sits him down in one of the metal chairs and hands him a small cup of water from the jug. “Drink you’re dehydrated” he says, tilting the bottom of the cup upwards so that it’s forced into Billy's mouth and down his throat. “The dinner rush is almost out, I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes, you just stay in here and try not to pass out again, sound like a plan?”

Billy nods his head and drinks the rest of the water in the cup before letting his head fall into his hands and his eyes fall shut as he tries to regain his composure. Cool himself down and slow his heart rate.

By the time his coworker — Zachary, he remembers — comes back into the break room he’s better. Not quite ready to get back to the sink and the hot steam cloud that comes with his job, but better.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten kid?” Kid. Sounds really odd coming from someone who could be no older than thirty.

“I had toast this morning.” Billy hadn’t actually been eating much lately. Not finding the time in the day to sit down to have a meal in between work and recovering from said work. His hours conflicted with family dinner so he was left to fend for himself. Neil made it very clear that what was in the cupboards did not belong to him. So all he had to his name was a single loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter.

“Well guess what. It’s closing time and you’re not leaving here without a meal. So go sit down at one of the tables and pick anything you want from the menu.” Does Billy have pride? Yes. But is his stomach turning and his mouth watering at just the thought of some orange chicken? Also yes. So instead of arguing with him about how he can take care of himself, which is debatable at this point, he just says thank you and finds himself a table in the corner. He doesn’t expect Zachary to follow him all the way there and sit down right across from him.

“Don’t worry about paying. My dad will cook it up for free.”

Oh right. Zachary Li... The owner’s son.

And suddenly things went from awkward to outright uncomfortable for Billy. Because he was sitting here eating dinner with another man who would be footing the bill. Sure, Zachary was just his coworker and in his mind the exchange had absolutely no weight to it, but to billy it was so fucking heavy. The thought of Neil barging in to see the display and not giving two seconds to read the situation before he started throwing punches. Because it didn’t matter if it was a date or just dinner with a coworker. If it looked a certain way, then that’s how it was.

But the other thing was he couldn’t just get up now. Not without an explanation. So he sucked it up and said he’d have the orange chicken, earning a scowl followed by a laugh and a nod because of course he’d order that and none of the authentic chinese food dishes. But then he ordered the same thing because they both have fallen victim to american colonization.

And chef Li made a damn good orange chicken.

And this one did not disappoint. But it’s not like he really had the chance to taste it since he was too busy inhaling it. Finishing his entire plate before Zachary had even made a dent. And Billy was slightly embarrassed by it. But zachary said nothing. Just continued with his own meal without acknowledging that Billy had scarfed his own down in no time at all. Making other dry conversation with Billy and constantly refilling his water glass with the pitcher every time it got below half full.

When he’s just about finished is when chef Li brings out a small plate with fortune cookies sitting on top, one for each of them. They each take their own and crack them open.

“What’s it say? I got an inch of time is an inch of gold for the thousandth time. I swear elizabeth is getting lazy with these”

Billy looks down at his, and can’t help but laugh.

“A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life.”

Hahaha. Hilarious.

“Well then we better hope that these things come true. Though I have a lot of time and have not seen any gold fall into my lap yet.” he laughs and pops the cookie into his mouth, Billy does the same. “Hey dad, you gonna open one?”

“Sure.” he says. Pulling one from the container in the back and breaking it open quite aggressively. “Allow compassion to guide your decisions. Boring.”

They both just laugh. But then Zachary gets this weird look in his eyes. “Hey dad? What if Billy made the fortune cookies instead?”

“Who would wash the dishes?”

Zachary just shot him a look. Yeah, Billy's medical condition and clear exhaustion didn’t go unnoticed by the staff. That must have been what that look meant.

“Read that fortune again, Dad.”

He looks down at the slip of the paper in his hand and almost instantly tosses it to the floor.

“You’re a pain in my ass Zach. alright then Billy, you available in the mornings? I can have Elizabeth show you the ropes tomorrow and if you’re any good you won’t have to wash dishes anymore. That will be my ungrateful son's job.”

“Hey-“

“No ‘hey’ nothing. Have compassion, remember?” he swats Zach with the towel that hung over his shoulder.

Billy just stayed silent for the whole exchange. Only nodding his head when asked if he was free in the mornings. He wanted to tell them to fuck off. To tell them he could do his job perfectly fine. A bold faced lie, but still. However, he also recognized that he couldn’t continue the way he was going. He was three shifts away from an ambulance ride to the emergency room, and that would just piss off Neil further.

So instead of speaking up, he silently agreed, and suddenly found himself walking the same distance he did every day, this time at seven in the morning when the rest of his house was still asleep. Another bonus. Less he had to see Neil, the better. And he’d be home in time for family dinner, the only meal he was welcome to join. And as much as he hated sitting across the table from his Dad, Susan's cooking served as a pleasant enough distraction.

Liz gladly showed him how to make the cookies. Constantly expressing how much she hated making them and is happily giving up the job to billy. That didn’t make him feel too great about it.

But then it really wasn’t bad. Just tedious. Slightly boring and mindless. Made his hands ache after a couple hours of folding the fortunes and squeezing out the batter, but it was ten times less painful than doing the dishes. He got to make them while sitting down at a table before the place even opened. No crowded kitchen or hot running water. The only heat he experienced came from opening and closing the oven, and that only happened for seconds at a time.

And the best part.

He got to make the fortunes.

Typing out several sheets of sample fortunes on a typewriter, cutting them into slips using the paper guillotine. It was definitely strange they never bothered to check his work. They had way too much trust in a guy like Billy to write fortunes. Free will to throw anything in there.

Did he ever veer away from the script posted to the wall? No. But the fact that he could was so funny to him.

He never once considered he would actually want to throw something else into those fortune cookies, until that first tuesday in the middle of his shift right as they opened for lunch and he saw a familiar figure enter through the glass doors into the restaurant. Bell chiming behind him. Craning his head upwards so he could get a closer look he recognizes Steve, picking up a to-go order still wearing the dark green family video vest. Steve didn’t even notice him. Just grabbed his white paper bag, dropped the bill on the counter, and walked out the door. Flashing a smile at Liz who was up running the counter.

But Billy, he saw Steve. He stared at Steve for the duration of his time in the store because he was totally and completely whipped. Totally entranced for long enough that the cookies he was folding had already hardened, and Zach was giving him a weird look when Billy visibly shook at the sound of the bell chiming for the second time, pulling him from the trance.

“So harrington, huh? He’s your fortune?”

Billy got all wide eyed and jerked his head to the right to look at him. Completely zoned out and unprepared to defend himself, instead just stuttering out a string of nonsensical “I”s and “no”s and “it’s not”s. Failing miserably to get the lies past his tongue.

“Relax dude. I don’t really give a shit. Elizabeth, however, might. Girl doesn’t stop talking my ear off about you.”

But that just goes in one ear and out the other. Billy still continues to stutter out as best of a denial he can but his heart is racing, his stomach is churning, his palms are sweating, and the cookies are burning!

“Shit.” it’s the first full sentence he’s been able to get out. Rushing over to the oven and pulling out the hot pan of nearly completely blackened circles.

And Zach is just standing there laughing. Waving the smoke out of his face as Billy tries to blow out the miniature fire he caused on one of the cookies.

“Still gonna try and deny it?” he says.

“Fuck off. Seriously.”

Zach just backs away. Hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my own business. Lover boy.”

Billy promptly tosses one of the finished cookies at his face. “Whatever you think you saw. Keep it to your fucking self, alright?”

“Got it. Loud and clear.” But he’s still fucking giggling and Billy is currently contemplating murder. Eyes darting to the array of knives in close reach. Shakes the feeling. Killing the boss's son probably wouldn’t look good on evaluation.

Did he tell anyone? No. Did he tease billy relentlessly about it every fucking day. Of course he fucking did. Especially on days Steve walked into the restaurant for a to-go order. Nudging him in the arm with a little “Guess who’s here?” in a sing-songy voice.

And to think Billy thought having someone know and not crucify him would be a good thing. He'd rather he just hate crime him behind the restaurant instead of the constant, and I mean constant, ribbing.

Eventually moving on from teasing behind the wall of the kitchen to suggesting he go out and take the payment to actually pushing him out the swinging doors to do it. “Talk him up Hargrove. Put on the moves.”

There were no moves. But there was a conversation. A good one. A nice one. They just talked about themselves and caught up. Not really seeing much of each other once he was out of the hospital. Only having seen Steve in passing on days he’d bring max by for visiting hours. But they never actually talked much during that time. He’d come up to the room with her saying “Thought it’d be nice to see another familiar face.”

And it was.

Billy was not paying much attention to this conversation. Answering Steve's questions and asking his own, but he was definitely distracted by how close their hands were to each other, both rested on the counter, supporting themselves. If you asked Billy after the conversation what they talked about, he could only recall two things. One; he works at family video, not really substantial. And two; he said he looked good.

“You look good Billy.”

Yup, Billy was completely gone.

So maybe the constant teasing wasn’t completely terrible. Especially now that he’s given him such a stupid stupid stupid idea that he’s one hundred percent going to go through with because it’s about fucking time he wrote some fortunes of his own. He had several typed out and ready to be placed into a cookie whenever they received another call for an order for ‘Harrington.’ The first one was innocent enough. Pulled straight off the list of sample fortunes.

“You always bring others happiness.”

Just something simple. He just saw it on the list and it made him smile. Thought it would be nice to see Steve smile too.

The next few were similar to that one. Pulled straight off of the list but tailored specifically toward Steve.

“You are working hard.”

“Have a beautiful day.”

“You look pretty.”

But that last one was different. Because on the back of the last one he wrote in ballpoint pen.

- The cookie maker ♡

And that’s when it became a thing that they were both aware of. Now it was a romantic gesture and not just an act of kindness or a series of coincidental fortunes. Now steve was on the lookout for who made the fortunes at Li’s kitchen, but at the same time trying to keep the mystery alive so that the fortunes would keep coming.

Billy started writing out his own.

“I like your hair.”

“You have a terrific ass.”

“Somebody’s got a crush on you.”

Zach wrote that last one.

Then they got deeper.

“You make me happy when I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You make the pain go away.”

Steve never failed to blush at each and every fortune with the signature heart on the back.

But it was dragging on. And Steve was getting impatient. Started to ask around, eventually learning that robin had seen Elizabeth Li making them one time.

Elizabeth Li is sixteen. Absolutely not.

And now he feels bad for letting it drag on this long. Taking himself to the restaurant to let her down gently. When he walks through, Billy is standing behind the counter. Confused because he didn’t usually order on Wednesdays, and especially not this late in the day.

Was that a weird thing to know?

“Do you have an order to pick up?” Billy asks.

“No. Not today. I was actually hoping I could talk to Elizabeth, is she around?”

And Billy's heart just sinks to the floor. The slight smile that was on his face now completely gone and shattered to pieces.

“Yeah. I’ll go get her.” he says, with a heavy heart, disappointment clear in his voice.

He sends her out to the front and lingers in the back, ear pressed to the door trying to listen in like some creep.

“Look, elizabeth. I’m really flattered and I appreciate the fortune cookies, but you’re way too young for me. I’m sorry.”

Shit.

Is Billy supposed to be worried or relieved?

He can’t even see her face but he knows she’d be giving him her death stare right about now.

He can hear her say it through clenched teeth and he shouldn’t find it so funny but it is.

“Yeah. Okay, sorry about that. I’ll definitely stop doing that. Have a good day Steve.” And she just walks away from the counter and Billy barely jumps backwards in time to not get a door slammed in his face.

“You better fucking fix this Hargrove. I am not going to go down for this for you.”

Zach had just walked into the kitchen from the break room. Chef Li and the rest of the staff are just minding their own business.

“What did I miss?”

Elizabeth is all up in Billy’s personal space. Inches away from his chest looking up at him from her height of just five feet and three inches.

“Steve fucking Harrington thinks I’m his little secret admirer.”

Her face is red in anger but Zach’s is red from laughing so hard.

“Now that’s fucking funny.”

“If you don’t tell Steve, I will. I covered for you out of the kindness of my heart, but I’m not that kind.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“Shut up Zach!”

Zach was laughing. Billy however, was suddenly not. Head now bowed, sighing heavily.

“I can’t do that.” It was a quiet and sudden change of tone that altered the mood of the situation entirely. The only people who could hear were just the three of them because the sound couldn’t overpower the noises of chopping vegetables and the clanking of pots and pans and the sizzle of cooking meat.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you. You know why.”

“Well what was your plan Romeo?! Were you just never going to tell him?” she threw her hands in the air like he was being ridiculous. The only thing that was ridiculous was that he ever went through with it in the first place.

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t fucking know.”

Zach came up from behind him and offered a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Look dude, my little sister is a bitch but she’s right. You have to tell him. I’ll have your back when you do.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?” Billy jerks his head back down to look at Liz.

“Tell him. Tomorrow.” Her arms were crossed and she clearly wasn’t taking a no for an answer.

“Fuck the both of you. My shift is over.” Billy pushed past her and out of the restaurant. Leaving his jacket behind and walking home through the cold weather. His converse getting wet from the slushy snow, soaking through to his socks making him even colder all over. He’s internally freaking out and his heart would be beating out of his chest if his nervous system wasn’t operating at a decreased rate due to potential hypothermia.

He can’t even think. Just kicking his feet against the wet pavement letting the breeze take him over. If he dies, he doesn’t have to tell him.

Headlights pass him by as he slowly walks the distance home, nobody caring about the guy who cheated death just months ago inching closer back to that point instead of further away. Nobody stops to offer him a ride or even check to see if he’s okay, and he’s not even sure if he even wants to make it home. It would be preferable to just fall asleep in one of the bushes outside than having to make his day even worse by introducing Neil into it. Sitting at a dinner table, making nice and pretending like everything that was going well for him won’t come to an end twenty four hours from now. All the joy of making those little fortune cookies and just imagining the look on Steve’s face every time. The look he knew for sure was one of happiness despite never seeing it because it wasn’t a coincidence Steve’s lunch orders became more and more frequent.

But in his peripheral a set of headlights did seem to slow. That was either a sign he was meeting his savior, or potentially his kidnapper. Honestly at this point they are the same thing.

“Billy?”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Hey Harrington.” His teeth are chattering and his voice is shaky as he says it. Is it the cold? Or are his nerves finally beginning to work at the worst time possible?

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Walking home.”

“You’ll die out here.”

“If only.” He says it under his breath but Steve still hears it. Letting the car come to a complete stop rather than the slow pacing he was doing before.

“Get in. I’ll take you home.”

Billy just waves him off. “I’ll be fine on my own.” And he continues walking at his slow pace.

“I wasn’t fucking asking. Get the hell in Hargrove. Before I drag you in here.”

Billy stops and sighs. Kicking more slush into the air. “Fine.”

He walks around to the passenger side and lowers himself into the seat. Groaning as his body aches from the motion. Steve doesn’t acknowledge it. Just puts the car back into drive and heads towards Cherry Lane. Silence in the car as Billy breathes into his hands trying to warm them up. He’s pale. Looks like he’s never seen the sun before. His face is flushed. Even in the state like this Steve carries the same sentiment from that first conversation at the restaurant.

“You look good, Billy.”

He doesn’t say that. But he’s thinking it.

They eventually pull up to the white house with the screened in porch, and Billy grows visibly tense in his seat. He’s not moving. Just darting his eyes from the clock in the car and back to the house with the lights on.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks. But Billy’s eyes continue to move back and forth as his breathing quickens slightly more as each second ticks by. Showing no sign that he heard the words that came out of Steve’s mouth. He reaches over the center console and grabs his hand. “Hey.”

Billy looks over like a deer in the headlights. Eyes ever so slightly glossy. Clearing his throat he tries to speak.

“Can you take me somewhere else?” He asks.

He doesn’t want to go home. Can’t begin to even think about seeing his Dad today. He just wants to crawl under his covers and go to sleep. Dream of a reality that isn’t his own. Not this fucked up shit show he’s stupidly gotten himself into.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here?”

Neither of them realize Steve is still holding his hand. Not until he squeezes it tighter, recognizing the pain in Billy’s voice. Not for what it meant but just that it was there. He didn’t need to nor want to know why Billy didn’t want to go home. Just wanted to make it so he didn’t have to.

“Is my house okay?”

Billy hesitates, but nods.

And they turn the car around.

- : -

Billy wakes up the next morning on Steve’s couch to the sound of a microwave’s hum followed by a loud ‘ding’ that echoes off the walls. He just remembers walking through the door of Steve’s house and immediately laying down on the first soft surface he could find. Remembers Steve saying he’d be upstairs if he needed anything before quickly drifting off into sleep without a care in the world.

He went to sleep without a pillow and a blanket, and woke up with both.

Billy rubs away at his eyes while Steve enters the living room from the kitchen with two plates in his hands.

“I made you a hot pocket if you want one.” He sets the plate onto the coffee table before he takes a seat in the chair beside the couch. Billy sits himself up and takes the plate, cooling it off with a quick blow of his breath before biting into it. “You have work today?”

“Yeah, at eight. What time is it?”

“Only seven fifteen. I have to be in at eight thirty so I can drop you off if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s seriously not a problem man, and no offense but you don’t look like you’d make the walk from here to there.”

Billy laughs.

“I thought you said I looked good.”

Shit. It’s weird that he remembers that.

But Steve blushes. “Well yeah, just not ‘two mile hike’ good. But you’ll get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you working anyway? Shouldn’t you still be recovering?”

Billy frowns. “My Dad is making me.”

Oh. That’s why he doesn’t want to go home.

The situation is awkward now. Silent as they finish their breakfasts and drive off in the Beemer. Pulling up outside the restaurant fifteen minutes before his shift starts. Billy suddenly reminded of what he’s supposed to do today as soon as he looks at the sign out front.

“Uh, hey. Listen. Come by the restaurant for to-go. On me y’know, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to-“

Billy cuts him off.

“Yes. I do.”

- : -

When Billy walks into the kitchen in the same clothes as yesterday nobody says anything. Nothing about his undone hair or his or his early arrival to work. Instead he’s met with apologies exiting the mouths of the two Li children as they corner him in the break room.

“We’re sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t fair for us to do that to you. Elizabeth said she won’t tell Steve.”

They were waiting for him to yell, or at the very least get his anger out some way.

But instead Billy smiled. Barely there with just the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth but it was there, so distinct from his natural grimace. “It’s fine.” He says.

Zachary and Elizabeth are entirely confused. Looking in between each other like ‘did you just see what I just saw?’

“What has you so chipper?”

His smile just grew slightly wider.

“Spent the night at Steve’s last night.”

The two’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“You what!?” They both said in unison.

“Jesus! Not like that. I just slept on his couch.”

Billy could see the cogs turning in each of their heads. Trying to figure everything out like it was some complicated math problem. “I think I’m going to tell him. Today.”

“Really?”

Billy nodded, threw on his skull cap, and left the dumbfounded siblings where they stood. He had a fortune to write, and cookies to bake.

He was so meticulous this time. Making sure they were perfectly round circles, folded exactly in half. Throwing nonsense fortunes into each one. Avoiding the one sitting by itself on the table beside him. Too afraid to throw it into a cookie, each time he tossed in another basic off the list fortune was just Billy trying to talk himself out of it.

But he inches closer and closer to reaching the point of no return. First by putting in Steve’s lunch order. Next by finally slipping the fortune into a cookie. Next by slipping the cookie into Steve’s bag, and finally at the strike of noon, handing the bag to Steve, insisting he pay for it while Billy continuously denies him. Telling him to go enjoy his meal and stop arguing with him.

When Steve walked out the door Billy thought he could stop holding his breath. But he couldn’t let it out. Thought the anticipation lied with handing the meal to Steve, now feeling his breath caught even more now that he had. It was the anticipation of not knowing. He had to know.

But Steve left with the cookie still intact.

So he had to wait.

- : -

Steve brought his lunch into Family Video. The same thing he always ordered. Feeling a warm sensation in his chest at the knowledge that Billy knew his order. Fried rice and soup dumplings. Robin was there, waiting to mooch off of his food since she never bothered to bring her own lunch, but would also refuse to let Steve buy her anything.

If he didn’t know any better he’d think she liked him.

But he did know better not even to entertain that idea. She was just the girl who liked to eat Steve’s food because that’s just what she did. She’s standing there with her grabby hands, ready to start digging into his rice. She peruses through the contents of the bag and pulls out the plastic containers and the one fortune cookie that he always got.

“Did you let her down easy?” Robin asks, waving the cookie in his face.

“Yes. She was weird about it. But I guess she took it well.”

“Well that’s good. Can I have this one then?”

“Sure. Go for it. I don’t like them all that much anyway. I just like them for the fortunes.”

“Well then let’s see what Steve Harrington’s fortune is today, shall we?”

Robin cracks it open and gently pulls the slip of paper out from inside. Popping the cookie into her mouth as she pulls it taut so she can read it.

Her eyes squint. She pulls it closer to her face, just inches away like she can’t see what she’s reading. Like she’s confused.

“What’s it say?”

“Umm.” She just shakes her head. Mouth still full with the fortune cookie as she passes it along to Steve.

He takes it from her hesitantly, and a look of confusion washes over his face as he reads the words.

“I’m not Elizabeth Li.”

“What?” He says it mostly to himself, because what the fuck?

He turns it over and is expecting to see the same little signature. The vague ‘the cookie maker’ with the tiny heart.

Well the heart is still there.

But it says something else.

- Billy ♡

“Holy shit.”

- : -

It’s a painstakingly long rest of his shift. Doing the same old boring jobs like cleaning up, manning the front counter, and bussing tables when he’d finished the daily batch of cookies. It usually felt like a long five hours, but today it was excruciating. He could feel Zach and Liz’s eyes on him the whole time. Like they were watching intently so they didn’t miss the moment where he inevitably exploded from all the anxiety in his chest.

Billy’s constantly playing out different scenarios in his head. Steve barging into the store and punching him in the face being the one that’s the most prevalent. Occasionally letting himself get slightly hopeful and imagining the opposite.

But there was a third scenario he considered. That Steve just wouldn’t come back at all. Let him down by not even bringing him up. Robbing him of the closure he needs. He’d rather Steve just punch him in the face. That was a kind of rejection he could handle. One that gave him a reason to let go. Not one that left him hanging on by a single thread.

His shift is quickly coming to an end and he’s debating on how desperate he is to wait and linger around the restaurant with his small shred of hope that he comes back. His neck hurts from jerking his head towards the door every time the bell chimed. Hoping to see the boy with the chestnut hair walk through only to be greeted by another local he refused to learn the name of.

He’s losing his goddamn mind and he needs a fucking cigarette.

His shift comes to an end and he clocks out. Escaping to the back of the restaurant behind the dumpsters, lighting up a Marlboro Red and sinking his weight against the brick siding of the building. Feeling himself shiver when the heat of the flame warms the tip of his nose. Breathing in the smoke trying to regain some sense of calm that completely left his body as soon as he handed the bag to Steve. Too many hours on this high alert feeling that he can’t even recall what relaxation feels like anymore. Just accepts the burning in his lungs in the cold outside weather with just the hum of low traffic and the sound dripping gutters as the closest thing he’s going to get to that for the time being.

Finishing his cigarette, he tosses the bud into a puddle. Dragging a hand over his face as he prepares to walk back into the crowded restaurant that would feel completely empty because it was lacking the one fucking person he wanted to see.

He could go see him.

No he couldn’t. The ball already was in Steve’s court.

He opens the door and Zach is standing right there like he was waiting for him.

“What the fuck dude?”

“No. Shut up. Someone is in the break room waiting for you.”

Billy doesn’t get the chance to register his words before he’s being grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged and pushed into the room, where Steve is sitting at the table.

Just looking at him. Studying him.

“Look, Steve –“

“Stop.” He cuts him off. Continues to stare before hesitantly reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out what looks to be a ziplock plastic bag. Opening it and dumping the contents of it out on the table all while Billy is left standing there unable to speak, couldn’t even if Steve would let him. The ability to get words out being entirely suppressed by the sight of about ten slips of paper spread out on the table in front of Steve. Steve just looking back down at them and not looking back at Billy. Lost in another trance. He starts moving them around on the table. Moving them away from each other so that none are touching each other and they are all completely exposed. Steve smiles. Gets up from the chair.

Walks over to where Billy stands with his back pressed against the door, holding tightly to the handle for a quick escape. Steve moves so slowly, like he’s forging his plan with each step until their chests are just inches away from each other. Steve’s looking down, away from Billy’s gaze. Taking Billy’s hand in his, causing him to shudder. “You know I rushed over as soon as I could. Thanks for the lunch Billy.” Billy’s just silent and completely still against the door. Steve’s hold on him is loose yet he feels entirely restrained. “I can’t believe it was you.”

“I’m sorry.” Billy practically chokes on the words, prompting Steve to finally turn his eyes up toward him. Seeing how his eyes have grown glossy and his face has turned a pinkish color.

“What for?”

“That it was me.”

Steve squeezes his hand tighter, brings another to Billy’s cheek gently and Billy feels like he’s being suffocated under the touch. Like instead the hand is wrapped around his throat and pushing against his airway. But he leans into it. Steve’s touch is so soft and he lets his eyes fall shut to burn the sensation into his memory.

“Don’t apologize for that.”

His eyes are still closed when Steve moves forward and kisses him. Shooting open as soon as lips make contact and he suddenly stiffens like a board. It’s quick and chaste and he doesn’t get the opportunity to kiss back before it’s over.

“You can’t… you don’t –“

“But I do.”

“This isn’t a joke, Steve.”

“I agree.”

Billy’s left standing there. Rubbing at his lips that were just touching Steve with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Steve smirks, moves back into Billy’s space so his breath is hot against his mouth.

“You could kiss me, asshole.”

Billy doesn’t need to be asked twice.

[hey-hamlet]

20! Izuku overworks himself trying to live up to bring All Might's successor and Aizawa helps him after he collapses

“If he’s sleeping soundly without the help of anaesthesia, then he’s not working hard enough.”

  7pm on a Sunday and no one had seen Midoriya. Shouta scrubbed his face, trying to decide if he should just go start looking now or wait for curfew. Yagi had been fretting in the kitchen for just shy of two hours – he’d reminded the man it was fully within Midoriya’s right to use his day off how he saw fit and that it wasn’t even curfew yet, but admittedly he was starting to get a little tense himself. Giving in to the quiet, fretting voice in the back of his mind, he cracked open his laptops. As a homeroom teacher, he had access to the records of where any of his students had used their keycards, mostly in case he needed to know where they were in an emergency. This was technically an abuse of power but Nezu would understand; this class was cursed.

Irritatingly enough, sorting by student wasn’t something the program had the ability to do. Shouta settled himself in for a few painful minutes of scrolling through numbers until he found Midoriya’s ID. It hurt his eyes.

He’d underestimated the amount his kids used their cards. Yagi has somehow made his way over, anxiously clutching a cup of tea, made Shouta his own cup, paced around the perimeter of the dorms and come back and he still hadn’t found any sign of Midoriya’s keycard. If Yagi hadn’t checked the kid’s room he was going to gut the man – what was left of him anyway.

Finally, the very first scan of the day. The first four digits of Midoriya’s ID were different enough to use them in place of the whole thing, at least when narrowed down to his class. 4am on the dot, his card was used to gain access to one of the smaller training gyms on the edge of the campus.

Shouta felt his eyebrow rise to meet his hairline. That couldn’t be right.

“Aizawa, did you find something?” His face must have twisted if Yagi had noticed in his worry.

“I did but –“ He trailed off, clicking on the build’s code. The program couldn’t sort by students, but you could sort by building. Midoriya’s code sat there, alone. The only student to gain access that day.

And he still hadn’t swiped out.

Fifteen hours later.

“But?” Yagi pressed, craning his ridiculously long neck over Shouta’s shoulder. Shouta sighed, shutting his laptop.

“I’m pretty sure the system is bugged, It's throwing some weird data. I’m going to check the last place his card scanned, you wait here. I’m pretty sure he’d just been somewhere late and he’ll wander back in wondering why you were so worried.”

“Why do you think it’s bugged?” A hint of All Might’s steel rang through Yagi’s voice.

“It says the kid hasn’t left the one building for 15 hours, so unless he fell asleep around noon and still hasn’t woken up? I’m going to guess something’s fucked up.” With that, he slipped out the door, striding towards the gym.

It was on the very edge of campus, something Shouta himself hadn’t known about until he’d joined the staff roster himself. It was a holdover from before UA had become the well-funded establishment it was now, back when it had just been a normal high school trying to teach their quirked students how not to get killed. As a result, it was much smaller than any of the other training facilities UA had to offer, but it was pretty well stocked, and as a result of its status, private.

The perfect place for someone to train themselves beyond the point any other functional human would demand they stop.

Shouta picked up the pace.

  A light was on in the window. Shouta swore. He pulled out his keycard, fumbling with the weirdly retrofitted lock. It clicked open and he slipped inside, all but jogging into the heart of the building. There, slumped and pale against the wall, was Midoriya. Sweat rolled down the kids brow and stained his clothes. Dark bruises laced his arms, something that looked like blood stained the edges of his shirt sleeves.

Shouta rushed to his side, hand slipping reflexively to the kid’s wrist to feel for a pulse. It was there, but fast and thready. He pressed a hand to Midoriya’s forehead, eye’s widening. He was hot, far too hot. His eyes fluttered open, eyes taking a second too long to focus.

Quirk exhaustion, heat stress, dehydration, low blood sugar, contusions on his lower arms with possible hidden lacerations Shouta’s mind catalogued, his heart sinking with each realisation. The kid was wrecked. And he’d done it to himself.

“Sensei?” Midoriya near croaked, “what are you doing here?”

Shouta blinked incredulously. “What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing here?” Midoriya looked so innocently confused Shouta thought he might scream.

“Training-“

“Bullshit,” Shouta growled, suppressing the flash of guilt that rose at Midoriya’s flinch “You’ve been here for 15 hours. You aren’t training, you’re destroying yourself. You’ll burn out before you even reach second year, let alone become a hero.”

Midoriya’s eye’s darkened, a hint of steel surfacing in his hazy eyes. “But I need to train! I’m not –“

“Not what? Not All Might? Fuck, of course you aren’t; you’re sixteen.” Shouta ran a shaky hand through his hair. “You’re just sixteen, kid. Leave the weight of the world on shoulders broad enough to hold it ok?” Midoriya’s eyes started to water, and Shouta felt his own begin to join him, despite his own protests. A faint part of him wondered how Midoriya had enough water left in his tiny body to cry.

Shouta straightened himself before hauling Midoriya onto his back with a huff of exertion. Midoriya tried to protest.

“It’s either this or bridal style. Pick one.”

He shut up.

 The walk back to the dorms was longer with a kid on his back. He could feel Midoirya’s grip slacken occasionally, before a particularly jolting step woke him. Shouta would be more than happy to let the kid sleep once he had something to drink, maybe even got some IV fluids, but until then he was a little afraid that if Midoriya fell asleep he wouldn’t be able to wake him up. Just out of sight of the dorms Midoriya abruptly slumped against him. Shouta felt cold.

“Midoriya? I need to you wake up, kid.” He shook him gently. Nothing. Shouta broke into a jog.

Yagi was already waiting by the door, his dark eyes widening a he took in his kid slumped on Shouta’s back. He opened the door for Shouta before quickly dialling what he assumed to be Recovery Girl. The few student’s in the common room stopped milling around, turning to their teacher and unconscious classmate with wide eyes. Shouta lay him across the couch,  hand reaching for a pulse once again.

“Uraraka, Iida: I need some water, towels and ice packs, can you do that for me?” The students in question shook themselves out of there stupor, Uraraka rushing off to the kitchen and Iida to the linen cupboard. They were back in a flash, followed by an anxious Yagi.

“Is Deku ok?” Uraraka sounded calm, maybe the slightest bit nervous, but Shouta had known her long enough to see the trembles in her arms as she held the water and ice. He sighed, making a conscious effort to even out the worry on his own face.

“He’ll be fine.” The two students and one teacher gave identical sighs of relief. “He just overworked himself and gave himself a touch of heatstroke and dehydration. You two should get to bed.”

“But it’s not even curfew-“ Iida started, clearly worried for his friend. Uraraka broke in, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Lets, let's go, ok? We’ll talk to Deku later.” Iida’s eyes flickered from Yagi to Shouta before he seemed to reach a conclusion.

“That sounds… reasonable.” The two students turned, hurrying out of the room. Shouta turned his eyes to Yagi, poorly hidden irritation the students had picked up on flaring up like a grease fire.

“Now, Yagi.” He ground out, teeth creaking in his jaw. “Can you tell me why a kid seems to think he needs to be the next symbol of peace before he’s even out of high school”

[naturalbornsnickerdoodle]

Saturday night fever

I'm currently with a fever, and since I couldn't sleep I thought I'd write a story about Harry taking care of the reader to pass the time.

I hope you enjoy!

Ps. The title is trash I know.

Warnings: some swear words.

Y/N was pretty excited to see Harry after so long. Both had been caught up with work lately and he went on a business trip to discuss tour dates, TV interviews, and who knows! Perhaps even a new album.

Y/N was going to surprise Harry after picking him up from the airport. She bought his favorites snacks, would prepare his favorite dish for dinner, got the TV room ready to watch a RomCom, and she even shaved. You know...just in case.

It was morning, his flight would land by 7 PM, so Y/N had plenty of time to get the things she needed, go to work, and then bring him home. Or so she thought...

Her phone starts ringing while she was getting dressed for work, the screen lights up with the words "H ❤" and she answers.

Y/N: "Hi, baby! How's it going?"

Harry: "Hi, love. I'm alright. What about you?"

Y/N: "Oh, you know, pretty good. Been jumping up and down, cheering silently since I woke up *giggles* No biggie. What's up? Is your flight about to take off?"

Harry: "Actually, I have some bad news, button. They needed me here one more day, to see some business men down in San Diego. Label says it's important."

She stops putting on her shoes for a second. Then replies with a fake, slightly cheery voice.

Y/N: "Oh, I see!"

Harry: "I know. Good news is I'll leave tomorrow at the same time, same flight, and we'll see each other then, yeah?"

Y/N normally wouldn't get upset over something like this. She was understanding and would always assure him everything was okay. However, it's been a whole month of not seeing her boyfriend, and that could upset anyone, if you ask me.

Y/N: "Define good "

Harry: *he sighs* "Okay, maybe not the greatest of news I could deliver, but it's just one more day, love."

Y/N: "Oh yay, one more day. Woo hoo!" She said sarcastically.

Harry: "What's gotten into you? It's literally 24 more hours, Y/N."

Y/N: "Too many for my taste, Harry. But, hey! Thanks for trying to cheer me up. Didn't work."

Harry: "Y/N—"

Y/N: "You know what? I'm done talking to you. Have fun in all those meetings. Bye."

Harry: "Wait, bab—"

Y/N hangs up the phone before she got to hear the rest of his speech. And boy, was she upset. She tapped her fingers on the kitchen counter while taking deep breaths to calm herself down. She could only think about the nerve he had trying to see the bright side of this. Sometimes there was no brightside.

She couldn't get her mind off the following night. Plans ruined, they'd get home to a reheated dinner, and she'd have stubbly legs and private parts from almost 3 days of not shaving. Let's face it, she was too mad at him for that last part.

Finally, she snapped her head upwards and said "Fuck this", grabbed her car keys and headed for the door. Next thing you know, she was furiously tapping her phone screen, texting her friends to meet later at the pub.

Afternoon came along and after several failed attempts of Harry calling Y/N, aswell as texting her, she finally replied with "going out tonight" and a do not disturb emoji for an extra touch. That sure looked menacing. But Harry got that, and only replied with an "Okay, take care, yeah? Love you xx". A thumbs up would be the perfect reply, she thought. She hit Send.

At the pub, Y/N and her friends were ordering pint after pint, and then some questionable chili cheese fries since she'd gotten hungry. Needless to say it was a poor choice of snack.

Through the evening, she'd gotten a couple of texts from Harry asking if she was okay, and one around 5 am letting her know that he was going to the airport soon. She didn't reply to any of them, of course.

Fast forward to the next morning, Y/N woke up to the sunlight hitting her right in the face, as if he'd never shown his face in London before, the bastard, and with a thumping headache. Yup, this was going to be fun.

She had felt like crap the entire day. Didn't try to have breakfast 'cause she was too tired and nauseous, so she went back to sleep. At noon, she tried to have some tea and a sandwich but that only made her sick to her stomach, and ended up throwing it all up. It tasted like chili cheese fries and regrets. Emphasis on the regrets part.

At last, when the vomiting ceased, she washed it down with some mouthwash and grabbed her cup of tea to not dehydrate, then proceeded to try and get some sleep. Completely oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend was getting home that evening.

Harry's plane landed on time, but got worried after his girlfriend didn't reply to him all day that day, not even when he texted he'd landed safely. He got a private ride to get him back home, since she wasn't there to pick him up. Oh, he was in trouble, alright.

The ride parks outside their home, and Harry notices Y/N's car. "Thank god she's home!" He thinks to himself. He gets his suitcases, walks in only to find darkness. He turns on the lights and calls out for his girlfriend: "Y/N? You home?"

He walks upstairs and through their bedroom door only to find what he could only think was his girlfriend but in the form of a shivering ball. A trashcan on the floor, a cold cup of chamomile tea on the nightstand, and lots of baby wipes laid around the floor.

Harry gets closer to Y/N and sees her small face pale, sweating, and her whole body slightly shivering.

Harry: "Y/N? What happened, love?"

He touches her forehead and she's burning hot. God knows how long she's been with a fever. He'd like to think that's why she didn't reply to his texts earlier, not 'cause she was mad at him. One can dream.

Just then, she comes back to a semi conscious state and replies in a weak voice. Blinking slowly, barely opening her eyes.

Y/N: "Harry?"

Harry: "Yeah, button. The one and only."

Y/N: "Y-You-You're h-home" stuttering through her words.

Harry: "I am, and you're burning. Come on, let's check up on you. Did you take anything for the fever?"

Y/N: "No, I did-d-didn't know I had one, until n-now."

Harry: "That's alright, I'll take care of you, yeah?"

She could only reply with a soft and weak "okay". Then, Harry proceeded to take her temperature, 38.5 °C. No wonder why she was shivering. He left her side only to fetch her medicine and some water. Then, he continued to get a small bowl with ice water in it and a small towel. He also noticed she was sweating profusely, got her shirt all wet. He fetched fresh PJ's for her, wanting to replace the ones drenched in sweat.

Harry: "Can you sit up, love? I'll help you out of these in a second."

Y/N: "You trying to get in my p-pants, Styles?"

Harry: *smirks* "Me? Nah."

Y/N: "Go-Good. 'Cause I'm still m-mad at you."

Harry: "I'm very much aware of that, honey. Come on, arms up."

He changes her into a fresh t-shirt and discards the old one in the laundry basket.

Harry: "Good as new! Now, let's get that fever down. Here"

Harry gives her the tylenol they had in their first aid bag, she chugged it down with water, and then continued to put her on her back again.

Harry: "Alright, could you lay down for me, please? This cold towel will help you. There you go." He places the wet and cold towel on her forehead. He hears a big sigh coming out of her. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing slow. She shivered every now and then, grabbing her hand hopefully would make her feel better. And it did.

Harry only left her side to get more cold water for the towel, and to make her some chicken soup. Thank god he knows how to cook. When the soup is ready he wakes her up by kissing the back of her hand and playing softly with her hair.

Harry: "Hey, babe."

Y/N: "hm?"

Harry: "Hi there, love. Fancy some dinner? Made your favorite soup"

Y/N: *wide eyed* "of course!" She says in a raspy voice.

Harry: *giggles* "Okay, sit up for me please."

Y/N sits up and lays against the headboard. Then Harry places the tray they use for breakfast in bed, with the most delicious smelling plate of soup you could ever imagine. Lots of veggies and chopped chicken breasts. And the best part, it was made with love.

He'd pulled a chair next to their bed to sit beside her if she needed anything. She grabs her spoon and tries the soup out. The only thing coming from her lips are happy sounds. She really needed that.

Y/N: "It's delicious, as always. Maybe even better than the last time you made it"

Harry: "Proud to hear that. Gordon Ramsay who?"

They both laugh at his comment. Then, after a moment, Harry speaks.

Harry: "I'm sorry I canceled on you."

Y/N: "Oh, that's okay. Actually, I overreacted, too. I, I know how hard you work and how much you care for what you do. I just felt... overwhelmed. Cause I had the entire day planned out for us and then they make you stay one more day, and then-"

Harry: "I know, love." He takes her free hand on his own and squeezes it tight.

Y/N: *sighs* "What I mean is...I'm sorry, honey. For everything.

Harry: "Apology accepted. But you'll have to make it up to me for not answering my calls or texts earlier today. Had me very worried back there." He pinches her nose lightly between his thumb and index finger, making her blush.

Y/N: "Oh, shit. Right. Again, I'm sorry. How was your flight back, by the way? You must be so tired"

Harry: "Eh, it was alright. I'm used to them now. I just wanted to get home ASAP."

Y/N: "and now here you are stuck with a sick girl next to you."

Harry: "Yeah, how did I get so lucky?" *giggles*

Y/N: "Life can be funny like that sometimes, even if we're not laughing with it"

Harry: "True, but there's no other place I'd rather be."

They both smile at each other.

Harry: "So what did you do or eat to get this sick?"

Y/N: "Ugh. It was the beer and the cheese fries I had last night. Ew" She gets goosebumps from thinking about the goddamned fries.

Harry: *giggles* "Not the best of ideas, yeah?"

Y/N: "Not at all"

She finishes her soup, Harry puts the tray and plate aside, only to make her lay down again, change her cold towel one more time and go put on some PJ's and go around their bed to sleep next to her, it was already pretty late.

She tries to find his hand, grabs it and squeezes tight.

Y/N: "Thank you."

Harry: "For what?"

Y/N: "For checking up and taking care of me. Even if we were mad at each other"

Harry: "Hey, c'mere." Harry gets closer to Y/N and wraps his arm around her shoulder only to let her rest her head on his chest. She was still pretty cold anyway.

Harry: "I love you, I like taking care of you, hun. I know you'd do the same for me" he says with a smile. "except for the soup" *giggles*

Y/N: "Well, it's nice to see we agree on something"

They both laugh, say their I-love-you's and wish each other good night, slowly drifting to sleep.

The next Morning (reference is the gif above)

Harry grunts and feels a little too light for his taste. He opens his eyes only to see Y/N missing from her usual spot. He jumps from bed and starts calling out her name, looking for her in the bathroom and walk-in closet. His heart starts to slow down once she replies with a "Down here, in the kitchen!"

He finds Y/N making two cups of tea and toast.

Y/N: "Good morning, love!" She plants a quick kiss on his lips.

Harry: "Morning! Um, how are you feeling, button?"

Y/N: "Oh, a lot better than yesterday, for sure. Still a little light headed, but no biggie. Nothing a good breakfast can't fix.

Harry: "Here, let me help"

They chat over breakfast. They talk about the meetings he had, when he'd have to travel again and that she could accompany him this time.

After they're done with their meal, Harry urges Y/N to go back to bed.

Y/N: "Honey, I'm fine now. I'm sure a shower and then watching something on tv will be an even better cure.

Harry: "Oh no, you're not getting your way this time. Medicine, water and rest, doctor's orders, Y/N."

Y/N: "oh really? Who's gonna make me"

Harry: "That's it!" He jumps toward her and lifts her in his arms, carrying her upstairs

Y/N: "Oh my lord, HARRY! PUT ME DOWN!" She said laughing.

Harry: "I said you should rest and REST you will, woman!" He said in a very superhero like voice.

And all you could hear after that were giggles and laughter, and they knew they were okay.

[fuck-customers]

So here's a real long and real angry fuck coworkers/managers so hang on tight (tldr at the end).

I work in fast food, which sucks a lot, but it's a high school job yknow. Well the place I work at is often heralded for it's outstanding customer service, which includes having people take the drive thru orders outside. And often take orders outside in illegally hot/cold temps, to the point where the weather app/website has been blocked on our order taking ipads, to make it harder to call out the managers for their bullshit, but whatever.

So I'm outside today, and it's late May in the south, so it's hot as balls out, probs around 90, so technically people outside are supposed to rotate every 10 minutes. So my coworker, J, and I are sent outside to take orders, and we do have fans but they literally don't fuckin work, so that's real fun. After about 20 minutes, J and I both ask for some water, and the shift leader who's wearing a headset inside, M, does get someone to bring that to us. I told her where my cup was, and someone got it to fill with water, but doesn't pour out the soda that was previously in my cup, and just fills the top half with water, and brings out my delicious warm watered down soda. Which I'm not gonna drink, that's disgusting, so I just resign myself to thirst.

About half an hour after this, J finally asks for his rotation, which I'd been thinking about. M inside says to give her a second, they're busy, but she'll get it in a couple minutes. I figure I'll let him get rotated, wait a bit, and then ask someone to come outside for me as well. I settle on waiting 10 minutes. I do ask for some proper water from whoever comes outside, as that'll make it more bearable. 

Yet the replacement never comes. J and I continue to take orders out in the heat for about another half hour, complaining to one another. Finally, he calls over the headset, mentioning his rotation. M simply says "okay", and another employee with a headset, B says that they'll get to it, and stop whining.

At this point, I'm starting to feel really sick from the heat, as in I can barely breathe, I'm having to stop and catch my breath in between every sentence I say to a customer, and my chest hurts. I just really want some damn water, honestly.

Finally, Js headset battery starts to die, and he calls for a replacement. A new coworker, S (sorry for so many letters), says she'll bring him one, and about 5 minutes later when she walks out, we both ask her for water. Thank God, she brings some back for us, and J asks her about his rotation again, and she tells him "We have no one to rotate you with", which is bullshit, because she could rotate, B could rotate, multiple others inside could rotate, they just don't wanna come outside, when J and I have been outside for close to 2 hours, which is like really illegal lmao.

So J says again over the headset that he wants his damn rotation, and he's pretty pissed now, understandably. My dumb ass, trying to be the tough guy, insists I'm fine now, even though it's hard to speak from wheezing. This time though, none of the original people respond.

Soon after though, the night drive thru lead comes outside, to check on J and I, and after I tell her what's up she starts apologizing profusely, saying she hasn't been wearing a headset, she didn't know what had been happening, she had no clue we'd been asking for an hour and a half for assistance we hadn't received. Less than 5 minutes later, both J and I were back inside, with B and S on our spots, and M nowhere to be found inside.

I go to take a spot inside and have a really rough coughing fit, can't talk, can't breathe, etc. The drive thru lead, L, tells me to go sit in the back for a bit, which I gratefully accept. At this point I'm sunburnt, my throat aches, and I'm shaking violently. A few minutes later L comes back and starts apologizing again, saying she feels awful, saying she wished she was wearing a headset. I love L, shes a super sweet manager, and I know she's really upset. She said it was bullshit that we didn't have people to rotate, and that if she'd been listening, she would've gotten it done ASAP. Then I tell her a shift leader, M, had a headset on, and she got mad, mad that M abandoned J and I outside, and says she'll talk with her. M has always liked me, but I figured that was about to change. L left for a smoke break, and I caught my breath in the back for a bit before going to take a spot up front.

Later, when B and S came inside, B was bitching about how he "had to be in a position that wasn't even his because some people have to complain". This is about being inside, because although he was scheduled on an inside position, it's the position that rotates with order takers, and he's a little bitch. I told him that if he'd taken the rotation when J first asked, he wouldn't have to have been outside for as long as he was, because if J and I hadn't been worked to heatstroke, we would've been switched back.

M walks over, hearing our bickering, and immediately like "oh it doesn't matter now we're all fine now haha" and I'm still p mad so I say "Yes, but I certainly still feel dehydrated". M starts to try to defend herself, saying she hadn't heard us asking for water or rotations or anything, but says she knew that my first drink got fucked up, but apparently didn't try to fix it??? But still, her defense is bullshit, because she would respond with an "okay" or "I'm working on it" whenever J tried to remind her. B immediately backs her up, saying he didn't hear anything, even though he too responded, because he's a suck up. I just ignore them and keep working on whatever I'm doing, trying not to lose my cool on this incompetent shift leader who literally just got back from 6 months of not working bc she's at school.

After we've closed I'm talking to L in the back about the night, and she's close to tears apologizing to me still, and I feel terrible, because it's obviously not her fault, and she already gets shit from the other managers about the way she does her job. I tell her what M said about "not hearing" J and i, and she says when she talked to M privately, she claimed the same thing. Honestly, that makes me angrier than the whole being abandoned thing, because you're a leader, sis. Own up to your mistake and apologize and I would've moved past it and not typed out this whole thing. J was also super pissed, but M kept telling him that he should be over it now.

Another thing M did at the same time was told J and I not to "reset" to the speakers when we've reached the end of the drive thru lane, to allow the orders to process and not keep inundating the kitchen. It's a basic drive thru protocol to reset when we're backed up, to try and keep things smooth, and keep food in order. M yelled at J and I and told us to keep taking orders and not "stand around" at the speakers. Apparently she gave the same orders to B and S when they were outside, and L heard and told them they had to reset, it was the rules. M then went outside and told them not to listen to L, that she was in charge, and that they weren't allowed to reset. M is a shift leader just back from school, L is the night drive thru lead, aka Ms superior. L was, understandably, pretty pissed, especially since a lot of other managers don't respect her either. Work is a shit show, and I'm sunburnt.

 TL;DR - Coworker and I left outside in 90 degree weather for 2 hours, I without water, other coworkers bitch about having to switch out with us, leader denies hearing our request for water or breaks, same leader goes directly against superior managers orders, I'm sunburnt and pissed off.

[brightly-painted-canvas]

Hi! I've noticed you wrote rami and joe being roommates in one italian joe fic and i love the idea!!!! Do you mind sharing maybe more hcs?

Hi! Sorry for being so late >.(since I couldn’t finish today and tomorrow’s entries for the Sledgefu week, I figured I could at least reply to your request that was sitting for some time in my ask box)(it still took some time to write ‘cause I tend to get a lot invested in these things… hope you don’t mind!)

It all starts because Rami has to move to NYC to film Mr Robot and the flat he had decided to rent for the first months in the city is suddenly no more available (for an unlucky coincidence of bad maintenance from the previous owners, delay on reparation works from the current owner and Rami’s lack of time to get directly involved in these matters) and he has to ask to his New Yorker friends for a place to crash, promising it would be only for the time it takes for his flat to get fixed

of course Joe is the first friend to reply and the most enthusiastic one because he’s like that and he’s always there to lend a hand

of course (2) Rami’s own flat’s works get delayed over and over again and at the end he’s finishing shooting S1 of Mr Robot and he’s still living with Joe (and loving the shit out of their shared routine)

since the first week of their cohabitation, Joe has Rami saved under ‘Roomie Malek’ on his phone (and finds it hilarious, thank you very much)

he steals Rami’s phone at some point and saves himself as ‘Joe Roommazello’ (also hilarious, he’s born to make great puns)

Rami never changes that for some reason (reasons different than his inability with technology I know how to make my phone work Joe fuck right off)

problems with Rami’s real inability with technology start manifesting when Joe, who at that moment is a 30 years old single and ready to mingle boi, realises it’s impossible to successfully end a date with Rami as a roommate, since he doesn’t check his phone EVER and he always misses Joe’s texts about needing the house for himself until at least 11 pm

the times Rami walks in to Joe and a gal/bloke making out on the couch reaches uncountable amounts very fast

Joe is very uncomfortable and Rami is always apologetic but he simply seems unable to solve these recurrent awkward situations by checking and maybe replying to Joe’s desperate texts and phone calls

Joe tries to find a remedy by buying a large whiteboard he hangs on the kitchen’s wall. He divides it in seven sections for the seven days of the week and then instruct Rami to use a red marker while he uses a blue one

the whiteboard is to keep tracks of their schedules so that everyday they know what they have to do and at what hour they should be expected home without having to call the other’s manager

it starts off pretty well but then it becomes so convenient that they begin to leave messages on each other’s daily space, written in their marker colour but in opposite handwritings (‘remember to buy milk’ ‘I’m lactose intolerant’ ‘from Rami to Rami: remember to buy milk’ - underlined - ‘from Joe to Joe: remember to buy regular milk for Rami and soy milk for you’ ‘trip to LA in one week’ ‘I’m gonna miss you’ ‘you’re coming with me’ ‘oh right I forgot’ ‘this is what the board’s for’, etc.)

(a third marker is added to the board. It’s green and it means things they do together)

(it’s still impossible to prevent Rami to catch Joe in compromising positions with his dates because even writing ‘DATE NIGHT’ - underlined - on the board doesn’t mean Rami’s sleepy and tired mind after a full day on set is going to remember that he needs to give Joe his private time at home before he can have dinner, take a shower and fall into bed)

(trying to have sex while Rami’s eating cereal in the kitchen is an absolutely miserable experience, Joe finds out)

Joe stops dating altogether at some points. It saves him the stress to try and find a date and getting ready and spending lots of money for nothing. Moreover, his evenings are already plenty of fun with his and Rami’s late dinners and movie nights and script readings and scene rehearsing and lazy cuddles on the couch

cuddles are a must in their house, by the way. It’s written in their Roommates Contract which they never actually redacted but they quote from all the time since they rewatched S1 of TBBT together (‘before the show turned to shit’ ‘please don’t say that in public’). They’re both very tactile, affectionate men and they really really don’t care about any toxic masculinity crap, especially in the privacy of their own home

they mostly cuddle in the evening on the couch under a blanket (watching old movies they both love like ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ which is Joe’s favourite and always makes him cry a bit at the end) or on Joe’s bed when Rami comes home very late from set and really needs a hug before going to bed. Joe is always willing to hug someone in distress, even if that requires being woken up at 2 am with a armful of yawning Rami Malek complaining about skipping dinner and feeling NY’s freezing winter weather into his very bones

(Joe hugs him closes and then gets up to make him a ham sandwich while Rami takes a boiling hot shower)

Rami doesn’t date. There are multiple reasons why, but mostly it’s because he’s too busy with filming his first leading role in a tv show and because he’s not one for one night stands so he prefers skipping the dating process altogether while he’s too into his job to really make an effort

plus, Joe’s enough of a reassuring, calming presence in his life at the moment. He’s someone Rami can trust wholeheartedly, from that time he calls him from set panicking about forgetting to turn off the stove that morning (to which Joe has to run home and check if that is true and their apartment is on fire - it isn’t -) to that other time he fell sick with the flu and Joe cancelled his plans to take care of him and make sure he didn’t die of dehydration and lack of medications

Joe is also someone who makes Rami laugh and smile and be happy and he does so all the time, effortlessly. It is probably the characteristic that Rami loves the most about Joe, together with his intelligence and his good manners and his profound respect of others

(basically, everything about Joe is nice in Rami’s eyes)

(and it seems everything about Rami is nice in Joe’s eyes too)

because Rami is also enough for Joe. He’s there for the whole writing process of Joe’s directing debut ‘Undrafted’ and when Joe needs help rehearsing or proof reading a scene, he’s willing to sacrifice all his free time to lend a hand. Rami’s presence in Joe’s home is comforting to the point he find it difficult to fall asleep or remembering things like doing the laundry or going grocery shopping when Rami’s back in LA or somewhere promoting Mr Robot because what’s the point?

(Joe doesn’t like to do things alone anymore)

Rami makes Joe feel safe and grounded. Joe has always been a bit of an anxiety-prone person, always fretting about this or that but at the same time incredibly inclined to fall into profound boredom during lulls in activity between jobs. Rami’s presence somehow prevents him to get too caught up in his own mind during busy times and too lazy to function as a regular human being when he’s got nothing to do

it somehow reminds him of when they first met, on the set of The Pacific: Rami had been an anchor for him at that time too, the ‘one who makes it great’ with his hard work and grace under pressure and willingness to always strive for more, better, best. Their great connection and synergy had started back then and never left. This knowledge makes Joe sad sometimes, thinking about all those years in between when they hadn’t been as close, hadn’t kept in touch enough

sometimes they call Martin just to bother him at odd hours (mostly when it’s already late at night in Ireland) and they always invite him to the US to spend some time together, even if they’re all very busy with their works. Some other time they arrange nights out with Noel and Brendan and all those other The Pacific kids they’re still in contact with because they still get along like brothers and New York is the place where all their roads cross at some point or another

members of their families come to visit and arranging sleeping accommodations when the Maleks are over is the most complicated task: they have two bedrooms with queen size beds and a couch that can accomodate one more person, but they always refuse to let Nelly sleep on it and both offer their own bed to Rami’s mom

after hours of offerings and complaints (Italian hospitality having a fitful match with Egyptian proper manners… the Mediterraneans are all stubborn and prideful in their own ways of being good people), she accepts to sleep in Rami’s bed while the twins take Joe’s bed and Joe creates a nest for himself on the couch

(Nelly wakes up early one morning during their stay to find the couch empty and her three boys all asleep on Joe’s bed with Joe’s laptop still open showing its screensaver and Sami curled up against Rami’s back as Rami’s head is on Joe’s shoulder and Joe’s right arm is under Rami’s waist)

(she closes the door quietly and prepare breakfast for the four of them and doesn’t say a thing when they all emerge sleepy and messy from Joe’s bedroom, but she smiles knowingly at Sami when he catches her eyes as they witness Joe and Rami’s perfect coordination in serving each other toasts and coffee with the right amount of milk and sugar without having to say one single word)

when Yasmine comes to visit, she usually stays in a hotel with her fiancée/husband so they only have to worry about dinner and entertainment

when Joe’s sister comes to visit with her family, Rami gets so excited to see Joe’s nephews that he can’t fall asleep the night prior. He loves chatting with Mary and her husband but the kids are an absolute joy to have around: they play board games and watch movies and one time they all go ice skating together and Rami almost tears up when the youngest calls him (albeit accidentally) ‘uncle’ for the first time

soon (too soon) Mr Robot S1 is over and Undrafted is ready to go into production and while they’re very excited for their new projects, they feel like they’re slowly drifting apart and they don’t like it one bit

Rami is conflicted about moving back to LA for the months he has before S2 starts filming and taking his stuff with him to finally free Joe of his presence. He’s got enough time to look for a new place to stay on his own while he’s back living with Sami, but somehow he doesn’t want to proceed with this plan

Joe’s rarely at home enough to sit down and have a serious conversation about it, but at the same time Rami doesn’t think this is a topic they can discuss over the phone so he delays his flight and he delays having to think about it until

one evening Joe comes home tired and stressed out and crushed by the amount of pressure he’s under to make this movie (HIS movie) work

Rami is there to comfort him and force him to eat dinner and have a shower and going to bed and when Joe breaks down crying in his arms sobbing about not being good enough it takes Rami 0.01 seconds to decide to cancel his flight and stop worrying about what’s right and what’s proper because he’s needed HERE RIGHT NOW and he has to stay but most of all he WANTS to stay

he’s never gonna be perfectly sure he’s the right person to do this for Joe, if Joe needs him because he is conveniently already there in his life or if he’s there because he has been good all along (chosen maybe), because they made it work and it’s working perfectly, because somehow they’ve become exactly what the other needs for it to be right

he’s never gonna be sure but they don’t really have to talk about it either because they both wants this and they’re ready to make an effort to make it right and keep it being right

(Rami thinks Joe makes him a better person because he is inherently a good person. Joe thinks Rami makes him a better person because he is inherently a good person)

soon (2) it’s time for Mr Robot S2 and Rami never really went away in the meanwhile, but that’s okay. Joe is editing Undrafted and it’s maybe not going to be the best film ever made but it’s good and Joe likes it (and Rami likes it a lot) and that’s okay. They’re still living together and their families still love coming to visit them and their whiteboard is still full of things to do written in green and that’s okay. Rami stops looking for flats to rent or buy in NYC and that’s absolutely okay

they celebrate one year of being roommates with dinner in a fancy restaurant downtown (Rami’s choice) and a walk in the park and when they get home they watch Netflix on Joe’s bed and Joe says ‘if I’d known the only way for you not to ruin a date night was having a date night with you, I’d asked you out sooner’ and Rami laughs until there are tears in the corner of his eyes

they are (more than) okay.

[master-sass-blast]

Everything Needs a Little Magic

ALL. ABOARD. THE FLUFF TRAIN!

Seriously. This is just fluff. Entirely self indulgent.

Summary: You and Piotr spend the day watching Disney movies.

THAT’S IT. NO PLOT. NOTHING BUT FLUFF. I’M DEADASS SERIOUS.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: T for making out.

@colossus-and-cable-and-thanos THIS IS ALSO FOR YOU, BB. YOU KNOW WHY! YOU KNOW!

(Also, while we’re here, I highly recommend that y’all check out @x-men-babe‘s blog. They’ve got a masterlist (unlike me, who can’t get their SHIT together) and their writing is really fantastic (READ ICEBOX. DO IT. YOUR LIFE WILL BE BETTER FOR IT. I PROMISE!).

And, unlike me, they take requests! I’ve had a couple people ask me if I take requests. At this point, I don’t, and I’m not sure if I ever will. Outside of special occasions (or finishing my Piotr fic series, which’ll probably take at least a year), it’s not something I can see myself doing. I get very attached to ideas and tend to covet them closely, which ultimately doesn’t work well with doing requests (that and I don’t struggle with writing of my own volition).

But yes! Check out x-men-babe’s blog! You won’t regret it! 10000% Goblin Guarantee of quality!)

Sunlight dapples the bright green undergrowth of the woods behind the X-Mansion. Birds chirp overhead, their merry sounding songs echoing up to the bright, flawless blue sky. Bees occasionally buzz past, in search of the next patch of cutely colored flowers.

It’s a picturesque day.

You, however, are not.

You’re absolutely drenched in sweat, slick and shiny with it as you jog on a well worn path in the woods. Your shirt and gym shorts cling to your body, darkened with your excess perspiration. Your hair is equal parts limp and frizzy, and the strands that have fallen out of your haphazard pony tail --tied during the ugly hours of the morning when you’d first woken up to start your work out--are plastered against your forehead or your neck. Your knees are smudged with dirt from where you tripped earlier --along with your hands--and you just generally look like a mess.

A happy mess, though. A well-exercised mess. This run has been a part of your daily routine for several months now, and you’ve built enough endurance to go the whole distance without stopping or passing out!

You are, however, realizing that you might need to get up earlier if you want to avoid the sweltering summer temperatures and the corresponding sweat bath. You’re not sure which is more disgusting --being so sweaty that people can see their reflections when they look at your skin, or getting up early.

You’re pretty sure it’s getting up early. Probably.

As you jog through the gardens and towards the back of the mansion, you spy Piotr sitting out by the back door in his human form, presumably waiting for you.

Part of it is elating --because just last night he confessed he was in love with you and borderline made out with you on a secluded bench behind a tree, and you’re always happy to see him--but part of it is groan worthy --because just last night he confessed he was in love with you and borderline made out with you on a secluded bench behind a tree, and right now you look absolutely awful.

You slow to a stop a few feet away from him and spread your arms wide, as if waiting for applause before taking a bow. “Behold me and all my drippy glory!”

Piotr chuckles as you flop onto the ground. “You look fine, myshka. I take it your run went well?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, but it’s so damn hot.” You sit up and grimace when you try --and fail--to wipe stray blades of grass off your arms.

“Perhaps you should start waking up earlier.” He’s frowning now, concerned. “It is not good to run in this heat. You could make yourself sick.”

“Okay, I know you’re just trying to help me be healthy, but you should know that suggesting waking up anytime before eight is treason.”

He smiles fondly and shakes his head. “Will you listen if I offer something in return?”

“Absolutely. Even if it’s just you taking your shirt off. Especially if it’s you taking your shirt off. Can you tell I have a vested interest in seeing you with your shirt off?”

His cheeks flush red, but he laughs anyway as he holds out a water bottle to you. “I thought you would be thirsty, since you usually don’t take drink with you. Which--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Not healthy.” You groan as you press the cool plastic against your hot skin, then take a few icy sips and sigh contentedly. “You’re a real prince among men. You know that, Piotr?”

“Last I checked, it’s called being nice.”

“Pretty sure you’re just an alien that thrives off being courteous.”

He raises an eyebrow at you and smirks. “So, I am alien Prince?”

“I don’t see why not. You’ve got manners and can morph into a massive metal version of yourself. Pretty fuckin’ weird, if you ask me.” You guzzle a little more water, then groan as you push yourself into a standing position. “You’re dressed casual today. Is school not in?”

“Nyet. We are out for year.”

Right. You knew that. Duh.

Your brain does the math of it’s own volition. 

The students and most of the teachers are out for the day and won’t be back until late evening. Those who’ve stayed behind will likely spend the day doing what they want. And, as if that wasn’t wonderful enough, Wade and Nathan are out of the house on a job for Weasel. 

You smile as an idea comes together in your head. “Are there any missions you have to go on.”

Piotr shakes his head. “Nyet.”

“Do you have any hard set plans for the day?”

He’s smiling now, catching on to what’re you’re getting at. “I do not.”

“Then, what say you and I spend the day together once I’m done showering? I’m thinking marathon movie session.”

“I think I would enjoy that very much.” He opens the back door for you and ushers you inside. “But you really should take water with you on runs, moya lyubov’. Dehydration is no joking matter.”

You hide your fond smile by lifting the spout of the water bottle to your lips and let your mother-hen boyfriend lecture you about proper athletic safety and the importance of being well hydrated.

God, you love this man.

Once you’ve thoroughly scrubbed yourself and put on some dry clothes that don’t reek of sweat, you pop downstairs in search of Piotr.

He’s in the kitchen, making an early lunch for himself. “Have you eaten yet, myshka?”

“No. I prefer doing fasted workouts. You build more muscle that way.”

“Da, but you should eat something. You have burnt great deal of energy.”

“I’m going to.” You pat his arm reassuringly. “You don’t have to worry, okay? Believe me, I’m starving. There’s no way I’m going any longer without eating than I absolutely have to.”

The line of his shoulders relaxes as he exhales. “Sorry, I--”

“Don’t apologize, Pete. I like the way you’re sweet and want to take care of everyone; it’s endearing.” Then, to prove your point, you clamber up onto the stool next to him and kiss him.

Even though most of you is completely swept away by the sheer sensation of his lips pressing against yours, a tiny part of your brain still registers ‘holy fucking shit, I’m kissing Piotr, I’m his girlfriend now, I can kiss him whenever I want, this is so fucking awesome--’

He breaks the kiss with a smile and rubs the swells of your cheeks with his thumbs. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get enough of that.”

You grin and lean back in for another kiss. “Me either.”

He presses a gentle finger against your lips. “Eat something, please, dorogaya moya.”

You kiss the pad of his finger and hop off the stool. “Fine. If you insist. So, what movies are we watching?”

“I thought I would let you choose. I put my DVD binder on table in rec room.”

You stealthily lift a pack of Pop Tarts out of one of the boxes Wade has stashed on top of the fridge, then use Piotr’s meal prep distraction to slip into the rec room with your hard earned treat in hand. You situate yourself on the couch, open the foil wrapper holding the breakfast pastry as quietly as you can, and shove half a Pop Tart in your mouth while you start flipping through the DVD booklet.

The sheer number of choices is overwhelming. You wouldn’t have pegged your boyfriend as a movie junkie. The case contains a little bit of everything, from some discs with titles in Russian --no surprise there--to cheesy rom coms to several pieces by Alfred Hitchcock.

What is surprising, though, is when you spy Disney’s Peter Pan movie at the bottom right corner of one of the ‘pages.’ After staring at it for a moment, wondering why Piotr would have a kid’s movie, you shrug it off and flip over to the other side. He’s a teacher. Of course he’d have a kid’s movie or two.

Except it isn’t just one or two. Peter Pan is just the tip of the iceberg; a few quick, disbelieving flips to the end of the binder confirms that he has every Disney movie released on DVD, from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to Moana.

Woah. Did not see this coming.

“Pop Tarts are not a meal, dorogaya moya.”

“Agree to disagree.” You look up at him as he walks into the rec room with two plates of food. “Hey, why do you have so many Disney movies?”

“They are happy movies,” he says as he sets one of the plates in your lap. “Besides, I like the art and animation.”

“I’ve never seen ‘em. What makes them so great?”

“Well, the older ones were done by hand. Artists made backgrounds, then painted animation cels for each frame. The cels were photographed, then put together into full movie. It is...” His voice trails off as he tries to find the words. “Awe-inspiring, as artist, to watch. Compared to modern standards, the movies are arguably crude, but the amount of effort is... amazing. And I think the old movies are beautiful in ways that new movies aren’t. The texturing of the backgrounds, the softness... it is incredible.”

“Wow. That is cool. What about the newer ones?”

“Computer animation is fascinating. I doubt it will ever be ‘my thing’ but it is still interesting to watch. Plus, stories and plots are better written. Usually.”

“Always a good thing.” You shove the last Pop Tart half into your mouth and shrug. “Disney’s good. You pick where we start.”

“We start at beginning,” he says emphatically as he carries the DVD carrier over to the entertainment center.

You look down at the plate as he sets everything up and gasp when you realize it has a neat little pile of Cheetos on it. “Wait, is this for me?”

“Da. I told you Pop Tarts were not meal.”

“Man, I scored a total package. How did that even happen?”

He blushes as he stands and walks over to the couch. “I think am I the one who ‘scored,’ myshka.”

You smile and sigh happily when he presses his lips against yours.

There’s no way life gets any better than this.

Life, in fact, does get better.

Namely, in the sense that you get to spend the whole day watching Disney movies with your boyfriend.

And in the sense that, if prompted, Piotr will literally spend several minutes explaining the behind the scenes effort that went into the animating the old movies, the techniques used by the artists to construct the backgrounds, and the sheer level of talent it takes to sync audio to hand-fucking-painted animation.

That, and the movies are just that gorgeous. Granted, the writing in the newer ones are usually better --the two of you opt to hop back and forth between old and new since there’s no way you’ll make it through every single Disney movie in one day--but the level of artistry in all of them leaves you absolutely speechless.

“Man, I’ve really been missing out!” you murmur, awestruck, as you watch the ‘Whole New World’ sequence in Aladdin. “This is amazing! How did they even do this?”

“Much of animation was done on computers at this point,” Piotr says. “It allows for art to move better with music, more creative freedom.”

“No kidding.” You can’t help but smile as you watch the magic carpet soar up into the clouds as the music swells. “This is really beautiful.”

“Da,” Piotr agrees softly.

And then he shifts closer to you, stretches his arms above his head, and lets one settle around your shoulders as he relaxes again.

Suddenly, your proximity to your boyfriend is a lot more interesting than the movie. You’re tucked against his side, sitting thigh to thigh, and his arm is warm and comfortably heavy on your shoulder.

You’re hit by a desire to kiss him --and it suddenly occurs to you that there’s nothing stopping you. The two of you are in a relationship, there’s no one around that would make doing it ‘inappropriate,’ and you’re practically on a quasi-date. There’s never been a better time for it.

You wriggle into his lap until you’re straddling him, propped up on your knees --he’s so much taller than you that at times it’s almost ridiculous--and loop your arms around his next before leaning into kiss him.

Piotr’s hands flit up and down your arms, your shoulders, and your sides before settling at your waist. He uses his hold on you to pull you close, bringing the two of you flush together.

You let out a happy sigh when he wraps his muscular arms around you, effectively cradling you against his burly chest, and kiss him harder. You’ve been pining for him for so long, and now that the two of you are together you never want to stop kissing him. Touching him. Being around him.

“Is this your way of saying that you don’t want to watch movie anymore?” Piotr asks, a little breathless, when the kiss breaks.

“No,” you murmur as you kiss the bridge of his nose. “I just love you.”

His cheeks flush a lovely shade of rose as he smiles sweetly at you. “I love you too, myshka.”

You turn around and settle in his lap to finish watching the movie, snuggled happily in his arms.

This. Life definitely doesn’t get better than this.

Except it does. The universe is hellbent on proving you wrong today, and you’re loving every moment of it.

Once the film finishes, Piotr suggests that the two of you take a stroll through the gardens to get your blood flowing.

The carefully arranged and tended to patches of flowers and bushes look utterly wonderful in the golden, early evening light. A soft breeze stirs the late spring air, keeping everything perfectly comfortable as the two of you walk along the gravel pathways.

Piotr’s hand in solid and warm around yours, and you never expected such a small, simple form of contact to feel so exhilarating. You almost can’t believe that it’s real, that he’s really your boyfriend now and really loves you.

The two of you talk about whatever comes to mind --mostly the movies you’ve been watching--and take your time as you meander around the grounds of Xavier’s. There’s no reason to hurry; the students and teachers won’t be back from their beach trip for a few more hours, there aren’t any missions that need responding to, and with Wade out of the house on one of his jobs there aren’t any explosions or other disasters to shatter the easy, peaceful lull in the air.

“I’ve really enjoyed today,” you say quietly as you squeeze Piotr’s hand.

“So have I, dorogaya moya. This has been... wonderful.” He stops --slowly enough that you don’t stumble or jerk back--and bends down to kiss you.

You smile into the kiss, and rest one hand on his chest and the other on his cheek.

It’s absolutely magical. Maybe the Disney movies have been rubbing off on your life.

“Think we have time for one more movie?” you ask when he pulls back.

“I think so,” he says with a soft, happy smile.

“Cool.” You grin giddily as you walk back to the house, hand in hand, the promise of more quiet, intimate, magic-filled time together beckoning alluringly.

This. Life doesn’t get better than this.