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zacc-attacc · 3 years

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Kissing In The Snow: A Javid Fic

This fic is lowkey shit and I might literally post a new one to apologize for this, but have it anyway!

Final Word Count: 3.2k

Triggers: There’s a bit of an anxiety attack, and a reference to self-harm. I put an * before the attack and bolded the self-harm reference so you stay safe! Love you nerds!

The plan was originally to drive through the night. After all, it was a long-term trip, and we both had a pretty uncanny ability to stay awake. Since we had two drivers, we could switch roles every now and again. But we only made it until a few hours after dark.

I knew there would be snow. After all, especially around New York, there was always snow during late December. But that… That was the type of storm that we hadn’t seen in years. The only time I think I had ever seen that much snow was when my family had traveled to Canada and they were hit with a snow storm. It was magical as a kid in a warm, safe cabin. But now, as an adult, driving on a dark road with the life of my best friend in my hands, it was downright terrifying.

Jack wasn’t fully asleep when I started to consider pulling over. After all, it was only around 10 PM, meaning he was in the dozing part of the night. It was just dark enough that he couldn’t sketch in his physical notebook, and he had put in his earbuds to try and drift off. He had offered to drive, since he was sure I was sleepy from waking up at 5 AM to pack, but I assured him that I was wide awake. And I really was. Slamming three Bang Energy drinks in the span of two hours would do that to a guy.

Snowflakes had started to fall about an hour ago. They were small ones, barely making a dent in our view. But the longer I drove, the bigger they got. Bigger, thicker, and falling faster. I knew that if I was outside, I would be soaked within three seconds.

The wind howled, not for the first time, whistling around the car and nudging it slightly across the icy road in an attempt to push us off. I could feel my anxiety rising as I frantically tried to keep the car on the road while staying calm, but something must have tipped Jack off, because he sat up from where he was curled by the window, stared at the weather, and looked at me with shock on his face.

“Jesus, Dave, it’s crazy out there!”

I felt my hands that I hadn’t even realized were clenching the wheel loosen at the sound of his voice. Despite the fact that I had just been talking on and off with him for seven hours, his voice still had a strange habit of making the world seem less terrible. Especially when paired with his eyes, wide, hazel-y green, and worried.

“Yeah,” I said, hearing that my voice was significantly higher than it usually was.

“Should we… Pull over? Find somewhere to stay for the night? We can’t sleep in the car, you’ll freeze-”

“I’ll freeze? Last I checked I’m not the only one who can contract hypothermia,” I cut him off, smiling internally at the ‘Mama bird’ side that was revealing itself (a side that normally only showed in dire situations or when one of their friends were injured).

“Yeah, but you’re a string bean. Nothing to you,” Jack pointed out. This was true, but only when compared to him. As the linebacker for Northwestern University’s football team, he had enough muscle on him to pass for a professional bodybuilder. It was funny that he was a football player while also majoring in art, while compared to the other players with their business and accounting majors. I knew he secretly hated the team, but he was playing football for the scholarship to put him through school, so it was either play or starve. Obviously, he chose to play.

I tried to take a left turn, starting to slope softly almost 50 feet away in order to be able to make the turn. It was still almost too much for the car, causing me to need to break completely to avoid hitting a sign that read Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks, 10 mi.

I felt my entire body tighten as I tried to steer without adding any additional momentum to our car careening across the ice. The tires were locked in place, and still sliding like the world’s most dangerous hockey puck. Jack had stopped talking, and was holding his breath right along with me as we continued to slide. Once we finally stopped, I put my head down on the steering wheel and tried not to cry from a simultaneous feeling of adrenaline and relief.

*********

I was shaking, harder than I had in a long time. I felt Jack’s strong, warm hand on my back, an anchor. He knew how my attacks worked, since he had seen me through middle and high school. They happened a lot less now, but that didn’t make them any better when they did hit, like a freight train of emotion and a loss of control. Where my lungs decided to say “I can’t do this anymore,” and stopped wanting to work. Where my face felt like it was set on fire, and my eyes were watering and I tired to keep everything under control but it all felt so hard and my thoughts were rushing and my heart was pounding in my ears and-

“It’s okay, Davey,” his low voice muttered.

Davey.

That damn nickname. The one only he had ever called me.

He was leaning over the gear stick now to hug me, pinning my arms to my side (I had… Old habits) He was rocking, his hand on my heart as he counted the beats with me, whispering into my ear.

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

**********

Once we got to sixty, I had calmed down a bit. I could breathe now, at least, and I had stopped crying.

“I think I’ll drive us the rest of the way. Is that okay, Dave?” Jack murmured. He was still holding onto me tightly, as if I could break at any moment.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding worn like it always did after an attack.

The moment I felt him pull away, I missed him. After all, he really was quite warm, and there was a winter storm outside. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.

I opened the car door, and heard Jack do the same behind me. The road was icy, icier than we should have been driving on. Then again, I guess that was kind of the whole reason we were dipping out rather than driving through the night.

As we were walking, I could feel my Timberlands beginning to lose the battle between gravity and friction. I looked up in an attempt to keep my balance, and saw Jack begin to topple. I instinctively reached out my arm to catch him, and we both spun in some strange, ice dance to keep our balance. Finally, Jack slapped the hood of the car to tether us both, hard enough that the alarm started to beep, shattering the night with its high tones.

Jack looked at me, and down at my arm, which I just noticed had somehow snaked around his waist in the struggle. I dropped it quickly, feeling my face heat up despite the snow, smiling awkwardly. Jack just patted my shoulder, and began to chuckle. A soft, not full-blown laugh at the situation. I found myself laughing right along with him.

His laughter had always been contagious.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“This is delux,” Jack grinned, unrolling his travel blanket onto the singular bunk bed. Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks turned out to be a dingy collection of cabins owned by an old woman looking to make a buck and offer hospitality to travelers.

“I’m glad you pulled over, you’ll catch your death in that type of storm,” Joanna said from the doorway, making sure we had enough blankets and brain cells to survive the night. The cabin was small, with a few bunks lining the walls. There was a hot plate on top of a little fridge, but the electricity had been kicked out from the storm, meaning those were both rendered useless. There was an oak door leading to what I guessed was a bathroom, and a light rattling sounding above us for what I assumed was the heating.

“Thank you for having us for free, ma’am,” Jack said for the eight billionth time that night. Joanna just tossed her head back in a light laugh.

“A sweet couple like you, and three days before Christmas no less? It’s no problem, really. I’m all for holiday cheer. Have a good night, you two,” Joanna said, turning and winking behind her shoulder as she walked away. I made eye contact with Jack, and noticed that he was blushing just as much as I was. We waited a few minutes to make sure Joanna was completely gone to continue unpacking.

“How many times has that happened now?” I asked, hanging Jack’s scarf over a vent so it could dry overnight.

“What?” Jack said, turning from making his bunk to look at me, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“We had a list of all the times… People thought we were dating. Back in high school, remember?” I smiled slightly at the memory, thinking back to all the time we used to spend with each other in high school.

No one was surprised when we went to the same college, since we had spent so much of high school half joint at the hip. Even our mutual friends were convinced we were secretly dating. It happened enough times that one day, Jack whipped out a notebook and wrote down all the times we could think of being asked. We just kept adding, until college happened and… I honestly don’t know what happened to the notebook.

“Oh, yeah, that! I think Medda tossed it out on accident… But we have our memories, right?” Jack said, regret flashing in his eyes. I just smiled at him sadly.

“Yeah. So, what time should we get going in the morning?”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was probably midnight when I heard a loud, metallic bang.

I sat up sharply, scrambling out of the sheets to make sure that Jack hadn’t hit his head and died from the top bunk.

“Dave, you okay?” Jack asked, glancing at me from his mattress.

“Did you hear that?” I questioned, gesturing to the ceiling where I had heard the bang.

“What?”

“Some sort of bang… I think the heater went out,” I said, suddenly realizing I couldn’t hear the rattle of the heating anymore.

“...Shit. Should we get Joanna?” Jack asked. There was a beat of silence as we made eye contact, and it dawned on me that neither of us wanted to wake up this poor old woman to tell her.

This is the height of being gen z. I thought, realizing how screwed we were.

“It… It’ll probably be fine,” I stammered, sitting back on my bunk. The air was already getting colder, and the wind howled against the cabin.

“...Get over here. You ain’t getting hypothermia on my watch,” Jack said, rolling his eyes and gesturing to himself. I felt my face heat up for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night.

“A- are you sure that you’re-”

“Oh, can it Jacobs. I don’t need your sister sicced on me because I didn’t do what I could to make sure you survived the night,” Jack pointed out, sounding mildly annoyed. I would’ve been more convinced if I didn’t see that he was also blushing, and had that look… That weird look he got when he was looking at a pretty girl or guy.

This is totally platonic. I reminded myself, climbing the ladder while holding my blankets. Jack nodded at me, tossing all of our blankets over the two of us.

I didn’t think I would be able to sleep with him right there, but something about his body heat and the crashing energy drinks was enough to lull me to sleep…

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Davey, you still sleeping?” Jack whispered. My eyes snapped open, and the events of the previous night hit me like a truck. I turned to look at Jack, who was still laying down beside me.

“Yeah,” I croaked. Jack nodded, and I felt him draw away from me.

Wait, away?

It was only then that I realized how close we are.

And that my head had been practically laying on his chest.

“Sorry,” I muttered, shifting away from him.

“It’s okay. Warmth, y’know,” Jack said gruffly, sitting up. I scooched away from him and climbed down the ladder, the cold air piercing my skin.

“We should get going soon… I’m sure Medda is ready to have my head for having you out on a night like that,” I pointed out, dashing to the assorted vents that had our assorted winter wear, half-dried.

“She could never, Dave, you know she prefers you,” Jack grinned, rolling his eyes.

“Well, she adopted you,” I pointed out. “She must’ve liked you enough to want you in her life forever.”

“She once threatened to take away my dessert privileges if we ever stopped talking,” Jack said, deadpan.

“Those brownies are no joke. I’m glad you were able to put up with me,” I chuckled.

“I don’t put up with you, Jacobs,” Jack said, self-deprecation seeping into his words. I stopped re-packing, and crossed the room to talk to him, being sure to drive my point home.

“Neither of us put up with one another, kay?”

“I- damn, Dave, makin’ us have a moment here,” Jack said, red creeping up his face. I stepped back, apologizing under my breath.

“No, no, it’s fine. You always had more of an emotional range then I did,” Jack shrugged, regret tainting his words.

A few minutes later, we were packed. Jack and I both had our jackets, scarves, mittens and hats on.

“I got it,” I said, grabbing the doorknob and pushing.

It didn’t budge. Not even a centimeter. I shook the door, throwing my weight onto it to the best of my ability.

“Let me try,” Jack said, grabbing my hand around the knob. I felt a sharp shock, and felt my heart kick into overdrive, pounding in my ears.

His hands were soft.

Jack was still struggling with the door, jiggling it aggressively.

“Its just a bit… Frozen,” Jack grunted, slamming the door with all of his linebacker strength. The door flew open, a few healthily sized pieces of ice spaying onto the fine bed of snow.

Jack had opened a door to a winter wonderland. Due to its remote location, Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks was peak stock photo winter.

The trees were frosted with white, like they were some sort of cake, or one of Jack’s drawings. There was a big, sprawling field with a few snow dusted cabins. The main house Joanna lived in was mostly cleared (we assumed she had cleared it herself… somehow), but by far the most shocking part was-

“Oh shit, my car,” Jack said, attempting to run across the lawn to the snow-covered lump that was his vehicle. This didn’t work well, since there was almost several feet of snow covering the ground. He had only made it about 10 feet when he collapsed into the drift, his legs having been unable to fight the snow.

I found myself half-laughing, despite being mildly worried as I helped him up.

“We are so screwed, Davey,” Jack said, his brow furrowing as his Manhattan twang set into his words. That’s how I knew he was really worried- his accent only set in when he was drunk, sick, angry, or stressed.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll call a plow, or a tow… We’ll find some way out of here,” I assured him, holding him by the waist so he wouldn’t fall. He leaned into me, obviously not against me touching him. Well, really it was his coat, but it still felt nice.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Jack asked. I could feel my phone vibrating in my coat pocket, probably the boys and our families asking where we are.

“I dunno… I might as well call now,” I shrugged, pulling out my phone and tapping on Google to find the number.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Thank you… Goodbye,” I said, just about to hang up when a powdery, cold something hit my back. I swiveled around to see none other than Jack, a small arsenal of snowballs beside him.

“Oh, you did not just-”

“I did, Jacobs,” he grinned maniacally. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You’re on!” I shouted, frantically grabbing snow and packing it into a solid ball. The snow was perfect for snowball fights, just the right texture. And I was wearing gloves, so it wouldn’t stick to any yarn on my mittens.

Jack pelted me with a snowball, hitting my shoulder with a solid thwack! I pretended to fall from the shock of the hit, then rolled towards him, tossing a ball at his neck. It hit him slightly above his collar bone, and I heard him laugh evilly as he ran towards me.

“YOU’VE MADE A MISTAKE FROM CHALLENGING ME, DAVEY JACOBS!” He yelled, attempting to grab me. I rolled away, standing above him with my superior five inches, and began to dodge snowballs, left and right while making my own.

“JOKES ON YOU, I LEARNED FROM THE MASTER-- SARAH JACOBS!” I screeched, hitting him in the head with a snowball.

“BUT I WENT AGAINST THE GREAT RACETRACK HIGGINS!” he objected, hitting my left arm.

“WHO LEARNED FROM SARAH JACOBS!” I shot back, hitting his lower thigh.

“AH, BUT YOU ARE NOT HER!” he pointed out, dashing away again in an attempt to confuse me.

“YES, BUT I AM HER BROTHER!” I said, dodging a ball from my right.

“THE MORE WATERED-DOWN VERSION, I SEE!” he shouted, attempting to dodge a ball coming for his torso and failing.

“OHO, YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THAT!” I yelled, smiling like a fool and running towards him to the best of my ability. He grinned darkly, and I realized my mistake.

I was attempting to tackle a college football player. First string.

Before I could even comprehend how terrible of an idea it was to try and tackle a football player as an English major with limited athletics experience, I was on the ground and-

His lips were on mine.

Too passionately to be accidental.

His hand had somehow made its way to my back, and he was holding me like he had in the night. And… It felt right. More real and right and perfect then I thought it would.

I grabbed his face so I could feel him closer. Though I think a part of me knew it would never feel close enough.

He was doing this thing, I think to keep us warm, where he was rubbing up and down my back to keep the heat. And he kept letting me pull him closer while we just laid there, kissing in the snow.

Kissing in the snow. A romantic concept, one that lovesick teens would only dream of doing. Kissing two days before Christmas. Kissing like it wasn’t the end of the world, like we had all the time in the world. Kissing my best friend. Kissing the man who knew how to get me back when I was drifting.

Kissing in the snow. Because sometimes, snow and too much time wasted away from each other was enough to make a teenage dream come true.

And maybe I was okay with a winter teenage dream.

I was okay with kissing in the snow.

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raywritesthings · 3 years

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Bird in a Storm, 10/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Quentin Lance, John Diggle, Helena Bertinelli, Raisa, Joanna de la Vega, Ted Grant, Female OCs, Male OCs Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

So far, so good, Laurel kept telling herself over the next week. Mr. Khan and his shop remained unharmed, those thugs hadn’t made any reprisals or found her out, and the police hadn’t come knocking on her door. She was in the clear.

But the clear wasn’t good enough. One night wasn’t good enough. If she was going to make any real difference in the Glades, she was going to have to keep on with it.

Time to get serious.

It was hard knowing what to do or how to proceed outside of just saying she would to herself, though. After all, even if she didn’t really want to imitate the Hood in all matters, she had to admit Ollie’s vaunted list gave him an itinerary. The best she could hope for would be to wander around and wait for crime to happen. Not that that was a far-fetched prospect in the Glades.

But she couldn’t just stand around at night in a ski mask, either. That would give people the opposite idea of what she was going for. So then, maybe some updates to her look were in order.

She reflected on this as she entered the thrift store. Ostensibly, she was grabbing some things for the approaching warmer weather, but she wasn’t above browsing around for ideas. Was a scarf too Western? Would it fall off too easily?

Beside the clearance racks where she’d picked out a new shirt was a small bin labeled “free”. Maybe she wasn’t absolutely destitute, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a look through.

Most of it was clothes that were completely out of season, not to mention fashion. A toy car that was missing one wheel and a few ugly patterned scarves were also in amongst the clutter.

Her thumb snagged an elastic band and she pulled out a black domino mask. Probably discarded from some Halloween costume. Laurel studied it for a moment, then slowly lifted it towards her face.

It’d be less sweaty, and easier to breathe in. Cheap as this one was. Maybe it’d be better to save up and make her own. She’d continued practicing hand-sewing during the slow hours at work, in the event that she might develop small holes or tears in her clothes that could be patched up instead of thrown away. And hand-stitching had other uses considering what she was planning.

Laurel left the mask in the bin and took her other purchases up to the register, mind still racing with ideas.

She’d need more than a mask to conceal her identity. But she didn’t want a hood. If she was doing this, she didn’t want to be seen as only some lackey of Oliver’s. This was her own mission, her own way.

A head covering in general would limit her visibility plus make her stand out pretty readily. She needed something discreet. Laurel didn’t have fancy arrows with lines attached that could pull her up the side of a building in moments. She had to be able to make a getaway, even in a crowd.

She needed to look like a woman.

It was so simple when it hit her. So long as she could be any woman — just some woman, with great hair and a body — they would never bother to see past the mask. She just had to not look like herself too much, that was the key. Dye was too permanent; a wig would disguise her hair better.

Over the next week she made the necessary purchases, each at a different shop and in cash. The important thing was not to let it be traced back to her.

As for weapons, she looked into something she could carry on her person. A baseball bat was way too conspicuous for a woman in her twenties to be walking around with. Eventually, she was drawn to a collapsible bo staff. She’d seen staffs hanging on the wall at the Wildcat Gym and knew Oliver used them for sparring practice with Mr. Diggle. It was a weapon she felt comfortable using with some practice, which she nudged a reluctant Ted into.

“I just want to try different things, you know?” She’d said with a casual shrug. “No point getting pigeon-holed.” Losing her job as a lawyer and realizing she had no real backup plan had taught her that the hard way.

She went out the first night she got all her gear together, knowing if she hesitated that she would find a way to talk herself out of it. The long hair of the wig swishing around her shoulders was a familiar weight. With her hands shoved in her jacket pockets — one hand over the staff and one hand over the mask, she walked around, watching and waiting.

Only she didn’t really find anything, other than a few catcalls. The next day, she saw there had been a reported mugging halfway across the Glades from where she’d staked out.

It was like this over the next few nights. She wasn’t where she needed to be or she’d get there just after she was needed. It occurred to her that this was probably why Oliver tended to stick to his list; it was full of ongoing problems he could investigate and then decide to attack in his own time.

She didn’t have the luxury of a base of operations or the ability to get into and out of high rises safely, though. And she wanted to be on the ground, handling the problems Jerome and Mrs. Ross had talked about. The problems she saw every day. She’d just have to get lucky.

The next night, she did.

The only gas station in the Glades was hit up for a robbery just as she was passing by. Laurel caught the flash of a gun out of the corner of her eye through the store window and quickly ran to the wall, flattening herself against it to get a better look. Two men, one pointing the gun and the other shoveling money from the register into a bag. They weren’t even bothering with ski masks, just hats pulled over their hair and jacket collars popped.

She glanced up at the security camera pointed at the front door. Its light was off. It wasn’t on, or perhaps it had never been plugged in.

Laurel got out her mask and extended the staff.

The door banged open as she stood and landed a hit low on the first man’s legs just as he ran out. He toppled over, his face smacking into the pavement. His partner in crime stumbled over him right into her fist, falling back against the wall. Laurel wrenched the gun out of his fingers and took note of the safety. Still on. The clip was empty. She shook her head.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy on the ground spat. There was blood on his lip.

“Just someone in the neighborhood.”

With two hits of her staff, they were both knocked unconscious. She picked up the bag of cash, opened the door again, and tossed it towards the counter at the clerk, who was watching with wide eyes. Laurel didn’t wait for a response, knowing her priority was now to get as far away from the scene as possible.

Her heart pumped with adrenaline as she fled several streets away, a wide grin stretched over her lips. She had done it, and it still felt great. What did a few boring nights matter if every so often she could manage something like this?

Of course, it began to take a toll on her schedule. She woke up later, didn’t have near as much time before work to get her day started. She saw the few friends she had less.

Joanna took it the hardest. “I’m not gonna see you at work when I go back, Laurel. And sorry, but you don’t have the excuse of being too busy to have a social life anymore. So do you just not want to be friends?”

“It’s not that, Jo. Never. I’m just… trying to work out some things. Figure out where my life’s going.”

Her friend had scoffed over the line. “Well let me know if I’m still in it.” She’d hung up shortly after.

It was easier now to see things from Oliver’s point of view; how he’d tried to maintain relationships without letting slip what was really going on in his life. It made her miss him fiercely.

They hadn’t talked much since after Mr. Merlyn’s hospitalization. Ostensibly, they still weren’t supposed to be friends, after all. And Laurel hesitated to reach out to him about her new nighttime activities; something told her he wouldn’t approve.

Well, that wasn’t Ollie’s job to approve or not, so it was simply better for the both of them if she kept it to herself. He had enough on his plate seeing as the Hood was still going out at nights, taking on the elites in this city.

She was just doing her part where she could, making sure the people he was trying to help got that help sooner rather than later. It was his upbringing, she knew, that caused him to see things the way he did. The big picture instead of the small.

Laurel would aim to improve things from the bottom up while he continued to work from the top down. Maybe they’d meet somewhere in the middle someday.

She did her best to brush aside that sort of wishful thinking. It would be silly to think after everything that there was any sort of future for them. She didn’t even know what future there was for herself.

But as long as she could do something good, she would keep going.

---

Anita was starting to wonder if her Avó had been right about coming to live in Brazil. These past few months in Starling had been crazy.

It wasn’t as if she hated it at Avó’s either. She loved the cooking, loved the weather, loved the language. The only trouble would be, as always, money. Jerome wasn’t near fluent enough in Portuguese to find good work, and she couldn’t be too sure of it herself. They were just getting by in the States, and as long as that was enough for them she’d be happy to stay.

She’d gotten lucky. While other girls had been chasing after gangbangers and potheads in school, her Jerome had gotten a job to support him and his grandma. He’d always been the responsible type.

His grandma had passed three years ago, and the medical bills and funeral arrangements had put a strain on their finances, enough to convince them to sell the old house to a developer and start renting. A real estate agent had assured them the Glades was going to start gentrifying and that they’d be able to get a good price.

Only the sale hadn’t yielded as much as they’d hoped, so they’d remained stuck in the Glades instead of moving to a better, safer neighborhood. It didn’t bother her so much right now. But in a few years when they might have kids on the way? She wanted them going to good schools, not the poor excuse for school she and Jerome had attended.

They did their best to save, but there was always something coming down the pipe they weren’t expecting. At least they didn’t have a car. The repairs would be killer.

There was always crazy stuff going on in Starling City these days, too. Ever since some guy had decided to become a souped up Robin Hood last fall and take out his anger issues on a bunch of rich folks. As long as he kept it to them, Anita didn’t mind so much. For the first several weeks or so, it had created a buzz of conversation through the neighborhood. This guy was trying to change things, maybe. And in some cases he did. Here or there, people got their money back.

But the wealthy were good at consolidating what they had. Companies transferred from corrupt CEOs to corrupt board rooms, money disappeared before it could be returned to the right owners. And this guy liked to drop bodies. That part, Anita wasn’t so keen on.

Because there were people getting more violent in the Glades now, too. Drug dealers, young and angry men unsupervised by the old mob hierarchy. This Hood didn’t seem to have a backup plan for any of that.

Jerome was frustrated by it far more than she was. “I mean, did we ask this guy to come here and fight for us? Stir up trouble? Did he come talk to any of us, see what we wanted?”

“No, he didn’t,” she dutifully agreed before bringing out both their dinners. She kissed him on the cheek as she went around him. “But it’d be hard for him to ask around without giving the game away, huh?”

“Yeah.” Jerome dug into his food and there was quiet from his end of the table for a while. “You know, the guys are saying there’s some woman out there now.”

“A woman?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well, good for her.”

He grinned. “You like that? They’re saying she’s a real, how’s it go — right, gata.”

Anita arched an eyebrow. “You gonna leave me for her?”

He kept grinning. “Never, baby, you know me better than that.”

“Then she can be as good-looking as she wants.” Anita pushed her plate aside and came over to him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

At work, she started hearing the rumors, too, over the next few days. “Nobody knows where she came from,” said Lanh in hushed excitement as they stood one sink apart. “But she gave a man following my roommate home a black eye the other night.”

“No kidding?”

“Yeah. It’s cool, isn’t it?”

No killing, dealing with stuff in the neighborhood. It was like someone had come in and asked around or sat in on their talks, then decided to make all their wishes and hopes come true in the form of a lady in black leather. Seemed crazy, but that was life now.

She stopped by next door to see Laurel, wanting to get her opinion. After all, wasn’t she here because of her support for vigilantism in the first place?

Only when her neighbor answered the door, it was clear she’d only just finished stitching up a nasty cut on her arm.

“Ooh, honey, what happened?”

“Just a work accident. Shears, you know?” Laurel let her in and hurriedly cleared up some bloodied napkins. “What’s up?”

Anita decided to leave her questioning behind. “Just wanted to see if you were free. We should have a night out, you know?”

“Okay, your place or mine?”

Anita waved a hand. “I was thinking a little more exciting than that. They’re saying the Verdant’s finally opening.”

Laurel raised both eyebrows. “Are they?”

“Mm-hm. Wanna check it out?”

“I don’t know…”

She leaned over the counter towards her friend. “Come on. Nights in only feel better if you go out sometimes, too. Variety’s the spice of life.”

“It’s going to be packed,” Laurel pointed out. “We’d be lucky to wait in line for three hours before getting in.”

“Couple of good looking girls like us?” Anita grinned. “Besides, you know the owner.”

Her friend shook her head. “Oliver and I aren’t that close anymore.”

“Right, which is why you call him Oliver and not ‘Queen’ or ‘my cheating bastard of an ex’,” said Anita. “Come on, billionaire boy owes you a million favors, so why not call one in? It’ll be fun. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

She watched Laurel debate it for a few minutes. “Alright. But if he says no, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He said yes, clearly, because Laurel sent her a text that afternoon saying what time they should be there. No mention of a cover fee either, which was interesting. She’d have to meet billionaire boy herself to be sure, but if Anita’s intuition was any good, she’d say Oliver Queen was still pining away for her neighbor despite his cheating past. So Anita would be happy to drink his booze and help her friend kick him to the curb if need be.

They walked to the Verdant together, skipping the line entirely by going through a back door Laurel had been told about. A man just about shorter than Jerome but beefier greeted them inside. “Laurel.”

“Mr. Diggle. This is my neighbor, Anita.”

He nodded to her. “Pleasure to meet you, miss.”

“You too. Swanky place,” she said, getting a good look around as she took steps further in. The bass was already vibrating in her bones.

“Um, if you could pass on our thanks to Oliver. I’m sure he’s very busy tonight,” Laurel was saying.

“I’m sure once he’s finished showing his family the place that he’ll be making the time. Mr. Queen’s been doing some re-evaluating lately. But I’ll let you enjoy your evening.”

“Re-evaluating?” Anita asked as they left the man to head out onto the main floor.

Laurel shook her head. “Let’s not get into that. I think our first drinks are on the house.”

The drinks were excellent, it turned out. Here and there they met a scant few familiar faces, and Anita introduced Laurel to them. She couldn’t help noticing that most of the patrons clearly weren’t from around here; too many Rolexes and real jewels on wrists. Looked like the gentrification had finally begun.

“I’m going to get us another round,” she spoke loudly into Laurel’s ear. Tonight wasn’t for thinking those kinds of things. It was for just letting loose and pretending life wasn’t so crap sometimes.

As Anita returned with the drinks, her pace slowed. There was a woman with dark hair standing behind her friend and gripping Laurel’s arm tightly. Anita ducked around a couple chattering away to get closer without drawing attention to herself.

To her surprise, Laurel seemed to recognize this stranger. “Helena?”

“Laurel, good to see you. Almost didn’t recognize you,” said the woman.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing personal, but I heard about your fall from grace. Must’ve stung when you realized Oliver wasn’t really there for you. He never is.”

“Let me go, Helena.”

“Sorry, but you’re my insurance policy. We’re going downstairs to wait for Oliver, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll come quietly.”

Anita had just about heard enough. She looked around frantically for the security — they were either at the doors or far against the walls and couldn’t see them out here in the throng of people. So she did the next thing she thought of.

“Hey!”

The woman turned towards her direction just in time for Anita’s drink to splash in her face. She staggered back, gasping in shock.

And that was when Laurel sprang into action.

Anita had been planning to take her friend’s arm and run for it, but Laurel’s arms were moving and the woman was down on the floor in seconds, her arms pinned behind her back. She kicked out with both feet, heel gouging Laurel’s leg. Laurel gave a grunt that was only barely heard over the music, sitting on the woman’s thigh hard.

“Hey!”

“What the—”

“Is it a fight?”

“Yeah! Awesome!”

There was a small crowd growing around them, and Anita felt herself pressed between people on either side. Laurel’s arm bore long scratches while she held the woman’s head in a lock Anita could swear she’d never seen outside WWE.

“Excuse me! What’s going on here?”

Anita’s eyes bugged out as suddenly Oliver Queen cut through the crowd on her right. His eyes widened for a moment before he plunged in and grabbed Laurel around the waist, pulling her off the woman. Once she was set down behind him he yanked the other woman up as well, pulling her towards the exit.

The man who let them in before took Laurel’s arm and guided her after them. “Come on, Laurel,” she thought she read off his lips.

Anita rushed after them.

Oliver Queen was shouting at the woman named Helena when they all got outside. “If you ever come after someone I care about again—”

“My father—”

“Is no longer your concern! You do not have any business in Starling, Helena, and you will stay far away from here. Or else.”

Helena’s eyes flashed with anger, but she stalked off into the night.

“Wow,” Anita breathed in the silence. Oliver Queen looked a little surprised and discomforted to find he had an audience.

“Um…”

“Figured it was better for appearance’s sake if both parties caught fighting were escorted out,” Mr. Diggle said.

“And she’s my friend, so I’m sticking with her,” Anita added in explanation.

Oliver Queen nodded before turning to Laurel, one hand touching her arm. “Are you okay?”

Laurel shrugged. “Just fine.”

“What were you thinking?” He asked next. “Helena is dangerous—”

“So I was supposed to let her take me hostage?” Laurel finished for him, eyes narrowing.

“She’s a killer, Laurel.”

Anita’s eyebrows rose at that.

“And I had it taken care of. She was hardly going to kill me if she wanted to take me somewhere.”

The two of them were in each other’s faces, close enough to share the same air. She doubted either of them noticed.

“If something had happened—”

“It didn’t. Can’t you focus on that?”

“But it could have!”

“There’s no point to wondering what could have been, Ollie! Believe me, I’ve tried!” Laurel turned around and started marching away from him, the effect ruined somewhat by a slight limp.

Oliver Queen sighed. “Laurel, wait. Let Digg look at your leg.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Then let me call you a cab. Please.”

Laurel paused, and Anita took the opening. “We’ll take a cab, yeah.”

Laurel fixed her with a frown.

“Honey, you’re bleeding.”

A few minutes later, they were bundled into a cab and leaving the Verdant. What a night out. Jerome was never going to believe this. She’d heard the odd thing here or there since Laurel had moved in and knew of her gym classes, but damn, her friend was a brawler when she wanted to be!

They were halfway home when it hit her. “Shit, that was mob girl, wasn’t it? Huntress or something? She was the one going around whacking her dad’s people.”

Laurel sighed. “Yeah.”

“Okay, then billionaire boy might have a point. Cause they were saying that girl was nuts, you know? Not somebody to get mixed up with.”

“Wasn’t trying to, believe me. But I’m not going to go along and let things happen to me anymore, Anita. That’s not who I am.”

“Probably a good attitude to have in this town. Maybe I should pick Capoeira back up,” she mused.

“Capoeira?”

“Afro-Brazilian fighting style. I took classes after school for a bit, like the Irish girls that do line dancing, you know? There was a place down by our old laundromat. Wonder if it’s still open.”

“We could take a look together. If it’s okay for others to learn,” Laurel added after a moment.

“Sure, but aren’t you busy as it is at that gym?”

Laurel shrugged. “I could make time. And anyway, we’d get to see each other.”

Anita smiled. “Alright, we’ll check it out. But after that leg of yours is better. You’re gonna need it in good condition, believe me.”

They got out in front of Laurel’s and Anita helped her into the house, insisting she help get the leg cleaned up at the least. “You got something to numb that?”

“Not really.”

“Tell me you don’t have work first thing tomorrow.”

“I can manage.”

Anita pushed her hair back. “I mean, what did that bitch want anyway? Why’d she try to take you somewhere?”

Laurel shrugged, her eyes on the floor. “She dated Ollie a few months back.”

“Oh.” Jealous ex to the extreme, then. “You need anything else?”

“No, you should get home.”

“Okay, well just text me, alright? Get plenty of sleep.”

“I will, Anita.” Laurel stiffened when Anita leaned in to hug her. It took a moment for her friend to relax in her arms. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Anita let herself out so Laurel wouldn’t have to get up right away. The younger woman still seemed a little stunned; she suspected Laurel had been the big sister and minder to so many people over the years that she’d forgotten what it was like to have someone looking out for her for a change.

She and Laurel signed up for an intermediate class after they both tested into it; her because of her prior experience and Laurel because she was already quick on her feet. Anita could tell the class was going to kick her butt and complained to Jerome about it for hours as he rubbed her feet after the first lesson.

“Guess someone was a little jealous of that woman in black after all,” he teased.

“Yeah, just you wait. My legs are gonna look fantastic. You’ll be picking your jaw off the floor.”

As the days went on and there were more growing rumors of this woman in the Glades, she felt herself newly inspired. When women looked out for each other, it made the neighborhood all the better.

Though the more she heard and the more she watched Laurel’s determined look in their classes, the more the mysterious woman seemed less like a stranger, and more like someone she knew. Crazy as that sounded.

---

Quentin had taken to keeping an ear out for crimes in the Glades. It both increased his blood pressure and soothed his nerves, because the amount of criminal activity coming out of there was unheard of. But so far, his daughter hadn’t been mixed up in any of it.

Statistically, he worried it wouldn’t last. But what could he do? He’d raised her to be fiercely independent, and his initial bad reaction when Laurel had perhaps been at her most vulnerable ensured she would never take his charity. He was lucky enough that she was still speaking to him, especially after he’d brought her mother over for a truly appalling attempt at reconnecting.

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He couldn’t blame his estranged wife entirely for what had happened to Sara; it wasn’t as if she could have known what would happen out at sea. Bitterly, it occurred to him that by the same token, he couldn’t blame Queen then, either. Even if the man himself believed it, he hadn’t killed Quentin’s daughter.

Even more distressing, perhaps, was how much and how little Queen and Dinah had done to try and make amends with Laurel respectively. Where Queen had been nothing but repentant, Dinah had given excuses. She hadn’t even seemed to truly grasp what she had done wrong until Laurel had spelled it out to her.

She’d left a couple weeks ago, shaken and doubly discouraged when Laurel’s old friend at the Chinese embassy had confirmed the girl in the picture with the Rockets cap wasn’t their baby girl. Just another young woman who had bought a baseball cap on any ordinary day. He hadn’t given Laurel that news yet; he suspected she’d already guessed.

He picked up and then set aside the photo on his desk with his two girls. In some ways, he felt equally distant to them these days, though he knew he was kidding himself. The damage he’d done to his and Laurel’s relationship was entirely his own doing, not a random act of nature. He should stop wasting the time and make amends.

“Got a situation on 7th and Shane Street,” an officer announced to the bullpen, snapping Quentin out of his reverie. “Might need a couple detectives, cause we’ve got witnesses.”

Quentin stood. “I’ll go.” 7th and Shane was right in the heart of the Glades. He didn’t think it was all that far from that flower shop, come to think of it.

He drove over to find a bus pulled to the side of the road. It didn’t look to be damaged any. The driver and a few passengers stood around, the latter group all waiting for rides. A few men lay on the ground, welts on their faces and black eyes starting to turn into ugly bruises as they were cuffed by the officers. He ducked under the police tape and walked over to the group of witnesses.

“Alright, can anyone tell me how this whole thing started?”

“It was the hijackers,” a man near the back mumbled.

“The what?”

“The hijackers, man.” He was nudged by a woman at his left, probably a girlfriend or wife. She eyed the gun at Quentin’s belt warily. He carefully reached for a notepad and pencil to keep his hands occupied with that.

“And who are these hijackers?”

“They’ve been hitting the buses, usually on payday, sir,” the girlfriend spoke up. “Part of a newer gang.”

“Uh-huh. Was the SCPD informed of this?”

There were murmurings. Everyone too afraid to say yes. He frowned.

“How long ago did this start?”

“Little after the Bertinelli mob fell, sir.”

“It’s been horrible. They take everything you got. Money, jewelry, smartphones. We’re sitting ducks the whole route home!”

There were a bunch of voices shouting at him now, all wanting to be heard. One woman’s voice in particular stuck out amongst the group thanks to its heavy accent; an older woman in a housemaid’s uniform under her coat.

“They wanted my chotki,” she said, showing them all a black rope with many knots and beads in a few places, tied in a cross at the end. “It is wool and wood, what could they want with that? They were brutes. But she saved us.”

“She?” Quentin asked, stepping towards her. He thought he recognized this woman. Wasn’t she one of the Queens’ people?

Scarcely had he thought it before Oliver Queen himself came running up to the yellow tape. “Raisa!”

“Mr. Oliver!”

Just his luck. Quentin headed over as Queen lifted the tape to let Ms. Raisa out. “Just a minute,” he called.

Queen turned back to him. “Detective Lance, I came here to make sure Raisa got home safely. She’s been through enough for one night.”

“She’s not in trouble. I just need her to finish her statement. Now, who is ‘she’?”

Ms. Raisa shrugged. “No one really knows. They call her ‘the woman’.” She smiled warmly. “I believe tonight she was an angel.”

“Right,” he said.

“Was that everything, Detective Lance?” Queen asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright. Get her home.”

The two of them left, Queen leaning down to ask his housemaid a question Quentin couldn’t hear. He turned back to the group which was gradually starting to disperse. There were no useful additions other than someone saying a woman showed up a few minutes after the hijackers forced the bus to pull over.

The Hood. Now the Woman. Just great. Why had this city all of a sudden decided to go nuts?

He swung by Laurel’s place on his way back to the station and knocked. No one answered after a minute, but the light was on. He knocked again, louder.

“Just a second!” His daughter called out. She wrenched the door open in leggings and a blue tank top. “Dad! What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I visit my daughter?” His bravado covered his nerves, but relief was his primary emotion as she stepped back to let him inside.

“Were you on a call somewhere?”

“Yeah. There’s been some trouble with the bus routes. You don’t ride those often, do you?”

“Just to visit Joanna at her mom’s. Or to get downtown if I needed to.”

“Yeah, well stay off them at night, alright? There’s been gangs hitting them.”

“I know.”

That drew him up short. It occurred to him that these days, Laurel perhaps had an even more advance warning on crime in the Glades than he did. All the more reason to hate this arrangement.

He watched with narrowed eyes as she lowered herself onto her couch with a wince.

“What’s wrong with your back?”

She stiffened and winced again. “Oh, just work. I was lifting a lot of mulch bags today.”

Quentin shook his head. His poor girl had always had a willowy build. She was delicate, even if he’d made sure she knew how to defend herself in a tight spot. “You’re not meant for this kind of work, Laurel. We gotta find you something else.”

“This is doing me fine. Besides, I’m pretty sure to get law work, I’d have to leave Starling.”

“Shouldn’t have discouraged you from taking that corporate job in San Francisco,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” she told him. “I’m glad for the help I was able to give people at CNRI and for the help I can hopefully still give people here.”

He sighed. “Hopefully. You know, you can do anything you set your mind to, honey. I really do believe that. But what’s your plan here?”

She smiled. “I’m figuring it out, dad. I promise.”

He left soon after, since he was technically still on the clock at the precinct. Laurel told him she would head to bed shortly to rest up, and he made a note to grab some of those icy hot packs for her at the store. He thought he could play it off like an overdue Christmas present to get her to accept them. Hell, he owed her enough Christmases and birthdays from the last five years he could probably supply her through next March. If she was still breaking her back doing this work by then.

Laurel wasn’t the only one who needed a plan. Quentin had been keeping an eye on Daily in the close to two months since he’d been back on the force. There were no obvious slip ups, but he could just tell there was something off about the man. Call it his gut. Now with this bus hijacking situation having been swept under the rug for as long as it had been, he was starting to wonder just how many of his own people he could trust.

Was it genuine malice or just apathy for a neighborhood that saw enough hard times already? He wasn’t sure which was worse at the end of the day. But it was causing unrest, causing more and more people to turn to alternate means to seek justice.

By the end of the week, they saw an example of the worst of it; some guy in the subway tunnels committing extrajudicial killings and calling himself the Savior. The Hood had been forced to put him down to save the likes of that kid Harper. The Hood at least seemed to understand that vigilantes couldn’t be allowed free reign of this city, even if he continued to operate in it.

So he finally made the call.

Quentin stood out back behind his apartment building, the vigilante phone in his hand. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the precinct when he made this call. Just thinking about if someone caught him in the act — maybe Daily, maybe Hall with her earnest regard for the law — had his hands shaking.

“Detective?”

“Yeah, listen, we gotta talk. With everything going on in this city, with the force, I’m having trouble deciding who to trust. Now I don’t trust you,” he wanted to make clear. “But you’re a known quantity. I know what you want, what you’re willing to do.”

“And how does that help you?”

“It helps me because I think there’s some people on the force I can’t trust, and I don’t know what they want either.” Could be money, could be they felt threatened, could be they were always rotten. “Now I know you’ve figured out how to spy on us. I need you to tell me who’s on the take.”

“It’s not something I was concerning myself with.”

“Well start concerning yourself with it. You want people to stop popping up like this Savior or this Woman, it starts with law enforcement being a trusted and respected institution. You can’t tell me you expect things to magically stay better whenever you finally decide to hang that hood up?”

There was a long pause. “I’ll look into it, Detective. Keep the phone on you. I’ll call.”

Then the line went dead. Quentin breathed in and out once and headed back into his building. He hadn’t exactly done anything wrong. He’d simply pointed out an issue the Hood had likely been tangentially aware of and asked him to direct his attention towards it. Whatever happened after… well, maybe he was partly to blame.

Would Laurel ever call him a hypocrite if she found out about this or what?

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

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spones-in-my-bones · 4 years

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Spones Amusement Park Date

OK SO I’ve had this in my WIPs for YEARS, and it’s an outline for a fic, so not fully written out fyi. The idea is basically: McCoy and his 5 y/o daughter Joanna going to an amusement park and on the way they meet Spock who is studying human culture and due to Reasons they invite him along. And then Romance happens ???

(The things they do (rides, games, etc) in the park in the fic are based upon going to Knott’s Berry Farm and Disneyland with my family as a kid, and what traditions we had when we went! It was a fun way to put that personal touch into a story, imo. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! (Also it’s like 4,600 words, full of run-on sentences bc rambling, and gets more fleshed out as it goes)

Let's just take a second to imagine Spock on Earth studying Terrans and their culture, and he bumps into McCoy, someone he met at the academy a week before. Let's just say, they did not get off on the right foot, and now are avoiding each other a bit. McCoy is with Joanna, and Joanna asks who Spock is, and McCoy introduces him.

Later on that same morning, Joanna wanders off and Spock saves her from nearly getting hit by a car (kinda dramatic but ok), and McCoy decides to give his impression of Spock another chance by inviting him to the amusement park with them. Spock declines at first, but then McCoy asks what his other plans are, and Spock say study Earth ways, to which McCoy says that an amusement park is a vital part of terran society and culture, thus convincing Spock to join them.

The first thing Joanna does is take out her small camera and take pictures of everything, especially her father and new friend. The next, of course, is to get some cotton candy. Spock and McCoy both dislike the pure sugariness of the cotton candy, and Joanna doesn't mind since she gets it all to herself.

Then the first ride they go on is sure to be the spinning teacups, which Spock remarks that it is illogical to sit in something designed for drinking out of, but McCoy simply rolls his eyes and pulls him into the cup before they start moving. when they get off, McCoy is a bit dizzy and thus stumbles, Spock catching his arms and straightening him. McCoy thanks him as Joanna rushes ahead and snaps another photo of the two. Then it's off to the log ride, where McCoy and Joanna get on, but Spock declines, instead going to observe the shops nearby in the meantime.

McCoy calls Spock a party pooper and Joanna does as well and they both go off to the log ride when they return, Joanna and McCoy are drenched, and thus walk around in the sun to dry off as they look for Spock, who's looking curiously at one of the many VERY old-fashioned holographic games in which you attempt to knock down stacks of bottles with a ball. Joanna sees a large stuffed Shelat (just for fun, it's a sehlat) that she wants, and McCoy says he'll give it a shot and gets four balls. He throws the first one and utterly misses, just saying that he was warming up. The second one misses as well, and Joanna says that her dad isn't very good at this. Spock then inquires if he might make an attempt, and McCoy says go for it. Spock nails it on the first try, winning the bear for joanna. Still having one more ball left, the guy behind the counter makes a wager that if Spock can hit a very difficult target, he'll get two bears, the sehalt and teddy bear instead of just one.

McCoy asks Joanna and Joanna accepts, telling Spock that she believes in him. Spock picks up the ball, calculates as necessary, and nails the hit, winning a total of two stuffed bears for joanna. Joanna places them in her bag, the two bears sticking out of the top from just under their arms.

After then, the three ventured into the kid's zone of the amusement park, where a lot of Joanna's favorite rides were. There was a miniature racetrack, where Joanna picked her favorite car, number 3(like the three of them!), and raced around the small, safe track as Spock and McCoy watched, McCoy taking pictures for his daughter. Then it was off to the the large spinning swings. Joanna loved them because they made her feel like she was flying. McCoy noticed that Spock was looking around the balloon animals at the time, which were still a big hit. McCoy explains them and then asks for a balloon hat for Joanna in the shape of a starship. Spock is impressed at the craftsmanship, and needless to say Joanna is elated at the sight of the hat.

Finally, it was time for the roller coaster. Joanna was tall for her age, which was 8 years old, and thus she was now able to ride the roller coaster she had been waiting literally all her life for. The Gallelio Thunder. Spock inquired about it's odd name, and McCoy explained that it was an indoor, underground rollercoaster that projected stars everywhere, so it was as if you were actually travelling through space. Though he supposed Spock had already seen space on his trip from Vulcan, so it's probably nothing like the real thing.

Spock was going to wait outside as Joanna and McCoy went inside, but Joanna asked if Mr. Spock would please come with them. She said that the ride was three seats across, and so they had to have three people or else it wouldn't work. When Spock asks what wouldn't work, McCoy comments that Joanna is afraid she'll fall off of the coaster if there isn't a person on each side of her. But not to worry, since these are really safe. Spock says that he will join them for Joanna's sake, and follows them into the ride.

In the long line there, Joanna gets really nervous, and thus holds her dad's hand. When they get to the front, she becomes even more nervous, and grabs Mr. Spock's sleeve, to which Spock and McCoy look at her and McCoy apologizes. Spock says that there is no need for apology, and McCoy smiles a bit. It's their turn, finally, and, after Joanna's height is checked and confirmed, they walk over, McCoy leading the way into the car and taking the farthest of the three seats. Joanna is shaking with anticipation as McCoy buckles her seatbelt and pulls the restraint over her head to her chest. Spock follows suit and then finally McCoy does his own.

Time for liftoff.

The roller coaster starts off slow, climbing up a great hill as panels on the walls mirror the reflections of the passengers in the car. McCoy appears very unsettled, Joanna is grinning widely, and Spock is looking around curiously at their surroundings. As they reach the top, the lights dim more and more until they are surrounded by darkness. Joanna instinctively reaches for her father's hand, squeezing much tighter than an eight year old should be able to. Then they stop as the car climaxes the peak. Surrounding them is a true work of art that is nature's universe around them. The stars twinkle in a variety of colors, and you can practically feel the heat coming off of the sun to their left. It was beautiful sight to behold. "Get ready, now." McCoy warned as the car jolted a little bit. The brakes released and the car went plummeting downwards into a multi-colored nebula. The stars stretched and flickered in their sight as the car sped by, fast as a shuttlecraft. A moment later they swirled with the track's loops and then flicked across their vision as they made sharp turns. Then, the car climbed one final hill, taller than the first, and at the peak was a view of the entire underground galaxy, all of the stars, planets, asteroids, meteors and nebulae the eyes can see. Right before you. As if you could reach out to it. But no one dared to as the gravity of the final drop was all too sudden to do so. The car raced to a slow crawl into the station, each of the passengers speechless. McCoy considered himself lucky that scared silence ran in his family rather than scared screaming. After that ride, he and Spock both surely would have lost their hearing.

The three exited the ride, McCoy more slowly than the rest as he stomach tried to catch up with him. Joanna was jumping around saying that it was so awesome and amazing and she wanted to go again, but McCoy protested, saying that he didn't think he could handle another ride. Joanna made a sad face as she 'awwww'd, walking up the incline that led to the exit of the ride's building. Spock then suggested that he could take her on the ride, and Joanna said "yes, yes, yes! Pleeeeeease daddy, let Mr. Spock take me!" He then asked if Joanna was afraid of falling out if she wasn't surrounded, and she said that Mr. Spock would protect her, just like earlier today. How could McCoy argue with that?

(he could, but listen)

McCoy said very well and Joanna jumped around happily and gave Mr. Spock a hug around his waist, which she could just reach. McCoy and Spock are both shocked at this unexpected behavior, but McCoy just smiles as Spock stands there awkwardly. McCoy walks with them to the ride, but instead of getting on, passes through, taking joanna's bag and balloon hat for her, and says that he'll be at the restaurant at the exit when they're done. Joanna nods and says thank you to both him and Mr. Spock before the ride starts and McCoy steps back, watching them take off into the galaxy together.

Almost fully exhausted from their energetic day, the first thing McCoy does is go into the restaurant and sit down. He notices the virtual pinball machines against one wall, and takes out a few coins for Joanna when she gets back. He sat back in the fully metal, yet oddly comfortable chair that was one of four at the table, and shut his eyes with a content sigh. Joanna and him had always had fun when they did this twice a year, but this year he felt much more, well, relaxed. What had changed? Well, sure Joanna was older, but it had to be more than that. Could it have been Spock? McCoy opened his eyes and looked to Joanna's small blue backpack that held the two plush bears Spock had won for her earlier. He noticed that one was falling out, and thus adjusted it in the bag so that the two were side by side comfortably.

Maybe it was Spock.

"Daddy!" The excited sounds of his daughter call out to McCoy, who set the bag holding the bears down and hugged his daughter as she ran up to him. He asked her if she enjoyed herself, and she said yes and that Mr. Spock said he did too. McCoy grinned at Spock. “Is that so?” Spock nodded. “It was a competent source of entertainment.” Bascially meaning that he had fun in Vulcan. McCoy asked Joanna if she wa hungry, which he gets a hearty reply. McCoy asks Spock if he is hungry as well, and Spock says that he is “indeed in need of nourishment”. McCoy chuckles and rolls his eyes at the Vulcan’s phrasing.

He tells Joanna to order at the screen beside their table and then gives her the coins so she can play pinball. If he had something odd to be proud of in his daughter, it would be her skills at a pinball machine. He taught her so well that she nearly beats /him/, and she's only eight. "Dr. McCoy," Spock begins as he takes as seat across from McCoy. "Look, Spock, we're at an amusement park, not the academy. You can call me Leonard." Spock is hesitant for a moment. "Very well, Leonard." McCoy smiles at his name and orders his food, giving Spock some recommendations. He looks back over at Spock and bites his lips together in an effort to hold back a laugh.

“Well, I’ll be. You’ve got uh-” he motioned to the top of his own head-the place the hair was standing askew on Spock’s own.

Spock piqued a brow before reaching his hand up and in one smooth motion, flattened his hair.

“I didn’t know that it could do that.”

Spock gave him a confused look.

“It’s just-you appear to be so...” McCoy gestured in the air. “Meticulous? That I didn’t think it was possible for a single hair to be out of place.”

“I assure you, the hair of Vulcans reacts very similarly to human’s. Perhaps you have mistaken me instead for a statue?”

McCoy laughed at that. “Maybe, but good to know that you’re just like the rest of us. In all the good ways, of course.” He winked at Spock, causing the Vulcan’s brow to soar higher and make McCoy let out another laugh. This time, he caught Spock eyeing him with a sort of... fondness? Maybe he’s starting to relax, finally.

Just as McCoy was about to speak, Joanna came over, exclaiming that she had gotten the third highest score on the game. McCoy says 'atta girl' and moves her bag so she can sit down beside him.

Their food arrives moments later, McCoy having a nice thin slice of meat on his plate surrounded by vegetables, Spock ordering a full fruit and vegetable plate, and Joanna ordering the kid version of what her father has."If memory serves, most Vulcans are Vegetarians. Is that right, Spock?" McCoy asks and he peeks down at Spock's salad plate.

"Your memory is correct, doctor."

"Leonard, please," McCoy grins up at Spock, "You are eating dinner with us, after all. So, how important would you say vegetables are?"

Spock raises a brow at the question, but before he can say anything, he sees the doc-...Leonard motion to Joanna, who is currently picking at her vegetables. "They are incredibly important, as they are my main source of nourishment."

Leonard makes an expression of faux surprise, turning to his daughter. "You hear that. Jo? Fruits and vegetables are /very/ important to eat. Even Mr. Spock thinks so."

“But that's /all/ he eats," Jo whimpers, picking at her broccoli. "And Mr. Spock's not a human, so it's different.” “That may be true, but-”

“I am half human,” Spock offers. McCoy raises both his brows at the information. “My mother is human, and it is true that a balanced diet, containing vegetables, is crucial to maintaining one's health. This applies to both you and Leonard as well.”

McCoy smiles, mentally stumbling at the sound of his first name in Spock's voice for a second before turning back to Jo. “See? Spock may not be a doctor, but he knows his stuff.”

Joanna frowns, simply picking at her vegetables before eating them with disdain. McCoy chuckles a bit, tilting his head towards Spock in thanks.

When they had finished eating, it was already nighttime, meaning the park was closing soon. Spock was saying that he must be going, but Joanna protested, saying that they only had one more thing to do before they left. McCoy agreed with his daughter and said that it wouldn't be much longer. After some thought, Spock agreed and they walked down towards a giant fountain that stood in the center of the park. McCoy then left saying the he's going to a stand that they had just passed and would be back in a minute, leaving Joanna with Spock just 20 feet away.

Joanna looked up at the stars, saying that she loved the night because she could see other worlds then. She then asked if Mr. Spock that if he was an alien, that meant he was from another planet, right? which he said he was. She followed up by asking which star was his planet in the sky. Spock said you cannot see it from here, bug pointed out the orion's belt, and said that it was the far left star there, the one that shined a bit dimmer than the rest, is where his galaxy was, and his planet was in that galaxy. Joanna spotted it and commented that she wanted to go there someday and meet more people like the kind Mr. Spock.

McCoy returned a split second later with three fresh churros, handing one to Joanna and one to Spock. Spock tried to deny the food, but McCoy insisted, saying that it was a dessert on Earth that was meant to be eaten on such an occasion as visiting an amusement park. And that he knew Vulcans well enough to ensure it didn't have any sugar. Spock then accepted the treat and Joanna said that he cannot eat it yet, and that he had to wait. Spock inquired as to why, and McCoy said that it's tradition with the two of them.

McCoy then led the way to what appeared to be an old wooden house in the middle of the amusement park. When they walked around the side of it, a train was revealed to be hidden behind the old house, and Joanna immediately ran to it. Not having seen this before, Spock asked what this was, and McCoy explained that it was an antique steam-powered train that the park ran once per night. They followed Joanna to the third of the eight passenger cars and sat down across from one another. Not too many people were on the train that night, so they ended up getting that open-air car to themselves. McCoy told Spock that the side they were sitting on was better, and asked him to come over. Spock asked as to why it was better, and McCoy said that he would see soon. Spock moved and sat next to McCoy, Joanna on the Doctor's other side near the head of the car, eagerly looking out of the side waiting for the train to go. Moments later, the train jolted to start, McCoy bumping into Spock with it's force, however Spock caught him. McCoy apologized, feeling a hear rise to his cheeks, and Spock said there was no need. The train chugged steadily as it made its way around the park, passing by the teacup ride, log plunge, kid's zone, and finally the building for Gallileo's Thunder before halting to a stop at the back of the park. Spock asked why they had stopped and McCoy said to wait a minute and he'll see. Joanna said that they could eat their churros now, and the three of them unwrapped it and took a bite at the same time, all together enjoying the still warm, sugary bliss they held in their hands.

All of a sudden, just about every single light in the park went out at once, leaving a sole light from the large fountain to illuminate the center of the park. The light changed from green to yellow to red and made its way through the entire rainbow before halting on a bright, watery blue

Tiny white orbs of light flew up from the fountain, making a set formation above it.

White lines connected the orbs to one another, creating a very familiar pattern; that of Ursa Minor. As soon as they all were connected, the constellation sprung to life, dancing in an elegant manner. More white orbs floated up, creating another constellation that was known as Cassiopeia. It joined in the dance with Ursa Minor, flowing around the fountain as if they could walk on air. Soon enough, more and more constellations joined them, sharing the dance of the stars before everyone's eyes.

McCoy laid his head on his arm that was resting on the top of the bench he sat on. His eyes were calm, and his face aglow. This had to be his favorite part of the entire day. Curious, he looked over at Spock, who seemed to be fully engaged in the light show. McCoy couldn't blame him. Holograms or not, it was still a beautiful show.

There... was something about Spock's eyes. Something that captivated McCoy as a whole. No matter how much he wished to look away, he couldn't. After today, he had a hard time believing that the stubborn Vulcan he had met before was the same one he had spent nearly the whole day with. But he was. Both of them were, he chuckled. Spock was both of these men, both stubborn and kind, blunt and gentle. And McCoy liked it.

He liked... him.

Spock.

After the light show had ended in an explosion of glittering stars, all of the lights slowly came back on in the park, and McCoy found himself still staring at Spock's eyes. When Spock looked to him however, he found the energy to look away and over at Joanna. She was sitting a few feet away from him on his other side, clapping for the amazing show they had just witnessed. "Mr. Spock, Mr. Spock! Did you see the lights? Did you like it?" Joanna asked, practically jumping up and down in her seat. McCoy knew that he should not have given her that sugar so late. "I did see it. It was quite... Interesting." Spock stated, unable to hide the sliver of fascination in his voice.

The train jolted to a start again, McCoy being pushed into Spock again by the force, his hand landing on top of the Vulcan's. McCoy immediately withdrew his hand and cleared his throat, apologizing for the sudden bump. Spock said there was no need to apologize and McCoy could feel his face redden.

After they got off the train, they headed straight towards the exit of the park, Joanna snapping a few more pictures along the way. Joanna halted the two of them before they could leave and walked up to a member of the park's staff, asking if she could take a picture for them. The woman accepted and set them up for a photo. Spock attempted to leave and let just McCoy and Joanna get a picture, but they pulled him back in, saying that he was with them the whole day, so he has to suffer through one last picture with them. McCoy held up Joanna on his right side so she was in the center of the two adults. Joanna smiled widely at her dad and new friend as the camera flashed with a couple of pictures. This day had been perfect for her, and she was happy to have photos to look at later on so she could remember this day.

About halfway through the parking lot, Joanna began to walk slowly and yawn. McCoy, noticing this, asked her if she was tired, to which she replied that she wasn't. She yawned again. Okay, maybe a little. McCoy picked her up and carried her, her head resting on his right shoulder. He asked Spock if he was taking the bus back to the academy's living area, and Spock said yes. McCoy commented that he is as well, though he gets off just before then in an apartment complex. The two arrive just in time to catch the bus back to where they are staying, though they are a few of the only ones on the bus. When McCoy sits down, Spock across from him, Joanna is fast asleep already. McCoy adjusts his hold on her and yawns himself. Moments later, he is asleep as well.

About a half an hour later, McCoy is awoken by Spock, who was sitting beside him, shaking him awake with one hand. The first instinct is to ask where he is, and Spock comments that he is on the bus, and they are nearly at McCoy's stop. McCoy blinks himself awake and looks around at the bus' bright interior. He thanks Spock and looks out the window. Indeed, they are very close to his stop. He reaches up and pulls the cord, telling the bus that he wants to get off at the next stop and then wipes his face with his hand. "Thanks, Spock." He says with a slight yawn. He looks down at Joanna, who is still asleep, and thinks it best not to wake her right now. McCoy took Joanna's bag off of her back and opened it, taking the camera out. He turned it on and pressed a few buttons before a small chip came out of the side. He handed it to Spock. "Here, it's a copy of all of the pictures from today. I thought it might help your research." Spock accepted it with a nod and placed it in his pocket.

When the bus pulls to a stop, McCoy stood up with the help of the bar beside him, and then turns to Spock. "Hey, uh, Thank you. For today. Just... well, everything today." Spock simply looks up at him and replies "It was no trouble." McCoy smirked at that. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself. “So... I'll uh, see you around, then.” Spock nodded and McCoy hesitantly exited the bus, watching as the bus ride away.

Opening the door to the apartment, McCoy quickly walks in, as it had started raining as they were walking, and takes off both his and Joanna's shoes and places her bag on the sofa. He carries her to her room, helps her change into her pajamas, and puts her to bed. Today had been great. Joanna had been great. Spock had been great. McCoy, he... He really liked Spock. Not in the way one friend liked another, either. Was that selfish of him? After all, they had only really talked with one another today. But when he thought about him...

McCoy pulled Joanna's camera out of her bag and scrolled through the pictures, noticing a pattern. Most of the pictures were of him and Spock, next to each other. In the teacup, at the bottle game, eating, and on the train. In all of them, McCoy is smiling. He looks to Spock, and Spock is smiling too, with his eyes. He let out a quiet sigh. He was never going to have a chance with Spock as perfect as the one he had today.

A sudden knock on the door startled McCoy from his thoughts. Would could it be at this hour? McCoy opened the door to see Spock standing there, drenched from the rain. "Spock!" McCoy exclaimed, ushering the man inside. "It's pouring out there, why don’t you have an umbrella?" McCoy shut the door behind him and grabbed a towel from the closet. "Seriously, what are you doing here? Weren't you going back to your apartment at the Academy?"

Spock accepted the towel and wiped the water from his slick hair. "Indeed, I had planned to return to my apartment." He stated, now drying off his arms and shoulders. "However a situation came up that required my presence here."

McCoy was confused. "What? What situation?" Spock opened his bag and pulled out a small brown teddy bear. McCoy looked to Joanna's bag that was on the couch beside them and saw only the one teddy bear was present. "Oh... thank you." McCoy said, taking the bear and placing it beside the other. "Joanna would have been sad if she had lost either of these guys," McCoy admitted. "But you could have given them to me later. You didn’t have to come out in the pouring rain, you know."

Spock stopped drying himself off and handed the towel to McCoy, touching his hand. Spock met McCoy's eyes. "Leonard," Spock stated, serious. "Are you aware the Vulcans are touch telepaths?"

McCoy blinked. "No, I wasn't." He replied, confused as to where this was going.

"I see. I noticed that, whenever we touched today, you were harboring romantic feelings towards myself, that grew more and more prominent as the day passed." Spock looked down at their hands that were still touching. "I can sense that they are currently at their strongest now."

McCoy looked down at their hands and his face reddened. "So,” he hesitated, “what are you saying?"

"I wanted to tell you that I reciprocate those very feelings."

"W-what?"

Spock took the towel from McCoy and intertwined the fingers of their left hands. "I wish to attempt a relationship with you."

McCoy couldn't speak. He really liked the guy, and Joanna liked him as well, and he felt as though he could trust him, so what was holding him back? Nothing.

"Uh, I... I mean, I’m definitely interested but, how about we go on a few more dates first? get to know one another better."

“Very well. Would you be interested in meeting me for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yes-well, I mean, I have Joanna with me-”

“Joanna is welcome of course. I have found myself... fond, of both of you.”

McCoy grinned at that. “That’s good, because we’re a package deal.”

“I would not have it another way, Leonard.” Spock raised up the man’s hand, and in a motion he’d seen a few times before, he placed his lips to the back of the man’s palm. “Until tomorrow, then.”

McCoy stammered at the gesture, face flushed both at how cheesy it was and how much he utterly loved it.

“Until tomorrow, Spock.”

#spones #spock #leonard mccoy #fic #?#spock/mccoy #wow this is OLD #dont leave your child with a stranger #even if hes a hot vulcan coworker of your who saved her life earlier in the day #anyways #this is old #im gonna #go #ty for reading #feel free to ask questions #personal

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onceuponaprincessworld · 4 years

Text

Fairytale of New York

Merry Christmas @artistic-writer, it’s me your secret santa! I had a blast talking to you and getting to know you better. I tried to include everything you wanted to your gift both to the fic and the pic set, the title is taken from your favourite christmas song. So, this is my first time writing angst, I hope that you will like it. Thank you to @hookedonapirate for being my beta and for all her help with this fic. Lastly, I would like to thank @cssecretsanta2k19 for organizing the event.

summary: This day could not have gone worse for Killian Jones. Is one thing to have been hit by a car, it's another thing to actually fight for his life in a hospital bed a few days before Christmas,and before he could actually propose to his girlfriend, well that is a bad day indeed.

Also on Ao3 and FF.

/////

Killian Jones is a 32 year old firefighter, who is crazy in love with his girlfriend. He will always remember the day he first saw her. He was just moving into his new house, in a new city, the moving truck was parked outside of his apartment building, when a blonde goddess walked out said building. He was stunned for a moment and then he remembered himself and had the good sense to introduce himself.

Turns out it was the most important introduction of his life, because 5 months later she became his girlfriend, a title she’s held for the last 3 years. He thinks it's high time for that title to change.

He decided on a place - the park where they shared their first kiss, a kiss Emma declared a one time thing before walking away ( But he knew better). He decided what to wear - his favourite pair of black pants, a blue shirt that Emma bought him for his birthday and his signature leather jacket. Finally, he decided on a ring - a silver one with a green stone in the middle that matches her eyes.

He is now walking outside of the jewelry shop feeling happy and excited, with the ring secured in his pocket. On the way to his car, he suddenly hears the sound of tires screeching the pavement. Then everything goes black.

-------

Emma is just stepping out of the shower when her phones rings. Seeing Killian's name appear on the screen, a huge smile breaks out over her face as she picks it up.

"Hey babe, have you left the grocery store yet? Did you remember the cinnamon?" she asks playfully.

"Is this Emma Swan?" a voice she has never heard before in her life answers, a voice she is certain she will now remember forever.

"Yes, this is she. Who is this?"

"My name is Joanna Miles and I am a nurse at New York Presbyterian Hospital. I am calling because you are listed as Mr. Jones’ emergency contact. He was in an accident and is very seriously injured."

The earth is moving under her feet, she can no longer stand, it feels like her legs have turned into jello.

Killian is hurt. He was in an accident. Her love was injured. Those thoughts are going around her mind on an endless loop and she can't concentrate on anything else Joanna is saying.

Emma asks her which hospital he’s in, forgetting that Joanna had already mentioned it, and in which room to go, before hanging up the phone with shaking hands.She only wants to reach him, o be near him. She takes a deep breath and moves to the door only to realise she is still wearing a towel.

She runs into their room, puts on a pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt and her jacket. She ties her wet hair in a bun on the top of her head and races out the door.

She drives to the hospital while staying just above the speed limit. When she arrives, she parks outside the hospital and runs to the front desk.

She’s directed to the waiting room on the third room and then waits. At some point she remembers to call Killian’s brother, Liam, and then her brother to let them know what happened. She isn't sure they understand everything she says, tears are constantly running from her eyes.

David is the first one there; he holds her and tells her that Killian will be fine. Liam arrives next with his wife, Elsa. He is livid, pacing the waiting room and asking the same questions, questions Emma doesn't have the answers to.

She is sitting there and waiting, waiting to hear if he will be okay. She is waiting to see him and hug him, she wants to make sure he is still there, that he didn't leave her. Just the thought of it has her sobbing again, David has his arm around her; her tears are soaking his shirt.

After several hours spent in the waiting room, a doctor finally appears and asks for her. She immediately stands up. What the doctors says, though, makes her want to sit back down.

Killian had a severe head injury; the doctor telling her in details about his conditions usings many medical terms, which she is certain are important, but her mind can't grasp them. What she does understand, though, is that Killian is in a coma and the doctor doesn’t know when he will wake up.

But he has to wake up, she thinks to herself; though she might be saying it out loud, she might even be yelling it, she just isn't sure anymore.

The next couple of days pass slowly creating a new routine. Emma and Liam are on Killian's side at all hours, they only leave to go home for a shower and some hours of restless sleep. David keeps telling her to go home and stay there, and that he can call her if anything changes, but she can't leave more than a couple of hours; she can't sleep in their bed by herself. She needs to be near him, to see him, to make sure he is there.

She almost snaps at her brother the third time he suggests she not stay another night at the hospital. Can't he understand that where Killian is, that's where she wants to be?

The doctors keep coming in to the room, taking tests and checking all the machines that are connected to his body, while sharing very little. They don't know when he will wake up or if his condition will leave any permanent injury. His left hand is in a cast, but it is healing, he has some bruises on his body and arms, but they will heal with time. She knows it, everything will heal, if only he wakes up. She wants him to wake up to see again those blue eyes of his that made her fall in love.

It is now Christmas Eve and they had planned to go for a walk at the park near their house today. It was their place, where they shared their first kiss, it was the moment after that kiss that Emma knew she could risk getting her heart broken again, even if she ran away from him in that moment, she knew she could trust him.

Killian had mentioned that it would be nice to see the park decorated with Christmas lights, she was always a sucker for everything that had to do with Christmas. She didn’t need any convincing to agree to his plan. Unfortunately, their walk will have to wait, they would go once Killian was out of the hospital.

Instead she is spending Christmas Eve in a hospital at the bedside of her boyfriend. Their family will be here again later; they don't leave her alone for long. Just being the two of them for a moment, she feels that it is her time to ask for a Christmas miracle.

Emma holds Killian's hand while sitting beside him on the bed, she brings the back of his hand to her lips to press a gentle kiss it.

"Killian, I don't know if you can hear me, the doctors say that you might, so if you do, I ask you to wake up, to come back to me." Tears are falling from her eyes, she can't hold them back anymore. "I am begging you to fight, to open your eyes and make me the happiest person on earth. Please, my love, wake up." She is openly crying now but she doesn't care, she only cares for him to wake up. She is still holding his hand in hers and praying to everything and everyone to help him.

She stays like that for hours, always at his side, holding his hand. David comes in with his wife, Mary Margaret, his wife a little later, and they sit with her, telling her all about little Leo and how excited he is about Santa coming. Emma tries to smile, to show her love for her nephew, but she knows that her smile is not bright.

Liam and Elsa soon follow, but with Elsa being 7 months pregnant she can't stay for long. When the visiting hours end, everyone gets ready to leave. David pulls Emma aside and asks her to come to their home. Emma hugs him and wishes him Merry Christmas.

Emma is again alone in the room, talking to Killian about how everyone was just here how they can't wait for him to join the celebration, and how nobody makes gingerbread cookies like him when she suddenly feels his hand twist. For a moment she thinks that she imagined it; she is staring at his hand expecting to see it move again before she looks up and sees his eyes open and looking at her.

Emma is speechless; she is frozen as she looks back at him. After a moment she is standing up and calling out his name in just a whisper. She then presses the call button for the nurse to come in.

What happens after that is a rollercoaster of emotions. The nurse comes in, takes a look at the bed and then at the machines beside him and calls the doctor in. Emma is rushed outside of the room reluctantly, where she starts pacing.

Killian is awake, she saw him. He will be okay. That's what she keeps repeating to herself to help her stay focused and calm.

After what seems like hours, the doctor comes out and informs her that Killian is awake and well, that his body needed the extra time to heal from the accident, he will be very sleepy the next couple of days, but everything looks promising. Emma is thrilled, she cant contain her smile anymore, and calls everyone to let them know; she is certain they will be there soon.

When she’s allowed back in the room, she practically runs to his side;, His eyes are closed but the moment she touches his hand, they open and he gives her a small smile,

"Swan, did you miss me?" he asks.

She all but throws herself at him, being careful of his injuries and kisses him. There are tears coming from her eyes, but they are happy tears. "Only a little, Jones," she answers and kisses him again.

Christmas day is finally here; it's not the Christmas that they had planned, but she’ll take it. Killian is doing better and that's all she could ask for.

"Hey, love, have you seen my phone?"

"I am not sure, let me check the box with your things the nurse gave me when I arrived." She goes to the closet and opens a drawer. Sure enough, there is Killian’s jacket and she is searching the pockets when she something small, she pulls it out and sees a velvet ring box.

"Did you find it love? I wanted to text Liam," Killlian asks from the bed.

Stunned as Emma is, she’s able to turn around, still holding the ring box. Killian looks at her and starts scratching behind his ear, his nervous tell.

"Uhhh, um..” he stutters. ”Guess you didn't find my phone then?"

Emma gives him an annoying look and that is all it takes for him to decide that it doesn't matter that they aren't in the perfect place, or that he’s not wearing the perfect outfit; all that it matters is that he has found the perfect woman.

"Emma, come a bit closer, love." When she is within touching distance, he takes the box from her hand, and holds out his hand for her to take. When she does, he takes a deep breath and looks into her eyes.

"I had this all planned, we would go to the park, see all the Christmas lights, drink hot chocolates with whipped cream and cinnamon and then I would ask you. But seeing as my plan got sidetracked, I can't go another moment without asking. Emma Swan, you are the light in my life, the perfect woman for me. You stood by my side at my worse and brought me back. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, yes a million times yes!" she answers while pressing her lips on his and seals her answer with a kiss.

They only separate for a moment so Killian can place the ring on her finger and they are soon kissing again.

#cssecretsanta2k19 #csss2019 #cs ff #cs fic #my fic #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #cs fanfics #captainswan #cs fanart #artistic-writer #csff

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cyberdva · 5 years

Text

Drummer Boy Part 5 Roger Taylor X Reader

(Originally From My Wattpad Book @panicathetrash15 )

Five days straight!! I’ll try to upload as much as I can.

Paring: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor X Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Mentions Of Smut

Words: 1.1k

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

——— Y/N POV ———

"Do we even have a choice?"

"No." Why do they have to ruin everything? Deaky fishes at the sight of Tam. Does he like her? Why does everyone fall do the drummers? I just to have one successful relationship, just one. I've had my fair share of girlfriends and boyfriends, I stopped dating last year to focus on my music. Now after this fiasco, I've been spiraling down the same hole.

At this point leaving wasn't an option. I didn't want to sit with dick-ass Roger, stuck up Tammy, and innocent Roger. It's like Roger is rubbing off onto Tammy gradually each day. It's like a sitcom, or a crappy fan fiction. I just want to get up and leave. Everyone ordered and I just asked for water. I can barley speak, I'm just sitting in silence. The peace and quiet was nice, maybe I shouldn't have gone out today.

Deaky started a conversation with Tammy and Roger. He kept glancing to me, his eyes glistened when he looked at Tam. Is this a set up? A cruel joke to break my heart? Did Roger and Tammy get together just to mess with our emotions, just to make fun of me? Deaky is so obviously in love with Tammy, Am I her replacement? Tammy 2.0? Am I just a ditz to get close to her? John doesn't seem like the type of person to do that, but do I really know him? It's been two bloody days, of course I don't really know the man. He just seems to nice, but he likes Tammy just like every other boy I've liked to some extent. I zoned out again for the 90th time this week. I've never been this lost in my thoughts until now. It is utterly ridiculous.

"So, how is band practice going, Y/N?" Roger asked out of curiosity. I glanced up at him, he tried to encourage me to talk to him, I looked back down and grabbed a book of a shelf next to us, it was called, "The Stepford Wives," I picked it up. The hour ensued and I got deeper into the book.

The Welcome Wagon lady, sixty if she was a day but working at youth and vivacity (ginger hair, red lips, a sunshine-yellow dress), twinkled her eyes and teeth at Joanna and said, "You're really going to like it here! It's a nice town with nice people! You couldn't have made a better choice!" Her brown leather shoulderbag was enormous, old and scuffed; from it she dealt Joanna packets of powdered breakfast drink and soup mix, a toy-size box of non-polluting detergent, a booklet of discount slips good at twenty-two local shops, two cakes of soap, a folder of deodorant pads --

"Enough, enough," Joanna said, standing in the doorway with both hands full. "Hold. Halt. Thank you."

The Welcome Wagon lady put a vial of cologne on top of the other things, and then searched in her bag -- "No, really," Joanna said -- and brought out pink-framed eyeglasses and a small embroidered notebook. "I do the 'Notes on Newcomers,'" she said, smiling and putting on the glasses. "For the Chronicle." She dug at the bag's bottom and came up with a pen, clicking its top with a red-nailed thumb.

"Y/N we're going to leave now, you haven't said much. Are you ok?" Tammy asked.

"I'm fine." slipped the book into my bag, I had never stolen before, but one book won't hurt anybody. We all went out and Deaky offered me a ride, I said it wasn't that long of a walk, so I started to head home before it got dark.

——— Roger's POV ———

I was in utter shock when I saw Y/N was walking home, is she mental? It's almost dark out and she could get hurt, but we hate each other apparently. She's still holding onto the fight we had the other day, if she didn't have a stick so far up her ass, maybe we could date. She's probably a good shag in all honesty. I like the way her eyes gaze out the window, or how passionate she is when preforming, but of course her personality could be different. Don't get me started on the way she acted tonight. Well faze one of are plan seems to be working. She seems to be jealous of Tammy and I, and she is getting her end of the bargain too. Deaky is slowly falling head over heels for her.

She seems to be ignoring all of us, well darling two can play at that game. Tammy and I may just have to step or game up, I'm not exactly sure how though.

Deaky had gone in his car alone, but Tammy and I were in my new car, an Alfa Romeo, we hopped in and I told her about my idea to step up the "relationship."

"You know what Roger, that's not a bad idea, do you want to sleepover tonight? Maybe have a party tomorrow?"

"That's perfect!" We looked each other in the eyes, her eyes glistened in the moonlight, she look so beauti- No, I'm not falling for her. We have a plan in motion even if she is hot I've got a goal set. This time I can't get my reputation in the way, but one night won't change anything. I pull the car over and glance to the girl in my passengers seat, she looks at me with lust. One night won't change anything, will it?

——— Y/N POV ———

The sun was completely set, I was jogging home. The only thing that was guiding me was the pale moonlight. it took me awhile, but I made it back home. I took the elevator up to my tiny flat. No one was home, what a relief. I decided to continue the book I had been reading from earlier. I pulled it out of my grey saddle bag, opening to the page I was on,

Joanna told her where she and Walter had moved from; what Walter did and with which firm; Pete's and Kim's names and ages; what she had done before they were born; and which colleges she and Walter had gone to. She shifted impatiently as she spoke, standing there at the front door with both hands full and Pete and Kim out of earshot.

"Do you have any hobbies or special interests?"

She was about to say a time-saving no, but hesitated: a full answer, printed in the local paper, might serve as a signpost to women like herself, potential friends. The women she had met in the past few days, the ones in the nearby houses, were pleasant and helpful enough, but they seemed completely absorbed in their household duties. Maybe when she got to know them better she would find they had farther-reaching thoughts and concerns, yet it might be wise to put up that signpost. So, "Yes, several," she said. "I play tennis whenever I get the chance, and I'm a semi-professional photographer -- "

My reading was cut short by the door opening, it was Roger and Tammy, their clothes and hair messy and in ruffles, he they go again....

Tag List:

@onceuponadetectivedemigod @cosmiclunas

#roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #rogerina #roger taylor x you #freddie mercury #freddie mercury x reader #brian may #brian may x reader #john deacon x reader #john deacon #deaky x reader #disco deaky #deaky #queen x reader #queen #queen band #queen fic

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fourteenacross · 7 years

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Alex/John, Helpless

This is the genderswap #fem4ham story I’ve low-key been thinking about for a year and a half, mostly because I am D Y I N G for fic with my girlfriend Morgan as AHam. (If you are unfamiliar with #fem4ham, GO NOW you’ll be enriched.)

It’s also a soulmate AU, which is a thing I’m not always into, but I am weirdly fascinated by. Up until five or six years ago, soulmate AUs made me really uncomfortable on a “free will” kind of level, but I read a couple really good ones and my feelings/preferences changed, as they are wont to do. I still think that they can be used as a shortcut for sloppy storytelling, but that’s true of any trope, really, and I do find the mechanics of them fascinating in a world-building sort of way, but probably not enough to ever write one myself.

So, with that all being said, let’s jump into this fake fic.

eta: holy hell, this is long. This is basically real fic towards the end. Maybe I’ll write this one–I’m halfway there already.

Jo Laurens is a professional do-gooder. She’s spent the past few years drifting and living on her trust fund and trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life. She graduated college a handful of years back and in the time since, she’s lived in a bunch of different cities working for non-profits on a pathetically low salary to help causes that are dear to her. She doesn’t have the temperament to rise to positions of power in most of these places–she’s got a love/hate relationship with authority, her need to please warring with her discomfort at being told what to do. She doesn’t have a ton of skills–she’s brilliant and a fantastic writer and a great graphic designer and artist, but so are a million other people and she’s largely self-taught. She doesn’t need to find a job because she doesn’t spend enough to even put a significant dent in her trust fund, but she gets bored easily and when she gets bored, she occasionally does things like court arguments with drunken assholes and then punch them.

She’s been in New York for the past while because it’s big and easy to get lost in. Something’s always happening, and her sort-of-friend Gilly, daughter of a French diplomat and one of the only one of her mother’s friends’ kids she’s ever gotten on with, lives in town with her boyfriend. Gilly has a zillion friends and is always trying to introduce her to people, but Jo’s not interested in a relationship. A relationship will tie her down when she wants to ~*~be free~*~, or so she tells Gilly. In reality, she’s afraid a relationship will make her sit still long enough to confront all the parts of herself she doesn’t like very much and realize that she has no goals, no dreams, no worth, no future.

Jo’s lucky, too–her younger brother found his soulmate a few years ago and she was even from another wealthy family. Martin and Daphne are already planning on having kids, so her mom’s stopped harassing her about settling down, especially because Jo claims that she’s waiting to find her soulmate so it doesn’t make sense to get serious with someone else.

See, in this world, soulmates are a thing that are documented and exist and all that, but finding your soulmate is extremely rare. No one is sure if everyone has a soulmate and some people just never meet theirs or if only a fraction of the population has a soulmate to begin with, but only about one in a hundred people actually meet and discover their soulmate. There might be some people who pass them on the street and never know–you discover who your soulmate is almost entirely by chance. When you first have skin-to-skin contact, their touch leaves behind a stain on your skin and that’s really the only indicator. Once you meet them and talk to them you’ll feel that pull, that knowledge that this is who you’ve been looking for, that well of love and affection, but until you have that skin to skin contact, you’ll never know for sure.

There are people who go around brushing against as many people as possible. There are people who are completely buttoned up all the time, terrified of ruining relationships they already have by finding the person they’re “supposed” to be with. There are people who try to fake those stains with tattoos and dyes, but it’s always obvious–no tattoo ink or dye can be as bright and bold as these soulmate marks.

Jo doesn’t necessarily care about finding her soulmate. It’s an easy lie to tell her mother, an easy way to keep from having to form connections with other people. She’s honestly not even sure she has a soulmate. In her darker moments, she doesn’t know why the universe would burden another person with her. Plus, her brother already found his and the odds of two people from the same family both finding their soulmate is astronomically low. Jo moves all over the place, she’s traveled everywhere, the last eighteen months she’s spent in New York is the longest she’s ever been one place. She’s not going to find this mythical perfect woman and she’s fine with that. In fact, she prefers it that way–why should she fall in love with this woman just because the universe tells her to? What about free will? What about her own desires? What about doing what she pleases? She doesn’t need anyone. And certainly no one needs her baggage dumped on them.

It’s a Monday in early June and Jo is fucking exhausted. It’s hot as balls and New York is gross in the summer and Gilly and Adrian had a party the night before that has her hungover and tired and grouchier than usual. She’s between gigs at the moment, but she told one of Gilly’s friends, a designer named Hera, that she’d drop by mid-morning to do some work for a fashion event she’s putting together. Well, it’s a fashion event, but it’s a fundraiser for a local non-profit supporting immigrants and refugees and it sounds like the kind of bleeding-rich-assholes-dry-for-a-good-cause benefit that Jo likes best, so she was happy to donate her services.

Or, rather, she was happy last night at seven pm, one drink into the night. At ten am on Monday morning, she’s having regrets.

She slinks into a Starbucks in her neighborhood to order the largest iced coffee she can get, and as she goes to move from the line at the register to the clump of people waiting at the bar, she almost barrels into someone. The girl grabs her shoulders to keep from falling to the ground and Jo grabs her waist to do the same thing and she looks up to say something shitty about watching where she’s going, and–

Freezes.

There’s something about this girl that robs her of her voice and her brain function and her breath. She’s short and slight and has dark, choppy, asymmetrical hair and dark eyes and her lips are parted as if she was about to say something and…froze. Just as Jo did.

Jo recovers first. “Uh…sorry,” she manages to say. The girls blinks at her and closes her mouth and Jo realizes that they’re still holding onto each other which is–unlike her. Normally she shies away from contact with…most people, actually, but especially strangers. She lets go of the girl’s waist, of her smooth, warm skin, bared under a messy crop top, and takes a step back. The girl drops her shoulders and clears her throat, just as someone at the bar shouts, “Jo!”

“That’s me,” Jo says. The girl is staring at her with wide eyes. “I need to–” Jo turns to grab her coffee and get moving and the girl finds her voice.

“No, wait!” she shouts, loud enough that Jo startles and so do a few of the people around them. Then a few of the people gasp and Jo looks around at them and then looks back to the girl. People have backed up, leaving a ring of space around them.

“What…?” Jo starts to ask, and then she sees it–the spot on the girl’s waist, the place where she had her hand just moments ago…it’s slowly filling in a deep teal in the shape of her handprint. She looks quickly to her own shoulders and, sure enough, her upper arms are turning the same color, right up to the edges of her tanktop.

Fuck.

Jo’s never thought for even a moment that this would happen to her. She has no plan, no idea of what to do next. So she does what she always does when she’s faced with something she doesn’t know how to process–she runs.

“I…have to go,” she sputters, and takes off out of the Starbucks without her five dollar iced coffee, despite the noises of surprise and confusion from the people around her, despite the way the girl says, “Wait, please, come back!” at her retreating back.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck.

She sprints down the street until she can hardly breathe and calls for a Lyft, then calls Gilly.

“Jo Laurens!” Gilly says with mock surprise. “You must be trapped in a well to actually use your phone to speak with another human.”

“Gill, I just met my soulmate,” Jo blurts out. She’s still breathing hard. She might be on the verge of hyperventilating.

Gilly all but squeals. “Tell me all about her!” she insists. “I imagine she’s beautiful. She must be bullheaded to be matched with you, as well. Send me a picture!”

“I…I don’t have one, she’s not here, I…I ran away.”

A car pulls up to the curb in front of her and Jo pulls the phone away from her ear, Gilly’s shriek of disbelief and string of French expletives far away as she confirms that she’s Joanna Laurens, yes, she’s going to that address in Chelsea, and then slides into the backseat of the car. When she puts the phone back up to her ear, Gilly is still screeching.

“–leave the poor girl, she’s going to be heartbroken and rejected and I know you have your own issues, but that’s just cruel, Joanna!”

“I know, I know, I know,” Jo says, still gasping. “I know, I shouldn’t have–but I couldn’t. I just….”

She trails off, because she doesn’t even know how to articulate what went through her head, what’s always going through her head, what she thinks when she meets a girl’s eyes and they smile at each other and she feels that pang in her chest of wanting someone to hold onto for more than a night.

Also, she still can’t quite breathe right.

“I’ve told you a million times!” Gilly says. “We have discussed this to death, Jo Laurens–you need to deal with your issues if you ever want to be with someone else. And I warned you that you might meet your soulmate and your window for dealing with those issues would be up, but did you listen?”

“Gilly, shut up,” Jo says miserably. She sniffs and she can almost hear Gill’s mouth snap shut on the other end of the phone line.

They both sit in silence as Jo’s Lyft twists and turns its way downtown. Then, softly, Gilly says, “Was she pretty?”

Jo laughs, but it’s a choked, wet sound. “She was fucking gorgeous,” Jo says. “East Asian or maybe mixed?” They’d have that much in common then–she wonders if the girl has the same thoughts that Jo has after growing up with a white mother who was occasionally ill-equipped to educate her half-black children. Not that Jo should be thinking about that because she doesn’t want this, she ran away from this, she’ll probably never see that girl again. She refocuses. “Slight. On the shorter side. Shorter than me, at least. She had amazing eyes. And an amazing mouth. Fuck.”

Jo swallows against the lump in her throat.

“Maybe you’ll meet her again!” Gilly says.

“I don’t want to!” Jo says. She’s not sure if it’s a lie. “That’s the whole point of this dumb soulmate thing–I could pretend I was just waiting for the right person even knowing that person was not likely to ever come! It was supposed to be a way to avoid all of this bullshit!”

“Well,” Gilly says. “It doesn’t look like it worked out that way for you. You should find her.”

Jo’s arrival at Hera’s office ends the conversation, so Jo begs off the call and overtips her Lyft driver and spends a couple minutes outside the building pacing around, trying to get herself together. When she thinks she’s calm enough to look mostly presentable, she heads upstairs.

Jo’s only met Hera a couple of times, but she likes her. She’s small and blonde and fierce and she has this way of talking anyone into doing anything with a smile on her face, even if it’s not in their best interest. She knows everything about everyone and she’s refreshingly straight with her friends. Jo doesn’t know if they’re friends yet, but Hera seems to think of her as a friend by association, at the very least.

Hera waves her in and sends her assistant to get Jo coffee and shows her to the meeting space she’ll be working in, gestures towards all of the different offices and tables with various fashion projects half-finished on them. Jo listens to her talk and calms down further and is basically a human again by the time she’s setting up her laptop and drawing tablet in her temporary workspace.

Hera says, “Let’s chat a little about what I’ve got in mind, but we should wait for my friend from the NPO to get here–she’s gonna want input. She’s got a fucking opinion on everything, believe me.”

“Sure,” Jo says, and she starts showing Hera some stuff she’s designed before and asks questions to get a feel for the event and looks at some of their old marketing stuff and just as she’s about to start fucking around with some style ideas, someone shouts Hera’s name.

“You will not fucking believe the goddamn morning I’ve had, Hera!” the same voice shouts, stomping across the office and somehow, even though she barely heard the girl’s voice, Jo knows. Something in her chest, her stomach, seizes up and she knows. Her throat goes tight and the beautiful girl from Starbucks–her soulmate–stomps into the room and then stops dead when she sees Jo.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it,” Hera says to the girl and then pauses when she sees how the girl and Jo are staring at each other. Then starts when she sees the teal handprint on the girl’s waist. “Alex, did you meet–”

“You!” the girl shouts, pointing at Jo. “You…you…asshole!”

Jo holds up her hands in defense, slides her chair back across the floor until it hits the wall. “Listen–”

“Fuck you!” the girl spits. “I’m not listening to you, you didn’t listen to me! You fucking left me in Starbucks in the middle of a mob of people who all saw what happened! It was humiliating! And I’m fucking hard to humiliate, sweetheart.”

The girl has fire in her eyes and she’s beautiful and Jo’s insides are twisting into knots and she’s normally so good at this! She’s normally so good at getting into people’s faces, at shoving them out of the way, at fighting back with her words and her fists. Her mouth is bone dry, today, and her mind blank of everything except for how beautiful this girl is and the panic that’s slowly seeping into her.

“What the hell is going on?” Hera asks. Fuming, the girl marches over to Jo and yanks her cardigan off of one shoulder, showing the matching teal handprint there.

Hera looks back and forth between them, gaping. Jo was under the impression that Hera isn’t the type to gape, but apparently even she can be taken by surprise.

“Holy fuck,” she says. “What are the goddamn odds of that?”

“We met in Starbucks this morning,” the girl says, arms tightly crossed, and this close, Jo can see the hurt lurking under the firey anger, the way she’s holding herself a little too tightly. She feels even more like shit. “We bumped into each other and it started happening and–she fucking ran away.”

“I panicked.” Jo’s voice is small and hoarse when it comes back from wherever it had retreated to. “I didn’t know what to–I just panicked.”

The girl sniffs, arms still crossed. “Humiliated,” she repeats.

“I’m sorry,” Jo murmurs.

Hera clears her throat. “It seems as if you two need to clear the air before we get started. Imma get some coffee and a doughnut. You’ve got ten minutes.” She starts to leave the room and pauses in the doorway. “Don’t have sex on my table,” she says. Jo feels herself blush.

Hera closes the door behind her and the girl drops into the seat across from Jo. First things first.

“Jo Laurens.”

“Alex Hamilton. Explain. Are you like, super straight or something?”

Jo can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes her. “No,” she says quickly. “The opposite. I’m…really, really gay. But…it’s hard to explain. The whole concept of soulmates–I don’t like it. It feels…weird and awkward and I’m really shit at relationships. I don’t want one. Not now, probably not ever. I’m sorry I freaked out, it was just not at all how I expected my morning to go. Especially not pre-coffee.”

Alex smiles just a little and it’s even more beautiful than her scowl. “Yeah, I get that. The pre-coffee thing, I mean. You still shouldn’t have run, that was really fucking shitty.”

“I know,” Jo admits. “If it makes you feel better, I felt like an asshole on my entire ride over here and my friend verbally kicked my ass about it on the phone the whole way.”

“It does make me feel a little better,” Alex says, that smile widening a little more. Then she frowns and looks at Jo with her head tilted, like she’s studying her. “Are you ace or aro?” she asks.

“No,” Jo says. “I just…can’t do relationships.”

Alex is still staring at her thoughtfully. “You know, not all soulmates are romantic. Maybe we’re supposed to be platonic soulmates. Best friends or partners in crime or something.”

It’s not unheard of, but it is exceedingly rare. And Jo knows–she can feel that pull, that flutter. She wants Alex. Intensely so. But, god, she probably won’t even be in New York another six months. And who knows how long she has left to live before her past and her risky behavior catch up to her. Why should she listen to some weird quirk of the universe that says she’s supposed to be with this person, even if it’s just going to hurt them in the end? If she’s really supposed to fall in love with Alex, wouldn’t it be better to spare her the pain?

“Maybe,” Jo allows quietly.

“So, maybe we should at least be friends?” Alex says. “I mean, especially if we’re both gonna be working with Hera on this thing. Running away from each other all the time will probably get weird.”

“Yeah,” Jo agrees, smiling automatically. Alex smiles back and then they’re grinning at each other like idiots and this is…not a good decision. This is going to hurt Alex. It’s going to hurt her, too, but she’s used to that, at least.

“Best friends and partners in crime, then?” Alex asks, offering her hand.

“Yeah,” Jo repeats. She shakes Alex’s hand and doesn’t want to let go.

Fuck.

So, Jo and Alex exchange numbers and Hera comes back in with coffee and doughnuts and looks suspicious that they haven’t had sex all over the table. But they start working on this event together and it’s eerie how well their ideas coalesce. They’ve known each other for a morning and they already work together like they’ve been partners for years. By the end of their three hour planning meeting, they’re finishing each other’s sentences and laughing at stupid jokes and Jo is fucking smitten.

Gilly texts her at lunch and begs her to come over for dinner to spill, which she reluctantly does. She shows Gilly pictures (because they’re already Facebook friends and Twitter friends) and is unsurprised to learn that Gilly already knows Alex, that they’re met at a couple parties and always meant to hang out more but never got around to it. Gilly doesn’t believe that they’re just going to be platonic friends for even a second, no matter how hard Jo tries to drive that point home.

“You think being best friends with this girl is going to magically protect her from heartbreak if you do something awful?” Gilly says. “You think she won’t be crushed if you disappear if you’re ‘just friends’?”

She does finger quotes and Jo hates her a little.

“It’s easier this way,” Jo says, and Gilly huffs in a very haughty French way and Jo changes the subject.

But she knows Gilly’s right. She and Alex start texting all the time. They start hanging out all the time. They start talking on the phone all the time, which is…well. Jo barely even talks on the phone to her family, to Gilly. She hates the phone. And yet, night after night she finds herself talking to Alex until far past when either of them should be up, sharing their secrets and their pasts. Alex tells her all about her work at the NPO, about law school, about fighting her way up from nothing, about the ugly weight of the model minority expectations, about scraping by on her own. Jo tells Alex about how she’s directionless and vacant, how she doesn’t know how to be a person, how she can’t seem to connect to people the way other people do. She tells Alex a little bit about her family–Martin��s wedding and her mother’s weird expectations and her dead father whom she misses desperately and her little brother and sister who barely know who she is anymore. She even tells Alex a little about Jamie, though she doesn’t go into the aftermath. She doesn’t tell Alex is was her fault.

They go out and do things together, too, and Alex flirts up a storm with her, but she always laughs awkwardly and shrugs her off. Alex bullies Jo into dancing with her after she complains that no one at the clubs wants to dance when they see Jo’s handprint on her hip (and apparently Jo’s suggestion that she wear longer shirts is not the reaction she’s looking for). She hangs off of Jo and Jo allows it and pretends her entire body isn’t on fire the entire time. She sits on Jo’s lap, plays with Jo’s hair, holds Jo’s hand and Jo is too much of a coward to stop her. She’s also too much of a coward to let it go too far–she pulls Alex’s hand away from her thigh when it starts to creep up too high, she pushes Alex away when she tries to kiss Jo, even playfully.

“Partners in crime,” Jo reminds her.

Alex rolls her eyes. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” she says, and then twirls away before Jo can protest.

And, of course, they work together. At first, it’s just on Hera’s event, but their ideas intersect in too many ways. Soon, Jo is taking photos and making illustrations for Alex’s NPO and then Alex’s personal blog. Then they’re writing articles together–just quick things that go up on Medium or Alex’s site, but the number of views is a little humbling. One of the pieces gets so much traction that Jo gets a call from her mother out of the blue.

“Since when are you a political writer?” she asks casually after some very obvious small talk about Martin and Harriet and Michael.

“What do you mean?” Jo asks.

“There’s an essay making the rounds at work,” she says. “You and some girl–Alexandra something?”

Jo makes a mental note to tell Alex that their work has made the rounds in the South Carolina state legislature.

“Hamilton,” Jo says. “Alexandra Hamilton. She’s a friend.”

“You’re all over her Facebook,” her mother says. Fuck. She forgot that Alex’s Facebook is largely public.

“We’re best friends,” Jo says. “Partners in crime,” she adds automatically, and then winces.

“Mmhm,” her mother says and Jo prays that Alex hasn’t posted any pictures where Jo’s mark is visible.

So Jo and Alex become this weird power couple-who-aren’t-a-couple. Lots of people know them because Alex knows fucking everyone and drags Jo everywhere with her. Everyone assumes they’re dating, especially when Jo forgets to cover her shoulders. (Alex is fucking OBSESSED with crop tops and hi-lo shirts and all sorts of shit that flashes the edge of her waist. Jo thinks she does it just to drive her crazy because it does, it drives her out of her mind, she wants to put her hands there again, trace the mark she left behind. She wants to put her mouth there.) Alex doesn’t do anything to disabuse them of that notion and Jo doesn’t give more than a token protest. People invite them to collaborate on things as a couple. They invite them out as a couple. Gilly gives them an open invitation to her house out in Montauk and Alex buys three bikinis and Jo buys a very expensive vibrator. It’s torture.

And also fucking amazing. Because Jo is starting to understand why people are into this soulmate thing. Being around Alex is like being high–it’s better than being high. It’s all of that euphoria and love for the world without any of the side effects. It’s that carefree bliss, like she’s speeding down the highway going 80 with the windows down and nothing but miles of open road ahead of her. She still doesn’t have a future or a plan or much of a desire to keep going forward, but she has Alex and there are a lot of days–more and more as time goes on–where that almost seems like enough, all on its own.

So this goes on for the whole summer–all of June and July and August, through a long Labor Day weekend at the beach with Gilly and Adrian and all their friends, and into September. The end of September is Hera’s event, which means that not only is Jo spending all her downtime with Alex, but they’re working together all day every day as well. More than one evening ends with them both going back to the same apartment and passing out in the same bed and Jo really wishes she didn’t know what it was like to wake up next to Alex Hamilton. Jo is so, so tired from the long hours and the constant pining and her own stupid brain telling her that they need to stay best friends, they can’t do anything else, especially not now that Jo loves her.

Because she does. At some point over the summer, it became very clear to Jo that she’s deeply, unshakably in love with Alex. Love like she’s never felt, love down to her very atoms. Earthshaking love. And she knows that means she should act, she should tell Alex. She knows that Alex is in love with her and wants her all the time. But she can’t. She can’t let herself hurt Alex like that, because she still knows that’s what she’ll end up doing. She’s not sure how–the quiet urge to walk off the pier or step in front of a bus isn’t as strong as it used to be, but it’s still there in the background and, beyond that, Jo knows she’s no good. She knows she only hurts people, the way she hurt her best friend Marty who she knew was in love with her and led on anyway, the way she hurt Frances by pushing her away and claiming their relationship didn’t mean anything to her, the way she hurt Jaime by turning away at the wrong moment, by being more obsessed with her own stupid life, with talking to her stupid girlfriend on the phone, than she was with making sure her baby sister was safe.

Jo hurts people and Jo loves Alex and she can’t bring that all down on Alex’s head.

Hera’s event rolls up and of course, Jo and Alex get invitations without paying the $500-a-plate fee. They even mostly have the night off–Hera tells them to relax and let the admin staff handle things, to eat and watch the show and enjoy themselves. Jo knows they’re both shit at being hands-off and knows they’ll probably be running around all night asking for updates from the staff, but she pretends she’s going as a guest anyway. She puts on a dress that Hera got for her–something beautiful and intricate that Hera made herself–and heels and make-up and jewelry. She calls a car to the event space and stumbles out, annoyed at how second nature this all feels after years of political fundraisers. She’s on her way in the side entrance, away from the press, when she hears Alex call out, “Why, Joanna Laurens, you look ravishing.”

Jo rolls her eyes and turns to snap something to Alex about how Hera deserves all the credit, but she freezes when she turns around.

Because Alex. Shit. Alex looks like royalty.

Sure, Alex would get dressed up to go out dancing every once in a while, but this is…this is a floor-length gown and flawless make-up and heels that are high enough that she’s at least as tall as Jo. Her shoulder-length, choppy hair is pulled back and secured with a beautiful silver clip and Jo’s hands itch to pull it out and run her hands through Alex’s hair.

Jo wants to put her hands a lot of places, actually, from Alex’s bare back to the flash of thigh visible through the slit in her dress, the curve of her neck, her delicate collar bones, the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist where Jo knows her mark is hidden. She’s honestly stupid with love and lust, fumbling for any sort of response.

“Um,” she says.

“Oh, hey, did Hera make your dress, too?” Alex asks as if nothing is wrong, as if Jo’s head isn’t exploding.

“Yeah,” Jo manages to say.

“I’ll never fucking understand the extent of that girl’s talent–your dress is perfect for you and it’s totally different from mine. You can’t even tell they’re made by the same person. Fashion is weird.”

“Uh-huh,” Jo says.

“Do you wanna go inside?” Alex asks when Jo doesn’t say anything else and Jo makes herself rally and not burst into tears and forces a smile and nod and follows Alex into the building.

And Jo sort of gets her wits back about her, but not really. She’s still constantly awed by Alex, who argues vehemently with people at their table about healthcare and makes shitty remarks about their least favorite admin who keeps fucking things up and grabs her hand to pull her around to check on the gift bags when they notice two of the staff losing their minds quietly in the corner.

Hera catches them halfway to the last one and shoos them away.

“You’re not here to work!” she reminds them. “Go dance or something!”

She winks at Jo after she says it, like she knows all about the meltdown Jo is currently having in her mind.

Alex drags her to the dance floor and it’s like a whole different experience than the dancing Alex makes her do when they go out. Yes, obviously, first off because it’s a formal dance at a fancy banquet and not drunken flailing at a club, but also because Alex is soft against her and keeps grinning like they’re in on a secret. It’s the same grin Alex always uses around her, their partners-in-crime grin, the one that she flashes after all of their weird inside jokes and quiet moments together.

More than all of that, though, they’re touching each other. And yes, they touch each other all the time, but not like this. Alex’s hand is right where it was that first morning, right over one of the teal marks on her skin. She’s never touched it since–they’re all over each other all the time, but she’s never more than incidentally brushed that spot. She goes out of her way not to touch it. Similarly, Jo’s hand is on Alex’s waist, right where she touched her that first day, right where she’s been wanting to touch ever since. She knows that’s where it is because she’s memorized it, where it falls on Alex’s body, exactly how the color sprawls out. There’s a layer of thin satin between Jo’s hand and that mark, but she knows her fingers are in exactly the right spaces.

Alex’s thumb rubs against her shoulder, right on the edge of her mark, the straight line where her tanktop started that morning.

“If I knew this was all it took for you to put your hands there,” Alex jokes, but her eyes are serious. Jo tightens her grip and they flutter closed and then open again. “Jo….”

“We need to talk,” Jo blurts out, hysteria tinging her voice. Because fuck this, fuck all of it, fucking hurting Alex, fucking hurting herself, fuck her spite for this system, fuck her refusal to let herself be happy, she’s sure she’ll die if she goes another day without telling Alex about all of these feelings building up inside of her.

“Okay,” Alex murmurs. “I thought we might.”

She steps back, lets go of Jo’s shoulder, and Jo immediately regrets it. The part of her skin covered by the mark feels warm, and not just where Alex was touching her–the whole mark. It’s throbbing pleasantly in time with her heart as she takes Alex’s hand and lets her lead them out of the main room and down a side corridor.

They know all the rooms in the building after weeks of setting up this whole show, so it’s not hard for Alex to find a side door that leads out to the center courtyard. It’s dark–they didn’t rent this part of the building for the night–but it’s never truly dark in the city and there’s more than enough light to see by as they sit down on one of the benches.

“So,” Alex says. “You ready to talk? Cause I’ve been ready since that first morning in Starbucks.”

“Alex,” Jo says, and she’s embarrassed by how her voice wobbles, but Alex closes her mouth and looks chastened, at least.

They’re both quiet for a minute.

“I knew,” Jo finally said. “From the first second I knew. From the first second I wanted this. But I couldn’t–I can’t. I couldn’t. I don’t know. I shouldn’t, but I’m going to.”

“Baby, use your words,” Alex says and Jo almost laughs with how much she wants to smack her shoulder in frustration like she always does when Alex is being shitty.

“I’m a disaster,” Jo says instead. “I always have been. I hurt people. Everyone. Everyone who loves me, I hurt them or worse. And I love you so much that I can’t bear the thought of hurting you, but I also can’t bear the thought of never having you. It’s awful. It’s selfish.”

“Honey,” Alex says softly.

“No, it is, I am,” Jo says. “I don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve to be stuck with me, but I’ve tried for months to ignore it and I can’t. I can’t trick myself into not wanting you and I’m not noble enough to keep you away any longer. I want you. All the time. Constantly. And I can’t be your best friend anymore without also wanting to kiss you and I can’t bear the thought of my life without you and I kind of hate that we slammed into each other that day, but I also can’t imagine trading a second of the past few months for a life without you. So.”

She exhales and looks up. Alex is smiling at her. It’s not the ‘I won!’ smile that Jo was expecting, but the soft, secret, inside joke smile. Jo nearly melts on the spot.

“Ditto, all of that,” Alex says, waving her hand dismissively. “Except all that self-hating bullshit that I’m gonna train you the fuck out of. I knew from the first second. That’s half of why I was so mad at your for leaving that morning–my stomach lurched and I knew, I felt it. I wasn’t in love with you yet, but I was halfway there and it felt like you ran away with half my heart.”

“Not far,” Jo says. “But I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Alex says and squeezes her hand. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t at Hera’s that day. Probably torn apart social media to find you. But you were and I had you and I’ve had you ever since and I would have been your best friend for as long as it took, but I’m really, really fucking glad I can finally kiss you.”

Jo makes a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob and then Alex does. Alex kisses her.

They kiss a lot. A lot. They don’t have sex in the courtyard, much to Jo’s consternation (”I waited fucking months for this, you can wait half an hour to get back to your apartment, jesus christ, Laurens.”) (Hera sees them on the way out and shouts after them, “It’s about time–and if you so much as fold either of those dresses the wrong way, I’m gonna fucking kill you both!”), but they do a lot of kissing and laughing and crying and then end up in a cab back to Jo’s place, because Alex lives in fucking Queens and if Jo has to wait that long, they might end up having sex in the back of the cab.

A few hours later, with Hera’s dresses neatly hung and the both of them pleased and fucked out, Alex hops out of bed and goes over to the desk and pulls a notebook out of one of the drawers. Jo vaguely recognizes it–Alex has dozens of notebooks, one for each of her projects, and at least half of them live at Jo’s place and have for weeks. Alex climbs back into bed and accepts a kiss from Jo and then opens the cover of the notebook.

“Okay,” she says. “Now that we’ve gotten that taken care of, we can move on to some other administrative matters.”

“Administrative matters?” Jo parrots. “About our relationship?” She doesn’t know why she’s surprised.

“Yes,” Alex says. She fishes her bag off the floor and finds her glasses. “I kept a list of questions about our future that I didn’t want to ask you when we were best friends.” She pauses. “I mean, we’re still best friends. Partners in crime. Just now we’re also this, right?” She gestures between the two of them. “Best friends who are in love and are going to get married?”

Married. Jesus. Jo nods mutely.

“Great!” Alex says. “That’s one of the questions.” Jo looks more closely at the notebook as Alex circles the Y on the line that says Marriage? Y/N

“You made a list,” Jo says on a nervous laugh. “Of course you fucking did.”

“Well, I didn’t want to make you anxious with questions about our future when you were still convinced we were just platonic buddies!” Alex says. “But I didn’t want to forget them. So. Marriage, yes. Marriage subquestion–how big? Like, a courthouse thing, an elopement, a real wedding? If we have a real wedding, how many people? Will your family be coming? Just your brothers and sister or your mom too? Extended family? Honeymoon, yes or no? Kids, yes or no and, if yes, how many?”

Jo starts to laugh so hard she can’t stop herself. Alex. Fucking Alex. Jo loves her.

“You’re such a nerd!” she says.

“Yeah, well,” Alex says, but she can pretend to be disgruntled as she wants–Jo can see her smile, hear it in her voice. “I’m your nerd.”

“You are,” Jo says.

“Always have been,” Alex says, and wraps her arms around Jo, kissing the mark on her shoulder.

“I think you have,” Jo agrees quietly, and then they forget about the notebook again until morning.

The end!

#not writing meme #fic by me #sort of #lams #john laurens #alexander hamilton #ish #genderswap #fem4ham #i've never really been super into genderswap before #but i am super into it in this fandom #probably because lin went and put morgan and jasmine in my head as alex and john #which is an attack on me personally

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inevitably-johnlocked · 7 years

Note

You always have such great fic recs! I have a looong cross-country flight coming up and am looking for some multi-chapter fics to wile away the hours in the flying tin can. Preferences in order of priority: *very* in-character (anything OOC kills it for me), slow burn/first time, not AU (ACD is good tho!) Any rating. Have read all the fandom classics so looking for less-known or newish. For reference two of my favorite ever fics are Quiet Man, & Safe Distance. Thank you Steph! You are the best!!

AHHH Nonny!! Sorry I just saw this, so I hope I’m not too late for your cross-country flight! All I saw was “multi-chapter long” and I put it aside to attach to 2 other asks of similar requests. BUT because this is time-sensitive, I’ll give you a few to tide you over! I’m actually working on a TONNE of fic rec lists:

… (essentially I create a new textedit document every time I get a “different” request from others I have) and was going to add this ask to my “long fics” request I received a month or so ago. Okay, so instead, I’ll pull some long fics from my “Fave Fics Ever” List for you that I have so far (I still have 15 more pages of bookmarks to go through, plus all 1000 fics on my FFNet account, so, WHEE. Being meticulous is ridiculous).

It’s hard to choose, so I limited it to my go-to long fics for you that I have ALREADY sorted on my lists you see in that window above there :D I’ve put them in word count order for you :D

TOP 20 FAVE 40K+ w. FICS || APRIL 2017

Goodness Gives Extras by mydwynter (E, 39,629 w. || Fluff & Angst, Case Fic, Oral / Anal, Humour, First Time, Miscommunication, Snark, Christmas) – Christmas time. ‘Tis the season to settle down with a drink, some food and a present or two, and to enjoy the quiet relaxation of the holiday. Instead, there’s a case that drags them all over, missing presents, disappointed kids, angry parents, and a freak snowfall. On top of that John has to deal with Sherlock, who is being even more of a prat than usual. He really shouldn’t have expected anything different. (okay I’m cheating with the word count on this one but it’s so good!! One of my ALL TIME FAVES)

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror (E, 42,031 w. || H/C, Injury, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Mary is Not Nice) – When John’s left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she’s about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm. (FAVE FAVE FAVE)

Guidelines by WithLoweredVoices (M, 43,018 w. || Winglock || Angels, Fantasy, Angst, BAMF! John, War) – The Good Soldier, one of the oldest and strongest of the fallen, is offered a bargain: to live as John Watson and to Guide a fledgling archangel so that he will stay on the path of good. Of course, Sherlock Holmes has different ideas about his destiny. Fantasy AU. Warnings for violence, occasional gore, and a whole load of hurt and angst.

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, 44,025 w. || Post-TRF, Case Fic, UST, Homophobia, Friends to Lovers) – Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants in the course of a case.

Left by lifeonmars (M, 45,153 w. || Magical Realism) – John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.

The Norwood Love Builders by flawedamythyst (T, 47,798 w. || Fake Relationship, Slow Burn, Post TRF Angst) – Sherlock and John go undercover to solve the murder of Joanna Oldacre, but things are complicated by the many feelings John has been repressing in the wake of Sherlock’s faked death and return.

Triage by scullyseviltwin (E, 51,612 w. || Character Injury, Introspection) – Sherlock’s mind goes exceedingly, devastatingly quiet and gray-blank. When he speaks it’s through a thick haze, it’s through molasses, he’s so disconnected from the words that it may as well be the unconscious shooter speaking.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w. || Dollhouse AU, First Time/Kiss, BAMF John, Slow Burn, Falling in Love, Case Fic) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Guilty Secrets by Ellipsical (E, 55,055 w. || Drumsticks, First Time, Love Confession, Self-Sexual-Discovery) – John has a prostate exam and discovers something surprising about himself. Experimentation follows. Sherlock wants to help. They’re in love. You know the drill.

Wars We Fought, Things We’re Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w. || Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case) – Five months after John’s world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

The Progress of Sherlock Holmes by ivyblossom (E, 62,006 w || Sherlock POV, Pining, Angst, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Sherlock Learns About Himself, Happy Ending) – Sherlock struggles with his feelings for John, makes a mistake, and learns just how important he and John are to each other. Non-BBC Mary / John, but it’s a *complicated* relationship.

Perdition’s Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

The Green Blade by verityburns (T, 72,929 w. || Casefic, Bromance) – As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit…

The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary’s betrayal and Sherlock’s deceptions.

A Case of Identity by jkay1980 (T, 91,009 w. || Fake Relationship, Post-TRF, Case Fic) – John and Sherlock have succeeded in rebuilding their friendship after Sherlock’s fake suicide, but an unusual case puts their relationship to the test. They pretend to be engaged and attend a marriage counseling workshop. Under the pretext of the case, Sherlock turns out to be a master of seduction, and John finally learns he might like Sherlock more than he thought. Slowly, John discovers that he loves Sherlock not only in a friendly, brotherly way, but both men have to fight their own demons before they can think of taking their relationship to a new level… [[I love this fic SO MUCH]]

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w. || GenieLock, Torture, H/C, Magical Realism) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more. {{This is a REALLY great story, which tears at your heart consistently}}.

Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w. || Established, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis, Happy-ish Ending) – After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it’s supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate’s charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 152,857 w. || O-John, A-Sherlock || Body Swap, Crossing Universes, DubCon, H/C, Angst, Happy Ending) – Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w. || Hollywood AU, Coming Out, Show Business) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?

#johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #long fics #Anonymous

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trade-baby-blues · 7 years

Text

The Zoo

Pairing: Bones x Reader

Word Count: 1584

Warnings: secondhand embarrassment, some swearing

A/N: This is loosely based on a true story from my own childhood. When I was like...10? Maybe? We went to the zoo in Nebraska and they have this koi pond near the entrance. My 3 year old cousin wasn’t paying attention and just ran straight into it, but it’s chill because I’m a natural sprinter and tugged him out before anything bad could happen. Also I definitely took the nickname J for Jim from someone?? I think it was kaitymccoy123 from the Lost Days series (which I desperately need to catch up on lol)?? Either way, I 100% love that nickname for Jim.

In theory, you really should've expected this. It was Jim after all. Why else would your brother invite you to go to the zoo with him and Bones knowing full well how hopelessly in love with Leonard you were. The only person you could blame was yourself, but that didn't stop you from blaming Jim anyway.

“Pick up your goddamn comm,” you muttered as you called Jim for the third time in a row. After another two rings, he picked up.

“Morning sunshine,” he said. You could hear that smug grin through the phone.

“Don't ‘morning sunshine’ me, J. You're late.”

“Late to what, my dear sister?” He was teasing you. Typical.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to make a scene in front of Bones and his daughter. “You complete and total douche yacht. This was your plan all along wasn't it?”

Jim laughed at your weak insult. “Douche yacht?”

“Yeah like a douche canoe but bigger.” You heard the comm drop as Jim laughed harder. “This isn't funny Jim! What the hell am I supposed to do alone with Bones at the zoo?!”

Jim scrambled to pick up the phone before replying, still laughing, “As if you've been thinking about anything but what you’d do when you got Bones alone.”

“Well it's not like I can just jump his bones in front of his daughter!! What the hell do I even do with a kid!”

“Y/N,” a small voice beside you said, “what does ‘jump his bones’ mean?”

You froze, and you heard Jim cackling louder than ever over the comm. “You're a dead man, J,” you whispered before hanging up the phone. You took a breath to collect yourself before crouching to face Joanna. “Well, Jo, it means...It means I want your daddy to, uh…give me a piggy back ride is all.”

“Hm, okay!.” Joanna smiled and hugged your leg. You relaxed a little, glad something was at least going your way. Now, you just had to figure out how to swear her to secrecy.

You were devising a plan that involved a lot of ice cream, when Joanna bounded back to her father. “Daddy, daddy. Auntie Y/N said she wants a piggyback ride.” Oh God, you thought desperately.

Bones crouched down in front of his daughter, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know, Jo. I think Y/N’s a little old for piggyback rides.”

Joanna shook her head, hair swinging in waves around her. “She said so, Daddy, she said so! She wants to jump your bones.” You were frozen mid-step, hoping to cut Joanna off before she could say anything. A few passersby turned to look at the three of you as Joanna’s voice carried. It felt like all the blood in your body got a one way ticket right to your cheeks. At this point, best case scenario for you was falling into the wolf pit and getting eaten. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Bones, but out of the corner of your eye you could see him smirking.

“Well, Jo-bear, Y/N’s piggyback ride’ll have to wait, ‘cause this back is reserved for my princess today,” Bones said, ruffling Joanna’s hair. She giggled and swatted his hand away before he picked her up, carrying her on his hip. “Oh, and Jo.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said, still working on straightening the bows in her hair. “Let’s not say, ‘jump your bones’ again, okay, sweetheart? Ain’t lady-like,” Bones directed the last part of the sentence to you, with a wink. Yeah, definitely time to throw yourself to the wolves.

With your embarrassment soon forgotten by all but you, the rest of the trip was pretty enjoyable. Once you got down to it, it was surprisingly easy to talk to Joanna. She kept asking you questions about Leonard and life on the Enterprise, the two things you were most passionate about. Right now, she was propped up on your shoulders, braiding your hair as you walked and talking about her own dreams to join Starfleet and become a medic like her dad. Bones couldn’t help but smile at the two of you.

He looked at his watch with a sigh, really not wanting the day to end: “Well, ladies. I think it’s time we hit the road.”

Joanna slumped over your head dramatically. “But daaaaddy, I haven’t finished braiding Y/N’s hair, and we haven’t even been to the reptile house. I wanna see the Filian pythons!”

Bones reached out for Joanna, pulling her off your back and setting her on the ground. He knelt in front of her, straightening out her jacket and smoothing her hair down. “I know, sugar, but the animals have to sleep too. You can finish braiding Y/N’s hair in the car, okay, pumpkin? Don’t you have your spare bows in there?”

“Plus, I think there might be a Filian python in the gift shop with your name on it,” you said, dropping to Joanna’s level and throwing her a wink. She immediately brightened, throwing her arms around your neck and knocking you backwards.

You barely managed to catch your balance before Jo was tugging on your and Leonard’s hands, pulling you towards the gift shop. “Come on, come on! Why are grown up so slow?” She stopped for a moment, staring at the two of you in horror. “Am I gonna be that slow when I grow up?” You and Leonard laughed.

“You can run on ahead,” Leonard replied, “just stay close, and be careful.”

“Thanks, daddy,” Joanna said, hugging Leonard’s leg. “Will you guard this for me Auntie Y/N?” Jo handed you her backpack, not giving you time to answer before skipping off ahead.

“So,” Bones started, still staring straight ahead at his daughter, “‘bout earlier.”

“Hm,” you hummed, eyes still trained on Joanna. You shifted her backpack higher onto your shoulder. Leonard took your hand in his, gently tugging you to a stop. Your breath caught, eyes dropping first to your hands entwined and then looking to his face. The smug bastard had that eyebrow raised again and you were sure you’d melt on the spot.

“You really gonna pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about?” Leonard ran his hand up from yours to your elbow, pulling you closer to him. His other hand brushed your cheek, and then back into your hair, running his fingers over the braid Joanna had put in.

“I dunno. I don’t think my brain’s getting enough oxygen right now. Maybe I need a little mouth-to-mouth to kickstart my memory.”

Bones laughed. “I hope you know more about xenolinguistics than you do about medicine, or our ship’s doomed.”

“Oh, trust me. I’m very skilled with my tongue.” You slipped a hand around the back of Leonard’s neck, pulling him towards you. You could smell his cologne already and the thought of his stubble brushing against your cheeks was making you a little lightheaded. Your lips brushed together, and you were expecting fireworks. There was a scream instead.

You whipped your head to the right, eyes immediately going for Joanna. You heard a splash of water and before your brain processed what happened you were already sprinting to the pond. You pulled the backpack off as you went, dropping it by the side of the pond before tumbling in arms first, not wanting to hit Joanna. You reached blindly, hitting a koi fish before grasping the front of Joanna’s jacket. You quickly stood, hoisting Jo over your head and putting her on the rocks at the edge of the pond. She was soaked but seemed to be in otherwise good condition.

Leonard was there in a heartbeat, fussing over her. He insisted on pulling out the tricorder he’d put in Joanna’s backpack and scanning the both of you twice. When the scans came up clear, he pulled both of you against his chest, kissing the tops of your heads. He hoisted Jo up, cradling her in his arms, trying to calm himself down more than her.

“Uh, Bones,” you said, still lying on your back at the edge of the pond, “I appreciate your concern and all but maybe we could go? I’m kind of freezing here.” A small breeze hit you, making a shiver run through your body as if on cue.

“Jesus, yes, of course. I’m so sorry.” Bones reached his free hand towards you, pulling you up against his chest. He held you there for a second, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you,” he mumbled. Joanna giggled.

“Daddy likes Y/N!” She gasped as a thought struck her. “Does that mean Y/N’s gonna be my mommy too?”

“It’d be an honor to be such a beautiful little girl’s mommy,” you said, reaching out to Jo. She jumped from Leonard’s arms to yours, but you caught her easily. “I think that’s a decision your daddy and I are going to have to make later, though, okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah, okay. I forgot grown ups are slow.” You chuckled again as Joanna snuggled up against your shoulder. She was asleep by the time you reached the car, so you carefully climbed into the backseat, not wanting to wake her. Bones chanced a glance at the two of you before pulling out of the parking lot, only to find you curled around Joanna, the two of you sleeping soundly. The smile didn’t leave his lips the whole ride home.

As always, let me know if you want tagged or if you want not tagged!

Tags!

@jimtkirkisabitch @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @outside-the-government

@martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @daybreak96

@8bit-arc-reactor

#star trek imagine #bones x reader #bones imagine #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy imagine #daddy!bones #the zoo in nebraska remains my favorite zoo to date because they had a shark tunnel #idk if the still do but we used to go to that zoo all the time when I was a kid because I'm originally from iowa and it was like...30 min #across the state line

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tatooedlaura-blog · 7 years

Text

Home

This is the last one, folks ... hope you enjoy it ... I have had the best following ever for it :) ... the readers are wonderful, the comments are fantastic, the tagging warms my heart and the reblogging is phenomenal ... I love you all more than you know ...

I started this insanity in October for FicFest and it was only going to be two or three stories at most ... finished #47 in November for NaNoWriMo and have been holding myself back from posting the whole damn thing at once for nearly two months ... I need a drink ...

I have another series in the works to follow up my Undercover post and I’ll start those in a few days ...

Right now, my editor/cousin Dave is demanding I do my book edits so off I go ...

______________

The series is as follows :

Mama Scully’s Party …. Morning … Underwears … Maps … Nachos … Foul Ball … Promises … Stay … Phone Calls … Flannel Interruption … Awakening… Friendly Compromises … Scrabble … Apart … A Long Week … Lightning … Missing You … Interim … Stuff … Waiting … Going … Hands … Unsteady … Fear … Fast … Slow … Regardless … Into the Dark … Light … Surfboards … Curbs … Showers … Borders … Canyons … Soaked … Ice Cream … Never Happened … Deep South … Almost … Blue-Suede Shoes … Unwelcome … Remarkable … Stars … Doorbells … M&Ms … Knees ... Home

___________

He tried to catch her one more time as she changed the next morning but in his zeal to get around the corner quickly, he stumble-hopped into the wall, crashing gracelessly then slid to the floor. Scully appeared in the hall immediately, fearing he’d finally killed himself but instead found him grinning on the ground, rubbing a goose egg on his forehead, “I should probably stop trying to sneak a peek at you.”

She shook her head, then crouched down beside him, “just can’t wait a few more days, can you?”

Unabashedly ogling her breasts, rounded and smooth under the Lucky Charms t-shirt she stole from him five minutes earlier, “Lucky Charms indeed.”

She stood, leaving him prone, “I’m going to take the bags down while you think about what you’ve done, young man.”

He bit his tongue from firing back with ‘and more about what I haven’t done yet’ because he was a gentleman, after all, and sitting with a smile, he gave her a minute or two before he began scooting down the stairs, dragging his ever-present crutches behind.

She had the car packed within the hour and once done, she came back in, grabbing them the two granola bars and the pudding cup with disposable spoon she’d left on the counter, then beckoned him out to the back porch. They both settled on the steps, eating the bars and sharing the pudding. Eventually holding out the last spoonful to her, “I wonder what your mom is making for dinner?”

“Should we tell her we’re coming back today,” he watched her lick the spoon clean, his fingers bobbing under the pressure of her tongue against plastic, “or just drop on by and surprise her?”

He went full-on male for a moment and never heard a word she said, the processing power needed for what he just witnessed demolishing any rational thought capabilities he had. It was only when he saw her lips curve into a radiant smile to rival the sun rising overhead that he woke back up, “what?”

Her smile grew exponentially, “you are totally my Mulder, aren’t you?”

“Was there every any doubt?”

&&&&&&&&&&&

The drive home was easy; traffic was easy, food was easy, music was easy, his hand in hers was easy, her palm on his thigh was easy …

The mini-make-out session they had in the back of the rest area parking lot was very easy.

It was nearly five when they pulled to a stop in front of Maggie’s house, the pair recognizing Dave’s car as well as Charlie’s. Scully turned the car off but didn’t get out, her fingers around the steering wheel, “are we actually doing this, Mulder? Are we going to go in there and proclaim whatever the hell we are now because honestly, I really don’t know and it makes me nervous to think that Dave and Charlie and Sarah and Joanna and my mother will be the first witnesses to the train wreck that is ‘Mulder’n’Scully: the Early Years’.”

Peeling her fingers from the fake leather, he held her hand a minute, “first, we are well beyond ‘The Early Years’. Everybody who has ever seen us interact and is not your older brother is expecting this. They’ve witnessed the flirting and the near-death hospital bed vigils and the quarantines and the card games and plenty enough Sunday dinners that at this point, Charlie or Dave are going to beat me if something doesn’t happen between us.”

Finally turning towards him, “can we maybe just sit on this a little longer? Possibly … pretend we haven’t exchanged spit and red M&Ms?”

“Is this the freak out I should be expecting or is this just the tip of the iceberg?”

There was no annoyance in his tone, his demeanor still relaxed, still perfectly Mulder in every way and she was grateful for it, “I would just like to get us together in some ordered fashion before we bring in the masses, all right?”

“So … right now … we’re just … two friends who’ve spent six weeks together in two countries surfing, breaking shit and getting drunk?”

One side of her mouth pulled up, her eyes crinkling in amusement and memories, “maybe substitute ‘shit’ for ‘stuff’ given there will be kids present.”

Kissing her knuckles, he knocked them against his chin, “come on, woman, I’m hungry.”

Scully got out, grabbing the bag of souvenirs from the backseat before meeting him beside the bumper, “ready for some chaos?”

“When am I not?”

Starting across the lawn, the front door of Maggie’s house opened, several children tumbling out, racing towards the pair, yelling ‘Aunt Dana’ and ‘Mulder’ as they surrounded them, demanding stories of sharks and aliens and asking about presents. Once Scully had shoo’ed them back inside with promises to answer all questions, Mulder tugged on her arm, “Scully?”

“Yeah?”

“They just answered your question.” When she gave him a confused look, he shrugged and nodded towards the house, amusement playing on his face, “about what we are? We’re ‘Aunt Dana’ and ‘Mulder’ and that appears to be damn good enough for them so it is damn good enough for me.”

“Is it damn good enough for me?”

“Damn right.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Maggie just shook her head when they wandered into the house a minute later, hugging tightly first, then, “leave it to you two not to call. Luckily I made extra food.”

Mulder kissed her on the cheek, “I could have invited a platoon with me, Maggie and there still would have been leftovers but it was your kid’s idea not to call so yell at her while I go sneak something from the oven.”

The rest of the time before dinner and the entire meal showcased Mulder at his finest storytelling abilities. Scully hadn’t really sat and thought about everything they’d been through in the last month and a half and listening to Mulder, she realized tonight would just be the beginning. At one of the few moments Mulder stopped to breathe and everyone calmed enough to hear her, she promised plenty of pictures the following Sunday, complete with more adventures she couldn’t remember at the moment but she was sure Mulder had managed to document on his ever-present camera.

Eventually, they had finished dinner and were in the living room, discussing who was hungry for the waiting dessert of pie and ice cream. About to make a joke about Scully still looking for a piece of pie she might like, instead Mulder watched her cup her hand under her nose to catch the flow of blood streaming down. Grabbing the dishtowel from over Maggie’s shoulder, he held it up, moved it under Scully’s now dripping hand and seamlessly helped her scoot it below her nose. She turned towards the stairs to go clean up, hoping most people hadn’t noticed and shook her head, motioning him back when he tried to follow.

After she’d disappeared, he rotated on his good foot, knowing what he’d find; a roomful of silent people staring after Scully, looks ranging from confused interest by the kids to fear from the adults to downright terror from Maggie. She looked like she was going to faint, going whiter than eggshells and Mulder shifted to guide her to sit in the nearest chair, which Charlie vacated promptly, “she’s fine, Maggie. She’s perfectly fine.”

Looking like she didn’t believe him, “that hasn’t … that hasn’t happened since … she was sick.”

“She’s fine. I swear to you, she’s fine.” He knew there were other words for fine but at that very second, he couldn’t think of any, relegating himself to sounding like a parrot, regurgitating the same word over and over. Taking a deep breath, “the same thing happened at the beginning of vacation and when we got to San Diego, we went to the hospital and they ran tests and gave her an MRI and everything is fine. Honest to God, everything is fine.”

Maggie stood, then stopped, hovering over her chair, trying to decide whether to follow her daughter, “you are telling me everything?”

“I swear to you. It’s happened a few more times but she really is okay. I would not lie about this to you, I swear. She really is fine. All the tests and the scans came back clear. They told her her iron was low. That’s it.” Watching carefully, Mulder put his hands on Maggie’s shoulders, leaning over to look her square in the eye, “if you are feeling the same thing I did for that three days, there is no earthly way I would keep you in the dark about anything, I promise you.”

He could see the relief creep in, taming the panic somewhat until she nodded, “all right. Should I go up?”

“I’ll go. Sit back down and take a deep breath, all right?”

Deciding he’d just defined them as a pair, he waited until Maggie sat down, then hopped to the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the bannister, one on the railing, “Scully!?!”

His yell startled her as she struggled into one of the t-shirts she’d grabbed from the stash she always left behind, and coming to the top of the steps, “what?!”

“I love you!!”

Nearly falling down the stairs, she held onto the railing at the top, looking at him, eyes wide, “what?”

Dave, lovable, pain in the ass cousin Dave, from his place lying on the floor, “He said he loved you! Are you deaf now or something? Answer him back, for God’s sake.”

“Yes, I heard him, Dave, thank you!”

“Welcome!”

Shaking her head, she gave Mulder a tilting, serious look, “why do you say that now?”

“What’d she say?”

“Shut up, Charlie!”

“Kiss my toe, Dana!”

Maggie smacked her son on the knee, “quiet.”

Grinning at his mother, “well, she needs to talk louder, Ma, or else we’re never going to hear anything.”

Mulder, his own smile wide, looked up at his partner, “get down here, Scully.” Giddy to her core in a sudden rush, she smiled at him, then hiked up her shirt and bra, flashing him for a moment before settling the cotton smooth and walking down the steps. Mulder let out a laugh that made the room smile but by now, he’d forgotten about them, only having eyes for her as she stopped two steps above him, lined up perfectly with his mouth, which he stared at for a long moment, “What was that for?”

Leaning in, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, “you’ll never catch me otherwise so I thought I’d help you out a little.”

Eyes shutting, “I would give you every red M&M in the world if I could.”

“I love you, too. You have no idea how much.”

This time, it was Maggie who chimed in, totally out of character and not caring in the slightest, “would you just kiss her already? Some of us have ice cream and pie to serve.”

So, he did.

Again.

And again.

________________

a/n: yes, I know ... The Sex has not happened == not yet anyways ... but I wanted to make something that my 12-year old kid could read and enjoy ... 8^) ... there will probably be a more serious toned follow-up (with The Sex) to this but it’ll be a little while in the making ...

#home insanity home #peanut gallery comments #msr #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #my writing

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speedygal · 7 years

Text

The evolution of a average trekker writer

I thought of making this post because when you think about it. IT’S TRUE. For trekkers learning the robes in writing each character, of course.

Bones ran after KiRK DOWN THE HALL WITH HIS HYPOSPRAY IN HAND GOING PAST SEVERAL WOMEN AND MEN SCREAMING OFF THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS,” GET BACK HERE JIM!” Kirk was terrified.

McCoy ran after Jim down the hall with a padd in one hand, speeding past security officers and some science officers, while shouting off the top of his lungs, “Get back here, you little infant!” Nyota came to the side watching the two men engage in a chase. Jim was avoiding paperwork, again. His vaccines were just last week.

Kirk was walking down the hall without Spock. His first officer had made good pointers. And there was something about those lips. Those thighs. Those wist. Those cheeks. Those hands. And his entire being screamed to be on top of him. Kirk had a fantasy about hooking up with his first officer. They barely knew each other. Just had been thrown into space. But there was a emotional connection to a man who wasn’t was. Despite how Selek had tried to prevent a emotional transference. He failed. He saw all the memories. A emotional, comforted, loving relationship built on trust and respect and dotting over each other and--- Kirk wasn’t worth of it. He just wasn’t. How could he be worth of a Vulcan like that? So loyal and trust worthy.

Jim was walking down the hall without Spock. The corridor was empty. Spock had made a good point. Thee was something about him that Jim liked. Was it being correct? Having his back? Being a nerd? How drop dead handsome he was. Was it those brown eyes? Was it all the memories and emotional transference, the ambassador Spock Prime, had dumped on him? Was he even worthy of someone like Spock? Spock was different. A ocean of violent emotions being controlled at bay. Why was he suppose Spock’s soulmate? He had a record. Spock didn’t. He was thrusted with responsibility, greatness, and . . . How could he be saddled with a loyal crew like that? Let alone a Vulcan? He trusted a Vulcan. Because they were calculative and knew what they were doing.

Spock couldn’t keep himself restrained. Every touch by the captain was arousing--

No improvement there.

Uhura eyed at the two men. He LIKED he captain. SHE KNEW IT!!!!!

Nyota eyed at the captain and first officer. Then to Christine tending to a security officer’s injuries. She looked back toward her ex-boyfriend who appeared to be worrying over his captain. Part of her felt it was supposed to be that way. She didn’t know how to start a conversation wit a nurse. Like, hello? How do you say, “Hi, I have a crush on you” without sounding like a bit creepy? McCoy looked over toward Nyota’s direction then walked right over toward her.

“MOWE, MOWE, MOWE!” Chekov shouted. “I KAN DO IT!”

“And so the cow said, “Moo?” Pavel said. “And the Russian said, “Moo?”

Sulu pulled the leveler down.

“Pasha, I have a plant in botany you might like.” Hikaru said.

Scotty was behind the console.

“Aye aye, captain.” Scotty said.

“Keenser and I are goin’ down to shore leave, Romaine,” Scotty said. “Ye sure ye dinnae want tae come down and enjoy the ladies?” Scotty raised his eyebrow up. “I am on medical shore leave for that head injury in engineerin’.”

“Scotty, I would love to but I am not on shore leave.” Romaine said.

Scotty frowned.

“Ahh,” Scotty said, leaning back. “All right. See ye after shore leave, Romaine.”

Demora was four years old.

No improvement because she is adorable as hell. It was supposed to be Joanna.

Joanna was three years old.

“Daddy!” Joanna grabbed McCoy into a hug.

“Pumpkin!” McCoy reciprocated. “How is my little nurse doin’?”

“Mom doesn’t want me to be a nurse.” Joanna said. She was eleven years old. “I want to be a doctor just like you and help people in space!”

Jocelyn divorced him. And still bitter with him.

“Hey, how is our grumpy bear?” Jocelyn asked.

“Fine.” McCoy said. “And you?”

“Better than I was before,” Jocelyn said. “Did you say yes?” Her eyes widened in hope. “God say yes, your daughter won’t stop talking about Uncle Spock and Uncle Jim. I want her to say daddy Spock and father Jim instead of Uncle.”

Winona, Jim’s mother--

“Miss Miller?” Spock asked.

Winona smiled, giving the ta’al.

“Greetings son in law.” Winona’s cheeks were a hot shade of pink. “I heard you nearly lost him in the amazon.”

“That is a understantement.” Spock said. “He nearly lost me there.”

Pike died. And has a mysterious daughter.

“Can I attend your public wedding?” Pike asked.

“Sure.” Jim said.

“Okay I am bringing my wife and daughters---” Pike said.

“Wait you have daughters?” Jim asked.

“Yeah, do you know any girls I can hook them up with? They haven’t been out dating since they got out of high school. They need some new girls to hang out with.” Pike looked at him. “Do you?”

“Sorry, no.” Jim said.

“Damn. Maybe I should introduce the girls to the Orion cadets I met earlier.” Pike said. “They are so picky.”

That man was not Khan Noonien Singh--

“Ambassador Spock!” The officer said. “You destroyed the botany bay!”

Spock Prime looked in their direction with a hard glare.

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.“ Spock Prime said.

Kirk was leaned against the wall behind the glass door.

Jim was leaned against the glass door with dead skin. The radiation had done its toll on him. His once pretty face was scarred. His chest wrecked in pain. His saphire eyes looked up toward the Vulcan whose hands were on the window. He closed the door then reached his hand out expressing sorrow through their bond. It was funny, Spock should be here. He died defending a alien ship from the Enterprise. He was dying from helping people be saved from his ship that went under the control of a virus.

It was fun.

And humbling.

To have served with Spock and the crew.

His T’hy’lara now had two.

His Bones can take care of him.

He had to.

“James T. Kirk? How did you find me?”

“Jim?” Spock Prime stood there in sheer amazement looking down on the old man sat down on the snow of New Vulcan. “How did you find me?” The sheer emotions clouded down upon the elder as he held a hand out for the human. “I did not think you would come after me.”

Kirk Prime took Spock Prime’s hand with a grin.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, old friend.” Kirk Prime grabbed Spock Prime into a hug. “No Klingons here this time.” Spock Prime’s hands wrapped around the elder man’s backside.

Spock softly whispered, “T’hy’la.”

Kirk Prime would explain, later, how he found his husband.

“Her name is Carol Marcus.”

“Hhis name is David Marcus.” Carol said, gesturing toward the little boy in her arms.

Jim knelt down to the little boy with hazel eyes.

“He has my moms eyes.” Jim said.

Amanda is dead. After falling to her death.

“Mother!” Spock said.

Amanda was showing off the baby pictures of Spock and Sybok to both Jim and McCoy.

“That’s your husband chewing on I-Chaya’s ear.” Amanda said.

“Daww, I never realized he was that cute.” McCoy said.

“I love it.” Jim said.

George was a constant figure over Jim’s shoulder--

“Jim, get a boyfriend.” George said.

“Dad, no!” Jim said.

“I can trust you with my brother’s corvette.” George said. Frank was a terrible father figure. That George knew but the car was his to wrek not Jims. Which was why he hid the damn keys. “Get a boyfriend who knows how to drive.”

“I know how to drive.” Jim said.

“No, you don;t. I tried, and you largely ignored it.” George said.

“You taught me to drive a hover car.” Jim said.

“Honey, he is yours!” George said. “Shore leave is over!”

Sarek chewed out Spock. And never was seen again.

“Your kid a terrible driver too?” George asked.

“He cannot drive a motorcycle. He prefers to walk.” Sarek said. “He prefers to climb the mountains.” No wonder Spock is bold and patient, George thought, here I was trying to iron my kid out from being under my brothers care and he does better than I!

“Hey, lets in a motorcycle game. Sarek.” George said.

“A motorcycle game?” Sarek asked.

“Gang, I meant.” George said, rubbing his forehead. Sometimes the words sounded better in his head.

“That would be a reasonable use of our time.” Sarek said.

“Yeah, WHEN YOU ARE NOT BUSY BEING A AMBASSADOR!” George drives away on his motorcycle leaving the Ambassador to the dust. Winona and Amanda were exchanging stories on the porch over sweet tea with Eleanor McCoy in between them. They were laughing at the startled Vulcan. George was giving the middle finger as he left.

You can rearrange any of these scenes into a full on story.

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