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slytherinnbitch · 3 years

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Day 7: Proposal

Since this marks one week, this is going to be extra long!

"Goodbye love," Draco says as he leaves Grimmauld Place a little late.

Harry was dressing when he left him in the room, he casts a tempus charm just outside the door. It's almost noon, Salazar knew why Harry didn't even bat an eyelid at his late morning.

He apparates to the Maya Magal in London, it's apparantly the best place to get engagement rings and both Pansy and Hermione vouch for it.

A handsomely dressed woman, probably Draco's age, greets him at the door and takes him inside.

"What would you be looking for today, sir?" she asks politely.

"Engagement rings, thank you."

"Do you have any choice or maybe a reference picture?"

"No, just something light and simple would do. He doesn't like heavy jewels or jewels for that matter." Draco says, belatedly realising that he used the masculine pronoun instead of the neutral one, Hermione had told him that Muggles didn't always see eye to eye with same gender relationships like Wizards and Witched did.

But the lady doesn't even hesitate before giving him a smile and leading him towards the middle of the store. She starts showing him a myriad of rings- all of them elegant and classy with intricate designs but nothing that would suit Harry.

After almost four hours of looking at almost each and every ring in the shop, he picks a simple band which a mixture of platinum and gold with tiny diamonds adorning it's edges. He immediately knows that this is it.

The lady smiles at him again, not a single sign in her face saying that she is frustrated or annoyed that Draco took such a long time.

"Would you like to engrave something on the inside?"

"Yes sure." Draco replies, he instantly knows what he wants. In the end, the lady- Lara tells him to come back in two hours for the ring to be ready and he thanks her and gets going.

A tempus charm shows him that he has about three hours to get home before Harry starts to suspect anything and that's plenty of time. He apparates to the cementry in Godric's hollow.

"Hello," he greets James and Lily as he sits down beside their grave on the ground, "So I wanted to ask you for Harry's hand. I know it's an ancient practice and well, you are dead but I want to do this right. I was raised this way and I'm rambling."

He takes a moment conjure some flowers before he starts talking again, "So I want to marry your son. Why should he marry me? I don't know that. Merlin, I don't even know why he loves me. Me, who is an angry arsehole to everyone and who never smiles. Weasley's definition not mine, just so you know. I can tell you why I love him though? Maybe that will be enough to convince you both. Harry, he has always been my guiding star. I don't know how but even in school when we were at each other's throats, he had been someone constant, someone always there. No matter in what way, just there. And afterwards, the war where well you know things happened and I was so bloody naive but he was there as well. He had been my only hope back then, that Harry might be able to save all of his from the doom which was Vol-voldemort. And he did, he even initiated the house unity in Eighth year and then we got seperated because of our careers and look at us now. Both working at the Ministry and even our departments are connected, somewhat. I'm an Unspeakable, you see. You would know that Harry is Head Auror but not about me. I don't know when that star, that hope became my everything. Slowly, but consistently. We grew closer and I can't imagine a day without him anymore. At the end of the day, I need to be around him else I can't fall asleep.

It's been almost twelve years since the war but some scars remain. I'm really hoping that you would look past those and forgive me and accept me as your son's husband-if he says yes that is. Maybe this is all in vain, Harry might just say no and that will be that. But I'm trying not to focus on the negatives right now. Thank you for your sacrifices and thank you so much for giving this world such a kind hearted, selfless person. Thank you for my Harry." He finishes at last, his eyes are slightly tinging but that's alright. No one's here to see him like this anyways.

He talks to them somemore, about everything about him and Harry and how much he loves him and how he would never let Harry feel like he did throughout his childhood and how he plans on proposing Harry on the anniversary of their tenth year together.

Its about 6pm when he leaves the graveyard and goes to pick up the ring.

.........

As soon as Harry hears Draco call out his goodbye, he takes out his notepad from under the socks in the drawer and checks everything he needs to do in order for everything to be perfect tomorrow.

Pick up ring

Ask the parents

Check in with Hermione and Pansy

Order the flowers

He makes goes to the Wizarding Jewelry Place first and asks for the ring.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. The ring is ready and just how you asked it to be. I'll bring it right out," the old man says, who Harry got to know was the owner of the shop from Pansy.

He comes out after several moments and in his hands is a small jewelry box, with intricate golden work over the black satin. The man opens the box and shows Harry the ring, it's perfect with its platinum and gold band and a heavy diamond in the middle of it, he checks the inside and yes, the inscription is just how he had wanted it to be.

He thanks the man and hurries to Wiltshire after making his payment.

He apparates just outside of the Manor gates, after all these years it's fairly easy to enter. The Manor has transformed drastically, and Narcissa and surprisingly, Lucius's warm welcome behaviour had helped immensely.

He had been shocked when he met Lucius as Draco's boyfriend for the first time since the war, it had been after two years of dating Draco and he had been invited over. Gone was the bigoted, slimy bastard he knew, this Lucius was still as much of an arsehole but not the same one. They were not friendly exactly, but he liked to think that he and Lucius got along nowadays. Well it's almost been eight years so he guessed with time anything was possible.

The gates opens to him without any sort of hindrance. Just as he was going to knock on the door, Mipsy opens it and pokes her head out.

"Mipsy is here to greet Harry Potter. Who does Harry Potter like to meet? Master Draco isn't here today."

"Yes, Mipsy I'm aware that Draco isn't here. I'm here to meet Lucius and Narcissa actually." He explains, Mipsy nods her head and vanishes with a small pop, only to return twenty seconds later, and asking Harry to follow her to the parlor.

"Harry, dear. What do we owe this pleasure to?" Narcissa asks as he enters the room.

"Sure you haven't lost your way here? Draco doesn't live here any longer." Lucius says at the same time.

"Yes, Lucius I haven't lost my way and I know Draco doesn't live here any longer, since you know, he lives with me now," he retorts back- Merlin it's weird enough calling Lucius by his name in his head, it's weirder when he says it out loud. "I actually wanted to ask for something."

"See Cissa, I told you he had ulterior motives after all," Lucius says as he looks over Harry suspiciously.

"Oh Lucius, why don't we hear out the young man before you start with all your nonsense." Narcissa says and she waves her hand towards Harry in a way to tell him to continue.

"I want to ask for Draco's hand in marriage." Harry blurts out, the silence that follows is deafening. He looks from Malfoy to the other, both of them seem to be in an intense conversation which is being spoken through their eyes.

It's Lucius who breaks the silence at last, "Why do you want to marry our son? Why should we allow you?"

"Because I love him, I know it can't be as simple as that but that's the gist of it. I love your son with my whole being. I can't imagine a day where I can't see his face or without his insults which have somehow become a constant as well. I tried to find the many reasons for which I should deserve to marry him, I can't find one. But I want to, I want to be deserved enough to marry Draco Malfoy. I want to make him happy for the rest of his life and I want to do this right for once, that's why here I'm asking permission for his hand because even though it doesn't matter nowadays. Draco loves tradition and for him, this is of great significance and I want everything to be right this time." Harry finishes and when he looks over at them, because he had said most of that looking at the carpet, Narcissa's eyes a bit glassy and Lucius who never shows emotion, is actually beaming at him.

"Very well then, Harry. You have both our permission to marry our son and we both would be honoured to welcome you into the Malfoy family. I...I might have been wrong about you afterall." Lucius says and coming from him it's high praise. He is glad both of them and he tells them so and both of them smile fondly at him. They make him stay for tea and afterwards wishes him luck as he floos to Diagon Alley to meet Hermione and Pansy at the new cafe.

"So you got the parents blessings then?" Pansy asks as she takes a sip of her firewhiskey mixed coffee.

"Yup"

"And you have the ring?" Hermione questions as she sets down her wine glass. Seriously is this a cafe or a pub?

"Right here!" He shows them the ring and they coo over it for a minute. "Is this place even a cafe or is that just for the name?"

"It's a cafe and bar, of sorts. They provide a mixture of normal drinks but add alcohol to it. You should try the vodka and peach drink. It's absolutely perfect." Pansy answers as she calls over a waiter.

"No thank you, Pans. I have to go back to my boyfriend who shouldn't even suspect that I have been anywhere but work today. Do you have anything non-alcoholic?" He directs the last question to the waiter who has come.

"Yes, right about everything can be non-alcoholic or purely alcoholic as well. The mixtures are just out speciality."

"Oh then....you know what give me a vodka and peach drink. I deserve it after spending an entire afternoon with two Malfoys." Harry says. The waiter suppresses his amusement and goes to get his order.

Pansy and Hermione snicker at him, "Oh shut it. As if you both wouldn't do the exact same."

They are still chuckling as he discusses the details of the date he had set up for tomorrow. Nowhere public because neither of them liked that, so instead he had picked up a picnic spot for tomorrow night. It would be great fun to propose in the middle of night with only the moons and stars providing them light.

Pansy and Hermione were incharge of setting everything up and they would also be telling Draco that it was a joint anniversary gift to them and they had informed Harry as well. It was the perfect ploy and no one would suspect a thing.

"Alright, the two of you. Enjoy your night, go home safely. I need to get going if I want to make it home before him." Harry says as he gets up and kisses both their cheeks one by one.

"Ron and Blaise will be here shortly so you need not worry about it, darling. We'll be alright on our own till then." Hermione says back and Pansy adds,"Draco never comes home early so you needn't worry about it."

Seriously these two are in so much sync that it terrifies him at times.

He steps out of the cafe and on a impromptu decision apparates to Godric's hollow instead.

...

Draco apparates directly inside the Manor Gates after picking up the ring.

Tabota greets him and tells him that his parents are in the third floor parlor. He makes his way quickly-he doesn't have much time left, he needs to be quick now.

"Hello, love. What a pleasant surprise!" Mother says as he enters.

"Hello Mother," he says and then nods towards his father, "Father,"

"Actually I'm in a bit of a hurry right now. I wanted the Malfoy signet ring." Draco says, getting to the point quickly.

"But I can see you wearing yours, son." Father says.

"Yes I know. I'm- I'm proposing Harry tomorrow." He announces and he is confused by their identical expressions of surprise and then repressed mirth. He didn't except that.

"Is that so?" Father says as he tilts his head, "Very well then, I'll go get it." He leaves the room and Draco is left with his Mother.

"I'm so happy for you, my darling." She says as she comes closer and hugs him.

"Well, I hope he says yes, else..." Draco replies as he hugs her back.

"Oh I'm sure he won't." Father replies as he enters the room. That was surprisingly quick.

"Here you go, son. I'm sure Harry would be quite delighted." He hands Draco the ring and engulfs him in a rare hug as well. Draco can't believe it, his parents approve. Not that he didn't know that, but it's different to know that so explicitly.

"Thank you. I need to get going now. Goodbye." Draco says, his parents murmur their byes and he apparates directly to Grimmauld Place.

Harry's yet to be home, so he decides to hide his ring and take a long bath.

Tomorrow is going to be perfect!

@cupofsquirrelfan hope you like this!

Day 6: Braid || Day 8: Tattoo

Part 2 and Part 3 of Proposal

Requests open || Let me know if you want a part 2 of this

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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

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Pink Camellia

A/N: I love plants and i love learning the meanings of them. I will have to put a disclaimer here, some of these may have multiple meanings depending on where the information is taken from. I went back to the Victorian Era meanings. This is part 1 of 7 of my Love Blossom Series where each member gets to have their own story amongst flowers. I wanted to call this a drabble as i wrote it quickly but i realised 2k is not a drabble but oh well. Hope it's an enjoyable read!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox do NOT repost or reblog. Gif cr

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (non-idol!au, florist!Namjoon, cafe owner!reader)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none it's pure rotten fluff

Word count: 2k

You loved late spring. The cool soft air of spring morphing into the warm glowy summer atmosphere was the perfect time of the year in your opinion. Not only did the milder warmer weather make everything seem so joyful and light-hearted, but the sunny brighter environment caressed your skin as you walked. The cafe was not too far from your house but to get there you had to go through a park. The smell of the freshly bloomed flowers and the sound of children cheerfully playing put a spring in your step as you walked towards your work.

The park through it’s different seasons had its perks. In the summer it was the grounds for family picnics; in spring it was full of couples old and new enjoying their time together. When it got chillier, you could see the odd runner through the brightly coloured leaves and in the winter, the unhindered vastness of the park covered in a blanket of snow. But of course you much more preferred the warmth of late spring, early summer.

You’ve known Namjoon for a while, his flower shop opened just down the road from yours a couple of years back. When you entered his shop for the first time, the array of flowers were arranged in such a beautiful way that it took your breath away. The smells encompassed you, and transported you to a secret garden so that you completely forgot that it was just a shop.

“Hello”

So enraptured you were with your surroundings you completely missed the appearance of a man behind the counter. He stood in front of a now open door that signed ‘Staff only’. So he worked there, you concluded. You smiled at him warmly. “Hello, this shop is lovely. I have never seen such a variety of flowers in one place”

The man’s smile widened. “Thank you for the kind words. I have tried my best to build an understanding of the flowers I am bringing into my shop. I was planning to have one for every occasion, and yet…” he motioned around you “this happened” rubbing the back of his neck you could see the tip of his ears reddening. He was cute when he rambled.

“All the better, they all look lovely displayed in such a way. And the more the merrier” you laughed softly. “So you are the owner” you mused after a couple of seconds of silence.

“Yes, i’m Namjoon...i mean, yes i am the owner” the redness was creeping along his neck now and you could not find it more adorable.

Even if this was just your first meeting you could tell by his warm eyes and soft smile that revealed dimples that he was kind and humble.

“Nice to meet you Namjoon, i’m Y/N” you both shared a smile.

From then on you had been enraptured.

You had not planned to go into his shop every morning before work and pick up flowers to spruce up your cafe. But after one week of doing it, simply out of sheer pleasure of being in between the greens and the smells of the shop, it became habit. But most importantly you found yourself excited in anticipation of conversing with the owner as well. So one week turned into two, three. Until one day Namjoon suggested that instead of you making a trek to his shop, he would deliver flowers to you in the morning before you’d open the cafe. When you argued that it would be too much of a hassle for him he dismissed it, letting you know that he was starting to do deliveries anyways and so it would be no problem for him.

What he failed to mention was that his shop was not open as early as you normally came in to buy flowers. The first day you met was a mistake. A lucky one in his opinion; but a mistake nonetheless. They’d just opened the shop, totally forgoing to put the ‘Closed’ sign on the door. When he saw you in your awed state wandering around the shop, he did not have the heart to tell you they were not going to open until later on that day. You looked almost ethereal, the happy smile on your face giving you a soft glow that the flowers around you only enhanced. You bought a bouquet of sunflowers that day. Loyalty, he noted wondering if that was your favourite flower or if you just bought it on a whim. He made a mental note to himself to ask you next time, wishing there would be a next time.

And there was, there would be next times everyday for weeks. You made it a habit to walk into his shop every morning after that, buy flowers and have a nice chat with the cute owner. Whom, you’d found out was incredibly clumsy. He apologised profusely after dropping a vase full of flowers at your feet, he offered to pay for the dry cleaning of your coat when he tripped out of nowhere and spilled some plant food on you. One day he even managed to get soil into your shoes. You had to give it to him, you had never met anyone so clumsy and destructive in your life. It was impressive. And most importantly, it was cute. The way he reddened from the tips of his ears downwards whilst stumbling over his own words, made your own heart beat as fast as the words that were coming out of his mouth.

When he was not making a mess out of himself of the breakable objects in his shop, you had nice chats about random things. From books- he liked to read you noted, poems- he wrote some, he told you, weather- his favourite season was spring, travels-he seems to have been everywhere; to trivial things such as the food you had that day or the customers that you would get. Little by little you got to know each other. And little by little Namjoon had started to fall in love with you.

Unbeknownst to him, the feelings were reciprocated. Once he had started making deliveries to your cafe every morning, you looked forward to waking up in the morning and starting your day. Being greeted by his warm smile which accentuated his dimples was the highlight of your morning. The first week he had asked you which flowers you wanted delivered.

“I don’t know” you responded thoughtfully. In reality you had no idea about flowers, you loved them, but you did not know anything else apart from what was visible. “Surprise me Flower Boy” you grinned at him.

Once you had given him the go ahead, the types of flowers that he could deliver for you was all Namjoon could think about. All those meanings were swimming around in his head, carnations for love? No, that would be too straight forward. Lilac? Too dark. Sunflowers again, adoration? Maybe too cheesy. He settled in the end for daisies. Simple and innocent.

“Oh they are beautiful” you gushed as soon as you spotted him carrying the bunches into your cafe. Rushing to help him you misstepped and stumbled into him. For someone who was on a daily basis as clumsy as he was, he did a very good job at not falling over with you on top of him. And he congratulated himself for that, he deserved a medal. Your form leaning into him and the warmth of your hand on his bicep was enough to make the blood rush to his cheeks and his heart to pound.

“Oh, i’m really sorry” with a choked voice, he assured you it was no problem.

“I have done enough damage to you in the past few weeks” he grinned. “I’ll take it as a payback” you laughed at that and grabbed some bunches from his arms.

“They are so lovely, thank you” instructing him to put them over near the window, you went behind the counter to start on a drink for him. “Is a latte ok?” you asked over your shoulder. Too lost in his thoughts whilst observing your form he did not answer the first time. Asking again, you glanced briefly at him, noticing the slight dazed look he was offering you.

“Namjoon” you softly called, the intimate tone of your voice finally waking him up from his reverie.

“Ah, yes it is ok” he would not admit that at that moment, seeing you making his drink and the way you softly called his name - it felt like home.

After that moment, he started bringing in Camellias. And only camellias. Pink. The colour of them combined with the neutrals of your shop made everything brighter and lighter. Even in the winter he brought you camellias. At first you did not think much of it. They were lovely and you had an elated reaction to them. So you assumed that he’d thought they were the flowers that you preferred. But when you started noticing certain changes in his behaviour, certain looks, certain smiles. Sometimes he’d space out whilst staring at you doing mundane tasks in your shop. Something was nagging you. Was there a deeper meaning behind the camellias?

You tried asking him, but he gave nothing away. He flustered, knocked over a chair and exited out of your cafe quickly whilst apologising for having to leave so early. And so you let it drop. But the next time he came in, it felt like the air around the two of you had changed. As if there was a secret that was hanging in between the two of you. Something that buzzed around the two of you. Every interaction after that left you breathless.

So you did what any other human being would do when they need answers. You researched on the internet. Pink Camellias. You clicked on the first link, your eyes skimming over the words. Longing for you.

The next day you woke up extra early, determined to make it to Namjoon’s flower shop before he had a chance to come to yours. You had a flower order to request from him. On the way there the smell and sights of late spring put an extra skip in your step. Or maybe it was the thought of the cute Flower Boy you were going to meet? Biting your lip softly you started at the glass door of the flower shop. This time the sign said ‘Closed’ but you knew Namjoon would be in pitter pattering.

Opening the door, you stepped in. “We’re clo- Y/N!” Namjoon emerged through the same door signed ‘Staff Only’. “I’m not late to deliver the flowers, am i?” panicking he glanced at the clock.

You shook your head, it was now or never.

“I thought I would come in early to make a slight change in the delivery” you glanced at him trying to gage his reaction. Confusion painted across his face. Then entering his customer service mode he stepped away from the counter and started looking around.

“Of course, what would you like? We have a new batch of sunflowers in? You ordered those last time so maybe those? Or some flowers that are better in late spring? How about lilacs?” rambling he made his way round the multitude of flower arrangements.

Grabbing his hand to stop him, you sighed. It was now or never.

Stepping closer and closer to him, where you could observe his eyes, you smiled softly. Standing on your tiptoes you reached to place a warm kiss on his cheek.

“I was thinking something more like...roses?”

The silence that followed and his astounded face made you question yourself. Had you misread the situation? Soon though warm arms enveloped you tightly, hugging you to his chest. The rhythm of his heart, the slight pressure of his lips at the top of your crown and the whisper in your hair told you he’d gotten it.

“Love”

Main Masterlist

#namjoon x oc #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #namjoon fic #bts scenarios #fluff #bts #kpop fluff #scenarios #kpop scenarios #bts rm #i wrote this so fast i don't know what happened

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danielleslegacy · 4 years

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For the Soul || Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

MASTERLIST

Request: yes / no

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: Reid Request because you gained a follower with your recent story!!: Can you do one where Reid and the (non-BAU) reader have a flirtationship and he’s trying to hide being a genius/being FBI because she’s more “on track” with their age range and he doesn’t want to freak her out (idk how specific you take your requests lmao)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: it is just fluff that is all, its tooth-rotting, you’ve been warned.

Pairing: fem!Reader insert x Spencer Reid

All writing is my own, so please don’t steal this. Also, I would appreciate any feedback/comments/requests! xx

*GIF IS NOT MINE SO CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER*

“Amazing Coffee for the huge loser in the corner,” I shout out, a grin stretched across my face. The man stood, a magnetic smile on his face, and walked over to the counter.

“Is that any way to talk to a loyal customer, Y/n,” He says, taking the black coffee (with like 6 sugars) and bringing it to his lips. I lean down onto the counter in front of me, resting my chin on my hands.

I roll my eyes in response, “What are you gonna do? Report me to the manager?”

He smirks up at me, knowing good and well that I own the little coffee shop that we’re currently standing inside of. “That and all of the other patrons might take offence,” He gestures to the empty cafe.

A laugh erupts from my chest, “We’re only empty because it’s after hours, you’re the only one that drinks coffee at this time of day, Spence.”

“We get it, you’re successful,” Spencer says, a smile still playing on his lips, “And I’m not the only one that drinks coffee at night thank you.”

“Oh yeah?” I say teasingly, raising an eyebrow in question, “Tell me, who else is drinking coffee right now?”

“Well, statistically speaking,” He begins and it's almost as if he catches himself, and he stumbles for a moment, “With there being seven billion people alive right now, there is bound to be at least one other person drinking coffee.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he says breathily, stifling his laugh, he leans down onto the counter too so that our faces are level.

I rake my bottom lip between my teeth, his eyes watch the action intently, “I’ll have to take your word for it, pretty boy,” I say, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

“I like to think you’re the pretty one,” He says smoothly, “Must be why I keep coming back to this god awful coffee.”

My mouth drops open with a gasp, “How… DARE.. you, Spencer!” I shout, taking the cup of coffee out of his hands, “You’re not allowed to have my amazing coffee anymore, I will ban you.”

He lets out a hearty chuckle that makes my heart squeeze with affection and takes the coffee out of my hands again, “I was joking, it’s my favourite coffee.”

“That’s much better,” I say a grin spreading across my face, “How was work?”

“Long,” He says, taking another sip, “I’m just glad to be home. I missed my bed.”

“And me,” I finish for him, giving him a wink.

He nods his head bashfully, “Yes and you.”

“Where did you go?” I ask rounding the bench and begin packing away the rest of the furniture for the night.

“Florida,” he says, grimacing.

“Oh gross,” I say with a laugh, “What was happening there?”

“Nothing really,” He says quickly, “How’s the shop been? Uneventful without me dropping in at,” He checks his watch, “Seven-thirty?”

“Same old, same old,” I say waving my hand, “Can you throw me the spray and wipe?” And he does, “We had one guy come in on Tuesday morning completely hammered, he could barely stand, I had to ask him to leave.”

“You okay?” Spencer asks, walking over to hand me the tools and I begin to wipe down the tables.

“Yeah, but he was freaking out my employees, kept talking about the FBI and stuff,” I huff, “He must have been drinking at the Bar across from Quantico and walked down the street to try and have breakfast here. But I didn’t like the vibe I was getting from him and neither did the girls that were working so I asked him to leave.”

“What was he saying?” He asks, voice completely serious.

I wave my hand, “Just saying things like the FBI, only consisted of robots and people who wanted the world to burn. You know normal conspiracy theorist stuff.” I laugh. Spencer doesn’t. In fact, I can practically feel his discomfort radiating off him. I finish the table I'm on and turn around to face him, “What’s wrong?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, he left pretty quickly, I wasn’t too worried. I think a couple of my regulars are agents so I wasn’t too worried that he would get violent,” I say, letting him know that it’s not something that was bothering me.

He nods his head and leans against the counter once more letting me finish my cleaning.

After finishing it all up, I throw the spray and wipe into the back room, and walk back out to Spencer. “What’s your plans for the night?”

“I’m about to head home,” Spencer says, finishing his coffee and handing the cup back over to me, “Why?”

“I was planning on a quiet night,” I say honestly, placing the cup into the sink for the morning crew to deal with, “But if you didn't have any plans, did you want to stay here a little longer? My apartment is upstairs.”

When I was looking at a place to start my business, I remember meeting the landlord, who loved me and offered to rent me the place above it for a decreased rate if I accompanied both places, and I was quick to jump on the offer. I knew how convenient it was to be so close to my workplace and it was in a prime part of town. And quite honestly I loved the place before I even stepped into the space. It was a fairly small apartment, pretty much entirely open plan except for the bathroom, and a small space that I had turned into my study. My bedroom, living area and kitchen were all connected, with no walls separating them. And I loved it that way.

“Yeah sure,” He says, following me around and up to my apartment.

“This is where the magic happens,” I say opening the door and gesturing for him to enter, “And by magic I mean the cooking and sleeping kind.”

Spencer lets out a hearty chuckle. He throws his eyes around my apartment, and they land on my coffee table, which is littered with books. “I didn’t know you were a reader.”

I nod my head, “I love it, it lets me relax before I sleep. What about you?”

“You could say that I enjoy it,” He says taking a seat on my sofa and pick’s up the book that was on the top of the stack, C.S Lewis’ “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”. “I’ve read this one before, it is speculated that Lewis was actually experimenting with hallucinogenic drugs when he wrote the book. So it’s not really the innocent story that it seems like originally.”

“Okay, wow, how did you know that?” I ask, impressed with his knowledge of the book.

Spencer adverts his gaze, “I think I read it in a journal once.”

I take off my coat and come to sit down next to him, sitting on it sideways, so that I can face him. “So you’re a smartie,” I say giggling.

He places the book back down and turns to me, “My coworkers like to call me the resident genius,” He says, almost as if he wasn’t sure what he was saying.

“Wow, impressive,” I say smiling up at the man, “What other things do you know?”

“You’re going to need to be more specific,” He says facing me, “I know a lot about a lot of things. That’s kind of my job.”

“What?” I ask, slightly shocked, “What do you do?”

“I’m with the FBI,” Spencer says, voice laced with self-consciousness, “I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Spencer!” I say enthusiastically, “That is so cool! Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I didn’t want to freak you out, it’s a pretty intimidating job, and I didn’t want to lose you,” He says honestly, placing a hand onto the one I have rested on the top of the sofa.

I take his hand in mine, “I am continually surprised and impressed by you mister Spencer Reid.”

“It’s actually doctor,” He smirks, his confidence building.

“Sorry, Doctor Spencer Reid,” I giggle, “so tell me, mister FBI, what’s it like?”

Spencer rolls his eyes, “It’s not as fun as you would think.”

I nod my head, listening to him tell me about his job. It’s almost like a different version of Spencer appears as he talks animatedly about each of his coworkers and what it is that he does. “And my eidetic memory helps me remember all of the things I need for cases.”

“Okay, when you said that they call you a genius you weren’t joking.”

The blush rises in his cheeks and Spencer bites his lip softly. “This isn’t freaking you out?”

“No, Spence,” I say shifting so that I’m closer to him, “Not at all, it’s incredibly attractive.”

His eyes flick down to my lips, and before either of us could make a move, his phone lets out a loud ring. To which Spencer groans and throws his head back, fishing it out of his pocket. “Sorry, it’s work,” he confesses.

“It’s fine, answer,” I say, smiling at him.

“Hello Garcia,” He begins, and I get up and walk away, to give him a little privacy.

“I’m actually with a friend,” He says, his gaze drifting to me, “Is he sure? Okay, I’ll get back to you. Bye.” He hangs up and stands, crossing the room so that he’s in front of me, “What we’re your plans for the night again?”

I look at him sceptically, “I was spending time with you, why?”

“Would you like to come to dinner with my coworkers, well they’re more like my family, because I spend so much time with them,” He starts rambling obviously nervous.

“Yeah, I would love to come, Spence,” I cut him off, “You want to drive or me?”

Tension releases from his shoulders and he beam at me, “I’ll drive.”

Once in the car, Spencer tells me that his whole team is having a group dinner, a kind of team bonding session. He briefed me on each of the members, trying to help as much as he can.

“You know I can take you back home if you’ve changed your mind, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” He says as we pull up in front of the impressive mansion, and turns the car off.

“Spencer Reid,” This draws his attention towards me, his eyes lock with mine, “I’m excited to meet them, no need to be worried.”

He nods his head and we exit the car and walk up to the door. Spencer rings the doorbell and is quickly back at my side. Nerves begin to bubble in my chest, until hours ago I didn’t even know who these people were, and they most definitely didn't know me. What if they don’t like me? Or that I’m not welcome or don't fit in? I don’t think Spencer would stop being friends with me over that, but my growing feelings for the man would complicate the situation. It’s almost as if Spencer can feel my doubts, as his hand reaches down to join with mine, he squeezes it softly.

“Thank you, pretty boy,” I say, throwing him a wink. The door opens to reveal a man, with a cloth tossed over his shoulder.

“Ey, Reid,” The man says, pulling a laughing Spencer in for a hug, and a kiss to each of his cheeks.

“Rossi,” Spencer says, stepping back, “This is Y/n.” He gestures to me.

“Hi,” I say softly, extending my hand out to shake his. But instead, the man wraps me in a hug and I let out a surprised laugh and hug him back.

“Sorry I’m a hugger, I’m David Rossi, but please call me Dave,” He says once he releases me. “Come in, Come in. We were just about to pour the wine.”

We make our way into the large kitchen and I notice the group of people stood around the island. Their laughter and conversations subside as they notice our presence. My eyes flick over the group. Each of them wears a matching expression, surprise, eventually my eyes make it to a familiar face.

“Wait, JJ?” I say, my face breaking out into a grin. The woman makes her way over to us and wraps me in a hug, which I return quickly. Once we release, she hits Spencer’s arm softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew, Y/n?” JJ says accusatory.

“Wait, how do you know each other?”

I let out a giggle, “JJ was my first customer when I opened my shop, and now shes my second most regular customer, I can always guarantee that she will come in and order her black coffee as soon as I open the shop.”

“Hey, I can’t help that the coffee is so good,” JJ says, shrugging.

“So you know JJ and Spencer, but not the rest of the team. So let me introduce,” Rossi says, placing a hand on my arm to guide me over to the rest of the team, JJ and Spence following soon behind. Dave introduces me to each of the members, all of them give me a warm smile and tell me that they’re glad I’m here.

“So how long have you two been dating?” The dark-haired woman, Emily, asks. “Uh,” Spencer stutters, “We’re not dating.”

“No?” Morgan questions, clearly puzzled.

“Nope,” I say, “We’re just friends.”

“Pretty boy come on,” Morgan groans.

“That’s what I call him,” I laugh, to which Morgan hums, asking what I meant without words, “Pretty boy.”

Morgan lets out a laugh, muttering that he likes me already under his breath.

“Wine?” Dave calls out to me.

I shake my head, “No thank you, I’ve got the morning shift.”

“Wait you didn’t tell me that, when do you need to be home?” Spencer quickly interjects, clearly unsure if I should be out, as he knows that I have to be up to open the shop at 4:30 if I’m on the morning shift. I wave my hand letting him know that it’s okay. Looks are thrown between members of the team, all silently swooning of Spencer and I’s obvious feelings for each other.

“Where was your shop again Y/n?” Penelope asks, a smile on her face.

I smile back at the woman, “It’s actually just down the street from where you guys work, next to Taylor’s bookshop.”

“Wait, what was the shop's name again?” Hotch questions.

“Pour l'âme, It’s french,” I laugh, “It means for the soul, but doesn’t the french version sound so much better.”

“Spencer has definitely brought group coffee to the BAU from there at like 9 o’clock at night,” Morgan says, “And there is no way that you’re open that late.”

My eyes flick to Spencer, whose face is red, “You would be right.”

“So that means that you’re making at least seven coffee’s for dear boy wonder here in your after hours,” finishes Penelope.

I nod my head in response.

“Far out Reid, if you don’t make a move I will,” Emily jokes and the group lets out a collective laugh.

The rest of the night goes on without a hitch, the team continues to make jokes at Spencer’s expense, and I'm sure that it's a normal thing for them to do anyway.

The clock ticks over to ten thirty, and Spencer and I say our goodbyes to the team. Each of them gives me a hug, aside from Hotch who had already left.

“Thank you for dinner, Dave, and thank you for having me everyone, it was great to meet you all,” I say, placing my coat over my shoulders, hoping they understand how truly grateful I am to be included.

“You’re more than welcome at my dinner table any night of the week,” Dave says, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

The rest of the team makes comments that suggest they agree. And my heart squeezes, they have successfully made me feel so welcomed and like a part of the family already. We throw goodbyes over our shoulders, and Spencer's hand falls into mine and we walk down to his car. He opens the door for me, but before I get in I wrap my arms around his waist.

“Thank you for taking me, Spence,” I say, burying my head into his chest. Spencer’s arms wrap around me and we just stand together for a moment. My heart races at the intimate moment.

“I’m so glad that you could come,” He mutter’s into the top of my hair, “I don’t think I’m going to be allowed to come without you anymore.”

I let out a laugh and pull away from him and get into the car, and we travel back to my apartment. Spencer parks his car and gets out following me to the back entrance to my apartment. We stand outside of my front door.

“I don’t want to leave you yet,” I confess, a surge of confidence racing through me, “I like being around you. In fact, I think I’m going to surgically attach us together so that I’m always around.”

The two of us laugh. Our eyes lock in the light of the moon, cliche I know, and I can tell that Spencer’s eyes are concentrated on me. His eyes flick down to my lips and I rake my tongue over them.

“I like being around you too,” He whispers, inching closer to me. I can feel his breath on my face at this point, the cinnamon scent that he's always wearing envelops my nose and I feel at home, I feel safe. He leans down slowly and hovers his lips over mine, leaving me time to pull away if it’s not something I want. And oh god do I want it. I step up onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his, bringing my hands up to hod his face. His own go around my waist and pull me closer to him. Our lips move together in perfect harmony and it's almost as if the rest of the world slips away. I swipe my tongue over his lips and he opens his mouth to me. We fight for dominance and eventually he wins, pushing me backwards a little bit and we hit my door with a thud, causing us both to laugh and break apart. I grab the back of my head.

“Ow.”

“I’m so sorry,” He says laughing. He places a hand to the back of my head, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say smiling, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth slightly. “So, when are you finally going to ask me out?” I tease.

He lets out another laugh and steps back from me, oozing confidence, “Hey you're the one that told the team that we’re just friends.”

“We are just friends,” I quip back.

He shakes his head, “Do you want to be just friends?”

I shake my head no.

“Good, me either.”

Taglist

@saucybeeches

#spencer reid #spence #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal #Criminal Minds Reid #Criminal Minds AU #coffee shop au #penelope garcia #derek morgan #jennifer jj jareau #emily prentiss #david rossi #aaron hotch hotchner

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thirsthourdemon · 4 years

Text

What does happiness look like?

Includes: Kuroo

Genre: Angst, a tad of fluff

Warnings: cheating?

A/N: Mwuah Happy? What happy?

Cold and trembling, he was submerged into the freezing water up to his collar bones. Head resting on the dull coloured wall tiles of his bathroom, kuroo stared aimlessly at the edge of his tub. Chapped lips and a bored gaze on his pale face that night. Why cant we just be happy? To be obliviously happy. What did happiness even look like anymore? Was he even worthy of happiness?

These questions constantly seep their way into his head and like the overthinker he was, he’d spend hours remaining in the cold water pondering on when he was every going to see the light again. Bathing for decency. As he stood up from his position, he sneaked a peek at the autumn sky in the small compact window on top of his bathroom. Though his body was telling him to quickly cover himself, he simply took his time wearing clothes, still dazed. The moaning and groaning of his stomach, though not new, did not fell into deaf ears as he had thought to walked over to the local ramen shop to get something to eat. It wasn’t foreign for him to feel that as he had been doing that for a while. Eating just to survive. He pockets his keys and looks over at the jersey he was supposedly proud of. Framed with a picture of his previous volleyball team beside it. The smile he has on his face with the sweat dripping down his brow. Staying alive just for the sake of being alive.

What face will he make when he sees what happiness looks like again? The clicking of the door echoed telling him that he could go already. Once again taking his time, he admired the view of the night all the while not noticing the fumbling bike about to crash at him. In a swift moment he had barely moved aside as the bike had coming crashing into the pile of garbage cans. The loud crash scaring the kittens that have been concealing themselves using the bins and bags. “Im fi-hay-ne” she slurs through her loud announcement of her state while trying to pick herself up from the rubble.

“I wasn’t asking-“ “Well that’s mean! Didn’t your mother teach you to help those who needed it?” She banters while patting herself to rid of the dirt, though that did nothing to the stench that she now had on her. “You dont seem like you need help though...” his voice was in between a low growl and mumble. “Ha?! Look at this boy! Not even helping a lady! Who raised you?” She starts grumbling, picking up her bike and trying to get back on, ultimately failing. The night was so dark that only the light post was illuminating the way, looking at the ill mannered girl, he had finally gotten a good look of her face.

Scrunched up nose with stars for eyes, clearly scratched and a bit of filth layed on her soft cheeks. Her brows furrowed to the center and sweat glistening on her forehead. Cutting through his admiring thoughts” Then let me help you. My apartment is near by” he utters, seemingly regretting this but accepting the situation when she turns to him with a toothy grin and runs close him.

She smelled of garbage and oil, amusing him though she starts rambling about her day.

Wow she actually thinks I care...Hmmm...when will she even stop talking? At least she’s not awkward, I guess? What is she even talking about? “-So there I was right? He was trying to talk me into letting him eat me while I was on my period. Calling me his little ketchup packet-“ “HAHAHAHAHAHA WHAT?!” A hyena like laughter emits from his lips. When was the last time he even laughed like this? His grabbed onto his sides and cackled the night away. The night, the moment he looked at her...

His eyes relaxed and a small smile to his dry lips, that was the face he had when he had finally seen what happiness looked like again.

The face he had made everyday since then.

“Tetsu! Look at the kitten mugs! We should get some! It looks great!” “Y/N, we dont need-“ “LOOK! They even have nekoma themed mugs! And fukurodani ones! These are great! Did you know I actually went to fukurodani?” Her blabber was a tune that was constantly stuck to his head now. Watching her bring the mugs to the counter, he quickly hands his card to the register without her protest...well up until “I could have handled that yknow?” Another one of her famous complaints. Who knew happiness was a small woman in an old jacket and was as aggressive as a chihuahua?

“Fine, then you can buy the tea, kitten?” The raven offered as she feels her cheeks grow warm at the nickname. “Of course Im paying for tea, idiot!” Hurriedly grabbing her shopping bag and walking to the entrance that kuroo had opened for her. Walking side by side while munching on the weird convenience store they had both decided on.

“I like these! We should buy more next time, no?” Gasping at the delicious snack.

“Make yourself at home...” “Will do, sir~” she enters his apartment so casually and places the mugs down. Plopping down on her, self-proclaimed, spot while the rooster haired male had set up his kitchen for some tea she sets up the show they were going to watch. Spotting some packets of convenience store food, the smaller girl stared at them and started arising from her seat.

Kuroo felt small arms wrap around his waist and a cheek to his back. “Tetsu...” “Yes, kitten?” Replying with a teasing voice however regretting it as soon the male realizes what was happening. “I told you not to eat convenience store food anymore!” She scolds. Sigh It was a sight to behold. A 6ft tall man saying sorry to a smaller female, who was not even his lover, scolding him of not taking better care of himself. Though after all has been said and done she brings him to a cuddle on the couch. “Im just scolding you because I lov- ehem I..aughh I mean be-cause... you aren’t taking care of yourself again...you idiot” The last part sounding almost like a whisper. He was safe, content and most of all happy.

Recalling the questions he once had in his head.

Who knew happiness looked like her? An aggressive small girl who was way too confident.

A certain warm light to her eyes. Brow always dripping with sweat. She was fierce and weirdly competitive in things that don’t really matter.

‘Who could eat the most mochi?’ ‘Who could finish their tea first?’ Most of which the former captain would entertain. Happiness looked like her whenever she would run after the birds at the park and giggle at their “Cowardice” to face her.

Happiness sounded like her odd stories and her voice shouting at the store owner to haggle with her. She was happiness. She was his happiness.

He knew in himself that he liked her of course. Through his ups and downs they were together. The convincing him to go to classes. Y/N constantly riding up to his apartment just so she made sure he would actually go. Her constant “Good morning”...the...

“Tetsu, come on. It’s a great day to go to do something after classes!”

“OI! WHAT ARE YOU EATING?! You think rice is cheap? Ha?! Eat the food I made! No more instant noodles!”

“It’s okay. Let it all out. Im here. Your feelings are valid, okay?”

“Hey tetsu, I bought some Grilled Salted Mackerel pike!”

Until it became...

“Kitten! Let’s go to the beach!”

“Hey! Eat your food! It’ll get cold yknow?”

“Chibi-chan! You can’t even catch up!”

“Do you need help with that one? Here you do it like this...”

“Y/N, kenma said we’re meeting up at the cafe near the station. Wanna get ready at 10?”

“Hey shut the fuck up! She can wear whatever she wants. You’re just a pervert if you think you’re allowed to cat call her just for wearing clothes, ass hole”

Coming back to his younger, more passionate self. The happiest and the best version of himself, he thought that through this he was at least worthy and deserving of being loved by her.

However not everything is perfect. There were days where Y/N couldn’t even stop by. She was tired and she needed to rest for herself. Kuroo understand that but lately she was a bit too busy.

Was she busy? He wouldn’t have doubter her if...he hadnt..He saw her walking out of campus with a guy that day. More specifically the school’s counseling president.. She was so nice. Nice to everyone. Even to people like that. She was even nice to him. Him. He wasn’t even anybody. He was nothing and she was everything. He hated to think about it but...Maybe she just did that out of pity. She’s so nice that she would do that. Who was he?

Who was he to be important? He wasn’t a president of anything. He was just himself. Was he even worthy enough that she takes care of him to such an extent? What could he do for her though?

The sudden creak of the door alerts him, his sharp eyes meet Y/N’s frame holding a bouquet of flowers. “Oh hey can you help with these? The guys at the committee bought them for me as thanks but I honestly like gardens more hahaha Still sweet though” Taking off her shoes and handing him the big bouquet of red to pink roses. He could have done much better. She didn’t even like their stupid bouquet.

“There’s a green house tea house thing close to my university. Wanna go then? I mean Im going to be dropping some stuff off at my locker so-“ “Really?! Sure!” An excited squeal came from her lips while she stepped in and occupied the majority of the couch in a deflated or one might say tired pose.

“Please pick from our flower charms!” The host to the tea shop announcing enthusiastically at the duo. Normally the two would have picked different flowers however captivated by certain flowers with bright pink petals that point to the sky. Cyclamens with small papers which read “Fight for your love”.

Just like fortune cookies.

Well what do you know? Passionate love then? What a coincidence due to the situation. To fight for your love.

Being seated at their booth, both had looked around the place. Clumsily piled high with beautiful plants and the sun light almost seemed too perfectly placed. Y/N looked as if she belonged there. With the flora decorating her, one would have considered her a fairy. “You look...N-nice...kitten” stuttering to even find the right things to say.

Under the table...

She had gently inched her small fingertips to touch his calloused ones. Holding at least a portion of her hand. Soft ,comforting and happy. When the tea had arrived Kuroo had only taken a small sip until he rejected the floral drink completely. “You know Chrysanthemums actually means Loyalty and patience? It’s really cool!” With the tea’s edge to her slightly parted lips, the young female had taken a quiet sip.

She enjoys the date with her hand completely clasped in his under the table. Shoulders touching and giggling at whatever kuroo was showing her on his phone. It was literal paradise. Beautiful flora, wonderful food and amazing her. It was perfection in a moment. The sun’s afternoon light striped through her hair and a portion of her cheek. Magic.

It was all until she had started squirming and gripping his hand tighter. “T-tesu...I ughh...I like someone. It’s this guy and...he...I think he might be the one, tetsu! He buys tea with me and holds me like Im home...”

So he was right. He was correct this time. He was so used to being wrong that right now being right felt like a punishment. Tetsuro though that he was the only one who he did those things with. So right and so wrong at the same time.

The little glimmer of happiness in him slightly fading.

He was just there because she pitied him.

He hated it but he didn’t say that, he couldn’t. He had his signature grin on as he knuckles her hair he says something along the lines of “You! You’re going to scare him off! Hahaha! You’re so stubborn too, chibi-chan!”

The laughter was sweet as the tea he had refused to drink. A few moments later the male had left saying that he had to relieve himself though he barely drank anything.

1: 02 PM

3: 27 PM

“Miss, would you like me to sit with-“ “Oh? Oh! No! Sorry! Im actually with someone. Im just waiting for him”

“Oh sorry! I thought you were alone”

6: 12 PM

8: 45 PM

“Umm...miss, we’re actually going to close now”

...

“Hello? Tetsu-“ “This number cannot be reached. Please try again-“

“UGH! I am so kicking his ass when I see him! Ditching me like that!...” Shuffling to gather her things and hurriedly asking for the bill. She leaves the moment she’s cleared and in search of the rooster head male.

Meanwhile the male was in the library ever since. Trying to simply clear his head. Trying to understand what had just happened. Recalling the exact moment that you weren’t his anymore. When a woman in a skimpy outfit had cat called him when he was about to leave. Something about how he looked well hung. Livid, he grabbed her to the side which she obliged in.

This was wrong.

Though why would he care? He was always wrong. The one moment where he was correct he was also wrong. He clenched his fist and forcibly bit his lips.

He was cringing at all of this. Y/N was supposed to be his and yet...She had to choose...and she chose someone who deserved her love.

The disgusting moans of the woman he was making out with at the alley way. Hungry, disgusted and furious. His touches were rough and almost hurting her.

Again, why would he care? Y/N didn’t even like him! He was only taken care of out of pity! He was nothing! All he was...was wrong.

Empty and wrong.

He took it all out on the innocent girl’s cunt. Kuroo called out for her. Her nickname.

Grasping and groaning ‘kitten’. Balls deep in this bitch he picked up from the street when his phone started ringing.

The light of his screen illuminating them.

On the other side of this though...Y/N was walking to his apartment to see if he was there. Also just as livid. Tear stained. Her mascara smudged. No longer looking like a fresh flower. A wilted yellow carnation to her hair while her hands fumbled with her phone. She felt betrayed. She felt useless. It took so much for her to even confess! She had to time everything! To the hand holding and intimate touches.

Even rejecting the council president because of him!

He was a jerk! Why would he even invite her to a date if he was just going to ditch her?

Was she the one in the wrong this time though? Did he even like her? Why would he just invite her?

Did she misunderstand? Were they just friends?...

Finally confessing to him and he just-...mid step. Her head just momentarily looking to the side, to the alleyway. When a familiar figure was illuminated by a screen’s light in his pocket. A familiar figure with a familiar ring tone in a foreign situation. The flower on her hair dropping to her worn out shoes.

It was like a blink. Like a flicker of the light. It was at least just 2 seconds when she saw it.

There he was. Frustrated, grinning, calling out for his ‘kitten’ and balls deep in a girl she has never even seen before.

Taglist: @boosyboo9206 @kuroos-babie @yamaguchi-stan @janellion @cthuroo (thank you for helping me I love you) @my-mass-hysteria @zoppzoop

#hq kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu kuroo x reader #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!!#anime #hq anime #anime series #haikyuu nekoma #haikyuu angst #hq nekoma #hq angst #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu kuroo tetsuro #hq kuroo tetsuro #hq kuroo

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pricemarshfield · 3 years

Text

what do you truly desire?

A Deckerstar human/romcom AU. Chapter 5/10, read on AO3 here (or the full fic here). Will be rated E eventually, so minors DNI.

Five months later, Lucifer's life is fantastic.

It's not a surprise. His life has always been better than the average person's: plenty of money, some of the world's best alcohol, possibly the most active sex life of anyone in the LA area. Maze's brief trend of being gentle after Chloe had rejected him because of her has long-since ended, so she's back to her normal self: quick-witted and vicious and Lucifer's best friend.

She doesn't tell him anymore stories about her roommate, and he doesn't ask her about Chloe. It's basically the same way they did things before, just with the one tweak. Still, it's not as though he doesn't know when she tiptoes around things. Maze happily starts a story about building a model rocket with her other best friend (Lucifer holds a hand to his chest, mostly-mock-offended) but then clams up when Lucifer asks the friend's name or any other details, or Maze corrects him on some minor detail about LA's liquor laws that only someone who spent a lot of time with a cop would know. (Lucifer doesn't remember what that one was. Maze handles the books.)

Lucifer continues to talk up their customers almost every night, waxing poetic about their most expensive whiskeys, whispering in a handsome man's ear about how good Maze looks mixing cocktails, helping them through the potential sexuality crisis that tends to cause. It's certainly not a traditional lifestyle, but anyone he has a conversation with long enough to actually talk about it tend to say how lucky he is.

Which is right, obviously. He's lucky. What more could he want?

Of course, the life of a club owner doesn't start at opening. He needs a new suit, deep blue for an event someone's paying a truly sinful amount of money to host at Lux, and his tailor won't do house calls. Maze had tried, at one point, to wake him up earlier, if only so that he'd cook her breakfast since she burns everything short-of-but-sometimes-including toast. But he spends over a thousand on just the sheets on his bed, let alone how much he spent on the mattress, and he's damn well going to enjoy it.

(It's not--and this is crucial--it's not moping. He doesn't have anything to mope over, definitely not, his life is absolutely wonderful and he doesn't spend any time thinking of a blonde woman who doesn't swoon at everything he says like anyone he puts any effort in with, the first person he'd been interested in since Eve and the rebellion she represented.)

He's running late for the appointment, due to some truly abysmal traffic and a lack of parking anywhere near the shop, so he's rushing along through the crowd of people that seem to be omnipresent anytime he needs to get somewhere quickly in this city.

"Excuse me, pardon me, I'm actually in a hurry, so--okay, now you're purposefully obstructing everyone here, step to the side if you're going to text--" He turns his head to stare down the offending party, a stern-faced woman with a harsh haircut and horrifically short bangs--when he runs right into someone in the street and gets hot coffee all over his person.

It's not necessarily bad form to swear in public, but the string of words that come out of his mouth certainly cross the line into bad etiquette. It hurts like a motherfucker, and worst of all, the shirt he's wearing is white. Lucifer spares a moment to be thankful--not to a God or anything, just in general--that he's already got an appointment with a tailor.

"Shit!" says the woman he bumped into, and Lucifer turns his head to see Chloe. Because he'd only just managed to mostly put her out of his mind, and the universe is a vicious, punishing thing. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry--"

She's still looking with dismay between his shirt and what's left of her coffee, not at his face, and Lucifer coughs a little. "I didn't take you for a black coffee drinker."

Chloe looks up at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Lucifer? That's--insane, LA is a city of almost 4 million people, what are the chances?"

"Given my luck? Quite high, actually," Lucifer says, and Chloe's expression shutters almost quick enough for Lucifer to miss the flash of hurt across her face. "Because of the coffee! Not--I did like this shirt, but it is good to see you. And I'm near my tailor, anyway."

Chloe still looks a little offended, but she manages a small smile up at him. "You have your own tailor?"

"Well, suits like these don't come off the rack." He holds his arms out, realizes that he's now blocking the crowd and being a huge hypocrite, and lowers them. "Let's step to the side for a second."

"What? Oh, right," Chloe says, and gets out of the way. Someone shoots them a dirty look as they shuffle through to the side. The--chicken and waffles place...interesting--has a bright, tacky red-and-gold awning that gets them a bit of respite from the shade so they can talk.

Chloe digs through her pockets, pulling out receipts and crumpled-up straw wrappers. After glancing at his face, she says, "I'm just trying to find a napkin or something to get the coffee."

Lucifer looks at the reflection of the two of them in the window. His shirt has a giant brown spot in the middle of it that, while it should come out with dry cleaning, is certainly not going to be helped by old napkins. "I'll buy a new shirt while I'm at the tailor. Hopefully it won't need alterations."

Chloe snorts. "'Alterations.'" Her British accent is abysmal and sounds less like him and more like an offensive impression of a character from a cult classic BBC show. "This place looks like a college haunt, you could probably get a USC T-shirt inside until you get home tonight."

Lucifer shudders. "Ugh. Absolutely not."

"What, you're telling me you don't have any cheap clothes that you hold onto just 'cause they're comfortable?"

"A silk robe is comfortable," he grumbles. "Certainly more comfortable than a T-shirt from--" He looks at the door, squinting against the glare of the sun against the 'restaurant' door. "--Classic Southern Cafe of the West Coast."

"I mean, the name leaves something to be desired, but if a place with a name like that's still open then it can't be all bad."

"Or someone with more money than sense decided to throw their life savings at something they were completely unqualified for. Like that cafe in Boston."

Chloe blinks at him. "The cat cafe?"

"You're familiar!" Lucifer says, delighted. "Maze told me about it, she delights in disasters."

"...she told me, too."

Right.

"Okay, look," Chloe says, and Lucifer braces himself for the worst of it. "I'm really sorry about the way I kicked you out." Oh? "I mean...I just--okay, I'm not jealous."

"I hadn't thought you were?" Lucifer says, unsure if he's about to be insulted or what. He's not letting himself be hopeful about anything, though, suffocating the urge to be optimistic about it before it can say whatever it wants to. If this conversation goes well, he'll be pleasantly surprised, and if not, he won't have lost any of the progress he's made over the course of the past few months.

(The most he's hoping for is that he'll be able to talk to her. He enjoys that, more than he does talking with almost anyone else.)

"I just mean...ugh, okay, Maze and I were a thing, okay? Just briefly, barely a month! We didn't really work like that, but we made good friends, and then she was moving out of her old roommate's place and I needed to move out of my mom's old house and it just worked? And it was just--weird, you having slept with her and me also--fuck, sorry, I'm rambling."

She is, which seems pretty unlike her from Lucifer's previous two times that he'd met her, but it's annoyingly endearing anyway. "It's fine, Detective. Don't stop on my account."

Chloe reaches a hand up to rub the back of her neck. "Right. And I just...don't really casually see people, okay? I mean, Maze was an exception. Not in that way, I'm definitely bisexual, just...yeah. And as much as I liked you, I just don't think I have the room for a relationship right now."

Lucifer's heart definitely doesn't drop down into his stomach at that, not at all. "Of course."

"I would like to hang out, though? As friends?" Chloe says. "If you're alright with--"

"I am," Lucifer says, quickly enough that he accidentally interrupts her. She grins up at him, though, so it's good, it's fine. "I...do have to get to this appointment, I need a suit for work--"

"Yeah, of course, sorry to keep you, and sorry again about the coffee! You were right, too, I don't normally like my coffee black, but it's--not important, go get a new suit."

Lucifer nods and smiles, a little awkward, a little unsure, but generally...happier. It's not even as though he was in a bad mood before, but now he's smiling easier, chattier with his tailor, doesn't mind the stain on one of his nicer shirts that's had some time to set in now and might not wash out as easily as he'd like.

Maze has been staring at Lucifer ever since he walked into the bar, wearing a new shirt and a smile. She's been drying the same glass now for almost five minutes, despite how busy it is at the bar and how much Patrick's scrambling to get things done, and it's now just a matter of which one of them will break first: Maze's impatience or Lucifer's love of talking about himself.

Lucifer really does love talking about the things that go well in his life, though, and Maze hasn't even blinked for the last stretch of time. So eventually he heads over with an eyeroll, doesn't miss the victorious smirk on her face, and sits down at the one barstool that's, miraculously, available.

"Spill," Maze says, putting the glass down at last and starting to mix a drink, to Patrick's obvious relief.

"I ran into Chloe," Lucifer says, delighted, and looks to see if Maze will tense up, if she'll show any jealousy that her ex is spending time with him. Decidedly platonic time, but still. He doesn't want a repeat of what happened with Eve. That had been a difficult time for their friendship, and for Lucifer in general, if he's being honest.

She doesn't seem to, not smiling (normal) but nodding in agreement as she looks down at the drink she's pouring. "Cool. Did you go try and find her at the police station or something? Hold up a sign like that dumb movie?"

Lucifer scoffs. "No, of course not, that would have been completely inappropriate, and not in a fun way. Especially given she rejected me." Much as that stings, it's still a novel feeling.

"Good," Maze says, sliding the drink over to a customer who only barely manages to catch it before the glass would've fallen and shattered on the floor and gotten--whatever that drink is, some lurid pink thing, all over her clothes. "So...what? She came to see you at Lux before we opened?"

"No," Lucifer says. "We just ran into each other."

"Jesus, what are the odds," Maze says, grabbing some orange juice from beneath the counter. "You wanna come back here and help out?"

"Of course not," Lucifer says, then walks to the back of the bar to help out anyway. He's not actually good at mixing drinks at all, but he knows where everything is, mostly, grabbing Maze some rum and chopping limes since they're running low. "Are we especially busy today or something? I've never seen the bar this backed up."

"Well, you weren't telling me right away, I had to make a point," Maze says with a quick glare at him. "Apologize to Patrick."

Lucifer doesn't particularly feel like apologizing to Patrick for Maze's behavior, and Patrick seems a bit too busy with pitchers of sangria to do much of anything. There's a lull in their conversation as they get drinks out to the customers as fast as possible without missing any tabs or charges or anything else, but then it slows to something they can talk during.

"Well, I'm glad it worked out, I guess?" Maze says. "Did she, like, rip your shirt off or something? I didn't think Decker had it in her."

"No," Lucifer says. "While I'm not at all opposed, she actually just spilled some coffee--"

Maze laughs. "Holy shit, really? Wow, I didn't realize she was mad at you! I'm normally really good at picking up on anger!"

"It was an accident, Mazikeen, would I be in a good mood if it wasn't?" Lucifer says, annoyed, wiping down the counter with a rag just to get the worst of the condensation and sweat off.

She doesn't respond right away, and when he looks back, she's smiling at him, softer than she normally would. "Hey. I'm glad you're in a good mood about it."

"Okay?" Lucifer says, unused to Maze being nice when she doesn't want something from him. "Why--"

"Which is why I'm gonna tell you right now," Maze interrupts. "That you're my best friend. And that I care about you."

"I--okay? I--"

"And that if you hurt Chloe," Maze says, still smiling, still with that same casual tone. "I will fucking end you. Got that?"

"I haven't even done anything!" Lucifer protests. "Is she getting this same shovel talk? And besides, she's said she's not interested, it's just--friendly."

"Oh," Maze says, relaxing against the counter a little more. "Really? Wouldn't have guessed that. Also...yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, she got the same shovel talk," Maze says with another eyeroll, all trace of her sweet, fake smile gone. "Obviously. You're my best friend."

Lucifer nods, shoulders dropping just a little. It's not that he was worried Maze was picking between him and Chloe, like it's some sort of fight, but it's--nice, to be reassured that she's on his side anyway.

"Also?" Maze says, glare getting worse.

"Also...I care about you too?"

"Thank you!" Maze says in her sweetest, fakest voice of all. "Also, I'm guessing you two didn't exchange numbers again?"

"Shit."

"It's fine, I got you, let me just make sure Chloe's cool with it once I'm home," Maze says. "You're definitely both being stupid as hell, but whatever, at least it'll be fun to watch."

At 1:43am, after they've finished closing up and cleaning and getting everything ready for tomorrow, Lucifer checks his phone for the first time in an hour and sees a text from a number he doesn't recognize.

Hey! It's Chloe. Maze gave me your number, she said you said it was okay

If it's not, I'm sorry and I won't text again

And if you're not Lucifer, I'm sorry and please let me know?

Hello, Detective

She doesn't respond, but it's late enough that she's probably asleep, and frankly, after having to actually work tonight, he's about ready to pass out himself. So he does, gets into the most comfortable sheets he's ever head and is unconscious almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. He misses one more text, from a number he hasn't texted in years.

hey! i'm back in town if you want to meet up! let's partyyyy

#deckerstar #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #lucifer on netflix #fox lucifer #fic: what do you truly desire?#my fics

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kar3npage · 4 years

Text

Next to You

Neil Josten works as a math professor and lives a comfortable life in a neighborhood that happens to house all of his closest friends. He meets Andrew Minyard, the owner of the quaint bookstore down the street, at a barbeque and makes the mistake of agreeing to go to his book club. Lots of Andrew being an obviously lovesick fool, Neil being oblivious, and their friends loving them unconditionally.

Read it on ao3 here

Neil Josten made his way down the quaint street that he somehow managed to get an apartment in. His wheelchair clicked loudly on the pavement, and he got a few sympathetic looks as he rolled past. He does his best to ignore it, though some days that’s easier said than done.

It’s been years since his father died at the hands of Stuart, and a bit more than a year since the rest of his father’s circle was finally caught and imprisoned. No matter how much time passes though, Nathan Wesninski left a lasting impact. The scars on his arms and face make sure that everyone knows that something horrific happened to the young man with red hair, and the wheelchair ensures that he is noticed in every situation.

“Hey buddy!” Matt is easy to find in the cafe they always meet at. To begin with, they always sit at the same table so that Neil can get there comfortably. Also, he is freakishly tall compared to most people, and the spiked hair adds to his height. “Dan sends her apologies. Emergency at work,” Matt says with a grimace and pushes forward the coffee that he ordered for Neil.

Matt and Neil have been best friends since they met in physical therapy when Matt got an injury while he was playing Exy in university. Neil was the first person Matt introduced Dan to when they started dating, and Neil was the one that Matt ran his business plan through when he first decided that he wanted to start a veterinary clinic. Matt was the one that Neil called when he got lonely in his empty apartment, and Matt was the one who forced Neil to get a cat. Neil couldn’t imagine a life without their weekly coffees or Christmas dinner with the Boyd-Wilds.

Matt is describing in minute detail the reason why Dan was not able to come to coffee today - something about one of the high school students she taught struggling with something and going to her for help. The pride Matt felt for his wife was undeniable, and Neil nodded along and let him ramble.

“Anyway, I almost forgot! Allison is putting together a party on Sunday and you have to come,” Matt says after a few minutes.

Neil gives Matt an unimpressed look. “First of all, what is the party even for? Second of all, you know I don’t like parties.”

“I know, I know, but Kevin’s back in town! Plus you got your PhD, we need to celebrate that!”

“I got my PhD two years ago, you’ve got to stop using that as an excuse to have a party.”

Matt grins unapologetically and stares at Neil until he finally says “Fine. But I’m leaving early.”

Before he knew it, Sunday evening was there and Neil was reluctantly making his way to the Boyd-Wilds house. On his lap was a loaf of sourdough bread that he stress baked that afternoon, and a list of conversation topics that he printed off the internet.

While waiting for someone to answer the doorbell, he stuffed the list of questions in his pocket and inspected the cars on the street. There were more people here than normal. Quite a few more. He could recognize Wymacks beat up old truck and Allison's pink convertible, and he was assuming that the rental car across the street was Kevins. There was also a red SUV that he hasn’t seen before, and a very fancy, very shining black car in the driveway.

Allison opened the door like she owned the place, and threw herself on Neils lap for a hug before he could protest.

“I know you were dawdling, your apartment is, like, a block away.”

“Well I can’t walk very fast,” Neil says to Allison while half-heartedly shoving her away. She flicks his nose.

“You can get everywhere faster than me, stop trying to make me feel bad for you,” she sings, then grabs the loaf of bread out of his hand and walks inside without a backwards glance. “Literally everyone got here before you did. Even the monsters.”

Neil comes in hesitantly. There is a great deal of noise coming out of the kitchen, and Neil can see even more people in the backyard through the hallway.

“So… who all came?” Neil says as he emerges into the tight kitchen where Allison disappeared to. There are a multitude of new faces in the kitchen who turn to face him, and he immediately regrets not coming up with an excuse to stay home. Not like any of them would have believed him, but an attempt could have been made.

“Allison, you didn’t say he was that attractive!” a tall man says from the corner. His arms are wrapped around an even taller blond man who smiles genially at Neil and coming forward to offer a hand.

“I’m Erik, and this is my husband Nicky,” the blond man says in a thick German accent.

Allison beams at Neil. “I told you he was cute. And he looks even better when he wears the clothes that I choose for him,” she says to Nicky, giving Neil a pointed look.

“Nicky’s the one doing Matt’s marketing for him now.” Renee’s calm voice comes from the corner, somewhere behind Nicky and Erik. “And he helped Allison with her branding when she started designing.”

Neil hums so they know he heard, then backs out of the kitchen to go to the back. He thinks that he should probably say something polite while he leaves, but Allison and Renee know how he is, and he feels like he’s getting in the way of all the people actually cooking in the kitchen.

The backyard has even more people in it, but it has more space so he doesn’t feel as claustrophobic.

“Neil!” Matt says from where he’s standing at the barbeque with Wymack, sounding like he had no idea that he was coming. Dan and Abby wave at him from their lawn chairs. Another woman is chatting with them, her arm around a short blond man. Kevin is standing near Wymack talking at another small blond man. Neil catalogs the two, checking for differences without thinking about it.

Now he really regrets being here. There isn’t a single group of people that he can talk to that he knows entirely, and everyone else seems to be so comfortable chatting. He briefly considers using Sir as an excuse, but he knows that Matt would insist on going home with him if he thought that there was something wrong with Sir.

“No ones going to bite,” Allison says from behind him, making him jump. He realizes that he is directly in front of the door.

“I should go,” Neil mumbles as Allison walks past him carrying a bowl of salad to the table near the grill. “Nope! You can’t, it's your PhD party!” Allison sings.

Kevin turns around and notices Neil in the doorway. He looks intense, which is just his version of excited.

Allison's announcement has caught everyone's attention and Neil can feel the weight of their eyes. He accidentally makes eye contact with the man who Kevin was talking with, and he shifts his attention quickly.

“It’s not a PhD party, that happened years ago.”

Dan grins. “You know that we’re going to call everything that so you feel obligated to come, right?”

“We just like having you here, Neil,” Renee says sweetly from beside him. Neil can feel his face heating up. “Have you met everyone yet?”

At the shake of his head, Renee introduces the new ones in the backyard. “Andrew is the one with Kevin, he owns the bookshop down the street from the cafe, and then over there is his twin Aaron, and Aaron's wife Katelyn. They work at the hospital together as surgeons.”

“The bookstore you go to all the time?” Neil asks. Andrew is wearing all black despite the summer heat, and his gaze is blank as he watches Kevin get worked up over whatever he’s talking about. Most likely Exy, since he’s been making an Exy podcast since he stopped playing in university.

Renee hums a confirmation. “Andrew and I have tea and cake at the bakery every Saturday. I supply treats to the book club he hosts,” Renee says with a smile. Her bakery is famous around the neighborhood for having the prettiest and most luxurious treats in the city. The woman who helps her run it, Betsy, makes Neil just as uncomfortable as Renee does. That combined with his dislike for sweets means that he very rarely ends up in the shop.

“He hosts a book club?” Neil says, staring hard at Andrew. He doesn’t know why his brain has latched onto the man like this, but he can’t help but be fascinated with how contradictory he seems to be. A man with bigger biceps than Matt who likes Renee's cake (and company) and runs a book club.

Renee smiles, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Oh yes, you should join us sometime. We’re reading Emma at the moment, in honour of the movie coming out.”

Neil narrows his eyes at Renee, but she doesn’t seem to be joking. He’s saved from the need to answer by Erik and Nicky coming out with more food and Wymack announcing that the burgers are done.

Andrews eyes keep sliding over to the redhead with a deer-in-headlights look as he completely blocks the door. Kevin has not shut up about Andrews' missed chance at going pro, and Andrew started blocking him out ages ago. Nearly as soon as Kevin started talking, actually.

Renee winks at him when she notices where his gaze is fixed and he glares at her. Her smile just grows as she finds a lawn chair near Allison. Wymack interrupts the staring contest by putting out the burgers and Andrew bullies his way into line at the table by the grill to fill his plate. Kevin has moved to the back of the line to talk to the redhead, who takes the attack surprisingly well. He makes eye contact with Andrew and gives him a ‘what can you do’ kind of shrug and smile while he nods along to Kevins rant. Andrew pretends he was never looking at them and loads his plate up with bread and potato salad.

“I invited Neil to book club, I hope you don’t mind,” Renee says to Andrew when he sits down in the empty chair beside her.

Allison leans forward to point her fork at Andrew. “I hope you know that I saw you ogling him.”

Andrew glares at her and Renee kicks her foot gently. “I think you and Neil would get along well,” Renee says.

“Who said I wanted to get to know him,” Andrew says while staring at a smirking Neil arguing with Kevin. Kevin’s face has gone an alarming shade of red and Wymack is watching them with a faintly fond expression on his face.

Allison snorts and turns to Katelyn to chat. Renee wisely changes the subject to her thoughts so far on Emma.

Opening the bookstore first thing in the morning is one of Andrews less hated chores. He likes the way the store smells, and the awed silence that it has before customers come in. Robin, his only employee, always takes the evening shift, so he has the whole morning to himself. He starts by setting up a new display in the front window, losing himself to the satisfying feeling of creating something.

The mornings are usually pretty quiet, since the neighborhood has a habit of waking up late whenever possible. The only other shop open is Renee’s bakery down the street, and Boyd’s vet clinic, which he walked past on his way from his place.

Bee drops by at lunch like she often does, with a mocha and a croissant. Bee is Renee’s business partner in the bakery, and responsible for the pastries. The two of them adopted Andrew into their social circle as soon as he became a regular at the bakery when he first opened the bookstore.

“Renee mentioned that we might have a new member of book club this month,” Bee says as she admires the new display. Andrew does not miss the sparkle in her eye, or the pleased smile that she tries to hide by taking another sip of her hot chocolate.

Andrew doesn’t answer.

“It will be nice to hear new opinions,” Bee muses. He can tell that she’s fishing for a reaction, so he places all of his attention on stacking the newly arrived copies of The Glass Hotel. When he turns around, Bee is watching his carefully.

“You know,” she says slowly, “it’s always a good thing to add to your social circle. Neil sounds nice. Matt always has good things to say about him.”

Andrew gives her a dirty look, which she easily ignores. “And he sounds like someone you would get along with. Allison told me that he has his PhD in some sort of math. And he has a cat.”

Andrew snorts. “So having a cat is supposed to make me overlook the fact that he’s interested in math.”

Bee laughs and gives Andrew a knowing look.

A week later, and Neil is starting to get restless at home. He appreciates that the university allows him to teach online classes, but sometimes too much time with only Sir as company makes Neil think weird thoughts. He decides to get a sandwich from the cafe, after dismissing the thought of bothering Matt at work. He knows that he could always call Allison, since she is the boss and can do whatever she wants (or so she says), but he’s in a melancholy mood and he knows that she would force him out of it. For some reason, he wants to just wallow for a minute.

The day is crisper than Neil thought that it would be, but it’s a good kick to his system. He peaks in the window of the clinic when he goes past, and he’s suddenly glad that he didn’t text Matt earlier. It would just make him worry, and it looks like he’ll be busy today.

At times like these, Neil can’t help but feel just a little bit like a chore for his friends. He can always hear the busyness behind Allison when he calls her during the day, and he knows that Matt drops nearly everything to make sure he’s okay. He could always call Wymack, but Wymack is busy trying to save every kid that he comes across at the clubs he runs. Abby is constantly telling him that he’s no bother, but she is also busy at her work as a physical therapist.

The melancholy back as strong as ever, Neil makes his way listlessly down the street. It’s a quiet day today, and all he has to do when he gets home is mark some tests, so he takes his time eating his sad looking sandwich.

It seemed like fate that the bookstore was directly across the street from the cafe. How had Neil never payed attention to that before now?

It’s as quaint as the rest of the stores on the street, but with a darker colour palette than the rest. The window boasts various beautiful copies of Jane Austen books with a poster with information about the book club. The clean design of the poster reminds him of Allisons, and he wonders if Nicky does the marketing for Andrew too.

Neil sits in the cafe for 45 minutes before working up with courage to check out the bookstore.

A small bell rings as he struggles over the cracked concrete at the entrance to get into the store. By the time he actually looks around, Andrew’s flat gaze is heavy on him. He can feel a flush rise up the back of his neck.

Neil clears his throat a few times and tries to pretend that he’s not fazed by the staring. “Renee mentioned that you had a book club?” he says, because he can’t think of anything else to say.

Andrew keeps staring at him. “I think she said the book was Emma, but she didn’t say what day it was.”

“Next Tuesday.”

“Oh.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got something else to do that day?”

“No, I just won’t be able to read the book by then,” Neil says, and to his horror, he feels the flush move onto his cheeks. He looks at a random book in an attempt to hide it.

When he looks back at Andrew, he’s relaxed back into the chair behind the counter. “Most members don’t read the whole thing before the club gets together. Some of them haven’t even started it, they just come for the conversation.”

“Really?” Neil says. The shame at not being a fast reader is starting to fade. He can’t imagine Andrew lying just to make someone feel better, and he has a strange trust for the near stranger.

Andrew tosses a small paperback book to Neil, and Neil fumbles to catch it. It’s the edition of Emma with the movie cover. Andrew waves away Neils offer to pay when he gets to the counter.

“Book club discount,” Andrew says while fidgeting with his sleeves.

“That’s not a great business practice, giving away books for that many people every month.”

Andrew just shrugs.

Neil’s at home and has read the first chapter of the book before he remembers that he was sad.

“Was that Neil that I just saw leaving the bookstore?” Nicky asked far too enthusiastically as he came barreling into the store not two minutes after Andrews bizarre interaction with Neil finished.

“Nope,” Andrew says and puts his book in front of his face to block out Nicky.

“I love Neil! Is he going to hang out with us now?”

“Why would him coming to the store mean that he was going to hang out with us?”

“So it was him! Ha!”

Andrew rolled his eyes and turned the page despite not having read a single word on that page. When Nicky is silent for a few seconds, he puts the book down to look into his thrilled cousins face.

“I think it would be nice if he joined us for family dinner next month,” Nicky says brightly when he notices that he’s caught Andrews attention again.

“Why would he be invited to family dinner,” Andrew says flatly. He spends a moment putting all of his energy into ignoring the daydream of Neil being a part of the family. Andrew feels like a creep, having this weird little fascination with someone who he barely knows.

“Allison said that he doesn’t have any family. Isn’t that sad?” A hint of true sadness pokes through Nicky’s facade and Andrew is abruptly reminded that Nicky’s family is just him, Aaron, and Erik now. “Plus, he’s funny! Did you hear him sass Kevin at the barbeque? Even Aaron laughed!”

“Aaron didn’t laugh, he was coughing. But fine, I’ll invite him,” Andrew says with absolutely no plan to invite Neil.

“No, I don’t trust you to invite him. I will,” Nicky says firmly.

Andrew doesn’t sleep that night. After knowing that Neil will be at book club, and then at family dinner next month (now that Nicky has taken that into his own hands, Neil won’t have a choice but to come), Andrew is starting to feel the stress that usually only pops up after a particularly bad nightmare.

After much introspection, he realizes that it’s not seeing Neil that's causing the stress, but the way that everyone has been watching their interactions.

As soon as 4am hits, Andrew gets up and walks to the bakery. Sure enough, the light is on in the back and Bee’s yellow Mini Cooper is parked in the employee lot. Andrew knocks on the back door and tries not to make eye contact with Bee, who is wearing a knowing, empathetic look on her face.

Andrew settles at the table in the back and watches Bee work. The silence is soothing, and his muscles relax for the first time all night. After a while, she brings over some hot chocolate and sits down across from him.

“If you want me to get the others to lay off of you about Neil, Renee and I will tell them to stop,” Bee says gently.

“That’s not the problem,” Andrew says, his voice gravelly from disuse. They look at each other for a long moment, both waiting for Andrew to figure out what he means to say.

“Neil doesn’t know, and I feel dirty,” Andrew finally says dully.

Bee hums and takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “Do you want to tell him?”

Andrew snorts. “I barely know him.”

“Well, I don’t think that you should feel dirty. And I’m sure he’s been teased by Allison by now, so you don’t have to worry about him not knowing what the others are saying.”

Andrew lets her words sink in, then nods. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Bee smiles, and brings over a hot chocolate croissant after taking the batch from the oven.

“I don’t think that’s very good business practice,” Andrew tells her, as he takes a burning bite.

He doesn’t feel so conflicted when he opens the bookstore, and it ends up being a better day than he thought that it would be.

Neil is enjoying the book more than he thought he would, but he has had much less time to work on it than he planned. After spending most of his days marking, and helping a student over video conference, he was exhausted. And worried.

He could picture himself making a fool of himself at book club, and all of them realizing that he’s not nearly as smart as they all make him out to be.

“I’m sure it’s going to go great! Renee and Bee both love it, and Abby goes! Erik goes when he can, too,” Matt assures him over the phone while Neil tries to come up with an excuse just in case someone confronts him for not going.

“I’ve only read a few pages,” Neil says slowly.

“That's a few pages more than me! Plus, we both know you have a lot of thoughts about it,” Matt says with a grin in his voice. Neil wishes he hadn’t told Matt about the characters over coffee the other day.

Sir is purring delightedly on Neils chest. “I can’t go, Sir is on my lap,” he tries again.

Matt pauses, but Neil hears Dan in the background. “No! That’s not an excuse! Sir cuddles you all the time.”

Matt sighs into the phone. “She’s right, buddy. I think you’ll have fun. And they have free coffee and stuff. That’s always fun.”

20 minutes later, Neil is miserably locking his apartment door and officially on his way to book club.

The atmosphere is surprisingly warm and cozy in the book shop at 7pm. There’s soft music playing, and people are chatting in little groups. There are only a few people that Neil doesn’t recognize, and the circle of chairs taking up most of the floor looks comfortable. For some reason Neil was expecting this to feel more like a test.

Abby beams when she sees him hovering by the door and waves him over. Neil recognizes the woman she’s talking to as Katelyn.

“We were wondering if you would come,” Abby says warmly, knowing his history of wiggling his way out of social situations.

Katelyn smiles at him and sits on the closest chair so he doesn’t have to look up at her. Neil feels a bit grateful at that, and even more so when she offers him a cheese scone and a cup of coffee from the center table.

Katelyn launches into a story about a patient, and Erik works his way to their group.

“Neil,” he says quietly as a greeting, and Neil gives him a shy smile. “Nicky was wondering if you wanted to come to dinner in a few weeks. He’s promising to make enchiladas.”

Neil swears that his brain short circuits for a moment. “You want me over… for dinner?”

“Here, I’ll get your number and Nicky can text you the time and place,” Erik says, ignoring his shock.

Andrew comes out from the backroom with more coffee, and that seems to be a symbol of some kind for everyone to take their places.

“Okay, what did you think?” Andrew says bluntly, and that’s it. Everyone has opinions, some of them silly and some serious. Half of the group hasn’t finished the book, and Katelyn admits to not even starting it.

Andrew is having a light argument with Bee about whether Emma is a likeable main character with others popping in their two cents when Neil first says something.

“I thought she was kind of fun,” Neil mumbled. When he looks up, Andrew has an unreadable expression on his face.

“See, Bee? She’s fun,” he says in a monotone. Neil has to fight the smile threatening to show.

The meeting is chaotic and warm, and Neil learns a great deal about the people in the room. He learns that Erik is a huge fan of the worst Austen movies, and that Katelyn barely reads but always shows up to book club. He also learns that Andrew is incredibly passionate about the books, but that doesn’t surprise him as much as it probably should.

The only awkward moment is at the end when everyone starts to help put their chairs back in place. When Neil offers to help, the room goes quiet.

“Take this,” Andrew says gruffly and shoves the tray of mostly finished treats at him. Andrew takes the coffee cups and walks to the back, so Neil follows him.

The back room is nearly as cozy as the front of the shop, and a girl that Neil didn’t even know was there is grabbing her bag to leave. Her name tag says ‘Robin’, and Andrew says bye to her almost fondly.

Neil puts the tray on the table in the middle of the room and watches Andrew move efficiently through the cramped space. He has a million questions to ask Andrew, but he’s not sure how to, so he contents himself with analyzing the room.

“You have a question,” Andrew says without turning around.

“I have lots of questions,” Neil says.

Andrew finally turns around and leans on the counter. “I’ll answer if you let me ask you something.”

Neil winces. “If it’s about the scars, you don’t need to bribe me to answer them.”

“It was something else, actually.”

Neil fidgets with the wheels for a moment. “Fine, I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

Andrew tosses his phone to Neil, and Neil feels a little thrill as he enters his number in. He texts himself so he can program the number into his phone. Matt’s going to be so proud to hear that he got two numbers today.

Andrew doesn’t say anything when he gets his phone back, just puts a tupperware container on the table so that Neil can pack up the leftover treats.

Before Neil leaves, Andrew says “Next months book is Atonement.”

Neil wakes up to four text messages. One is from Matt asking how the night went, one is from Erik warning him that he gave Nicky his number, one is emoji filled from Nicky, and the last one is from Andrew. It just says ‘You go first’.

Neil spends his whole morning messing up his marking because he’s thinking too hard about what his first question will be for Andrew. He gives up trying to work when Sir knocks over his coffee and nearly breaks his laptop.

Neil: What made you want to own a bookstore?

Andrews reply comes faster than Neil was expecting. He feels a little thrill when he hears the ping of his phone.

Andrew: Everything you could ask me, and that was your question?

Neil: You never said that there were topics that weren’t allowed.

Andrew: ...exactly

Neil startles when his phone starts ringing on the sofa beside him. Sir gives him a wide eyed look until he picks it up.

“I thought you were at work,” he says to Andrew.

“I would say the same thing about you, but I’m starting to doubt whether you actually have a job.”

“I do have a job,” Neil says smugly. “I’m a university professor. I teach online classes. And you’re avoiding my question.”

“There aren’t any customers in here, smartass,” Andrew says not unkindly. Neil smothers a smile. “So do you still persist in asking me why I wanted to own a bookstore?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t want to do anything,” Andrew says.

Neil stays quiet and waits for him to give him the rest of the answer.

“I like reading, and I don’t like libraries.”

“Okay,” Neil says. He feels strangely content on the phone. Normally he sucks on the phone, and forgets to answer. “Your turn.”

Andrew is quiet for a moment. “Why did you come to book club?”

“Matt told me I needed more friends, and he wouldn’t let me use Sir as an excuse not to go,” Neil says honestly. He’s found that ever since he became a real boy all those years ago, he has a hard time lying. It always leaves him feeling gross and wrong.

Andrew huffs on the other end of the phone. “You seem to have lots of friends.”

“That’s what I said. The argument wasn’t accepted.”

Sir meows at Neil until he arranges himself so she can sit on his lap.

“Is that your cat?” Andrew says, breaking a comfortable silence.

“You already asked your question,” Neil teases, tangling his hand in Sir’s fur. She starts her wheezing, loud purr and he can hear Andrew huff again.

“Tell your broken cat that she won’t make me look over your interest in math,” Andrew says.

“What?” Neil laughs. “Who told you I taught math?”

“You’ve caught everyone's attention. I can’t walk down the street without hearing a new fact about you,” Andrew says dryly. “Anyway, math is awful and a terrible subject to choose to study.”

“Math is interesting! It’s the only universal language!” Neil says, not nearly as upset about Andrews accusation as he normally would be. He’s halfway through a tangent on the wonders of math before he catches himself.

“Sorry,” Neil says sheepishly. “You’re probably not interested.”

“More than you would think,” Andrew says, sounding perturbed. “There’s a customer.”

Neil is surprised by the amount of disappointment he feels when the call stops.

It becomes a habit during the slow times in the day. Andrew calls Neil when he’s bored and finished putting away any new merchandise, or Neil will call Andrew when he’s tired of trying to understand his students confused writing. So far, Neil has learnt that Andrew was in juvie as a teen, and grew up in the foster care system. He learns that Nicky is their cousin and that he took surprisingly good care of Andrew and Aaron when they were angsty teens, and he learns that Andrew has always struggled with touch. He learns lighter things too, like how Andrews favourite movie is Baby Driver (but he will never admit that to anyone else because he has a reputation to uphold), and his favourite colour is blue.

Neil returns the favour but giving away as much information as he’s getting. During their eighth phone call he has a panic attack when he tells Andrew about his father, and how he came to be in a wheelchair. Andrew talks him through it calmly, and doesn’t give him any weird looks when he visits the bookstore two days later.

The month runs by much faster than Neil is used to, and he hasn’t called Matt in a lonely depression a single time. He feels oddly proud of himself for it.

When Nicky texts to remind him of the dinner that him and Erik are hosting, Neil is almost looking forward to it. He has heard from Nicky almost as much as Matt, and the texts have been just as enthusiastic.

He spends the afternoon before baking bread while he chats with Andrew. Andrew had practically forced him into accepting a ride in his ridiculous, fancy car, and has spent the entire afternoon giving him various warnings about Nicky and Aaron.

“Nicky will hug you,” Andrew says with a voice that sounds like he’s informing Neil of a death. “More than once. Erik’s not bad, but Nicky’s a hugger.”

Neil laughs while he kneads the bread. “It’s okay, Allison sits on my lap every time she sees me. People keep thinking we’re dating.”

Andrew hums in acknowledgement and continues with his warnings. “Aaron is judgy.”

“And you aren’t?” Neil says, thinking back to all of the customers that Andrew has thoroughly made fun of.

“He’s a different brand of judgy. Katelyn keeps it down for the most part, but he’s very rude,” Andrew says, like he doesn’t have any similar traits.

“How often do you all have dinner together?”

“A few times a year. Nicky insists on our family dinners.”

Neil pauses. “It’s a family dinner?”

The line goes quiet.

“Andrew? I can’t crash a family dinner,” Neil is starting to feel the root of panic in his chest.

“You wouldn’t be crashing it. Nicky and Erik invited you.”

“But he didn’t say it was for family,” Neil says nervously. Sir meows at him and jumps in his lap. He attempts to shove her off with his elbows so he doesn’t get flour on her.

“Neil,” Andrew says calmly. “I’m coming to get you in three hours. Sir is not an excuse to not come.”

“Fine.”

As promised, Andrew shows up at Neils door three hours later. His mouth goes dry when Neil opens the door. Neil has never put much effort into his appearance, so Andrew is definitely not ready for the button up shirt and styled hair. Neil's apartment smells like freshly baked bread, and the cat that he hears on the phone all the time is sitting comfortably on Neils lap, unconcerned with the fact that Neil is moving around the apartment and fidgeting while she does so.

The apartment is spare, with lots of space between furniture for Neil to move around. The kitchen counters a lower as well, and Neil navigates the room efficiently and quickly. He pushes off Sir with some reluctance, then grabs a loaf of bread and shoves it into Andrews hands so he can put on his jacket.

“You look nice,” Neil says nervously.

Andrew can feel his ears heat up. “You do too,” he says, though it comes out flat and uncaring. Neil beams anyway and leads the way out.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Andrew finally says when they are both in the car and on their way. “Nicky would die for you.”

“Nicky barely knows me,” Neil says, looking baffled.

“It only takes him a few minutes to latch on to people. Look at me and Aaron. One glance and now he won’t let go.”

Neil smiles gently at him and goes back to fidgeting with his cuffs.

Andrew had never payed attention to the accessibility of places until he met Neil. He is extremely aware of how cracked and uneven the pavement is in front of Nicky’s, and all he can think about is how cramped the living room is.

Neil is looking at the pavement with trepidation. “Would you be able to help me, maybe…” Neil says quietly.

“Yes.”

Neil nods and pops open his wheelchair, moving into it with practiced ease. Andrew waits for him to get comfortable before standing behind him give the chair a push.

They make it safely to the front door, and as Nicky welcomes them in, Andrew notices that the furniture in the living room has been moved so there is more space. Erik notices him looking and smiles, offering a hand to Neil as they come inside.

Aaron and Katelyn are already there, sitting in the dining room. Katelyn greets Neil just like she had a book club and starts a conversation with him about their next book. He can see the relief written all over Neils expression.

When Andrew looks over at Aaron, he’s watching him and Neil with an inscrutable expression. Andrew offers the bread to Nicky, not bothering to say it was from Neil. They all know that Andrew has very little patience in the kitchen.

Dinner goes better than Andrew had hoped. No one questions Neil's place there, and he seems to have a good time talking to Erik in German. Andrew interjects every once in a while, and Nicky looks like he’s going to cry when Erik lights up when he realizes that Neil speaks his language fluently.

It’s not until dessert that Aaron opens his mouth to Neil.

“So what makes you so special?” Aaron says, fixing Neil a suspicious look.

Neil blinks, and pushes his plate of dessert to Andrew to finish.

“Umm…”

Katelyn elbows Aaron and gives him a significant look, and Nicky just looks tired.

“Normally only family gets invited to family dinner. And Andrew won’t even take the time out of his day to phone his own twin, so it’s kind of funny that you made your way in so easily.”

Neils expression shutters and Andrew pushes away the dessert.

“I’m sorry,” Neil says in his professional voice. “If I would have known that this was just for family, I would not have intruded.”

“Aaron, Erik and I invited him,” Nicky says with a look that Andrew hasn’t seen since they were teens and Erik was still in Germany.

“Neil, the bread you made was incredible. Do you bake often?” Katelyn says sweetly. Aaron catches her eye and they have a bit of a silent conversation while Neil stares at his plate.

“I just think it’s unusual that everyone loved him so quickly, that’s all,” Aaron says. The room, except Neil, seems to collectively understand what's happening at the same time. Aaron is upset that they took Neil in so quickly when he had to fight for Katelyn, and when Nicky had to fight for Erik.

“I think we’re done here,” Andrew says when he realizes that Neil isn’t going to say anything else. Neil knows the rocky history between Aaron and Andrew, and he didn’t seem to get in between the two of them.

“Would you like to take home some of the pudding, Andrew?” Erik says sadly. Nicky looks like he’s valiantly fighting off tears, and Katelyn's face is nearly as stoney as Neils.

“No, we’re going to go,” Andrew says, and Neil follows him out of the house. Andrew waits at the door so he can help him over the pavement, and no one says a word until they are both settled in the car.

“I told you I shouldn’t have come to a family dinner,” Neil says quietly. Not in a blaming way, just sadly.

“That’s bullshit,” Andrew says. His hands are gripping the steering wheel with more force than completely necessary.

“It’s okay Andrew. I didn’t want to cause a fight.”

“You didn’t cause one.” Andrew stops at a stop sign and turns to look at Neil. “You didn’t cause one, it was already there.”

He waits for Neil to nod before he goes again. The rest of the trip is quiet.

The excitement doesn’t catch up with Andrew until a few days later. He thought that he was dealing fine with Aaron until he woke up and couldn’t get the energy to get out of bed.

It would be easy to be mad at himself. He has a habit of doing that. Bee and Renee always tell him that healing is just like that, two steps forward and one step back, but it’s easy to forget how devastating it is when the step back comes.

He closes his eyes for a few minutes and it’s already 9:30.

The minutes drag by slowly and too fast all at the same time. He’s too hot but there isn’t any energy to push off the blankets or open a window. He stares blankly at the ceiling and fights desperately for the memories not to overwhelm.

He isn’t sure what time it is when his phone rings. He lets it go, but it starts ringing again after.

He finally reaches over to answer, not saying anything once the call connects.

“Andrew?” Neil’s tentative voice says through the speakers. “I’m at the store and it’s still closed. I was worried.”

Andrew can hear the concern. He sighs and closes his eyes again.

“Do you want me to hang up?”

“No.” Andrews voice is gravelly.

“Okay,” Andrew can hear Neil's wheels against the pavement. “Do you want me to come over? You can say no.”

Andrew barely has to think it over. He doesn’t want Neil to see him like this, but he can’t get out of bed and he needs someone to open the window for him. He gives Neil his address and holds the phone to his ear while he waits. Neil doesn’t hang up.

When Neil gets there, he tells him where the spare key is, and the front door clicks open not long after.

“Andrew?” Neil's voice echoes through the quiet house.

“Hey,” Neil says when he gets to Andrews bedroom door. He doesn’t come inside, just talks from the hallway. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

Andrew turns to look blearily at him, and Neil leaves to look around in the kitchen. He comes back some time later with toast and a glass of water, and waits for permission to come into the room. He sits beside Andrews bed and starts reading Atonement out loud while Andrew eats, stopping every once in a while to make sure he stays hydrated.

Andrew doesn’t know how long they sit like that before his brain stop cycling and he’s able to look at the room clearly.

“You can stop,” Andrew says when he realizes that Neil’s voice is starting to go from talking so much. “Here,” he says, handing Neil a blanket from his bed. The room is getting cold with the window open, but he doesn’t want it closed yet.

Neil leaves much later, once it’s already dark outside, and Andrew manages to get some real sleep that night.

“Seriously buddy, I can’t believe you didn’t just chew him out,” Matt is still going on over the phone about the failed dinner party from a week ago. Neil is updating one of his courses while Matt rants. “What a dick move. Although, now that I think about it…”

After the silence goes on for longer than necessary, Neil says “Go on.”

“It’s notoriously difficult to get an invite to a Minyard family dinner.”

“You’re acting like it’s the Met Gala.”

“Hey, you remember what the Met Gala is! And I’m serious. It took Katelyn, like, two years of dating Aaron before she was allowed to go. Andrew refuses to have extra people there.”

“I know, that’s why Aaron was mad. And stop talking about Andrew like he’s not being reasonable.”

Matt is quiet for a bit. “I just think that Andrew should have been more open minded to Katelyn, and I wish that Aaron hadn’t been rude to you.” “You don’t know the whole story.”

“I know,” Matt sighs. “Out of everyone in the whole world, why did you choose Andrew Minyard?” The question doesn’t sound judging, just genuinely curious.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never looked twice at anyone else. What is it about Andrew that caught your attention?”

“Andrew and I aren’t dating,” Neil says for the millionth time. Although, the more he thinks about it, the more Neil decides that maybe he would like that.

The usual suspects are at book club that Tuesday, all clutching their versions of Atonement. Some are filled with post-it notes and written all over, and others are in impeccable condition. Neil’s is somewhere in between. He didn’t manage to finish this one yet either, but he was pretty proud of himself for getting almost three quarters of the way through.

Erik and Katelyn come over to talk to him before anyone else. Neil can tell that it’s an apology of sorts, but he’s just glad that they don’t mention anything outright. He would rather pretend that nothing happened.

He waves at Andrew when he comes in, and Andrew gives him his coffee before putting the rest of the mugs down on the table. Katelyn winks at him for some reason at that.

The conversation is more somber for this book, but Neil enjoys it just as much, and he has much more to say now that he’s more comfortable with everyone. He also notices that there are more savoury options on the sweats tray.

Neil stays back to help clean the dishes in the back, and then stays after they’re all done. Bee smiles at Andrew before she leaves, and Erik promises to organize a movie night or something with them all, and then the shop is empty except for Neil and Andrew.

“I have a question,” Neil says before he can lose his nerve.

Andrew nods once and watches him intensely, like he always does.

“Are you… Would you-,” Neil tries to line up his thoughts into a sentence that doesn’t sound weird or embarrassing.

Andrew doesn’t say anything, just watches him fluster his way through his words.

“I would like to kiss you,” Neil finally says.

“That’s not a question,” Andrew says, and for the first time in months, Neil can’t quite read his expression.

“The question was implied,” Neil says nervously.

“If this is some sort of sexuality crisis, I don’t want to be your experiment.”

“This isn’t a sexuality crisis. I’ve never been interested in anyone like I am in you.”

Neil’s pretty sure that the shop has never been this silent before. “I’ll leave,” Neil finally says. He can feel a rock in his throat that makes him want to be in bed with Sir’s comforting warmth on his chest. He tries to not think of the fact that Andrew probably won’t call him tomorrow like he usually does.

“Don’t be stupid,” Andrew says before Neil can get to the door. He raises an eyebrow after Neil turns around. “I didn’t say no.”

“You didn’t say yes either.” Andrew's face does something complicated. “Yes.”

Neil goes to Andrew, where he’s still sitting in the one armchair that he always chooses for book club.

“Yes?” Neil says when he’s right beside Andrew.

Andrew’s eyes are dark when he says, “yes.”

Andrew kisses as passionately as he argues about books, and Neils mind stops for a blissful moment. He can feel every inch of Andrews hand pulling him in by the back of his neck, feel the heat of Andrews body being so close.

He feels dazed when Andrew pulls away, and is pleased to see that Andrew looks nearly as ruffled as Neil feels.

“Would you like to go on a date?” Neil says.

“I thought you already asked your question,” Andrew says, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Technically the first one wasn’t actually a question.”

Andrew's mouth quirks up on one side.

Their date turns out to be a nice dinner at a park that Neil later admits was suggested by Allison. Andrew doesn’t mind, because he’s pretty sure that it would have been at the cafe if it was just up to Neil.

Andrew wishes everything was as easy as it was to start seeing Neil. Neil was practically incapable of keeping his emotions in around Andrew, and his bluntness made sure that miscommunication was avoided.

Aaron was a different story. All that Andrew wanted to do was ignore everyone else and let them figure out that Neil and Andrew were… something. Dating, he supposed. Unfortunately, Bee nearly forced him to talk it out with Aaron.

So here he is, holding his phone on a Saturday morning, waiting for his brother to pick it up.

He sighs when Aaron picks up, and is briefly tempted to just hang up and continue their relationship as it’s been for the past few years.

“Andrew?” Aaron says groggily. He sounds worried.

“Aaron.”

“Are you… dying or something?”

Andrew sighs again. “No. I wanted to talk.”

There’s a stunned silence, and then the sound of Aaron getting up and moving around.

“Okay,” he says hesitantly. “That’s… nice. Good. How is the store?”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

Andrew resists the urge to sigh again. “How is your job.”

“The hospital has been good. Busy, like always, but it’s been really good. Katelyn is working today, actually, so it’s just me home right now.”

The silence stretches like an elastic. Andrew wishes that he was talking to Neil, then blinks in surprise at his thoughts. He didn’t realize how much he actually enjoyed just talking to Neil.

“Is there something that you wanted to talk about in particular?” Aaron asks.

“I,” Andrew starts. It’s more difficult to get the words out than he thought it would be, but he squares his shoulders. “I am sorry that I didn’t like Katelyn. And Neil and I are together.”

“Oh. I mean, I knew you guys were dating.”

“No, you didn’t,” Andrew says, not bothering to explain that they didn’t start until recently. Aaron just huffs.

“Well, thank you,” Aaron says. “And… I’m sorry. About what I said to Josten.”

Andrew nods once, even though he knows that Aaron can’t see him.

“Erik invited us to that movie night. Are you going to come?”

“Yes,” Andrew says, already exhausted by this conversation.

“Okay. Well, see you then.”

“Yep,” Andrew says, then waits for Aaron to hang up.

Neil is stuck in that moment between sleep and waking, the feverish version of everyday life. He can see the soft grey of his bedroom wall, and the brick of the basement in Baltimore at the same time. Hear the whir of the ceiling fan and the giggles of Lola, smell the citrusy scent of his cleaning supplies and the metallic tang of blood.His legs ache in both realities.

As his mind clears, he realizes that the pain in his legs is likely what brought the past back so clearly. He stares hard at the white ceiling in an attempt to stop the thoughts spinning around his mind.

Tonight is movie night, he remembers.

It’s raining outside, the first rain for most of the summer and probably the reason for the constant discomfort in his tendons. He was hoping that he was past this, even though Abby was always warning him that there would always be times that this would happen. Long term pain couldn’t be avoided with that much damage, he would just have to have plans in place for when it hit.

Neil spends most of the morning trying very hard not to move, and not to think about his legs. It’s harder to distract himself when he doesn’t have anything to entertain himself. Sir seems thrilled with their extended lie-in, and he contents himself with watching her little belly move while she breathes.

The abrupt ringing of his phone startles him, sending sharp pains down to his feet. It takes eons for Neil to move enough that he can reach the phone. It’s already gone to voicemail by the time he’s caught his breath enough to look at who called. He calls Andrew back immediately.

“Nicky wants us to come by at 4 so we can have dinner and talk first,” Andrew says with vague disgust in his voice. It’s almost enough to make Neil smile. Unfortunately, he feels to guilty about the fact that he isn’t sure whether he’ll even make it to Nicky’s tonight.

“Hi,” he says to Andrew. “That’s usually how people start their conversations. With a greeting.”

Andrew snorts quietly. “Because you always follow societal conventions.”

Neils stifles a groan as he tries to sit up. He gives up in an awkward, half slumped position.

“Neil?” Andrew’s tone has changed and Neil realizes that Andrew had said something.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” he says, strain evident in his voice.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Neil can hear how pathetic it sounds, and desperately hopes that Andrew doesn’t. He doesn’t want Andrew to see how high maintenance he is when they’ve only been dating for a little bit.

“Where are you?” Andrew sounds concerned, and Neils gut clenches a bit.

“I’m at home, I’m fine.” “I’m coming over.”

“No, you don’t need to. You’ll see me tonight, anyway.”

Neil can hear a murmured conversation, muffled by a hand. “Robins taking the desk, and I’m coming over.”

“Wait, Robin is there? What time is it?” Neil can feel the first sparks of anxiety.

“It’s almost 2,” Andrew says, panting slightly as he walks.

Neil thinks of all the things he was supposed to do today. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to come to movie night,” Neil says, trying to quash the panicked note in his voice. “I have a lot to do today, I was supposed to have an online meeting at 10 and I totally forgot. And I need to record a few audio recordings to go with the notes for the last unit. And-”

“Neil,” Andrew waits until Neil stops rambling. “I’m at your door and I’m coming in, okay?”

Neil makes a noise of assent and clutches the phone to his ear until he hears Andrew walk in.

Andrews silhouette fills the doorway to Neils bedroom seconds later, and he becomes overly aware of how he looks, sagging on the bed with blankets strewn around him. Sir sits up sleepily and blinks at the intruder, then starts to have a very noisy bath. Neil gives Andrew a guilty look.

“What's wrong?” Andrew says, and his voice is so gentle that Neil has to blink away tears.

“I just slept in, thats all,” Neil says, like his bedroom doesn’t look like a murder scene. He thinks of the wheelchair, walker and other equipment sitting around his room. He’s trying to remember whether he put away all of the physical therapy equipment when Andrew sits down slowly on the edge of his bed.

“Are you sick?”

Neil sighs. “No, it’s the rain.”

A small wrinkle forms in between Andrews brows.

“My legs. The change in weather makes them hurt sometimes. Which is stupid, because the weather is always changing around here.” Neil tries to smile and fails miserably.

“What can I do?”

Neil blinks rapidly at the ceiling. He can hear Sir leave the room and feels irrationally abandoned by her.

“Have you eaten yet?” Andrew says, changing tactics. He leaves too when Neil shakes his head, and the lonely feeling reappears.

Both the cat and his boyfriend come back minutes later, the latter carrying a plate of food and a mug of tea with him. He also has pain pills in his hand.

“I was assuming that these would help, though I’m not sure how they were going to do that from the kitchen,” Andrew says.

“I have to have them with food.”

Andrew has managed to find one of the fancy trays that Allison bought him years ago and helps him prop himself up against the pillows before placing it down on his lap. There are fresh cut strawberries and bread with honey on his plate, and Neil stares at Andrew while he bustles around the room. He’s so focused on how his hair shines in the sunlight now streaming from his window that he almost doesn’t notice that Andrew’s cleaning the floor so that his wheelchair can move around easier.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Andrew says, but the blush rising in his ears betrays his feelings.

“You didn’t have to come here,” Neil says.

“What do you do when you’re by yourself and this happens?”

Neil shrugs. “I lie in bed until I think that I can manage moving, and then I take the pills with crackers or something. And then I end up sleeping on the couch most of the day because the pills make me feel weird.”

Andrew thinks for a moment. “Do you need ice? Or a heating pad?”

“Ice would be nice,” Neil mumbles into his tea.

Andrew pauses in the doorway, looking oddly hesitant. He nods to himself before opening his mouth. “Do you ever resent being in the wheelchair?”

Neil considers the question for long enough that Andrew almost leaves without an answer. “I used to. I was really angry after it all, and it felt like I couldn’t do anything by myself. But once all of the bandages were off and Abby had taught me how to do everything, I was really glad for the wheelchair. It means that I can be independent and move around without as much pain as the walker. And there are some benefits,” Neil grins. “I can move around the apartment and still let Sir sit on my lap.”

Andrew turns around, but Neil catches the small smile on his face before he goes.

Half an hour later and Neil is swaddled in blankets, comfortably full, and sandwiched between Andrew and Sir while they watch a baking show that Andrew made him swear that he would never tell Nicky that he liked.

Matt and Dan have always tried to get Neil to call them over when this happened, and now he is starting to see why. He feels safe and almost comfortable, the pain down to a manageable level with the care that he has been given. He wonders what it would have been like if he had admitted to needing help years ago.

“How would you feel about inviting everyone here instead,” Andrew says suddenly, pushing Neil out of his head. “You don’t have to. We could reschedule movie night, Nicky would understand.”

“Aaron wouldn’t,” Neil says with something close to a pout.

Andrew’s lips twitch upward before he gets control of his expression. “Aaron would understand too.”

“I couldn’t feed them, though,” Neil says morosely. He had been looking forward to this, strangely. Maybe because this time his friends were invited too. It was sure to be loud and chaotic, but Neil thought that it would be nice for all of his favourite people to be in one room.

“Idiot,” Andrew says with too much fondness for it to be insulting. “Nicky and Matt will bring food. And Renee’s doing dessert.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Andrew watches their friends and family get comfortable in Neil’s tiny living room. All of them are holding mismatched plates filled with food and have managed to move enough things around that they could all fit in front of the TV.

Neil is sitting beside him in the corner of the sectional, legs stretched out in front of him and a plate of fruit in his hands. He still looks pale and tired, but he keeps giving Andrew a brilliant smile and he belly laughed at a joke that Matt made, so Andrew has decided that offering to bring everyone to him was a good idea after all.

Matt and Dan have somehow contorted themselves so that they can fit on the armchair beside the couch, and Aaron and Katelyn are snuggled up on the other side of the couch. Aaron had even given Neil a respectful nod and a booklet of well-meaning advice on how to care for his legs when they arrived.

(Andrew had seen the way Neil tried not to laugh when he looked through the booklet, and how his muscles seemed to relax at the lack of a rude greeting from his brother)

Erik and Nicky were cuddled on Neil’s comforter on the floor, with Renee and Allison beside them. Kevin was leaned up against the armchair and cheerfully arguing with Aaron about what a proper diet looks like.

The movie had started half an hour ago, but most of them were talking over it while Nicky shushed everyone.

Andrew’s chest is holding an expanding warm feeling while he watches the mayhem, and when he turns to look at Neil, Neil’s expression mirrors the warmth.

When Neil falls asleep on his shoulder later while Sir kneads his lap, and his brother nods acceptance at him, he knows that this will be his future.

56 notes · View notes

clansayeed · 4 years

Text

The Interview ― a Bound by Destiny drabble

⥼ Summary ⥽

Nervous, broke, and way under-qualified, Nadya applies for a last-resort secretary job at the illustrious Raines Corp. But a cup of coffee before her interview might just change her life.

note: This piece takes place before the events of the Oblivion Bound series. It takes the events of Bloodbound 1 CH 1 and tailors them specifically to Nadya, and is referenced a handful of times throughout Bound by Destiny.

Happy Birthday Oblivion Bound! On June 29th you turned 1 year old, and I couldn’t be more excited to have so much more of this story to tell. To everyone who has joined me along the way I hope you enjoy this little piece!

check out the fake screencaps for this piece!

word count: 4,902 rating: teen+ content warnings: none find out more: HERE

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

[READ IT ON AO3]

In all the articles she read (that morning, which probably wasn’t a good way to start out even the potential of this job) there was a universal agreement that being the last person interviewed was about as bad as being the first.

But none of those stupid articles told her what to do when she finds herself stuck smack-dab in the middle.

She keeps trying to push up her glasses. There’s a half-crescent probably permanently etched into the bridge of her nose by now. Great first impression to make, honestly.

The conference room door opens and everyone tries to play it cool, tries not to look at the face of the woman who exits. They don’t want to get their hopes up. They don’t want to think three hours of waiting is for nothing.

She leaves just like all the others. The next name is called just like all the others. Four seats to her left the young man stands and adjusts his tie. Runs his tongue over his pearly teeth — and closes the pristine wooden doors behind him.

What had Lily said? Something helpful, probably. Though she’s certain now it was probably mixed in with a whole lot of nonsense. Motivational quotes, stress-relief tips that worked on everyone but the chronically anxious. But, much like how she finds herself, there’s one sliver of usefulness among the chaos.

“Caffeine. If you get the jitters just tell them you’re excited to work there! If not… well you’ll have coffee and that’s a gift on its own.”

The last candidate was interviewed for twenty-three minutes. Before her; thirty-one minutes.

So she rationalizes there’s nothing wrong with leaving her clipboard on her seat and rushing to the lobby for a quick java boost. Hadn’t there been a coffee cart right off to the side…?

It’s only fitting that the last of her freehand cash is spent here. If by some miracle she actually gets the job it’ll be something funny to reminisce on after she gets through the first year.

If she gets through the first year.

The middle of the afternoon has come and gone, now. She looks out through the glass walls of the front atrium to see the sky fading into the ombre of evening light. At this rate the interviewer won’t get to her in time, and she’s pretty darn sure this isn’t the type of place to waste a call back on something as trivial as a secretarial position.

It’s New York. Secretaries are a dime a dozen. That much is obvious.

Now comes the hard part — waiting. Trying not to tap her foot on the expensive marble floors and trying not to look back so much she messes up her hair and trying not to chew her lip so hard she walks into her interview with blood on her teeth.

“Are you alright?”

The first words said to her since she arrived; well… apart from “Complete the forms given before your interview. You will be called in by order of arrival” hammered out by the terse blonde interviewer. The first words and they’re kind and she’s definitely thrown more than a little off-kilter by the whole thing.

And coming from the custom-fit Suit she just happened to stand near, too? Well now she’s wary of flying pigs on the evening weather forecast.

It’s hard not to look at him from the ground up; to take in all of him with the money that seeps from his collar and cuffs and the way his tie pin catches the lights overhead. From the way he carries himself the Suit knows all this; he’s accustomed to it.

Only… her appreciation halts at his eyes. Dark brows just shy of knitted together and a shine in his eyes that has nothing to do with fluorescent bulbs and everything to do with… with…

It’s an impossible sensation. One she’s never felt before. Not just hard to describe but literally — she can’t. There aren’t words for a look like that. Open and honest and genuine and…

“Soy latte for Nadya.”

Is she staring? She feels like she’s staring.

The Suit laughs. It’s the shift in his expression that does it — puts her squarely back inside her own head where everything is all a hectic jumble of professional words and an itemized list of accomplishments. Yup, she was staring. If she gets this job she’ll have to rely solely on home-brewed coffee so as to never meet this man again.

“Are you Nadya?”

The burning in her cheeks is in direct contrast to her chosen blush. But Nadya has a feeling he’s the least likely person to notice that, here. The coffee cart barista on the other hand…

It’s hard to stop her hand from trembling as Nadya reaches out for her coffee. Hopefully not enough to notice, certainly not enough to spill anything, but nope nope nope about mission — the Suit noticed. The Suit noticed!

“I’m sorry,” her apology; a compulsion, “I—that was super rude of me. Oh my god, I… probably look like such a weirdo.”

“A bit,” he muses in reply. But he doesn’t seem all too bothered by it? It has the gears in her head turning backwards trying to understand.

“At the risk of sounding vain —”

“—said every vain person ever?”

“Too true; but I digress. You have nothing to be sorry for — it’s not the first time something like that has happened.” He’s on the nose there — between the polished cufflinks and his smile just the same the guy definitely sounds vain.

The first sip of her latte is always the same — tentative, just a quick taste to make sure her stomach isn’t gonna regret it later — but Mr. Vanity doesn’t look away which is a little unnerving to say the least.

“Just nerves then, I assume?”

“Wait — I’m sorry?”

If Nadya had to wonder where any sense of ‘cool and calm’ she might have had went she’s found it here, all soaked up in (probably) Italian loafers. “Just a second ago,” his hands slide into his pockets, “you looked… well I thought you were about to faint.”

Oh. “Right—yeah—nerves,” and he didn’t ask but she rambles when she’s like this so really it’s his fault for starting a conversation, “I’m actually here for a job interview. My first big gig since moving to the city, you know?”

The man nods appraisingly. “I remember the feeling well. But this office is the same as any other on Wall Street, I assure you.”

Yeah, that’s Nadya’s problem.

“I’ve never worked in a place like this. Ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever ever.”

“Ah,” when he nods not even a hair comes out of place, “‘Ever ever,’ that’s a pretty big deal.”

“The roof over my head literally depends on it, so…” And normally Nadya would take one look at a guy like this and say without a shadow of a doubt that he’s probably never had to worry about that sort of thing. But there’s something about him — something different than the earlier strangeness, but something nonetheless — that tells her he might just take her by surprise.

She really should be getting back to her seat.

But even with every relaxation technique in her arsenal this—right here—this is the best she’s felt about herself all day. So there’s no harm in staying an extra minute or two, right?

The man laughs unprompted and Nadya casts him a curious look. He seems almost bashful about it.

“You just reminded me of my first job, is all.”

“Let me guess — right in this very office but, hm… intern? No, you look more like the humble mail room type.”

His look turns appraising. “Do I really?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“If you have to ask that then perhaps not.” Yet their teasing is as well-meaning as it is spontaneous; enough for him to actually continue, “Actually my first job — well, first paying job that is — was a cobbler. You know, for shoes.”

Oh, Nadya knows. Yeah, in fact she has a funny story pretty similar having to do with a frazzled third-grade substitute teacher and a Bunsen burner. Since it had been, after all, a unit on Colonial America.

But that’s a level of sass they probably haven’t risen to just yet. She just nods instead.

“It was a small business, well—it was a small town. My father knew the owner and one thing led to another. I was pretty nervous on my first day too.”

He’s just trying to help, Nadya reminds herself. However strange and probably untrue his story may be, there’s no denying his sincerity. Just a successful man talking to a not-even-secretary trying to show a little empathy. Frankly Nadya isn’t sure she wouldn’t be doing the same thing were the roles reversed.

That’s just what kind people did for others. The world would be a better place if everyone was like that.

The cart barista doesn’t even get the chance to put down the drink fully when he’s reaching for it. Some people just need their java — Nadya can totally relate. But she swears the Suit winks at the girl. Though it could definitely just be a trick of the light.

Nadya’s all prepared for the “this was nice but we’ll never cross paths again” sort of goodbye when he returns.

Instead he throws her for a loop and places his cup at one of the two little silver tables that serve as the cart’s cafe. He pulls out a chair with a smile her way — is that supposed to be meant for her?

He catches onto her surprise quickly. “I hope you don’t think me too forward. I was just enjoying our chat and thought… why leave it there?”

Uhm, because you’re a man with a salary high enough to look the way you do? “Oh — I mean its… that’s really sweet of you but I should be…” she throws a look in the direction of the conference room, “getting back. Being late for the interview doesn’t seem like the best impression to make.”

The man laughs; some joke Nadya isn’t privy to. “If that’s all you’re worried about — don’t be. She actually gets a kick out of drilling people in there.”

Her resolve crumples at his hopeful smile. “And I’ll vouch for you.” Oh look she’s already sitting down.

“Well if we’re actually doing this, how about a name?” She tries to look at his cup but can’t quite catch it. If she didn’t know any better Nadya would say he actually turned it away while taking a sip.

“My name is Adrian. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Nadya.”

“Same to you, Adrian.”

Nadya discovers very quickly that this isn’t just about enjoying a chat. Judging by the looks they get — though Nadya could easily be chopped liver — and the curt nods here and there, it’s obvious Adrian is pretty important. He’s just using her to play hooky.

Which only earns him points in her book.

So does the way he props his elbow on the tabletop to rest his chin on an open palm. “So I have to ask you, Nadya, if I may of course.”

“Ask away.”

“If you’ve never ever worked in a corporate setting before — why now? This isn’t the kind of job one finds in the Classifieds.”

A fair question. She laughs softly. “Is it bad if I say I don’t really know? Oh god, it probably is.”

“I wouldn’t say bad, but the hiring interviewer will probably ask something along the same lines.”

“You’ve… got a good point there. Okay,” she makes a little show of sitting up straighter and pushing her glasses all the way up until she knows there’s little red dots between her eyes; Adrian’s smile is totally worth it.

“So the salary’s good but I’m sure you know a little bit about that.”

He chuckles. “A little bit, yes.”

“And threat-of-eviction aside; I caught the listing on one of those random alumni emails from my college. You know — the ones where they make it out like they’re trying to help you succeed but they’re really used to find grads with the biggest paychecks to hound them for donations.

“It definitely wasn’t my first choice. I don’t think I have to tell you that I’m pretty out of my element.” She pauses when Adrian’s brow creases just the smallest bit.

“What would you say is your element then?”

“That’s just it. I’ve got absolutely no clue. I figured I could do the basic job okay — I actually enjoy putting schedules and things together and the rest — all the business-y parts — I hoped I could just kinda pick up along the way. Do I think this is going to be my calling? No idea, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t put all my effort into the work.

“But you can’t find something without trying, you know? I trust my gut and… figure I’ll know what I’m looking for when I see it.”

Because Nadya had done herself the disservice of not trusting her gut when she first moved out here. Get a part-time job or two to pay the bills and loans, she figured, and just keep looking for that perfect one.

Yeah. That had gone over well.

Interview after interview — all with the same depressing result: the cheery false-apology letter and some variation of “we thank you for your interest but we will be continuing to pursue other candidates.”

Adrian is polite and attentive the whole time, too. Even when she gets to the unnecessary descriptions of Lily’s cheer-up dinners. Nadya knows she has a tendency to ramble when she’s nervous — but every time she apologizes he smiles and shakes his head; tells her “no apologies necessary, please go on,” and sometimes follows up with a thoughtful question or consideration that could only come from someone actually genuinely taking part in the conversation.

He’s kind. She’s surprised to find that in a place like this but he is. And before long Nadya finds herself wondering why she was ever nervous at all. Too bad he isn’t the one interviewing, she thinks, I might actually have a chance.

“That’s…” Adrian leans back in his seat with a forced exhale, “that’s quite a story.”

She knows where this always goes. “I knew it; way too much sharing. I was hoping to try and put a positive spin on it — for the position, I mean. Answering phones, scheduling meetings, that kind of stuff. I’m sor—”

“Nadya, please don’t apologize again. You don’t need to.” Then he reaches over and has a hand over hers and he’s cold, like weirdly as cold as the atrium itself, or maybe she’s just too darn flush from embarrassing herself. “Never apologize for the things that make you you. And give yourself a bit of credit, while you’re at it. I’ve lived and worked here for a long time and I’ve seen a lot of people settle for less. Even people like yourself.”

“English majors who have no business in Business?”

“People who don’t quite know what they want out of life. You’re young, Nadya —” which is rich coming from him, he can’t be more than thirty, “— you don’t have to have it all planned out right this second. You’ll miss out on too much if you try.”

Adrian’s words leave her speechless. She makes a mental note to let him know just how rare that is later on. Not just because he could be an awesome life coach but because there’s no doubt in Nadya’s mind that he means every single word.

No, Adrian can’t be more than thirty. But when she fixes her glasses and looks him in the eyes he looks like he’s a hundred years old. Wistful and wanting and wise all at the same time. Nadya’s left feeling so small and so very very young when he takes his hand back.

Nadya tries to recover her composure behind the last bit of her latte but is left wanting; nothing but soy gone cold and somehow tasting of the bottom of the paper cup. He watches her thoughtfully all the while; even when she gestures to his empty cup and gets a nod in thanks when she drops them both in the nearest recycling bin.

She hasn’t even sat back down when Adrian abruptly asks; “May I see your resume?” And there’s no reason why not so she reaches down—

And remembers with absolute horror that her resume is on the clipboard. at her seat. in her spot in line. back where the interviews are.

“Son of a biscuit.” Well, there’s no use in rushing over there now. Even the cart barista has left for the evening long since arrived. Nadya looks around and takes in the practically empty lobby with a sinking pit in her stomach and a new story of failures to add to her list.

Somehow “I didn’t get the job because a really nice, sweet, very-much-employed guy made me miss my interview” probably isn’t going to go over well with the landlord.

But she isn’t the only victim — if it’s any consolation. It isn’t. Adrian looks around with a “huh,” of pleasant surprise and checks his watch. “Well Kamilah’s going to kill me,” because to him this is something worth joking about, apparently, “but what else is new.”

“I should go.” I need to go. But she just slumps a little deeper into her seat.

He looks at her sympathetic; good, he should feel bad, she wants to say but he doesn’t deserve that kind of spite. She shouldn’t have left the line.

“Could I ask just one more question before you go?”

Nadya can’t help but want to start asking her own questions. Ones like why is he asking all these questions, why does he care, does this mean she can still ask him to vouch for her; all that jazz. She doesn’t though.

“Why did you move to New York?”

From the look on his face Adrian can tell he’s caught her off guard. “I just mean — like I said, Nadya, I’ve lived here for a long time. Met all sorts of different people with all sorts of different lives and histories and reasons of their own. Sometimes I think I’ve heard just about every reason you can imagine.” But even though he tries to laugh it off he definitely meant it, and he’s definitely interested in the answer.

“And…” she splutters a bewildered laugh, “and what, you think I’ll have a new one?”

He shrugs. “Maybe not new, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be interesting.”

“It’s not some heart-wrenching story —”

“That’s okay.”

But he’s serious. It takes Nadya a minute to fully believe him but he is, and she does. Hope you didn’t get your hopes up too much.

“I was really scared when I graduated from college. School was… my whole life up until right then. And now people were expecting all these things from me and… and I’d never done any of them before. Suddenly I was facing the rest of my life and I was starting it terrified. But I still had to do it; scared or not.

“So I figured it wasn’t a bad idea to try and get all the things I was scared of out of the way then. It seems stupid now…”

“Not at all.” Nadya looks up when she realizes she’s been focused on her hands in her lap and Adrian’s looking at her like he’s breathless. It’s weird, not gonna lie a little bit of a confidence booster, but also… well, scary. In its own way.

“And I’ve got this really bad habit of being stubborn, even to myself, so I just… said go big or go home. No place I can think of bigger and scarier than New York.”

For a second she thinks he’s laughing at her for being such a terrible cliche. But… he’s not. It’s just a laugh. What else do you do when you’re happy?

“Are you still scared here?”

“Every day,” but Nadya shrugs it off; just like she has for months now, “and one day I won’t be. Dunno when, or how, but I won’t be. So I should probably stick it out until then.”

“I’d like to see that day.” You and me both.

But if he’s gonna sit there and be all charming and intellectual and weirdly invested in her personal life journey then she can too. “What about you,” Nadya asks with just a teensy bit of cheek; which has Adrian laughing again but now she’s into the joke so let her roll with it, “wait — lemme guess — all the cobbler jobs were taken so you figured a fancy tech corporation was the next best thing?”

“Actually,” somehow his one question has turned into… well into this but he’s nice and this building is nice and why not, Nadya? “That’s an interesting story. My father took me to the city when I was old enough to help with my share of the work, you see, and —”

“Adrian! Where the hell have you been all afternoon?”

Every clack of her heels is like an ice pick to the tiles — Nadya’s glad she’s not the only one who flinches at the sound. Or maybe it’s the shrillness of the voice the shoes must belong to. She knows that voice, actually—

Because her life is a living nightmare Nadya looks over Adrian’s shoulder to see the woman from the hiring interviews marching towards the pair of them; face flushed and a stack of clipboards in hand and oh god how awful would it be to ask to steal her resume back because printing them out at the library is such a chore?

Nadya shrinks in her seat and prays not to be recognized — but Adrian seems used to such outbursts. He throws Nadya a reassuring smile (which totally works, not that Scary Interviewer would give her a chance to thank him) before turning in his seat to greet her face to face.

“Nice to see you too, Nicole.”

Nicole gives a long-suffering sigh and ignores Nadya’s presence entirely. She’s totally cool with that. “That doesn’t answer my question. I finished with interviews over an hour ago — and what did I return to?”

“I don’t know. But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Three missed calls from Ahmanet, no signature on the Volenti files, and you still haven’t decided on which of the Red Site projects you want to endorse at next year’s conference. Which you should have decided a week ago.”

Adrian has the patience of a saint. Which comes as no surprise since he did just listen to Nadya’s ramblings for more than an hour for sure. He lets the woman get everything out of her system without even so much as a tick of the brow.

And has the dumb idea of gesturing to Nadya as a reply. “Nicole, have you met Nadya?”

She double-takes with the same concern she might give a leaf on the wind. “Miss Sayeed wants to move the meeting to her offices for the inconvenience.”

“Nadya was one of the applicants from earlier today.”

Okay — that works. Not that Nicole looks at her, now fully even in disdain, with anything remotely close to respect. She sweeps her eyes over Nadya; held frozen by the spite in her steely stare.

“I remember you. The Walk Out.”

Is it hot in here or is she losing her nerve? “Well — actually I —”

Nicole cuts her off. “You walked out, did you not?”

“I went to grab a coffee.”

“Oh, well that changes things.”

“Wait—really?” Dumb move.

“Of course it doesn’t.”

Adrian clears his throat politely for their attention. “Nicole — I’m sorry for setting your schedule back.” She nods, though it doesn’t seem much like she’s accepted the apology. “I’ll worry about Kamilah, and the other things won’t take me more than an hour. I do have one favor to ask.”

It occurs to Nadya then that Nicole, who very much wants to say no—that’s obvious, can’t. Which is just weird since she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who does favors for anyone.

“Yes, Mister Raines?”

Forget tomato red. All of the color drains out of Nadya’s face at once. And the reassuring smile Adrian tries to offer doesn’t do a darn thing.

Mister Who-Now?

“If you could go ahead and cancel tomorrow’s interviews I’d appreciate it. Tell them that particular position has been filled but they’re free to reapply for something similar under one of the division heads, maybe?”

“Why in the world would I —” If looks could kill Nicole would most certainly have sent her six feet under. “No.” Though this time Nadya has to agree. Probably the only thing they would agree on ever in the history of all time.

“No way.”

But Adrian just beams. “I just came down here to stretch my legs and grab a coffee. I had planned on sticking my head in for one or two of your interviews, Nicole, but —”

“We agreed it was best I handle filling the position, sir.” She grinds the word out but, to her credit, Nicole’s face is never less than cool and collected. “You haven’t seen her resume, you have no idea if she’s even qualified.”

“You’re half right,” he replies, “but I’m sure if she didn’t have some idea of what the secretary position requires she wouldn’t have even made it to the interviews, right? The rest of it, all that ‘business-y stuff’ I’m sure she can pick up along the way.”

Oh that’s not cool. Not cool at all. Playing Undercover Boss and then using her own words against her? Wait — why isn’t it cool? Why isn’t she jumping for joy and already trying to convince Lily not to spend money they don’t yet have on pizza?

Maybe because it feels a little underhanded? By some random luck she ends up talking with Adrian Raines, CEO of Raines Corp over coffee and suddenly she gets the job over a bunch of way more qualified people?

But this is what she wanted. It’s the job. So why…

Oh.

Nadya’s here for the interview but she knows there are people who want this job and have the experience to boot. Nadya’s trying to refuse the job she needs because that would mean something went right, and things going right never ends well.

She’s scared.

The loudness of Nicole’s departure startles Nadya out of her self-realization. She glances up and Adrian is still sitting there, albeit a little more humble than he looked just a moment ago. He has the decency to seem apologetic.

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself fully.”

“Why didn’t you?” Now it’s Nadya’s turn for questions.

Adrian shrugs. “These days Nicole is the only person who’s ever really honest with me here. Imagine her trying to hold back her opinion on something.”

“I can’t.”

“Exactly. But everyone else, even my own employees, they aren’t. Not entirely. I’ll admit, Nadya, when you didn’t know who I was, I saw a chance to allow myself a little sincerity. To be genuine with someone.”

Joke’s on you, she thinks wryly, I would have been this much of a mess anyway.

Still; it doesn’t sit right with her. “But don’t you realize that because you did that you weren’t sincere with me?” And how could she work for someone who wasn’t honest with her? Who didn’t allow her that basic decency?

“I do now. And I understand if that keeps you from accepting the job. I didn’t sit down with you to interview you in secret, though, please know that.” And because he knows her question before she even opens her mouth; “You were on your own, nervous, and I wanted to help — if I could. I was telling the truth when I said you reminded me of myself.

“I say that because I think, if you were in my position, maybe you would have done the same thing.”

I wouldn’t have lied, though it’s a bitter thought — and was lying by omission technically lying? Especially if it’s for everyone’s greater good?

Man her head hurts.

“Nadya…?”

She inhales with all of her might and nods. “One more question.” Which makes him smile — he appreciates the symmetry of it.

“Go ahead.”

“What made you decide to offer the job to me?”

There’s a little bit of pride in Nadya when he doesn’t have an answer right away. Adrian takes his time and really seems to mull it over — or if he’s doing it for show he’s extremely convincing.

“I didn’t know what I was looking for until I saw it.”

Nadya can’t not roll her eyes. She can’t not smile though, either.

Finally Adrian stands and nods towards the sleek elevators at the far end of the lobby. “Should we go ahead and get the paperwork started? I can show you your desk, we’ll set up your number in the system — all quick things, really.”

It’s awfully assumptive of him, but she is standing and grabbing her purse so… is it?

“Bold of you to assume I’ve accepted the job, Mister Raines.”

“Please, call me Adrian.”

#bloodbound fanfiction #bloodbound #adrian raines #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: drabble #; my fics

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overanalyseverything · 7 years

Text

Where Is Thomas Jefferson?

kinda rushed, not proofread. oh well. day one. @jamiltonweek

-------------

“Welcome back to CNN. Breaking news out of France: Gilbert Durand’s claim of being the reincarnation of the Marquis de Lafayette, American Revolutionary war hero, has been confirmed by the French Department of Reincarnated Peoples. He has asked to be referred to simply as Lafayette from here on forward. Rumors that Lafayette has teamed up with Friedrich Von Steuben to promote accurate depictions of LGBT history are surfacing, and a recent twitter post from Steuben seems to confirm them, though nothing is proven.

“The Steuben Initiative has been given extreme support from reincarnate Alexander Hamilton, formerly Alex Hernandez, after he revealed the he is bisexual. He claims to not have changed his sexual orientation from his original life. Other famous figures from history have been more hesitant to support Steuben, though the Initiative has been gaining steam of late.

“The list of household names from the American Revolution still unfound is dwindling, but the search for the remaining few people is as strong as the day it started. Washington, Adams, Franklin, Madison, and many of the more famous names have been found and confirmed. But one man still eludes the public, and he will be the topic of tonight’s special:

“Where Is Thomas Jefferson?”

---------------

“Name?” Thomas asks, a sharpie in one hand and a cup in another. The latino man at the counter smirks.

“You know who I am,” he says. Thomas stifles a sigh.

“I’m sorry sir, but I need your name,” he says, trying to sound as friendly as possible.

“My name is whatever your number is,” the customer says, flashing what he must think is a flirtatious look.

“Your name, sir. Please,” Thomas says through a gritted smile. The man rolls his eyes and stands up from where he was leaning on the counter.

“Hamilton,” he says. Thomas nods, scribbling the name down on the coffee cup.

“It’ll be ready in a few minutes,” he says, turning away to hand the cup to his coworker, Kyle. He can feel Hamilton’s eyes on his ass and he has to resist the urge to call him out on it. Kyle shoots him a sympathetic look as he brews Hamilton’s triple espresso. As Hamilton walks away to a table, Thomas lets out a breath.

He’d be annoyed if Hamilton’s flirting didn’t drive him so goddamned crazy.

Thomas just had to have chosen the one coffee shop in all of New York Hamilton liked better than any other to work in. Thomas wasn’t even supposed to be here, he was supposed to be a young, hot-shot lawyer rising the ranks at a blinding speed. Had he stayed in Virginia, he might have been just that. But Thomas couldn’t stay in Virginia, not if looking around at the rolling farmland made him feel as guilty as it did.

So to New York he went, only to find that no one wanted to hire a no-name Virginian law student. And here he was, a barista in the morning, a waiter in the afternoon and a bartender ar night. It was hell, but it had been fine until Hamilton walked back into his life. The universe couldn’t just let him atone for his crimes in peace, could it?

The bell signaling the door opening rang, and Thomas plastered a smile back on his face. He turned around to greet the new customer. “Hi, welcome to-”

“Laf!” Hamilton exclaims. The new customer- tall, dark skinned with hair pulled back in a bun- turns in the short man’s direction and beams.

“Mon petit lion,” he breathes. Hamilton rockets from his seat and throws his arms around Lafayette’s middle. The taller man stumbles back under the force of Hamilton’s hug, but keeps his feet. For a moment, both men simply stand in the middle of the cafe in a tight embrace.

“I’ve missed you,” Hamilton breathes. Lafayette chuckles.

“How did you recognize me?” Lafayette’s accent is much thinner this time around, Thomas notices, much easier to understand. Hamilton pulls back and grins up at the man.

“You’ve been on tv, you dolt. Come on, then. We gotta talk.” Hamilton grabs Lafayette by the wrist and tries to pull him back to the table Hamilton had chosen.

“I have to order, no?” Lafayette motions in Thomas’ direction. Thomas, the customer service smile still stretched across his face, suddenly feels a pang of fear. Hamilton huffs good naturedly, and lets Lafayette go. Lafayette rolls his eyes and turns back to Thomas.

“My apologies. My friend can be very excitable,” Lafayette says.

Oh I know, Thomas thinks. Out loud he says. “It’s alright sir. What can I get you today?” As Lafayette rambles off his order- something really complicated and full of caramel- Thomas tries to keep his head down as much as possible. Hamilton had never recognized him, thank god, but Lafayette was a different beast. Thomas had actually been friends with Lafayette. No matter that Thomas looked nothing like he used to.

Lafayette finishes his order and Thomas nearly forgets to ask him his name before automatically scribbling it down on the cup. Thomas stutters as he rushes the question, trying to cover for his mistake.

“Laf is fine,” Lafayette says. Thomas nods and writes the nickname down, shoving the cup in Kyle’s direction just as Kyle hands him Hamilton’s completed order.

“Hamilton,” Thomas calls out into the cafe.

“I’m right here,” Hamilton says, still standing right beside Lafayette. “You really think they’d start to remember regulars,” he grumbles to Laf in French. Thomas grits his jaw, his knowledge of languages having survived the reincarnation. Lafayette sighs and says something back, but Thomas doesn’t want to hear.

Once a stuck up shit, always a stuck up shit, Thomas thinks to himself, but it’s not completely without a fondness to it. Hamilton takes his drink from Thomas. Like always, Hamilton lets his hand brush Thomas’ and Thomas jerks his hand away like he’s been burned. Hamilton rolls his eyes and takes a drink, lips wrapping around the straw. Thomas swallows and turns away, fumbling around with one of the blenders like he’s actually working and not drowning in his own emotions.

“Come on, Laf,” Hamilton says. “Sit while they make your shit.” This time, Lafayette lets himself get led away, but not before shooting an apologetic look in Thomas direction. Thomas watches them go, Hamilton already rambling about something.

Thomas watches their conversation out of the corner of his eye, Lafayette looks excited, overjoyed to be reunited with his old friend. A ball of sadness lodges in Thomas’ stomach. Laf probably hates me now, he thinks. Everyone would. So he tries not to get caught sneaking glances at two of the most important men from his last life.

When he calls for Lafayette, the Frenchman comes up to the counter with the same easy grace he always had. When Thomas hands him his drink, he give Thomas a little knowing smile. Thomas stomach plummets, but Lafayette doesn’t say anything, just skips away back to Hamilton.

Thomas glances at the clock, ten minutes until he’s off. He breathes a sigh of relief and busies himself cleaning the countertop until the phone in his pocket buzzes. Silently cheering, Thomas runs in the back and drops off his apron. He collects his stuff quickly, tearing his poof of hair out of the hat and shaking it out. He leaves the back room just as his replacement comes in and Thomas waves goodbye to her and Kyle both.

Bag slung over one shoulder, Thomas speedwalks through the cafe, trying not look over at-

“Hey! Wait a moment!” Lafayette calls and Thomas stumbles over his own feet. He bites his lip, eyeing the front door. He doesn’t have to go over there, he really doesn’t. He can leave, no problem. “Please, just come over for a second, yes?”

It’s Lafayette, Thomas’ brain says, and Thomas sighs. He changes course, coming over to stand by the two men’s table. “If you want something, I’m off the clock,” Thomas informs them, frowning. Lafayette shakes his head.

“Alexander has something to ask you,” he purrs, looking at Hamilton with both eyebrows raised. Hamilton coughs and shifts in his seat. Thomas looks at him curiously, wanting to be anywhere but here. He catches himself staring at the man’s eyes and tries to look anywhere else.

“I uh, wanted to know,” Hamilton takes a breath, “wou-why are you such a dick?” He says, words rushing to cover up something else. Thomas starts, feeling his face arrange itself in a familiar wall of disgust. Lafayette jerks, surprise flooding his features. Hamilton keeps talking, words flooding out of his mouth like they always did. “I mean, I know you recognize me every day. I get it if you don’t like me, but why?”

“You don’t impress me,” Thomas replies, the first reason that pops to his head that won’t immediately out him. Hamilton’s brows furrow, then a look of understanding crosses his face.

“Ah, you’re one of those, are you?”

“One of who?” Thomas asks.

Hamilton scoffs. “‘It doesn’t matter who you were,’’ he mocks. “‘It only matters who you are.’ One of those people. Full of bullshit.”

“Mon ami,” Lafayette says, voice full of warning and concern. Hamilton rolls his eyes.

“You know it’s bullshit. People who say that are just jealous they never managed to do anything with their last lives.”

Lafayette’s lips purse. “Well, I’m sure his last life was perfectly good. I’m sure you were wonderful,” he says, looking up at Thomas hopefully. Thomas levels him with a glare.

“I was a slave plantation owner,” he says. Lafayette blinks, Hamilton chokes on his coffee.

“Jesus,” the shorter man coughs. “That’s not usually something people just admit.” Hamilton looks at Thomas with wide eyes. Thomas sighs.

“Yes, well, it’s true and normally gets people to shut up and leave me alone,” he says pointedly. Lafayette looks ashamed, and looks down at the table. Hamilton’s jaw grinds, and it looks like he’s about to say something, but Thomas takes this as his cue to get the hell out of there. He spins on one heel and takes off, heading for the door. He hears them start to mutter to each other in French.

“A slave owner, Laf,” Hamilton sighs.

“Well, he seems pretty repentant…” Laf trails. “It’s okay, my friend. You’ll win him in the end. You always managed to get everyone in the end.”

“Everybody but one.”

Thomas doesn’t hear anything else, just listens to his own footsteps as he starts the multi-block journey to his second job.

------------

“You have got to be kidding me,” Thomas mutters, catching a glimpse of the group that just walked in the door. Hamilton approaches the hostess, but Thomas is too far away to hear what he’s saying. He watches, holding his breath, as Jenna pulls out three menus and leads Hamilton, Lafayette and the new addition to their group through the restaurant.

Of course she seats them right in the middle of Thomas’ tables. Just fuck me, Thomas thinks. God strike me down now. Lilly passes him with a tray of drinks and he tries to get her to take the Hamilton table, but she’s full up and Thomas has nothing to trade. So he putters about, trying to delay the inevitable. But time is passing and Hamilton is starting to look a little antsy, so Thomas bites the bullet.

“Hi, welcome to Lewis and Clark’s, my name is Thomas and I’ll be your server for today.” The usual greeting comes out in a rush. Thomas fiddles with his pen and tries not to make eye-contact. Maybe they won’t recognize him. Maybe-

“Well, look at this. It’s the unimpressed barisa!” Hamilton exclaims. Thomas stifles a groan.

“Can I get you started with some drinks?” He asks, just wanting it to be over. Out of all the cosmic punishments Thomas deserves, this is not one of them.

“Lemme introduce you to James Madison,” Hamilton says, jerking his head at the third person at the table. Thomas blinks, looking up but having to hold back his excitement. It is James alright, the new James that’s still sickly and quiet looking. Hamilton chuckles at Thomas’ expression. “Impressed yet?”

Thomas fights to keep his face neutral, but being this close to Jemmy is making it difficult. James looks at him like he’s a complete stranger, which is fair, Thomas supposes, but it hurts. Instead, he clears his throat.

“Would you like something to drink? Or perhaps you’re ready to order?” He says tersely.

“James Madison, you know,” Hamilton drawls. “Fourth President of these United States? Wrote the Constitution?” Thomas breathes through his smile, just about ready to reach over and tear Hamilton’s face off.

“Let it go, Hamilton,” James breaks in, his voice just as quiet and stoic as Thomas remembers. “We’re here to discuss things.”

Hamilton frowns at him “But-”

“If you spend the entire time messing with our poor waiter, we won’t get anything done,” James says. Hamilton grumbles something and settles into his seat. Lafayette just gives Thomas another apologetic looks as they order drinks.

Thomas practically jogs away from their table, and wastes as much time as possible doing the rounds to his other tables. When he finally runs out of things to do, he drags his feet getting their sodas and bringing them to the three. As he gets closer, he can hear their conversation.

“...only wish we could find Thomas,” James sighs. Thomas swallows, feeling his chest tighten.

“Your drinks, sirs,” he says, handing Lafayette a cherry cola. He nods his thanks as Hamilton scoffs.

“Jefferson? What makes you think he’d support the Initiative?” He asks. “Of all people.”

“Yes, Hamilton.” James nods. “I don’t know about Lafayette, but I remember certain interesting conversations with Thomas.” Laf nods as Hamilton’s eyes go wide.

“Jefferson?” He asks. James nods again. Thomas tries not to glare at him as he puts down the last drink, his hands starting to shake. Lafayette looks at him in concern, but Thomas busies himself by pulling out his notepad again.

“He’d support the Initiative.”

“What if he wants to ‘protect his reputation?’”

“Thomas Jefferson has no reputation to protect, his current one people respect is based on half-truths and he should be remembered for the lying, hypocritical slave-owning cheating bastard he was.” Thomas clicks his pen, the men at the table gone silent and looking at him in shock. “Can I take your order?”

Thomas watches all three of them process what he just said. Lafayette looks like he can’t quite believe what he just heard, James looks mildly upset, but Hamilton is pissed. His face turns a familiar bright red and he scowls.

“How fucking dare you?” Hamilton spits. Thomas cocks one eyebrow, as if urging Hamilton to argue, but he’s honestly curious as to why Hamilton looks this angry. “Thomas Jefferson was one of the smartest men I ever knew.”

“Just because he was smart doesn’t mean he was a decent person,” Thomas counters. “What would you like for lunch?” Hamilton hits the table, causing the cups and silverware to rattle slightly.

“Look, Jefferson might have had some backwards ideas, owned slaves and been a general obstructionist bastard-” ah, there’s the truth, Hamilton, Thomas thinks, “-but he was also a great writer and debater and really wanted the best for his country so you can fuck off.”

Hamilton is on the verge of hyperventilating in anger, and Thomas can’t quite believe what he’s just heard. Hamilton, complimenting him? They look at each other in silence, each seemingly daring the other to speak again.

“I’ll take the reuben,” James says. Thomas breaks his staring contest with Hamilton to smile and nod. He scratches James’ order down and Lafayette follows, ordering for Hamilton when the shorter man won’t speak.

The rest of Thomas’ shift passes quietly, Hamilton glaring whenever Thomas draws near and Thomas never staying long enough to start up an argument. But something in him wants to, wants to have one last full-blown debate with Hamilton, just one last time. Like the old days, back before Thomas got a second life and realized what a piece of shit he’d been the first time around.

Hamilton doesn’t tip, but James leaves him enough to cover for it.

-------------

Thomas takes over for the last bartender, throwing a rag over his shoulder and getting into the right mindset to do his job. No more mulling over Hamilton or Laf or James. Just make some drunk people some more drinks and get out of here. Thomas manages to lose himself in the mixing of countless cocktails and pouring of beer. Some guy rambles to him about his ex-girlfriend, and Thomas pretends to care, but just lets the guy talk.

Thomas has made it halfway through his shift when he looks up and sees George Washington walk in. It’s not unusual, Washington likes this bar enough to come in regularly enough. Thomas actually doesn’t mind. He likes talking to Washington, the old general is one of the few reincarnates that doesn’t make everything about his old life.

Thomas smile falls as he watches James, Laf and Hamilton file in behind Washington. Washington leads the group over to the bar and Thomas turns around to compose himself. He lets out a breath. Today just doesn’t end, does it? He makes Washington his usual and turns around just in time to meet him.

“Thanks, Thomas,” Washington says, taking the glass of whiskey. “Get these boys whatever they like and put it on my bill.” Thomas nods, and looks down the line. When he gets to Hamilton, he scowl and look of sheer anger catches Thomas a little off guard.

“Are you serious?” Hamilton hisses. Thomas nods, shooting him a little smile. Washington looks at Hamilton questioningly, and James looks like he’s already developing a headache.

“This is the asshole who insulted Jefferson, sir!” Hamilton exclaims, pointing at Thomas. Washington looks back at Thomas, who shrugs.

“I simply spoke my mind about the man.” Thomas looks at Hamilton dead on. “Now, I’m only going to ask you once this time. What would you like to drink?” Hamilton looks like he’s about to burst into another rant, but just spits a request for a bottle of Sam Adams. The four men settle onto bar stools and get to talking. Thomas tries not to listen, but he’s too curious.

The conversation turns to Steuben’s Institute again: Madison, Laf and Hamilton all begging Washington to throw his support behind it. Washington is simply listening in silence. All three men argue the same points, and it’s starting to grate on Thomas’ nerves. It almost sounds like an old cabinet meeting, but there’s no opposing viewpoint, no debate being had.

I can rectify that, Thomas thinks, and his mouth is already working before he can talk himself out of it.

“With all due respect,” he begins, “the Steuben Initiative is nothing but a way to get a few individuals recognized for being a ‘minority’ during a time when no one but straight white men were in power. It’s a cheap gimmick to get sympathy for people who shouldn’t have any.” Thomas continues to wipe down the counter, but he sees all four heads snap in his direction. “Furthermore, Friedrich Von Steuben is a known liar and historically bad with money. The Initiative will be bankrupt within a month.”

“You sure talk a big game for someone who works three minimum wage jobs,” Hamilton fires back. “Steuben is a hero and a symbol for the gay community. If there is any person who should be the face of it, it’s him. The only other names- Achilles, Sappho, Alexander the Great, Oscar Wilde- have either died a second time or haven’t been reborn yet. And the Initiative is not a ‘cheap gimmick.’ Historical figures who were not cisgender or heterosexual but would have been shamed at the time of their life or lives deserve the recognition!”

“Deserve the recognition now that it's socially acceptable to be out, and not actually when it would have perhaps done something good for the gay community.” Thomas doesn't believe a goddamned word he's saying but oh, he's having fun. He can feel the familiar feeling of adrenaline thrumming in his veins. And Hamilton, Hamilton, he looks gorgeous like his. Riled up and passionate.

“It would do wonders for the gay community! Having proof that people have always been something other than straight and cis is amazing! Imagine being a gay youth and being able to look in a history book and point out people like you that actually did something with their lives.”

“Imagine doing that for the African American community, or the Asian American community, or any other minority group in this country!”

“Oh, so because we’re not focused on racial minorities, we shouldn't get anything? We aren't just focused on white historical figures. POC LGBT people are just as represented. You'd know that if you actually knew anything about the Initiative. As it stands, you're a minimum wage worker who doesn't know what he's talking about. And the racial minorities argument is even funnier coming from an ex-slave owner.”

Thomas stops, his hand freezing on the counter where he was halfway through making Lafayette a refill. He looks up at Hamilton. “I'll let you know I have a law degree from UVA. And I actually support the Initiative, how could I not? I'm just doing my job, Hamilton. What I've always done: argue with you.” The words fall out before Thomas realizes what he's saying. Hamilton’s face falls into one of confusion.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He asks. Thomas swallows.

“Nothing,” he mutters. “Forget I said anything.” Thomas finished Laf’s drink and goes to walk to the other end of the bar. Hamilton lunges over the counter and grabs a hold of Thomas.

“Alex, what are you doing!” Laf exclaims. Hamilton grits his jaw and ignores him.

“What do you mean, ‘what you've always done?’” He repeats, asking the question through gritted teeth. Thomas kicks himself, realizing that he's gone and ruined everything.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “Let go of me, okay? It doesn't matter.” He tries to tug his hand free but Hamilton holds on. His eyes are searching Thomas’ face, and the sight of them sends pangs of longing through Thomas. Then, Hamilton’s eyes go wide in understanding.

“A slave owner who ‘always fought with me,” he breathes. Thomas winces, shutting his eyes and waiting for it. “Thomas Jefferson,” Hamilton says.

“What?” James asks.

“Thomas motherfucking Jefferson!” Hamilton exclaims, something akin to joy in his voice. “You everloving asshole!”

“Yes, yes, be proud of yourself Hamilton. Let go of my arm, would you?” Thomas grumbles. Finally Hamilton complies, and instantly Thomas misses the physical connection.

“Thomas?” Lafayette asks, as if he still doesn't quite believe it. Reluctantly, Thomas nods. Laf’s face lights up, a grin spreading across his face.

“I can't believe you never said anything! I've been going to that cafe for months!” Hamilton bounces in his seat, and Thomas can't help but find it endearing.

“You've been flirting with me for months too,” Thomas reminds him. Instantly Hamilton's expression of happiness falls, only to be replaced with embarrassment and anger.

“I've been flirting with Thomas Jefferson,” he mutters, dumbstruck and seemingly disgusted. Lafayette breaks out into laughter. Washington looks slightly amused, glancing between the two of them with an odd look.

James coughs. “Thomas, if it's really you,” he says, “explain what you meant by what you said about yourself at the restaurant.”

Thomas freezes, and suddenly the mood turns more somber. Lafayette stops laughing and all four sets of eyes are on Thomas. “I…” he hesitates, “I realized that I was a piece of human garbage last time I was alive,” he says simply. Hamilton stares at him, eyes bugging out of his head. Thomas suddenly feels uncomfortable. “Well, it was great seeing you four,” he says. “I'm going to tell my boss I’m ill and go home. Then, I'm going to quit my three jobs and move far far away from all of you.”

Hamilton blinks. “What? Why?!”

Thomas sighs, throwing the towel in his hands under the counter. “I've been avoiding the spotlight for twenty six years. I'm not coming forward and associating with any of you is not going to help me stay under the radar.”

“You? Avoiding attention?” Hamilton looks completely dumbstruck. Thomas nods.

“I told you, I was horrible. I don't want to be celebrated, not when people forget about the awful shit I did. So why don't you just let me live my life in peace?”

With that, Thomas slides out from behind the bar and walks back into the kitchen. He makes up some lie for his manager about being ill and clocks out. His manager takes his spot behind the bar, and Thomas slips out the back door. He doesn’t want to risk walking through the bar proper. Who knows what Hamilton will do.

Thomas walks out into the night air and heads around the building. A plan is already forming in his head. Call tomorrow off, apartment hunt… in Boston. Boston, or maybe somewhere out west. Yeah, I’ll go out west. Thomas leaves the sidewalk by the bar and starts to cross the parking lot. He just needs to get out of here-

“Thomas! Wait!” Hamilton calls from somewhere behind him. Thomas groans and picks up the pace, power walking away from the shorter man. He hears footsteps approaching from behind and Thomas nearly breaks out into a jog. “Thomas, just hold on a moment.”

“Go away Alexander,” Thomas mutters. He’s almost to the other side of the lot now.

“No, Thomas. We need to talk.”

“About what?” Thomas whirls on him, startling Hamilton who is almost too close to stop in time. He jumps backwards to avoid hitting Thomas straight on.

“About… about you!” Hamilton exclaims. Thomas raises one eyebrow.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Hamilton. I don’t want to have anything to do with you or myself, thanks.” Thomas takes a few steps backwards, hoping Hamilton won’t follow, that he’ll let Thomas go on his merry way.

“Look, Thomas, we need you.” Hamilton does follow, jogging slightly to keep up with Thomas’ long stride. He’s just as short as always. “Think about it! All the major founding fathers supporting one cause! We’ve already got Monroe and-”

“I don’t want to tell the world I’m the hypocritical fuck known as Thomas Jefferson.”

Hamilton huffs. “We all did shitty things. We do sitty things. We’re fucking human. You want a good example of a piece of shit, you’ve got one right here!” Hamilton motions up and down his body. “You do remember the Pamphlet, yeah?”

Thomas stops, feeling his fists clench at his sides. “That was my fault,” he admits. Hamilton shakes his head.

“It’s far from your fault. You didn’t make me cheat on Betsy and you didn’t make me publish the damn thing.”

“If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in myself, I wouldn’t have pushed you that far!” Thomas protests. Hamilton makes an exasperated noise.

“We were all wrapped up in ourselves,” Hamilton points out. “Everyone but Washington, seems like.”

For a second, they just stand there, looking at one another. Thomas sighs, and shakes his head. “Hamilton, I said no.”

“But-”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Thomas goes to turn around, but remembers one last thing. “Tell James ‘thanks’ for outing me by the way. Really appreciate that,” he mutters. And then he takes off again, stepping up the curb and onto the sidewalk. He doesn’t hear Hamilton chase him, and he thinks he’s in the clear. He turns to make his way down the street and catches a glimpse of Hamilton standing in the middle of the lot by himself. He’s looking at his fists, glaring at them like he’s trying to convince himself to punch himself in the face. Then he looks up.

“One last thing!” He calls. Thomas stops, lets out a breath, and turns to face the man.

“What, Hamilton?” He calls back. Hamilton opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again as he takes off across the parking lot. There’s determination in every quick step he takes to Thomas.

“If you’re really going to leave, and I’m never going to see you again,” Hamilton begins, “there’s just one thing I need to do first.”

Thomas feels his brow furrowing, confusion spreading across his face. Hamilton just power walks as quickly as possible, right up into Thomas’ personal space. Before Thomas can step back or ask Hamilton what this is about, Hamilton grabs Thomas’ face in both hands, pops up on his toes, and kisses him.

Thomas’ eyes widen before sliding shut as he leans into it. Hamilton gasps underneath him and Thomas slides his hand into Hamilton’s smooth hair and finally, finally, gets the chance to do what he’s been wanting to do for a very long time. They stand there, together, on the street corner, breaking apart only for quick breaths.

“You everloving asshole,” Hamilton breathes when they finally run out of steam. They sit there, faces still so impossibly close. Thomas chuckles.

“Never thought that would ever happen,” Thomas admits. Hamilton falls back onto the flats of his feet and wraps his arms around Thomas.

“You were the one person I never had, but I wanted you the most,” Hamilton says, and Thomas’ breath catches in his throat. Slowly, as if in a dream, Thomas returns the hug. “Stay?” Hamilton asks, looking up at Thomas. “Just for a while. I… I won’t make you tell anyone who you are.”

Thomas looks down at Hamilton, the one man he had always said no to, and says yes.

Hamilton’s eyes light up and Thomas’ heart leaps at the sight. He leans down for another kiss, only to be interrupted by a cough. Both Thomas and Hamilton look up to find Lafayette, Madison and Washington standing in the lot.

“You were taking a very long time. We were…” Laf trails, eyes shining in wicked joy. “Worried something had happened.”

“Something certainly did happen, I’d say,” James interjects. Thomas chuckles but catches sight of Washington’s stony expression. Instantly, he freezes. Washington blinks, and then breaks out into a smile.

“It took you boys two hundred years. I’m not saying anything.”

Hamilton blinks, then starts to laugh, his shoulders shake in Thomas’ arms and Thomas squeezes tighter.

Thomas Jefferson was found in a bar parking lot, holding Alexander Hamilton in his arms.

#day one #Jamilton week #mentions of slavery #self-hatred #really rushed and not great sorry

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