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kyotakumrau · 3 years

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2021.02.16 1st talk session of Meguro Rock-May-KanGIG at Zepp Yokohama

Zepp Yokohama is a such a nice venue, I really hope we will get to see dir play there live properly!

The concert recorded at Meguro RockMayKan was great! The setlist surprised me quite a lot (especially encore!!!)! And I think that was the smallest stage I ever saw dir on!😆 the footage definitely deserves a separate entry and I don't want to spoil anyone if they go to next events.

After the concert film screening staff quickly prepared the stage, bringing two long tables and four chairs, they also placed a water bottle at each seat.

Punctually (thank you for not repeating Nagoya's situation😆), at 3:30 Fujieda came on stage and started with greeting everyone, and asking us to greet the band members with applause.

After a moment of uncertainty (even as my heart was almost set it will be Kyo) Die came on stage with Kyo after him.٩( ˆoˆ )۶

They both looked super classy. Die had a dark grey suit with a long jacket, his usual award winning hair and wore sunglasses.

Kyo had a black jacket (with a round Chanel pin) and shirt, green hair, he wore glasses (not sunglasses).

When they sat (Kyo stood in front of the chair first until Fujieda gestured them to sit) F asked them to introduce themselves.

D: ども、Dieです

K: 京です

...and then F announced 'today is Kyo's birthday!' and a birthday song melody began to play😆

Kyo turned on his murder face glaring at Fujieda who happily observed 'oh what's this song?'😂

The soft Happy Birthday melody got then a guitar joining in and Takabayashi came on the stage carrying a small strawberry shortcake (with a chocolate message おめでとう京さん) which of course he placed in front of Kyo.

We couldn't sing but we clapped.

Kyo snatched a strawberry and popped it in his mouth. He gestured 'throat slashing' looking at Fujieda😂

And then ate another strawberry🍓😂

F: the song was made by Die.

K: (only interested in the cake) Could I get a fork?

(staff went to get him one)

F: how do you feel? (about your own birthday)

K: I don't care.

The fork arrived and Kyo literally dug in right in the middle, scooping a huge piece he put whole in his mouth.

Fujieda wisely left Kyo to his cake then and started talking about RMK footage. Die said they had hard time deciding on a tour or events like this in COVID situation. They also mentioned the secret show in 2009 was held in RMK.

Next Die talked about how nice it was to rehearse and play together with the band, first time since March, he was happy about the show, creating sound together as 5 people.

F: did you finish eating K?

K: yup

(there was last 🍓 left (out of 4 big ones), he ate about 25~35%?)

F: then tell us about recording the RockMayKan show!

K: the place was very narrow.

F: anything else?

K: Not really.

But then he added more, that as it has been a while it felt like the first day of the tour.

F: was there anything that was difficult? Was a struggle?

K: when recording I can do it at my own pace, I can do one song when I want, but that day it was back to performing over 10 songs all at once, it was tough, hard on my throat, energy/stamina wise.

But at the same time it was exciting, meet with other members, play music together, that was nice.

F: 2019 was filled with shows, it was busy, then things changed. So after a break to see an audience again got me nervous, in a good way.

Next F said had would like to talk about the release of Oboro.

D: what do you want to know?

F: so the song is not out yet, any hints?

D: it's gonna stay a secret for a bit more.

F: the 2nd track is TDFF？

D: (interesting letters ???didn't catch exactly) it's a powerful song.

F: how is Oboro for you Kyo?

K: quite fresh/refreshing

F: really?!

D: especially the video

...but then Kyo just burst with a whole speech how Fujieda always ask something and when he gets an aswer he didn't expect he doesn't react well, just says what he wants, is not listening to what Kyo says and... it went for a while😆

Next F moved to the topic of the merchandise and asked the band members which items they like.

K: the big badge, before the big pick was huge, shouldn't the badge be like this size (showing about 20cm with his hands). It bothered me from when I saw it. Isn't it just normal?

in the end they agreed it's just 'a bit big' 😂

F: how about for you, D?

D: the rubber key chains?

F: they got sold out very quickly, sorry to fans about that.

D: they are cute. And I like the wristbands too. The color combinations are nice.

T: the badge has the old band's logo, it brings me back

D talked about old times when artists made stickers like that, with logos, to put on their equipment, they worked a bit like business cards, he said he still have some at home.

T picked the rechargeable heat pack.

K: so it's to be used instead of heat packs? (ホッカイロ)

F: uh, it's already warm.

D: huh? Show me? (F passed it to him) it's like a phone that gets hot when charging.

Next they moved on to fans questions. ("~~" is a question from fans they read)

K (unusually picks the first question super fast): "what's your favourite cake?"

K: Well, the strawberry shortcake is good, but this one doesn't have strawberries inside, just some jam, it should have strawberries inside too.

(F so dead😂😂😂)

F: "what's your best or bad memory connected to birthdays?"

K: at a concert somewhere, it was quite long time ago, I got a present all wrapped and in a bag from a silver accessories brand I liked, so nicely wrapped, I opened it and it was empty, isn't that really strange? I looked at the attached letter and it said the person is keeping the item for themselves. It annoyed me so much, the worst bd memory ever.

☹️

F: how about you D?

D: it's not exactly bad memory, but many band members have birthdays in February, in the past when we were still giving each other presents Toshiya and I had to think what to get for 3 people, it was always tough. We stopped that at some point.

T: "any memory/story about China Town?"

D: I like China Town

T: do you go often?

D: sometimes. But only to my favorite restaurants. (?? Talked more about the stadium?)

T: do you usually order the same thing?

D: Mabodofu, the spicy version

(then I think he said something like there's no point in overdoing spicyness, it's not healthy??)

K: I don't know which restaurants are good so I get annoyed. I don't know what decides it's a good one or not.

F: I don't go, but I'd like to.

then they talked about the types of Chinese food and food they tried when in other Asian countries.

K: when we were touring in the US I ordered Chinese abd it was terrible, it was all bad. The egg soup was all clumpy, so bad.

D: "any stories about RockMayKan?"

D: honestly I don't have good memories with this venue, when with a previous band we played together with more senior bands and they took over the dressing room, we couldn't use it, and we also had to greet all senpai musicians.

K: remember when Shinya sat on the lockers? Like on top of the 170cm lockers?

D: was it in Nagoya?

K: he's done his make up there, like a cat or something

D: Shinya climbed a locker and made a space for himself there

K: He's not exactly human. Normally you would not even consider climbing a locker...

D: we usually did our make up on the stairs, didn't use changing room. When we played at RMK as dir for the first time I saw 'this is the changing room!'

He also talked about how the hair spray used by all the bandomen would stink up the whole place 😂

F: "what do you usually wear to sleep?"

K: just underwear. Doesn't matter if it's summer or winter I want to feel the towel like fabric, I use towel cloth for my bedding, I want my whole body to feel it so there's no point in wearing pajamas.

D: at home...wait you mean my home or my family house? At my parents' I always wear the pajama my mum got me, currently the Mickey Mouse one. I only have that one there.

K( with sudden interest): can you draw it?

D: it's about this big, quite big print. The one I wear at home, it wasn't sent by my mum.

K: not Mickey one??

D: that's Nightmare Before Christmas.

K: Disney theme?

D: this one has a face in the front.

K: do you change characters (for pajamas) every year?

D: this year it's Nightmare.

Next was something they wanted to say to F. K chose to comment on his haircut, because it's asymmetric K is bothered that it will end as an uzumaki in the back. They talked more about F's style.

F: "I'd like you to tell us about your costumes you wore for RMK show".

D: I wanted something motovating so red colour.

K: I had no special reasoning, just what I wanted to wear then.

D: "have you gotten any food delivery?"

He said he only got it once or not much, I think he said he's not fond of shops that don't do it properly, but when recording it's good???

F: Shinya said he orders Uber almost everyday.

K: I only got Uber once.

F: what did you get?

K: Burger King. I quit McDonalds. After eating Burger King I can't go back to McDonalds.

They talked about sizes of burger here?? Whooper versus Junior Whooper?

F: So McD is not good?

K: the meat taste is different. McDonald now tastes like trash.

F: what about the Mc fries, when they get a bit soft.

K: not only a bit. Gross.

D: in the US we usually also have some American staff, when we had some time and we went to eat out, it was funny, American staff went for sushi, Shinya went for McDonalds.

F: was it last time?

D: no, quite some time ago.

F: when did you eat McDonalds the last time?

D: I also don't eat it, it's been some time already.

They talked more about the food, some restaurants D liked in the US (didn't catch the name🙃 but in Sacramento?), then F talked more about event schedule and the time was over.

Last comments from the band members:

Die: From today the new series of film screening starts, thank you for coming to the first day. So well... the band is working on the new album while coming to the events at the same time, we're working on creating a great album. Please come amd enjoy the events.

Kyo: I don't have a special thing to say. Many of you will be coming to few or many events and will end up with many t-shirts, you can do whatever with them, even use them as a doormat, there are many ways to use them, no problem for the whole year.

#dir en grey #kyo #京 #die #目黒鹿鳴館gig #爆音会 #attempt at live report

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gothpanda · 4 years

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A Little Bit of Attitude Ch.29: Goodbye

WORD COUNT: 6.0K

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

WARNINGS: angst at its lowest

TAGS: @madamsixx @emariehorror

Read On Ao3

Previous/Next

May 20th, 1986

Sitting under an outdoor umbrella table in a small corner coffee shop that opened 6 months ago, Sammi stared out into the distance with wrinkles of irritability deepening on her face. She slowly twirled a spoon in her coffee that clanked against the white ceramic mug every so often that would annoy anyone. Her mind wandered as it always did, thinking of the list of tasks needed to be done and other lists of tasks wanting to do. It felt like a never-ending wave of chores Sammi had started, begging why she did this to herself.

"Sammi," Sammi continued to stare out into the distance, pursing her lips out and squinting into nothing. "Sammi!" Emma shouted, shaking Sammi's hand gently to break her out of the daze she was in. Sammi snapped her head to Emma, blinking rapidly, looking like a deer in the headlights. Emma chuckled at Sammi, surprised how fast Sammi was able to daydream when she was alone. "I got you a chocolate chip muffin. They didn't have the coffee cake one that you like," Emma said, catching a tip of whip cream from her iced latte and taking a joyful lick. Sammi shook her head, sipping her coffee that had been spun around multiple times.

"Where's S?" Sammi asked, picking a piece of her muffin.

"Right here, I ran into a guy I had a class with. I forgot how cute he was," Sabrina said, tucking her skirt underneath her legs as she sat down beside Sammi. Sabrina could see the quiet expression on Sammi's cheeks, noticing her pecking at her sweetbread. Sabrina and Emma exchanged a knowing look at one another as they carried out their usual manners. Emma sipping on her iced beverage while Sabrina tore a piece of her croissant. "So what's got you daydreaming?" Emma asked Sammi, Sabrina raising a quizzical eyebrow to her left.

Sammi scrunched her brows together, glancing between the two friends. "I wasn't daydreaming, I was thinking. There's a difference,"

"Okay then what's got you thinking so silently, you forgot where you were for a second? It's amazing how fast you're able to do that," Sabrina teased, smirking at Sammi, drinking cappuccino.

"What I need to do before next week. If I need to finish anything right before I leave. If there's anything I want to do before leaving. If I need to stop thinking at high speed for once in my life," Sammi said, pulling out a pack of Camels from her silver purse and bringing one to her lips. She lit the cigarette, blowing out the smoke away from her friends, Emma stealing one for herself. Sabrina shifted away from any smoke that hit her face. Emma purposely let out a puff of smoke to Sabrina, giggling at the sour expression.

"You wouldn't need to be thinking so much if you just stayed down here," Emma said.

"Why did you have to accept a school all the way in San Francisco? How else am I going to get second-hand smoker lungs?" Sabrina asked with a small pout.

"You can blame Mr. Harrison's connections in convincing me to go to San Fran. Maybe do it on your last day at Elektra next week," Sammi teased. Sammi would be lying to everyone if she said she wasn't grateful for how the opportunity fell in her lap. Mr. Harrison was happy to help Samantha on her journey to a career path, knowing her endless potential.

"She may have also accepted because she needs a fresh new life far away from everyone in this place. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself," Emma said, pouting out in exaggeration.

"You're not wrong. It's good to have a fresh start every once in a while especially for school. You guys are lucky I'm staying in California. I could've gone all the way to Texas if I was that desperate. Or New York City," Sammi said, blowing out another drag of her cigarette.

"Thank god you're so considerate of others, but you still could've stayed here," Sabrina said with a smile that made Sammi's mood shift a bit. The girls stayed silent for a moment, basking in the quality time together before Sammi's final day in Los Angeles. In truth, Emma and Sabrina were happy Sammi was doing something for herself and only herself. Sammi didn't ask anyone if she should go back to school or where she should go. But of course, as all friends are, they would miss knowing Sammi was in the same city as them, and they could pop in. Their Friday night dinners will only consist of Emma and Sabrina from now on, Sammi only joining when she comes for a visit. They were beginning to grow up into full adults. It was scary but needed for everyone.

"If I'm being honest, I don't want to leave but I know it's the right thing. Now more than ever since my shit show," Sammi said, shrugging her shoulders in sadness.

"Hey, may I ask you something, Sam?" Emma asked, biting her lip with the look of worry that made Sammi worry.

"Sure?"

"Has 'you know who' tried calling you after the wedding?" Emma asked with hesitation. Sammi sighed as she shook her head, flicking the small dub to the street, then taking a sip of her coffee. "Is it weird if I say I feel bad for both of you? Just not seeing you two together right now is weird. It feels like my parents got divorced and I should know," Emma said, finishing her cigarette.

"No, it's not. I feel bad for myself so join the petty party. Sabrina? Want to join this party of two and make it three?" Sammi asked, resting her head against the palm of her hand. Sabrina slung an arm around Sammi, bringing her in for a side hug.

"You feel bad because we liked Nikki even if he was an asshole to others, he was nice with Sammi. Now he's doing something that's harming himself which affects people who care. It's different then most relationship dramas," Sabrina analyzed, taking a sip of her cappuccino.

"I wish it was because he's an asshole and move on with my life, but it's more complicated than that," pouted Sammi.

"Of course it is, it's Nikki. It's never easy with those guys," Emma tried to poke fun of, shrugging her shoulders. Sabrina shot Emma a glare like a mother, Emma mouthing a sorry to her.

"Am I dumb for still caring and wanting to work things out?" Sammi asked, looking down at her cup with a low head.

Emma cocked her head to one side, sympathy beginning to show more for her friend. "You're not dumb because you have a heart, Sam. It's natural to still care about an ex at times. I still wonder about Athena randomly at times and it's been months,"

"You'd still worry about Athena if she used hard drugs and got aggressive because of them?" Sammi asked with a hint of sarcasm. Emma shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what to say to make it positive. She didn't think this whole situation could be favorable.

"I'd like to think so. I'm not sure about working things out, but I'd like to know if she's being healthy. It's drugs, Sammi. Anyone with a heart would still care about the person. I'm surprised Nikki's able to hide it from people so well,"

"He's not. You just said it yourself. He's not around people with hearts that care, at least not sober people. He's a musician who created a successful band and can make money off of it. It's different," Sabrina explained, turning to see if Sammi was becoming sadder for this conversation. Sammi lifted her head up, squaring her shoulders straight, and smiled with confidence.

"It's whatever now. I'm happy. I really am. I'm getting to live in a new city. I've been here my whole life. Maybe I'll like San Francisco and want to live there permanently after I graduate. Two years is enough time to fall in love with a city," Sammi said in an attempt to lift the spirits of the table. Her friends didn't believe it but tried to join in.

"The selfish part of me says please don't but I know it's good. Hell, I came down here to leave Sacramento. It's only fair you do the same thing, Sammi," Sabrina said with a sad smile.

"So are you gonna have a going away party or disappear randomly one day?" Emma asked.

"No. No party. I don't want a going away party at all where people might start crying. But I do want to tell everyone goodbye alone. That way everyone gets a nice goodbye," said Sammi.

"Even Nikki?" asked Emma, raising an eyebrow. Sammi sighed out and took a sip of her coffee, thinking if she should tell Nikki. Sammi wasn't hiding from anyone about her move, telling almost everyone in their own times, except Nikki. Respectfully, she should speak Nikki about her plans and not cause a bigger mess than she'll ditch. Then again, Sammi wanted to act selfish and petty, focus on herself instead of a man.

"Yes, even Nikki. I still have some little things at his place that I should probably get," Sammi muttered.

"If you need us to go with you, we could. We'll wait outside while you say your goodbyes," Sabrina offered.

"Thanks but I need to be a big girl and do things on my own. Especially if I'm going to be alone in a new city," Sammi said, sighing out into the warm, clear sky.

May 29th, 1986

Sammi had a list of people she wanted to personally say goodbye to with their own time. The first person Sammi had on her list was Vince, to her own surprise thinking Vince would be the last person on the planet to give farewells. Sammi walked up to the white modern beach mansion, the place she called a second home for a few months. The doorbell rang out, Sammi shifting her weight from one foot to another, looking away into the neighborhood as she waited. It was early in the morning; Sammi hoped Vince decided to be an early bird this summer season. When the grand finally opened, Sammi smiled right away, Vince holding Skylar right on his hip. Vince smiled back at Sammi, puzzled for a moment before remembering what day it was.

"Hey, Vin. Hi, Skylar," Sammi said, waving her two fingers to the small child, winning a happy smile from Skylar. Vince stepped aside to let Sammi in with a low head, Skylar moving around in his arms to be set free. Once she was on the ground, Skylar waddled her best to Sammi, hugging her leg. Skylar smiled up at Sammi, two little teeth showing. "Aww she still likes me," Sammi said, picking Skylar up and resting her on her hip. Vince grew a smile at the two girls, folding his arms across his chest. Sammi bounced Skylar on her hip, earning giggles from the young baby, Vince admiring more at the two.

"I couldn't imagine someone not liking you,' Vince said, slowly stepping towards Sammi. "It's the end of the month. I didn't think it would come so fast," Vince fixed a piece of Skylar's hair from her face as she played with the shiny rings Sammi wore. Vince sucked the front of his teeth, stuffing his hands in the back of his jean pockets. "Please don't tell me you came all the way out here to say goodbye,"

Sammi smiled with sadness, shrugging her shoulders. "It was going to happen at some point, Vince. Thought I wasn't gonna say goodbye to you?"

"No. I was kind of hoping you had changed your mind and didn't want to leave this beautiful city," Vince said, walking the girls to the living room. As the three sat down on the white sofa, Sammi let Skylar crawl off to the floor to find a toy to play with. "Maybe you rejected San Francisco and went to school here. Where your family is. And all your friends. Where people who care about you are,"

Sammi sighed out, pushing locks of hair away from her face, looking down at Skylar. "Vince, I need this. I want to get out of here and see other places that aren't from a tour bus. Besides I promised myself I'd go back after a year of working, I need to follow that,"

Vince sighed out, slumping further into the sofa. "I'm going to miss you, you know. It's going to be weird not having you around,"

"I'm not dying, Vin!" Sammi smiled at Vince.

"I know you're not dying! But let's face it I doubt you'll come visit when you have free time. You'll probably only come for the holidays then leave again. San Francisco is pretty far away if you haven't figured it out," Vince teased, poking Sammi on the shoulder. Sammi gazed down at her hands, realization beginning to creep up on her.

"You're right. I probably won't have enough free time to just drop everything and come down," Sammi uttered, fidgeting with her nails unkempt.

"Doesn't mean that we can't though," Vince said with a small smile.

Sammi turned her head to see the smile, raising an eyebrow that matched Vince's expression. "You'd come up to visit me?"

"Yeah just to make sure you're not dead," Vince said, chuckling as Sammi shoved his shoulder playfully.

"I'm going to miss you too. Promise you'll do a good job taking care of this little one?" Sammi asked, picking Skylar to sit her between the two of them. Skylar laid down between the two, slowly closing her eyes for her nap. Vince rubbed Skylar's cheek with the back of his hand, smiling down at his daughter. Vince then gave a similar smile to Sammi.

"I promise. Promise you'll try to visit on your own?"

"I promise," Sammi said, holding out her pinky.

Instead, Vince stood up in front of Sammi with arms open wide, hoping she'd accept the hug. Sammi stood up with warm eyes and a smile and wrapped her arms around Vince's waist, feeling him hold her in a warm embrace. Vince kisses the crown on Sammi's head, reminding himself to respect the girl's boundaries. "I'm proud of you, Sam. And I'm sorry for everything," Vince mumbled into Sammi's hair. Sammi shut her eyes tight, staying in the embrace for what felt like forever. A feeling of tightness beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. Sammi wasn't enjoying this feeling by any means.

Mick was surprised to hear his doorbell ring out in his home, placing his guitar flat down on the sofa. Mick rarely had guests pop in on him, liking his home's secluded area to relax before the chaos of music erupted again. When he opened the door, his firm, confused, an irritating glare that Mick always had melted away as a smiling Sammi stood at his steps. Mick raised an eyebrow, opening the door wider. "What's up, little girl? Here for a visit?" Mick asked.

"More like a goodbye. I'm leaving tomorrow remember?" Sammi said, stepping into the cozy home. Mick groaned out, closing the door shut and led Sammi to the kitchen. Sammi looked around the complete house, getting after herself for not visiting Mick here more often. She felt bad that she came for goodbye and not a regular time to hang out. Sammi promised she'd spend time with Mick when she came down to visit.

"Oh I remember but I was betting you only said it because you were mad at Nikki. I didn't think you'd actually leave," said Mick, grabbing two bottles of cokes from the fridge, sliding one to Sammi on the kitchen island.

"Wow thanks, Mick. Am I really that dramatic to you?" Sammi asked sarcastically, sipping her drink. "It's not like I've wanted to avoid everyone before by disappearing," Sammi smiled at Mick, earning a chuckle from the older man.

"Are you doing your rounds with everybody or just me?" asked Mick.

"Everyone. I thought it would be swifter in one go to say bye and not cause too much of a scene," Sammi uttered, tapping her finger on the glass bottle. "I'm not really in the mood for tears,"

"So are you still mad at Nikki? Is that why you're leaving?," Mick asked.

"No, I'm not leaving because of him. It's entirely because of school and wanting new experiences," Sammi said, glaring at Mick.

"Are you still mad at him though?"

"I guess I am. He hasn't bothered calling me after Santa Barbra, and I haven't bothered calling him. I doubt he cares much about anyone but himself at this point," Sammi said sadly, Mick giving her a sympathetic smile. Mick could read Sammi's face clear as day, Nikki's topic being a sore spot for the young woman.

"Don't worry. I'll look after him while you're gone, it's the least I can do for the both of you," said Mick. Mick felt inclined to worry about Nikki or the others generally, due to being the oldest and least intoxicated from the bunch. With Sammi added to the mix, Mick felt even more inclined to keep an eye on Nikki and Tommy as these were her two boys. "I promise,"

"Thanks, Mick. Can you also promise me one other thing?" Mick nodded. "Please take care of your back. Take your medication and don't mix it with alcohol as much. And please go to your doctor's appointments and schedule them. Ask Doc to get you an assistant maybe to help,"

Mick lips parted in shock, scrunching his eyebrows together. He cleared his throat, tapping his fingers against the island gravel. Mick thought he was either hiding it exceptionally well or nobody who was around cared enough to ask. Clearly, he was proven wrong. "You could tell?"

Sammi nodded. "I don't know what you have exactly, but I know something's up and you need to take care of yourself. It's important to keep up with your health especially when you go out and perform,"

"It's Ankylosing spondylitis with a bit of forming scoliosis. I got diagnosed when I was around your age," Mick said dryly, having a small bit of happiness to know someone could see. "I thought I was doing a good job at acting normal,"

"Mick, I was always able to see something was up. I just didn't know how to bring it up with you," Sammi said.

"Well after you come back, I'll come to you when I need new meds or a new doctor," Mick said, chuckling a small bit.

Sammi smiled at Mick, reaching over to place her hand over his. "I'd be happy to help with that," Sammi said, gently squeezing Mick's hand. Mick didn't want to say it out loud, but he was going to miss the little girl as much as everyone else. It hurt him thinking Sammi wanted to get away from everything, be pushed over the edge by Nikki. Mick wanted to shake some sense into Nikki, hoping the bass player would come back to the light but knew it would never work. Mick only hoped things didn't blow up too much after this.

"I know I don't do a whole lot of talking, but I am going to miss you, little girl," Mick said, looking away from Sammi and sipping his soda.

"I'll miss you too, Mick," Sammi said, smiling sadly at Mick. The two didn't hug, knowing it was a rarity, and Sammi did not like the feeling of hugs today. Instead, they stayed in silence as they finished their sodas in the kitchen, Mick wanting to give Sammi a quiet space to think.

"Please, don't leave me! I beg you!" Tommy yelled in the air, embracing Sammi in a tight hug. Sammi was smothered in Tommy's chest, not hugging him back as the siblings stood in the newlyweds home's living room. As soon as Sammi rang the doorbell, Tommy ran out of the house to hug his sister, dragging Sammi in for Heather to see her. Tommy didn't want to let go of his baby sister, not wanting her to leave ever. She tried to pull away from her brother, only to be hugged tighter. Heather smiled at the two as she sat on the expensive sofa, finding Tommy's desperation of Sammi's departure amusing. Sammi finally had enough strength to push Tommy off her, gasping for air and dropping herself down next to Heather. Tommy pouted down at Sammi, falling right between the two girls.

"Babe, be happy for your sister. You should be proud Sammi's going back to school for pharmacy. It's a big deal," Heather told Tommy, running her fingers through his hair. Tommy still continued to pout, being another who wished to be selfish for a happy occasion. Heather had to be the positive one from the two, reminding of the accompaniment. Sammi poked Tommy's puffy cheeks, giggling when he reacted annoyed, hiding his face in Heather's neck. Heather rolled her eyes, patting Tommy on the head to soothe him.

"Yeah, Tommy, be proud of me. Remember I'm the normal sibling. I need to go to college and get a regular job unlike some people," Sammi said, smiling at Tommy.

"Sammi needs to spread her wings and fly. Experience new places!" Heather said to Tommy.

"I'll pay for your apartment and school if you stay here," Tommy said, lifting his head up. His hair covered his eyes, making Heather and Sammi laugh at Tommy.

"We were going to do that anyway, babe," Heather said, fluttering her lashes to her husband and smiling mischievously at her sister in law. Slowly squaring her shoulder with scrunched eyebrows, Sammi shifted her eyes at the couple in confusion. She couldn't register what Heather just said as if it was a regular thing. Tommy slowly began smiling at his sister, Heather, unable to contain her excitement any longer.

"What? What do you mean you're going to pay for my stuff? I have everything covered," Sammi asked with wide eyes. Tommy sat up straight, grabbing Heather's hand like Mr. and Mrs. Bass when they had to announce something to their children. It was any other circumstance, Sammi would laugh along with the two but not today.

"Heather and I were talking about you going back to school and how you're going to be stressed with studying. San Francisco is way more expensive than L.A is so we wanted to help out," Tommy said.

"It's the least we can do. You shouldn't be stressed about money and only think about your studies. It's going to be hard doing all of that alone and in a new city," Heather said.

"Yeah but I have school covered. I have scholarships and I was going to get a job on campus," said Sammi. "I saved up a lot this past year for my apartment up there,"

"We know that, Sammi. We know you've always been independent with everything since you moved out of Mama and Dad's house. But you deserve a little help for once after always being there for everyone. Consider this as a thank you," said Tommy.

"Plus if we're being honest, we don't have to think about how much stuff costs, so we're fine paying for your expenses. You wouldn't have to worry about paying us back a penny," Heather reassured Tommy, nodding along.

"How exactly would this work?" Sammi asked, still hesitant about the offer.

"Basically like a monthly allowance to cover rent, bills, and your own spending money. And for school, it's by semester so you can just call us with the bill! It's that simple!" Tommy said, clapping his hands together as if this was a typical case in their lives. Sammi scratched the side of her head, contemplating if this was a good idea, looking at Heather and Tommy's convincing faces. The couple didn't feel entitled to do something nice for Sammi; they wanted to do this from their hearts. Tommy wasn't happy about Sammi leaving, feeling this was her new method of running away. In the eyes of the Bass family, this news came out of nowhere, only having three weeks to say goodbye. Heather tried to sway Tommy's worries away with no luck, the stubborn man believing in his theory. "Just say yes, Sam. It's a perfect plan," Tommy begged, turning on his sweet puppy dog eyes.

Sammi sighed out as they twisted her arm to agree. "Alright I accept your guys offered to help. I really appreciate it," Sammi said, smiling at the couple. Tommy and Heather jumped out of their spots to engulf Sammi in another hug, feeling as if this is the most she's ever been hugged in one day. Sammi let out a yell in protest, shimming away from Heather and Tommy but with no luck.

"You're going to be great up there," Heather said to Sammi, pulling away slightly. Sammi only smiled, beginning to feel the knot in her stomach again. It was only 3 in the afternoon.

To Sammi's luck, Athena's apartment wasn't far from Tommy's home, making the drive short west. Sammi gripped tightly on the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white as she tried to calm her breathing. "You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine," Sammi whispered to herself, parking in front of a brand new apartment building. Walking up the front door steps, Sammi pressed the button that read Athena, waiting for her sister to answer the call.

"Hello?" Athena answered.

"It's Sammi. Let me in," Sammi shouted into the speaker. Athena didn't bother to give a response, buzzing Sammi into the building. Sammi walked up to flights of stairs, dragging her feet up at each step. It had been a short time since Sammi spoke to Athena, distracting herself with the excuse of packing. Athena paid no attention to this, knowing that she would go to her if Sammi needed to talk. Sammi gently knocked on the red wooden door, looking down at her feet as she could hear Athena's footsteps. When Athena opened her door, she smiled at Sammi with a reminder to be nice to her baby sister.

"Hey!" Athena said, stepping aside to let Sammi pass. Sammi played with her hands as she walked straight to the sofa, dropping her purse beside her. "Do you want anything to drink? Food?" Athena offered, walking over to the small kitchenette that connected to the living room. Sammi shook her head, eyes following Athena sit down on the accent sofa chair near her. She tucked her legs in, chin resting against her palm, ready to hear anything Sammi has to say. "Is everything going well? You're finished packing?" Athena asked.

Sammi nodded. "I had the last of my boxes shipped this morning. All I have in my apartment is a suitcase and a mattress on the floor. I can't believe I'm leaving,"

"Really? I thought it would be the other way around. Everyone not believing you until you were already gone, thinking you were just lying,"

"Why does everyone keep saying that?!" Sammi snapped, frowning at Athena. "You, Mick, Vince. Why do people think I was bluffing about leaving?"

Athena pressed her lips firmly together, knowing now was not the time for a fight. "It's not that we think you were bluffing. It's just no one wants you to leave so we're in a bit of denial. I'm proud of you for going back to school. I want you to know that,"

Sammi sighed out, leaning back against the sofa in lousy posture, folding her arms against her chest. "Thanks. I didn't think my leaving would make everyone so sad. I didn't think I was that special,"

Athena raised an eyebrow at Sammi. "You don't think you're so special everyone would be bored or sad without you? I know we fight a lot, but I would rather have you around all the time than none at all,"

Sammi smiled at Athena, emotions beginning to erupt, but Sammi knew how to withhold them. "I'm sorry for being a bitch so many times. I shouldn't have been so spitful when you said your opinion,"

"I'm the one who should apologize. I should've never been so harsh on you with Nikki. I should've listened instead of being mean, and I'm sorry you two broke up after the wedding," Athena said, giving Sammi a sympathetic smile.

"It's whatever now. He hasn't bothered with me and I'm not going to bother with him anymore," Sammi said, chipping away nail polish. Athena frowned at Sammi's sad tone, having a bit of doubt to Sammi's statement.

"Careful when you see Mama and Dad. They might ask about Nikki,"

"If they do I'll just lie. I wouldn't want them to worry about him or anything that they don't need to," said Sammi.

"You really did care about him, didn't you? You're still protecting him even now," Athena said.

"Yeah, I guess I did," Sammi mumbled. "It's whatever now. Maybe I'll find a regular guy in San Francisco who's a saint and never even looked at a drug,"

"Don't push yourself to meet someone. Take your time and focus on yourself. You're young and can have years to find someone else," Athena advised, studying Sammi faces to the best of her abilities. Athena was able to see the hesitation on Sammi's face, the small eleven wrinkles between her brows almost becoming permanent from thinking. The older sister didn't know if she should object Sammi from leaving but knew it was the right thing to do. As much as Athena herself hated the idea, she knew Sammi needed a breath of fresh air even if she was afraid of it. Athena didn't want to push to fright Sammi, only wishing to stand by her when needed. She felt guilty for her tantrums, realizing how selfish they all were. Athena walked over to Sammi's side of the sofa, wrapping her arms in a hug around the younger girls' shoulders. Sammi didn't hug back, only leaning her head on Athena's shoulder.

"I'm going to miss you," Sammi muttered under her breath.

"I'm going to miss you too, Sam," Athena whispered. The two staying in silence for a moment longer, Sammi forcing down any emotions.

Pulling up into the driveway of Mr. and Mrs. Bass tugged the heartstrings, Sammi turning off the ignition and shutting her eyes to let out a few calming breaths. She could see the light bleed out from the living room window, Mr. Bass's car parked right next to Sammi's impala. It was with heavy feet that made Sammi walk to the front door, trying to find her original house key. As Sammi pushed open the door, she could hear music playing to her right, seeing her parents dancing all around the living room. She quietly closed the door behind her, smiling happily at the couple as they were in their own little world, not noticing Sammi. It wasn't until Mr. Bass dipped Mrs. Bass that he noticed Sammi standing in the wide doorway, a broad smile growing on his lips. He twirled Mrs. Bass one last time, making her stop right to see Sammi.

"Oh, Lovebug! We've been waiting for you! Your food is ready!" Mrs. Bass exclaimed out, clapping her hands together. Mrs. Bass gave Sammi a warm quick hug before cascading her way down the hall. Mr. Bass smiled at Samm, giving her a kiss on the cheek before following Mrs. Bass to the dining table. Sammi didn't move at first. She stood frozen in the doorframe, folding her arms in front of her chest. Sammi walked at a slow pace, seeing a plate of spaghetti and meatballs waiting for her. Mr. and Mrs. Bass set down forks and glasses, pouring in freshly squeezed lemonade for their daughter. Sammi mustered up a smile as she sat down, noticing how happy her parents seemed to be for her last day. The three ate in relative silence, Sammi switching gazes at her parents every so often. "Are you excited for the drive tomorrow, lovebug?" Mrs. Bass asked, breaking the silence as she wiped her mouth from any food.

"Yeah, hopefully, I don't have to deal with so much traffic in the morning," Sammi said, placing a napkin on a half-empty plate. "I'll be taking off at 8,"

"The morning drives are always the best kind of drives," Mr. Bass said, taking a sip of his lemonade. "The sun is just beginning to rise. Picking up fast food breakfast with a nice hot coffee. It's the best," Mr. Bass smiled at himself at the memories of his youth.

"Actually dad, driving in the middle of the night is way better. It's so peaceful. I loved it when I was up late on the bus with the guys, and I'd look out the window to see the moon. It was always the best," Sammi said, pressing her lips together, leaving a bittersweet memory in her mind. "But not this time! It'll be fun getting to San Francisco on my own and getting to unpack,"

"Remember you have to call us once you get to your apartment so we know you're safe," Mrs. Bass said, grabbing the dirty dishes to leave them in the sink.

"Yes, Mama. I'll remember," Sammi said with a smile. "Do you guys have any last-minute parenting advice before I leave tomorrow?" Sammi asked, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. Mr. and Mrs. Bass looked at each other for a moment, pursing their lips as they thought of something.

"Don't get a ticket when you're parking the car somewhere. And if you, pay it right away or it can pile up," Mr. Bass said, pointing a strong finger at Sammi.

"I think Sammi meant words of wisdom for leaving," Mrs. Bass said, rolling her eyes playfully at her husband. "Lovebug, I know the feeling of moving away from your home. It's going to be scary and you'll question things almost every day, but this is something great for you. I want you to always remember that," Mrs. Bass said to Sammi, holding their hands together gingerly.

"And don't worry about being selfish. If you want to leave, you should leave and find a better way for yourself. The world is big enough to explore," Mr. Bass added to Mrs. Bass's advice, Sammi smiling both at her parents.

"Thanks, mama and dad. I really appreciate it," Sammi said, swallowing away more of the emotions that have been building up.

"We love you," Mrs. Bass said, kissing Sammi on the cheek.

"And don't forget it," Mr. Bass added, kissing Sammi on the crown of her head. "Do you want to watch some tv before you leave? It's still pretty early by the looks of my watch," Mr. Bass asked Sammi, glancing down at the brand new watch Tommy gifted on his wrist. Sammi only nodded to her father, seeing Mrs. Bass began to load the dishwasher as she slowly rose from her seat. Sammi followed her father down the hallway's short distance, Mr. Bass flipping channels on his recliner. She laid on the sofa, relaxing, enjoying the last few moments of this consistent bonding with her parents. Sammi bit on the nail of her thumb for a majority of the time shared, glancing at the clock on the fire mantel before it was time to go. After driving for a few miles in utter silence, Sammi finally let down the tears she withheld from the day. She then remembered one last person she wanted to say goodbye to, making her cry even more. Sammi parked the car off the side of the dark road, clenching onto the steering wheel as she hurled over, letting out a weeping cry. Sammi gasped for air as she continued to weep, hot tears crawling down her face.

"I'm sorry, Nikki," Sammi whispered to herself, breathing in heavily as she squared her shoulders in her seat. Sammi wiped away the stains on her cheeks, turning her car back on as she drove out into the night.

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raleigh-ocean · 4 years

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over my skin (where you left your own mark), part 3 | audrey tindall & dara ann lynch

words: 3,739

summary: series of drabbles about how Audrey got to know, one day at a time, little by little, one of the two women she wished to meet in every one of her lives. Part 3: when Audrey made Billie jealous; and also how Audrey started to act more like the advice giver than the receiver.

n/a: I strongly recommend reading ‘troubles of a learning heart’ before this one!

"I still can't wrap my head around how you manage to keep yourself in line," Audrey scratched her eyebrow a bit, looking at Billie in the kitchen from the couch. "It's beyond me, darling."

Billie's laughter sounded all over the apartment, lightening it up from its gloomy aura that autumn day. The medium had picked Audrey up from a meeting with her manager a few hours ago, bringing her over to the apartment just to spend time together since Dara was working a late shift in the shop. Audrey pouted again, resting her arms and chin better in the back of the couch so she could look at what was Billie doing in the kitchen.

Hoarding a plate full of brownies like some kind of gremlin was something very unlike of her, for anyone who knew the medium of the stars in like a street level basis, but she was doing it right now with like zero shame.

"My line of work has both perks and cons, I'm afraid," Audrey rolled her eyes hard upon noticing the tone in which Billie spoke, trying to sound a bit mighty with her mouth full of brownie. She swallowed, humming contently, and then shot Audrey the most perfect smile she could do. "But I think it's probably spinning twice a week what does the actual trick and-"

"Please, don't finish that sentence," warned Audrey, because she was like a million percent sure that Billie was going to say that sex helped her greatly as well. "I think you two have a problem at times."

"Do we now? Thought you enjoyed it as well, pumpkin," Billie laughed once again and Audrey felt herself blush to the root, cheeks and ears ablaze. It only got worse when the medium moaned a little upon munching on another brownie.

"Are they really that good?" Audrey felt necessary to change topic, coughing a bit, and trying to focus in the kettle that was over the stove. "Where did you buy them?"

"Nowhere, that's the best part," hummed Billie, retrieving cups from the cupboard and some milk from the fridge. "Dara bakes at times, she's really good at it, so I'm supplied of these delicious mortal chocolate bombs for a lifetime."

Audrey couldn't help but scratch her ear, feeling a bit out of place suddenly. There were many things about Billie's daily life that she was missing completely at times and those all were related to her actual girlfriend. Of course Audrey knew Dara was there, how not? A constant reminding her that she was actually the added one in the relationship, but hearing about those kind of simple tiny details wasn’t something she still got in her head easily.

It was weird, to be fair, because Dara could be eating her out one night but not get a wind of her in days if it wasn't because Billie mentioned her often...and that was as of now, in which Audrey thought their relationship was improving in someway. It all had going for the better after that morning in Audrey’s apartment, but they still had a long way ahead.

Audrey and Billie had been ‘together’ for a year and half as of now, while with Dara barely joined them half a year ago, so just imagine the whole thing.

"Well let me try them then," Audrey wanted to be courageous, trying something 'new' and having a new opportunity of interacting with Dara. She was pretty sure that complimenting her baking was another step to a good direction. "I don't have such a sweet tooth like you, but I'm willing to have my cheat day earlier if you say that they are so good."

Upon hearing that, Billie stopped her munching to look at Audrey, as if she grew another head all of a sudden, but she did walk towards her with the brownies' plate to let her have as many as she wanted. She wasn’t used to Audrey not being picky with everything she ate, so it was a surprise that she was indulging, a good one to be honest.

Until she heard Audrey’s moan.

It wasn’t something she didn’t heard before, but in that moment it was in a new light. One that made Billie’s stomach swirl and settle in a feeling she despised with her whole being, even if it was just a little.

“Well, so...where did you say Dara had her rings? I think I’ll give a jewelry downtown a call, because wow, if she’s down for it I’m marrying her right away,” Audrey’s laugh was soft after swallowing, trying to look at Billie. “How can she bake like some kind of God?”

From all the things that Audrey could expect, she didn’t expect to see such blank face in Billie. She was about to ask if there was something wrong but the next second Billie was taking the plate from her hands with a scowl on her face.

“Ha, ha, so funny,” Audrey was another million percent sure that Billie was about to pout at any second for some reason. “Find your own baker, miss Tindall.”

It only took Audrey what it took Billie to go back to the kitchen to actually know what was going on. And if she was being honest, it totally weirded her out that she managed to acknowledge that Billie was jealous.

Finishing the treat, Audrey left her friend room to clear her mind, just merely observing her going around the kitchen again to finish from fixing tea time. It also gave the actress time to think of some kind of action plan in case Billie was more annoyed than she thought.

The next minutes, almost next hour, Audrey didn't add much verbally but left Billie be the one carrying the conversation. Having her talking about everything and nothing made the actress feel more at ease in some way, but still be worried sick because Billie always got like that when there was something else in her mind. Doing things that made her avoid altogether what was bugging her so deeply, a classic at this point that Audrey was getting a bit annoyed by.

She neither stopped Billie or suggested following her when she announced that she was taking a shower, only indulging a bit on the kiss before watching her walk away. Without knowing what else to do, Audrey decided to take the videogame controller from the coffee table and maybe keep playing that game Dara showed her - and in which she got really invested - was a good idea.

Billie looked at herself in the mirror after getting out of the shower, feeling how her stomach churned uncomfortably.

Audrey didn’t deserve being the receiving end of all her frustrations, that was for sure, but the soft joke had hit her with an unexpected might.

Three weeks had already passed since their vacations in Sacramento, the topic of everything that happened there not showing up at all nor close to, and Billie saw each day how Dara seemed to get a bit more lost in herself. She always had some magic way to separate every aspect of her life, but many times Billie had had to snap her out of a way too deep rant about work - when Dara herself was the one that always reminding her that work things were left at work after the clock ticked. Or even a few days in which Dara seemed out of touch with what was happening at the moment, making her to drop and hit things out of the blue, or worse: getting herself injured - Billie shivered with how she still had an oil burn she got a few days ago or when she hit herself in the head with the window by accident or all the tiny bruises in her legs from bumping into things.

All of that didn't help at all neither with trying to manage her own past discomfort and try to do something for her.

Billie sighed deeply, getting in her pajamas quickly, to spend some minutes in silence in her bedroom. She looked through her messages, trying to see if she got any important but the only one she got was from her assistant reminding her of something about tomorrow schedule. Tapping in Dara's chat, she looked at the few texts they exchanged that day and wondered how busy her girl was, taking in count she didn't respond to her last one.

She really should stop from over worrying, Billie thought putting her phone down and rubbing her forehead a bit. Taking a peek to the living room, she saw how Audrey was really focused on the television, game controller tightly held in her hands and maybe a bit of a scowl.

Yeah, Audrey didn’t deserve her being mean for no reason.

If it wasn’t because Billie moved her legs to sit and leave them in her lap, Audrey wouldn’t have noticed her best friend coming back. The game was really fucking addicting, to be fair, and the music catchy which made a perfect combination to not think much.

She didn’t stop playing because Billie didn’t do or say something, so she only smiled at her sideways when the medium started to draw slow patterns in her legs with her thumbs. This was kind of a unexpected calm date, as far as Audrey could discern, but even when she kept playing the game she decided that she wanted Billie to speak her mind once and for all.

“Are you going to tell me whatever is burning your brain or are you going to just sit there brooding while I play?” she asked, thinking a bit the choices the game gave her.

It took Billie the incredible amount of ten minutes to finally answer, but she did it and Audrey felt herself to freeze on the spot.

“Do you think I am enough for Dara?” Audrey blinked, trying to discern if Billie really said that. “Sometimes I feel like I’m failing her, that she can do way more better than..me,” Billie rubbed her eyes a bit. “I don’t know Audrey, it’s weird, I feel bad.”

Pressing pause at the same time Billie sadly chuckled at admitting she was feeling bad because of those questions, Audrey looked at her in another light. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice before how Billie changed the moment she crossed the door of her home, but for someone she always saw so sure of herself...well, this was new and a bit scary.

“What made you think that, sweetheart?” she asked, taking one of Billie’s hands in hers, trying to run her thumb soothingly over her knuckles.

She wasn’t ready for the flood that was Billie’s thoughts and words for the next twenty or so minutes, that was for sure. Everything that truly happened in their vacation, from when they landed in Sacramento to the moment they woke up that very same day. It made Audrey feel how her heart broke in a few pieces, listening to how unsure Billie was of everything in that moment.

For a few seconds Audrey didn’t know what to say, how to give advice to Billie, and she wondered if her best friend was going to cry and let all that frustration out.

“You should have seen them Drey, they gravitate around each other and if he wasn’t with Dara’s sister, well,” Billie’s voice broke a bit and Audrey couldn’t help but bring her hand to her lips. That was Billie’s fatal flaw: the overthinking, it made her overlook many other details and go full beeline with everything and forgetting the rest. “So hearing you say that hit me like a fucking truck, you sure will swoop her off her feet and away easily.”

“I think Dara would slap the shit out of me if I ever suggest taking her away from you,” Audrey was really serious about that statement, looking at the controller with that unlike scenario in her head. “Did you hear her arguing with her sisters over the phone? Bloody hell, I bet she’s a feisty one.”

“Oh dear, she totally is,” hearing how Billie laughed for a bit was something good. “You should see them arguing face to face.”

“Next time Dahlia invite me over,” Audrey smiled with that, because after all, Dahlia still was her best friend and she was invited over a few times at some family gatherings. “But going back to the point...when Dara’s mom told you about them, did she tell you who left who?”

By the look in Billie’s eyes, her whole demeanor and obviously how she shook her head, Audrey knew Dara’s mother conveniently left that detail outside of the talk. She felt herself frown a bit and pulled Billie closer, kissing her temple tenderly, lingering softly to convey all that she couldn’t put in words. It was hard to give a good opinion, taking in count she only knew Billie’s side of the story, but she was about to do her best.

“Then you really should ask Dara about it, don’t you think?” Billie groaned at Audrey’s words. “Listen Billie, I know you two from not that long maybe, but I know how deeply you care for Dara and how much she loves you, how much you love her,” Audrey said those last words in a whisper because you should be blind to not see it yet at the same time she knew how much her best friend struggled with that point. “Do I think that sometimes you should be more forward with her, more vocal? Absolutely, but I don’t think you’re failing Dara. How long have you two been together, please do tell me.”

“Seven years.”

“Seven fucking years, you already surpassed anything she could have achieved with that guy and, as much I can see, you two are going forward,” how strange was to give her best friend and also her lover, for the time being, those words but she did it the same because it was what Billie needed to hear...or that she hoped. “Do you think Dara doesn’t know what’s best for her? If she decided you were that, the best for her, then why are you worrying? Wouldn’t she say something the second a doubt came to her head?”

Maybe Audrey shouldn’t have say that so promptly, because it made Billie to finally breakdown, but maybe she did have to say them to prompt that reaction. Let her go of those nasty feelings, she thought, because if Billie started to cry it was because it was needed. Billie wasn’t one to sob loudly - Audrey was that type of crybaby, being honest -, but her tiny whimpers were very heartbreaking. Audrey had to hold her own so Billie could take all the tears for herself.

She usually didn’t like to mingle with Billie and Dara’s relationship, mostly because she was the added one in this, but she had come to clash more with that side of Billie that Dara seemed to take and wrap with millions of bubble paper sheets so she didn’t explode. Maybe that was one of their main problems, as much as Audrey could have seen in the time they three together, but if it worked for them, who was she to snoop around? Only in times like those, which were pretty much rare, was that she suggested something to Billie or asked about.

Audrey thought sometimes Dara needed to be more forward as well with Billie, but this time it was Billie’s to take and do everything.

Letting Billie to cry to her heart content, Audrey tried to come up with something to tell Dara once she saw her girlfriend - again, Audrey refused to address both as anything different in her head, as much as she knew they never formalized their relationship - like that. She shivered a bit with the possibility of the other woman coming right in that moment, but it didn’t happen and for that she was grateful.

It wouldn’t be for another hour that Dara didn’t come home. Billie was fast asleep over Audrey’s chest while she decided to keep playing the game, not knowing what else she could do, when she overheard keys at the front door. The medium woke up in automatic, making Audrey to break her concentration and lose what she was doing, taking in count she was playing with the controller resting in Billie’s back.

“I think I’m sweating in places I’m not sure I should sweat,” Audrey saw Dara not looking at the living room, going for the kitchen immediately and a sleepy Billie trailing behind her like a lost puppy. “I hope you two are hungry, my cousin the super duper ultra chef gave me a recipe for a quiche that’s to die for and I’m going to cook the Hell out of that,” from her position in the couch, Audrey saw how Billie took the groceries bag from Dara’s arms and Dara thanked her a bit out of breath, her smile bright like the sun upon seeing how her partner was wrapping her arms around her middle after that. “How was the nap honey? Bet it was amazing, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

Audrey smiled to herself when Billie replied to that with a mumble she couldn’t hear, the kiss the blonde gave her girlfriend as sweet and slow that for a moment they both only existed in the tiny kitchen.

If only Billie could see what she could, any doubt in her head would be erased from eternity. Billie said Dara and her ex seemed to gravitate around each other? That’s why she couldn’t see how she gravitated around Dara. How the whole apartment, all this time somewhat gloom even for a mild summer day, seemed to come alive the moment the woman with the cane entered; how Billie herself was more relaxed and the tears were long forgotten the second Dara circled her neck to keep kissing like in those old black and white movies.

How Dara seemed to just have all her focus in Billie because, for her, nothing else mattered.

“I’m starving, Billie only gave me tea for afternoon snack,” chided Audrey, going back to the game to fix the mess Billie left her with.

“Only tea?” it took Dara five minutes to reply, Audrey didn’t have to turn around to see how they were making out. “Bills.”

“She was mean,” Billie mumbled and Audrey overheard the soft smack of a new kiss. “Only tea it was.”

“Is that so, my love?” Audrey wanted to throw Billie a shoe if she didn’t catch the raw emotion behind the pet name. “It’s okay, I’m here to protect you from the big meany, but I need you two on table duty while I get out of this before going all crusader on both dinner and avenging.”

When Dara was out of view, Audrey finally turned around to see Billie. Billie was also looking at her, cheeks a bit blushed but not regretting a single thing. Ah, there she was again, thought Audrey standing up and doing as she was told, since her best friend decided to take out first the ingredients for dinner from the bag. They bumped into each other like kids, bickering a bit just like that, but this time Audrey did not go for a kiss like always.

She felt like today Billie wanted and needed every ounce of affection from the woman that was now walking towards them slowly, pulling up her hair into a ponytail and smiling at her girlfriend with the force of a thousand suns.

Audrey didn’t add much after getting her task done, only sitting at the counter to watch Dara cook, Billie close to her as well and always touching her in some way. It also seemed that today she was going back home after dinner, she thought when Billie hugged Dara from behind and started kissing the back of her neck with care, tracing with her lips Dara’s tattoo just like that. She shook her head, giving Billie a teasing soft kick in her butt and Dara reminding both she was in front of a hot pan.

They needed each other too bad and Audrey simply didn’t have the heart to not let them.

So the best thing Audrey came up with was to go back to the game, for the third time in the day. She wasn’t of much use in the kitchen, anyway, so waiting in the couch didn’t sound half as bad and, if she was completely honest, she had discovered it was a nice spot for just observing.

A nice spot for watching two of the people she was so strongly attached to, which she loved in a way that not many could understand.

However she didn’t expect to overhear the private conversation the couple had while waiting for the ingredients to fry. It made her try to focus in the television, but it was of no use at this point.

“I’m sorry I’ve been acting weird these days,” the apology coming from Dara’s lips was not what Audrey expected to hear. “I know I’ve been worrying you, it’s just that...my head isn’t in a good place right now.”

“You don’t have to apologize Annie,” Billie sighed and Audrey was pretty sure she was hugging her tightly. “It’s not your fault or something.”

“Still, you don’t deserve be treated like this Bills,” Audrey tried to not be too loud pushing the buttons of the game controller. “I...look, you’re the most important thing I have, and I don’t want you to feel bad or something because I’m an asshole that can’t handle well her head.”

“I won’t let you call yourself an asshole, baby,” yeah, Billie, that’s it and a kiss to make it even more serious! “Not when you also aren’t feeling well...sometimes you don’t know how to handle your head, but maybe I can help with that...if you let me?”

Audrey couldn’t help herself, smiling as big as she could, when Dara seemed to agree partially with Billie’s proposal. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it was a start, and that was very much a big step for them. As if they were keep building that beautiful bridge between them, little by little, and learning from each other at the same time.

It made the quiche taste even better and all.

#audrey tindall & original character #audrey tindall #billie dean howard #dara ann lynch #billie dean howard x original character #audrey tindall x billie dean howard x original character #ahs roanoke #ahs murder house #american horror story #original character

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haddonfieldproject · 4 years

Text

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.2.9 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1st 5:13 AM

Warren County, Illinois

While that call did not succeed in waking up Kyndra and Zoey, the aforementioned Diego was woken up, however, by his co-worker Quinn, as he lay napping on a tattered sofa in the SuperFuel Deluxe's break room.

“Diego!”

Diego grunted.

“Diego, get up,” Quinn slapped him with a blue rag.

Diego sat up and rubbed his eye.

“Customers.” Quinn said.

Diego blinked awake. The TV was on. A man with fake looking blonde hair stood in front of a map coated with splotches of reds, oranges, and yellows.

“ Lightning strikes have been reported just about everywhere as this severe cell moves through Warren and Carpenter counties. Listen up if you are in the areas of Russelville, Haddonfield, Langdon, Tuckerville...you are under a Severe Thunderstorm Warning and Tornado Watch ‪until 7:45 am‬. Check out this picture someone posted on social media, that's softball sized hail folks...this reported by Zeke, a custodian working late ‪night tonight‬ at Smith's Grove High School, so be careful out there folks.”

Thunder struck and the lights in the shop momentarily dimmed. Customers, Diego thought, in this storm?

Diego stood up and stretched and then grabbed his Mountain Dew he had swiped from the coolers a few hours ago. Stepping into the shop, he sure enough saw some guy was talking to Quinn, standing next to an old-ass station wagon. The kind that had the wood panels on the side. The bottom was eaten away with rust. Diego was surprised the thing was even running at all, and one of the first things he noticed were the California plates. The lifeless remains of a tire lay snaked around a severely dented rim on the front passenger side. Must have hit a curb without even braking, he thought.

Quinn pulled a clipboard off the dark blue tool bench next to him and said, “We actually just had one of these die on us last week and it's back there in the yard. We can replace the tire and the rim and fix up those tie rods and struts in a jiff. You got really got lucky, because otherwise you'd be waiting at least two days for parts.”

The man's eyes grew wide, “Are you serious?! That's a miracle if I ever heard one.”

“I'll say,” Diego chimed in, “What year is this?”

“1989 Ford Country Squire” Jack Tate said proudly.

“Wow,” Diego laughed. “Quinn's right, we literally just got one of these in, the drive train fell apart in our hands, literally fell apart. But it was much more beat up than this.”

“You don't say!?” Jack put his hands on his hips.

“I couldn't help but recognize the California plates,” Diego motioned to the back of the car, dropping to one knee to examine the wheel well.

“Yep,” Jack said, rubbing his chin, “We're from a small town in Northern California, between San Jose and Sacramento. It's called Summer Glen.”

“Bet you don't get much snow there,” Diego said from under the car.

“Nope..but I bet you guys do.”

Diego appeared from under the lopsided tire with a smile, “Buckets,” he replied, “And it wreaks havoc on an undercarriage.”

“I bet it does” Jack replied.

Diego stood up and wiped his hands on his coveralls. “Well, not so much the snow,” he said, “it's the salt they salt the roads with. Eats the bottom of the car all up.”

“So what do you do?” Jack asked.

“Heated car wash,” Diego said, reaching out his hand to Quinn for the clipboard.

“I saw signs for those on the way in, all over the place up here,” Jack said, “But I saw signs but then it looked like empty parking lots.”

Quinn smiled and handed Diego the clipboard, “With steam coming up?”

“I didn't see any steam,” Jack replied.

“They're probably turned off right now.” Diego remarked, looking over the paper on the clipboard.

Quinn whistled, “Whew don't I know it. It's been hotter than a hippo with a hernia.”

“Hmmm,” Jack grunted in agreement, “Climate Change.”

Quinn hissed, “Hogwash! I don't believe that bullshit for a second.”

Jack quickly changed the subject, “Anyways—err--how do car washes help your car in the winter?”

Quinn nodded, “You drive over the jets and they hose off your undercarriage with heated water”

“That's fascinating,” Jack smiled.

“Well,” Diego sighed, “We have the parts already so we'll charge you a $90 restocking fee, that's mostly 'cuz Quinn here has to run out in the rain and slip the rim and tie-rods off the old car.”

“Aww man, that's cold,” Quinn exclaimed.

“Good news is,” Diego continued, “You really didn't tear her up all that much besides that, you knocked some things loose but we can tighten her up. The labor will cost you $400 easy,, being on the weekend now, and then $140 for the tire, $126 for the rim, taxes and disposal and you're still under a grand.”

“That's wonderful,” Jack said, placing his hands back on his hips.

“What brings you out here?” Quinn asked, “Especially in this storm.”

“My wife got a job out here, she ‪starts Monday‬ so we wanted to get out here as quick as we could....drove straight through.” Jack remarked.

“Wow,” Quinn breathed.

“I need those parts Quinn,” Diego remarked, opening the top of the tool bench and pulling out a socket wrench.

“Oh right!” Quinn smiled. He walked over to the far wall and grabbed a yellow rain coat which hung on a peg next to a Calendar, still on the month of October. A model in a bikini presided over the tenth month. “What job did your wife get out here?” He called from across the room.

“She's going to be the new Chief of Medicine at the hospital,” Jack replied, his eyes on Diego as Diego crouched back down toward the car.

“Oh she's gonna replace old man Mixter!” Quinn remarked.

Jack shrugged.

“Hurry Quinn, this guy said he's got places to be,” Diego said from under the car.

“Oh right,” Quinn said and stepped through the side door that led into a small foyer and eventually either out to the front parking lot or back into the lot.

“So your wife's a doctor eh,” Diego's voice came from under the car, “so what do you do?”

“Well I'm a doctor too,” Jack replied.

Diego emerged from the car holding a twisted piece of metal, “Really? What kind?”

“Well I'm a psychiatrist,” Jack said.

Diego slid back under the car, “A shrink huh?” He said, “You opening up an office here or something?”

“Well no,” Jack laughed, “I'm actually going to take some time off and write a book.”

Diego re-emerged with more twisted metal, “Cool,” he said, “What about?”

“Hypnosis,” Jack said matter-of-factly.

Diego cocked his head to one side, “Really? You do that shit?”

“Swear by it,” Jack replied.

There was an awkward moment of silence and then they both laughed.

🎃

Meanwhile, Ophelia Tate had purchased a small and incredibly over-priced pack of baby wipes and was giving herself the best attempt at a bath she could muster inside the surprisingly clean restroom of the SuperFuel Deluxe. After she finished, she sat on top of a toilet and took an opportunity to catch up on social media.

While she sat in the stall reading about “11 Celebrities That You Would Never Assume Were Gay”, her son Damon stepped into the Food Mart, and wiped his perfectly white sneakers on the welcome mat. An angry looking Indian man looked up as the door bells jingled and then went back to fiddling with some electronic device behind the counter. Damon's first thought was, Why does he keep all that bullet proof glass open?

He casually turned to his left, starting down an aisle chock full of every imaginable brand of potato chip or chocolate or fruity candy---browsing but not really browsing, more just wasting time. The aisle came to a dead-end at a wall of coolers full of soda and water and fruit juices. Damon stopped and caught himself staring at a row of YooHoos when he heard what sounded like a snickering to his left.

There was a small hallway to the left of the coolers, veering off next to an ATM machine. He stepped in front of the ATM machine and peered down the hallway, at once spotting the cause of the commotion. Three young boys were standing in the corner next to a door marked: UTILITY, NO TRESSPASSING. One was a freckled redheaded kid with shiny braces dressed as batman, another was a blonde haired blue eyed boy dressed like Darth Vader, and the last was a much younger looking kid with brown hair and brown eyes dressed like some kind of zombie. They were huddled together, their masks all hanging limply around their necks, crowded around a magazine featuring a hot blonde titled RED RABBIT. The cover-girl’s name was apparently Misty Dawn, and according to the cover caption, she was “Back and Ready for More Action”.

The boys caught sight of Damon and looked up startled. The freckled redhead kid's smile disappeared and his eyes grew narrow, “Hey!” He called, “What are you looking at?”

Damon was unfazed. “Looks like a couple of pervs to me,” he said, stepping toward them.

This apparently took them aback because they said nothing in retort.

“Seriously,” Damon said, pointing at the cover, “How old are you guys?”

Blonde Vader who held the magazine in his hand pressed it to his chest as if it were the most valuable thing on the earth and looked up at Damon with his mouth open. Little zombie boy took a step back. But BatFreckle was not amused. “Why don't you go Fuck Off!”

Damon frowned, “That's not very nice language. Is everyone in this town pervs like you?”

“Where are you---” little zombie started in but BatFreckle cut him off.

“Don't you know that Warren County is the home of the Rabbit-in-Red? What hole did you crawl out of freak-show?”

“Rabbit-in-what?” Damon asked and with lightning speed, snatched the magazine from Blonde Vader.

“Hey!” The wannabe Sith Lord exclaimed.

“Rabbit-In-Red Productions is the world's third largest manufacturer of pornographic media dipshit, and the company is based here in Warren County.” BatFreckle spat.

“So it is a county full of pervs,” Damon said, opening the magazine and thumbing through the pages.

“My dad said a local bunch of church folks fought Mr. Martini in court over decency laws so much, the legal fees drove the church out of business.” Blonde Vader said.

“Shi-yeah,” BatFreckle said, “That's why old man Taylor's up in his house on the hill crying like a pussy all the time.”

“Mr. Who?” Damon asked, closing the magaize and handing it back to Blonde Vader.

BatFreckle snatched it instead and flipped to the table of contents, pointing to a ‪small black‬ and white picture of a middle-aged overweight man. “Lou Martini. He's the CEO of Rabbit-in-Red nimrod, he owns half the county and is like, the richest man in Illinois outside of Chicago.”

“Where are you from?” Little zombie found his place to ask.

“My parents and I are moving here from California, we just got in tonight, got a flat tire.” Damon replied.

“California! That's cool!” Blonde Vader exclaimed.

BatFreckle rolled his eyes, “Beat it California!” He said, “We were just checking out Spitz' mom in this month's issue.”

He and Blonde Vader started laughing.

“That's not my mom!” Little zombie, who's name was obviously Spitz, whined.

“Don't lie, you know it's her!” BatFreckle teased.

Blonde Vader turned the page, and the centerfold fell out, revealing the cover-girl Misty Dawn laying on a bed of white fur naked except for a silver belly chain and and black stilettos. A paper fell out as well and fluttered almost magestically to the floor. Damon bent down and picked it up. It was a flier that featured another picture of the model. The headline read:

SEE COVER GIRL

MISTY DAWN

TUE-SUN

OCTOBER AND NOVEMBER

AT THE

RABBIT-IN-RED LOUNGE

HADDONFIELD

“Look Spitz” BatFreckle said in jest, “You can see your mom's show tonight if you want.”

“It's not my mom!” Spitz whined again.

“Why don't you leave him alone?” Damon said.

“Why don't you suck my balls?” BatFreckle snapped.

“Chill out Lonnie!” Blonde Vader slapped BatFreckle's shoulder and then looked at Damon “Lonnie can be a douche sometimes, I'm Richie Marshall, this is Lonnie Elamb, and he's Spitz. Welcome to Haddonfield.”

Lonnie groused and leaned back against the wall, opening up the porn.

“Cool, my name is Damon.”

“How old are you?” Richie asked.

“17, you?”

“I just turned 12, Lonnie is 16 but he's still in 8th grade...he has to go to special classes at the Middle School.” Richie and Spitz cackled.

“I have dyslexia fuck face!” Lonnie said, throwing the RED RABBIT at his friend.

“I'm 8,” Spitz said proudly.

“What are you doing out of the house at this time of night?” Damon asked, picking up the magazine from the floor and handing it back to Richie.

“Lonnie has his drivers license now, and I just snuck out of my house.” Richie said.

“What about you?” Damon asked, turning toward Spitz.

“His mom's a whore so she leaves him alone to go out fucking for quarters!” Lonnie called.

“Stop it Lonnie! She is not!” Spitz cried.

Damon ignored him and Spitz continued, “My mom works late nights at Jamie Lee's Diner, she doesn't get home till morning. My grandma watches me but she fell asleep and I...I snuck out too.”

“We just ate there coming in,” Damon said smiling.

“My mom is Taylor,” Spitz said.

“She was our waitress.” Damon replied.

“His mom's a slut!” Lonnie called.

Spitz started to whine but Damon put an arm around him, “Why do you hang out with this asshole? Is there anything else to do in this place than look at naked chicks?”

“There's an arcade in the driver's lounge, but I don't have any quarters.” Spitz said.

“Come on,” Damon said, “Show me where it is.”

Richie tossed Lonnie the magazine to followed Damon and Spitz. Lonnie caught it, rolling his eyes, he was perfectly happy right there looking at boobs.

🎃

Damon stepped into the shop area of the SuperFuel Deluxe and shook off the rain. There he saw his dad sitting on a folding chair listening, as another man held a lamp under their family station wagon from the Jurassic era. A third man was under the car working. The man holding the lamp was droning on and on about baseball. Damon didn't really care for baseball, or any sports for that matter.

“And then the Sox brought in their reliever, that guy Stroop, and he just completely fell apart. He hit two batters and walked another, and before you knew it the bases were loaded.” Quinn was saying.

Damon walked up to his dad. “Is that so---” Jack replied, but was startled when Damon tapped him on the shoulder.

“What is it son? You're not supposed to be back here.” Jack looked up at Damon.

“There's an arcade inside and I was wondering if you had any change on you?” Damon asked.

Jack leaned to one side and pulled his wallet out, withdrawing a 20 dollar bill. “Can they make change?” He asked.

“There's a change machine,” Damon said flatly, taking the money.

“You can play all of that, what the hell, it's been a long few days,” Jack said smiling.

Damon stuffed the twenty in his front pocket and turned, “Thanks,” he said.

“Tell your mom I'm in here,” Jack called after him.

“Haven't seen her,” Damon said as he walked out, without turning.

Quinn started up again, “So you know that big Dominican for the Cubs, Agu...Agu...something.”

“Aguilar,” Diego called from under the car.

“Yeah, Aguilar,” Quinn corrected himself. “Well he steps up to the plate and first pitch...bam!”

NEXT>>

#halloween #halloween franchise #michael myers #horror #horror writing #haddonfield #horror film #fan fiction #fan writing #spooky

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thephantomofthe-internet · 5 years

Text

Don’t break me again

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Word Count: 4,143

Warnings?: Swearing?

Author’s Note: THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE ANGST I SWEAR!!!

This is a piece for @moonstruckhargrove‘s Valentine’s Day Challenge

Tags under the cut

Valentine’s Day sucked ass.

And chocolate wasn’t on sale till tomorrow.

But you would be damned if you didn’t get any.

The one good part of adult life was that the holiday wasn’t shoved down your throat anymore. You might have liked the holiday in elementary school, when teachers made a big deal about making everyone a valentine and someone’s mom made cupcakes with pink icing, but once middle school hit and kids started being weird about crushes and the holiday, all bets were off. Middle school candy grams were a popularity nightmare-if you didn’t get one, you were a loser who nobody liked. You cried in the bathroom at lunch when nobody bought you one. When the creepy kid from your debate team bought you one the next year, you didn’t hear the end of it till junior year of high school. You watched every ‘couple’ from seventh grade on make a massive deal of the holiday-flowers and chocolates and paper hearts taped to locker doors and teddy bears dragged through classrooms and abandoned in the cafeteria or parking lot or the bleachers in the gym. You watched them lay waste to the holiday every year.

It wasn’t until senior year that you even had a reason to celebrate the holiday.

Billy Hargrove arrived in a cloud of smoke, dressed like a low rent Billy Idol and sneering like he could still smell the cow shit from the farms on the out skirts of town; hell, he probably could, you were very accustomed the stench of Hawkins. He was angry and bitter and desperate to rule the school. And you were just intriguing enough to him, with your matching sneer and Madonna style-you looked like the groupie he wanted to take home with him, and you were more than willing.

You got together quick and, to the shock of all, stayed together. That Valentine’s day, you had someone to celebrate with. But Billy didn’t do mushy holidays. You were fine with this, you didn’t need flowers that would die or stuffed animals to give to GoodWill when you broke up. You were completely content with being pushed up against a locker and kissed until you couldn’t see straight. That was good enough. And, for awhile, it made you stronger-while other couples frittered away and hated each other, you and Billy made it through till graduation.

You moved to California with him, finding not the endless beaches of Los Angeles but the northern, suburban, dull Sacramento. You found his bad boy attitude to be a façade, his grandparents’ house filled with photos of their golden, smiley grandson, their only grandchild, passing milestones like kindergarten graduation and swim lessons and losing his first tooth. He was a dork who was obsessed with Orson Scott Card and Stephen King and watching Dynasty with his grandmother. He was…lost back in his old world. He didn’t exactly fit into it anymore; his friends had moved on, the girls were more interested in the older college boys than Billy, the fun things he used to do just weren’t fun anymore. Instead of finding new things and new friends, he fell into a funk. He didn’t have a job and so he spent his days watching TV and eating junk food.

Meanwhile, you tried your best to enjoy yourself. While this wasn’t the life Billy had lovingly described to you, it was different. It wasn’t lonely, but it was awkward. You worked at the Macy’s makeup counter, selling Clinique to busy moms and teaching preteen girls to recreate looks from magazines, selling them cheap lip gloss to appease your disgruntled boss. They were sweet girls, just looking for a shot at being noticed at their schools by anyone and you knew the feeling well enough to find the time to teach them how to blend their eye shadow and blush out. It certainly killed dull weekdays when the mall was mostly empty save for kids wandering around and shoplifting magazines and candy bars.

You continued the job when you started at the community college, studying history and selling semi-expensive makeup to moms on the weekends and after school. Billy, meanwhile, promised to get his acted together and, for the most part, he stayed true to his word. He got a job at a hardware store and got you and he out of his grandparents’ house and into a crappy one bedroom apartment, its only selling point was that it was fifteen minutes away from Billy’s job. He worked full time and often took side jobs fixing lawn mowers and bicycles around the neighbourhood out of your storage space. It wasn’t exactly smooth sailing and you often missed each other-when Billy was coming in from work, you were heading out for your evening shift and when you were home, Billy was either at work or in the back of the building, getting coated in gritty grease and oil that stain his clothes and made his hair stink. You only ever seemed to see each other at the end of the night, when you were both too tired to do anything at all.

You were very lonely.

Sure, you had some friends at school and a couple of your coworkers were chummy, but you weren’t close with them. You didn’t hang out outside of school or work with them and Billy’s friends weren’t exactly inviting you along on their poker nights. You spent a lot of nights alone, pouring over your textbooks with the TV on in the background so you didn’t feel completely alone. Billy was your best friend, but he wasn’t exactly around. As you fell into the hum of school and work schedules, Billy fell into his own personal bout of loneliness.

That’s when he met Amber. That’s when he forgot you.

You knew he was cheating in the corner of your mind, but you held out hope that it would pass once you got on winter break. You had a wonderful Christmas with his grandparents, only to be spoiled by a rough call from his father. You got him a watch, monogrammed with his initials, knowing he’d lost his last one to a slippery fingered co-worker. He got you a wrench. In his defence, it was useful, but it certainly wasn’t what you wanted.

After Christmas, Billy fell away again. He was distant, out of the house just as fast as he came in, out with friends all the time and never quite with you when he was around. You craved his attention, to bring him back somehow.

And then, it all came to a head.

You worked that Valentine’s Day, because you and Billy didn’t celebrate anyway and the money would be good for an easy night. You’d painted your face in pretty pink hues and watched the young couples who wandered the mall after school that day with a bittersweet smile. You remembered being like that with Billy just a year prior. It felt silly-you were only nineteen, barely older than them, and yet you were sounding like a disgruntled housewife. You leaned on the counter, watching the clock tick down till you could finally close down the counter for the night and head home. You wanted to head home to your tired boyfriend, sit around on the couch with him, order takeout and relax for the night. It felt like forever since you done that.

But that was at noon. By five, your whole opinion had changed.

You went for your dinner break at four thirty, a small luxury of boring technical holidays where people acted like it was an actual holiday while scrubs like you worked. The only perk of it all was that while couples circulated the mall, they stayed mostly to the Valentine’s themed aisles and the jewellery stores. This gave you ample time to peruse the sale racks of expensive shops, digging around for good deals and having sales clerks mostly ignore you, a welcome thing for you.

You usually wouldn’t find yourself in the expensive lingerie shop on your break-it was full of overpriced bits of strategic lace and mesh in pastels and silks and satins. But, to your surprise and joy, they were having a sale for Valentine’s Day only and, even better-it was actually a decent deal. You went in hoping to get one new decent bra and then maybe look at the silly themed lingerie; if any of the panties were on sale you’d buy them, no amount of hearts would or could ruin a good deal on nice undies.

That’s when you saw him-Billy, mulling the racks of baby doll sets and lace one pieces’ with the eye of a skilled critic, rubbing the material between his fingers and examining the lace and mesh spots carefully. He looked absolutely adorable and you had half a mind to rush him. But two things stopped you, firstly: you didn’t want to ruin his obvious little surprise for you. It was a sweet gesture, if a little misplaced; there was nothing you’d rather wear less than the French cut magenta one piece he’d pulled with the nipples cut out and the rest of the chest covered in lace. It all looked impractical and itchy.

But the main reason you didn’t burst in on his little shopping trip was simply: someone else did it for you. A Playboy playmate jumped on his back, grinning like a fool and pressing long, fast kisses on his neck and cheek. You found yourself dumbfounded-suddenly knockoff Sandy Greenberg was pressing herself into your boyfriend and he was pulling her to his chest and kissing her with all the passion your relationship lacked. You wanted to storm them, to hit him and make a scene and cry and make him feel the way you felt as your heart slowly shattered watching them. The playsuit was for her, of course it was for her; the colour suited her bleach blonde hair and sun tanned skin perfectly. You were a forgotten piece of window dressing.

You should’ve slinked away quietly, it would’ve been so much easier and you could’ve saved the screaming match for inside your apartment. Instead, you bought the damn bra and two pairs of silk panties for the fuck of it; you wouldn’t be paying Billy’s rent anymore, you could buy yourself something new.

Before you could stop yourself, you marched over to the pair, now examining stockings and garter belts. You pulled the last bit of cash from your wallet. “Here,” you snapped, pushing the cash into Billy’s chest. His eyes flicked from your hand to yours, realization dawning on him as to what was happening. “Since I’m already paying for you to screw around with her, let me help with the toys.”

“Y/N…” Billy tried softly, watching you carefully. His little girlfriend was already putting distance between him and herself.

“Save it.” you snapped, rushing out and back to Macy’s to hide away behind a counter. You hoped that Billy would stay out of the apartment when you returned home, but a small part of you hoped that he’d be there with a thousand apologizes that you could refuse or accept at your leisure. But you knew that wouldn’t happen-you’d come home to an empty apartment and maybe a note if you were lucky. You guessed your eyes were red when you returned to your counter, because Mallory, your manager, sent you home with a sneer to ‘not use your break to get stoned’. You didn’t particularly care; you went back to the apartment to handle the mess he’d made.

Billy wasn’t home but his stuff was still there. You packed up your clothes and made your break.

That was the last time you saw him.

San Francisco was much better than Sacramento. Costume design was a more fun degree than Russian history. And working for the San Francisco Ballet was way more fun than you expected it to be.

The ballet had run a production of Romeo and Juliet for the month of February, meaning you’d spent all of January switching between quick fixes on costumes for the end of the Nutcracker run for Christmas and making dozens of muted pastel dresses for the choral girls. You weren’t the head designer, you weren’t even the head of a design group, you were simply a seamstress for the company, building tutus and skinny little dresses. In fact, your only job of real importance was the slightly awful job of helping the trope’s Prima Ballerina, Henrietta McCoy, break in and then fix her Pointe shoes. How you had gotten this role, only God knew, but you guessed you fixed a hole once and she’d had such a good performance that she insisted on you doing it from then on.

Valentine’s Day was a big performance night-it wasn’t the first performance of the run but it was the most packed. You had finished your alterations and fixes that afternoon and it was not your shift to help with changes. It was your first free night in weeks and you intended to spend it in your pyjamas on your couch with a movie and some overpriced chocolate. But to achieve this you would have to go out to get it.

Usually, you’d till the day after Valentine’s Day to buy chocolate; it always tasted better on sale and you could pick your poison guilt free. Sure, you could’ve spent your night out on the town with Cooper from the company, but you’d rather be on your own on your couch than out at some restaurant with Cooper listening to him drone on about how he was this close to making the lead male dancer for Swan Lake next Christmas.

You made your way into the cooler February night; you only lived a block away from a BlockBuster and a grocery but you still drove, not wanting to risk anything in the dark. There wasn’t going to be anything good left at BlockBuster anyway, so you went in search of chocolate first.

The store was mostly empty, save for the usually struggling husbands and boyfriends who’d forgotten the holiday. You smiled politely at their buffoonery as you passed them, heading for the more expensive chocolate.

And now…the biggest decision of the night: assorted dark or milk chocolate? Were you pretending to be healthy or admitting to your fat assery?

“Since when are you into this mushy shit?”

The voice made you stop dead in your tracks.

You didn’t turn around; if you didn’t turn around he wasn’t there. You tried to hide the shock from your voice as you answered it. “Since…Since when are you in San Francisco?”

“Just passin’ through…You look good, Y/N.”

“I know.” You chose the dark and you almost went for the smaller box.

“You’re not even gonna look at me, are you?” you could hear the confidence waver in his voice. You heaved a sigh and turned around.

The mullet was gone, a definite improvement. He looked different though-bulkier maybe. He looked less like a chiselled god and more…human; still strong, but less toned and tan. His blue eyes still shone with mischief, but there was something else there too. They were less glassy and clearer; less filled with trauma and more focused. His eyes didn’t train your body the way they used to with every girl; they stayed right on your face, in search of something.

“Hi Billy…” you said tightly, crossing your arms over your chest, plastic basket handles digging into the crook of your elbow.

“Ouch, guess I look like shit now, eh?” he joked, though it fell flat.

“You look…different.”

“Bad?”

“No…more mature maybe, but not bad. Just…different.”

Billy hummed, shuffling on the linoleum. “I…I really don’t know what to do with that. Let’s try again: so, what’re you doing tonight? Hot date?”

“Nah, I’m enjoying a much needed night off.” You smirked softly, your mind drifting to pyjamas and movies and the end of this conversation.

“Oh yeah? Work a lot of nights now?”

“Work around the clock now. No rest for the wicked I suppose.” You turned down the aisle, contemplating wine to go with your chocolate. You had a feeling Billy would follow, but you weren’t exactly pleased about it.

“I didn’t think history teachers worked around the clock.” Billy mused.

“I wouldn’t know, I’m not a history teacher.” Billy hummed curiously and you stole a glance behind you, not able to stop the grin that formed on your face as you watch him try to think of other jobs that could be related to history.

“I’m a costumer for the San Francisco Ballet. I spend all my free time starching tulle and making tutus.” You explained, pulling a bottle of red off the shelf, a half decent bottle you’d tried before and didn’t hate.

“I thought you were going to be a history teacher? Like Ms. Barney or whatever…”

He remembered. Curiouser and curiouser…

“Do you remember how shitty we treated our teachers in high school? Why the hell would I submit myself to that? Besides, I was trying to be Russian history major, that’s not exactly hireable. So, I changed to a fashion design major and got a damn degree.”

“I didn’t think you were much of a seamstress; you couldn’t even fix the hole you made in our old couch.” Billy chuckled cruelly and scowled up at him. He was such a douche.

“Okay, one; you made that hole wrestling with Justin high off your asses. And two; I DID sew it back up, and I took the weird jizz stain out of it, but you ripped it again. You stuck your foot right threw it and got stuck.” You snapped bitterly. Billy’s smirk faltered and he crossed him arms over his chest awkwardly.

“I was just kidding…” he muttered. You rolled your eyes, turning back to the shelves and pretending to examine a bottle of rosè.

“I was just…I didn’t know you were into sewing.”

You frowned, raising an eyebrow curiously, turning slowly to face him again. “I pretty much made or refashioned my whole wardrobe in high school…did you not know that?” you asked.

Billy shook his head and, for once, you believed him.

“Well, I did. And I forgot that I liked it so much so, when we…broke up, I reconsidered my life and changed my program. Stuck around in Sacramento for a little while, but once I was done I got the hell out.” You explained, turning and heading towards the cash registers, choosing the smiley girl, twenty at the oldest. You slightly hoped that he’d be more than a bit distracted by her flirty smile bubble gum bubbles.

“You know…we didn’t actually break up…” Billy whispered in your ear as you piled your purchases on the conveyor belt. You pulled away from Billy, his hot breath on your ear wet and all too familiar. He was too close for comfort and too easy to slip back into. Billy hadn’t changed, not really- he was still the giant flirty asshole he was before. Sure, he might have had a change of heart, but his attitude was the same.

“I’m pretty sure me catching you with your side chick buying lingerie was enough of a hint that you didn’t want to be with me anymore. I don’t stay where I’m not wanted.” You explained, smiling politely at the cashier, whose eyes were taking a stroll down Billy’s muscle bound body. You pulled out your wallet and your debit card, flashing it to the girl, who plugged in the payment type into the computer.

“I never said I didn’t want to be with you, Y/N.” Billy said bluntly. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you swiped your card and plugged in your code.

“Oh of course, you liked that I was paying bills and cleaning up after you.” You muttered, bitterly, grabbing the plastic bag from the girl, who waved Billy goodbye, eyes fluttering softly.

You were more than ready to leave. You’d honestly just wanted to go home, it didn’t matter that you didn’t get a movie, you just wanted to hide behind a locked door until Billy left town again. You rushed into the parking lot, leaving Billy in the dust. Because, at the end of the day, Billy was your first love and you still carried him a piece of your heart. And Billy wanted that piece back, that was clear, and you were nowhere near interested in giving it back.

But Billy didn’t exactly want to see you go just yet. And he wasn’t there for the piece, he was there for the whole heart.

Billy knew he’d fucked up the second he saw you in the mall. He realized how much he’d fucked up instantly. Erika, that was the other woman’s name, was the type of girl he went after before you. It was in a moment of desperation, of boredom and loneliness and dissatisfaction with his life. And she was exciting and new and shrill and phony and self-centred. She was a decent lay and should’ve stayed a one night stand. But, because she was interested and he was bored, he kept going back. He got caught up in the excitement of a new relationship. He didn’t realize how shit he was until he got caught.

And he regretted it so much. Because you deserved better, you deserved the best man he could be and that wasn’t him. All he wanted to do was apologize, to beg for forgiveness, but when he returned that night, practically chasing what he thought was your car, abandoning Erika without a second thought. He swore you were done at four; he would catch you before you left. But you left early and he came home to an empty apartment, your things gone, and no note to give him any clues to where you went. He’d taken all this time to find you again. He wouldn’t have guessed San Francisco.

And now you were leaving again and his chance was slipping away. If you rejected him now, he wouldn’t come looking again. He’d gotten lucky that Tina of all people knew where you had moved, that luck wasn’t coming back. And besides, he knew that his search was more than a little creepy; he really didn’t want to be creepy.

He reached out for you, grabbing your arm and pulling you back. You ripped your arm out of his grasp, but you didn’t turn your back to him, you stared him down.

“Come to dinner with me.” He grinned cockily, shoving his hands in her pockets casually.

You barked out a laugh in utter disbelief “No way in hell!”

“Why not?” Billy chuckled.

“You broke my heart, remember? I caught you with your other girlfriend on Valentine’s day.” You snapped.

“You’re never gonna let that go are you?” Billy said. You scoffed, turning to walk away. This time, Billy let you. He’d fucked up, again. This was not was he was here for

“I’m sorry.” He called after you.

You turned back slowly “What?”

Billy took a deep breath “I’m sorry, Y/N, I fucked up back then and I was unhappy and I made a mistake. I’m sorry I hurt you so much.” He said.

You were stunned; this was not what you were expecting. You nodded dumbly “It’s…its okay, Bill. I wasn’t as happy as I thought I was then.”

Billy stepped closer to you “I want to make it up to you, I wanna fix us.”

“I don’t think we can be fixed, Bill. I think we’re done.” You sighed bitterly, crossing your arms once more.

“I just…I lost you and it made me realize how much I care about you. And not just as like a girlfriend, I think you might have been my best friend.” This earned a small, genuine laugh from you that filled Billy’s whole body with the warmth of a summer day. He pressed on “And when you were gone, I realized how much I needed you. How much I need you. So please, let me try to fix this. I just want you in my life again, I don’t care in what way.”

You stayed silent for a moment, letting his words settle in your mind. You missed him too, you couldn’t deny that any longer. Your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed out a sigh.”Just…just don’t break me again, okay? I can’t bear it.” you whispered.

Billy nodded frantically “I won’t, I can’t I-I would never let that happen again.”

You nodded, more to yourself than him “If you want to hang out, I was gonna rent a movie.” You peaked at him, watching the genuine grin break out on his face. “But nothing scary! You know I don’t like horror movies!”

Billy chuckled “You liked Carrie!” he tried. You smiled much to his relief, smacking his shoulder slightly as you headed for the Blockbuster, just a few shops down.

“Don’t push it, Hargrove.” you said, grinning up at him.

“I won’t.”

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thrane34hall-blog · 5 years

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zeldaspeaksmindfulness · 2 years

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trailheadcoffeeshop-blog · 5 years

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Best Solo Seasonal Honduran Micro lot

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genewolf · 3 years

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stereksecretsanta · 6 years

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Merry Christmas, @caffeine-in-an-iv!

Happy Holidays and/or Seasons Greetings to my Secret Santa, caffeine-in-an-iv aka WitchWithWifi! I heard you liked Christmas fluff! Well, have I got some fluff for you! I really hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much for reading!

Read on AO3

*****

Follow the Jelly Beans

Derek can’t believe he’s the last one off the plane.

It’s partially his fault, he’d been working late and had to rush to the airport. The dirty looks he’d gotten when he ran down the aisle of the plane in a crumpled suit rivaled what he had gotten from his mother on Skype that morning when he said he’d be catching a later flight.

It isn’t Derek’s fault that his students had handed in work at the last minute that had to be graded before Christmas break. He knows he’s been too soft on them, but he’s always been a sucker for personal statements and reading about his students’ holiday traditions made him even more lenient than usual.

He’d shoved himself into the middle seat closest to the rear lavatory with a sheepish look on his face. It was a six-hour flight from New York to Sacramento and he clutched his worn copy of A Christmas Carol and settled in to read it like he did every winter.

By the time he deplanes and makes it to baggage claim, his suitcase is the only one left. The tag is torn off but he’s already missed 8 calls from Cora and just grabs it quickly before rushing outside.

“Get in, loser!” she calls from the window of her Jeep. “Everyone is waiting for you to decorate the tree!”

“Christmas is in like two days, and you still haven’t decorated?” Derek asks, throwing his ratty rollaway bag into the trunk.

“Mom wanted us to all be together. But someone had to go and move halfway across the world.”

“I like my job, Cora,” Derek says, buckling his seatbelt. “You don’t just turn down Columbia.”

“You sound like such an East Coast snob when you say stuff like that,” she says, weaving through the crazy holiday traffic.

“And you’re my least favorite sister.”

“Ha fucking ha,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “Your life is in my hands right now, don’t mess with me,” she adds, changing lanes just a hair too close for Derek’s comfort.

It takes a few hours but they make it back to the house in one piece and Derek can already hear the kids screaming as they pull into the drive. It makes him smile. He doesn’t get home as often as he should and hopes the small gifts he has packed are enough for him to keep his title as favorite uncle.

”Finally!” he hears from the front porch as he grabs his suitcase. “I thought you’d walked here.”

His mother is just as striking as ever, just a few streaks of grey in her dark hair betraying her age. “Sorry, Mom,” he says softly into her hair as he’s pulled into a hug.

“Uncle Derek!” someone screams as they tackle him around the knees. “It’s pajama time!”

“I can see that!” he says, stooping down to get a hug and a kiss from Laura’s youngest. “Give me a minute and I’ll go change.” He waves hello to everyone else who is gathered around a bare tree and hops up the stairs to his childhood bedroom to put on his soft flannel bottoms. Gracie had picked them out especially for him last Christmas and he made sure to pack them for the traditional pajama decorating party.

Only his pants aren’t in the bag. In fact, none of his belongings are in the bag. It’s not his bag at all.

“Oh no,” he mutters, sifting through the contents. “Who the fuck packed this?”

The suitcase is utter chaos. There’s an assortment of wrapped Christmas gifts and scrunched up clothes but there’s also a bunch of half knitted scarves, action figures, baby toys and… are those throwing stars in that carrying case? To cap it all off, every nook and cranny of the bag is full of loose jelly beans.

“Oh my God,” Laura snickers from the doorway. “Did you switch bags with a killer Easter Bunny?”

“I have no idea,” he says, pulling out a noise machine and a copy of Go the Fuck to Sleep .

“Is that a fishing rod?” she asks, stepping forward to grab an oblong shape out of a long pocket. “This thing is kind of cool,” she says, snapping the rod together to its full length. “It’s like stealth fishing.”

“I need to call the airline,” Derek says, reaching for his phone. “I had all the gifts in there. And I don’t think I can fit in any of these clothes,” he adds, pulling out a well-worn Batman tee shirt that’s at least two sizes too small for him.

He’s on hold for twenty minutes with Laura tapping her foot and looking at her watch before the helpline connects. They are no help at all. Does he know how many bags get lost during Christmas? It’s impossible for them to match up every bag with every person and there’s nothing matching his description left at the airport. Someone else must have taken his bag by mistake. So sorry, happens all the time, Merry Christmas.

“Fuck!” he groans, ending the call. “Someone else has my bag and I’ve got this… whatever this junk is.”

“We could just give the kids these and hope they’re not porn,” Laura says, chuckling as she reaches for one of the wrapped presents. It’s Star Wars wrapping paper. R2-D2 is wearing a Santa hat and everything.

“You can’t do that, Laura!” Derek says, snatching the present out of her hand. “You’re going to ruin someone’s Christmas.”

“You’re such a Tiny Tim,” Laura teases, dropping the present with a huff. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow. It’s getting close to bedtime for the kids and we still have to decorate and have hot chocolate. You know how Dad is about tradition.”

“I’m coming, just…” he trails off, opening a drawer and finding nothing but old clothes from high school “Can I borrow something from Adam? I don’t have any pajamas to wear.”

“Sure thing, bro,” she says, leading him out of the room.

It’s wonderfully chaotic as always, and the footie Minion pajamas Derek is forced into only add to the ridiculousness of it all. Thirteen people under one roof is always a bit crazy, but coming in late without any of his belongings has Derek feeling a bit more overwhelmed than usual.

“I don’t think you’re going to be getting your stuff back, sweetheart,” Talia says hours later as the adults share a much-needed glass of wine. “We can do some last minute shopping tomorrow if you really want, but the kids are just happy you’re here.”

“I had a 50th Anniversary copy of The Hobbit for West,” Derek groans, rubbing at his beard.

“And you didn’t carry it on?” Peter asks, swirling his wine with his feet up in his wife’s lap. “It’s like you were asking for it.”

“I’ll help you see if there are any clues in the bag,” Cora says, tossing a dirty look in Peter’s direction.

They go through everything in the bag piece by piece, sorting it into piles and collecting the jelly beans in a ziplock bag. Without opening the presents, there aren’t a lot of clues. The only identifying item is a ratty old Beacon Hills High Lacrosse tee shirt.

“This looks at least five years old, maybe ten,” Cora says, holding it up to her chest. “The underwear tells me it’s a dude, at least.”

“I don’t think I can go to the high school and ask, ‘hey I know this is a long shot but do you know whose boxers these are? They used to go here ten years ago,’” Derek says, rolling his eyes.

“Why don’t you just open a present,” she suggests, shaking a box. It doesn’t make any noise. “It’s not like the guy can’t re-wrap them.”

“I don’t know,” Derek says, flopping down on his back on his old full bed. “It feels weird and invasive.”

“Just imagine that he’s probably touching your underwear now, too. If that makes you feel any better,” she says, poking him in the side as she drops the box back in the suitcase.

“Somehow that’s not comforting,” Derek groans, kicking out at her.

“Why don’t you just start with one,” she says, holding up another small package. “If that doesn’t help you can try another one. That way you won’t ruin everything, you big baby.”

“Okay,” Derek says, not having any better ideas. He grabs the gift and reads the tag. “To Scott: Finally saw one of these come through the store and nabbed it for you.” Derek peels back the corner of the paper and finds a Funkopop box. Sliding through the tape and removing the paper he sees that it’s a glow in the dark White Walker.

“I have no idea,” Cora says, quickly becoming bored. “Try the comic book store in the morning. If they’re even open on Christmas Eve.”

Derek does exactly that. He checks online and is standing out front of Beacon Hills Comics with a cup of coffee exactly when it opens.

“Can I help you?” the clerk asks, eyebrows high. Derek must not look like their typical customer in his tweed jacket and slacks.

“I kind of found this,” he says, putting the box on the table. “And I was wondering if you could tell me about it.”

“Seriously?” he says, eyes brightening as he carefully lifts the box. “These are really rare. You just found it somewhere?”

“It’s a long story,” Derek says, sighing. “Do you know where someone might have gotten it?”

“Are you looking to sell? Because I’ll give you $200 for it.”

“Thank you, but no,” Derek says, shaking his head. He has no idea if that’s a fair price or not, but he’s sure as hell not selling someone else’s Christmas gift.

“Most of the time people buy and sell these on eBay or at stores like this. The super rare ones are only sold at like Comicon and stuff.”

“Okay…” Derek says, puzzling through the information. “So whoever bought this is a nerd?”

“We’re all nerds,” the man says with a huff. “This guy is a collector. Someone serious.”

“Okay,” Derek says, reaching for the doll. “Thanks for your help.”

“$300!” the guy calls as Derek leaves the store.

“No deal,” he says with a small smile on his face, more determined than ever.

He thinks it over while he plays Guess Who with the kids. The more he thinks about the collection or random stuff in the suitcase, the more he thinks he might like to meet whoever owns it.

Under the watchful eye of Laura and his mother, he helps Gracie, West, Charlotte, and Milo decorate Christmas cookies, which is more of a test of patience than anything. By the time they’re done, Derek is covered in frosting and has sprinkles stuck in his beard. He takes a second shower before choosing another present to open.

This one is much larger than the last, but a completely ridiculous shape. The tag reads: “To Allison: Your other gift got shipped, but I thought you’d enjoy this. Might be fun to scare the kids with.”

Derek slips the paper off to find a headband in his hand. There’s an arrow going through it. He cracks up. Who is this guy? A magician? An evil mastermind? An eccentric preschool teacher?

There’s no way the headband is going to help him get anywhere, so he digs another present out of a pile of jelly beans. This one is squishy and the tag reads: “To Melissa: No more putting it off. It’s time for your childhood dreams to come true. Eat your heart out, Tonya Harding.”

Inside is a pair of fur-lined mittens. Slipped inside one of them is an envelope containing a voucher for ice skating lessons… at the Beacon Hills rink. Smiling to himself, Derek rounds up the kids and loads them into Laura’s minivan for a fun surprise trip with Uncle Derek.

Gracie and West help the other two on with their skates while Derek speaks to the front office. Their website is down so they’re unable to trace orders that were placed online, but they tell him that he’s welcome to schedule his first ice skating lesson now if he likes. Derek politely declines, shaking his head. Another dead end.

Derek laces up his own skates and steps out onto the ice, smiling as the weightless easy feeling takes over him. He watches the kids race around the rink, screaming and laughing as they fall all over each other under the twinkling of the arena’s Christmas lights.

Not for the first time, Derek wonders if he’ll ever have something like this, a loving partner and a couple of kids to bring home to his parents’ for the holidays. Maybe it’s time to give online dating another try. If there’s anyone half as interesting as the suitcase man out there, he might want to ask them for a date.

After a few hours, Derek rounds the kids back up and treats them to hot chocolate. He sits with Milo on his lap and sings along to the Christmas carols being pumped through the tinny arena speakers with a smile on his face. Even a bit of scalding cocoa spilled on his pants does little to dampen the spirit of the season.

“What are you thinking about?” Gracie asks him on their way back to the car, already far too perceptive for her age.

“How things are going to be next Christmas,” he says, smiling sweetly down at her as they help the younger kids into their car seats. “You think you’ll get another sister or brother by then?” he teases.

“I hope not. I already heard Mom say Milo was an accident,” she stage whispers.

Derek laughs freely, making sure everyone is buckled in tight before heading back to the Hale house. As they sit beside the fire reading The Night Before Christmas later that evening, Derek thinks about the suitcase man and who he might be spending Christmas with.

Unable to sleep from all the chocolate he’s had in the last two days, Derek stares at the ceiling at 11 p.m. He’s no closer to finding out where his suitcase is and tomorrow is Christmas.

One more , he tells himself, getting up and flicking the light back on. He digs around in the suitcase until he finds the present Cora shook the night before.

Carefully slitting the tape, Derek reveals a plain white box. Inside, painstakingly wrapped in white tissue paper is a framed photograph. It’s old, the colors worn and tinted orange like so many other family photos he’s seen over the years.

A man stands next to a police cruiser, one hand leaning against the roof while the other holds tight to the leg of the young boy who’s sitting on his shoulders. It’s shot from behind, so Derek can’t see their faces, but he knows for sure this is a special photograph. He also knows that the little boy in the photos must be the one who went to Beacon Hills High ten years ago and filled his suitcase with jelly beans.

He stares at the photo for a long time, tracing the lines of the car with his finger until it clicks. This boy’s father was a local police officer. If he was twenty years ago, maybe he still is and if not, at least someone at the station would be able to identify the car.

Moving quickly, Derek makes sure everything is back in the suitcase before grabbing the photograph and rushing downstairs. “Hey Peter, can I borrow your car?” he asks quietly. Peter and his wife Savannah are curled up on the couch, Charlotte asleep between them.

“Keys are in the kitchen,” he says softly, brushing the hair out of Charlotte’s face as Savannah looks on. Her eyes are sleepy but bright with love, it’s obvious how happy they are together.

Derek’s heart aches as he stares for a second, caught up in the sight of something he’s not sure he’ll ever experience himself. Shaking his head slightly, he pushes on, retrieving Peter’s keys and shoving the suitcase in the trunk. It’s a short ride to the Sheriff’s station and Derek barely even has time to think about what he’s going to say before he’s heading inside.

“Can I help you?” the dispatcher says, barely looking up from the paperwork he’s shuffling through.

“I was wondering if you knew who was in this picture? I think they might work here,” Derek says, holding out the frame.

The dispatcher laughs. “That’s a good one,” he says, handing the photo back. “Hey Sheriff!” he calls behind him. “Someone here to see you!”

“How many times have I told you to use the intercom,” a man says, poking his head out of an office down the hall. He’s imposing in his uniform but looks kind, blonde and tan with a coffee mug in his hand.

“It’s a small office, Sheriff,” the man says, turning back to his paperwork.

“Don’t I know it,” the Sheriff says, sighing as he leans his hand on the doorframe. “That’s why we’re all working on Christmas Eve. What can I do for you, son?” he asks, turning to Derek.

“Uhh…” Derek says, stepping forward when the Sheriff waves him over. “I think…” he trails off again searching for the words. “Is this you?” he asks instead, holding out the photograph.

“Wow,” he says, taking it and sitting down heavily in his desk chair. “Where did you get this?”

“I got the wrong bag at the airport,” Derek says, watching the Sheriff’s face intently as he studies the photograph. It’s happy, but also wistful. It makes Derek think that while the suitcase man in the picture is probably still alive, maybe the person who took the photo isn’t. “It was full of all this completely insane stuff, but also a few presents. That was one of them.”

“So you’re the one who ended up with Stiles’ bag,” the Sheriff says, a smile spreading across his face as he starts to chuckle. “He’s an odd one, my son.”

“Do you want the bag?” Derek asks, a little put out. After all the work he put in to finding the suitcase man, he kind of wants to see it through to the end.

“I’m working the night shift tonight. Why don’t you go to my house and give it to him? Just don’t ring the bell or you’ll wake the baby. If that’s not too much trouble?”

“Sure. No problem,” Derek says, taking the photo back when it’s offered. Knowing there’s actually a baby involved at least makes sense of half of the items in the suitcase, the others, not so much. “Thanks, Sheriff.”

“Call me John,” the man says, holding out his hand. “It’s 129 Woodbine Lane,” he adds, walking Derek out. “And thanks for hunting him down. Especially on Christmas. It would have been a shame to lose that photo.”

“You’re welcome,” Derek says, turning toward the door. “I’m Derek, by the way.”

“I know who you are, son,” John says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve lived here for years. Your sister went to school with Stiles.”

“Oh,” Derek says softly. He’s kind of struck dumb by what a small world it is, that Stiles was on the same flight as him coming home to Beacon Hills for Christmas on the same day with a bag that exactly matched his. “I’ll get this to him.”

“Make sure he gives you a proper thank you,” John adds, waving before heading back to his office.

Derek gets back in the car and heads over to Woodbine. He must have run down this block a hundred times as a kid and never knew the Sheriff or his son. Retrieving the bag from the trunk, Derek walks slowly up the front steps. He’s thought of nothing else for the past 36 hours and yet now that he’s here he’s hesitant to knock.

Taking a deep breath, Derek raises his hand and gives the glass a light rap. A few seconds later the curtain flies open and a freckled face appears. Derek waves, mouthing “hi” like Stiles has any idea who he is. He points down at the suitcase and hopes Stiles will get the idea.

The door opens quietly and the suitcase man invites him inside. He takes the bag from Derek’s hand and immediately opens it on the coffee table. “I swear to God, if the Binky Bear isn’t in here, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“What?” Derek says, eyebrows flying up.

“Binky Bear. It’s this little stuffed bear with a nipple attached. Have you seen it?”

“Uhh…” Derek says, getting lost for a second when he looks down to see the waistband of the man’s underwear sticking up out of his pajama bottoms. “I think in the side pocket maybe?” he walks around the table to the other side of the suitcase and unzips a hidden pocket, revealing the bear.

“Thank fuck,” Stiles says, grabbing the bear and clutching it to his chest. “I thought I had it in the diaper bag and then it was nowhere and I just… it was touch and go there for a while, I’m not gonna lie. I thought she was going to eat me.”

“Your... daughter?” Derek asks, not wanting to assume anything further.

“Yeah, she’s two and when they say terrible, they mean terrible, holy fuck,” he says, flopping down on the couch, looking exhausted.

“Ah,” Derek says, not knowing what he’s supposed to do now. “Are you supposed to curse this much if you have a two-year-old?”

“She’s sleeping, Suitcase Man,” Stiles says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t happen very often so when it does, you have to take full advantage. You don’t have kids, do you?”

“Uhh no,” Derek says, scratching at his beard awkwardly. “I have nieces and nephews.”

“Wait a second,” Stiles says, eyes narrowing in Derek’s direction. “You’re Derek Hale, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

“The beard threw me off for a minute but I never forget a face,” Stiles says. “I went to school with you. Same year as Cora.”

“She didn’t say…” Derek says, trying to string a coherent sentence together. “I mean we saw the lacrosse shirt in the bag but we didn’t really know who it was.”

“How did you find me then?” he asks, heading to the fridge and returning with two beers, handing one to Derek.

“This,” Derek says, pulling the framed photo from the inside pocket of his coat. “I went to the Sheriff’s station. Met your dad.”

“That’s A+ detective work, Mr. Hale,” Stiles jokes, tipping his beer toward Derek.

“I didn’t want to open the presents, but I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“It’s alright, I’d given it up as a lost cause. I must have your bag. Sorry about that, by the way. I may have rage dumped it looking for the Binky Bear.”

“That’s alright,” Derek says, mind reeling. Stiles is without a doubt one of the most peculiar people he’s ever met. “I have to ask though… what’s with the jelly beans?”

“Well, Derek,” Stiles says, propping his feet up on the suitcase. It slouches him down far enough that a strip of his stomach is showing between his underwear and his Green Arrow tee shirt. “When your ex-girlfriend shows up on your doorstep with a two-year-old and says she’d like to relinquish custody, you do just about whatever it takes to get that little baby girl potty trained. The only thing that seems to work is jelly beans. She inherited my penchant for junk food. The bag popped while I was packing but I just kind of went with it. I needed those jelly beans, Derek.”

“Huh,” Derek says, frowning. “I was thinking magician.”

“What?” Stiles crows, practically folding himself in half as he spasms with laughter. “What made you say magician?”

“I don’t know… the throwing stars and the scarves and the arrow headband thingy? It was either that or super villain,” Derek says in a huff.

“I own a comic book store in New York,” Stiles says, still laughing. “Although I might take up villainy on the side. Sounds like a sweet gig.”

“I teach English at Columbia,” Derek says. “Not as fun as a comic book store, I’m sure.”

“What’s your favorite book?” Stiles asks, narrowing his eyes. “Be warned that our fledgling relationship depends on your answer.”

“Don’t ask me that,” Derek says, groaning. “That’s not fair. I can’t pick one book.”

“Answer the question, Mr. Hale,” Stiles says, staring him down.

Derek downs the rest of his beer before saying, “ Don Quixote ,” with a grimace.

“No shit,” Stiles says. “I bet you’re bilingual too,” he adds rolling his eyes.

Derek doesn’t even bother answering. He is bilingual, but he knows Stiles is just trying to embarrass him.

“Try again. What’s your second favorite book?”

“ Welcome to the Monkey House ,” Derek says immediately.

“Better,” Stiles says, tossing his head back and forth like he’s considering it.

“What’s your favorite book then? If you’re going to be so judgmental about it,” Derek says, eyebrows raised.

“ Ender’s Game ,” Stiles says. Before Derek even has time to consider this, he shoots back, “Favorite author?”

“Neruda,” Derek says, flashing Stiles a grin.

“Poetry doesn’t count,” Stiles says. He’s shaking his head but he’s smiling.

“My PhD in literature begs to differ,” Derek says as Stiles hops off the couch for more beer. He’s already feeling loose and comfortable, all awkwardness of their meeting flown out the window.

“Fine,” Stiles says, flopping back on the couch. “Favorite band, then.”

He’s closer to Derek now, his feet practically in Derek’s lap. There’s an easy familiarity to the gesture that makes something in Derek relax even further.

“What is this? A job interview?” Derek asks, laughing as he watches Stiles’ beer foam over.

Stiles chases the spill with his tongue, licking his fingers as it drips down his hand. “I figured it was more like speed dating,” he says once his hand is clean. “People don’t just hunt you down over some jelly beans. You must be something special.”

“I was… curious,” Derek says, feeling his face heat under his beard. “Interested.”

“Well now I’m interested,” Stiles says easily, flashing him a smile.

They end up talking for hours. Derek asks question after question, eager to find out more about the mysterious man he’s been led to by some sort of twisted Christmas miracle. Stiles teases him mercilessly, making him laugh and blush harder than he has in years.

Eventually, a sharp cry rings out through the baby monitor on the end table and Derek startles. “She’s not going to go back down easy,” Stiles says, peeling himself away from Derek’s side where he’d settled the last time he’d come back from the bathroom.

“I can go,” Derek says, pointing to the door. He glances at his watch and sees that it’s nearly 3 a.m.

“Stay,” Stiles says, reaching for his hand. “I have your clothes anyway. We can talk more. You shouldn’t drive this late at night on Christmas Eve. Too many drunks on the road.”

Derek wants to argue, but all of that sounds perfectly reasonable to him. “Okay,” he says, following Stiles to a bedroom that’s currently serving double duty as an office and a nursery.

“Shh, Wonder Woman, it’s alright,” Stiles coos, reaching down into the crib for the baby girl who is standing up, clinging to the bars and screaming. “I heard you the first time.”

Derek stares. The girl is wearing Wonder Woman themed footie pajamas, her auburn hair curling around her tiny ears. She has Stiles’ little upturned nose and matching freckles on her round face.

“This is Claire,” he says, fitting the crying child against his hip like he’s been doing it for years and not just a few weeks. “Claire, this is my new friend Derek.”

She immediately hides her face in her father’s neck and quiets down. Stiles bounces her a few times, exiting the room and leading Derek down the hall to what must be his own childhood bedroom. There are posters on the walls of some of the bands Stiles had mentioned and superhero paraphernalia everywhere.

“I believe that is yours,” Stiles says, nodding to the corner where Derek’s suitcase stands. “Put on some PJs and join us,” he adds, sitting down on the edge of the bed and patting Claire’s butt to check for leaks.

“Thank you,” Derek says. All his clothes and gifts are inside, still wrapped and folded the way he left them. He pulls out his flannel pajama bottoms and ducks into the bathroom to change.

When he gets back, Stiles is lying down on the bed, Claire resting on his chest with the Binky Bear tucked into her mouth. She’s awake and babbling nonsense around the pacifier. Stiles speaks softly to her, “Really? That’s so interesting!” he replies, cupping the little girl’s head.

Derek picks up a picture book off the bedside table and looks at the cover.

“That’s her favorite, isn’t it Claire-bear?” Stiles coos, rocking her. “It’s cute. You should read it.”

So he does. Derek reads through The Pout-Pout Fish three times before Claire’s eyes fall closed and she starts dozing on Stiles’ chest.

“Hit the light,” Stiles says, yawning. “I’m not moving her again.”

“Okay,” Derek says, like staying right now isn’t a completely absurd thing to do. His entire family will be up in three hours ready to open presents, but right now, Derek doesn’t care. He lays down beside Stiles in the twin sized bed, close enough that he can feel Claire breathing beside him.

“Thanks for bringing the gifts back,” Stiles says, reaching his pinky out to snag Derek’s, linking them together.

“It was a really nice picture of you and your dad,” Derek says softly, turning in toward Stiles, placing his free hand on Claire’s back to feel her breathing. It’s just like when he first babysat Gracie except entirely different. Being here with Stiles is like nothing he’s ever experienced before.

“My mom took it,” Stiles mutters, eyes blinking slowly. “I found it in the attic last Christmas but it took me a while to be able to look at it.”

“She’s been gone a long time?” Derek asks, inching closer to Stiles.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, smiling sadly. “Thanks for bringing her back to me.”

“I’m glad I found you,” Derek says, answering his smile.

“I’m glad you did, too,” Stiles says, leaning in to press his lips against Derek’s. It’s dry and over too quick, but Derek doesn’t ask for anything more. They fall asleep like that, curled in toward each other, pinkies linked, with Claire a solid warmth between them.

It’s 8 a.m. when a soft knock on the door wakes Derek. When he peels his eyes open he sees the Sheriff standing in the doorway, eyes flicking between him and Claire. He gives a small nod and leaves them be.

As quietly as he can, Derek pulls himself out of bed and grabs the handle of his suitcase. His family is probably waiting on him to open presents. Just as he’s thinking about whether or not it would be creepy to kiss Stiles’ cheek goodbye, the man’s eyes flash open.

“Leaving already?” Stiles asks, lips curving into a warm smile. “I thought you might stay forever.”

Derek smiles back, reaching for Stiles’ hand. “I might,” he says softly, knowing Stiles needs the sleep and he’ll only get it as long as Claire is still quiet. “I know you guys probably have plans, but what would you say to dessert at my parents’ house tonight?”

“We’ll be there,” Stiles says, giving Derek a wink. “My dad knows where you live.”

“That’s not terrifying at all,” Derek says with a small laugh, leaning in to kiss Stiles once on the mouth before grabbing his suitcase and heading back downstairs.

“Must have been some thank you,” the Sheriff says from his seat on the couch when Derek passes him.

“Yeah,” Derek says with a sheepish smile. He knows he didn’t do anything wrong but he still feels like a teenager getting caught with his pants down. “I’ll see you all later for dessert,” he says, giving a quick wave and practically running from the house.

Driving quickly, Derek gets home in a matter of minutes and throws Peter’s car in park. He fetches his suitcase and goes around back in an attempt to sneak into the kitchen.

“Really Derek?” Laura asks, looking up from her cup of coffee when he pads into the kitchen. “You do a walk of shame on Christmas morning and you can’t even be bothered to come in wearing last night’s clothes like a normal person?”

“It’s not a walk of shame,” he says quickly, feeling the blush rise to his cheeks as he looks down at his flannel pajama pants.

“Because you’re not feeling ashamed, or because nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened!” he blurts out, burying his head in a cabinet to search for a coffee mug.

“Holy shit,” he hears, seeing Cora appear in the kitchen doorway when he looks up. “You fucked suitcase man!”

“I did not!” Derek shouts, turning his back on both his sisters as he busies himself with fixing his coffee. “And his name is Stiles.”

“Stiles Stilinski? That weird kid from high school who used to do bad magic tricks in the cafeteria?” Cora asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“I knew it! I knew he did magic!” Derek exclaims. “I’m going to kiss that smug look off his face when he gets here.”

“He’s coming for Christmas?” Laura says, eyes lighting up. “Ohh, Derek’s got it baaaaad,” she calls. “Do I hear the pitter-patter of little feet already? You want to have his babies?”

“Well, actually,” Derek says, a smile crossing his face as he thinks about Claire and her Binky Bear.

“No shit,” Cora says, deadpan. “I don’t believe it. You and Stiles and a baby makes three?”

“Her name is Claire and they’re coming over with the Sheriff after dinner,” Derek says, taking a sip of his coffee.

“What’s this I hear about more grandchildren?” his mother calls, her steps heavy on the stairs.

Derek groans while Laura and Cora laugh and throw mini marshmallows at him, but he can’t stop smiling.

Hours later, when dessert is long since gone and Stiles and Derek are kissing under the mistletoe as Claire plays pet hospital with Milo, Derek thinks that maybe following the jelly beans was the smartest dumb thing he’s ever done.

#caffeine-in-an-iv #stereksanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

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