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#I’m gonna miss theatre there as unorganized as it is
writerfangirlbooks · 4 years
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Bobby’s Daughter Part 3
Dean x Y/N Prompt: 1) Imagine flirting with Dean Winchester before he finds out you're Bobby Singer's daughter. 2) Imagine flirting and taking things to the next level with Dean before finding out one another's identity at Bobby's birthday party. 3) Imagine taking care of Dean in Bobby's house after he is hurt during a hunt.
A/N: part 4 is going to be uploaded to the Wattpad story later today, so if you want more go check it out! Part 5 will be out beginning of October probably. Not sure if it’ll be the end of the series. 
Word Count: about 2870 words
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Credit to gif owner!
The rest of the dinner went well. Neither Dean's brother or your dad said anything about your absence, but they didn't really have a reason to. You hoped not to give them one. You felt more at ease, able to sit back and relax. The boys had decided on the best solution for the case and were preparing to take care of it. You offered to go with them, but a side-glance from Bobby told you to stay out of it. Dean took notice and offered a smile.
"We figure you don't want to miss out on annoying this crazy man, but maybe next time," Dean said.
"You two idgits hurry up and be safe. Come back soon before Y/N eats all the pie," your dad ordered. You laughed before helping Sam grab some of the supplies needed for their spell. The two of you walked outside and struck up your first real conversation.
"So, uh, nice to meet you, Sam. I gotta say, I'm surprised I've never run into you or Dean before," you said lightly. You kept your gaze focused on Sam and your contents, avoiding actually looking at their beautiful car.
Sam was basically a giant next to you and it was a struggle to strain your neck to glance up at him as he replied. The two of you began organizing the trunk. "Well, we're never in one spot for long. Glad to meet you as well. It's a shame we won't be working together. I would enjoy the company of a book reader."
"Hey, I read," complained Dean.
He was carrying boxes filled with equipment and weapons. The weight of it was apparently quite a bit, because the muscles in his arms tightened, wrapping around his sleeves. Dean was barely able to see you above the three large boxes. You were grateful to be above average height when standing next to these two men because they were obnoxiously tall. Sam stepped back.
"Maybe next time. I ought to hang back with dad for a while," you admitted.
"Yeah. I think I left something inside. If you give Dean or I your number, we can call you later, see if you want to join a hunt, or have any advice. You have quite the helpful books," Sam said.
With that, he left. You turned back to Dean, who finished unloading the boxes into the surprisingly organized trunk of his shiny car. He slammed the trunk shut and leaned against it, hips pressed back. His eyes seemed darker in the shade as they met yours with a small smirk.
"Yeah, how 'bout it, Y/N? Can I have your number?"
This led to a full, teasing grin. You shook your head and rolled your eyes. God, it was hard to hide your smile. You took a step away, the easygoing banter creating a more heated tension that you did not need brought into your dad's house.
Dean pouted, standing straighter. "No?"
"You think you're cute, don't you?" You asked with a laugh.
"I think I'm adorable," Dean responded. He stepped closer.
The door cracked open and your father's voice rang out in a goodbye to Sam, who stepped carelessly over to the car, unaware of the electricity buzzing around. The three of you shared a too soon, too small goodbye. You watched the Impala until it was out of sight.
-
You spent the next four days at your dad's place. You had your few go-bags settled into your old room and clothes draped aimlessly on the floor. The two of you had quickly settled into a routine of you fixing breakfast and him ordering fast food for dinner. Pie was the best consistency. You felt comfortable asking for more information on the Winchester brothers, getting the details about their lives, which Bobby begrudgingly told. He mentioned other local hunters, hoping this would encourage you to not constantly work around.
The two of you were relaxing on the couch when the phone rang. You were sorting through photos on your camera and Bobby was watching an old western movie. You glanced at how calm he seemed and offered to get the landline. He nodded with a grunt and you walked into the kitchen, accepting the call.
"Bobby? It's Sam. Something's happened to Dean. We're on the way to your place now. He insists on no hospital, so it'll be a few hours. We were-"
Sam's words blurred together as your blood ran cold. You were surprised the phone didn't slip out of your hand with how sweaty it was. This was a man you barely knew, injured to who-knows-what extent. You should feel mild concern, not this deep-seeded and breathtaking worry. You steadied your breaths and batted your eyes to focus back on what Sam was saying.
"Sam, it's Y/N here. We'll be waiting with medical supplies. Be safe."
You rushed over to tell your dad the news. He sighed and the two of you went to work. You cleaned up your room while Bobby gathered the necessary kits. It took a stressing amount of time for the brothers to return. Sam didn't look much different from when you last saw him less than a week ago except for the tiredness under his eyes. You rushed to the passenger side when the door flew open, Dean trying angerly to swing his boots over the side. His features softened by a few fractions when he saw it was you trying to help him.
"What the hell did you do?" You muttered.
He laughed weakly and leaned back in the seat. You took the sight of him in. This was not how you expected to see him again. The most fortunate notice was that wherever the injury was, it was not life threatening. Dean was pale and more than likely dehydrated. His clothes were covered in a mixture of dirt, blood, and some other substance. He was desperately trying to play it cool.
You shook away your thoughts and moved to help him stand, though he quickly and gently pushed your hands away. Bobby had just made it outside. You may have ran out here the second the car entered the lot. Sam was saying something to him and Bobby responded. Your focus was helping this stupid, helplessly handsome man.
"I got it," he grumbled.
"You gonna man up and accept help or sit there and stir?" You asked, your arms still outreached.
"You really are Bobby's daughter," he whined.
He shifted forward and closed his eyes for a few moments, eyebrows furrowed. He grunted, finally moving an arm around you, and ducking when the two of you stumbled out of his vehicle. More weight than you expected pressed against you. Dean mumbled something in your ears and you were suddenly grateful the others were more than a few feet away.
Sam and Bobby took Dean into their arms, ushering him into the house and onto the nearest place to lie down which happened to be the couch. Bobby pulled up a chair and the medical supplies. Sam was speedtalking through what happened, clearly anxious. You stood to the back of the room, trying to distance yourself. You shouldn't feel this heavy.
At the same time, you felt like you were intruding. The brothers were closer to your father than you had originally been led to believe. These weren't just some 'kid hunters that he occasionally helped out'. Your dad was caring after Dean no differently than he looked after you when you were sick. He was like a father to them.
The thought made something deep in your stomach curl. You weren't sure why the thought was so unpleasant, but you slipped back outside and sat on the front steps of the battered porch. You took a few breaths and placed your head in your hands. The bright afternoon sun warmed your body. You glanced around at the dirty, unorganized property. This was supposed to be home, yet you felt so out of place.
You wished you had grabbed your camera, but you had left it on the sidetable in the living room, discarded in such a frenzied panic. The sun was beginning to set already. You were sure if you wandered long enough, there would be some fun wildlife to capture on film. Nevertheless, you were stuck here. Breaking you from your thoughts, the door behind you creaked open and Sam stepped outside.
He gave a small smile. It took a few seconds to realize he was waiting for an invitation, so you nodded. The younger brother sat down near you on the steps. His plaid shirt was missing, leaving just a regular tee. He released a stressed breath that turned into a nervous laugh.
"How is he?" You asked, your voice surprisingly steady and calm.
Sam's eyes were many shades darker than Dean's, you noticed for the first time as he looked at you. "Much better. He's resting now. I feel so ridiculous. If we hadn't separated..."
You hadn't expected to have to console Sam, but that's what you were going to do. It was clear he was beating himself up about what happened to Dean. Some logic would have pointed to that being the case. Splitting up on hunts sometimes went great. Other times not so much. This just happened to be one of those times. Regardless, you were more prone to lead with your heart over your head.
"Sam, it's not your fault. From what you said, this was something the two of you agreed on. Right? And you said he's doing better. So give it a little time, I'm sure he'll be back on his feet. I'm sure you've done more good than harm," you said.
The shaggier-head brother seemed to ponder this before he nodded in agreement. "I guess... There's been so much pain around us these past few years. Ever since I left Stanford, things-"
"Hold up. You went to Stanford?" You exclaimed.
Color filled Sam's cheeks. "Yeah, I was pre-law. That was another lifetime.":
"Dude, that's amazing! All I did was attend some horribly preppy private school and learn how to take a bunch of photographs," you laughed.
"That's something I was never that good at. Theatre and debate were my thing. Of course, that's one of the many things Dean laughs at. He's always been about the life, hunting, that is," Sam said, beginning to trail off in thought.
This reminded you about what Bobby had said. Like you, they had lost their mother too young to remember. They also lost their dad not too long ago. It was easy to see what Sam meant about being surrounded by pain. That was a common theme among all hunters.
"I guess having a hobby for me besides hunting is what holds onto my sanity. This life ain't easy and I know my dad wishes I wouldn't, but it's like they say, once you start, there ain't no going back. I know I'm meant to be a hunter, no matter the consequences. I think Dean feels the same way."
You hadn't even thought about it before you said it. Hunting was something you weren't willing to give up. Dean had to feel the same, you were sure. It was reassuring, but there was still an uneasy feeling in your gut. The conversation lasted another ten minutes before Sam decided to go on a burger run, knowing Dean would be hungry when he awoke. The pair of you parted and you decided to go back inside. Bobby was washing up in the kitchen.
"I need a nap." Hello to you, too.
Bobby disappeared to another side of the house, leaving you to your lonesome once more. You made your way into the living room. Dean was sprawled across, covering the couch. He was out like a light. You took a seat hesitantly in your dad's chair, still watching Dean. His mouth was parted slightly and he snored softly. His hair was a wreck, parted in every direction possible. He looked so different than he had just days ago.
You remained quiet to not wake him as you leaned near him, reaching past his head to grab your camera. The idea lingered in your mind before shaking it off. You scanned through your most recent shoots. You became so focused on the small screen that you forgot the bigger picture of the man behind it. A small groan escaped Dean's lips as he stretched his arms. He blinked a few times before his green eyes settled on you.
"What the hell's going on?" He asked. He tried sitting up, but it was becoming clear his left shoulder and leg were in pain. His breaths quickly became ragged with his chest heaving.
Hello to you as well. Hunters and their manners.
"You were napping," you responded, setting the camera on your lap.
"Why do I feel like shit?" He continued to moan and groan, voice dry. You itched to get up and help, but remained seated and resorted to tapping your foot.
"Probably cause you got your ass beat."
Dean squinted, trying to figure out if you were being sarcastic or honest. Both was typically the answer, though there was more to it.
"I mean, really, Dean, letting one measly monster throw you across the room and leave your little brother to finish the job?" You clicked your tongue thrice and shook your head.
"Alright already. I got it. I got beat. Don't rub it in." Dean closed his eyes and took a breath.
He apparently was not in the mood to play. But you figured a little bit of play might cheer the poor man up.
You lowered your voice, repeating what he said twice. "Don't rub it in. Those words don't ring a bell. In fact-"
The sound that came from Dean could have been considered a growl, but it was too broken to be anything but an annoyed scowl. "Y/N..."
"Dean," you were tempted to mock. You stood up, setting the camera aside once more. "Quit complaining."
You moved to stand at his side and after a moment, Dean turned his palm over. You took it without hesitation. His fingers intertwined yours tightly. His neck cracked as he strained to look up at you. His breathing had steadied, though his chest was still exerting extra force to breathe normally.
"Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but I do a whole lotta complaining." His mouth remained open for a moment, as if he was going to say something else and changed his mind.
"You think getting hurt gives you a pass?" You asked, your voice softening. Dean's hand tugged, the question causing an eyeroll, but you obliged, squatting down to sit on the floor. This made the two of you much closer.
He pursed his lips, clearly happier at the shorter distance. "I certainly think so."
You rested your chin on the edge of the cushion, about half of a foot away from Dean. Just as his breathing seemed normal, yours caught. You were close enough to just lean over and though your back might be uncomfortable, it would have been worth it, to press your lips against his. The look in his eyes agreed. Dean swallowed, not looking away. His thumb began to run over your knuckles. He didn't even seem to realize he was doing it.
"Dean-"
"Kiss me." His voice was but a whisper, the two words unnecessarily soft, a plead. It would be rude to not oblige in a time like this. You propped your body closer against the couch, using a hand to hold his face. You met plush, soft lips, quite the pleasant surprise from the thought of dry, cracked expectations after the day he had. The kiss lingered for a few moments, nothing more than the two of you together.
You pulled away. Heart hammering in your chest, you were startled with the scary fact that you cared for Dean. He was not another one night stand. He was not a friend or your father's. He was not a hunter. He was so much more than all of those.
"Wait," Dean said, reaching for my hand again. Urgeny filled his eyes and color darkened the freckles on his cheeks. "Don't go."
"Who said I was going anywhere, sugar?" Your use of the nickname he told you to call him the night you first met, some joke about being sweet, brought a hint of a smile to Dean's face.
"Good," he huffed.
"As much as I agree what we're doing would be a fun way to pass the time, I actually want to hear how you're doing. Do you need some Advil or more pillows or something?" You asked.
A crooked grin filled his face. This was the first time he had looked at ease since arriving a couple of hours ago. Maybe there was some hope, after all.
Wattpad/Pinterest: writerfangirlbooks
Tags: @akshi8278​ 
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lesaltywarlock · 4 years
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Chapter 2 to a story I’ll never finish...maybe
Well this chapter was a lot. Some trigger warnings here if you’re willing to read it. TW: Vomit, Self-Harm (forgive me if I miss any others ;3;)
~~~~~~~~~~
Jace stumbled into the cafe and threw his disgusting scrubs into a small bin in the locker room. He wasn't on shift for a while, but he knew that he needed to be here. After coming back into the main room of the cafe, he trudged over to the counter where Alex stared at him with a concerned smile. A large cup of the strongest coffee that Winnie could brew laid right next to her—the mere scent of it punched him in the face with pure bitterness.
"Thanks," Jace grumbled and took his drink to a spare table—setting his backpack on top of it. He spotted Alec as he looked for a spot but decided to ignore him. His only priority was getting this coffee inside of his system.
"Are you...good?" Alec approached Jace's table—a frown on his face as he set some of his stuff down.
"Give me a moment." Jace held up a finger to silence his friend as he took a long, refreshing sip of the scalding coffee. It was insanely bitter and disgusting, but the caffeine was worth every single drop. "Ok...I'm good."
Alec reeled back in disgust, "black coffee...and I thought Mia had a problem."
"He's totally addicted...just give him a few seconds to start up," Alex remarked from the counter as she put in a bunch of freshly baked cookies into the display case. Jace smiled, relishing the scent of chocolate and sugar wafting throughout the cafe. It certainly helped to wake him up at least a little bit.
True to Alex's words, Jace felt the caffeine kick in and he perked up with a smile. He ignored the rapid beating of his heart and leaned back in his seat. The rush of working in that hospital still rang in his mind—but it was worth every second even if he couldn't sleep. The sun shone on his face and warmed every frozen inch of his body. It was relieving.
"Where's Mia?" Jace looked up at Alec who started writing on that same notebook from last night. It was a mess and full of tears, and sticky notes scattered among the pages and creases in an unorganized monstrosity.
"Dance rehearsals...all day. For some school musical or something."
"One of my friends really loves musical theatre, maybe I'll introduce him to the both of you someday." He remarked and leaned over to see what the brunette was writing, but the latter pulled his notebook away. Jace caught a glance of something that was definitely not a typical thing for journalism. It was a sketch. A drawing of some sort.
Alec glared at him for a second before relaxing and shoving his notebook into his backpack. "So...how's that book of yours treating you? Did you get to the—"
"I'm not even that far though, don't spoil me!" He gently kicked the man under the table, earning a small yelp and another angry glare. "S-sorry," Jace said on instinct, backing away from Alec in case he got too mad.
"Don't mention it." Alec rubbed his leg and pulled out a textbook from his backpack—human anatomy. It was certainly odd to see a journalism student taking an anatomy class, but Jace decided not to question anything.
He laid back and tried to relax for however much time laid between his next shift here and this break. He just had to survive the rest of the day without anything disturbing him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The week dragged on and on. It was agonizing like some song stuck on repeat—just doing the same things every day. Jace enjoyed working at both the hospital and the cafe—albeit getting very little rest in between his breaks—but he can only go on for so long.
It's not like he had a choice though. He didn't want to go home.
Jace trudged up to the counter and slapped the fatigue out of his face.
"Alright...um...welcome to Thanks A Latte...what can I get for you today?" He greeted the influx of customers with the same generic smile he put up every day until his face muscles started to hurt. Alec and Mia didn't come, unfortunately, maybe because they had class or just had better things to do than come here or see him.
"That's not the nicest way to treat your best friend." Through his blurred vision, Jace spotted a short man with a smirk on his stubbled and angular face. He was a bit like an elf, sharp green eyes that darted around the room and examined everything for whatever reason. The man shrugged his flannel hoodie off and pointed towards the window with his thumb—flashing a silver dog tag. A torrent of rain battered against the pavement and the distant sound of thunder echoed across the sky, overpowering the soft music playing from the cafe's speakers. "Rain's being a bitch, so I decided to finally come check this place out."
"Quinn...what are you doing here?" Jace groaned and rolled his eyes at the sight of his friend. "I thought you were still at the hospital."
"I decided that I should stop working overtime for once and take a break. Unlike someone I know." Quinn tilted his head at Jace and sighed, "you really have to get out more."
"You know I can't do that." Jace murmured barely above a whisper. He gestured to the small line of people behind the man and said, "now, is there anything that I can get for you?"
"A sandwich and a frozen mocha with extra chocolate chips. Add whipped cream and graham cracker crumbs. Two pumps each of vanilla and chocolate. Heavy on the chocolate and caramel drizzle."
Frozen coffee. Essentially the store's version of a frappuccino at Starbucks and also the most popular due to it tasting like pure sugar. "Would you like some coffee with that sugar?" He deadpanned.
"Nah...two percent coffee and ninety-eight percent sugar please."
Jace obliged but felt a bit disappointed considering it was more sugar than coffee at that point—but it's not like he could stop his friend. After receiving payment, he hurriedly crafted the best drink he could even though his teeth started getting cavities just by looking at it. How could someone just enjoy a coffee drink that didn't even taste like coffee?
Although...it did look pretty nice. The streaks of dark brown and caramel danced together in the drink and the whipped cream added brightness to the whole thing. It was like a piece of art. He wished that he could at least get a taste of it.
"Hey, uh, the gang's staying here past closing. Wanna join?" Jace reluctantly gave the drink to his friend who smiled and took a few sips before responding.
"Sure, why not. Good thing we're off tomorrow, maybe you can actually get some sleep for once." Quinn remarked and went off to find a seat in the cafe. Jace felt his heart shudder. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Every part of him wanted to agree, but they both knew that it wasn't going to happen. Realizing that there were customers waiting, he put on his customer service smile and kept working in hopes that the pit in his stomach would disappear by the time work was done.
"Hey, time to switch." Alex popped her head out of the kitchen a few hours later and tapped his shoulder as she always did. "Reed needs some help scoring the bread Winnie made."
"Alright, can you get Quinn a sandwich? Oh and make it turkey." Jace hummed and smiled as Alex looked at Quinn with a shocked face.
"Oh my god, I can't believe you're here for once!"
That's all that Jace managed to hear before closing the kitchen doors behind him. He scurried to the back where Reed was mulling over a large ball of dough with a small knife in his hand. "Do you need help?" He asked as he leaned on the counter and smirked in a teasing manner. For some reason, Reed always somehow messed up with the scoring process and only made the bread come out horrible.
"It makes me feel bad to hurt them. Can't we just bake them like this?" Reed waved the knife around and groaned in frustration. Before he could kill anyone, Jace snatched the knife out of his friend's hands and pushed him out of the way.
"Just...let me handle this, ok?" Jace snapped and carefully pierced the top of the dough. He slowly moved the tip of the blade along the length of the ball until a large gash ran along most of the top.
"See? It's not that...hard." Jace stared at the cut he made. It looked familiar. Horrifying, even. What did it look like? He placed the knife down and glanced at his arm. Something welled up inside of him—like a memory that was buried a long time ago.
A memory filled with red.
His breath grew heavy and labored—Reed must've heard his heart pounding out of his chest. Jace grabbed the baking sheet and frantically shoved it towards his friend saying, "I-I'm gonna go on break if that's fine with you."
He left the kitchen before Reed could say anything. He just had to get out of there—away from that knife. Away from that place.
Jace exited out the back door—rubbing his forearms—and bumped into a girl. She had steel blue eyes and long jet black hair—a basket of cookies and a small red purse nestled at her side. A light blue scarf swayed in the wind along with a small cardigan wrapped around her white t-shirt with the small logo of a dog. She wore ripped blue jeans that looked like they were very much worse for wear. "Lilith?" He exclaimed.
"Hey, babe!" Lilith grinned and leaned up to peck him on the cheek, sending sparks flying down his spine and into every nerve. Just the feeling made his heart want to do somersaults. "Mom made some cookies and asked me to deliver them."
"Oh, I-I thought you were at the kennel?" His girlfriend worked at this small kennel on the other side of town pretty much all day. She loved animals all her life and treated them with so much kindness—one of the qualities that made him ask her out so long ago.
"I'm on my way there. Sorry if I disturbed your break or something." Lilith elbowed him in his side as she stepped into the kitchen to drop off the treats. He took a deep breath and sat down on the concrete steps leading inside the cafe. His heart felt like it was going to burst. Why did it have to happen now of all times? It was just a stupid piece of bread that he scored as usual, so why now?
Jace shrugged his black hat off that Winnie made them wear and looked around the area. It wasn't a pretty sight to look at quite honestly—trash bins and cars lay scattered on the cracked pavement that was this parking lot. On garbage days, this place mostly had the lingering scent of rotten food and whatever gunk people leave in these businesses. He looked down at his shaking hands and hoped that the panic was going to stop. Why was this happening?
God, of course he knows why this is happening. Jace feels like an idiot—letting himself be like that over some fucking bread. It was so pathetic. It's not supposed to look like himself. Like he was going to carve a deep gash in his arm. And yet...it did to him.
He jumped at the sound of the door opening and turned around to see Lilith—now without her basket—looking down at him with a worried frown. "What happened?"
"It's nothing...just tired." Jace rubbed his eyes and felt that his cheeks were stained with moisture. He didn't even realize he was crying. Despite Lilith already seeing it, he tried his best to force a smile as if nothing was wrong. Obviously, it didn't work. He felt like a piece of glass that everyone could just see through. He didn't want to talk about it, but they both knew it was better than to keep it silent.
"I brought something else." She zipped open her bag and took out a nondescript orange bottle of pills. Jace grabbed the bottle and read its label—Zoloft. "You haven't been coming home, so I started to get a bit worried you weren't taking your meds."
"O-oh...uh, thanks." Jace opened the bottle and swallowed his regular dosage dry. He wanted to do anything but take it, but Lilith wouldn't have stopped bothering him over it. "I should head back inside." He stood up and headed towards the door but Lilith grabbed him by the wrist, making him flinch and pull his hand away in fear. "Wait, please don't—"
She reached up and kissed him on the cheek before waving goodbye. "I love you." And for some reason, he felt like the world was crashing down on him. The breeze had died to a mere whisper, and a rotten taste filled his mouth—possibly from his medication.
He went inside without a word.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fridays were both his favorite and least favorite days of the week. He and his friends had a tradition of playing board games or studying after the store closes. Being friends with the owner had a lot of perks. Jace swept the area, knowing that the cleaning wasn't going to do itself.
His least favorite part about Fridays was his day off the next day on both jobs. Each hour lasted so much agonizingly longer. It's not like he could go home—or at least he didn't want to go home.
Alec and Mia lounged on the floor with the same Neapolitan milkshakes they liked very much in hand. Reed was in the corner scouring through all the board games that Winnie had bought, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. Alex was the only one helping Jace clean up as she stacked chairs on tables and wiped them clean.
"It's party time, folks!" Quinn burst through the door holding a few paper bags presumably with alcohol. Jace flinched at the sound and dropped his mop with a loud crash—his vision blurred and, for a second, he thought that he could see a gun in his hands.
"D-don't scare me like that!" He yelled in a fit of anger, clutching his chest and feeling his heartbeat accelerate. Jace bent down and picked up the mop before silently cleaning the floor—although it looked like he was about to snap the handle in half from how hard he pressed against the floor.
"Hey, special times call for special occasions." Quinn shrugged and placed the bags down on a table next to the entrance. "So who are these newcomers?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. This is Alec and Mia," Reed said from across the cafe, "they've sort of joined the group recently. We forgot to introduce you."
"Hey!" Mia waved with a smile as wide as the ocean.
"Quinn?"
"Alexander, you sly man." Quinn shook his head judgingly. "How dare you infiltrate my friend group without my permission?"
Alec rolled his eyes and stood up to give the other a friendly hug. Jace looked on, distracted from his anger, feeling more confused than anything. "It's good to see you too, bud."
"You two know each other?"Alex stopped and tilted her head in confusion as the two still held their embrace.
After an eternity, they let go of each other and stood shoulder to shoulder with Alec towering over Quinn. "We were buddies back in our army days." The former put his arm around the other and flashed a cheeky smile.
Buddies? Jace stopped mopping and switched his gaze between the two—then to the shirt he wore. He reached inside and retrieved his own dog tag, caressing it and feeling repressed memories start to arise from within the depths of his soul. "Wait, what?"
"What?" Alec raised an eyebrow and pointed at Jace's dog tag. "Oh, hey! Wow...it really is a small world, huh?"
"But...Quinn and I were in the army together. I-I...." Jace massaged his head and tried to unearth whatever memory of Alec that he had under however many layers of trauma and death that he buried.
"Please tell me we're not having war flashbacks right now." Quinn slugged Alec's arm off of him and gently hit the top of Jace's head. "Long story short, yes, you two were friends. I'm surprised you two don't remember."
"Thanks, it's the trauma." Alec remarked. "Are we going to play board games or what?'
"I...ok, fine." Jace reluctantly set his mop on the wall. Alex had already finished cleaning all the tables, so they were pretty much done with everything.
And he ended up regretting that decision. They switched from game to game, from multitasking between Clue and Monopoly to never have I ever. It definitely didn't help that Quinn had brought alcohol to spice up the occasion. Jace didn't like to drink—even if he did, his medication wouldn't allow him to.
Jace hated taking his medication. It was supposed to help deal with his PTSD, and it did in some ways. The neverending nightmares and fear of approaching anything that remotely sounds like a gunshot are still there. The anxiety dissipates and he doesn't feel like utter garbage anymore—not mentally, anyways. Even as the games progressed into the night, he could feel his stomach churn and his vision start to blur. This was the worst part. The nausea and the headaches. The mood swings and the like. He's tried to change medications, but it always ended up giving him the same problems. Both his therapist and his girlfriend try to make him take it despite all of that.
"Are...you ok, dude?" Alec elbowed him in the side and brought Jace back into reality. He looked around and noticed that Quinn and Alex were in the midst of an intense staring contest—and UNO. They both had only a few cards, and the anger radiating off of them hit him like a truck. It only made him feel even worse. Reed and Mia swayed to some sort of rhythm—tapping straws and plastic utensils against the floor and tables.
"I-I'm gonna go get some fresh air." Jace leaped up from his seat on the floor and stumbled out of the front door, cursing under his breath as the loud sound of the bell rang in his head. He only barely made it to the side of the building before he slumped over and expelled his lunch onto the parking lot.
The rain beat down on Jace and soaked through his clothes, but he didn't care. The numbing cold helped to distract himself from the painful ache and nausea. Something rose in his throat and he vomited once more before collapsing against a wall. Without these meds, this wouldn't have happened. He felt more guilty than anything for possibly interrupting the group by leaving so suddenly.
"Jace, what are you doing out here?" He turned to look at Delphine standing over him with an umbrella and a worried look on her face. His stomach recoiled in fear at the realization that someone was there, but he did his best to ignore it. At least he could trust her.
"Del! I...I just needed fresh air." He lied.
"Don't give me that crap, you're lucky Winnie and I decided to stay at the store while your gang got drunk." She picked him up with ease despite her old age and shoved him towards the front of the cafe. "That medication still giving your stomach a fight, huh?"
"Yeah...Lilith keeps making me take it, and you know how your daughter is." Jace reached for the door handle with a slight tremble in his fingers. His friends haven't seemed to notice, although he could tell that Alec looked more worried than the others. The man's mouth opened and the others said something in reply, although he couldn't quite glean what they were saying.
"I'll make her get some soup ready, you just stick tight, ok?" Del ran off and into the bookstore, leaving Jace all alone.
Reaching for the handle again with a tremor in his hands, he forced the door open and yelped softly at the sound of the bell ringing. A blast of the air conditioning chilled him to the bone and made every muscle in his body shiver. Everyone but Quinn and Alex turned to look at him with a mix of shock and concern. Reed was the first one to stand up, heading through the kitchen doors to grab a towel. Mia and Alec came up to him asking about what happened. He felt himself gag at the slight scent of alcohol wafting off of them.
"I'm fine, guys, just caught up in the rain is all." Jace lied, but he felt like they could see through him. He pushed them away, careful not to get any of their clothes wet.
"Dude, you were gone for like twenty minutes!" Mia said, "we were getting worried."
Reed came back shortly with a towel in his hands. He wrapped it around Jace and said, "Winnie and Del are in the back making something. You good?" Jace noticed that it was times like this that the man's clumsiness just disappeared all of a sudden like nothing could stop him from helping someone. He was grateful for his friend's help.
"Are those the owners?" Alec turned to look at Reed. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around Jace despite the latter's soft objections.
"Yeah, they own this and the bookstore next to us."
Jace wanted to take the jacket off and run away back into the rain. His head still pounded and he was starting to get numb in his fingers, but he also felt too drained of energy to fight the others off. He wrapped the jacket around him a little tighter and focused on the softest scent of pine that it carried. It transported him back to his childhood, exploring the forests that he knew like the back of his hand with Alex and Lilith. Back before he felt like utter garbage all the time—when life was good. The pain in his head slowly faded away into the deep recesses of his memory.
Did Alec always smell like this?
Winnie burst through the kitchen doors wearing an apron and her reading glasses. Her caramel brown hair had been tied into a messy bun. Alex seemed to have broken out of her trance as she immediately stood up at the sight of their boss. "Alright, you two get in the kitchen and whip up our partner the best damn comfort food you've ever seen."
"Yes ma'am!" Reed and Alex shouted in complete unison, marching into the kitchen with Winnie following. This was her standard aggressive care maneuver in which she'd cook something up for one of them if they ever felt down. Most of the time, it was Jace on the receiving end of it, and it always reminded him just how much an impact she and Del had on his life.
"Aw come on, I was just about to win," Quinn remarked with a quiet groan as he stood up and noticed all that's been going on. He took one look at Jace—exchanging glances and silent words for a mere second before Quinn rolled his eyes and sat back down.
"Um...what's going on?" Mia pointed at the doors to the kitchen. "Was that the owner?"
"Yeah...Winnie's just cooking up some stuff." Jace answered. "I can ask her to make something for everyone."
Mia shook her head. "Would it be fine if I could help out in there?"
"Just ask before you do anything." He chuckled—the kitchen was sacred to Winnie, especially the one here at the cafe. She needed everything to be spotless and had daily rituals during both opening and closing every time so that everything was to her liking. Most importantly, she generally didn't like it when people who haven't earned her trust went into that kitchen. Not even Del, her own wife, was allowed to enter unless it was to grab something and leave.
Mia grinned from ear to ear and skipped over to the kitchen, humming some sort of melody as her voice intermingled with the cacophony of voices coming from inside.
Alec was the only one left. He clasped Jace's shoulder and smiled kindly. "Uh, keep the jacket for now. You can give it back to me another time."
"Are you sure?" Jace asked but silently hoped that Alec would be fine with it. There was something so nostalgic about this. Familiar, even.
"Call it...uh, paying a favor." Alec rubbed the back of his neck and smiled—he sat next to Quinn and started a conversation that Jace couldn't hear.
Paying a favor, huh? Jace sat down at one of the tables overlooking the street. The rain fell and tapped against the window like a melody—street lamps bathed the wet pavement in a soft orange glow. He rested his head against the glass and nuzzled against the soft leather jacket tightly wrapped around him. The panic and nausea were but an echo in his mind as he felt every bone in his body collapse in exhaustion. He was tired, and he wanted to do anything but relax.
But pinewood is pretty convincing to his senses. Right before sleep claimed him, a distant memory revealed itself from the darkest parts of his mind. He almost forgot that this happened. An image of him and Alec sitting at the edge of a dock looking up at the stars—his standard army jacket wrapped around the other.
The night before everything changed.
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