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#definitely not appropriate. she’d also wink at me all the time or talk about how much i loved her and i definitely think she could tell i
lamictallesbian · 3 years
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um WHAT 😀
#so i talked to isabel about how i first started questioning whether i was gay. i had developed a crush on my middle school teacher#it took me about four months to realize that it was even a crush and i couldn’t figure out why i wanted her to like me so badly#basically i performed super well in her class and was the top student and she gave me gifts#she also lived/still lives in my neighborhood and because she was a co director for the musical production that i was in she would offer#to drive me home. but when we got to the intersection right by my house i remember her asking if i wanted to come pick up her kids with her#making the drive an extra 40 minutes longer when my house was literally a minute away#this happened a lot where we would just spend all this extra time together#she would also make semi innappropriate comments toward me which i ate right up bc i had a crush#i also remember when she invited me to swim at her house and i wore a bikini and she stared and smirked at me the entire time which again#i was seriously crushing so i loved the attention. i also think about how she took photos of me in my bikini which now i realize is#definitely not appropriate. she’d also wink at me all the time or talk about how much i loved her and i definitely think she could tell i#had a crush bc i’m pretty sure i made it obvious whether i thought i was being discreet or not. just all the times where she invited me to#her house which i’m pretty sure is not appropriate for a teacher to do?? idk i genuinely can’t tell#then there’s the whole note. at the end of the semester i found a note in my locker which said i love you.#this was RIGHT AFTER my other teacher had been caught having a relationship with a student. that same day i found the note she had asked me#what my thoughts were on the situation. i asked several people who i thought the note could be from if it was them and they all said no. it#was also put in there during a period where she didn’t have class but everyone else did so like how did someone else put that in there. i#still don’t know who put that there and i’m pretty sure someone would have fessed up bc what’s the point in doing that and then lying about#it. also literally asking me how i felt about the situation with the other teacher right after?? like why would you ask me that. and smirk#while asking that??? it’s just so weird.#okay wait i remember i gave her a FUCKING valentine and she said she knew it was from me.... which means she definitely knew..... NO OMG.#she definitely fucking knew.#she also found and followed me on twitter#and i remember my friend saying how weird that was at the time that she had literally searched up my name#she also told me how mature i was for my age all the time#god i wish my memory wasn’t shit bc there were so many other weird things that i know happened that i can’t even remember rn#she would also drive by my house a lot even though she lived at the front of the neighborhood and i lived in a culdesac#okay i also remember the summer between seventh and eighth grade i didn’t go to her house after she asked several times bc i was low key#scared of her too and she refused to talk to me and acted kinda mean to me for a whole month when i came back to school despite being super#friendly the whole year before and she even pointed out how i didn’t come to her house
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football-writing · 3 years
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Ben Chilwell - insufferable
Prompt: "I'd rather argue with you, than kiss someone else." "You can't deny what's between us. We're perfect for each other."
Summary: Ben and Y/N are neighbours. They also seem to argue just about all the time.
Warnings: a little neighbour enemies to lovers something, a LOT of sexual innuendos, some curse words
"Ben, move." Her voice was stern, as annoyed with him as ever as he blocked the way to her door.
"C'mon, Y/N. I just wanna talk."
"You kept me up all night practising that goddamned piano with your stupid windows open. No, I will not talk to you. Now, move." She was getting agitated with him, foot tapping on the pavement as she wished for him to hurry up.
"You listen to me playing piano? How sweet. It's almost like I'm serenading you, isn't it?" He knew exactly what he was doing. How to rile her up and push her buttons. It's not something he had meant to happen - he'd obviously rather get along with his neighbour. But the way she puffed her cheeks, the intensity with which she looked at him as she got more and more annoyed made his belly erupt with butterflies.
"Get fucked, Ben." Was her only reply as she pushed his chest to get to her door, Ben gladly taking a step aside with his arms up in surrender and a shit-eating grin on his face. God how she wished she could wipe it off of him.
"Sure. You free tonight?"
She'd opened the door then, stepped inside and smacked it straight in the poor boy's face.
He wondered if the sexual comment was perhaps taking it a bit too far - knowing she didn't mean it like that at all. He wondered if he should knock on her door to apologise, too. But just then, her frontdoor opened again.
"And by the way, the piano sounds absolutely horrendous." Smack. She immediately closed the door again.
He let out a boisterous laugh, then. Her antics were just so cute.
"Can't get better if you don't practice." He yelled through the closed door.
"Leave me alone, Ben. I'll call the cops for stalking." Her muffled voice sounded right back, but he could tell even then that she was saying it with a smile.
"Alright, alright. Party at my place tonight. Join if you wanna." He called out before finally leaving her be.
She'd contemplated going, she really had. She wasn't that interested in spending the night at Ben's house, particularly because if his friends were anywhere similar to him, she'd be in for a hell of a night. But then again, she didn't have much else to do, and she could use a good distraction.
So there she was, knocking on his door on what she considered an appropriate time to arrive after the party had started. Perhaps she had peaked out the window to know when his friends arrived, coming half an hour later just to make him sweat as to whether or not she'd take him up on his offer.
"Ah, the queen herself made it." Ben said as soon as he opened the door, taking notice of the outfit she'd picked out. It was casual, but god, did it look good on her. He licked his lips before moving aside to let her in.
"Welcome to my humble abode, darling." He said as he trailed after her through his hall.
"Don't stare at my ass, Ben." She didn't even have to look back to know why he wanted her to walk in first.
"Too late."
She only chuckled as she walked into his living room. People were scattered around, some guys playing Fifa on his tv, others chatting amongst themselves and dancing to the beat of some random pop song. She wasn't entirely sure where to go, or who to speak to, as seemingly everyone was preoccupied with whatever they were doing.
Ben noticed, and placed his hand firmly on her lower back. She twisted her face to look at him, an uncertain look in her eyes, though she didn't swat his hand away.
He nodded for her to move towards the kitchen, his hand staying pressed against the small of her back to guide her.
The kitchen was a little quieter, and she rubbed her sweaty hands against her thighs as Ben got her a drink.
"I knew you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to spend time with me." He mentioned cockily as he handed her a red cup. Though the gesture was sweet, the words accompanying them made her want to roll her eyes. Were all footballers this annoying?
"Actually, just here for the free drinks." She replied as she lifted her cup.
Silence fell between them as she took small sips of her drink. She wasn't quite sure what she expected, but for him to keep standing next to her definitely wasn't it. Eyeing the people in the livingroom didn't lessen her confusion. He'd invited some girls over, dressed in tight dresses to show of their perfect figures. Why had he invited her? To stop from complaining about the noise?
"Are you not going to chat up those girls?" She questioned as she nodded her head in their general direction, not making any eyecontact with the boy next to her.
"Why, you got some sort of voyeurism kink?"
"Hm. Could probably give you some pointers. You don't look like you're very good at flirting." She replied nonchalantly, though her eyebrows raised at his bold remark.
"They're actually my friends' girlfriends." He explained truthfully. It was the first time she looked up at him during their little bickering. He was focused on drawing patterns with his finger on the counter behind them, which meant she could truly observe him.
He's not unattractive at all. His long hair messily falling over his forehead, his strong jawline still visible under his neatly kept beard. She wondered what his body looked like underneath his clothes. He'd always looked quite fit to her, something she'd attributed to his strict workout routine as a footballer. Still, his arms were muscular too, biceps twisting and veins twirling underneath his skin as he kept drawing invisible shapes on the counter surface. She just wanted to reach out and caress his biceps, the unholy thoughts filling her mind as she kept eyeing him from beside him. If he wasn't such an ass, maybe she would've wanted to pursue something with him. Maybe.
"You admiring the art, babe?" He questioned as if on cue, stilling his movements to look at her with a curious smile on his stupidly pretty face.
"God, you're so fucking full of yourself." She spat back as she rolled her eyes in annoyance, turning her focus away from him. He started to lean closer to her side, his arm snaking around her as his scruff teasingly rubbed against her cheek.
"You love it, really." He whispered lowly in her ear. The drop in his voice made her shiver, clenching her legs together. She cursed herself for letting him have this kind of effect on her, and so she composed herself as she took a tentative step away from him.
"I don't. But I'd love if you went to bother those girls instead. Maybe I can have some fun watching you flirt." She held her fingers up, moving them to indicate quotation marks at the last word as she threw him a fake smile.
"I'd rather argue with you, than kiss someone else." He replied matter-of-factly.
"Really, now?" She perked.
"Yeah." His voice sounder hoarse and rough, no effort in concealing the feelings currently coarsing through him. He raised his bottle of beer to take a sip, licking his lips before wrapping them around the bottle. She had a perfect view from beside him, seeing his adam's apple bop as he swallowed, the light perfectly illuminating his plump and moist lips that turned into a smirk as soon as he set the bottle down again. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. Unfortunately for him, she could play that game, too.
So she took a daring step closer to him, resting her hand on his bicep that was definitely more defined than she previously imagined. She stood on her toes, reaching to whisper in his ear, her lips 'accidentally' grazing over his earlobe.
"Your little teasing makes me think youd rather kiss me too." She whispered seductively.
He didn't even reply, just grabbed her face to pull her into a kiss. He wouldn't have even thought of doing that half an hour ago, but now that she was teasing him, too, he figured it's what she wanted as well. Which is why he was so shocked when she pushed at his chest, her brows furrowed as her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Gross, Ben, have some decency." She scolded him. Truth is, she was much too aware of the other people in the room, not sure what they would make of their little predicament. Besides, if he started kissing her now, she wasn't so sure she could contain herself any longer. What's this boy done to you?
"C'mon, you can't deny what's between us. We're perfect for each other." He tried to reason with her, reaching out for her hands that she quickly moved out of reach from him. Was he really this oblivious, or was she just playing with him?
"I can actually." She smiled triumphantly at him as she pushed herself away from the counter. "And I don't believe in perfect."
"Y/N." He warned.
"Benjamin." She daringly spoke back, biting her bottom lip as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. So, playing, then.
"You're insufferable."
"So are you." She said as she walked away from him, back to the hallway and opening his frontdoor, he was calling out after her, wondering if he really fucked up for her to be leaving now. She turned on her heel just as she stepped outside, looking right back at him with fiery eyes. He leaned against the doorway to look at her. He wasn't sure he trusted his legs to hold him up when she was looking at him like that.
"I don't kiss before the first date." He smiled at that. If he wasn't intrigued by her quick comebacks and arguing, he sure was now. She was playing his game, and she was winning, too. Though he tried his hardest not to show her.
"So go on a date with me." He deadpanned as he nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders.
"Actually, I don't date footballers."
"Fuck you." He let out a laugh, then. One that vibrated throughout his chest.
"Maybe if you ask nicely." She added as she beamed at him, throwing him a wink. He tried to think of something to say, anything. But he was left a stammering mess, eyes wide at her explicit remark as she spun around and started walking the short distance back to hers. She had just swiftly shut him up, something not many people had the gift of doing. He was glad she didn't spare him another glance, because he was sure the angelic laugh that would erupt from her lips would cause his crimson cheeks to burn even harder. Damn him and his stupid games.
Damn her and her ability to see right through them.
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hops-hunny · 3 years
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You Can Be the Boss
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Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 2.2k
Request: N/A but it’s based off of this rambling here
Summary: Women are beautiful, but they sure don’t make ‘em like her.
Warnings: Weed, Alcohol, Mentions of sex.
A/N: I wrote this to cope with the copious amounts of work I had due but I finished it all so now we celebrate!
Hogwarts had many things but one thing it lacked severely was normality. Not that it was a problem, nobody who attended Hogwarts was normal but it didn’t stop a portion of muggle born students from feeling a bit homesick to things their muggle friends did at their own schools. That’s how the talent shows started. At first, the students tried to get it officiated by the school. Dumbledore thought it was a wonderful idea!....if it was professor supervised and when it turned out that Snape was the only professor with enough freetime on his hands, the idea of having it being school ran quickly flew out the window. But looking back on it now, many were happy they went with the idea of going behind the professors backs. It wasn’t like they weren’t aware, they just had no proof of it all happening. The atmosphere of the talent shows were different from ordinary talent shows, however.
For starters, anything went. Any talent you had you were encouraged to bring it no matter how big or small it was or if it was “school appropriate”. But the pro to this was also booze and bud, meaning that everyone had a good time no matter what. Although, as it would turn out there were many talented people at Hogwarts. So, for the past few months every Friday everyone would gather in the room of requirement, watching the many ups and downs of performances. Neville started frequenting there as often as he could. It was a win-win, his friends got free entertainment and he had a chance to make some money from selling to chumps with too much cash on their hands. What better way was there to spend the night? 
His hazel eyes snapped up at the feeling of his blunt being ripped out of his hand. He went to swear, glaring at whoever was stupid enough to do that but quickly stopped as he saw who it was. He watched with wide eyes as the tip of it went between her pretty (l/c) lips, exhaling smoke. (Y/n) (L/n). She was one of those girls you either knew or you didn’t but more than likely, you knew her. Before 5th year, no one so much as spared her a glance but after a very fortunate late puberty in their current year (7th) she was slowly becoming all anyone could talk about. It was truly amazing what a haircut and a bit of weight in your hips could do for your social life. He eyed her curiously as she looked down at him.
“You comin’ tonight?” she asked, exhaling another puff of smoke into his face. (Y/n) put the joint back in his hand, moving the heavy guitar case into her now free hand.
“Yeah. ‘Spose I am.” He mumbled, eyes trailing down the expanse of her plush thighs. They were on full display due to the skirt she wore that left nothing to the imagination. His eyes locked with her (e/c) ones as she hummed, nodding as she took the blunt back from him walking off. She flashed him a smile once more, winking as she turned the corner going merlin knows where.
“Oi! What does she think she’s doing? You really gonna let her take the blunt from you like that just because she’s fit?” Ron complained, glaring at the boy who was set with the rest of their group. Neville shrugged, turning his eyes back to his book as he turned the page.
“If you’re so bothered by it why don’t you go take it back yourself?” Neville sassed. They all looked at Ron waiting for a response, laughing as he had nothing to say but a small ‘piss off’ under his breath.
-----------------------------------------
Neville wasn’t one to put too much into his appearance. He’d usually just throw on a sweater vest over one of his uniform shirts and call it a day. However after the conversation he had had with (Y/n) earlier, he couldn’t help but wanna look nice. Was she flirting with him? He sighed as he glanced at his appearance in the mirror for a bit. ‘I doubt it.’ he thought. He shook the negative thoughts out of his head, packing his satchel with a few different strains. Just because some pretty girl was batting her pretty little eyes at him didn’t mean he was going to forget the reason he went to these things in the first place. The only other time Neville made this much money was Gryffindor common room parties and even then, it was only by a little.
But even as he was checking his appearance once again, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift. “Why am I wigging out? It’s not like we haven’t talked before.” He said out loud to himself. (Y/n) was a frequent buyer from him and even though he didn’t know her personally, she was one of the few people whose faces he remembered. At first, he was extremely annoyed by her. Who did she think she was showing up at his dorm at 3AM just to buy a bit of fucking jane? Every wednesday at the same time, she’d show up at his door (in a negligee that was far too short might he add) with that dopey look on her face asking to buy. And every single time without a doubt, he’d sell it to her. He had to admit, after a while he even started to enjoy the girl’s appearance. It gave him something to look forward to during his mundane school week.
“Ready to go, Nev? If we leave now, we can use a secret passage my brothers’ showed me.” Ron said, opening the door to Neville’s door. The lanky boy cleared his throat, giving the boy a nod as he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. Without another word, they both began their way ready for the night to unfold.
As usual, the talent show didn’t disappoint...for all the wrong reasons. Even though the cringe worthy performances were top notch entertainment and he had already made quite a bit of money, he still couldn’t stop from searching the crowd for a certain head of (h/c) hair. Where was she? After the stunt she had pulled earlier, he was sure she would be here. She had some nerve doing that and then not showing up. However, as he turned his gaze back to the stage, he saw the woman of the hour herself. She was in an oversized crochet sweater dress and a pair of combat boots. His eyes looked up in wonder as she took the stage, sitting on a wooden stool that was placed from the last sad excuse of a performance.
“It’s a bloody shame that she’s so fucking hot. Poor thing is going to embarrass herself singing up there.” Ron said, taking a sip from the beer he had in his hand. Neville nodded in agreement, taking a hit from his blunt but not really paying mind to his friend. It was hard to do so when the girl of his dreams was on the stage a mere foot away from him. He was absolutely intoxicated by her (and the few shots he had taken a bit ago) but he had to agree it would suck when she-”
“You taste like the fourth of July
Malt liquor on your breath, my, my”
She sang into the microphone softly. Neville’s jaw dropped in awe at the sound of her voice which was nothing short of angelic. He wasn’t the only one who was stunned considering the whole crowd went silent, a stark contrast from the loud chatter and laughter from before. He watched as she strummed at the guitar in her hands, looking up from the ground into the crowd. Mesmerized wasn’t even the right word to describe the state he was in. 
“I love you but I don’t know why…”
His eyes were focused on her lips, taking in every word she said. Harry nudged him, mouthing the words ‘look up’ to him as a small pause had come into the song. Neville looked at him confused before trailing his eyes up, gasping when he saw that hers were locked on his own. She smiled and flashed him a wink before continuing her song, leaning in forward. His own body began to subconsciously drift forward to but at the last second she pulled away and continued to sing.
"Did you see that? She definitely wants me." Seamus boasted confidently. The others looked at him dumbfounded at the fact he could get even more idiotic than ever before.
"Don't be fucking dumb mate! She was clearly looking at me." Ron chimed in, causing another round of even more exasperated looks to be thrown the ginger's way. They truly were dumb and dumber.
"I-I think both of you are wrong. (Y/n) was looking at.." Harry trailed off as the girl stood up, dancing around the stage with her guitar as she continued to sing. Not a single pair of eyes weren't on her at the moment. Could you blame anyone? When a beautiful girl with the voice of a siren is on stage, you'd be a fool not to. However, dumb and dumbers’ argument ceased as she made very clear eye contact with their awkward friend.
“You can be the boss, daddy
You can be the boss”
“That’s all me boys.” Neville said, a triumphant smirk taking over his place as Dean leaned over to give him a fist bump. As much as (Y/n) had him wrapped around her finger, it appeared she was wrapped around his too. All the angry glares being sent his direction were only fuel to the pride he felt growing in his chest. Such a pretty girl, the same pretty girl who plagued all his wet dreams and shower thoughts, was not only on stage singing in front of him, but directly to him as well. She reached a hand forward, tips of her fingers lightly brushing against his flushed cheeks.
“I like you a lot, I like you a lot
Don’t let it stop”
“This is totally unfair. One of the hottest chicks in our year and she’s pining over Longbottom.” Seamus grumbled, grimacing as the liquor went down his throat hard. Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
“Jealous much?” he asked no one in particular, as that could be said about most of the guys they were sitting with.
“Bad to the bone, sick as a dog
You know that I like, like you a lot
Don’t let it stop”
Neville felt his own lips curl up into a smile at the sight of the one that belonged to the angel in front of him. However the cute moment didn’t last long cause once again, Ron chimed in with something else.
“Neville? Bad? He still sleeps in pajama sets!” he exclaimed quietly, earning a ‘shh!’ from Harry. The boy in question leaned forward, looking at his ginger friend.
“Is this really coming from the boy who needs Mummy’s howler to fall asleep at night?” that shut him right up. Harry snorted, high fiving him for bringing up the embarrassing piece of information. 
The girl continued to sing, eyes never leaving Neville’s for a second. Ron and Seamus’s petty comments had ceased as well. Even though they weren’t the one receiving attention, they could still admit the girl had pipes on her. When the song was over she stood up, bowing as the silence of the crowd quickly erupted in cheers and claps from the breathtaking performance. There were a few more people left but no one paid much mind to them. He found himself feeling bad for them. Even if they were good, none of them could top the performance of the night. 
As the night began to come to a close, (Y/n) found herself over to Neville again parking herself in his lap which he gladly accepted. She looked up at him, smiling shyly. It was almost comedic due to the words she had so sinfully sung to him only 45 minutes ago. Neville ignored the way his friends gawked at him. He’d deal with that another time.
“Come back to my room and split a spliff?” she asked, looking down as she picked at her fingers. He grabbed her hands, leaning in close to her.
“Only if I can eat your pussy afterwards.” he said confidently. He said it quiet enough to not draw attention but just loud enough that his friends would hear. (Y/n) felt her face grow warm as she nodded, hopping up from his lap as she dragged him off to her room.
Neville 1, blokes 0.
Extra:
“Seriously?! Is it really that easy? What does he have that I don’t?” Seamus said, mind running over the times he’d attempted saying things like that. The only place it had gotten him was on the ground after he had his balls kicked!
“It’s gotta be the weed. After all, who wouldn’t wanna sleep with the weed man? Free pot!” Ron exclaimed, trying to rationalize what had just happened.
“Aren’t you the residential booze man of Hogwarts? If that was the case, you’d have an easier time with women too.” Dean said, causing Harry to nod in agreement. Ron simply grumbled, slamming his empty bottle down as he walked off from the cackling group of blokes.
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parachutingkitten · 3 years
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The Samurai Swap
Chapter 1: Nya's Problem - In which Nya and Pixal make a very large mistake.
TW: gore
“I am Samurai X.”
The smile beamed from her newly revealed face, now finally able to see her friends without the filter of a mask. Several arms instinctively surrounded her, the first of which being Jay’s, the second of which was Zane’s and a few more that she wasn’t able to identify in all the commotion.
“I knew it was you!” Jay broke away, now excitedly jumping. “I didn’t say it, but I had a hunch!”
“Yeah right,” Cole rolled his eyes, offering her a high five, which she gladly took.
“You look brilliant!” Her father smiled, taking her hand. “Brand new body and everything! It looks fantastic!”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Zane asked, his arms still wrapped around her.
“I didn’t want you to worry about me.” She nervously shrugged.
“Worry about you? You totally saved our butts on more than one occasion this week.” Lloyd broke in. “As far as I’m concerned, you can be the new Master.”
“Temporary Master Pixal, in training!” Kai added, hitting her in the arm.
“Yeah, yeah, this is great and all,” Nya sighed, speaking from behind the crowd. “But what about Wu? We lost him in the time stream. We have no idea where he could be.”
The whole group’s tone shifted, the energy being sucked away in less than a second.
“If I know my uncle, he’ll be alright,” Lloyd assured her. “Wherever he is, whenever he is, he’ll find his way.”
Silence stayed with the team a moment before Cole finally stepped forward.
“Lloyd’s right! We lost a friend today, but we also gained one back. Sensei would want us to do what he taught us and keep moving forward.”
“Hear, hear!” Jay cheered him on.
“And I think we start with this.” Lloyd picked up the reversal blade, its orange glow illuminating the faces all around. “We need to get rid of it. It’s far too powerful, and we don’t know the extent of its abilities. I say we put it back in the boiling sea. You think you two can handle that?” He glanced up at Kai and Nya as they exchanged a look.
“We did it once, didn’t we?” Kai chuckled.
“Good.” Lloyd agreed. “Then we leave first thing in the morning, and we take shifts guarding it tonight. I don’t want to take any chances, not after everything that’s happened.”
“But aside from that…?” Jay broke in.
Lloyd sighed. “But aside from that, everyone deserves to celebrate. You’ve earned it.”
Cheers went up throughout the group, Zane squeezing Pixal just a bit tighter, before finally letting go.
“I missed you so much,” he whispered.
“Zane,” Pixal smiled. “I’ve only been out of your systems for a couple of days.”
Zane took both her hands, bringing them to his chest. “I missed you.”
Her smile softened, her hands gripping his. “...so did I.”
“Pixal!” Kai’s voice came barreling into their vicinity. “I should have known it was you! You’re just as annoyingly perfect in costume as you are out of it!”
Pixal chuckled, pulling out of Zane’s grasp.
“And hey,” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t think of anyone better to replace my sis.”
“You don’t remember what it’s like having both of us on the same com link, do you?” Pixal smirked.
“I am choosing to ignore that right now and assume that the stupidity that used to happen just… won’t happen now.” Kai smiled blissfully.
“You’re right, it’s been what, 5 years since the jet fuel incident? I’m sure we’ve both matured immensely since then.” Pixal winked.
“I make no promises.”
“Hey guys!” Jay’s voice called out to them. “Let’s get back to the bounty! Zane’s making cake to celebrate!”
“I am?” Zane called back.
“You are now!” Cole waved them over as the group headed for the ship. “Come on!”
“I guess I’m making cake now.” Zane sighed, resigned to his fate as they began moving.
“Oh! Can you do your cream cheese frosting?” Kai asked.
“I suppose,” Zane shrugged. “Pixal, you have any requests?”
“I like your cream cheese frosting.” She smiled.
“Cream cheese it is then.”
Pixal’s smile faded, one of her hands still linked with Zane’s as the group quietly continued forward. Everything should be right with the world now that her identity was off her chest. This weight that she’d been holding onto should be gone now - but something felt off. She couldn’t pinpoint what, but there was still some unsatisfied strain of tension left within her. Her eyes instinctively wandered, looking for what it was that was out of place before it struck her.
“Kai, you really think Nya’s okay with… me?” she asked.
He looked at her puzzled. “Yeah, why wouldn’t she be?”
“I don’t know,” Pixal sighed. “I’m taking over one of her creations, it’s strange that she didn’t really address it when I revealed myself.”
“Don’t worry about it!” Kai shrugged it off. “You’ve definitely proven you can take care of Samurai X, and I’m sure she’s excited to have another girl on the team.”
“You’re right, I’m probably just in my head about it,” Pixal shook her head, this nagging feeling persisting with her. Nya hadn’t really acknowledged her while she was code, seemed to antagonize the new samurai X she had created, and hadn’t even attempted to pass on good will to her after she had revealed herself. Her brother approached her before she did.
Something had to be bothering her.
---
“Who is she again?” Ray asked.
“Part of Zane's brain that decided she wanted to be a real girl.” Nya grumbled, taking a swig of milk.
“Zane's old girlfriend who got stuck as code inside his head,” Jay clarified. “So, it was like two brains in one body. Which, I don't know if that's like the ultimate relationship status, or a terrifying hellscape I never want to experience, but either way, it worked for them for like… what, 5 years now?”
“Yeah… I'm still not sure I get it,” Ray shrugged.
“Well, she seems nice!” Maya smiled. “Have you talked to her much? Maybe you could give her a crash course in Samurai X or something.”
“No mom, I’m not really in the habit of training people who try and replace me.” Nya sighed, lifting her glass to take with her as she moved away from her parents and the rest of the celebration taking place inside.
Everything about this felt wrong. This new Samurai X had certainly surprised her when they first appeared but knowing who it was somehow made it worse. Seeing her creation be appropriated by someone else, put it on like a cheap costume as the whole team celebrated, it didn’t sit well with her.
“What’s your problem today?” Jay’s voice came from behind her. “You saved all of space time, is that not enough for you?”
Nya sighed, leaning back on the wall. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a problem. I’m completely problem-less.”
Jay paused a moment, joining her on the wall, and following her line of sight. “You know, Pix is a really great person.”
“It’s just not right.” She grumbled. “I don’t even know her!”
“Well, maybe that’s your fault.” He gently suggested. “She’s been living with us for years now.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t been living with her.” Nya sat up. “It’s like she’s been spying on us, quietly observing us, collecting information before popping up again. Isn’t that off putting to you? You’re gonna sit here and tell me that’s not the least bit suspicious?”
“Yeah, it is.” Jay shrugged. “And it would probably make a great plot for a horror movie or something, but this isn’t a movie, this is real life. And that’s a real person over there, who obviously looks up to you. So maybe, just maybe, you should at least go over and talk to her.”
Nya’s gaze turned again to Pixal, slowly transforming into a glare as she thought, all her emotions still furiously stirring inside her.
“No one’s guarding the blade.” She turned to Jay again, holding out her drink. “I’m gonna go watch it for a bit.”
Jay looked at the milk, disappointed. “Nya, honey-”
“Jay, darling.” She pressed, her words now forceful as she gestured the cup towards him again.
Jay sighed, taking it. “Yeah okay.”
And with that, she was gone. Down the hall, and towards the time blade, away from her problem still chatting away in the living room. Jay meandered back to the kitchen, setting down the glass in a pensive defeat.
“You get her out of her funk yet?” Maya asked.
“No,” Jay shook his head, ideas still churning in his mind. “...Not yet anyway.”
---
Pixal could tell that her presence wasn’t welcome the moment she stepped through the door. It wasn’t a great feeling, but it wasn’t a new one either.
“Everything okay in here?” She asked, scanning the room, her eyes lingering on the glow of the reversal blade sitting in its center.
Nya stared at her for a moment, puzzled. “…Yeah.” Her answer was hesitant and questioning. “Who sent you in here?”
“Jay” Pixal answered, still hugging the wall.
“Of course he did.” Nya sighed. “Look, I’m fine in here, you can go back to your party or whatever. I’m sure you’ve already missed like five people telling you how great you are.” Nya rolled her eyes, shifting as they lingered on the blade, waiting for her to leave.
Despite Nya’s insistence, Pixal remained in the room, her eyes narrowing. She was sick of this. Sick of the dismissive tone, and the constant avoidance. She was a real person, with real feelings, and certainly had more reverence for the Samurai X title than Nya ever had. She deserved some respect, and she wasn’t about to let this fickle, arrogant, lowlife deny it from her.
“Did I do something to you?”
“What?” Nya’s attention snapped back to her.
“It’s just, you’ve been really cold to me, and I can’t think of a single good reason why.” She took a few steps further into the room, Nya standing to match her.
“Well, for starters, you stole my stuff, I thought that much would be obvious.”
“It’s not exactly like you were using it.” Pixal crossed her arms.
“It’s my tech!” Nya tensed up, her voice raising quickly. “I made it! I built the cave! It’s my stuff!”
“Yeah, and it was covered in dust, broken down, and abandoned!” Pixal waved her off. “You clearly didn’t care about it anymore.”
Nya pressed her tongue against her teeth for a moment, attempting to stifle her anger. “I made Samurai X with my own two hands-”
“And you forgot about it the moment you became a ninja.” Pixal cut her off. “Are you really going to stand here and criticize me for saving lives?”
“No, but you’re certainly not the best person to be doing it.” Her tone was increasingly accusatory. “I mean, you’ve essentially been a ghost person for years, and now you suddenly want to be put in charge of, not only your own body, but my legacy, and countless innocents? I don’t think so. That’s something you have to earn!”
“Oh, like you earned your powers?” Pixal mocked her.
“Like I earned my place on the team,” Nya corrected her. “Which you clearly haven’t.”
Pixal laughed in defiance. “Five years of dealing with your crap, saving your lives countless times, without as much as a voice isn’t enough for you?!”
“I don’t trust you.” Nya shrugged. “It’s as simple as that. And you think I’m supposed to just hand over my life’s work to you?”
“No, you’re supposed to pass it on,” Pixal pressed. “But you were too lazy to even do that.”
“I don’t know you!” Nya screamed. “I don’t know anything about you!”
“Yeah, well, I do,” Pixal snapped. “And maybe I should have thought twice before attaching my legacy to yours.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?!”
“You know what, you don’t really seem in the right frame of mind to be watching the time blade.” Pixal shook her head.
“Well, I think we’ve established that you’re not exactly qualified to watch it either,” Nya sneered.
Both of their eyes darted to the blade and back, their status quo hanging in the air for a moment. And in an instant, both of them were scrambling towards it. Nya’s hands reached the blade first, with Pixal getting a hold quickly after, the two of them now stuck in a tug of war over the weapon.
“Let go!” Nya screamed, her grip quickly slipping from the edge of the handle she had a hold of towards the blade.
“You first!” Pixal demanded, readjusting her own grip.
“You stupid second rate knock off, just give it to me!”
“Not a chance, you-” Pixal stopped short, the glow from the from the blade growing increasingly brighter.
“What the hell?” Nya’s grip softened for a moment, both of them concerned about the light.
Pixal seized the opportunity, yanking the blade forward, Nya’s hands slipping down, and Pixal’s hands moving up, both towards the glowing blade of the weapon.
“WAIT-!”
But before either of them could stop their momentum, the room was consumed in the orange light, a pulse of energy going through them both. Neither could tell exactly what happened in the moment, but one thing was clear to the both of them:
Something had gone very, very wrong.
And it was definitely their fault.
---
It was cold.
An unearthly, deathly, sort of supernatural cold. It wasn’t just surrounding her, but actively extracting heat from her core. She had never felt anything like it before.
It was dark.
She waited for her eyes to adjust, but they never did. It was pitch black in all directions, no trace of light anywhere.
Nya sat up, a pounding echoing in her head as she tapped around, trying to discern her surroundings. She instinctively recoiled as her hand hit something… wet. It wasn’t water, it was thicker. Smoother between her fingers. Stickier to the touch.
What was this?
Where was she?
She listened for anything that might help her determine her situation. It wasn’t completely silent. There was a definite mechanical hum in the space, and… was it… getting louder?
Suddenly, A bright flash of light illuminated the space, almost like lightning, but brighter and more artificial. And for a brief moment she could see her surroundings, still dark, cold, and mechanical, but there was only one thing she really processed.
Her corpse.
Her own limp, disjointed, misshapen corpse hanging on the wall in front of her. The throat was slit, a stream of blood running down her chest, meeting with the sword sent through her center, affixing her to the wall behind. All of it formed a river of blood, trickling down the walls, and trailing onto the floor.
The flash of light came again as she stared at her hand, untouched by the blood she had so clearly felt between her fingers.
What the hell happened?
Where the hell was she?
And if she was here…
Where was Pixal?
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It Was You (Part Three)
A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?
Surprise! I know it’s late (at least by my standards), but ta-da! Part Three a day early!
Read Part One here, and part two here.
A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo​​. This chapter and others will fill the square of ‘fake dating’, and this one specifically fills ‘Christmas Pajamas’. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 2790
Series Warnings: angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff.
I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.
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You pushed the image of his wink from your mind as you finished up breakfast while Jensen called Stacy and set up a meeting for the three of you. She sounded particularly excited that he had taken her advice, and more so that you were on board. You spent the rest of the morning goofing off with each other as you normally would, singing along to the radio while you cleaned up from your meal and resting a bit before your meeting. When you decided to hop in the shower, Jensen retreated to his own apartment to freshen up.
You dressed for the cold weather once again, opting for a pair of dark wash jeans and boots with thick socks underneath. You layered yourself with a sweater and your peacoat, opting for a scarf and gloves to shield yourself from the cold, but left your hair down to cover your ears as best it could.
Jensen returned to your apartment about an hour after he’d left before escorting you to his SUV in the garage to shlep you across town to Stacy’s office, where she met you with a warm smile. You’d met her plenty of times before, as Jensen considered her a friend after working with her for so many years.
“Y/n, it’s so great to see you again. You look beautiful.” She gushed, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. “And may I just say, you’re making my job a lot easier today.” She added with a breathy laugh.
She welcomed you and Jensen to take a seat opposite from her at her desk before diving right into the semantics. It was pretty simple – you and Jensen were to start posting even more on social media, even suggesting that you share some old pictures of the two of you from your childhood to reinforce your story. She was okay with Jensen’s suggestion of not announcing a relationship explicitly and said the gossip would be enough to keep up the facade of the two of you being together. Her next idea, though, made you shift a bit in your chair.
“I would love it if we could get some paparazzi shots of the two of you with some PDA at some point. Nothing explicit, of course. Maybe just some hand holding or something, you know, to get the fires going.” She proposed flippantly as she shuffled some papers on her desk.
After you shared a look with Jensen, he shrugged and simply replied, “We’ll see what we can do.”
“Alright, then. Jensen, I’m going to ask you this as this is your decision, but do you feel we need to sign a non-disclosure agreement with Y/n? Normally, I would insist, but seeing as you two are such good friends, I’m not going to.”
Jensen waved his hands, “Not necessary. I trust Y/n with my life, so there’s really no need. She’d never do anything that would warrant one.”
You reassured her as well, “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt his career, no matter what. We trust each other to handle this appropriately.”
Stacy seemed satisfied as she nodded and stood to straighten her black blazer, “Well, I think that covers my end of everything. I do think this’ll help. Granted, Jensen is an agent’s dream when it comes to image, really. He’s scandal-free and always has been, but the bachelor title can be weary in the eyes of a casting director at times, particularly for the role of a young father. I’ll keep pushing forward with communications with the producer and I’ll call you when I hear something.”
She reached over her desk as you and Jensen stood from your chairs and shook both of your hands before showing you out and wishing you a good day. As you left her office, Jensen placed his hand on the small of your back. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before numerous times, but when he left it there as you walked down the sidewalk to the parking area, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was just for show now.
....................
The next week was spent in relative normality. You and Jensen spent time together, as you always did, but now being sure to post more frequently to social media. Jared popped over early in the week before his flight back home to Texas so you could fill him in, since if anyone needed to be “in” on the charade, it was him. He’d be the first one calling Jensen if he’d heard any rumors, so he was thankful to be included and happy that it was you and not someone else. Jared understood, for the most part, and empathized with how difficult management could be at times.
“You guys can definitely sell that chemistry you’ve always had, so I think it will work.” Jared shrugged, but you didn’t miss the implication of your shared chemistry with Jensen, causing you to take a long sip of your water as he continued. “I’m not sure how they would’ve suckered some rando into faking it with this guy.” He teased, making Jensen huff in amusement and shove him lightly.
Giggling from your seat in Jensen’s apartment, you delighted in witnessing their brotherly bickering.
Jared stood from the chair at Jensen’s island to bid his farewells, “Well, y’all let me know if I can help in any way. My flight leaves at 5, so I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you guys next week.”
Yours and Jensen’s flight back together to Austin wasn’t until a few days before Christmas and Jared wanted to get home a bit earlier. The two of you would see Jared at his Christmas party before making your way to Dallas, where your families still lived. Jared and Jensen shared a quick hug before Jared scooped you up in his arms, pulling you tightly into his chest, “Now you let me know if I need to kick his ass for anything, you hear me?” he whispered in your ear.
Another laugh escaped you as you poked his side before he gave you a quick peck on the cheek and made for the door, waving as he exited. 
“Alrighty.” Jensen exclaimed, clasping his hands together after he saw Jared off, “I’ve got some plans for us tonight.”
You settled in front of him, gazing up at him with a questioning squint, “Do you now? Do I get to be privy to that information?”
“You sure do. C’mon, let’s go.”
He whisked you out of the door quickly after helping you into your coat. You walked with your arm linked in his, the gesture completely natural at this point in your lives, down the bustling streets of downtown Vancouver as you window shopped and grabbed some coffee at the café before he pulled you to your next stop, the artisanal bakery that made your favorite treats. He grabbed all the necessary ingredients to make hot chocolate and pushed you from counter to counter instructing you to grab whatever your heart desired.
“Tonight, we are cooking an amazing dinner of spaghetti – and yes, before you even ask, I’m making my grandmother’s sauce – and then, we’re getting in our most festive pj’s and having another Christmas movie marathon as we shove our faces full of cookies. Sound like a deal?”
You nudged him with your hip as the basket swung from your arm, “Ackles, you’re a man after my own heart, aren’t you?”
Grabbing a bag of chocolate covered truffles from behind you, he threw them into your basket with a grin, “I’m just trying to woo you, Y/n. Should I be so lucky.”
If only he knew.
After spending way too much on chocolate, decadent candies and other treats, you went back to your apartment to grab your Christmas pajamas that were given to you as a gift last year from Jensen’s parents. They had made the whole family dress up in matching sets for their annual Christmas eve dinner with both of your families, and it made for the most relaxed evening as you all gathered around their outdoor fire-pit for dinner instead of the formal table setting you’d experienced in so many years past as it was a tradition for both sides, with Jensen’s and your parents alternating hosting each year. The pajamas were red and had snowflakes all over them and you decided to grab your polar bear bootie slippers from your closet to bring also. You changed quickly and pulled an oversized shawl around your shoulders before creeping back down the hallway, praying that one of your neighbors didn’t peak out to see a grown woman rushing down the hall in snowflake jammies.
Letting yourself back into Jensen’s apartment, you heard a loud chuckled as soon as you shut the door. He had emerged from the short hallway that led to his bedroom wearing his pair of the same print, but he was barefoot.
“Great minds, huh?” he quipped with a wide smile, still laughing as he ventured into the kitchen.
The two of you made dinner together and ate at his island, talking about all of your family’s traditions for this time of year and gushing about how much you were looking forward to being home for the holiday. You’d head straight to Jared and Gen’s home in Austin from the airport and spend the night there so that you could attend their holiday party and drive to Dallas the next day. You were so excited to see your family, and Jensen’s. They were sort of a package deal, becoming one large family over the years. You adored his parents, and always had. His home was your escape and yours was his, and each set of parents treated the two of you as one of their own. You’d spent many nights having dinner with the Ackles’ and he had a standing invitation at your table, courtesy of both of your parents and your sister. She was fiercely protective of both of you, taking to Jensen as if he was her little brother since he was born. In fact, the shared family tradition of Christmas Eve dinner began because she was afraid that you would miss Jensen too much if you went a few days without seeing him. She threw an enormous fit one evening when you started to cry, and she had it in her mind that it was because you weren’t with your best friend. You were only three, and at the time your sister was six years old, and so the tradition came to last. You would gather together, eat, and open gifts with everyone piled into a small space to exchange. This year, they had elected to do a secret Santa and you were lucky enough to draw Jensen’s mom.
You each finished up your meals and cleaned up the kitchen before plopping down on his large, u-shaped sectional that faced his entertainment center that house a huge TV and showcased his DVDs, record player and collection of albums and 45’s. You were fortunate to live in the same apartment complex as he did, though Jensen’s paychecks were obviously a bit larger than yours. He had refused to allow you to be in a separate building from him when you moved from Texas to Vancouver, so he found one that was secure enough for someone with a bit of fame but wasn’t too overpriced that you couldn’t afford it on your salary. He even offered to pay a portion of your rent to ensure he wouldn’t be too far away, but thankfully this building had worked out for both of you. It had a doorman and was as secure as it could be, so you took the one-bedroom apartment on the same floor as Jensen’s two bedroom. His was larger, but you had a better view in your opinion.
He had set up all of your bounty from the bakery on the coffee table and made a bowl of popcorn, your steaming mugs of hot chocolate nestled between all of the goods.
“C’mere.” He gestured, encouraging you to curl into his side.
He pulled his cell from underneath his leg and snapped a few photos of the two of you smiling for the camera. Then, he grabbed a handful of popcorn and held it to his mouth, taking another picture with it spilling from every corner and cascading toward his lap as you laughed at his funny expression. His eyes were wide as he made a ridiculous face, but it was always one of your favorite sides of him. He had many, to be sure, but that man could make your sides hurt with laughter at any point in time when he was simply carefree and looking to be a jokester. It was one of the many things you loved about him – his ability to make you laugh like no one else could, but he was also the sweetest man you’d ever met. You settled back into your spot underneath his arm, taking the bowl from his hands as he tossed his phone on the cushion next to him and picked up a few stray pieces of popcorn, tossing one at you. You threw it back, but he caught it and pitched it into his mouth with a victorious grin. You rolled your eyes playfully before munching on some yourself. He laid his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, pressed his lips to your hairline and kissing you on the side of your head.
“You should’ve taken that picture… that would’ve gone over well.” You half joked.
He raised an eyebrow in your direction with an inquisitive glint, “You think? Should we do it?”
Shrugging, you nodded indifferently. Again, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary that you were doing, but it would make people talk, so he grabbed his phone once more and repeated the kiss. This time, you smiled but didn’t look directly at the camera, letting your eyes flutter closed until he pulled his mouth away. When you looked up at him through your lashes, you heard another click.
Showing you his screen, he thumbed through the few he’d taken, the last two made you suck in a sharp breath. He left his eyes and mouth slightly open and had a huge smile as his lips attached to the crown of your head, the crinkles around his eyes accentuated slightly and he was looking off into the distance. The last one he took made your heart swell. It looked like two people in love, staring into each other’s eyes. You were both smiling but giving each other such looks of adoration that even you would buy it, and you were in on the rouse.
It was easy to be with him. Your relationship was not give and take, but mutual exchange and the type of comfort you can only have after knowing someone for so many years. He knew you in a way no one else ever would, and you had been through every up and down together. When he’d left for L.A. to pursue acting, it hurt all that much more because it felt like that would all be lost. You were grateful that even after those few years, everything fell back into place as soon as you were near each other again. Success and fame hadn’t changed him, at least the him that you got to know. He was still the same man you’d always known and had matured with, the boyish charm he’d always had and the distinguished charisma that he’d grown into combining into who he was today.
He elected to post the first few photos, captioning them #matchingjammies and #nopopcornforyou @y/i/h, looking for your approval and causing you to chuckle against him before he put his phone down once again. “We’ll save the others.” he mentioned casually.
It wasn’t long before you’d picked your way through as many treats as you could, both satisfied that your sweet tooth had been satiated. About halfway through your second movie, you were resting your eyes once again coiled against him, comforted that everything smelled like Jensen.
It wasn’t until the credits rolled of The Grinch that he noticed you were sleeping. Your head was nestled against his chest, with your knees pulled to you tightly and the blanket tucked beneath your chin.
This time, Jensen scooped you up and carried you to his bedroom, holding you close to his chest and ignoring his spare bed down the hall. He pulled back the covers and tucked you beneath them before removing his button up pajama shirt and climbing in himself, leaving him in his pajama pants and a fitted white t-shirt.
He could have woken you up but, frankly, he didn’t want to. Something told him that he couldn’t bear to have you go home to your apartment, not just yet. He wanted another night of sleeping next to you, of holding you close and feeling you beside him. The thought caused him to wonder, even in his sleepy mind, if he could continue to pretend any longer.
To be continued...
…………………………………………………………………………………………
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It was you
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temilyrights · 3 years
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a christmas to remember
Summary: Jack Sloane x Reader. Jack invites you to join her for Christmas after you miss your flight home.
A/N: It’s done. It’s finally done. I don’t think I’ve ever been so stressed out trying to get a fic done. I’ve been feeling pretty rough mentally the last month so writing pure fluff was difficult ahaha. You can all thank @strongsassysexysloane​ for the idea! She’s the one that sent it to me. Sorry it’s a little late but I did manage to get it out before new years so I guess that’s something. 
Read on AO3
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It’s nearing seven o’clock when Jack finishes packing up for the day. Usually, she’d consider that early, but it was Christmas Eve and she’d spent the whole day drowning in paperwork. Last-minute evals for cases and finishing up the yearly NCIS staff review meant she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home and soak in the tub with a glass of wine. She knew Gibbs’ team had closed their case around midday so when she descends the stairs to leave, she’s surprised to see you still at your desk.
She almost misses you. You’re slumped over, head resting on your desk and from the looks of it, you had been asleep for a while. The desk lamp was still on, and a YouTube video was playing from the computer. The case the last few days had been exhausting so she’s not surprised you’re knackered, but she was sure you were meant to be on your way home to see your family.
She stands there for a period of time that should probably be considered creepy, watching your soft mumbles and enjoying the rare sight of you looking so peaceful. She smiles to herself, and then quietly speaks your name, “Y/N.” No response. She gently shakes your arm, “Y/N. It’s time to wake up.”
“Go away,” You mumble, barely conscious.
Jack laughs, and softly strokes your hair, “Come on sleepy head.”
“Breakfast later. I promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” She smirks and steps back. There was an easy way to get you up. “You’re going to be late for work.”
It does the trick. You practically shoot up in your chair. Jack grasps your elbow to steady you as you manically look around the room and catch your bearings. “Huh? What?” Understanding settles in a moment later and a light blush coats your cheeks. “Oh.”
Jack drops your elbow and steps back, chuckling, “I thought I probably shouldn’t leave you to sleep here the entire night.”
“Thanks.” You mumble, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“It was a long case.” She nods in understanding. Jack hadn’t been involved much apart from a couple of evals, but she’d seen how worn down it had left the whole team. She’d been so swamped with her own work she hadn’t had time to check in on anyone. “I thought the team left around lunchtime?”
“They did. I had paperwork to finish.” You shrug and begin packing away your things.
Jack pointedly looks to the paused YouTube video on your computer that definitely wasn’t related to work. “Aren’t you meant to be going to see your family?”
Your face drops, “I missed the flight. Next one out isn’t until the 26th.”
Jack’s sighs, and squeezes your hand, “Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry.” You had been talking about going home all month. You’d told her in detail about the L/N’s family Christmas traditions. She hated the idea you were going to miss out on so much.
“It’s why I’m still here. Didn’t really feel like going home.”
“You could have come and visited me. You know my doors always open to you.” She shakes your hand slightly before letting go.
“I thought you’d already left to be honest.”
“I wish.” She rolls her eyes, “I wanted to get the staff review done.”
You quirk a brow, smirking, “Did I pass?”
She huffs, eyes light with humour, “With flying colours. Apparently, it’s not appropriate to fail someone on account of them being an absolute pain in the ass.”
“Hmm, good thing really, otherwise Gibbs would have been fired years ago.”
You jump out the way before Jack can swat you on the arm. Both of you dissolve into laughter.
“So, what are your plans for tomorrow then?” Jack asks after you’ve calmed down and are making your way to the elevator.
You shrug, “Don’t have any. I’ll just celebrate on the 26th.”
She comes to a halt in disbelief, “You’re not going to go anything?”
“Watch a Christmas film and catch up on all the chores I’ve been neglecting I guess.”
“Nuh-uh. There’s no way you’re spending Christmas day doing chores! Come spend the day with me instead.”
Your mouth drops open, “W-what? I couldn’t-”
“Apart from baking cookies, I don’t have any plans for the daytime. I’m going to Faith’s for dinner, but we can still spend the morning together.”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not intruding. In fact, I'm actually insisting.”
“Jack…”
“Come on, it’ll be fun. Unless you’d rather spend the day being miserable?”
A small smile spreads across your face, and you nod. “Okay.”
“Okay!” Jack grins, jumping on the balls of her feet. “Be at mine at 0800 hours with the breakfast you promised me.” She winks, and steps forward, hitting the button for the elevator.
“Breakfast?” You frown, “When did I promise you breakfast?”
----
“Merry Christmas, Jack!” You grin as she opens her front door.
“Cute hat.” She laughs, stepping back to allow you to enter. She makes sure to flick the white pom-pom on the end of the Santa hat as you pass.
“Thanks.” Jack accepts the bag of diner food, while you take your coat and shoes off. “Sorry, I’m a little late. The diner was busier than I expected. Elaine told me to tell you ‘Merry Christmas’ by the way. I can’t believe you’ve been here the shortest time out of everyone, bar Kasie, and yet somehow you’re her favourite.”
Jack laughs as she makes her way to the kitchen where she already has plates laid out. She begins to dish up the food as you take a seat.  “Not my fault I’m a people person, and anyway Gibbs is her favourite.”
You roll your eyes, “True but second place is bloody impressive considering he’s been around over twenty years and you’ve only been here three.”
Jack hums and takes the seat next to you. “You can just admit you’re jealous.”
“I’m not hiding that fact. I’ve been here for seven years and you don’t see me getting free food.”
“Free?”
“‘Christmas with Jacqueline? How sweet. Coffee's on the house.’” You mimic, taking a sip of said drink.
“So, you got free coffee too?”
You huff, “That’s not the point I’m making.”
Jack laughs, “But it’s the point you made. And anyway, she likes you. She always makes a point to ask me how you’re doing whenever I go in there.”
“And she always asks me about you.” You smile softly and Jack’s heart thumps in her chest.
She clears her throat, dropping her eyes to her food. “Let’s eat. We can spend the rest of the day squabbling over who Elaine likes best if you want but for now, I really want this bacon in my belly before it gets cold.”
You laugh and begin to dig into your own food.
After breakfast is finished and cleared away, you goad Jack into a game of cards. You’re always so cocky and competitive when it comes to games, so she spends the whole time teasing you and trying not to laugh at your serious concentration.
What makes it worse is that she always wins, but it’s not her fault you were ridiculously easy to read. Honestly, for an agent your poker face was terrible.
“Now I've whipped your ass, can we go make cookies?”
“Are you gonna cheat at that too?” You snark as you clean up the cards.
Jack arches a brow as humour dances in her eyes, “Someone’s a sore loser.”
“I’m not a-”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” She leaves you cleaning up and makes her way to the kitchen, ignoring the daggers you were glaring into her back.
----
“Jack?” You call. She hums but doesn’t turn around, too focused on measuring out the ingredients in front of her. She feels you come up behind her, face poking over her shoulder.
“Can I help you?” She chuckles and places the bag of sugar back down. Her breath catches when she turns to look at you. You’re so close, and Jack watches as your eyelashes flutter and can’t help the way her eyes momentarily fall to your lips. She jumps when suddenly you flick flour in her face. She coughs, “What the hell, Y/N!”
You dissolve into laughter, stumbling backwards, and Jack rolls her eyes and wipes the flour from her face. She grabs the bag of flour from the counter before turning to face you with a raised brow, “Oh, you wanna play huh?”
Your face drops, as she saunters over with a devilish smirk. “You wouldn’t dare.” You shake your head, leaning against the wall.
“Try me.” She grabs a pinch of flour and before you can move, flicks it at you.
“Satisfied?” You laugh, wiping it from your cheeks.
“Not even close.” She lifts the flour bag higher and you quickly run out of the way screaming.
“Don’t you dare! You’ll ruin my jumper.”
She wouldn’t but it was fun to make you think so solely to see the panic crossing your face. Although, it would also be a good way of getting you out of your clothes. Jacqueline. She curses herself.
“Fine, but just know this isn’t the end.” She says with a playful glare. You sigh in relief, shoulders slumping slightly as Jack returns the flour to the counter. “Now do you fancy helping me with these cookies?”
You murmur something Jack doesn’t quite catch, and she looks to you with a frown, “What was that?”
“Nothing!” You grin innocently, quickly making your way to the counter, “What can I do to help?”
She stares at you for a moment but decides not to push further. “How about you start mixing everything together while I measure out the remaining ingredients.”
“Yes, boss.” You nod, mock saluting.
Jack flicks flour at you again.
----
“Sorry about that,” Jack says as she enters the living room, returning to her seat next to you on the couch.
You quickly swallow down a mouthful of cookie. Jack refrains from commenting on the fact you’d managed to eat half the plate in the space of a ten-minute phone call. “Is Faith okay?”
The soft smile that always lights up Jack’s face whenever Faith is mentioned appears, “Yes, she was just asking if I could pick some carrots up for this evening. She forgot to get some, and between the hospital and the pregnancy everything has been a little manic.”
“I can only imagine.” You hum.
“She’s also invited you to join us tonight.”
Your face drops in surprise, “What? Really? Why?”
“She said no one should be alone on Christmas, and I agree so please come.”
You chuckle, “I’ve spent the whole day with you. I’m not alone. Anyway, I don’t want to intrude on your time with Faith.”
Jack reaches out and squeezes your hand. “Her fiancé, Andrew, will be there too. It’ll be fun, and you’ll finally get the chance to meet her.” It makes her nervous as hell, but god did she want the two of you to meet each other. You still look uncertain, so her face softens, and she squeezes your hand again, “Please? It would mean a lot to me if you came.”
“You’re sure?”
She nods.
“Okay then.” You agree as your face breaks out into a grin.
Jack grins back and squeezes your hand one last time before letting go. “Yay!”
You chuckle, nodding your head towards the television, “Can we get back to the movie now?”
“Yes.” She sinks back into the couch and grabs the blanket you were currently using, to cover her legs.
“Hey, don’t steal it all.” You protest, already moving closer so the blanket was covering you too.
And, well, if she ends up drifting off at some point, snuggling into your shoulder...neither one of you comment on it.
----
She wasn’t really sure what she’d expected when Faith had invited you to join tonight, but she knows it wasn’t this. She hadn’t dared let herself hope for this…
Because you fit in perfectly. Jack watched as you told Andrew about a case from the other month, he was hanging off every word while Faith tried not to laugh at her fiancé’s expression, instead shooting Jack an affectionate eye-roll from where she sits opposite her.
“So, then Nick comes storming in ready to kick some ass and I’ve already got the three guys on the floor and handcuffed.”
“On your own?” Andrew asks in wonder.
“Well, I mean Gibbs was there too but that’s beside the point.” You huff. Everyone starts laughing. You laugh along too and pick up your wine glass to take a sip.
“This is delicious by the way.” Jack hums, taking another bite of food. Faith and Andrew had made enough food to supply a small army. She had no idea how they’d managed it, especially considering their small kitchen.
“Best Christmas dinner I've had in a long time.” You nod along, as Faith’s cheeks tinge pink from the praise and Andrew smiles brightly.
She chuckles bashfully, “Thank you. It was nothing, really.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, babe. You put in a lot of work for today.” Andrew says, squeezing Faith’s hand from where he sat beside her.
Jack turns to you and is surprised to find you already watching her with a soft smile. Jack frowns slightly, “You okay?” She asks quietly as Faith and Andrew continue talking to each other.
You nod, “I’m good. Great actually. Thank you for letting me join today.”
Her face softens, and she reaches over and gently squeezes your knee, “Thank you for coming. I couldn’t choose a better group of people to share the day with.” 
A light blush covers your cheeks and you quickly duck your head in an attempt to hide it, but Jack catches it. The sight makes her smile more, and she squeezes your knee one more time before letting go and returning to her meal.
After dinner, there’s more wine and a game of charades. Turns out Andrew is amazing, even with alcohol in his system. He and Faith guess the majority of each other’s charades within a minute. Meaning it’s mainly the two of them going back and forth while Jack and you sit on the couch and try to keep up.
“I feel we are at a disadvantage here.” You huff.
“Definitely.” Jack laughs.
“Are you guys ready?” Faith asks as she grabs a piece of paper out of the bowl. She reads the paper, a small smile spreading across her face as she shoves it into her cardigan pocket. “Okay.”
She holds up seven fingers and you and Andrew both instantly shoot up from the couch, shouting in unison, “The lion, the witch, and the wardrobe!”
Faith’s mouth drops open in disbelief, “Yes, but how?”
The competitive glint is back in your eye and Andrew instantly backs away, hands up in surrender, “You can have the go. I’m not arguing with a woman who has a gun.”
“Don’t worry Andrew, she’s all bark and no bite,” Jack smirks. Faith starts laughing as she returns to the lounge chair.
You arch a brow, turning back to face her. “I can bite if you want me to.”
Jack rolls her eyes and takes another sip of wine in hopes that no one will notice the slight pink tinge to her cheeks.
Andrew laughs. “I’m currently in a room with three women that could kill me if they were so inclined, I think I’m going to let you take this one.” He hands you the bowl of paper and moves to take the seat next to Jack.
“Suddenly rethinking your career choice, dear?” Faith laughs.
“Oh no.” He shakes his head, “I’m very happy spending my days counting numbers, thank you very much.”
Jack smothers a laugh when she sees your face scrunch up like it always did when someone mentioned maths. “Andrew, I think you should give Y/N a maths lesson.” She teases. Your head instantly snaps to her, and you send a glare so icy she’s surprised she isn’t frozen in place.
“Oh, I’d happily do that if-”
“No, no, no. Thank you, Andy, but that’s definitely not necessary.” You quickly cut him off.
Andrew chuckles, and nods. “Fair enough. And Jack?”
She hums.
“How many more times do I have to tell you to please call me Andy? Or should I start calling you Jacqueline?”
She laughs and dips her head. “Right, sorry. Andy.” When she looks back up, you’re watching her with twinkling eyes. Jack clears her throat, “Back to charades?”  
----
“Again, thank you so much for inviting us tonight. It’s been amazing.” Jack says as she slips her coat back on.
Faith smiles warmly, “I’m really glad you came, and it was nice to finally meet Y/N.” They both turn to look at you, still excitedly talking to Andrew. “You should bring her with you the next time we do something.”
Jack’s brows raise in shock as she turns back to look at Faith, who’s smirking knowingly. “Really?”
“Yeah. I feel Andy’s probably got another fifty questions he wants to ask about what it’s like being an agent.”
Jack cackles at that, earning her the attention of you.
“What’s so funny?” You ask, coming up to stand beside her, lightly bumping into her side.
“Oh, nothing.” Jack hums innocently. Your eyes narrow and a playful smirk tugs at your lips. Instead of pushing further, you turn to Faith.
“Thank you for including me in your Christmas.”
“It was great to finally meet you.”
“And you. And Andy.” You say, smiling at him as he wraps an arm around Faith’s waist.
“Are you sure we can’t order you a cab?”
You shake your head, grinning, “Nope, It’s all good.”
Jack still doesn’t know why you aren’t. She lived at least a twenty-minute drive away, which meant probably over an hour's walk and there was no way the two of you were doing that this late at night, with alcohol in your system, and when there was a fresh layer of snow outside.
She follows your lead though and links your arms together as you wave goodbye to Faith and Andrew and make your way down their driveway.
“Care to inform me where we are going yet?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” You tease.
Jack shakes her head with a small chuckle and leans in closer to you to protect herself from the frosty air. She’s incredibly grateful she’d been smart enough to remember her gloves, hat, and scarf.
The two of you walk in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the crunch of the snow beneath your feet, and taking in the stars in the sky. You grow tenser as you walk, Jack’s concerned something is wrong until she turns to look at you and finds you grinning.
She’s curious, but ten minutes later her curiosity is answered when you turn onto a street that instantly causes Jack to come to a halt. “Oh wow.” She sighs in wonder. Every house on the street is decorated in bright Christmas lights. It’s breathtaking.
You turn to her with a bright smile, shrugging lightly, “I know you love Christmas lights, and I just wanted to say thank you for today. It has meant everything to me.”
Her eyes flick from the lights to you. She squeezes your hand tightly and resists the overwhelming urge to pull you in for a kiss. “You, Y/N L/N, are an astonishing human being. I…” She trails off, eyes flicking between the lights and you as emotions swirl in her throat.
“Come on.” You smile, tugging her forward. Jack sighs and follows along. Eyes bright as she takes in the beautiful displays. Your eyes track her the whole time.
----
“That was beautiful.” Jack sighs once you reach the end of the street. You both continue walking, arms still linked together. “I’ve been wanting to go on a Christmas light drive this whole month but didn’t have the time, and this completely made up for it.”
It was one of the only Christmas traditions she had kept from her childhood. Doing it always brought back happy memories and helped to get her into the Christmas spirit.
“Oh wow, I haven’t gone on a Christmas light drive since I was a kid.” You smile, remembering your own childhood.
“Maybe next year we can do one together? It’s nicer with company.”
“I’d like that.” Your cheeks turn a light pink and Jack can’t tell if it’s from her offer or the frosty air.
“It would be a lot warmer too. I wouldn’t have to freeze my tits off.” She chuckles. Your eyes fall to her chest which is hidden by a number of layers of clothes and linger for long enough that Jack catches you. She smirks to herself, already knowing your thoughts weren’t PG. “Eyes are up here Y/N.”
Your head snaps up, your cheeks turning a vibrant red. “Hm? I was just admiring your scarf. It’s nice.”
Her lips twitch, almost proud of your quick excuse. “It was my present from Kasie on her random gift day this year.”
You nod, “Good choice.”
It really was. She’d been sceptical about the rainbow patchwork when Kasie had first given it to her as it was something she’d have never picked out for herself, but now it was easily her favourite. The bright colours always cheered her up every time she wrapped it around her neck.
“Kasie’s great at picking out presents.” She could tease you more, she liked seeing you blush, but it was just too easy. “So, where are we off to next?”
“Oh, well, I don’t live too far away. I thought maybe we could go back to mine and warm up with some hot chocolate?” You bite your lip, not quite meeting Jack’s eyes.
She’s surprised at your hesitancy, and bumps her shoulder against yours, “Hot chocolate? You know I’m in.”
Fifteen minutes later she’s making her way up the pavement to your apartment. The cold had officially reached her bones and her teeth were chattering as she entered the lobby.
“As nice as that was, I vote against walking half an hour in the peak of winter again. Next time, we uber.”
You laugh as you take off your hat, shaking the snow from it. “It wasn’t too bad.”
She rolls her eyes, and reaches for one of your hands, tugging the glove off, “Take your glove off, touch my cheek and tell me that again.”
You touch her cheek but quickly pull your hand away again, “You’re freezing! Come on, let’s get you warmed up.” You grab her hand, and tug her along behind you, walking at a much faster pace than beforehand.
“I’m not going to freeze to death, we don’t need to rush.” Jack laughs, pulling you back to slow you down.  She pulls harder than she intended though because you practically snap back into her arms. Her eyes fall to your lips, lingering for a moment too long. You clear your throat and Jack expects you to step away, but you don’t.
“I’ve really enjoyed today.” You say quietly.
“I hope it has made up for missing Christmas with your family.”
You chuckle, looking at Jack with a guilty smile “Is it bad to say I’m actually glad I missed my flight?”
“Only if it’s bad for me to say I’m grateful you missed your flight too.” She tilts on her feet, and carefully reaches for your hand. This time your eyes fall to her lips before you quickly look away. Jack smiles softly, “I couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas. It’s been almost perfect.”
“Almost?”
Jack’s eyes flick up, and it’s then she notices the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above you. “Yeah, almost.” She breathes.
You follow her eye line, “Oh.”
She looks back to you, and hesitantly the hand-linked in yours moves to run up your arm before softly cupping your cheek. “Yes, oh.”
Your eyes flick between hers and her lips, and your tongue swipes out to moisten your own lips, “Let's make it perfect then.”
She smiles softly and gently guides your face closer. Her eyes track your glistening lips, before flicking to your eyes. “You’re sure?”
“Never been so sure of anything.”
That’s all she needs. And Jack finally does what she’s been fantasizing about doing for months - she kisses you. It starts off slowly, a gentle exploration, but it isn’t long before the kisses begin to heat up. Your hands grip at her waist, and she pushes herself in closer to you, removing the final bit of space.
She only pulls back when breathing becomes difficult. Your foreheads rest together as you both catch your breath. “This is definitely a Christmas to remember.”
You hum, “I think it might be my favourite.”
She kisses you again. It’s meant to be a short peck, but she quickly loses herself in it and it’s not until she hears a door open from behind her that she slowly pulls away.
You stare at her for a moment, a happy smile on your face before you look over her shoulder at the intruder. Your cheeks turn a slight pink as you nod and mutter “Merry Christmas.”
Jack looks at the older woman who she recognises as being one of your neighbours, and smiles brightly, “Merry Christmas.”
The woman shakes her head with a soft laugh, “Merry Christmas, dears. Have a good evening.”
“And you.” Jack nods. Only once the woman has walked off down a corridor does she turn back to you.
You immediately groan and drop your head to her shoulder, “I did not just get caught making out like a teenager by my neighbour!”  
“Could be worse. We could have been half undressed.”
Jack actually sees your brain short circuit.
“Uh, yeah, yeah, true. We could’ve been.” You clear your throat, “Uh, so, hot chocolate?”
“Are you sure we need it?” She definitely wasn’t feeling cold anymore.
You roll your eyes, smirking. “Okay, no hot chocolate, but are you still coming in?” You lean in and whisper into her ear, “I’m sure there’s something else we could do.”
Her eyes fall shut. She wants nothing more but… “If I come in, I won’t be leaving tonight, and don’t you have an early flight tomorrow?”
You pull back to meet her eyes, “Not until 11 and it’s a short drive there which means there will even be time for breakfast. I'll make you pancakes.”
Jack hums, “Your pancakes are very good…”
“Please.” You whine before pecking her lips. You begin to leave a trail of kisses along her jawline muttering please after each one. If it weren’t for the scarf, you’d be attacking her neck.
Jack teeters as her breath becomes shallow. Her whole body was drawn to you. It always had been, and she could finally live out the dreams she’d been having for months. “Yes.”
You place a final kiss against her lips before pulling back with a proud smirk. Jack rolls her eyes, “Shut it.”
“Didn’t say anything.”
“Smugness isn’t a good look on you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about because every look is a good look for me.”
Jack laughs and shakes her head with mock disapproval. “Are you going to take me to yours or just make comments the whole night instead?”
You hum, pretending to think it over.
“I mean if you want I can just go home and take care of myself.” She arches a brow with her own cocky smirk as your eyes flash with desire. You capture her lips in a searing kiss, which quickly has her smirk fading away and her moaning into your mouth. “Okay. No more games. Bed now.” She mutters between a kiss.
You nod, dragging her towards the direction of your apartment, the two of you never separating for more than a couple of seconds. You bash into the wall and if Jack’s sole intention wasn’t getting you into a bed, she might have felt bad for your neighbours.
Jack loosens the scarf around your neck to gain access and begins to leave a trail of kisses while you struggle to open your apartment door. “Jack, you’re making this difficult.” You whine, but it quickly changes to a sigh when she hits a particular spot. “Jack, please.”
“Please what?” She breathes.
“Stop for two seconds so I can get us inside and then you can do whatever you want.”
She pulls back, eyes black with desire. You unlock the door and before you can push it open, Jack’s pushing you backwards into the room, carelessly kicking the door shut behind her and capturing your lips in a kiss that has you weak in the knees.
“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” She breathes against your lips.
“Merry Christmas, Jack.”
“Now, I think there’s a bedroom you need to show me.”
Giggling you drag her in the direction of your room.
It was definitely a Christmas to remember.
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apples-r-rubbish · 4 years
Text
Institute (13th Doctor x Reader) Part 1
Summary: After a weird encounter on a victorian street the doctor is drawn to you a fellow time traveller AN: HI!! this is a 13 x fem! reader as I started this a while ago and it would’ve meant very heavy delays if I had altered it Word count: 1.6k Warnings: death mention 
(PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4) (PART 5) (PART 6) (PART 7)  (PART 8) MASTERLIST
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The doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, rubbing her hands together “C’mon gang, let’s get a shift on. Lots to see, lots to do.” She said taking the lead and walking ahead. The victorian streets were cobblestone, and covered in mud, “Doc, I thought the victorian era was supposed to be more, I don’t know? Glamorous.” Graham sighed
“Oi! This is real history, you can’t believe everything you see in movies. They’re more historically inaccurate than you’d think,” The doctor snapped jokingly
“Then why’s she wearing jeans?” Ryan asked, gesturing towards you. The entire group turned to look at you. 
“Another time traveller probably. I’m not the only one knocking about time and space. She’s definitely not a time agent because she would be dressed era appropriate, so I assume she’s just passing through,” She rambled. Whilst she talked about the intricacies of the time agency you approached them. 
“You do understand it is rude to talk about someone, and not include them, regardless, of how well you know someone, Doctor, Ryan, Graham, Yaz,” You interrupted
“Who are you? Sorry, time travel, you should know what it’s like, nothings ever in the right order. Especially with people,” A confused expression fixed on her face
“Oh, of course, that makes sense. It’s all coming together,” You said glaring at the vortex manipulator and sticking your hand out to her “My name’s (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”
“That’s a lovely name. A really lovely name,” The doctor said smiling widely, Ryan and Yaz chuckling at her.
“You’ll see me again,” You said kissing her on the cheek “That’ll make more sense eventually, I promise,”
“Do you happen to know an archeologist by any chance?”
“I think I know the one you’re referring to. We happen to be friends I’ll have you know,” You blinked staring off into the distance for a second “Well, if you haven't met me yet, I should get going,” You said tapping the travel device and slamming your hand down against it. You vanished.
“Well that definitely was one of the more confusing interactions we’ve had,” Yaz frowned. Electricity fizzed and you reappeared behind them, “Sorry, sorry,” You said making them jump “Doctor, when you see me next, give me this, it’ll make sense to her, maybe. Anyway, onwards,”  You handed her a heavy ring as you spoke, ”I’ve always wanted to die on a foreign planet.” And before she could respond, you vanished into thin air once again.
“How- How did she do that?” Graham asked “And what did she mean? Die on a foriegn planet,”
“Vortex manipulator, nasty way to time travel, bad for the kidneys,” She frowned “as for the death bit, I don’t know,”
It’d been 3 months since the doctor had met you. She had tried to search for you and found nothing. She’d bored the fam to death rambling about time and the way it worked and who you could be and things she’d done to try to track you down. Nothing seemed to work, at one point they’d tried to stage an intervention which did not help as it merely gave her a platform to theorise. Until one day they arrived on Earth. 
“Right gang, this is an abandoned building, middle of London. 3 hours to get some stuff done before we set off again,” the doctor said as she pushed the door open. The building outside the doors was definitely not abandoned. It looked like an office, floor to ceiling windows and a beautiful view of London outwards, a desk opposite them. 
“Are you sure you’re right? This looks awfully officey for an abandoned building,” Ryan commented with a frown. The room was large, there were a variety of chairs placed around the room, along with a few futuristic looking lights
“No, it’s definitely Earth the gravity feels right,” The doctor answered, she licked her finger and lifted it into the air, “It’s earth, middle of London, Wednesday and it’s 11:02am,” She said a smug smile framing her face, wiping her finger on Yaz despite her protests. A door opened, you stepped out looking younger than the version in the victorian street, dressed in a suit, the opposite to how you were in the street.
“Hello, you’re the doctor, and I presume these are your companions? Assistants? Friends? Whatever you call them now,” You said extending a hand out to the timelord
“Yes, I am and yes they’re friends,” She said taking it “So you’re (Y/N) (L/N) then? What is this place?”
“Yes I am. It’s my office, I’ll explain on the tour, follow me, this way,” You said taking the lead and exiting the room
“We can’t tell her about what we saw, it runs the risk of collapsing reality or potentially ruining a fixed point, which is very, very bad, specifically 4 suitcase fulls and a bus journey full of bad,” The doctor explained in a hushed whisper to the other three
“But what if we could save her? Stop her from believing she’ll die on another planet?” Yaz asked empathetic as always
“Look, we can’t, I’ve tried that before and it ends up worse, we can’t do that. We can’t choose who lives and who dies,” She said glaring at all of them before snapping back to her usual sunny disposition and following you out of the room, the others trailing behind
“We always knew you would visit us at one point, it was inevitable given what we deal with,” You stated
“What is this place? Is this some kind of database an information hub? Why didn’t it show up on TARDIS scanners?” She asked, her list of questions increasing
“No, we’re an institute. Future tech, didn’t want you interfering. We help people, or we try to. London’s best kept secret, used internationally, U.N.I.T. doesn’t even know we exist. It didn’t show up on scanners because we planned for you and we knew that, of we wanted to do our jobs properly we couldn’t have interferences be it human or otherwise, especially not from you,” You replied 
“What exactly are you the institute of?” Graham interrupted
“Formally, rehabilitation of former time travelers and people who come into contact with aliens. Informally, cleaning up after the Doctor. We’re The Bad Wolf Institute, formerly known as The Trenzalore institute, but Captain Harkness insisted we change it, after an old friend of yours, I believe” 
The doctor froze in her tracks “Sorry? The Bad Wolf institute?”
“Yes, Jack was very insistent, pitched it to Me and she seemed to like the concept. The meeting of human and alien so to speak,” 
“Did you just refer to yourself in the third person and first person?” Yaz mumbled
“No, Lady Me founded the institute and is formally the director of it, however, when she is away with one of your former friends or running trap street, I become acting director,” You explained opening a door and ushering them inside “She did claim she was trying to protect the world from you. She kept her word Doctor.” Inside the room was sectioned off areas of ground and a locked cabinet. “Vortex manipulators,” You answered the moment the doctor opened her mouth to ask “Called in a favour from Jack and Torchwood, he owed us after the 456 issue, but we took care of it. Use them to jump planets and time, smooth over any damage you’ve done, better us than the time agents, you know what they’re like.”
“Isn’t that a violation of time having them in the 21st century considering they were invented in the 51st century?”
“Yes, however, we’re erased from future narratives, we’re ghosts in the future, barely echos of echos,” 
The doctor stopped suddenly, “How can I trust you? Hm? How do I know you aren’t lying? You could be a trap, a trick,” 
“I can pull out a file on any former companion and read it to you.  Amy, Rory, Jack, Martha, Clara, Rose, Harry, Donna, Jamie, pick a name and we’ll find it,” Your tone was neutral, but your face wasn’t harsh. 
“Too general, anyone from U.N.I.T can do that, I need something more specific,”
“I was the rep assigned to Amelia and Rory Williams, the Ponds. Visited her, 1946, New York, made some connections for her. Hooked up with an adoption agency, her and Rory adopted a son. She also repeatedly referred to you as raggedy man, and told me you used to eat fishfingers and custard which is something we didn’t have on file. We didn’t add it, you’re allowed some secrets, old man, no matter how vile it sounds,” A smile gracing for face at the last words
“Sorry? You used to be a man?” Graham asked. You chuckled at that, the formal facade finally slipping.
“Yes? That’s what you take away from that Graham? I believe you, no one other than her calls me that.” The doctor nodded at you, pulling the weighted silver ring from one of her many coat pockets “Oh before I forget, someone told me to give you this. They said it was important.”
You examined the ring for a second, a small chuckle escaped you “This was my mother’s, it went missing not long after she died. Never found it, searched the whole house, nothing,” You explained, slipping it on to your finger. “Thank you, I presume it was me then. My future must be in safe hands.”
“How did you- How did you work that out?” Ryan asked 
“Time travel, it’s weird,”
“Want to come with us?” The doctor said unexpectedly
“Not especially. I have an institute to look after while Me runs Trap street, ask me again one day and I might just say yes,” You sighed a small wink directed towards her at the end of your sentence “Leave the TARDIS here as long as you’d like, no harm will come to it here.”
And that’s where it began.
105 notes · View notes
aband0ned-s0uls · 3 years
Text
A like V - Part 1
-SPOILERS FOR ENDING- 
This is my first time writing a fic, and I’m so excited/nervous to share it with you guys! V gets a ‘lil birthday surprise. 
Also please excuse the dreadful formatting, I’m not a Tumblr pro. 
---------
V swirled the dregs of her drink around her glass as she leaned half against the bar of the Red Dirt, her head resting on her hand, letting the vibrations from the music flow through the cool metal of the worktop and into her body as she waited for the bartender to pour her next one.
After spending months cooped up in her apartment, watching shitty movies, eating cold burritos and recovering from having her own engram re-write the chip, V had been more than surprised when Kerry had called her on the holo and told her – not asked – that he had organised a birthday bash at the Red Dirt for her and her attendance was required. I mean sure, she'd had visitors, and Kerry had been a lifeline in enabling her to get drunk, release her built up frustration by smashing the shit out of everything in true Eurodyne style and reminisce about Johnny, but she never thought in a million years that Kerry Eurodyne would be organising a birthday party for her.
What might have been weirder was the fact that he had also invited her closest friends. Maybe she just wasn't used to people doing things out of the kindness of their hearts, but it all felt a little surreal.
She was lost in her thoughts as she studied the soft red and purple glow illuminating the edges of her glass, musing on how it reminded her of many an exhausted night of stumbling into her apartment, heading straight for her bed after a job and falling asleep to the sounds of Night City. The soft glow of the neon street lights from her window dancing underneath her eyelids as she drifted off. Of many a night listening to Johnny chastise her for falling asleep fully clothed, dinner neglected, asking her for at least one fuckin' cigarette before she passed out. She would launch a pillow at him and tell him to shut the fuck up, he would chuckle and call her a cunt as it sailed through his engram and hit the wall with a soft thud, and she would drift off with a small smile on her face.
Johnny. The thought of him, his absence, she felt it like a punch in the gut. Her fingers tightened around her glass. She'd made it out of Mikoshi alive, the chip re-written by Alt to contain her own engram. She was whole again, but she didn't feel like it.
The music from the band onstage, the animated voices from the people in the bar, strangers, acquaintances and friends alike washed over and around her, but she still felt so alone, and that made her equals parts sad and angry. She'd never really felt alone before – hell, she'd even enjoyed her alone time, but Johnny not being around was like missing a hole in her fuckin' head.
Why should I miss the ghost of a fuckin' asshole?
But V already knew the answer to that question. He wasn't just any asshole, he was her asshole. Johnny, who would tell her she looked shit warmed up and made sure she ate something when she'd forgotten to all day in the same breath. Johnny, who would cover her back and alert her to enemies she hadn't spotted so she didn't get another bullet lodged in her fuckin' skull, but would let her gladly stay unaware of an object at her feet when she stumbled into her apartment drunk, just so he could laugh as she tripped and face planted the back of her couch.
Johnny who had been given a second shot at life, Johnny who was the most inherently selfish motherfucker she'd ever met had turned around and traded it for hers.  
Johnny, who had brushed her hair behind her ear in cyberspace, and with more emotion in his voice than she'd ever thought possible, had said his only regret in this life was that they'd never get a happy ending.  
She'd relived that memory, over and over again. She'd thought he'd meant as two chooms, riding through Night City, shooting the shit after another relentless job, like her and Jackie. But when she'd looked in his eyes, she knew he'd meant more. They'd both shared thoughts and emotions, and the closer they'd got on their journey to Mikoshi, the more their feelings for each other had become intertwined. Never needing to – or at least willingly – be spoken out loud.
Until the end. The look on his face as she turned around one last time before she crossed the bridge. The thought of more, and the implications of what could have been, was what kept her awake at night.
She was torn away from her melancholy thoughts when the bartender slid her fresh vodka lemonade over to her. V looked up and forced a smile. V's vision blurred slightly, and she told herself it was the four drinks she'd already had, but as she blinked rapidly she knew that wasn't the whole truth. Fuck it, she thought. If this was going to be the tone of the evening, a little extra alcohol could only help. Besides, it was her birthday, and V decided if there was ever an appropriate time to get shit-faced, now was definitely it.
“Two shots of tequila too please, choom.”
“Coming right up, chica.”
The bartender came back quickly with her shots. 
One for Jackie, and one for Johnny. 
V threw them back, one after another. Her eyes watered after the second, and a warm flush enveloped her from her head to her toes. She was buzzed, and the alcohol felt like an emotional safety blanket. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, but at least after 6 drinks it hurt a little less. 
As the bartender took away her empties, V felt a familiar presence close in.
“Those are on me.” 
V turned to see the one person who always managed to lift her spirits, Panam. 
“Happy Birthday, V.”
V smiled, a genuine smile this time, and wrapped an arm around Panam's shoulder. V was relieved that was Panam was here. She was like the sister V had never had, and V held her memories with Pan laying awake, shit-faced and laughing underneath the stars in the Badlands as close to her heart as she did with her memories of Jackie. True friendship was hard to find, and Panam was truly an angel. 
A hot-tempered angel with a love for cold beer and fast cars, but an angel never the less.
“Pan! I didn't think you'd make it, 's good to see you.”
Panam laughed, her brown eyes sparkling with warmth, and V earned herself a nudge in her side from Panam's elbow. V chuckled.
“V, I hope you are joking. It's your birthday, of course I'd be here, you're family.” 
Panam took a swig of the Brosephs she had in hand and gave V a sly smile as she leaned her back against the bar. 
“We managed to finish our... business, right on time.”
V's arched a brow at Panam's choice of words, and was about to question why she looked like the cat who got the cream when she saw, to her utter surprise, Mitch and Kerry walking through the bar towards them. They were talking in serious tones, glancing every now and again at V, but the noise in the bar was too loud for V to hear them.
Now this should be interesting, V thought as she removed her arm from around Panam and reached for her vodka lemonade, taking a sip, her curiosity piqued. Since when the fuck were Mitch and Kerry chooms?
Both of the men broke out into shit-eating grins when they locked eyes on V. Kerry sauntered right over to V, clapping her on the shoulder.
“V! Kid, glad you made it.”
 He beamed at her, and shouted to the barman for another round of drinks. Him and Panam shared a knowing look as V readjusted her position, leaning so that her back was against the bar so that she could look at both of them.
“So, now that you're here, I have a preem birthday surprise for you, V. It's gonna blow your fucking socks off, I'm tellin' ya.” 
Kerry settled beside her, taking a drink from the freshly poured round on the bar. He winked before downing it in one go, as her face turned to look of confusion.
V looked between all three of them, taking another sip of her drink.
 “I'm guessin' all of you were involved in this surprise then, huh?”
Panam and Mitch smiled brightly, Mitch chuckling through a freshly lit cigarette. Before they could answer, Kerry banged down his now empty glass onto the bar, and clapped his hands together, looking at the stage. V followed his gaze and noticed that the music had stopped, and a group of stage hands were moving equipment around. Her eyes went wide as she noticed Nancy setting up her keyboard on the stage, followed shortly by Denny.
“Ker, what the fuck...” She looked at him. “You guys are playin' me a birthday gig?”
Ker laughed, clapping her on the shoulder again as he started walking backwards away into the crowd, heading towards backstage.
“You'll see V, like I said, it's gonna be FUCKIN' preem!”
With another wink and a finger pointed at her, he was gone.
V shook her head, smiling, feeling flattered and happy. She guessed she'd had a bigger impact on the people in her life than she previously thought. Hearing some of Samurai's music live on her birthday? It was going to be bittersweet. 
Still, she didn't understand Mitch's and Panam's involvement in this... V fidgeted with her leather skirt and twisted a strand of her long dark hair pensively whilst she waited for the show to start.
----------------------------- 
Kerry practically skipped backstage, slamming the doors wide open.
“Everythin' ready to go?” He asked, as he jumped in place, rolling his shoulders and wrists.
“Ready to rock and fuckin' roll.”
Ker looked over to the man sat in the corner, who outwardly appeared cocky and relaxed, cigarette in hand and legs up and resting on an amp.
But Ker knew better, far better. The nervous strum of metal fingers along the sideboard that hadn't ceased since they arrived and the empty pack of cigarettes laying on the floor told Kerry all he needed to know.
He gave his old friend a wide smile and smacked him on the shoulder.
“She's gonna fuckin' love it, Johnny. Now stop brooding, lets' go knock her dead.”
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the-voltage-diaries · 3 years
Text
Pulcherrima Rosa Me - Taki Kozaki
‘Pulcherrima rosa me’: Latin for ‘My beautiful rose’.
Disclaimer: Office AU, Hanahaki AU. Now, since it’s Hanahaki, of course it will be angsty. So, time to fasten those seat belts and sit tight.
Word Count: 2225
Author’s note: My first open-ended fic, lmao. Originally was supposed to have smut, but things changed here and there, so you see.
P.S.: Special thanks to @akaiiro-yume​​​ for being my proofreader and amazing fangirl buddy
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14 years.
That’s how long they had known each other.
To be precise, that’s the number of years they had been the closest of friends.
Never more, never less. 
Just two individuals who over time had, step by step, closed in on the gap separating them, narrowing it so much that barely any space remained. They became so used to being around each other that the thought of sharing the tales of their daily life, no matter how embarrassing, bitching and moaning about work and clients, laughing together without bothering to care about how weird they looked seemed like the definition of normal. But that’s the thing ; no matter how closely their paths collided, an invisible line always kept their journeys divided. Most people called that line “friendship”. Taki and (Y/N) had never been anything more than friends.
They never knew how to be anything BUT friends.
So then why was she the only person on Taki’s mind while his eyes shut to bear the pain of throwing up while he hunched over the sink, coughing up a handful of what looked redder than blood, albeit was anything but?
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“I want this done by the morning,” Taki told the finance head, handing him the proposal for the project they were planning to bid for. “And when I say morning, I mean I’d like to see it on my table by the time I walk in. Is that alright?”
“Yes, sir,” the man responded, picking up the papers and giving him a quick bow before making his way out, muttering a quiet ‘good night,’ to which the CEO gave him a nod of his own.
Taki then turned in his chair and peeked through the thick glass wall of his cabin in search of his secretary. Once his eyes landed on the familiar raven up-do, his lips, though very quietly and only for a moment, lined up in a hint of a small smile.
There she sat on her table, her eyes focused on her laptop screen while her fingers typed away at the keyboard, not noticing the gaze a pair of dark brown eyes fixated on her.
Instead of calling her immediately to discuss the day’s schedule with her, Taki took a moment to admire the woman who had been at his side for the last two years, professionally speaking. For, beyond the walls of the office, he had known her for more than half of his life.
His eyes made their way across her form; slowly drinking in the way she every so often took a moment to stretch her back, roll her shoulders and her neck before getting back to the task at hand, how one of her delicate fingers came up to push a strand of hair behind the perfect curve of her ear, how she bit her lip in concentration every time she worked against time. God, was she beautifu-
The clang of a pen rolling across the table and falling to the floor startled him back to reality, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes at his carelessness before bending down to pick up the pen.
“(Y/N)!” He called, turning back to his laptop and opening up his schedule. He heard the familiar click-clack of her heels and soon enough, the door opened with a low creak. Taki didn’t even need to look up from the screen to know she was here. “Do we have anything else on the agenda for the day?”
“Yes, actually.”
‘We do?’ Taki thought to himself, his eyes giving his schedule a once-over. He didn’t see anything else on it that needed to be done today, so what was (Y/N) talking abo-
“You have a meeting with the board at 9 AM, then a site visit scheduled at 10 AM, a business call with the head of the Ichinomiya Group at 12 PM regarding the construction of their new hotel in Auckland, another site visit for at a different location at 1 PM, and th-”
“Wait a second, why don’t I see all of this anywhere on my schedule?”
“Because you’re viewing the schedule for 3rd November.”
“Yes, and as far as I remember, today IS 3rd November.”
“No, sir,” (Y/N) said, and it was then that Taki looked up to see the smirk on her face, “I’m pretty sure it’s the 4th today.”
He took a quick glance at his watch and saw that the smaller of the two hands had passed the 12 o’ clock mark, and it was, in fact, 12:30 AM. Which meant that it was, in fact, 4th November.
It also meant that they had worked beyond the designated office hours for the fourth straight day in a row.
“I’m sorry for making you work over time again,” Taki muttered, pursing his lips.
“Nah, that’s okay,” (Y/N) shrugged, sending him a playful wink, “Apart from that cute little pout, you’re paying me for it. Rather handsomely, too, so I’m chill.”
“Firstly, I’m NOT pouting,” Taki muttered, rolling his eyes when he heard his secretary whisper the word ‘denial’, “And secondly, Ms. (L/N), is that how you’ll be talking to your boss now?” He smirked. He would be straight up lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this amused change in the atmosphere. In fact, he welcomed it after the long day he’d had.
“Mr. Boss,” she immediately responded, stretching out the word ‘boss’, to which Taki couldn’t help but scoff, “The office hours are over. I’m under no obligation to kiss your ass anymore.”
And oh, he tried.
He tried so hard to stop that laugh from escaping when (Y/N) made a kissy face at him, but alas, he lost and let it erupt with a low rumble from deep within his chest when she lifted two tiny finger hearts to go along with the flying kisses.
And you know what they say, laughter is contagious. Soon enough, (Y/N) too joined Taki in his wonderland of chuckles, and it wasn’t long before they both laughed so much that their stomachs hurt because each time they’d try to stop, all it’d take is one glance at each other’s faces to lose their shit again.
“Pfft,” (Y/N) scoffed, trying to come down from the rush of euphoria she’d just had, “You should be thanking your lucky stars for having the privilege to get as fun a secretary as me. You have NO idea how lucky you are, I tell you.”
‘I agree,’ Taki thought as he took a moment to calm down, letting a rush of air fill his lungs as he took a deep breath in. He relaxed into his chair and glanced back at the magnificent woman standing before him, truly thankful to have her close by. But as soon as he adoringly grabbed on to the memory of the laugh they’d just shared, another sensation latched on to him, stopping him from thinking any deeper by dragging his attention to the ache building up deep within his chest.
Taki paused, shifting uncomfortably at the unfamiliar sensation. All remnants of humor left him at the way something seemingly gripped at the base of his lungs, squeezing hard. He felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment, and his discomfort only grew with each passing second as a painful cough arose in his throat, blocking off any passage for air.
“Argh,” he groaned, his fingers pressing at the space between his collarbones, trying to massage the area into creating some sort of a path through the dark fog building up in his throat, so unforgiving that he almost saw black for a moment.
“Taki?” (Y/N) called his name, all her remaining laughter immediately dying down the moment her gaze washed over him. “A-are you okay?”
And just like that, as quickly had the discomfort come, it died down. 
It vanished into a thin breeze, leaving Taki gasping for some much needed mouthfuls of air.
“Y-yeah,” Taki responded, still in a daze. He had no idea what just happened, and it seemed so surreal that he almost brushed it off as a hallucination, but the concern in (Y/N)’s eyes told him whatever transpired wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. He took a moment to compose himself, before following up with a much more self-assured “Yes, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“But I feel fine.”
“... Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Are you like, sure sure?”
“No, actually.” He looked up at her, an amused grin floating on his face. “I’m not sure sure that I’m fine.”
“See? I KNEW you weren’t okay. Should I call for a doc-”
“You’ve got it all wrong,” he interrupted, stopping her halfway on her mini-panic spree, “I’m sure-sure sure I’m fine.”
“… You’re a jerk, you know that?” (Y/N) huffed, sending a scowl in Taki’s direction. “One of these days I’m gonna stab you with- with…” her eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for an appropriate object to finish her statement with while Taki tried to control his smirk from spreading any wider, “… with a sticky note.”
“A what?”
… well, it was too late to go back on words. So, grumbling under her breath, (Y/N) repeated, “With a… sticky note.”
“Pfft.”
“Mr. Kozaki.” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes at the man, giving him her least scary glare, “did you just ‘pfft’ me?”
“Yes,” he replied confidently, placing his forearms on the table top, “Yes I did.”
“Watch your back. I really will throw the sticky note at this rate.” (Y/N) turned around, her fingers grasping the doorknob, “… and soon.”
Taki watched her step out of his cabin, an amused twinkle in her eye. “Gee, I’m so scared,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before shaking his head at their childishness and turning back to the work at hand.
But even as his eyes swam across the screen, processing the words and formulating appropriate responses, the back of his mind couldn’t let go of the strange inquisitiveness that poked at it, seeking answers to just one question.
What was that fleeting, deadly little coughing fit all about?
He got so focused on his work that he didn’t notice the diligent finance head step into his cabin again only 30 minutes later, quietly keeping the finished proposal on the glass table before walking out just as quietly, so as not to disturb his concentration. He didn’t notice the same guy stopping by (Y/N)’s table, offering her a steaming mug of coffee and giving her the gentlest of smiles while offering to help if needed. He didn’t notice any of it until he heard the pleasant sound of her laugh, passing through the gaps in the glass walls before bouncing off of them on the inside, creating the most melodious of echos.
His eyes left the screen for a quick second to focus on the scene outside, and what he saw made a strange anxiety rise up within him like tiniest of dew vaporizing and stretching its fingers to reaching out to the sky - slowly rising up from the depths of his stomach, travelling up to his chest and finally solidifying just beneath his lips.
Right in front of him stood (Y/N), her fingers clutching an arm that didn’t belong to Taki, her lips turning up into the brightest of curves, shining so bright one would almost go blind, as she laughed along with the damned finance head about something or the other.
And that’s when Taki felt like the (Y/N) who had been standing just within an arm’s reach this whole time was about to slip away from his very fingers, and the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it pricked at him, rendering him in a state of confused speechlessness.
‘Wait. Shouldn’t I feel happy for her, considering she’s finally seeing a guy?’ he thought, taking a deep breath. ‘Yeah. It’s a good thing. But then… what is this insecurity I’m feeling right now?’
The answer to that question seemed only a heartbeat away, and the moment he reached out to grasp it, his body jerked backwards, falling onto his chair while his breathing quickened. The somewhat familiar feeling of his throat being clawed at came back to him - much stronger this time. It all happened quick; his brow furrowed into a deeper crease as moisture pricked at the back of his eyes, his world going back for a moment. Taki’s mouth leaped to suck in a croaked breath - which sounded more like a painful gasp at this point - while his fingers gripped at the collar of his shirt, looking for any way to free him of the sudden pain growling in his chest. He felt a powerful cough coming, preceded by short, painful ones.
“Ah,” he let out a breathy moan, the tears finally making their way to the front of his eyes, followed by a few more. With him standing on the thin line separating sanity from delirium, his body lurched forward, finally finding solace in the way his throat forced out tiny balls of red while the moisture building behind his eyelids finally broke apart to slide down his cheek in one, straight line. The second his gullet felt free again, his body shook with need as he gulped in mouthfuls of air.
Once the dark haze clouding his mind finally started to part, he turned his eyes to look at the red chunk his trachea had shoved out. His eyes widened when his fingertips came in contact with the soft, silky skin of the petals - redder than the darkest of rubies.
The petals of the one flower which finally made him piece together his feelings for the woman standing beyond the see-through walls of his cabin.
… Remember how he wanted to know what his coughing fit was all about?
A rose.
Well… guess it’s about time he found out.
28 notes · View notes
thesurielships · 4 years
Text
New Girl meets the Court of Dreams Part III
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a/n: It’s been a year since I updated this. I’m really sorry about that. I had no inspiration for it and everything I wrote felt wrong. It’s also been a while since I last wrote anything, and I don’t know how I feel about this chapter but if I edit it one more time I might just lose what’s left of my sanity.
Without further ado, enjoy :)
Part I, Part II, Part III | Word count: 1.7k
“Okay, guys,” Rhys whispered as he soundlessly closed the door. He tiptoed across the room to where his brothers were huddled. “What’s the plan?”
“Pull the plug off the TV?” Azriel suggested, face impassive.
“Throw the blanket out the window?” Cassian asked.
Rhys glared at both of them. “Be serious.”
“I am serious!” Cassian began loudly then continued in a hushed voice as a lion roared outside. “If I hear a baby penguin do whatever sound baby penguins make for one more time, I will literally go insane. I haven’t had sex in all the time she’s been here. Every time I bring a girl over, Feyre starts telling her THE story and they cry together and console each other!”
“How does it feel to have girls choose a weeping mess over you, Cass?”
Cassian punched Azriel’s arm.
Azriel’s smug grin faded quickly as a horde of giraffes bleated in the living room. “But seriously, this cannot go on. It’s been three weeks of crying and eating ice-cream and general misery. In the movies it only takes a three-minute montage for the girl to get over her heartbreak.”
“How does it feel to only know about girls from movies, Az?”
Azriel punched Cassian’s arm.
“Guys!” Rhys interrupted before they could get into it. “So, any ideas?”
“You talk to her,” Azriel grumbled. “You’re the one who brought her here.”
“Or better yet,” Cassian smiled suggestively, “have sex with her. You don’t move on till you move oooon.”
Rhys punched his arm.
“Ouch, man. That hurt.”
Azriel nodded at Rhys appreciatively.
“Rock, paper, scissors for who has to talk to her first?”
*****
Rhys opened the door, and immediately the grunt of a dozen camels filled the room. He shared a wince with his brothers before stepping into the battlefield.
“Darling roommate, when Az told you to be home decorator, he didn’t mean for you to make the living room wildlife appropriate.”
Feyre glanced up at him, and the sight of her bundled up in a dolphin blanket, tears streaking her face, tugged at his heart.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a small voice. Rhysand’s heart dropped. “It’s just… watching these cute little things growing up and overcoming hardships, being there for each other, really warms my heart.”
She wiped a stray tear off her cheek.
“And watching natural selection at work motivates me to be resilient. That way I can outlive that miserable, awful, piece of shit asshole.” She stabbed her spoon into her ice cream, laughing maniacally.
Rhysand bolted back to the safety of his room.
“I couldn’t do it.”
“Mother’s tits, Rhys,” Cassian cursed. “I didn’t know you were such a coward. Watch this.”
He strutted out of the room, all confidence. He prided himself in his player ways, after all. A crying girl was nothing he couldn’t handle.
“Feyre.”
Her gaze remained focused on the screen where two pigs were rolling in mud.
“Feyre.”
She stared at him then, her eyes unnaturally big in her pallid face. She tilted her head. “If it isn’t my favorite roommate,” she said with a hair-rising smile. “Is your offer from the other day still standing?”
He swallowed nervously, retreating back a step. “What offer?”
Her grin turned feral. “The one about satisfying my urges. All these animal documentaries are giving me new ideas.”
Her cackling laughter chased Cassian as he turned on his heel and dashed back to headquarters. She was still chuckling when Azriel cleared his throat.
“What, it’s your turn to talk to the deranged roommate now?”
Azriel shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I just wanted to say that I understand. I understand what it’s like to feel your world collapse around you, to realize that you lost the person whom you thought was the sole pillar of the universe. Heartbreak is hard. But there is something you could do.”
She kept eating her ice-cream, eyes glazed over as she watched her documentary. She wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Get closure.”
She finally looked his way, face uncharacteristically somber after the three week long hysteria. “Closure?”
“Talk to him. Burn his house down. Whatever works for you.”
She gave him a sad smile before turning back to her screen. Azriel was dismissed.
He made his way back to Rhys’s room, a cacophony of sounds dogging his steps, none of them her laughter.
***
It had barely been an hour since mother hen and her two chicks had left the house. Feyre let out a deep sigh, reveling in the newfound silence. She had shut off the TV, opting instead to watch the fading light on the ceiling. She was grateful for her roommates’ efforts, she really was. However, she simply was not ready to face what she had lost. Every time she so much as peeked into her soul, she found a yawning chasm that she had no interest in exploring. She was happy to hide in her cocoon of misery and hysteria for a bit longer.
A knock sounded at the door, and Feyre groaned. She left the couch reluctantly, stretching her under exercised muscles and popping her joints. The knocking grew persistent, and Feyre glared at the door.
“Coming!” she shouted as she trudged through the minefield that the carpet had become. It was strewn with ice cream tubs, dirty sweaters - Rhysand’s sweaters, she noted, cringing - tear stained tissues and ripped canvases from her failed attempts to paint.
She finally reached the door, and pulled it open roughly as the visitor began ringing the bell.  It was a gorgeous blonde woman, with blood red lips and a body to die for. Her roommate had upped his game, it seemed.
“Cassian’s not here,” she informed her.
“I’m not here for Cassian. At least not in the way you seem to be thinking,” she chuckled. “I didn’t know one of those losers had gotten a girlfriend,” she added, one delicate eyebrow arched as she gave her a once over. “Rhys?”
Feyre blushed, tugging Rhys’s sweater down on her thighs. “Oh, no. I actually live here. I’m their new roommate.”
The stranger’s second eyebrow rose with shock. “Roommate? Mother, I am always the last to know.” She shook her head, unoffended. “I’m Morrigan, by the way. Rhys’s cousin.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Feyre.”
“Feyre?” she repeated, chocolate eyes twinkling with mischief. “Rhys has told me so much about you.”
Feyre’s smile was wry. “What, did he tell you about me emptying his closet or pathetically crying my ass off in his living room?”
Morrigan laughed. “Neither, don’t worry. Do you mind if I come in?”
Feyre opened the door wider, welcoming her in. “Not at all.”
Morrigan strode in, her flowery perfume a refreshing change from the suffocating smell of the living room. “My, my,” she huffed with a small smile, taking in the mess. “You weren’t lying about the pathetic part.”
Feyre hid her wince with a smile. It probably looked more like a grimace.
“How long has it been since the break up?”
Feyre opened her mouth to ask how she knew, but she just said: “Three weeks.”
Morrigan froze in her inspection of the carpet. “This simply cannot do. Good thing I decided to pass by here. I just happen to need a drinking companion.”
Feyre began to shake her head.
“Tut tut tut,” she shushed her. “I am not taking no for an answer.”
***
Rhys and his brothers had been surprised to find the apartment empty when they came back from their run to the supermarket. One look at the living room and they all wordlessly started cleaning before their whirlwind of a roommate came back from wherever she’d disappeared to.
Two hours and a clean house later, Rhys was growing worried. Feyre had spent the last three weeks between classes and their couch, sometimes not even going to the former. For her to just go out with no notice was weird. He was just about to go look for her when the door opened and Feyre stumbled in with his cousin, arms looped around each other and giggling uncontrollably.
“What the ever loving hell?”
“Hello there, cousin.” Mor’s smile was full of mischief. “You didn’t tell me your new roommate was such a cracker.”
Rhys had a bad feeling about this.
“Rhyyys, you didn’t tell me you had a cousin. And that she’s so wise.”
They started giggling again.
Rhys’ eyebrow rose. “Wise?”
“She told me that all the answers I seeked were in the bottom of a vodka bottle,” Feyre said, her eyes bright with wonder.
Rhys suppressed a smile, even as he was overcome with the need to strangle his cousin. “Did she, now?”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Rhys. I was only tending to her wounds, and wounds need alcohol.”
“Is that all you learned in med school?”
“But Rhys,” Feyre interrupted. She was bouncing on her toes. “She was right!”
“I was?”
“I realized that Tamtam is just so overrated.”
Rhys and Mor snorted. “We could’ve told you that.”
“You know what I used to like the most about him? His hair! Such luscious locks, such glittering golden. I even had a tub of paint that Elain got for me that was the exact shade of his hair. I used it to do portraits and stuff. It was all so pretty.” She shook her head. “But look at this!” She grabbed his cousin’s hair with both hands. “Mor’s hair is so much prettier.”
Mor cackled loudly. “You’re welcome to check out the golden below too, if you want.”
She winked at Feyre and Rhys let out an all suffering groan. How were all of his friends flirting with Feyre?
Feyre untangled herself from Mor and tottered towards Rhys. He stopped breathing as her hand moved towards his neck, his face, his hair… his hair?
“Don’t worry, Rhys. Your hair may not be as great as Mor’s, but it’s definitely in my top 10.”
Rhys could only stare at her glowing eyes and her infectious smile as she kept playing with his hair.
“Your eyes are number 1, though.”
“Stars eternal?” he asked wryly.
Feyre gasped. “Are you reading my mind now?”
Rhys’s laugh was low. He could feel himself leaning forward, entranced by the beautiful woman shining for the first time in weeks in front of him.
“Alright,” Mor groaned loudly, and Rhys caught himself staring at Feyre’s lips. “Enough flirting, you two. We have a long night ahead of us.”
“We do?”
Feyre nodded, and Rhys could’ve sworn her voice was slightly breathless as she said: “We’re breaking into Tamtam’s house.”
Tag list:  @joyceortiz13 @bailey-4244 @quakeriders @standbislytherin @mariamuses @ignite14 @1800-fight-me @velarian-trash @rhysands-highlady @queenblueoffire @rowaelinforeverworld @feeoly @buckybvrnes @dayanna-hatter @shadowstar2313 @goldfishh20 @sleeping-and-books @crackedship @your-high-lady @thesirenwashere @whiskeybusiness1776 @amren-courtofdreams @tswaney17 @julemmaes @booksbooksbooksworld @queenofbumblebees​ @meowsekai​
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jaydiann · 4 years
Text
Last Request- Mouse Gerwitz
Requested by the ever so lovely @lovecatystuff I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Requests are of course OPEN, unlike Primark, as always peeps, have an amazing day! (Song- Last Request by Paolo Nutini) PS, I hope I did alright in terms of describing a dress...
*slag line- the infamous line of orange on many high school girls faces, google it... the urban dictionary has the definition
WARNING- SO SWEET YOU’LL NEED A DENTIST. 
-xoxo faithie  ❤️
You took a final look in the mirror as Casey walked in. You’d never looked or felt so beautiful in your life. You allowed your eyes to wander down your body as you took yourself in. You wore an off the shoulder, a-line lace gown. Small iridescent sequins were scattered at various points, catching the sunlight streaming in from the bay window. Behind you, the small train lay like spilt milk against the rich red carpet of Trudy and Mouch’s home. You wore a delicate chiffon veil, the edges of which were lined with the same lace as your dress.
The sapphire drop earrings you wore glinted against the soft skin of your neck, they’d been a gift from Mouse today. They must have cost a small fortune, but tears had sprung to your eyes when Jay had handed you the box. “New and Blue.” He’d winked before scampering off. 
Around your neck, the diamond pendant your father had given your mother twinkled delicately. She’d insisted you wore it on your wedding day, and although she wasn’t there to witness your special day, wearing it made you feel connected to the woman who’d given you life, even though hers had ended three years ago. That was your something borrowed. Technically it was your something old too. But Matt was adamant he had something. Your best friend stepped forward. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old coin. 
“It’s a sixpence. An old coin. Put it in your shoe for good luck.” He smiled. 
You grinned back at him, mindful of the rosy gloss that was currently on your lips. Matt took the bouquet of wildflowers that you were holding and gave them a sniff as you removed the pointed white satin heels, placing the sixpence at the very point of your left shoe. 
There was a soft knock at the door as Matt handed you your flowers back. “Come in.” You called softly. 
Gabby wandered in holding a glossy black box with a devious smirk. “Matt. Out. Girl talk time.” She ordered, pointing to the door. Matt raised his hands in surrender but left anyway, still holding your flowers. 
“You’re wearing your mischief smirk, what’s in the box?” You asked, touching your eyelashes softly to make sure they were glued on correctly. 
“It’s your garter.” She stated, pulling out the ring of lace and handing it to you. 
You stifled a giggle as you gave it a stretch. “Fun times.” You winked, before sliding it up your leg to the appropriate place. 
Gabby grinned at you and stepped forward to check your hair and makeup. You’d kept it as natural as possible. Two sections of hair were braided away from your face and twisted into a half-up bun that mimicked a rose at the back of your head, the rest of your hair was in loose waves over one shoulder. Gabby had been the one to do it, while Sylvie had done your make up. Your eyelids were covered in a soft brown shadow with a slightly darker brown in your crease and outer corner, while the inner corner of your eye had a light dusting of shimmery gold powder. You’d opted for a natural-looking pair of false eyelashes, just to give you a fluttery look without the need for loads of mascara. And your face wasn’t caked in foundation, there was enough to give you a glow of sorts, but not enough that you would worry about a slag line showing up in photographs. 
“You look stunning, y/n...” Gabby said softly, tears springing to her eyes as she took you in. Gabby had been your first friend at fifty-one and had been the one to train you. You’d become close very quickly, so it was only fitting that she was your maid of honour. 
.You peeked at her through your lashes. She was wearing a one-shoulder cornflower blue chiffon maxi dress, the same colour flowers braided into her hair. 
“You look beautiful too, Gabbadabbadoo.” You grinned. 
She quickly hugged you with a giggle. “You’re getting married!” 
You started giggling, a beautiful smile spreading across your face as your hand reached up to touch her wrist. The two of you were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice Trudy wander in with a camera. A soft smile spread across her face as she captured the heartwarming moment between two soul sisters. 
“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” She stated. 
Your head snapped up, mouth falling open slightly as Trudy snapped another picture. She let out a chuckle. “I’ll be sending that one to Hank.” 
“Is it time?” You asked, straightening up and adjusting the silver bracelet on your wrist. 
Trudy nodded and offered you her arm. “Mouch is waiting downstairs with Sylvie and Kim.” She said, touching your veil softly.
You nodded and accepted her arm. Gabby reached behind you and picked up the train of your tress, making sure you wouldn’t fall down the stairs. 
As you came into view, you heard gasps. Sylvie, Kim and Mouch all held their hands to their mouths, tears pricking in their eyes. Mouch sniffled, wiping his eye. 
“Oh kid...” he breathed, pulling you in for a soft hug. He’d be the one walking you down the aisle today. 
Trudy snapped another photo with a smile. She knew Mouch thought of you as a daughter, which meant Trudy also saw you that way. She’d been the one to push Mouse to ask you on a date.
The announcement of your engagement hadn’t come as a shock to anyone that knew you and Mouse. It was well known that you’d been head over heels for each other since the day you met. “Love at first fright” was the joke around the precinct. It was a reference to how you’d met. You’d been stood having a conversation with Hank in his office when Mouse had quite literally barged in, causing you to jump around six foot in the air. He’d apologised profusely without even looking at your face, but when you had, he’d been starstruck by your beauty. 
To the point, he’d stopped speaking and just... stared. You’d done the exact same thing, tumbling headfirst into those crystal pools of his. Needless to say, Hank had been left in a state of confusion as Mouse scampered off to find Jay and explain that he’d just saw his future wife. 
Your first date had been a picnic in the park, the two of you sitting under a tree eating food, reading a book and enjoying the other’s company. The second had been rock climbing. The third had been an art gallery. 
Mouse had bugged Jay about you since the day he’d spooked you, to the point where Jay had been concerned for Mouse. But when he realised just how much you and Mouse cared for each other he’d sat back and watched the real life rom com. 
On a stormy night in December, after a year and a half of dating, Mouse got down on one knee in a living room filled with candles and asked you to marry him. The exact moment you’d said yes, the power had come back on. And Mouse had told you, with tears in his eyes, that you were literally, the light of his life. 
In May, Mouse had come home from work and sat you down at the table. He explained that he wanted to rejoin the Rangers, and that he wanted you to go with him. You hadn’t understood. But he’d explained. 
Married quarters, on base. You asked him if rejoining would make him happy. And he’d nodded. Mouse had expected you to react the same way Jay had. But you’d cupped his cheek with your hand and kissed him, telling him that you were happy when he was. And that if he wanted to move to Antarctica you’d go. Because at the end of the day. Mouse was your home. 
It was now the end of June. Mouse was scheduled to leave in three weeks time. The wedding had been rushed, but meticulously planned. And now, here you were. Leaving your city and your last name behind. 
Outside, a car honked its horn and you knew it was time. Trudy snapped photographs of you with your true family, before Kim, Matt and Gabby disappeared off to the church. 
Mouch reached for your hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “I remember when you were firstborn. You were so tiny. And now here you are... gettin’ married.” He choked, tears streaming down his cheeks. 
You bit back a sob. “Uncle Mouch you’re gonna make me cry.” You whispered. 
Mouch looked at you, a sad smile on his face. “Your parents would have loved him. Your dad especially.” 
You nodded. “Papa loved everyone. He didn’t know how to hate.” You said softly. 
Mouch hummed in agreement, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a shoelace. “This is going to sound strange. But this is a shoelace from your Dad’s boot. I was thinking you could tie it round your flowers.” He offered, placing the thin brown cord in your palm. 
You smiled and began wrapping it around the white ribbon that held your flowers together. “I guess he’s holding my hand too now.” You whispered. 
Your godfather gazed at you, adoration filling his eyes. Your ability to see things in a certain way had come directly from your father, his best friend. 
Trudy cleared her throat. “I hate to break the cotton candy moment but we gotta get you married, little miss.” She winked, picking up your train. Mouch opened the door and opened his arm with a nod of the head. 
You couldn’t help but grin when you saw Kelly stood next to an old mustang. “I even febreezed everything!” He yelled, opening the door. 
You let out a chuckle and shook your head before getting inside. Mouch sat next to you as Trudy rode shot gun. 
Fifteen minutes later you arrived at the small but rustic church for the ceremony. You took a deep breath as Trudy and Kelly rushed in ahead of you, but not before Trudy tucked your veil over your face, placing a final kiss on your forehead. 
1
2
3
The seconds ticked by slowly as you nodded. The carved double doors opened as Natalie began playing photograph by Ed Sheeran on her violin. 
Mouse stood at the altar in his Rangers dress uniform with Jay, Kevin and Adam, butterflies filling his stomach. His back was turned to the doors as he conversed with the priest when he heard the music. 
He turned slowly, as if in a dream. And blinked. 
You were an angel sent from heaven. Tears began trickling down his cheeks as he blew softly. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. The sunlight was streaming through the stained-glass windows, the patterns of which cast an ethereal glow as you made your way down the small aisle. You wore a shy smile as you approached the three small steps. 
When you reached the bottom, you turned to Mouch as he lifted the veil from your face, before he took your hand and placed it in Mouse’s. 
He kissed your cheek goodbye as the music stopped. 
Mouse gave your hand a soft squeeze as you walked up the steps with a smile on your face.
“You look like an angel.” He whispered in your ear, giving your cheek a soft kiss.
You beamed at him, the sapphires glinting in the sunlight once again as you turned your head. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Mister.” You whispered back.
The priest cleared his throat. “We are gathered here today, to witness the union of two souls.” He began as you and Greg snuck a glance at each other.
Your friends couldn’t help but smile, the love between you and Mouse was stronger than steel and everyone knew it. Few had seen a romance like it. Your entire relationship had been a fairy-tale. And now, the princess of firehouse fifty-one was marrying her prince.
Prayers and blessings were said. Close family gave readings and eventually, it was time to say your vows.
Mouse took a deep breath. “Y/n y/m/n y/l/n. My love. My princess. My angel. You’ve been my guiding light since I give you the fright of your life in Voight’s office. You are my soulmate, my best friend, my favourite human. I promise to love and cherish you. To remove all spiders from our home, whether it’s a tiny apartment or a massive house. I will do everything I can to stay safe when I am away from you because I understand that I have a responsibility not just to my country, but to our life together. Every second we’re apart, know that my every thought, my every dream is of you. And above all, I vow to remain faithful to you. Even though my bromance with Jay has us at Bromeo and Juliette levels.”
You stifled a giggle at the last part as the small chapel erupted with laughter. Your left-hand left Mouse’s for a second as you fought to control yourself. Before you composed yourself and began speaking. “Gregory Alexander Gerwitz. My love. My prince. My pain in the ass. Deep down I knew there was something about you from the second I looked into your eyes. You are my everything, my soulmate and my second-best friend after Gabby. I promise to make cookies for every homecoming, even if it’s a weekend away with your husbands. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy and I promise to always listen to you, to be patient and to never blame you for what you can’t control. Above all, I vow to remain faithful to you, even when you steal my cookies.”
Greg had tears streaming down his face at the realisation of the “can’t control” vow. He knew that you were vowing to help him fight whatever battles he may have when he came home. He didn’t know it was possible, but he fell harder at the realisation.
The priest cleared his throat and looked to Greg. “Do you, Gregory, take thee, y/n, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. Do you vow to honour her and be true to her, for as long as you both live?”
He didn’t need told twice. “I do.” He smiled, squeezing your hands.
Adam reached forward and handed Mouse the ring with a wink.
“I give you this ring, as a symbol of my love and commitment to you, with my heart, body and soul.” He said, sliding the simple platinum band over your knuckle.
The priest turned to you. “Do you, y/n, take thee, Gregory, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. Do you vow to honour him and be true to him, for as long as you both shall live?” he asked, a soft smile on his face.
“I do.” You stated with a smile.
Sylvie gently placed the ring in your palm with a grin, before moving back to her seat.
“I give you this ring, as a symbol of my love and commitment to you, with my heart, body and soul.” You smiled, sliding the matching band onto his finger.
The priest smiled at you both. He never got tired of marrying people. In his eyes it was the closest bond anyone could have, in his heart, he knew that you and Mouse were soulmates.
“This man and this woman have pledged love and loyalty to each other, and have declared the same by the giving of rings. With the power vested in me by the State of Illinois, as witnessed by your friends and family, it is my pleasure to pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” He grinned as Mouse kissed you passionately.
The chapel erupted in cheers and whistles as the two of you quickly signed the marriage certificate. Trudy and Hank had called in a favour with a judge and managed to get the legal proceedings sorted then and there, meaning the little time you and your new husband had left could be spent partying with the ones you loved most.
Once outside, you and Mouse shared a kiss on the steps as Trudy continued snapping photograph after photograph.
The ceremony had happened. Now, it was time for some fun.
You and your entourage made your way to Molly’s, where your firehouse family had somehow managed to glamourize the bar and the smaller beer garden out the back with some fresh paint, fairy lights and flowers.
Gabby and Herrmann wanted you and Mouse to enjoy a private moment together, so one of the store rooms had been emptied. In its place was a table and two chairs. On the table sat a bottle of champagne, two glasses and a sandwich cut in half.
Mouse pulled out the chair for you with a smile. “For you, my darling wife.” He grinned.
Butterflies erupted in your stomach at those words. You were now a wife. And not just any wife. You were Gregory Gerwitz’s wife.
You delicately sat down with a smile, your hands reaching up to remove your veil, but Greg stopped you.
“I’ll do it.” He smiled, removing the hair pins with ease and gently folding the fabric in his lap.
“Thank you.” You grinned, reaching for his hand.
Mouse did the same, running his thumb over your new ring with a smile. “I can’t believe we’re married…” he murmured.
“Me neither… it doesn’t feel real yet.” You stated.
His brows furrowed. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
You peered at him through your lashed and sucked on your lower lip, something you did when you were thinking. “I mean it feels like a literal Disney movie.”
He chuckled at your statement. “There’s no singing animals, princess.”
You arched a brow. “Ohhh there will be. Just wait until Matt, Adam, Kevin, Kelly and Jay are drunk.” You giggled.
Mouse laughed and agreed, before picking up the bottle of champagne and opening it away from you and his face. The cork popped out without any dribble, much to his relief. His dress uniform was a bitch to clean. Still wearing a smile, he poured champagne into your glass and offered you half of the sandwich. You accepted it eagerly. All you had managed this morning to eat was a yogurt and a cup of coffee.
For around a half hour, you and Mouse sat talking and drinking champagne until Gabby knocked. “Guys, guys, guys! Can we see the bride and groom yet? People are waitinggggg!” she sang.
You and your husband shared a look before joining hands and walking into the main room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom!” Gabby hollered as you made your way to a table, where two high backed chairs were spray painted silver. Once again, your husband pulled your chair out as you sat down to enjoy what was officially your first meal as husband and wife.
The two of you had no desire to fork out loads of money for catering so you’d kept it low key and simple. Matt and Kelly had managed to transform two oil drums into large barbeques and were stood grilling a variety of things with cigars hanging from their mouths. It was a case of people choosing what they wanted, sitting where they wanted and drinking what they wanted. Weddings were about people coming together, there was no point in picking a side.
As the night went on, speeches were read telling stories of heroism, embarrassing moments and praises to the bride and groom. Countless toasts were raised, bottles of alcohol being tipped down merry throats and held in hands familiar and dear.
The time came for your first dance as April got up onto a small stage made from palettes and crates. It was rustic and sweet. Kim began playing the keyboard as April began singing.
You and Mouse looked into each other’s eyes as she reached the chorus and began softly singing along together.
“Grant my last request and just let me hold you” you sang.
Mouse buried his face in your neck and inhaled. “I love you, y/n Gerwitz.” He whispered.
“I love you, Gregory Gerwitz.” You whispered back.
The merriment continued well into the evening, with you and Mouse deciding to head off at around 10PM.
You threw the bouquet and were thrilled when Sylvie caught it, your garter landed on Matt’s shoulder and you wiggled your brows at them both before winking at them.
The two of you left as the moon rose high in the sky, Mouse’s jacket was around your shoulders as Hank drove you home. As you thanked him, he gave you an envelope.
“Present from the 21st.” He winked, before driving off to party more.
You tucked the envelope into Mouse’s pocket as he picked you up and lifted you over the threshold, kissing you passionately.
Once inside your home, he placed you down and went to the fridge to dig out two beers, before taking you out to the small seating area and sitting down. His jacket was still around your shoulders, his arm around your waist.
“Today was perfect.” He murmured, staring at the moon.
You looked up and nodded, humming. With a gentle movement, you slipped your arms into his coat before standing up. “Dance with me?” You asked, extending your hand to him.
Mouse smiled as the moonlight caught the diamond of your engagement ring. “For you, my angel, anything”
His hand slipped into yours as the two of you swayed in the small flower garden to the music of a summer evening in Chicago. Small it was, but things would grow bigger. Like your stomach with the promise of new life, and your home.
Greg’s future in the Rangers would mean living in married quarters on base for a while, but right now, all that mattered were the sounds of your humming and the feeling of platinum against platinum, skin against skin and heartbeat against heartbeat.
106 notes · View notes
spartanguard · 4 years
Text
pushing buttons
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Summary: Killian is hurt, and the only one around to help him out is his beautiful neighbor—that he's never talked to before. Looks like that's about to change. (Based on this prompt, shared by @clockadile​: "I was talking to my friend and she was telling me about how her coworker had injured his arm and had to wear a sling, but also was required to wear a button up shirt for work. So every morning he had to go knock on his neighbour’s door and she would help him button the shirt." 
rated M | 7.3k words | AO3
A/N: HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO @xpumpkindumplingx​!!!! SHE’S A LOVELY AMAZING SWEET RED VELVET CUPCAKE AND YOU SHOULD ALL GO SEND HER LOVE!!! I've literally been working on this story for over a year and it seemed like her birthday was the appropriate occasion to force me to finish it. I’m sure someone else has written it but, oh well. Enjoy!
This wasn’t how he ever planned on introducing himself to his cute neighbor. Killian figured he’d make some witty, flirtatious line, they’d share a bit of banter, and maybe she’d agree to go out on a date. However it worked for other people. 
But no, Killian’s life could never be that simple, could it? Because apparently, his best friend just had to tackle him extra hard in their weekly game of football (proper football—not that American nonsense they loved over here). Which apparently led to a dislocated shoulder and a hairline fracture in his arm (whatever the bone was that supported the bicep; he was a navigational expert, not a doctor). And consequently was putting him in a sling for a fair number of weeks. 
Good thing he was already missing the hand on that arm, eh?
But, as he discovered, things like buttoning his work shirts and securing the sling were more than a bit difficult one-handed. Obviously, he was used to dressing himself by now, but he usually had the assistance of his prosthesis, or at least his blunted wrist. He was a bit SOL at the moment, though. 
After checking to see if the coast was clear before he stepped out half dressed, he knocked on the door across the hall, where said best friend (though he was questioning that title at the moment) lived; the least Robin could do was help him out. Until he remembered that Robin closed the bar last night and would be dead to the world for the next several hours. 
He glanced at the next door, home to a rather lascivious but otherwise friendly old lady, who he knew for a fact was running breakfast rush at the diner downstairs. 
That left only one other door: Swan. At least, he thought that was the name he saw on her packages; it suited her well enough that he didn’t care if it was wrong. They’d done little more than exchange smiles in the hall, but that was clearly about to change; desperate times and desperate measures and all that. 
Swallowing his pride—and maybe adjusting his posture a bit—he stepped up to her door and knocked. 
It took hardly a second for her to open, and there she was: blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun, wearing a baggy sweatshirt and leggings with a coffee mug in hand and a bit of sleep still caught in her eyes. But—so beautiful. His breath hitched in his throat. 
“Hello—ohhh…” she started to greet, but then her voice trailed off and jaw hung open when she took in his state of dress. Crap; maybe making an introduction with his shirt half open was a bad idea. 
He felt his cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment and the instinct to scratch behind his ear, his telltale nervous tick, was itching. “Hi, uh,” he stammered, his gaze flicking to the floor. “I apologize for bothering you so early, but I’m in a bit of a pickle and could use some assistance, if you’re okay with that.”
“Well, I don’t like pickles but I can probably help,” she offered, setting her mug down on some unseen surface inside and stepping forward. “What do you need?”
He swallowed at the heightened proximity. “I need a bit of help getting this sling on, and then buttoning my shirt, if you wouldn’t terribly mind.”
“Oh, sure!” she blurted out, faster than either of them expected, judging by the surprised look on her face after. “I mean, yeah, just tell me what you need.”
“Of course, love—thank you so much,” he gushed, not realizing until he’d already said the term of endearment. She narrowed her eyes a bit at that but it didn’t seem to stop her. 
He started to slip his left arm into the sleeve of the sling and was going to tell her how to attach the strap, but then her eyes went wide and she gasped. “Oh my god, what happened?” 
He followed her worried gaze to his empty left wrist. Oh, right—she’s probably never seen him without his prosthetic hand. 
“Oh, no—this is old,” he assured her, nodding at it. “It’s my shoulder that’s messed up at the moment.”
“You’ve seriously had that many injuries on one side?” she asked as she stepped closer to grab the straps. “That’s more than coincidence—that’s bad luck.”
“Aye, I suppose. Good thing I’m right-handed.”
“Definitely,” she smiled back as she slipped the strap over his head and started to tighten it. “How’s this?”
“Perfect,” he answered—and it was: the right amount of snug and comfortable. “How’d you know to get it right?”
“I work in bail bonds,” she answered, turning her attention to the buttons on his shirt. “Injuries like that are part of the trade. Everyone at my firm has a pretty good grasp of first aid.”
The back of her fingers brushed against the skin of his stomach, making him breathe in sharply at the contact. 
“Oh no—did I hurt you?” She sounded so worried and pulled her hands back, looking back up at him with her brows raised in concern. 
No, she didn’t—he just hadn’t been touched with anything like that level of care in ages. “No, not at all—you’re fine.” He resisted the instinct to add “love” to the end of that again.  
“Phew, okay; just didn’t want to add to your injuries. I can’t imagine a pinched chest hair feels very good,” she explained, resuming her task. 
He chuckled. “Believe me, I’ve had worse.”
“I can see that,” she teased. 
She managed to button behind the sling, but he stopped her before she got too high. “That’s good.” There were still a few left undone but he didn’t want to impose on her kindness any longer—or if he could stand being in her airspace any more without doing something incredibly stupid, like kissing her.
She adjusted his collar and then stepped away. “You don’t strike me as much of a top-button guy, anyway,” she replied, smirking. 
He winked. “Not in the slightest.” He was amazed, and a bit relieved, at how easy they fell into banter; what could have been an awkward situation was decidedly less so. “But seriously—thank you, so much; I’d hate to have to call off work again simply because I wasn’t presentable.”
It looked like she was about to fire back something, but quickly bit her lip to hold it back. “No worries,” she finally answered. “Anytime.”
“Are you sure about that? Because I’m in this for at least six weeks.”
“I can think of worse ways to start the day,” she shrugged.
“Might I…” Now Killian freely scratched behind his ear. “Could I avail you of your skills tomorrow?”
She smiled, but it faltered. “I have a late night at work tonight, unfortunately,” she told him. “But I’ll be free the next day.”
“It’s a date then,” he blurted out, then realized what he said. “Or, not a date—but—you know—“
“It’s a date,” she laughed. “But there’s one more thing: I don’t ‘date’ guys whose names I don’t know.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” he cursed; they had skipped that part hadn’t they? “I’m Killian; Killian Jones,” he belatedly introduced, offering his hand. 
She took it. “Emma Swan.”
“Emma,” he repeated; Swan still suited her best, but he liked the way her given name felt on his lips. Which he subsequently placed on the back of her hand with a gentle kiss; probably still too forward but better than some of the alternatives. 
Now she was the one blushing, pink coloring the apples of her cheeks as she shyly smiled at him. “See you soon, Killian.”
“Until then, Swan.”
She slipped back inside her apartment and gave him one last wry smile before closing the door, and he headed back to his place. 
Oh, goodness—he was fucked. 
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
She hadn’t been lying: there were definitely worse ways for Emma to start her day. 
Who was she to complain when a man that attractive shows up at her door with his shirt half off?
Okay, so it was more like half on, but it still gave her more than a decent view of his toned chest and core, the line of his collarbones, and the most attractive array of chest hair she’d ever seen as it spread across his pecs and down his stomach to other parts she wouldn’t mind seeing. 
It caught her off guard, opening the door to that; usually it was the opposite—her on the outside, leaving, after a one-night stand. But none of those guys were half as beautiful as Killian, nor as charming or sweet. 
Plus, what kind of person says no to an injured guy like that? Not Emma. She knew what it was like to fend for yourself and could tell he did, too; it took a lot to work up the courage to ask for help like that. 
She felt bad that she wasn’t able to help him the following day, but was surprised to find she couldn’t wait for the next; that wasn’t something she’d done in a very long time. 
She thought about putting on extra coffee for him that morning but thought that might be too forward for a guy who seemed nervous enough in her presence—which was a little odd, because she was pretty sure she’d seen at least a handful of late-night visitors there. 
The coffee scoop was still in her hand when the knock came at the door. So much for that then; she’d just have to swing through Granny’s downstairs. 
When she opened the door, there Killian was again in all his adorable sexiness. “Good morning, Emma; is this an okay time?” He was a bit more reserved than he had been the other day—that wouldn’t do at all. 
Especially because she was hardcore ogling him the whole time. He had on a navy shirt today that hugged his biceps. It didn’t match his eyes quite as well as the pale blue one from his last visit but it gave a bold contrast to his gingery beard, which she noticed was a bit longer than it usually was. This must be some injury if it was impeding his ability to use his uninjured arm, too. 
“Of course!” she quickly said, because she realized she’d spent a bit too much time staring. “Mind if we do it reverse of last time?”
“Uh…”
She bit her lip and winced; that didn’t come out right. (Or maybe it did.) “I meant, let’s do the shirt first, if that’s alright.”
“Oh! Yeah, that’s fine. The pain isn’t quite as bad today.” But he still bit back a tiny wince as she adjusted his shirt, so she resolved to move fast. 
Carefully starting on the bottom button, she had to ask, “How did this happen in the first place?”
“Oh, just my so-called best friend coming at me like a defensive tackle in a game of real football.”
“You mean soccer?”
“Yes, that. How did you Yanks even come up with that term?”
“Fuck if I know.” And even if she did, she was too focused on not touching his skin this time to come up with the answer. She still couldn’t get that brush of soft hair and warm skin out of her mind—which had taken it and ran with it, imagining how the rest of him might feel. 
And it didn’t help that he smelled amazing. He continued on a rant about his friend—who was apparently the other British guy on their floor—but all she was really aware of were what her fingers were doing and the scent of Old Spice Captain, mixed with something else—leather, maybe? Rum? (Hopefully not, with whatever pain meds he was on.) Regardless, she kind of wanted to get drunk on it. 
“How’s that?” she asked when she thought she’d gotten the buttons to where he wanted—done up enough to be fairly modest but open enough to leave things to her overactive imagination. 
He glanced down, and she noticed not for the first time how long his lashes were. “That’s perfect; you’re a quick study,” he smirked, looking back up, amusement crinkling the skin at the corner of his eyes and bringing his adorable dimples out to play. 
“Gotta let the chest hair breathe, right?” She immediately regretted saying that and quickly busied herself with his sling. 
Thankfully, he just laughed. “Aye, I suppose so. My, uh,” he stammered, scratching that spot behind his ear again. “My last girlfriend always liked the view and I suppose it just stuck.”
Emma just adjusted the strap and avoided eye contact. Crap. How was she supposed to answer that? Was she supposed to flirt back to a guy who clearly wasn’t over his ex? Or was there something else going on?
(She was trying to ignore the voice in the back of her head about him being too good to be true, like most guys were.)
“Well...I’ve gotta say, I agree with her. Smart lady,” she offered, awkwardly. 
“Yeah, she was,” Killian answered solemnly. Oh—maybe there was more to this story then. But she had enough tragic backstories of her own to know not to try to prod at someone else’s. He got a bit of a vacant look in his eyes, like he was lost in memory, until he shook it off and looked back up at her, now that she was done. “Anyway, thank you so much again. Same time tomorrow?”
“It’s a date,” she answered without thinking. Because whatever his past was, and whatever the future held, she still knew she at least wanted to get to know him better. 
He grinned back. “See you then.”
He’d turned to head back to his apartment, but she worked up the nerve to call after him. “Wait!” He stopped and faced her again. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Black,” he answered simply.
“Good to know,” she smiled back, and he gave another in return before nodding his final farewell. 
She went back inside and busied herself with grabbing what she needed for work, but still couldn’t get him out of her mind. 
Dammit, why was he injured? Can’t they just fuck?
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
So not only was Emma intoxicating to be around, she also made a fantastic cup of coffee. That was how she greeted him the next day, and every day thereafter. He had to start coming a bit earlier, because coffee usually meant chatting, and once they started, he never wanted to stop. It only took a side-eye from his boss twice to make sure he wasn’t late again, but honestly, he’d rather deal with his boss’s ire than cut off any conversation short. 
It was during those discussions that he learned more about her—like that her favorite movie was The Princess Bride but she wasn’t a big reader, she liked to listen to the Black Keys, and she loved cinnamon in her hot chocolate; she had opted for that one morning a few weeks into this adventure, despite it being the middle of summer. 
“Isn’t this a bit out of season?” he gently teased, hoping to garner a real smile; she seemed down today, her half-smiles not quite reaching her eyes. 
She shrugged, eyes cast down. “Sometimes you just need things that bring a bit more comfort.”
“Love, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” He may have only known her for less than a month, but the thought of any trouble coming to her made his heart lurch.
She took another sip, then glanced around the hallway before opening her door. “Can you come in for a second?”
“Of course.”
He followed her and she shut the door behind him, but stayed close to it. A quick glance around the space showed that her place was much like his: sparse, with just the necessities—not many homey touches.
“Are we at the point where we can share tragic backstories?” she asked him shyly, leaning against the wall.
“I think so,” he confirmed, giving her a small smile of encouragement.
She exhaled. “Okay. Well, today...is my son’s birthday.”
His eyes grew wide and his breath hitched in his throat. “Your...you have a…?” He didn’t know what to say, especially considering it was pretty obvious that no child lived here. Oh, no—did he—?
“Had. Past tense.” His heart sank, but he didn’t want to interrupt. “I put him up for adoption. I wasn’t even 18 yet, and his dad was gone—abandoned me before he even knew. My foster mom helped me, but I knew I wasn’t ready, so I gave him up. I know that was the best thing for him, but I still...wonder. And I hope he’s okay.” She sniffled a bit, and wiped a tear from her eye.
But another one was escaping down the other cheek; he quickly set his mug down on a table by the door and reached up to brush it away. “Oh, Emma—I...I can’t imagine what that’s like. But...thank you for telling me.”
“You’re not gonna judge me?” Her voice was small and watery, and broke his heart in a whole different way.
“How could I? You made one of the hardest decisions anyone could make, and when you were a teenager no less. If anything, you’re probably one of the bravest people I know.”
There it was—that smile he’d been looking for. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she murmured.
He’d seen it before, but not as strong as it was right now—the guarded, lonely look in her eyes that all lost children had. It wasn’t something that was ever outgrown; he knew because he wore it, too. And his heart thudded in his chest again, adding to its list of acrobatics today in reaction to this brilliant woman—who was apparently even more of a kindred soul than he’d realized.
“A lass as fierce as you deserves to hear how awesome she is far more often than that,” he told her, tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear, before scratching behind his own—because now it was his turn to share. “But, ah, I know how rare that happens in the foster system.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. My brother and I ended up there after our mum died; dad was already out of the picture. Liam tried to get custody when he aged out, but they wouldn’t let him, so he went off to the Navy. He, uh, he was killed in action.”
“Oh my God—I’m so sorry.”
He swallowed and nodded. He didn’t often talk about his past, but given what Emma had told him, it seemed to be bubbling out of him today. “I floundered a bit after that—tried the Navy, too, but it didn’t take, and then I met Milah. It was a bit of whirlwind romance but I was head over heels, and she for me. Until her husband found out.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I...I can’t go into the details, but he...he killed her, and he did this,” he explained, nodding at his stump. “He’s in jail for life, at least, but...yeah. So that’s my story.”
“Oh, Killian.” She didn’t try to give any platitudes, like the few other people he was close with had at first; she just wrapped her arms around him, being careful of his injuries. It took him a bit by surprise at first—he could tell she wasn’t the touchy-feely type—but he didn’t wait long to wrap his free arm around her and pull her close. Something told him this hug was as much for her comfort as his.
Try as he might not to, he couldn’t help but notice how perfect she fit in his embrace, his arm naturally settling at her waist and her head resting on his shoulder (the good one). He closed his eyes and inhaled, surrounded by her scent—cinnamon and chocolate from her cocoa, and something lightly floral and sweet that didn’t quite match her rough exterior but suited her perfectly nonetheless.
He had an even harder time ignoring the bit of his subconscious that didn’t want to let go of her, not now and possibly not ever. And there was no way for him to overlook the way his heart leapt when she practically burrowed into his neck.
Until her phone went off and they jumped apart. That actually did kind of hurt, in more ways than one. 
“Sorry; I better—”
“Yeah, me too.” He could almost physically see her emotional walls going back up in the way she stiffened and retracted from him, making no effort to actually grab her phone and just using the interruption as an out. He understood why, though it stung a bit, but he’d be damned if he was the one making her uncomfortable.
“I—I have another work thing tonight, so I won’t be able to see you tomorrow; but...next day?”
“Can’t wait,” he answered, giving her his usual smile. He slipped out and almost had to run back to his place to get his work things, but cast another glance at Emma’s now-closed door as he passed.
Assuming that image wasn’t a metaphor, he couldn’t wait for the day he could truly wrap her in his arms, and maybe then some.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
So, hugging him was a bad idea. A completely terrible one. Not her worst ever—their prior conversation kind of displayed that—but recently? Yeah, that was awful.
Because she really should have known how great he would feel against her. She got a prime view of his upper body every day; she didn’t need to wrap herself around it to know he’d be firm and soft in the most perfect ways.
And she was already well aware of what he smelled like; did she really have to dive in for deeper whiff? (Or become any more aware of what the heat felt like rolling off him, warming both her body and soul?)
God bless her boss for that perfectly timed text. She did feel bad for the slight wince she caught on Killian’s face as she jumped away, and then even more for the white lie she gave about the next day—it wasn’t so much that she had a late night, but more that she knew she needed a day to cool off after that. Or to let the inevitable freak-out run its course, because who on earth tells a sob story like hers to someone they’ve barely known for a month? (Even if said person did the same.)
Killian seemed unfazed, though, so she took that as a good sign. Which she also did with the bag of pumpkin spice-flavored coffee she found outside her door the next morning, with her name scrawled on it in an unfairly beautiful script.
But, perfectly, that gave her a way to figure out where they were the following day. Things change when you bare your soul to another person, and honestly, her biggest fear was that she’d scared him off altogether.
So when that familiar, gentlemanly knock rapped on her door (how a knock could be prim and proper, she had no idea, but his was), she was ready to answer it with two mugs of her new brew.
“Who’s out of season now?” she teased, handing the cup over. Falling back on humor was something was a safeguard, but hopefully he’d still pick up on the way she was acknowledging their last conversation.
His usual early-morning sleepy smile morphed into an eyebrows-raised expression of surprise for a moment, but a dimpled smirk quickly took over.
He took the proffered mug and quipped, “Well, as a brilliant lass once told me, sometimes you just need something comforting, and I suppose there’s no wrong season on that.”
And just like that, things were okay. Why had she thought they wouldn’t be? It’s Killian, for fuck’s sake. She grinned back at him and set to work on his shirt and sling, maneuvers so well-practiced at this point she barely needed to look to make sure she was doing everything right, and they quickly fell back into their easy banter. 
“I think you could give lessons in buttoning a shirt, Swan; I’ve never seen fingers more nimble.”
“Oh? Who else has been buttoning your shirts lately? Should I be jealous?”
He chuckled, deep and low—a sound that went straight to certain sensitive parts of her. “Just Robin, on the days you’re busy. But the arse can’t even keep the rows straight and nearly strangled me with the sling.”
From the other end of the hallway, a slightly muffled shout called out “I heard that, you bellend!” from Robin’s apartment. Killian turned to bark back, “You were supposed to, ya bloody wanker!”
“God, you’re so British sometimes,” she laughed and started on the sling. 
“Well, you can take the man out of England, and so on. Even if it’s been 20 years.”
Things pretty much went back to normal after that, if a bit bolder on both their ends. They still chatted about anything and everything—he had some good stories about his culture shock when he first came over as a kid, shared his strongly held opinions on various rums, and she was able to figure out he had a lifelong love of Peter Pan (“but Pan himself is a prat; Hook, though—he’s an icon. And, y’know, we have something in common.” “I’m kind of surprised you don’t have a hook instead of your prosthetic.” “You haven’t seen me on Halloween, darling.”).
If her hands brushed his skin more often, she could probably chalk that up to their increased comfort with one another. If she found herself invading his personal space on a regular basis, it was easy to write that off as part of her helping him. And if she daydreamed about the freckles on his neck and where other ones might be...okay, she had no explanation for that. Actually, that one was his fault.
“So just what do you do at night?” she’d asked. “You don’t seem to need my help then.”
“Are you offering?” he tossed back, and she could see his tongue moving lasciviously behind his teeth as he smirked. She playfully slapped the uninjured shoulder as she continued to work. “Well, if you must know, it’s much easier to get all this off than it is to get it on. And as long as I don’t move around too much in my sleep, no harm, no foul.”
“So...no sleep shirt?”
“No sleep shirt,” he repeated, voice a bit lower than usual; she could feel it vibrating in his chest as she did the last button. It was a damn good thing she was staring at her work and not his eyes because she might have reinjured him at that moment.
Summer turned into early fall and Killian had just become a normal part of her mornings. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he’d get better at some point, but it wasn’t something she ever really focused on—not when she was enjoying herself with him far more than she had anyone else in recent memory.
So it was a bit of a bomb when he dropped the news on her one morning, roughly six weeks after he’d first knocked on her door.
“Um, it looks like this might be the last time I’m bothering you,” he stammered, staring at the floor as she did up his shirt for the countless-th time. “I’ve got an appointment with the doctor later on to see how it’s healed.”
“Oh,” she answered, sounding much more sad than she thought she would. “Uh, how’s it been feeling?”
“Pretty good; still a little sore, but that might be more with disuse than anything.”
“That’s...that’s good, then.” But was it? Was it really? Killian had basically become the highlight of her days and now that was just going to...end?
“Yeah, I...guess so.” At least he sounded as unenthused at the prospect as she was. 
She was tempted to offer to push him down the stairs to keep things going, but who only knew what kind of damage that would do, so she held back and kept focused on the task at hand. Which was suddenly becoming blurry; how did a shirt get blurry?
“I truly can’t thank you enough, Swan, for helping me out so generously. Getting to know you...has been the best part of this.”
“My pleasure,” she replied, not knowing what else to say and hoping he couldn’t hear how watery her voice was.
But, of course, he did. “We’ll still see each other around, right?”
“I dunno; you live really far away,” she quipped back, hiding behind her walls again. He was one of the few people to get through them and if he was backing out, she needed to start rebuilding them.
“I think I can manage getting over here from time to time,” he said, with that dumb sweet soft smile she loved and hated equally. “You’re definitely worth the journey.”
Now she was blushing and almost crying. She didn’t know that was a thing. And she knew if she tried to say anything, she’d probably just put her foot in her mouth, so she silently focused on the task at hand, almost reverent in her care. 
She tightened the strap on the sling—probably for the last time—and stepped back to survey her work. But Killian caught her hand before she got too far away, and found her eyes with his intense blue gaze. 
“Seriously, Emma—I couldn’t have gotten through this without you. It certainly wasn’t how I had planned on making your acquaintance, but now...I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He brought her hand to his lips, just like the first time, and placed a gentle but firm kiss on the back, never breaking eye contact. “Thank you.”
She was left no less speechless than she was back then, but she couldn’t reply as casually as she had; too much had passed between them now. Really, only one thing popped into her mind, and she acted on instinct. 
Squeezing his hand tight, she rose up on her toes and found his lips with hers. Why her mind went straight to kissing, she had no idea, but there was no turning back now—especially not when he broke her grasp to pull her close, and her arms snaked around his neck. 
There was none of the hesitation on his part like when they hugged despite this being a whole other magnitude of physical contact, but that didn’t register until after the fact; right now, all she could focus on was how talented his tongue was against hers and how he tasted of that delicious pumpkin spice coffee. Damn, he was good at this; what other things was he good at?
But then her fucking phone went off again, making them break apart. And then it sunk in: she kissed him. What the hell? This changed everything. (Or worse: what if it didn’t?)
“I, uh…” she stuttered, her speechlessness catching up to and now paired with breathlessness. 
“That was…” He sounded equally wrecked. 
“I’ve...I’ve gotta get that. I’ll see you around. Good luck today. Just...leave the mug when you finish it. Um...yeah.” She cast one lady glance at his utterly fuckstruck face before turning around and heading back inside, collapsing against the door once it was closed. 
But before it shut, she’d heard him say three perfect words: “As you wish.”
What the fuck—what did she just do?
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
He didn’t dream that, did he? Did Emma just kiss him within an inch of his life?
He’d managed to blurt out the only thing that came to mind after she blabbered her way out of whatever that encounter was, but after the door shut, he had to lean against the wall next to it, lest his legs give out. 
His fingers found his kiss-swollen lips and he let out a long exhale, reminding himself how out of breath he’d been left. 
Bloody hell, that really happened. He’d certainly imagined it many times—and other, far more intimate things while enjoying a bit of self-love—but the real thing put all his daydreams to shame. The way she’d pressed herself against him, warm and soft; her sweet scent mixed with her savory flavor; but most of all, how he swore their hearts were beating in time for one star-crossed moment. (Yes, he was being dramatic, but that was pretty much his M.O.)
He shook his head to clear his brain; he couldn’t stand there all day being lovestruck, or else he might still be there once Emma finally went on her way. Which he typically wouldn’t consider a bad thing were it not for the way she attempted to close herself off at the end. He knew what she was doing—trying to protect herself—and he’d give her some space for the moment. 
But, as he headed back to his place and out into the day, he started formulating a plan. He knew other people had walked out on Emma and that was surely what she was expecting of him—but he’d be damned if he let that be the case.
He’d barely made it in the door of his apartment that evening when he shook off his jacket, tossed the sling on the back of his sofa, and turned around to knock on that familiar door again. He still wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do or say, but Emma hadn’t seen him for the last time.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
The first thing Emma saw when she got home that night was the mug Killian used that day still sitting on her kitchen counter, waiting to be washed and put away, where it would probably sit unused for a long while. She didn’t do the whole having-friends-over thing, so despite her small collection of mugs, she tended to just use her favorite one every day. Even if washing two was a bit extra work, she was glad to do it if it meant having Killian’s company.
She sighed for what felt like forever. He didn’t need her anymore. Regardless of how he kissed her today, that was the truth of it, unless the doctor had bad news. It would still have to come to an end eventually, though; better to rip off the bandage now.
Why she kissed him, she still didn’t know. That wasn’t like her. She was no stranger to one-night rendezvous but there was never an emotional connection with those, not like she’d developed with him. In some way, it was putting the ball in his court, she guessed. He wasn’t the kind of guy to take advantage of a situation, she knew, but life had taught her to not hold onto too much hope, despite the constant preaching of her best friend.
So when a knock came at the door, she just assumed it was the pizza she’d ordered on her way home. At least she had that to look forward to—and the bottle of wine in the cupboard. 
“Thank God, I’m star—ving…” she started as she opened the door, but trailed off when she saw what was on the other side: not some scrawny delivery boy, but Killian. “Uh, hi.”
He looked just as amazing as he had that morning: slightly disheveled hair, blue plaid shirt, and those well-fitting pants that she had watched saunter away more than once. But something was missing. 
“No sling,” she said, though it came a bit more like a question. 
“Nope; clean bill of health.”
“That’s good then.” She wasn’t anywhere near as enthusiastic as she probably should have been. “So...what are you doing here?”
She could see the wheels turning in his brain—he was working up to something. He wet his lip with his tongue, but couldn’t seem to get the words out.
As distracting as that tick was, her nervous side started to bubble. “I mean, it’s not like you need help getting your shirt on or anything,” she quipped anxiously.
He immediately smirked and his eyebrows leapt in amusement. Oh no—she just fed him a line, didn’t she?
“No,” he drawled, taking a swaggering step forward. “But I’d be glad to have your assistance in taking it off.”
If it were anyone else, she’d call it out for the skeezy come-on it was, but not him. He knew he was being ridiculous and he wanted to see what she’d do. And it didn’t help that he couldn’t keep the sincerity out of his voice.
There was really only one way for her to reply to that. She stepped up to meet him and found the top button, the one that let that tempting thatch of hair below it breathe. For a second, she just traced it with her fingertip, then went ahead and undid it. Her heart was racing the entire time and she was pretty sure Killian stopped breathing, especially once she looked up at him to see that he was staring at her intently. 
“I can think of worse ways to end the day,” she told him, echoing their first conversation.
He started to smile but she didn’t give him the chance to unleash his full grin before she grabbed his flannel collar and pulled him to her. His lips didn’t taste quite the same as they had that morning but it didn’t matter; she wanted to discover all his flavors, every day. 
She tugged him inside her apartment and he kicked the door shut behind them as the kiss continued. Her fingers continued to work at his shirt, undoing her earlier handiwork, and his hand and wrist drifted to her waist. 
It was a bit jarring when her back hit the edge of her kitchen island, but she just took that as a chance to switch directions. She released the last button, letting his shirt fall open, and then slipped her hands under the fabric on his shoulders as she pushed the two of them in the direction of the couch. 
Her hands drifted to his trim waist as she guided them around the end of the sofa, only breaking the kiss to make sure she wasn’t pushing him into any obstructions (god, she’d be so embarrassed if she broke him again). But as soon as they were clear, she pushed him down onto the cushions and then one by one set her knees on either side of his lap to straddle him.
HIs gaze had darkened considerably, the normal sky blue turning a hazy midnight, and his hand had somehow found its way to her ass and was cupping it reverently—which shouldn’t have even been a thing, but this was Killian; that was just how he was.
They’d sufficiently reclaimed their breaths, evidently, because they surged forward to meet again, and Emma’s hand drifted back up to his collarbones. She tried to be gentle, but need was overtaking her as she pushed the soft fabric down over his shoulders to his biceps, squeezing the muscles as she went, until—
—Until he pulled back, wincing and hissing in pain. Fuck. “Oh god, are you alright? What did I do?”
“It’s fine, love,” he said reassuringly, letting his head fall back against the couch (and giving her a perfect view of those freckles on his neck that just looked so damn kissable but now was not the moment). “Just still a bit sore; take it easy on me, aye?”
“Easier said than done,” she blurted, not even thinking about it. He cocked an eyebrow in amusement and she felt her entire face flush red, and not from arousal. “God, I fucked this up, didn’t I?”
“How on earth could you have done that?”
“Because I don’t know how to do...this,” she said, gesturing between them.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Emma—you’re a marvelous kisser.” He winked (poorly) and squeezed his hand, which was still on her rear end.
“Ha,” she answered dryly. “Just...why are you even here?”
HIs face lost its humor and turned serious, but there was still a softness that made her heart melt a little bit. “Well in case you hadn’t noticed, I quite fancy you. And I couldn’t bear to never see you again.” 
She looked away. “Well, it wouldn’t be never. Our mailboxes are right next to each other,” she deflected.  
“I know but...I want more than that.” His hand finally left her back pocket and nudged itself under her chin, guiding her eyes back to his. “I’ve spent nearly every morning for the last six weeks with you, darling, and I’m sure you’ve picked up that I’m a creature of habit. And starting each day with you is one tradition that I’d be loath to lose.”
He’d never been more honest with her, she could tell. And it was a little overwhelming. 
“What do you say, love?”
Despite her past, despite her fears and heartbreaks, and despite his, she took a deep breath, swallowed, and stared into his intense gaze. “It’s a date.”
He broke into that adorable, wide-eyed, incandescent grin that she couldn’t help but return, but it was quickly drowned by another round of kissing (much gentler on her part). 
And it was also quickly determined that her bed was much softer than the couch. 
They left a trail of clothes from the living room to her bedroom, but she insisted he keep the shirt on until the last minute. 
They were kneeling on her bed, naked save for that bit of cotton, which she finally pushed down off the ends of his arms.
“How long have you been waiting to do that?” he asked, voice low and breath hot on her ear.
“Since the day you first showed up.”
He pulled her tight to him with his left arm and she finally got to enjoy the divine feel of his chest hair and warm skin against hers—somehow more amazing than even her imagination had come up with, both soft and coarse, teasing and abrasive; kind of a lot like him. 
And then he was guiding her to laying down, and after only minor fumbling, was pressing inside her, which is when most coherent thought ended on her part. There was a lot of “fuck”, “damn”, “yes”, and “YES” going on, from both of them, as he thrust in and out and she met him move for move.
She worried he’d aggravate something again after they came (an incredible moment, really) and he collapsed alongside her, but she held onto his shoulders in some vain attempt at support, and he was clearly practiced in relying on his right arm. They did the necessary cleaning up stuff, but then fell back into bed and he pulled her close. 
For the first time in ages, she spent the night in a guy’s arms and wasn’t looking for an escape route.
(Having him a few more times over the course of the night probably helped. She was already looking forward to when he was less sore and she could be on top.)
(The pizza and wine were icing on the cake, though she probably scarred the delivery boy by answering the door in just Killian’s shirt. She got to see just how nimble those fingers were when it was his turn to unbutton—and then when he used them to make her come undone as well.)
The next morning, she got out that second mug again as she brewed another batch of pumpkin spice coffee.
And proceeded to button his shirt for him, albeit sadly, now that she knew what lay underneath.
But it was okay, because she got to undo it again that night, and every night thereafter.
(The only morning she didn’t button him up was on their wedding day.)
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
thanks for reading!!! tagging some friends:  @kat2609​ @thesschesthair​ @optomisticgirl​ @shipsxahoy​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​ @mryddinwilt​ @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @distant-rose​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @pirateherokillian​ @bleebug​ @its-imperator-furiosa​ @fergus80​ @killianmesmalls​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @ineffablecolors​ @laschatzi​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​ @nfbagelperson​ @stubblesandwich​​ @killian-whump​​ @lenfaz​ @phiralovesloki​ @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​
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Tipping Point - 7
Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Reader (friendship); Reader x Noah
Word Count: 7052
Rating: M (language.)
Summary: Benjamin’s settling in at your place in Chicago and getting to know Noah a little better - but does he like what he learns? And you head into the city for a weekend of baseball - but things take a turn, leading to Eric asking a question that Benjamin isn’t quite ready to answer. 
Author’s Note: I have been super excited to write more of you and Benjamin interacting, and this is just the tip of the iceberg. Thank you to everyone that’s taken the time to read this so far, and that has given me such positive feedback. 
The bar that Noah took him to was much different than the ones that he’d been to with Eric, but Benjamin didn’t mind the crowd. Much younger. Everyone’s more relaxed. He’d ben to a few dive bars in and around London, but not for years, and seeing an American one was eye opening. “You know…” Noah spoke from next to him, where he was sitting on a tall stool, his elbows resting on the bartop. “I thought that you’d stick out here, dressed like that, but it’s…” He laughed. “It’s … do you even know how many women have been staring at you?” Benjamin glanced down at his outfit, frowning. What’s wrong with this? Despite the warm temperature, Benjamin had dressed in light gray jeans and a black tee, the top fitted but not tight, neckline slightly deeper than usual. This is what I wear, what is he… “Not a lot of guys’d wear jeans that color, but…” Noah raised his beer, gesturing to Benjamin with it before drinking. “It works for you.” What’s that supposed to mean?
 They’d driven together to the bar, Noah sliding behind the wheel after kissing you goodbye at your front door, your laughter slightly more embarrassed than Benjamin had ever heard it as you stepped back from the man, hand going to your mouth. You’d asked Noah what had gotten into him, and Benjamin fought to keep himself from rolling his eyes as Noah answered, telling you that he didn’t know. It’s a show, is what it is. But instead of being rude as he had been previously to Benjamin, Noah made small talk in the car, and then again as they ordered a round of drinks from the bartender, a pretty woman in a low cut top, probably a few years younger than Benjamin. 
 “You gonna see what happens with anyone while you’re here?” Noah turned to face him, eyes on Benjamin’s face. “You’ve still got a little over a week, right?” He nodded, sipping on his own beer. “I’ve heard all about your divorce, so -” And what exactly have you heard, Noah? 
 “It was an annulment, actually.” Benjamin felt his lip curl slightly. “Made the most sense, because I didn’t want anything from her, just… just for her to be happy.” And for me to be happy, too. “And I’m not looking for a rebound. I loved my wife very much, so even though it’s been a little over seven months since I first moved out and went back to London, it’s still…” Raw. “I’ll see what happens, though.” Benjamin took a longer drink of his beer, raising a finger to signal that he wanted another. “American women seem to be a lot more friendly.” I don’t want any of them, not like this. 
 “It’s the accent, Benjamin. ” He scoffed at that, nodding at the bartender as she set his drink down in front of him, smoothly popping the top off and winking at him as she did so. “You open your mouth, and -”
 “Hi.” A female voice interrupted Noah, and both men turned on their stools to look. “Couldn’t help listening in to your conversation.” The woman grinned, looking Benjamin up and down. “Here from England? I heard  the accent.” He nodded, deciding to let things go on, seeing what she’d say. “What’re you in town for?” Visiting. Seeing what… 
 “I’ve never been to the United States before, actually.” Benjamin went with honesty, shrugging. “My roommate’s from here, and he invited me back home with him.” Her eyes lit up, the woman scooting closer. “So…” He took a deep breath. “I’m Benjamin.” He stuck his hand out, feeling anxious as she took it and shook it, her hold on him a little tighter than he expected. “You are?” She introduced herself as Amanda and Benjamin gave her a small smile, inwardly cringing. This is awkward. I forgot how awkward meeting people is. 
 “And I’m Noah.” The man leaned over, extending his own hand and waiting for the girl to shake it. “Haven’t ever seen you in here before.” Do you drink here often? 
 “I just started coming here, actually.” She laughed, sipping her drink. “I’m meeting friends later, I wanted to get here early.” She gestured over her shoulder. “I’m waiting for a table to open, so I thought I’d sit at the bar for a while.” 
 “What’s the occasion?” Benjamin’s smile at that was genuine; he heard the excitement in the woman’s voice. “It’s a weeknight, so it’s got to be something -”
 “I got promoted!” She grinned, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I didn’t think I was going to get the job, but I did, and…” That’s great news. 
 “Congratulations.” He raised his drink, tipping it toward her, and Benjamin waited until she’d lifted hers too before he took a sip. “Definitely worth celebrating.” 
 --- 
 Over the next hour, Benjamin and Noah moved from the bar to a larger table with the woman, introducing themselves when her friends showed up and sharing a few pitchers of beer. He found himself relaxing slightly, and though all of the women were attentive and attractive - and the first one he’d met, Amanda, was clearly interested in him, Benjamin kept things friendly, never allowing himself to get to the point where he was outright flirting back. It wasn’t only because of the way that he was feeling about you - his lingering feelings for Julia and the haste with which he’d started that relationship were also impacting his behavior. But that doesn’t bother me when I’m talking with… He shook his head, finishing his drink - the one he’d already declared to the table that would be his final one - and pulled his phone out, glancing at it. 
 There were no missed messages, no alerts, nothing for him to worry about, but Benjamin excused himself from the table anyway, stepping out the back door of the bar and onto the small patio. Just need some air. Need a break. Amanda and her friends were nice, but even though it was barely 10 pm, Benjamin was ready to leave. I just want to be back at… He thumbed through his phone, looking at images and choosing a few to post as an update on Facebook. ...back at the house. He thought about sending you a text, decided against it, and then a few seconds later, typed one anyway. What’s the harm in it? What’s an appropriate time to say I want to come back? 
 Your response was immediate - much faster than he’d expected. Not having a good time? No I don’t want her to think that, I… He frowned and thought, typing again. 
I’m just not used to drinking in the middle of the week. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. If she and Eric were here, I’d have no problem staying out. His phone buzzed again, Benjamin’s eyes going back to the screen. 
 THANK YOU. I try to tell Noah that, but for some reason, he likes going out during the week more than on weekends. By the time he’d finished reading it, you’d sent another message. You don’t have to stay out, Benjamin. Just tell him you’re ready to come home. Without giving himself a chance to truly think about the fact that you’d called your house ‘home’ for the second time, Benjamin turned and walked into the bar, headed back to the table everyone was at. Noah was telling a story, and as Benjamin neared the group, he heard Noah say your name, followed by the words “a friend of mine.” What? He blinked, freezing in his tracks. Friend? I… they… 
 “Benjamin’s back!” Amanda was tipsy, stepping toward Benjamin and holding her arms out. “You were gone a long time.” Not now. Don’t think about it now. He laughed, taking the final few steps to the table and gently pushing her arms down, but once glance at Noah confirmed what Benjamin feared: he’d heard something that he wasn’t supposed to. Oh, I think it’s time to go. Doing his best to re-join the conversation, Benjamin waited until Noah had finished his drink before suggesting that they head out, making the excuse that he was tired. I’ll take the blame for this one too, I just need… 
 Before they left the bar, Amanda hugged him tightly and Benjamin felt her hand moving against his back pocket, hearing her giggle. “Gave you m’number, Benjamin.” She rose onto her tiptoes, kissing his cheek. That’s forward. “Call me before you go back to London.” He didn’t agree, but instead squeezed her upper arms, and a few minutes later, he was back in the car with Noah. Before they pulled out of the parking lot, Noah assured Benjamin that he was good to drive. 
 “Couplea beers over a couple hours? I’m fine.” Noah laughed. “You know, you’re not bad, Benjamin. That Amanda seemed to really like you, and it looked like you were -”
 “She gave me her number.” Benjamin pulled it out of his pocket, looking at the napkin. “That hasn’t happened in… well, since before Julia.” Noah laughed, making the turn onto the main road. “I’m not going to call her, she probably won’t remember giving it to me, and I don’t -”
 “Jesus, Benjamin, you’re div...sep..annulled, whatever, you’re not dead.” He recoiled at that, staring at the man next to him. “And she’s hot, so you’d be dumb not to call.” Is she? 
 “Might not have time, Noah.” Benjamin shook his head. “We’ve got plans all weekend, and then next week, I’m planning on taking the train back into Chicago to see everything that we can’t see while we’re there for the games.” You’d been upset thinking that Benjamin would be in the city alone, but he reminded you that he’d been alone for longer than he’d been with anyone. “I just don’t know if…” 
 “Whatever, man.” Noah sighed. “Your loss.” Why are you saying that if you… 
 “Noah.” Benjamin decided to press his luck. “When I came back inside, I heard you talking.” Noah nodded. “I heard you say that…” He trailed off, thinking, and then said your name. “You called her your friend, not your girlfriend, and I just… I guess I thought…”
 “Look.” Noah cleared his throat. “We’re dating. But there’s…” Benjamin felt his heart pounding in his chest. “There’s no label on it, never has been.” So she’s not his… “It’s just dating. She’s not my girlfriend - that’s such a stupid word.” Is it? “I was still seeing other people for the first couple weeks, Benjamin.” Excuse me? “I’m not now, haven’t for a while, but, you know how it is.” No, I don’t. He went silent, and Benjamin did too, staring out the window. Why didn’t she tell me? “It’s just fun.” 
 You’d never used the word boyfriend when referring to Noah, and Benjamin realized that you never talked in any detail about your status with the man. Except to tell me she didn’t know if she was happy. Noah’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Benjamin focused again. He asked why I cared. 
 “I… we’ve talked a lot over the last couple months, and I guess I just assumed that since she said you were dating, it was a -” That it was a defined relationship.
 “She’s called me her boyfriend?” Benjamin told him no, fighting to keep from snapping the response. Would that really be so terrible? “To be honest, since we decided to start this whole thing, the topic’s never come up again, so I’ve never brought it up.” Noah shrugged, turning down your street. “It is what it is. Maybe after you and Eric leave, it’ll...things’ll be different.” She could have told me. She … what would Eric think? Noah parked in your driveway, and Benjamin noticed that Eric’s car was still gone.  Wait, after we leave? What does that even matter? “Ah. good. That means I’ll stay.” Benjamin gritted his teeth but didn’t say anything, following the man to your front door, where he paused, reaching for his phone. “Hold on, let me call, she’ll have to -”
 “I’ve got a key.” Benjamin reached into his pocket, fishing his wallet out of it. “She gave it to me in case I left when she wasn’t home. Eric’s got one, too.” He saw Noah’s shoulders tense up, and Benjamin felt a small sense of satisfaction at the movement. Good. “Look out.” He reached past Noah, turning the key in the lock, and when the front door opened, they stepped into the darkness. She must be sleeping. Benjamin slipped his boots off, lining them up next to the door as he had been the entire time he’d stayed with you. “I’m going to bed, Noah. Thanks for…”
 “No problem, Benjamin.” Noah cracked his neck, glancing up at the stairs. “See you in the morning.” Great. He nodded once, watching as Noah went upstairs, and then Benjamin turned back to his room, trying to push the thoughts of the last conversation out of his mind. On his way back from the bathroom, Noah again stopped him in the hallway. Where’s he going? “She’s asleep. I’m not going to stay.” Oh. He wondered for a second if the alcohol that Noah had consumed was causing him to let his guard down. Makes sense. “Tell her that I came in?” 
 “Yeah, of course.” He sighed, telling Noah to be careful, and then the man left, Benjamin locking the door behind him. Quietly retreating into his room, Benjamin stretched out on top of the mattress, flipping idly through channels on the TV and thinking of the revelation Noah had made - and what it meant that you hadn’t said anything to him about it. Just beginning to doze off, he was startled awake by a knock on the door. Eric? “Come in.” He cleared his throat. “I’m awake.” The door slowly opened and Benjamin watched as you peeked in, one hand holding onto the edge of the door. 
 “You decent?” Assuring you that he was, you opened the door all the way, giving him a small smile. “Just wanted to see how your night was.” 
 “Noah said you were asleep.” You rubbed a hand over your face, stepping closer. 
 “I…” You paused. “I pretended to be asleep.” Why? “He’s gotta be up early for work, and I want to sleep in. Plus, I didn’t want to hear him talk about ...” You wet your lips, shaking your head. Talk about what?  “Can I sit?” Gesturing to the space next to Benjamin with one hand, you waited. 
 “It’s your house.” Without hesitation, you took the final few steps, lowering yourself onto the bed next to Benjamin, though you left space between the two of you. What is she doing? Though he was hurt that you’d kept something as big as technically being single from him, he was determined not to let it change the way he spoke to you. She’s gotta have her reasons. “Didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.” 
 “Well he said he was taking you to Landmark, and I know the kind of crowd that’s usually there.”  You looked over at him. “And then you texted and said you wanted to come back here, so...didn’t you have fun, Benjamin?” He shifted, sitting up straight and keeping his legs stretched out in front of him. It was alright. He spent the next few minutes recapping the night, telling you about the table of people they’d joined. “Sounds like Noah. He’s always talking to people and making friends.” Friends or friends? “Meet anyone you liked?” He didn’t want to read into it, but he could have sworn that there was hesitation when you spoke, almost as if you didn’t really want to know the answer.
 “One girl, actually, her name’s Amanda. She slipped me her number as we were leaving, but it wasn’t in my pocket when I changed, so I’m not sure what happened to it.” You laughed at that, and Benjamin realized that you’d moved a little closer to him. “So if you find a napkin with a woman’s name and number in Noah’s car, it’s mine and I dropped it. It’s not his.” He turned his head to look at you, and Benjamin raised one eyebrow. “And that’s not just me covering for him, either.”  
 “Noted.” You took a breath as you watched him. “So you liked her?” That’s what you picked up on? 
 “She was nice. Seemed a little young.” He shrugged, turning his head again to look away, his eyes on the empty space in front of him. “Let me put it this way.” I want to say something but now’s not the time. I’ll see what this weekend’s like. “Not having her number isn’t a tragedy that I’m going to lose sleep over.” You didn’t laugh, but he heard a quiet sigh and felt you lean against him - just your shoulder, but it was something. “Is Eric not coming back tonight?”
 “No, he called a while ago and said he’d be staying at Michelle’s. They dated for a while before he left, and I think they might get back together.” The name was familiar to him, and Benjamin realized that though Eric had brought home a few women in the months he’d lived with the man, Michelle’s name was one that was brought up often. “I hope they do. I like her.” You both went silent, and after a few seconds, Benjamin held out the remote to you. 
 “If you’re gonna stay for a while, pick something to watch.” You changed the channels a few times before settling on a sitcom, and even though Benjamin made it through the remainder of the episode, you fell asleep after only a few minutes, your body relaxing against his. Don’t get used to this. Though he would have loved to let you sleep the rest of the night next to him, Benjamin knew that it wasn’t the right call. She’s seeing someone. This isn’t right. Your relationship status wasn’t his business, and he wouldn’t allow you to put yourself into a questionable situation, especially not with him. 
 He stared at your sleeping face, the light from the TV screen flickering over it, and then said your name, leaning in so that he didn’t have to speak loudly. “Wha-” You blinked as you woke up, lips parting in surprise, your eyes only a few inches from his. “I fell asleep, I -”
 “I know.” He bit down on his lip, pausing. “That’s why I’m waking you up.” You stretched, yawning, and Benjamin felt your fingers brush the side of his head as you raised your arms, humming quietly to yourself. “Didn’t want you to…” He stopped, waiting until you opened your eyes and stared back at him. “Didn’t want you to wake up next to me in the morning and feel…” Regret. 
 “Benjamin, I -” He shook his head, cutting you off.
 “Besides, I don’t know if you move around in your sleep, and the last thing I want is to wake up in the middle of the night because you’ve kicked me.” You laughed at that, climbing off of the bed and standing next to it, staring down at him. Neither of you spoke, and then you headed back for the door, pausing when you reached it and spinning back around to look at him. 
 “I fell asleep.” He nodded. “So I owe you an episode.” What? “We were watching a show, and I fell asleep, so I owe you another episode of something before…” He watched as you lowered your gaze and then brought it back up to meet his. “Before you go back to London.” Confused by the tone of your voice coupled with the information he’d gotten out of Noah earlier, Benjamin just nodded, watching you before he said your name again, even more quietly. 
 “Whatever you want.”  
--- 
 “Alright, so.” You were standing in front of him, hands on your hips. “Your goal for this weekend is to pick a team.” He felt himself holding back a smile, but didn’t speak, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll be seeing both stadiums, watching both teams, and after you’ve done that… you’ll have to tell me which one you like better.” You paused. “Tell us which one you like better.” Eric was still in the other room, packing his things for the weekend trip, but he knew that you were referring to your brother. “He just likes baseball, so he’ll root for whoever, but I’m curious about wh-” You stopped speaking as Benjamin stepped forward, holding up a hand. 
 “Can’t you just tell me which team you like so that -”
 “No. That’s not how this works.” You rolled your eyes, turning away from him and back to the bed, where his overnight bag was sitting open. ‘I don’t want to influence you, so I’m not going to say a word.” He knew that you meant it - when you’d told him that there was a weekend during his visit with Eric that both Chicago baseball teams would be home, he’d told you to get tickets to a game in each stadium (he’d called them arenas at first, the sound of your laughter still fresh in his mind). 
 The four of you - Eric, Benjamin, Noah and you - were seeing the Cubs play on Friday night, followed by a Saturday White Sox game, and so rather than driving back and forth, you’d also booked rooms in a hotel closer to the city center. 
 Noah would be meeting the three of you at Wrigley since he’d had to work later, so the train ride in from Northbrook had been just the three of you, and Benjamin had enjoyed it immensely. You were different when Noah wasn’t around, and though he didn’t want to say anything, Benjamin thought you seemed happier away from the man, much more relaxed as you joked with him and your brother. Maybe I’m just reading into it. But Eric seemed to notice a change too, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Benjamin as you talked on the train, an amused look on his face. There’s nothing to look at, Eric. Stop it. 
 He’d watched the city come into focus, and though London was impressive, Chicago awed him. Despite the limited amount of the city that he’d seen as you took a cab from Union station to the hotel north of the river, Benjamin knew he’d enjoy exploring the area, though it was much more densely populated and arranged than he was used to. The buildings, they’re all so…
 “You look a little overwhelmed, Greene.” Eric slapped him in the arm, laughing. “This is nothing. Wait til we start walking around tomorrow.” He said your name, Benjamin’s head swiveling toward where you stood at the reception desk. “She’s excited, Benjamin.” I am too. “If I didn’t know any better…” Eric trailed off, shaking his head as you started to walk back toward them. “Nah. Nevermind.” He cleared his throat. “Watch this.” Eric grinned, waiting until you’d handed him and Benjamin the room keys to speak. “Do we have time to stop at Portillo’s bef -”
 “No. I mean, you do, but you’re not taking Benjamin to fill up on that food before we get to the stadium.” You smiled up at him, the excitement visible in your eyes. “He’s gotta get the real experience, and that means ballpark food.” 
 That had been nearly an hour earlier, and though you’d split up after taking the elevator up to your floor, Benjamin found himself answering your knock on the door, letting you into his room while Eric finished getting ready. The man was held up after taking a phone call from Michelle and rather than eavesdropping, Benjamin decided to spend a few extra minutes with you before heading out. “So you’ll be asking for a detailed essay on what team I -”
 “No.” You sat on the bed, adjusting your top, which was loose fitting, hanging off of one shoulder. “Not an essay. I just wanna know if I can trust your judgement, Benjamin.” Excuse me? “There’s only one correct answer, and I want to know if you…”
 “Fine.” He sat down on the chair opposite you, resting his arms atop the back. “But what if I pick the wrong team?” He decided to play along, wetting his lips and tilting his head to the side. “What does that say about me?” You stared at him for long moments, eyes moving over his face, and then you grinned too, standing up and tugging on the bottom hem of your shorts, pulling them back into place. 
 “I’ll just chalk it up to you not knowing baseball, Benjamin.” You winked at him, turning away to grab your purse and phone. “But you won’t pick wrong. I know you.” Do you? I’d like to think you do. “Now let’s go. Eric, you better be ready.” She’s serious. This will be interesting.  
 The train wasn’t terrible, but Benjamin was surprised at how crowded it became the closer to the stadium you got, and he was totally unprepared for the large and rowdy crowd milling around outside of the station when the three of them exited. “Please don’t lose me,” he pled with you, reaching out to touch your shoulder. “I’ll find the stadium, but -”
 “Wouldn’t dream of it, Benjamin.” You smiled at him, and to his surprise, you took his hand, squeezing it gently. “Come on, we’re going to stop at a bar first and have a beer before going in.” He heard your words, but the only thing Benjamin could focus on was the way that your palm felt against his, fingers curled together. She’s just making sure we don’t get separated. It’s not a big deal. Bringing his gaze up from your joined hands, he met Eric’s eyes, his own widening in anticipation of the other man making a snide remark. But instead of speaking, Eric just shrugged his shoulders, continuing to walk toward your destination - a bar/restaurant aptly named Cubby Bear. 
 You let go of his hand only after reaching the bar and ordering, Benjamin’s shoulder pressed against yours on one side and Eric’s on the other, and one beer was enough for him. There’s so many people. He’d been to the pubs before and after football games before, but it seemed to him that Americans took baseball very seriously - most of the people in the bar were wearing jerseys or t shirts representing their team of choice, and Benjamin saw that there was an overwhelming sea of blue; your dark gay shirt and his black one standing out, along with Eric’s, which was a slightly different blue. It was loud in the bar, music playing along with people talking and laughing, and though Benjamin saw a few women throw him glances, he paid no attention, instead focusing on you and Eric - leaning in to talk into your ear or tilting his head to hear your reply. This is insane. He took it in stride, but breathed a sigh of relief when the three of you stepped outside and the noise level dropped slightly. “I’m going to stand next to you all night, Greene.” Eric nudged him with his elbow. “Did you see that blonde that was -” What are you doing, Eric? “Wait until you get into the stadium, Benjamin, the women on this side of town are something else.” But the way you looked at me before, I thought… He felt you stiffen next to him, but you didn’t say anything, instead touching his elbow and pointing toward the crosswalk. 
 “Gotta take a picture with the sign, Benjamin.” His gaze moving upward, Benjamin stared at the massive sign showing the name of the stadium as well as the day’s matchup. “It’s tradition. This is one of the oldest in the country, and it -” You were cut off by Noah’s voice, calling your name, and though Benjamin wasn’t positive, he thought he heard you swear under your breath. “Hey, Noah.” You stepped away from Benjamin, who was surprised to see the other man wrap his arms around you in a lingering hug, kissing the top of your head. “Just telling Benjamin that he has to get a picture with the sign, it -”
 “Definitely.” Noah reached up, adjusting the brim of his blue hat, and Benjamin noticed for the first time that the man was wearing a jersey too, the top button undone, the bottom untucked over a pair of khaki shorts. “You can’t visit Wrigley for the first time without taking one.” Alright. He ran a hand through his hair, handing over his phone to you, and Benjamin listened to your directions, telling him where to stand. He watched as you took the picture, telling him that you were going to take a few, though he was focused, he also watched as Noah looked around, attention everywhere but on you. 
 “Alright, can we go in now?” Eric was already inching toward the gate, annoyance in his tone. “I’m starving.” You laughed as Benjamin stepped back toward you, reaching for his phone. Hope she got a good one. As the four of you joined the long line of people waiting to file in, you spoke once more, the excitement back in your voice.
 “Alright, Benjamin, let’s go watch some baseball.” 
--- 
 By the middle of the fourth inning, Benjamin was engrossed in the game, finding himself cheering when the teams made close plays and groaning when they missed them. It’s a game of patience, he thought as he let out a breath when the Cubs pitcher struck out the side. Skill and patience and - “So how are you liking baseball, Benjamin?” Noah was leaning back in his seat, one arm lazily tossed around your shoulders. “This is your first game, right?”
 “It is. It’s a little hard to follow - to see why some are strikes and others aren’t, but when it’s in play, it’s a lot of fun.”
 “A lot more fun when we’re winning, hmm?” He gestured to the scoreboard. “Like now, because the -” We? Are you on the team, Noah?
 “It’s a fucking July game against the Pirates, Noah.” He rarely heard you swear without good cause, and Benjamin’s eyes widened. “It’s not really that much of a surprise.” Noah straightened up, removing his arm from where it was laying and reaching for his beer. “If they were playing the Cards and were up 8-0 going into the fifth, that would be something to brag about, but -
 “Back me up here, Eric.” Noah swallowed, leaning forward and looking around you at your brother, who was sitting between you and Benjamin. “A win’s a win, and it doesn’t matter who the other team is, the record’s the only thing that’s important.” Noah groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. 
 “She’s right, actually.” Benjamin pressed his lips together, fighting back a laugh. “Noah, it’s against their number four starter, and it’s not -” You threw your hands up and muttered “thank you” under your breath, turning to look at Benjamin. 
 “See?” You shrugged. “Baseball brings out the -” But you were interrupted by Noah’s hand falling onto your bare knee, his fingers tightening. “What’s -”
 “I’m gonna go get another beer and something to eat. Does anyone want anything?” The abrupt change in topic surprised him, but Benjamin took it in stride, shaking his head. I was going to go and get something else too, but now I...You and Eric both said no, and Noah quickly exited the row, disappearing back toward the concourse. The three of you stayed quiet, watching a batter, and then Eric spoke, curiosity in his tone. 
 “I normally wouldn’t even ask this, but...are things OK with you and Noah? You guys seem… I don’t know, off.” I don’t want to hear this conversation, maybe I’ll go get a beer after all. Benjamin shifted in his seat, checking to make sure his passport was where he’d put it, but before he could stand, Eric continued. “He said there was something he wanted to tell me, but -”
 “Drop it, Eric.” He watched as you focused on the game, one leg bouncing up and down quickly. “We’re fine, you know how he gets at games, just…” You finally turned to look at your brother, gaze stopping on his face for a few seconds before they moved to Benjamin, where they lingered. “Can we talk about something else, please?” That’s it, I’m going to get something else to eat. 
 “I’m still hungry,” Benjamin announced, breaking the silence. “Anything you recommend? I’ve already had a Chicago dog, so -”
 “Nachos.” Eric turned to him, grinning. “Can’t go wrong with nachos, and no matter how not hungry she is, she’ll help you eat them.” 
 “It’s true.” You sounded excited again. “I’ll eat some of your nachos, but only if -” He stood, holding  a hand up to stop you. 
 “I’ll be right back. We passed the stand on the… left, yeah?” Both you and Eric nodded, and Benjamin headed out in the opposite direction from Noah. Maybe she’ll talk to Eric. I wonder what… but it’s not my business. 
 The line for nachos moved quickly, Benjamin ordering chicken instead of beef and laughing out loud at the ridiculous plastic helmet that they were served in. He ordered a beer at the same time and after grabbing napkins and a few individually wrapped forks from a nearby condiment stand, walked back to his seat. Noah was back, but Eric was gone - and you didn’t look too happy. What happened? This is supposed to be... 
 “I didn’t know whether to get chicken or beef, so -” Benjamin sat back down, settling his beer into the cup holder in front of him. “I’ve got forks and …” But he trailed off at the look on your face; a mixture of anxiety and sadness. What did I miss?  He blinked, staring at you, but as if a switch had been flipped, the look in your eyes was replaced with one of cheerfulness, one of your hands reaching out for the fork he offered. 
 “Perfect.” You laughed, but it was forced, and he could tell - and he knew that you could tell that he heard it. “But you’ve gotta eat them with your hands, it’s the only way.” You took a deep breath, and Benjamin gave you a nod. Let it go for now. If she wants to talk about it, she will. 
 “Good thing I brought napkins, then.” 
 --- 
 After the game ended, the four of you walked the short distance back to the Metra station, but the mood was much different than it had been arriving. Eric had returned to his seat near the end of the 6th, offering no explanation for where he’d been for nearly 30 minutes, and he’d said barely ten words to Noah after sitting back down. What is going on? Once you’d settled into seats on the train, Benjamin and Eric sitting in front of you and Noah, all four of you were quiet. I’ll be glad to be back in the room. The walk back from the train station was quiet too, you and Noah walking ahead of Eric and Benjamin, though you didn’t hold hands; there was noticeable space between you.
 Riding the elevator up, Benjamin avoided looking you and Noah, still trying to figure out what had changed in such a short time. Whatever it is, is bad. “Benjamin.” You’d all stepped out into the hallway, taking a few steps toward your rooms. “Hope you had a good time.” Noah’s voice was slightly smug as he spoke next. “It’ll be a better game than the one you see tomorrow, that’s for sure. The Sox are going to get their asses handed to them.” He heard you groan quietly, but Noah ignored it. “I probably won’t see you again before you head back, so have a good flight and all that.” What? “Yeah, I’m not going to the game tomorrow with you.” He shrugged, wrinkling his nose. “I’ve never stepped foot into that ballpark, and won’t.” What? 
 “But I thought -” Noah shook his head. “We’ve got four tickets, I assumed -”
 “I’m bringing Michelle. I called her earlier, she’s gonna come in for the game.” Eric finally spoke, his tone clipped. “Since you’re too good for the South Side, apparently.” Noah’s not going? So it’s going to be… Despite his confusion at the situation, Benjamin felt slightly excited at the thought of seeing another game with you - and no Noah. Not because I want anything out of it, but because… “Come on, Benjamin. Let’s let them get to it, since he’s leaving early tomorrow.” Eric turned away and Benjamin stared at you and Noah, silently. I don’t even know…
 “Goodnight, I guess?” He grimaced. “I’ll -”
 “Night, Benjamin.” You offered him a small smile, closing your eyes and swallowing. “See you tomorrow.” With nothing else to be said, Benjamin spun away from you and followed Eric into the room, using his key card to open it. When he entered, he found Eric pacing, one hand gripping the back of his neck. 
 “Eric, what -”
 “They’re not even dating Benjamin.” Oh, no. He froze, waiting. “That’s the issue. She told me that he wasn’t going tomorrow, and I asked what kind of a guy would just leave his girlfriend to go out with another man after he was so jealous that she was talking to you so much, and she…” He scoffed. “She told me that they aren’t even a couple, that they just haven’t talked about what they are, and there wasn’t enough time tonight to ask her why she’s alright with that.”
 “He said the same thing to me, Eric.” Benjamin sat down on his bed, beginning to unlace his boots. “When we went out? He was talking to the people we were drinking with, and he referred to her as his friend, not his girlfriend, and so I asked what that meant, because it surprised me.”
 “Of course you did.” Eric sat too, finally stopping his pacing. “Of course, but I’m surprised he didn’t tell you they were, just to get you to back off.” Back off? What do you mean? “I knew he didn’t like labels, but I thought that with her it would be different because we’ve all known each other for so long.” Eric lowered his head. “That’s my sister, and he’s treating it like…” Be very careful. 
 “Your sister’s perfectly capable of telling him she’s unhappy.” The other man looked up. “I haven’t spoken to her about it, but we’ve talked about… about them a lot, Eric.” But she didn’t tell me either. Benjamin swallowed. “I know you’re close, but there’s not much you can do if she won’t… or if she doesn’t ...they…” I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. “D’you know I told her that she should go out with him in the first place?” Benjamin waited, and Eric nodded. “I was still with Julia, and she sounded so nervous about talking to you about it, and I just wanted someone to have a good relationship, even if I couldn’t have one with my wife.” 
 “Yeah?” Eric stood again, pointing at the door. “That’s not a good relationship, Benjamin. It’s not even a relationship and my sister deserves better.” Maybe she’s alright with it, maybe she doesn’t need a label on it. Not everyone does. 
 “They’ve been going out since what, April?” Eric thought and then nodded. “It’s still early, only been a couple of months, and he told me that they weren’t even seeing each other exclusively for the first -” Eric swore and Benjamin cringed. Oops. “...so, so it’s been a little under three months, and…” Why are you trying to justify this? “He’s your friend, Eric, he wouldn’t…” 
 “You’re my friend too, Benjamin, and you wouldn’t  treat her like you’re in fucking high school and aftaid of commitment.” Startled, Benjamin didn’t speak, staring at the other man. No, I wouldn’t. “That’s not an excuse, and it’s not… shit Benjamin, what do I say?” 
 “Nothing. You say nothing, because you’re leaving again in a week, and this is is her life, and she’s the only one that can… Eric, if she wanted you or me to know? If he wanted you to know? They would have said something earlier.” Eric paused, turning and narrowing his eyes at Benjamin. I think it’s bullshit too, Eric. 
 “She told me now, though. So that has to…” He moved closer, curious look on his face. “Benjamin.” I’m not going to like this. “Benjamin, is there something going on between you and my sister?” 
 “Absolutely not.” He felt his heart pounding. “We talk a lot and I like her, but she’s seeing Noah, and I don’t want a rebound.” He shook his head. “We live on different continents, Eric. How would that even…” Is that what’s keeping me from admitting this to anyone? Is… am I… 
 “She looks at you.” Eric sat back down. “She jokes with you, Benjamin. She… I saw her grab your hand earlier, saw the way she reacted to me saying that there were other women looking at you tonight.” Benjamin’s mind wandered to the way that you’d seemed relieved when he’d told you that he wasn’t interested in a rebound, that he didn’t care that he’d lost the woman from the bar’s number, the feeling of you relaxing next to him and falling asleep after pretending to be asleep to get your non-boyfriend to leave. It doesn’t mean anything. We’re friends. 
 “There’s nothing going on, Eric. There can’t be.” There are things she doesn’t know. Things she needs to know. “Your sister and I, it…” Admitting it makes it real. She… “There’s no time to…” Eric let out a deep breath, laying back on his bed. I wish there was. 
 “Whatever you say, Benjamin.” Without another word, Eric got back up, changing and getting ready for bed. By the time Benjamin was done and under the covers in his own bed, his heart rate had returned to normal, though his thoughts were still on you. It doesn’t matter what I want. But even though it had been hours, he could still feel the warmth of your palm, your phantom fingers squeezing his tightly as he curled them beneath the blanket. 
--- 
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hypnoticwinter · 4 years
Text
Down the Rabbit Hole part 10
The door opens and the bell rings and Peter and I both look up; the lady I’d ran into earlier on my first day in Gumption walks in and nods to Peter. Through the course of the story we’d finished breakfast and then I’d walked with Peter down to the 7-11 and he’d clocked in and started his shift while I sat on a stack of beer cases and listened, turning the voice recorder to its highest sensitivity to capture everything he was saying. I could always go back and take a transcript later if I had to, if the audio was too loud or too distorted.
Her eyes stray over me but whatever she thinks she doesn’t betray anything with her expression. I’ve reached out automatically and covered the voice recorder with my hand as soon as I heard the door open; it was an automatic action, quick as a whip, no conscious thought required, and I slide my thumb down its ridged side, click it off.
“Hey, Michelle,” Peter says.
“Hey, Peter,” she says.
He glances at his watch and whistles. “I didn’t realize it was four already.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” she says, a slight layer of sarcasm flavoring her words. I can feel my hackles rising but I ease myself down. Peter’s eyes flick over to me.
“Well,” he says, and I feel my mouth drop open.
“No way. You can’t be serious.”
“What?”
“You aren’t going to finish the story?”
Peter grins at me. “I have to go get ready,” he says in a soft voice. “I’ll finish telling you later.”
“Oh my god.”
“What?” he repeats.
“What the hell happens to Makado?”
“She…” he starts, and then stops. I can see a flicker of pain cross his face like the dappled back of a fish beneath a sunstruck river. My heart falls within my chest and I realize that I’m becoming far too invested to be objective, I need to take a step back. “She made it out fine,” he tells me. I don’t believe him.
Despite all of my efforts to cajole him he won’t tell me any more. He assures me that we’ll have enough time tonight, that it’s going to be a lot of sitting around and waiting while I film far-off dots moving around under the cover of darkness and that he’ll tell me then. It smells like a cop-out to me, like he just doesn’t want to get into what happened to Makado.
It’s unbelievable enough already, though, isn’t it? Amalgams and copepods and all of that stuff. I hear it and I think, oh, this is the plot to a movie. This isn’t real, it can’t be. Even though I’m only a few miles from it, even though I’m going to be going there tonight, it doesn’t feel like the Pit is a place that actually exists. It feels like somebody is pulling my leg.
Or it would, if it weren’t for the look on Peter’s face when he talks about Makado. That at least is real. Whether everything else around it is fake, I guess there’s a little kernel of doubt still sprouting in my head somewhere, the tiny eternal skeptic inside of me that isn’t willing to believe anything it can’t touch or feel or see itself.
We walk out of the 7-11 together and look at each other. Peter nods. “Same place as where you followed before. You know how to get there?”
I nod as well. “Line up the two rocks and the cactus with the setting sun and walk straight until I hit the three boulders in the dip of the hill.”
“Good memory. If you mess up you’ll be able to see us probably anyway, I’ll have my flashlight.”
“How many people are coming?”
“Besides you there’s three others, one guy from the cult for his initiation and two others who…well, you know.”
“Yeah. Was that what Erica was talking to you about the other day?”
“When she pulled up at midnight or whenever? Yeah, she was just telling me who to look out for. Because those guys want to be able to get back out again I have to give them different instructions, that kind of thing.”
I shudder in spite of myself. “Well, see you tonight.”
“See you,” he says. He turns and walks quickly away and then past the corner of the building and I am alone. I stand there for a moment and then lean up against the side of the building. The sun is hot but not terribly so and here in the shade it’s really quite a nice afternoon.
A car pulls up and turns into one of the pumps. It’s the second customer I’ve seen all day. The guy looks over at me but it isn’t anyone I know or have seen before, and after a moment he puts his card in and fills up the tank, then drives off.
I look round and, after a moment, let myself slide down the faux-brick façade of the 7-11 and stretch my legs out in front of me. My knee cracks like a gunshot as I do and I wince. I take my phone out of my pocket and dial a number and listen as the harsh buzzing tone drills one, two, three, four, five times into my ear, and then there’s a click and the answering machine picks up.
“Hi, you’ve reached Mark Dzilenski. I’m not able to take your call right now but if you leave me your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks, bye.”
“Hi, dad,” I say, and I feel a wave of emotion pressing at me that I refuse to confront. I swallow. “I’m sorry our call got disconnected the other night, I think there’s something wrong with my phone. It was good hearing your voice, I’m glad you and mom are doing okay.”
I lick my lips. Alright, Roan, you’ve been very glib so far. Spit it out.
“I, uh,” I start. Come on. “I got some news the other day that I wanted to tell you, I…”
“If you are satisfied with your call, you can hang up, or press 1 for delivery options. To re-record –“
I hang up the call, and then I stand up. I rummage in my bag for a cigarette and light it, and then walk slowly back to the hotel, taking my time. I’m meeting Peter at one in the morning but my nerves are already balling around themselves in a panic. I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“So what?” I ask out loud. I look over and see my distorted reflection looking back at me in the thick glass window of a closed barbershop. I look tired. “So what?” I mutter again. I look at the me in the window a little longer but I don’t like the way she looks at me so I toss my cigarette on the ground and crush it out and hurry a little more. It feels like there is a cloud looming behind me but it’s just in the sky, promising rain.
When I get back to the hotel room I unfold my laptop, dump the audio files from the voice recorder back onto it, and then I connect to the extremely rickety wi-fi network the motel offers and I look up what exactly the penalty is for trespassing on federal property. It’s not that bad, actually; a misdemeanor in all cases, at least under federal law. I don’t know if the site around the Pit is solely administered federally or if state law would also apply, though. Or would it count as trespassing on a military base? Apparently that can be a felony, if it’s important enough or if you’re being malicious about it. I do more googling around but the information I turn up is cryptic and limited. I wonder, not for the first time, if I’m putting myself on some kind of list doing this sort of research, then shake my head. Whatever.
The evening passes slowly and my nervousness doesn’t fade no matter how many cigarettes I smoke, leaned over on the wiry metal bannister, staring off into the flat, unexciting horizon. I watch television just to pass time, let Baggage and The Price is Right and Family Feud wash over me like an ocean, like waves, like I’m drowning. Am I drowning? If I were sane I think I’d feel like I were drowning.
When the time comes I put some pants on, long ones this time, shrug into my jacket, make sure I have my voice recorder and my camcorder and my slim little folding knife, more of a letter opener than anything else. I laugh at myself when I tuck it into my pocket but I still do it.
“Alright Roan,” I say to myself, staring in the mirror, sounding braver than I really feel, tucking my hair back in a ponytail. “Let’s go commit a felony.”
 * * *
 Peter raises his hand in greeting as I crest the hill and I wave back at him, click the light on my phone off and move down, join the little circle. He’d said there would be three others; two are here so far. One is a small Asian girl, so skinny it looks like she’d burst into flame if she crossed her legs too fast, and the other is a tall, heavy guy, looking like he’s in his late forties, balding hard. He has bags under his eyes and he keeps reflexively running his hands together. “Hi Lily,” Peter says to me and I blink and almost look behind myself to see if there’s someone back there, but he winks at me and I realize I’m supposed to be Lily. I wonder if there’s anything else important he’s left out.
“Hey,” I say. The Asian girl glances at me and then looks away again. Her eyes are very dark and it looks as though she’s chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek, sucking it inwards and holding it between her teeth and then letting it go again.
“This is Bao and Rey,” he tells me, indicating each of them. I nod at them.
“Hey,” I say again. “You guys, uh…excited?”
Peter shakes his head minutely and I feel faintly embarrassed, like I’ve said something I clearly shouldn’t have without realizing the taboo.
To their credit, they definitely do not look excited; nervous is more accurate. Perhaps haunted would be appropriate as well. Rey keeps glancing out into the darkness as though he can see something moving around out there; I can see his eyes focus on something and track it for a while before slipping off like a thrown egg slipping slowly down a window. I look out into the darkness as well but even though my eyes aren’t as adapted now thanks to Peter’s big utility flashlight throwing enough light to make me squint, it is very clear that there is nothing out there, nothing large enough that he’d be able to see it and track it like that.
I want to talk to him, I want to take out my recorder, I want to pry my way into his head, but I restrain myself. This is clearly not the time. The camcorder is still in my jacket pocket, the bulky night-vision attachment screwed onto its snouty muzzle already, fully charged and ready to go, but clearly I am supposed to be pretending to be one of these people. While we lapse into another uneasy silence and Peter checks his watch, I consider my new existence as Lily.
These two people are clearly so far gone that they barely recognize me as a person, let alone the deeper distinction between Roan and Lily. The way Rey keeps seeing ghosts and watching them like he’s ready to bolt or to fight, the way Bao keeps jumping at sounds none of the rest of us can hear, clearly they’re the two who are – what even is the right word? Afflicted? Who are, at least in Peter’s estimation, beyond retrieval?
I look at Bao. She’s young, maybe about my age, maybe a little younger. Twenty-two or twenty-three? Very possibly. Bao…the name sounds more Chinese than Japanese or Korean but I don’t know enough about Eastern culture to positively identify her, plus obviously there are more Asian countries than just China, Japan, and Korea. And if I’m supposed to be one of these people then should I care? Should I be getting into character?
I look again at Peter and feel a faint spark of anger at the fact that he didn’t let me know, didn’t warn me, but then I realize he didn’t really have a way to – he doesn’t have my number, and maybe this was something that resolved itself later in the afternoon after we’d parted, this need for secrecy.
I’ll draw the line at aping those nervous tics. Just watching these two is making me sad, giving me a feeling like someone’s taking hold of my heart and squeezing. It feels cruel, knowing I can do nothing.
Clearly the reason I’m Lily is because the third person, the guy from the cult, will know I’m coming, or at least will recognize my name. I think back and wonder if anybody had had a chance to take a photo of me while I was out walking around the town, but I’d have given people so many opportunities to take one without me noticing that it’s pointless to dwell on.
Surely if there was some sort of danger, if the cult knew for sure I would be here and they were perhaps willing to prevent me from coming somehow, Peter would have contacted me. He knows the motel I’m at, he might not know the room but if Erica Walken could get the phone number to it, surely Peter could have as well…right?
I toss my head, work my jaw sideways. It feels like it wants to crack but it doesn’t; I can feel the tension in the bulgy little knot of muscles down the side of my cheek. It doesn’t matter. I’m here, and I’m going in with them, cult or no cult.
There’s a crunching of feet on the dry hard earth behind us and Rey and I both turn to watch the third guy, tall and dark, making his way down the hill to us. He’s young, with a trimmed beard, and close-cropped hair. His eyes are very small; they linger on me for a moment and then flick to Rey and Bao.
“Alright,” Peter says, “everybody’s here. We’re going to be going under the fence through a hidden tunnel. It’s going to be tight so you guys are going to have to drop to your stomachs and crawl. It was going to be a waste-drainage pipe but they didn’t give the contractors they hired to do it the right plans and so it turned out that they were digging right on top of one of the power lines for the electric fence. They just left the pipe in there and put a fake rock over the entrance.”
I almost laugh when I hear that. It’s too easy. There must be a catch, mustn’t there?
“The pipe is going to let you out on the side of the patrol road inside the fence,” Peter says, looking between us. He weights his words carefully. “There should not be a patrol moving at the time that we go through,” he says, “but on the off chance that there is, whoever is in front needs to just freeze and wait, you understand?”
He looks around at us until we each nod. It takes Bao the longest but she does acknowledge, at least, that he’s speaking. “You,” he says, pointing to the guy from the cult, “your name is Marcus, right?”
“That’s right,” he says. He has a slow, deep, purposeful voice.
“You’re going to be in front. I don’t normally come in but I will be this time, I have some business to take care of inside. Me and Lily here,” he says, pointing to me, “will be in the rear. You two will be in the middle,” he says, and Rey and Bao nod, a little quicker this time.
“Once we’re inside, you’re going to be going in through a disused emergency exit that they haven’t sealed up because the Pit uses it to breathe. I’m not going to lie to you, it won’t be pleasant. It’s going to be tight, hot, smell horrendous, and it’ll be pitch-black, but it’s a one-way trip without any side branches, so just push through it and you will get through and out into the old Bronchial section. It’s been a long time since I’ve been there but all of my information says that any damage is fairly minimal and you should still be able to get through. Once you’re in, you’re on your own. If you want to come back out, take the same drainage pipe that we go in through and be careful not to cross the road right in front of a patrol. This area that we’re in, there aren’t any cameras, there’s no other detection, so as long as you look out for patrols, you’re fine. If you get caught, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. If you don’t tell them anything, the worst they can do is felony trespassing and a $500 fine. It isn’t great but it also isn’t the worst thing in the world. Understood so far?”
We all nod. My heart is beating quickly; I can hear it in my ears, a little thump reminding me that I’m really doing this, I’m really going to do it.
“Great,” Peter says. “Once you’re inside, the deeper you go the less likely it is that someone will catch you. Flip side is, the deeper you go, the more likely it is something will catch you. Anything with a sign that says ‘LVC’ or ‘Main Gullet,’ don’t go that way, you will get caught. I don’t know what you want to do down there or how long you want to do it for, doesn’t matter to me, but try not to get caught. And one more thing,” he says, looking very seriously at all of us. “Do not, under any circumstances, try to go in or out any other way than the one we’re going to take. That means do not go down to the main orifice. That is the most watched area in the entire facility and it is completely open. I know that this way isn’t great but it’s safe, easy, and it is unobserved. Everybody good?”
Once again we all nod, but I wonder whether or not Rey and Bao have really absorbed the information. Rey keeps watching things moving around in the shadows and Bao’s eyes are unfocused and glassy, and her head rocks lightly to the beat of something none of the rest of us can hear.
Peter gives instructions on how to get to the entrance, which I can now identify as being the same way as he and Makado got out during the disaster, the same breathing orifice that they’d pushed their way through four years ago.
Something about the…the enormity of it, of the thing beneath us and ahead of us and surrounding us, is getting to me. I can feel my skin prickling and a flash of heat passes over me suddenly and I nearly gasp but I contain myself. It wouldn’t do to have a panic attack right now, I tell myself, and I slowly, gradually, get myself back under control. I can feel my hands shaking at my sides and I shove them deep into my pockets. I want a cigarette.
There is finally, it seems, nothing left to talk about, no more instructions or warnings Peter can give us. He nods to himself, going over some kind of mental checklist, and then shrugs. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”
 * * *
 Fifteen minutes later I’m already laughing at myself for getting so worked up over something so banal. Yeah, the other day when I followed Peter it had seemed like very serious business but here, actually making the trip myself, I can’t help but feel like it’s very small potatoes. It’s just a fence, I say to myself as we walk up to it, and then that turns into it’s just a waste drainage pipe, one that I have to shimmy through on my belly, grimacing as dust and grime gets on my nice coat, but it can’t be helped.
Peter’s behind me and Bao is ahead of me; Peter is staring at my ass, I’m sure, but then I realize that it’s pitch black in here so maybe I can give my ego a break and not assume it’s all about me. I keep having to prop myself up on my hands and knees to readjust the camcorder and make sure I’m not smashing it to bits on the hard floor of the pipe, but eventually we make it through and then we’re standing on an identical bit of hard, scrubby earth, except now we’re on the other side of the fence. As I watch, Bao, Rey, and Marcus all take off along the path, crossing it quickly and dropping down into the ditch below, and then they are just dark silhouettes making their way beneath the sharp half-moon. I get out my camcorder and flip it on and start filming them; the night-vision is really not that effective but it’s way better than just filming in the dark.
Peter clambers to his feet next to me and dusts himself off. “Well,” he says after a moment, “there they go.”
“They really don’t get caught?”
“Not usually. The ones who’re there to, you know, die to it, they go as deep as they can as quick as they can, far as I understand it, and the people with the cult tend to stay in the upper areas. There’s not very many personnel in the Pit right now so the odds of running into somebody is slim.”
I point ahead of us. “Can we go sit on that ridge? I want to get some shots of the Pit itself.”
“Sure. If a patrol comes we’ll have to duck down but it should be alright.”
We make our way across the road and down onto the ridge. I find a little flat section for us to sit on and then I pick out the three dark blobs making their way carefully up the hill. I whistle softly. “That’s the easiest way up there?”
“It is,” he says. “It doesn’t look like it but there’s a clear path, you just have to be careful of your footing.”
The figure in front stops for a moment. I can’t tell from this distance but I think it might be Bao. She stops and turns and looks across the great downward sloping crater of the Pit, and I pan the camcorder around and take a shot of it as well. I frown at the image. “That isn’t flesh down there, is it?”
“No,” Peter says. “They filled it all in with concrete. Do you see that little dark spot over there?”
I look where he’s pointing. “Yes.”
“That’s the orifice. They don’t keep it dilated as wide as they did during the park days, and the elevator is way smaller, too. There’s a little command center down in the gullet but it’s like, maybe a quarter of the size of the LVC. They’re all about minimizing impact now.”
Bao seems to be rocking unsteadily back and forth there on the trail and I turn the camera to record her. “So what happened to Makado?” I ask.
“I told you, she got out fine.”
“You know I don’t believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter if you believe it, it’s the truth.”
“Alright, can you introduce me to her, then? I’d like to meet her, or at least have a phone call.”
Peter laughs. “I really don’t think you’d want that.”
“Why not?”
He makes a little grunting noise. “I think you’d find that she –“
“Holy shit!” I blurt. Peter jumps next to me, looks around wildly.
“What is it?”
I’ve already gotten to my feet. “Bao just fucking ran back down the trail and someone else lost their balance and fell off,” I tell him, pointing at the dark object bouncing down the cliff face towards the white concrete below. Whoever it is they’re flopping like a rag doll, and I wince with each impact. “Jesus Christ,” I say, pointlessly. Next to me, Peter curses.
“Stay here,” he tells me before hustling off into the darkness. It looks as though he’s heading for Bao; I can barely see her but it looks as though she’s collapsed against a large boulder maybe a hundred yards away at the base of the hill, her shoulders shaking.
Well, Bao’s fine. I guess. She must have lost her nerve. I turn around, peer through the screen of the camcorder. Whoever she pushed, either Marcus or Rey, he’s reached the bottom by now and slumped into a huddled pile at the bottom of the crater. I can see one limb extended out limply like an exclamation point. I look back at Bao; Peter’s reached her and is hunched down next to her, trying to get her to move. She’s hugging her legs to her chest and I can see her shaking her head frantically. Did she do it on purpose? I didn’t see the whole thing but it looked like she just panicked.
When I turn back to Rey I can see him moving, trying to get up. “Oh fuck,” I say. He pushes himself up on his hands and then his arm gives out and he falls and lays there. I can just barely see, through the camcorder, his chest rising and falling. “Goddam it,” I say to myself, and then I fold up the camcorder and stuff it back into my jacket pocket, and then I get up and start to carefully pick my way down the heavy rocky incline of the crater lip.
 * * *
 I’m scared. I’m not ashamed to admit it, I’m terrified. I’m scared that someone is going to see me, is going to see whoever it is at the bottom, Rey or Marcus, and roll up with the black helicopters and take me wherever the Men in Black take you. It’s an insane, worthless fear but I still feel it. About half of me wants to bolt and run, scurry my way back into that drainage pipe and out and never look back, but I look at the lump ahead of me, hardly even seeming to be a person, no matter how beat up, and I see him again trying to rise and again falling and then I’m down there with him, my ankle aching from where I stepped wrong and very slightly rolled it, and I get down on my knees next to him. “Hey,” I say, “I’m here, it’s okay.”
He’s muttering in anguished Spanish to himself and I have to repeat myself a few times before he cracks his eyes open, his face dirty, blood from a cut above his eyebrow seeping down and stinging at his eye. He says something to me in Spanish and I trot out the little I know. “No entiendo,” I say, “Uh. Habla ingles?”
“Yeah,” he coughs. “You’re – Lily?”
“My name is Roan actually. Are you okay? Can you stand?”
“Rowan?”
“Roan. Like the horse. My parents were hippies.”
He looks at me like I’m speaking Greek and I might as well be. I put my hand out. “Can you stand?” I ask again, and he takes it. I help him pull himself up but his leg buckles beneath him and he lets out a cry of pain that echoes in the deserted Pit, bouncing off the soft white concrete expanse.
“I think I broke it,” he says. “Oh god.”
He’s staring around again, wilder than before. I look around in spite of myself but as I knew there would be there’s nothing there. I reach into my pocket and click the voice recorder on.
“What do you see?” I ask him.
“You don’t see them?”
“No, I can’t,” I shake my head. “What are they?”
That gets his attention and he tears his eyes from whatever vision he can see cavorting around us. He looks at me closely. “You don’t…you don’t see them?”
“No.”
“Oh,” he says, sounding disappointed. He tries to rise again but I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Wait,” I tell him. “Your leg must be broken, we can’t –“
“I’m so close,” he says. His eyes are wild now, and fixed on me. Before I can take a step back he’s thrown his weight towards me awkwardly and grabbed my arm. His hands are sweaty. “You have to help me.”
“Put your arm around me,” I tell him, crouching down. He’s heavy enough that I don’t know whether I’ll really be able to help much, but if I get on the same side as his hurt leg I can at least make sure he doesn’t have to put weight on it. The hard part will be getting up again –
Rey cries out again and I wince. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “This is going to be rough but we have to get you up.”
“No,” he says, leaning on me. His face is pale now, his mouth tight and drawn with the effort.
“No?” I ask. “Come on, we need to leave like right now –“
“No,” he repeats, one shaking finger extended out ahead of us. He’s pointing to the tall gantry of the elevator down into the Pit. “We have to go there,” he says. “I have to –“
“Absolutely not,” I tell him. “We have to go –“
But he is starting forward towards the gantry and I curse and walk with him, because if I don’t he’ll fall, he’ll cry out again, he’ll fucking crawl on his hands and knees over to the goddam gantry, I can see it in his eyes, I know he will without even wondering how I know, and even though the lurching pace we set is clearly causing him pain, he urges me forward without any regard for his leg, hanging uselessly at his side, the foot jostling along the concrete every now and then and making him groan, a low deep animal noise that makes me feel as though I’m going to be sick.
We make it about halfway before a deep, rumbling alarm starts somewhere and ratchets up to a screech and all the lights click on and turn the night to day. All the strength seems to leave my body; I almost collapse. “Oh fuck,” I say.
“Come on,” he says. I glare at him; I’m sweating, the tight grip he has around my shoulders is starting to hurt, and he isn’t exactly slim. It’s taking all of my effort to keep him upright and walking and I am so close to just dropping him. I give him a dirty look and try to summon up my willpower, every single ounce of meanness and cruelty in my body and just twist out of his grasp and let him fall, but I can’t do it.
“Goddam it, Rey,” I tell him. “It’s a fucking elevator, they won’t let you on, there aren’t going to be stairs you can go down.”
“Come on,” he says again. The closer we get to the orifice the deader his voice gets. He keeps looking over his shoulder but there isn’t anything there, at least not yet; a pair of headlights are cresting the ridge and I can see people piling out of what looks like a Humvee but they aren’t anywhere close to us yet.
I reflect, briefly, on how useless this venture is; we probably could have gotten away if Rey hadn’t insisted on coming down here to peer down an empty elevator shaft. And if I hadn’t had such a damn big heart I could have gotten away, at least. Felony trespassing; well, I have the money for the fine, at least, but that’s got to be at least a year in federal prison, nothing to sneeze at. Maybe they have special accommodations for sick people? At the very least once I tell all of the prison lesbians what’s wrong with me they’ll –
“YOU TWO DOWN ON THE EXCLUSION PLATE!” a tremendous voice yells down at us through a megaphone. I nearly jump out of my skin but somehow manage to keep ahold of Rey. “STOP WHERE YOU ARE OR WE WILL SHOOT!”
I stop but Rey keeps going. “Rey, stop,” I tell him, but he doesn’t pay any attention to me. We’ve gotten far enough now that the end is in sight, the gantry is maybe twenty or thirty feet ahead of us and the yawning hole in the concrete is visible, but I can’t see inside it, not from this angle. “Rey!” I yell, but he pushes me back and I stumble to my knees. Rey breaks into a shambling run, or tries to anyway, but his leg simply is too hurt for him to put any weight on it. He nearly falls but he catches himself and bounces back up.
The first gunshot is unbelievably loud, even though it seems to come from a mile away. I hear it crack and I scream and fall down to my knees, my shoulders cringing together without any conscious effort on my part. I can see a spray of concrete splinters rising at Rey’s feet like shrapnel, and I realize the shot missed. He’s nearly there. I don’t know what he wants to achieve. I throw my jacket off and wrestle with the pocket, pull out the camcorder as quickly as I can force my shaking hands to operate, and snap it open so quickly I nearly break it. I start filming just in time to see the third, fourth, and fifth bullets bury themselves in him, two in his shoulder and one in his thigh. I cry out again but Rey is utterly silent. He’s down on his hands and knees but he tries to rise, and then another bullet catches him, this time in the back of the head, and he is down for good, and I realize that I’m crying, even while I’m trying very hard to keep the camcorder steady to get the shot of Rey’s supine body, one hand extending forward, reaching for the edge of the orifice, just ten feet away from him, a shocking red spray of arterial blood staining the concrete ahead of him like a punctuation.
Then two pairs of hands catch me under the shoulders and haul me to my feet and someone takes away my camcorder and they shove my head into a hood and then I can’t see. They force my hands together behind my back and handcuff me and I want to say something witty, quip something vaguely salacious like ‘easy boys, get to know me first before you get out the handcuffs’ but I can’t make my voice work the way it ought to and I’m still crying and shaking and I realize as they half carry half drag me to some kind of vehicle and fold me into it that I’ve wet myself, and any sort of bravery I might have been able to muster disintegrates into a painful, sharp-edged mass of shame and fear and embarrassment and a feeling not unlike I’m falling, like what I thought was just a rabbit hole has turned into a bottomless pit.
Continue with Part 11
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Of Princess Bride Past
PART THIRTY-TWO OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES
Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)
Warnings: plentiful pop culture references
Word Count: 5.1K
Summary: Ella plays piano for the first time in a long while.
Rushing up the stairs to the apartment, Ella almost tripped more than once. The main floor of Truncheon was empty, books shut and the sign on the front door turned to Closed. Rain showered down hard, and all manner of umbrella patterns could be seen on the sidewalk outside. Her own umbrella, collapsed and dripping, sat next to the front door. She’d practically thrown it down in her hurry. Biting down on her cheek, she was nearly out of breath by the time she made it through the apartment door. Everyone was mingling in the living room, nursing beers and waiting for the last member of the group to arrive. They looked up at the sound of her huffy entrance and offered greetings.
She barely gave anyone a glance as she hung up her raincoat and began undoing her french braid on her walk to the bedroom. “Sorry, sorry. Just give me five minutes and I won’t look like a bank teller anymore.”
Seven o’clock had come and gone, and she had still been stuck in the lecture hall, while her advisor gave her notes on the presentation in art history. All in all, her advisor had been impressed. But she was not one for brevity, and Ella had taken several anxious peeks at her watch during the review. It was the last day of class before spring break, and Ella was eager for the week off. She’d been so busy with midterms, she hadn’t been able to make it to any of Leo’s recent gigs. But he was due on stage at Keeley’s between eight and eight-thirty. And there was no way she was going to the show dressed in her blazer and pencil skirt, gray and stiff. She’d worn it only because one of the oldest men on the entire faculty had been sitting in on her presentation, and Ella had heard about his penchant for professionalism.
Ella thought she heard Chris yell some crack at her outfit after her, but she had already slammed the bedroom door. She stripped out of her clothes, throwing them in the hamper with disdain. She hoped it would be some time before she would have to wear anything of the sort again. Opening up a dresser drawer, she ran her eyes over prospective outfits for the night.
Breathing a frustrated sigh, she pulled a grayish-purple babydoll dress over her head and went to sit down on the bed to tug on her fishnets. After having appraised herself in the mirror above the dresser, she decided her makeup was decent enough and touch-ups would be unnecessary. She was wearing far less than normal, anyway. She had a feeling the ancient history professor who sat in wouldn’t exactly smile upon thick eyeliner or dark lipstick. The need to change her look simply to please the man made her skin crawl, but she could see no other way out. He had once ordered a graduate student out from behind the podium because his shirt had a stain.
The next time she was in class, though, she would be back in her grungy attire. Just putting on the fishnets made her feel more comfortable than she had been all day. She reached under the bed, grabbed her Doc Martens, and laced them up faster than she previously thought was humanly possible.
She was about to go back out into the living room, prepared to return to the flooded streets at a moment’s notice. But then she passed the mirror again and, on second thought, decided she simply couldn’t stand not doing something interesting with her face. She swiped on some dark wine-colored lipstick and gave herself a tiny cateye with a trained, precise hand. Having done winged liner on and off since high school, she found practice had made her skilled enough to get it right on the first try about half the time. It was perhaps her greatest accomplishment in life.
Grabbing her secondhand leather jacket, she trudged back out into the living room. She ran her fingers through her hair a few more times, untangling the remnants of her braid and smoothing down the dark blonde waves.
“We wouldn’t have been late even if we left thirty minutes from now,” Matthew said, standing up with Mabel by his side.
“Well, on time is late, and early is on time,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.
Chris rolled his eyes as he also rose, from his armchair, and made his way to the coat rack. “Were you the hall monitor or something in high school?”
Jess snorted a laugh, his nose still buried in a Hunter Thompson book where he sat on the couch. “Far from it.”
“The hell’s that supposed to mean, Mariano?” she asked, furrowing her brows.
Smirking, Jess shut his book and tossed it on the coffee table. He went to grab his black jacket, while everyone mingled by the door, ready to brave the weather on the short walk to Keeley’s. “You threatened to stab me the first time you met me.”
“With a butterknife,” Ella countered defensively.
The rest of the group snickered, exiting the apartment and filing down the stairs.
“Ah, young love,” Chris teased. His pale cheeks were rosy, his blue eyes wide with excitement. Despite how much of a pain in the ass he could be, Ella felt her heart warmed to see how proud he was of his boyfriend.
“I thought he was trying to rob the diner,” Ella continued, grabbing her umbrella again before they went out onto the grimy, damp streets.
The rain had lessened slightly, to a chilly drizzle, but was still wet against her face. Jess took the umbrella from her, then interlaced their fingers with his free hand. She glanced up at him in thanks, and he winked in response. She could feel the scar from where the knife had sliced him the night they planned for their first date.
“Quite the menace, was he?” Matthew asked over his shoulder. Mabel had her arm linked with his, following along with the conversation. They had known her for a few weeks, but Ella suspected she hadn’t quite become comfortable. She was more timid than Ella expected for an actress, but she was truly sweet. Wore her heart on her sleeve, a quality Ella also recognized in Matthew.
“Oh yeah. Dennis was his middle name,” Ella smiled nostalgically. “Think if Sid Vicious and Elvis had a baby. Whose big moves are stealing gnomes and doing close-up magic.”
Chris laughed out loud, nudging Jess in the ribs. Jess blushed, glaring at Ella.
“Aw, were you a little Criss Angel wannabe?” Chris crooned, mocking.
Jess rolled his eyes. “I was not. It seemed to charm Eleanor just fine, anyhow.”
“I was young and misguided,” she said wistfully.
“And you were tripping over your own feet at least once a week,” Jess chimed in. “Though, not much has changed on that front.”
Ella scoffed. “You worked at Walmart.”
“You bought a Train album!”
“That was one time!”
“Once is plenty!”
Staring at him for a long moment, she finally uttered a defeated sigh. “You’re right. Train sucks.”
“Sure does,” Chris chimed in with an amused grin, then shook his head at them fondly and linked up ahead with Mabel and Matthew.
“You’ve won the battle, Mariano,” she warned, pointing a finger at him. “Not the war.”
“Believe me, I know,” he replied, squeezing her hand affectionately, a smirk on his face. “How’d your presentation go today?”
Ella’s face lost a bit of its mirth and she shrugged, dejected. “Okay, I think. My advisor said I was talking too fast, but otherwise I did well. We’ll see.”
“I bet they didn’t know what hit ‘em, honey. I mean, we practiced like fifty times. You had it word-for-word last night,” he said, growing more earnest. “I’m sure you were amazing.”
She averted her eyes from him. “Maybe. I felt like I was getting suffocated up there wearing those clothes, though.”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t the worst outfit,” Jess said. “It had a certain American Psycho thing going for it.”
“And that’s good?” she asked with a doubtful chuckle.
“Not good, per say, but definitely interesting,” he replied, nonchalant. “I can’t believe you can do things like that. Just get up there and speak. I would pass out on the spot.”
“Well, then I’m glad you’ve got a job where you can be all Phantom of the Opera and hide out in that tiny office all day,” she said with a grin.
Over the past few weeks, the guys had finally turned the back rooms of Truncheon, previously just storage space, into offices. Each one could barely hold a desk, but they were enough. Jess had already collected an impressive pile of books in one corner. The Hudson River sketch sat in a small frame next to his bulky, aged computer.
“Yep. Counting my blessings,” he quipped flatly as they approached the bar.
.   .   .
For once, the St. Patrick’s Day decorations hung year-round at Keeley’s were semi-appropriate, with the holiday having been only a week past. They shone, green and tacky, in the yellow light of the main room. Leo sat on a stool on the small stage, doing his final number. An array of instruments were set out around him: guitars, tambourines, a keyboard, a bass. His closing song was played on a ruan, a Chinese lute he’d bought as a teen on a trip to visit his grandparents, when he was just beginning to write his own music. Ella thought it was perhaps his versatility that made Leo such an incredible musician. As only a half-decent piano player, she couldn’t imagine learning something with strings or sticks. She had no idea how he had picked up so many different skills.
Chris, Matthew and Mabel were all floating in the middle distance somewhere between buzzed and fully drunk, nursing local beers and watching Leo with thoughtful, glazed eyes. Both Jess and Ella sipped on club soda, sat in the booth across the table from their friends. No matter how much Ella insisted she didn’t care if Jess drank, he never really did. He thought it was a pretty good idea, considering his own mother’s history with addiction. And what was the point of being drunk if Ella wasn’t going to be drunk with him? It would be no fun if he couldn’t go on the ride with her, anyway.
The crowd had been lively when they first arrived, tables packed and customers chatty. But as the evening wore on, parties left, congestion dissipated. A few lonely individuals sat solemnly at the main bar. Leo had a moderately receptive audience, though the band performing before him had a bit more notoriety and a larger fan-base. By the final number, only the five of them remained at their half-table, half-booth, looking on with pride and intrigue. Ella thought she had never seen Chris smile so big as he did at Leo’s gigs. The starry gaze was a bit saccharine, but most of the time it was tolerable, and even cute.
“He’s really good,” Mabel said softly as Leo reached the instrumental.
“Isn’t he?” Ella whispered back across the table emphatically.
Mabel nodded, her bright brown eyes sparkling. “His voice kinda reminds me of The Smiths”
Ella’s smile widened. “I love them!”
“Oh, they were basically all I listened to in high school,” Mabel said, nodding in agreement.
“Not you too,” Jess chagrined from beside Ella, his arm around her shoulders.
“What?” Mabel asked, raising one of her thick eyebrows. Ella wished she could have Mabel’s eyebrows. They seemed to be shaped perfectly, and didn’t even need to be filled in.  
“Jess thinks he’s too good for indie,” Ella said.
“No, I just never find myself in the mood to listen to some guy whine into the microphone,” Jess said, scoffing slightly.
Ella shook her head in disappointment. “It’s poetry!”
“Even worse,” Jess retorted.
She rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t respond as Leo began singing again. Jess’s fingers ghosted over her shoulder up and down, making pleasant goosebumps rise on her freckled skin. As Leo’s voice rolled gently over the last few words of the song, Ella closed her eyes and felt the notes vibrate in her chest. Jess looked over and found her looking calm, far away inside her mind as she listened. He pressed a kiss to her hair and a tiny smile passed over her lips, though she didn’t open her eyes until the final chord finished its reverberation through the room. The five of them erupted in cheers and applause, which sounded scant in the nearly empty place. Leo smirked at them from the stage and gave a mocking bow.
“They say the underground following is the most devoted,” he muttered into the mic, stripping off his ruan. Then, he looked up at the large clock across the room. “But since we’ve still got ten minutes left, why don’t we get secret musical prodigy Ella Stevens up here?”
Ella’s brow crinkled with confusion, and her smile faltered. “What?”
“You never told me about the piano thing! C’mon, take advantage of this keyboard,” Leo called over the mic.
She glared over at Chris, who pretended not to feel her eyes on him. “What did you tell him?”
After a moment, Chris slowly craned his neck in her direction. “Who? Me?”
“Asshole,” she hissed under her breath, narrowing her eyes.
“Hey, I was simply relaying what little interesting information exists about you,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.
Ella ran her finger horizontal across her neck, a teasing threat.
“We don’t have all night, Ella,” Leo continued into the mic.
“Yeah, let’s hear it, Ella. I’m sure you’re great,” Mabel said genuinely, leaning over the table, conspiratory and cheerful. The positivity would have been annoying if Mabel were not so down-to-earth.
“Agreed,” Matthew chimed in.
Ella laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “No one wants to subject their ears to that, I promise.”
“I don’t know, Stevens. I was pretty starstruck the one time I heard you play in all six years I’ve known you,” Jess smirked, eyebrows raised.
“Judas,” she spat at him, removing his arm from her shoulder.
“If you can get up in front of two hundred people to talk about the effect of the lost generation on modern art, you can do this, Daria,” he continued, unphased by her grouchiness.
Heaving an ambivalent sigh, she listened to their persistent encouragement. Then, with one final huff of obstinacy, she stood from the table and marched up to the stage. She flipped them off behind her head as they gave hoots of satisfaction and Leo set the keyboard up at the front of the stage, with the stool and microphone.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” she whispered to Leo.
He gave a nod, humoring her. “Yes, I fear you.”
“Well,” she said sardonically, sitting down and watching as he descended the stairs. “In a minute, you’ll pity me. I did not inherit my mother’s talent!”
She felt her heart expand when she saw Chris give Leo a congratulatory kiss before they settled into their seats next to each other. Then, she rolled her eyes at herself for not sticking to her ill will, and dropped her eyes to the keys. They were shiny white and black, newer but less charming than the piano at Miss Patty’s. Her fingers were poised over the keys, and she swallowed dryly, remembering. She’d couldn’t quite place when the last time she’d played had been.
Glancing up nervously, biting the inside of her cheek, she caught Jess’s eye. He threw her another wink and she let out a scoff at him. The longer she sat up there, the more her heart slowed. She straightened her back, felt herself regaining the old position. Resisting the urge to tug anxiously at her earring, she flipped for a moment through her mental catalogue. Then, she cleared her throat and let a small, wicked grin cross her lips.
“Fine. But this is your funeral, everyone,” she quipped. “This song is dedicated to Chris, who is fucking wrong about Joni Mitchell.”
A final, slight shake of her head and she launched into “Blue.” Her fingers were rusty and creaky, but the song flowed out of her as though she had just learned it. She couldn’t sing nearly as high as was necessary for an exact recreation, but she was getting at more of a tuned down interpretation. Her voice was raspy, and Jess was never surprised how much she identified with Stevie Nicks. Though recently, there had been more Amy Winehouse spinning on the turntable. And Ella knew she could never sound remotely like Amy Winehouse.
The stage light was whitish and soft, and Jess could feel his heart do a skip at the sight of her. She wasn’t the greatest musical talent, but it wasn’t pure talent which made her breathtaking to him. It was the way her eyes shut and her voice lilted with emotion. How she lit up so wholly when she played. And how fearless she had always been, putting herself out there with not a care in the world for what others thought of her. No stage fright, only perfectionism holding her back. She was only ever completely herself, perhaps what he admired most about her. His intrepid artist, with dimples and green flecks in her eyes and messy hair and a fashion sense not quite like anyone else. Warmth filled his heart and his body and his mind, and he could only watch her with a tiny smirk on his face. And he had never felt so sure of anything before.
.   .   .
The cap of the red pen was clamped between her teeth, her back against the wall, Nietzche staring overhead. Suppressing a yawn, she placed brackets around a paragraph she liked particularly well. Her first read-through of the new book had taken almost no time at all, as she devoured Jess’s prose fervently. She’d suggested some revisions, added some comments, without being asked. Jess insisted she didn’t have to do that work for him, especially not for free, but she told him she simply enjoyed it. It reminded her of the days when they wrote notes to each other in borrowed texts, those which ended up sitting in a shared pile, all mixed together, in their bedroom. And he had only smiled in response. Once again, it had shocked him how invested she could be in art. Not that he would ever call his writing ‘art,’ especially how much he despised his first novel upon rereading. But Ella asked for the second draft once he had revised, offering her critical eye, if he wanted it. He did, of course. And she was nearly done. There were noticeable improvements, and several new sections. It was coming together before her eyes, and sometimes she wanted to tear up out of pride.
Breeze seeped in through the draughty window, and she tugged the blanket up over herself a little more. Her impromptu performance at the bar, which ended with her flustered in the wake of everyone’s compliments even though she was aware she was nothing compared to Leo, had left her jittery and awake. Even after the presentation at school. Not exactly anxious, but charged with pseudo energy. She was only riding it until the crash. Jess wasn’t snoring yet, and she knew he wasn’t asleep, but dozing. Midnight had already passed into the early morning, and the rain was picking up again, pounding on the roof above them. Every so often, Ella looked precariously up at the water spot near the bedroom door.
Sighing faintly, she turned the page, more semi-stream-of-consciousness insights after a perspective shift. She had to commend him on his recent experimentation. She hadn’t expected it. Her face softened as she read the next paragraph, a new addition to the draft. It was through the eyes of the main character as he watched a woman paint a mural on a nondescript city street.
Racing, racing, racing of his heart, beating against his ribs like footsteps at the sight of the woman. Eyes from bottom to top, from battered shoes to patterned skirt and button-up shirt, protected by a dirty, threadbare apron. Strangers, he thought, strangers everywhere with separate stories to tell, unaware of his thoughts or his feelings or his words or his face. She looked like she belonged, despite her complete uniquity. He couldn’t imagine looking so established in any place, so uniform in unconformity. He wondered who she was painting it for, the ghostly figure surrounded by dead flowers and trash, a vision of the post-industrial American wasteland. Not many people were likely to see it under the bridge, which looked like where teenagers would come to smash light bulbs and kiss each other with teeth clashing together and sweat out their last bit of rebellion. He wondered who had assigned her the location, if she had chosen it herself, if she was painting only for herself.
The intensity in her eyes told him she could have been, green pools of vigor and concentration as he approached, boots rhythmic on the cracked sidewalk. A tragedy, he thought suddenly, staring at her near-finished creation, she was painting a tragedy and she knew it. She could feel it. He saw it not so much in her form as in the eyes of the ghost in the painting, hollow and desolate, with a single jewel of color in the middle. The rest of the piece was only in shades of gray, a hopelessness exacerbated by more small, foolish hope. He almost laughed under his breath, instead allowing his eyes to fall back on her as he passed around her, leaving considerable space between them. He didn’t want to interfere, break her focus, not that she looked as though she could ever be shaken by anything. Their eyes locked for only a moment, as she stepped back to regard her work. She didn’t smile, she didn’t frown, she only saw. She saw, and then she was out of sight again. And another story was behind him.
Smirking slightly as she read, she capped the pen again once she had finished. And she placed the manuscript on the bedside table neatly next to her. She switched off the last lamp and settled down into the sheets. Jess breathed deeply, stirring at her movements. She turned over on one side to face him, their noses only inches apart.
“Jess?” she asked.
“Hm?” he hummed, eyes cracking open.
“Can’t sleep?”
“I’m getting there,” he shrugged, though they both knew it wasn’t exactly the truth.
Ella nodded. “Well, I got to the part where he sees the woman painting the mural. And I have to say, I think I recognize the influences.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Maybe James Joyce wasn’t completely incoherent. It wasn’t serious, though. It was meant to be making fun of his adolescent emotionality, like Stephen in Portrait.”
“Ah, I think I’ve officially converted you,” she said, her smile growing wider.
“I think you’re speaking too soon,” he replied.
“Agree to disagree.” Her tone was light and sincere as she continued, though her smile shrank. “Did you really love me when you first saw me?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s it, Chatty Kathy?” she asked, eyebrows raised in annoyance.
Jess sighed. “Well, what do you wanna know?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to understand it,” she said, studying his face with narrowed eyes. If he knew the section she had just read, he shouldn’t have been surprised by the question. Besides, she had been wondering for a while. How someone who had been bitten by the world so many times could still believe something so romantic. In a way, she was envious, and in another way, she was scared for him. “Why did you tell me it was that day in the gazebo?”
He paused for a long moment, running his hand over his mouth. She could see his grandfather’s necklace peeking out from the collar of his t-shirt and glinting in the moonlight, which streamed through the window. He barely ever took it off.
“Well, first of all, I knew there was no chance you’d run away with me if you thought I was crazy enough to believe in love at first sight,” he explained slowly, trying to ignore the embarrassed squirming in his stomach. “I was trying not to scare you off. Shocking, I know, considering what a Romeo and Juliet stunt I was pulling.”
“He could’ve just waited to drink the poison,” she agreed, earning her a chuckle.
“And, at the time,” he continued, growing a bit more confident in his articulation, “I wasn’t even sure. For a long time, I couldn’t figure out when I fell in love with you. Eventually, I realized the reason was because I had been in love with you the entire time.”
She hummed, her brows furrowing inquisitively. “I just can’t imagine it.”
“Which is why the amount of poetry you read will never make sense,” he said. Then, after a moment more of gathering his thoughts: “And it’s not the same kind of love. It’s still love, but it’s not the same as what I felt after I got to know you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Breathing out a long breath, Jess searched again for the right phrases.
“I don’t know, Stevens,” he admitted, biting down on his lip for a moment. “Maybe it’s more like I knew I would love you. I saw you, and I knew I loved you before I knew why I loved you. Now, I know why.”
She nodded earnestly against her pillow, damp hair smelling of lavender. “Curiouser and curiouser, Mariano.”
“Not to the Hemingway fans among us,” he said.
“Well, Hemingway fans are the biggest romantics. It’s a universal law,” she replied, voice growing heavier with fatigue. Finally, it seemed, the rush of the night was wearing off, replaced by a tranquil ease she hadn’t expected. Spring break was long overdue.
“So I’ve heard,” he replied fondly. “I told you the first time we met, y’know.”
“What?”
“That I loved you.”
She furrowed her brows suspiciously, a smirk tugging at one corner of her lips. “I think I would’ve remembered that.”
“Well, I didn’t say it in so many words.” Jess’s eyes twinkled with teasing, and she scoffed.
“You did not.”
“Yes, I certainly did.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious, Daria.”
Her face lost its brevity as she saw he was, in fact, serious, despite how cocky he sounded. Playing the memory over in her mind, she was hit was nostalgia and confusion. Humming Stevie Nicks, spilling salt, empty threats, cleaning tables with Jess following behind her, never losing his wiseass remarks or his sarcastic grin. Then, after a moment, it hit her. As you wish. She had hardly noticed it at the time. Only a reference, leading to their first argument over movies versus books. The words Wesley had spoken to Buttercup in The Princess Bride as a way of saying 'I love you.' She never even considered its meaning.
She let out a breathy, surprised chuckle. Meeting his eyes again, she shoved his shoulder playfully and flipped onto her back. She stared up at the ceiling, noticing the water spot again. The raindrops pattered a steady beat. “Fuck off.”
“What?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow and tilting his head at her in amused askance.
“Jesus. That is so...sweet and wonderful. And fucking cheesy. Makes me sick,” she said, though she grinned through her words. She sighed and shook her head slightly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose as she giggled again. “I don’t know whether to murder you or marry you.”
His breath caught in his throat for a second, but he regained his composure before she opened her eyes again and smiled up at him. “Well, maybe meet me in the middle and let’s get our own apartment?”
“Really?” she asked. So much information was flying at her, she didn’t know which thread to latch onto. And, unbeknownst to Jess, she was fighting the lump in her throat. She may have been a realist, but she wasn’t heartless. And she wondered how long she would be able to hold off the tears that threatened to spill over. A deep, aching love spread throughout her. It almost made her dizzy with joy. As you wish, he had said. It played over in her head suddenly, as though she had just heard it.
“Yeah,” he said, averting his gaze hesitantly. “It doesn’t have to be right away. There’ll probably be more leases in the summer once all the students go home. But I thought...maybe we’d have room for a keyboard or something. An easel, too. And we could stop hearing Chris and Matthew argue over which place has the best burritos at three in the morning. What do you think?”
“We could get an actual shelf for all your books,” she said, holding her smile.
“Yeah. You could organize them whatever way, if you want.” Jess tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he spoke, then leaving his hand to rest on her cheek. “Or, I could do it. There is a method to my madness, y’know.”
“Okay, I’ll definitely need a couple months to decide whether to do color coordination or alphabetical order, then,” she said.
Jess chuckled. “Yeah, we’ll take some time. But...you want to?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do, James Dean,” she whispered softly. She placed a gentle hand on the back of his neck, and brought him in to place a sweet kiss on his lips. He smiled against her, nerves calming and body relaxing with her touch.
As they broke apart, he laid back down on his side, drawing her closer to him with an arm over her waist.
“I love you, Mariano,” she said, eyes fluttering shut.
“Love you back, Stevens,” he replied, thinking he may not be able to handle the pleasant butterflies erupting in his middle.
She breathed in contentedly. “And your new book is the next Great American Novel.”
“I doubt the New York Times will think so.”
“Well, I do,” she said simply. “You’re the fucking best.”
“It’s been said,” he quipped, finally shutting his own eyes. Their words had turned to murmurs, cozy and soft beneath the sound of the rain.
“But, I especially love how humble you are,” she added, yawning against the back of her hand.
“Right back at ya,” he deadpanned.
Snorting a laugh, Ella shifted so she was flush against him, warm in the cold room. And, by the time the sun rose through the breaking clouds, the rain had stopped completely.
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ejzah · 4 years
Note
This is a story idea way back when the series first began and when Deeks was first introduced. Could you PLEASE write a story about everyone’s reactions when they learn that Jason Wyler is actually undercover Detective Marty Deeks. It’s always annoyed me we never saw everyone’s reactions and I would also love it if we got a formal introduction too please.
A/N: So...a lot of this ended up being from Kensi’s perspective, but I did get most the team’s reactions in to some degree. I hope this is ok.
***
“This guy’s a detective?” Sam repeated, addressing the tiny woman who had introduced herself as Henrietta Lange, instead of Deeks. His tone was definitely insulting. Now mostly over his initial shock of finding out that he wasn’t the only one undercover, Deeks resisted the urge to say something particularly unpleasant and instead smirked at the other man. Agent Sam Hanna from some fancy pants Federal Agency.
“It’s ok, don’t feel bad. I’ve fooled a lot of people before,” he responded, having a feeling it would tick Hanna off even more. He was right; Hanna made a derogatory noise, his expression disgusted, and jerked his thumb in Deeks’ direction.
“I thought LAPD had a dress code. They must really be going down hill if they’re accepting hippies off the street.” Deeks huffed out an unamused laugh. Like he hadn’t heard something similar a hundred times before. He expected a Fed to be cleverer than that honestly.
“I used to be a lawyer too,” he told Hanna who looked appropriately aghast. “And before you ask, my hair was even longer.” Deeks let his gaze flick up to Hanna’s shaved head. He could easily see the man being ex-military. He had that holier-than-thou attitude that came from years of ordering other people around and assuming you were always right.
“Alright, enough chit-chat gentleman,” Ms. Lange decided, stepping between them, her hands folded together. “We have work to do. And Detective Deeks should probably meet the rest of the team as well.”
Deeks followed after them, figuring that he wasn’t going to get anywhere by being too resistant. Besides, he was oddly intrigued by Henrietta Lange. And also a little intimidated and terrified. But he wouldn’t mention that part.
“So tell me, who all is on this team?” he asked as Sam and Ms. Lange lead him to a shiny SUV. “And where exactly are you taking me?”
“The boat shed,” Sam answered shortly, ignoring the first question.
“Ooh, sounds fancy.”
“How about we keep the small talk to a minimum?” Deeks pursed his lips at the suggestion, thinking that Hanna was about to find out just how chatty he could be. He smirked again, biting back a chuckle. If this NCIS place could mess up his op, then he could certainly ruin their day.
***
“Wait, how did LAPD get in on this?” Callen asked and Kensi perked up, wondering what Hetty was telling him. He sounded vaguely annoyed. “Ok, yeah, we’ll be at the boat shed.” Hetty had called Callen about five minutes ago with an update and there’d mostly been silence on his end. She waited impatiently for him to hang up.
“What was that about? Did Hetty get Sam out?” Callen chuckled at her questions, shaking his head as he slipped his phone into his back pocket.
“Yep, Sam’s out. And apparently Wyler got released too.”
“What? But, he attacked Sam,” Kensi said, wondering just what kind of criminal Jason Wyler was that he had strong enough connections to get out of jail after assaulting a federal agent.
“Turns out Wyler is actually some kind of undercover cop. Martin Deeks, Hetty said,” he explained with a frown.
“You’re kidding.” Kensi had known there was something off about Wyler, but a cop?
“Unfortunately I’m not. I’m gonna text Eric and see what he can dig up on this guy now that we have a real name.”
Kensi waited a few minutes and then peered over Callen’s shoulder, trying to read his texts.
“What did he say?”
“‘That makes a lot of sense. I’ve got a whole file on a Detective Marty Deeks. Looks like he’s a good cop, but whoever sets up his backstopping needs to be fired.’,”Callen read off and Kensi rolled her eyes.
“And?”
“He said to send Deeks over when we’re done so he can give him a “real” alias. He’s worried about the guy getting marked.”
“Eric hasn’t even met him yet,” Kensi protested, annoyed.
“You know Eric. He can’t resist the chance to geek.”
About 30 minutes later, Hetty, Sam and Detective Deeks walked in. Hetty led the small group and had the barest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips as Sam walked behind her, his expression stony and impassive.
Deeks stopped in the doorway, glancing around with a vaguely impressed look. He spotted Kensi, one eyebrow rising briefly, and she crossed her arms defensively. If he was surprised to see her there, he didn’t show it. He winked at her, then practically swaggered the rest of the way into the room like he owned the place.
Hetty cleared her throat and gestured to him.
“Everyone, this is LAPD Detective Marty Deeks. Detective, these are Agents Callen and Kensi Blye.” She smiled in a satisfied way and added, “Play nice.” Without another word, she left.
“Deeks,” Callen acknowledged him. “Why don’t you take a seat?” Deeks raised an eyebrow at the clear attempt to control the situation but sauntered over to the table, hooked his foot around a chair and sat down in an insolent manner.
Sam followed the movement, his face remaining impassive, but Kensi thought she saw a hint of animosity. That was unexpected. From what she’d experienced, he usually didn’t let his emotions show unless it was a particularly personal case. Apparently Deeks rubbed everyone the wrong way.
With a little prompting, Deeks explained his plan to get Sam arrested and keep him out of the gym, and effectively out of LAPD’s way.
She was vaguely impressed by his skills and ingenuity, but brushed that thought away. He was pretty good, but not as good as them. Plus, she’d known something was off about him immediately, she’d just been wrong about the root cause. Kensi also silenced the voice that reminded her that he’d been suspicious of her as well.
Deeks helped himself to some coffee, again making himself at home as he smiled cockily and joked, easily guessing their set up at the mission. Kensi resisted the urge to laugh as he teased Sam and Callen. It wasn’t good-natured teasing either, anymore than their comments to him were well-meant.
Clearly he disdained them. Good, she didn’t like him either. He was full of himself, too self-assured, scruffy, unkempt. Blue-eyed and blonde, the voice in her head supplied helpfully.
Shut up, she told it firmly. Callen and Sam were wrong. She did not have a thing for him. He was a mediocre cop who’d obviously gotten in over his head. He glanced her way, that sarcastic, half-flirty smirk in place and she stared back at him, hoping to unnerve him. All she got in return was a smoldering look, his blue eyes daring her to look away first.
Despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel a little bad that they were hijacking Deeks’ case. He’d spent months on it and now they were taking over without any remorse.
“You know, you never answered my question,” Deeks said a while later as she escorted him from the building. “Are there really r-rated photos of Special Agent Kensi Blye floating around somewhere?” Kensi glared at him and said the first thing that popped into her head.
“In your dreams.” It wasn’t particularly brilliant, but Deeks grinned nonetheless and said,
“Gladly.”
“I could take you down right now,” she threatened mildly, but he just kept smiling, clearly not intimidated by her in the slightest. It pissed her off. And intrigued her. Damn him. She would not be attracted to this scruffy, surfer dude.
“I bet you could,” he murmured as they stopped in front of his car. “See you around Agent Blye.” He winked at her again before he slid into his car and drove off.
“I don’t like him,” Sam said coming up behind her with Callen by his side.
“At least he’s on our side,” Callen pointed out. “It would be a lot more annoying if he was actually a criminal. Let’s just hope he stays out of our way for the rest of the case.”
“And once we close the case won’t have to see him ever again.” Kensi said, not sure why she felt a hint of regret at the thought. She was definitely not smitten.
“Thank god,” Sam said. “Cause I think I’d end up shooting him if I had to listen to his rambling for more than a few days.”
***
A/N: Hopefully this is ok. I really played on that fact that none of them got along super well at first.
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