#i do like the last name wiseman so much though i just want to distance whatever im doing with them with mb. its not truly mb anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trvelyans-archive · 3 years

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something to look forward to

mari wiseman x gray black. 4k words.

Is there a piece of popcorn in your hair?

“Mari, are you listening?”

You snap to attention, finally glancing away from the mirror in the bathroom and rolling your eyes. “Yes, Dad, I’m listening,” you reply, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear while you tug your boots on. “You must not be, though, because I’ve reminded you more than once that it’s only a ten-minute walk to the train station and that I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“I should just come and get you,” Nick says. It’s past midnight now – you had to stay after your shift ended, cleaning up a puddle of Pepsi on the floor that you found accidentally after kneeling down to grab some popcorn from under the seats – and no matter what you say, he insists that you’re going to run into trouble on the way home (even though you have the grumpiest face in the Chicago area – probably all of Illinois – and there’s probably very few people who would approach you because of it without even starting to consider the whole mind-blind thing). “Did you at least bring a hat?”

You pause. “Yes?”

“Mari –“

“Nick, it’s minus ten.” You zip up your jacket and straighten, reaching to grab your phone to make sure it doesn’t topple to the ground while you swing your bag over your shoulder. “That’s nothing.”

“Alright,” he concedes, sensing that you’re not going to budge. “But… call me if you see anyone acting - I don’t know, suspicious, okay?”

“Don’t you worry enough at work?” you ask, reaching for the bathroom door and pulling it open. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

“Button.” You can hear a smile in his voice. “I never get tired of you.”

You nod at the co-worker by the ticket booth as you wander through the lobby, your boots squeaking loudly against the floor. You don’t know how they didn’t dry in the eight hours they spent sitting in your locker – they’re still as wet as they were when you got here earlier today. Well, yesterday, technically.

Jesus, you’re tired. He should be more worried about you falling asleep on the train than he should be about you getting mugged.

Before you push open the front doors of the theatre, you pause and heave a sigh, remembering that he’s still waiting on the other end of the line. “I’ll call you if I see anyone acting suspicious,” you promise, hoping that you sound sincere. And you are sincere – even you don’t want to die by a mugging-gone-wrong. “And once I get on the train.”

“And once you get off the train.”

That gets a laugh out of you – not an entirely frustrated one, either, which is a feat to behold, at this hour and after this much badgering. While he can just tune into your thoughts whenever he wants to hear whether or not they’re ‘ah, that customer sucked’ or ‘ah, I’m being actively murdered’, sometimes – especially now that you’re an adult with a part-time job – he likes to let you pretend that you have some semblance of privacy (even though you really don’t). “Alright, before and after I get on the train,” you repeat. “Anything else?”

“Nope. Be safe, okay, Button?”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Love you,” Nick replies. “Bye.”

The call clicks off before you have a chance to say ‘love you’ back, and after spending thirty seconds deliberating whether or not you want to call him again to do so, you decide against it and brace yourself before pushing out into the night.

Thankfully, it’s snowing outside, and you take a minute to tilt your head back and let the snow hit your face. Most people might complain, but you like the snow. It makes everything in the city look pretty… dreamlike, almost. Still, after breaking yourself out of your reverie, you sigh and stuff your phone in your pocket, regrettably beginning to feel the tips of your nose and ears getting cold already. It’s minus ten, you remind yourself, gritting your teeth and dragging your boot-heavy feet down the sidewalk. And you’ve survived worse. Worse weather, and…

Well, worse.

You sigh a second time like a melodramatic dog that hasn’t yet been fed by its owner and glance up just in time for you to notice a man wandering down the sidewalk towards you. Late forties or so, with a leather jacket and slicked back hair – is he a mobster? He walks like a mobster, at least ones that you’ve seen in movies, and – it’s Chicago. He could very well be a mobster.

Should you call Nick?

You opt not to this time, but tighten your fingers around your phone anyway and hold your breath as he gets closer and closer, close enough that you’d probably be able to pick him out of a line-up if he tries anything, and then, in the span of about two seconds, he walks directly past you without even looking over, leaving you shaking in your boots for more than one reason and sufficiently not-mugged. (No word on whether or not you’re sufficiently not-frostbitten, though.) You’re almost disappointed – do you not look put-together enough to at least try mugging? – and then you remember that going unnoticed by as many people as possible is something you usually like, so you let your phone fall to the bottom of your pocket and keep walking. A little faster, this time, though - just to be safe.

Which is good, because it hasn’t even been a full minute when you hear footsteps behind you – quick, careful footsteps, too close for you to run away from.

Oh, well. It was good while it lasted.

“Mari?”

You frown and turn around – sure enough, Grayson Black is standing behind you, a package of toilet paper stuffed under one arm and a paper grocery bag hanging from his opposite hand, his golden-brown hair tucked beneath what looks like a hand-knit toque.

Great. Just your luck. He looks like he stepped out of a Whole Foods advertisement and you’re wearing a coat that’s about three winters old and smell like stale popcorn that someone put way too much butter on.

“Hey, Gray.” You smile at him, trying to pretend that you hadn’t convinced yourself you were within an inch of imminent death. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh – just walking home from the store.” He frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Work,” you say, pointing to the theatre down the block. Grayson follows your finger and then sighs.

“Right.” He turns back to you. “Sorry, Nick told me you were working, I was just… surprised to see you out so late.”

“It’s okay,” you reply. It’s not like you have any friends to go clubbing with, so you can understand his confusion. “Uh – okay, well… See you later?”

“Are you going to the station?” he asks. Why is he still frowning?

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll walk you,” Gray offers.

“I – what?” You shake your head. “No, it’s fine.”

“And it’s late.” He takes a step closer, but not close enough to break the unspoken barrier between you. “Besides… Nick will kill me if he finds out we ran into each other and I didn’t walk you.”

Of course he’s only offering for Nick’s sake. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t tell him.”

“Mari.” God, the way he says your name is a prime example of why every girl in Illinois has a poster of him of their bedroom wall. “Can you let me walk you to the train station?”

You stare at him for a second, sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too wide. “Okay, yeah, sure. When you ask so nicely.”

He laughs and moves closer until you walk side-by-side with the usual distance between you, though it feels much bigger tonight – actually, considering his arm is sticking out half a foot farther than it does most of the time because of the package of toilet paper stuck under it, the gap probably is bigger than usual. You glance around at the street while you walk, listening to the crunch of snow under your boots and the gentle hum of passing cars. God, you’d kill to be in a nice, warm car right now – you should’ve taken a cab.

Actually, no, you’re glad you didn’t. You’re probably safer (and happier) on the street with Gray than you are with a potential Ment cab driver.

“So.” You turn to Gray, and he turns to look at you before you even say anything. “Another late night run for Arizona?”

He laughs again, and you try not to let yourself feel too pleased with yourself about it, because he could just be doing it to be polite, right? “No, not this time,” he answers. “Just some… ah… dish soap. I’ve been out for a week, and…” He grimaces, and you get the sense he’d reach up to scratch the back of his head if he had a free hand. “I finally ran out of plastic cutlery tonight after dinner.”

“Mmm… Well, that’s a good reason for a midnight run to the grocery store if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Of course, a couple cans of Arizona just so happened to fall into my basket, and – it would be rude of me to say no...”

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” You smile. “That’d be downright heretical, and Fortitude has a reputation to keep.”

Gray laughs, louder this time, and you feel your smile widen. “Anyway, enough about me,” he says. “How was work?”

“Ah… it was okay.” You shrug absently, feeling his eyes on you while you do (even though he should be looking at the ground so he doesn’t slip on a patch of ice and fall on his ass). “Had to stay late and clean up, which was gross, but… According to Nick, I have some cookies waiting for me when I get home, so that’s nice.”

“Something to look forward to,” Gray agrees, nodding.

As if anything compares to this.

“Yeah,” you say. “Something to look forward to for sure.”

“Are you getting excited for the Academy?”

You cringe. As thrilled as you were to get accepted into Aeon, the prospect of finally starting there is nowhere near as thrilling. Though it’ll be nice to have classmates that are strictly non-Ments – at least when you’re not working with Sally’s class – the idea of being back in any kind of school isn’t… well, that isn’t something to look forward to. Still… “Yeah, kinda,” you answer. “Not ready to go back to school, I think, but I also don’t want to be scraping gum out from underneath movie theatre seats for the rest of my life.”

He makes a face. “That sounds… gross.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “It is. But I’ve snuck into a couple movies so far and watched them for free, so… it’s an okay trade-off, I think.”

“Sounds like it,” Gray muses. He turns to you. “You’re really not excited to go to Aeon?”

“I said kinda!” you protest.

He smiles. “You shouldn’t be nervous, Mari.”

You’re the one to make a face this time. “Who said I was nervous?”

“No one had to.” He angles his head in your direction like he’s sharing a secret. “I can tell.”

“And Nick told you.”

“Nick… may have mentioned it.”

“I’m not nervous.” You’re lying, of course, because you’re nervous about everything. Right now, only half of your brain is tuned into the conversation because the other half is nervous that you’re going to slip on the ice and break your neck, which would both be not hot and so embarrassing that you’d have to write off your friendship with Gray entirely for the rest of your life and become a full-time hermit whenever he comes over for dinner. “I just… I don’t know…” You kick a block of ice and watch it skitter through the fresh snow in front of you. “I don’t want to disappoint Nick.”

“You could never disappoint him,” Gray responds. “You’re brilliant.”

“Psh. Not even Nick could get away with saying that.”

“He didn’t.” Gray adjusts his grip on the package of toilet paper. “I mean, I’m sure he thinks it. I meant that… I meant that I think you’re brilliant.”

Sure, that could be a really cute compliment Gray gave you, but you’re probably just being too optimistic, right? Like – sure, he’s nice to you and brought flowers to your graduation ceremony and sure, he gave you that cute teddy bear for Christmas and sure, he once brought over a 6-pack of Dr. Pepper for dinner because you were having a bad day and he knows it’s your favourite, but… “Gray,” you sigh. “British people say everything is brilliant.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if his cheeks are pink because of how cold it is out or – well, for other reasons that are so impossible that you don’t let yourself continue that train of thought. “That’s true,” he says. “But I mean it. From the bottom of my heart.”

You don’t know what to say to that, but you don’t say anything. Thankfully, you don’t think Gray seems to mind, because he doesn’t say anything else, either.

There’s a crosswalk coming up, and even though no cars are coming and you could easily get away with some perfectly safe jaywalking, you stop and press the button (ha) anyway and wait for the light to turn, figuring you don’t want to risk it if Gray wants to report anything back to Nick. (Because Nick could very well assume that you jaywalking is something to be grievously concerned about.) Although, on second thought, you’re not sure Gray’s paying very much attention right now – he’s glancing across the street with his eyebrows furrowed, a distant look in his eyes. He must be thinking hard about something, so you elect not to interrupt him.

Now that there’s a lull in conversation, you find your eyelids beginning to flutter. You stayed up late last night after falling down a Wikipedia rabbit hole – that’s why you shouldn’t watch documentaries at three in the morning, you think to yourself - and Nick had to wake you up at noon to make sure that you weren’t late for your shift, so… Yeah, falling asleep on the train sounds like a pretty likely scenario.

Gray shifts his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and once again adjusts his grip on the toilet paper package – as he does, though, it topples out of his grasp and lands perfectly in between your feet with a soft, snowy thump. You bend down to grab it the same time Gray does, of course, because you’re the two most awkward people in the world, and there’s a three-second pause before you finally reach for the toilet paper and scoop it into your arms because it would be too awkward now not to.

“Don’t worry, I can take it,” you say before he can protest. “You have your… uh…” You gesture to his bag. “Hand full, anyway.”

He tries to protest anyway. “Mari, let me –“

“No, it’s okay.” You smile pleasantly at him. “You’re walking me, so I can… you know… take one for the team.”

He deliberates for a second before nodding – you think he might only do that because the crosswalk light has started beeping at you. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The snow is starting to lighten up, now – you can see the train station in the distance. It’s still a few blocks away, which means you more than enough time to make a sufficient fool of yourself. (Or perhaps, continuing the theme of the rest of the night, a not-fool of yourself?) “You know, uh, if you think I’m so brilliant…” You’d put air quotes around it if your fingers weren’t too cold. “Maybe we should have a Scrabble rematch soon?”

You, Nick, and Gray ended up playing a round last time Gray came over for dinner, but Nick stopped halfway through because he was getting bored and decided to go try mixing a new drink instead. Usually you would’ve complained – you like to wipe the literal board with him whenever you can – but it was hard to complain when you were sitting across the coffee table from Gray and splitting a plate of cookies like a couple of little kids. (It’s hard not to feel like a kid around Gray – shy and long-limbed and awkward. Like Bambi, but less cute because you’re a human and also, just generally, not cute.) “I still can’t believe you beat me...”

“Is now a bad time to remind you that I was my school’s valedictorian?”

“Yes, it’s a terrible time,” you reply, watching Gray grin out of the corner of your eye. “English was one of my best classes! I’m supposed to be good at Scrabble.”

“Well… maybe you’ll be better during our rematch.”

Okay. Keep it cool, Mari.

It only sort of sounds like you’re arranging a date with the love of your life and he’s not even taking a couple seconds to be weird about it.

“Oh, I will be better,” you say. “That’s a promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Do you work tomorrow?” He sniffles – he must be cold. This is what he gets for wasting his night walking you to the station instead of going back to his nice, warm apartment. “Maybe I could pick you up after your shift and train with you back to your house.”

“Oh, uh –“ You clear your throat. “Yeah, I work tomorrow! I think I get off at six?”

“Okay, great. Just let me know if – erm, that changes or… something.”

“Yeah, I will,” you reply, a little taken aback.

What in the world is happening?

Did you actually get stabbed by that maybe-mobster, and awkwardly making plans to play Scrabble with Grayson Black is your purgatory?

“Uh… I just – I hope I remember to tell Nick,” you comment. “Not that he’s ever bad when you show up on our doorstep unannounced and ask for dinner…”

“I – I don’t ask,” Gray stammers, “he offers before I can even get a word in, and – and I say yes because it would be rude not to!”

“Mmm… sure.” You shake your head fondly. “You’d probably eat Nick’s dinners every night if you could.”

“Yes, but for the company,” he says, smiling. “Not for the dinner.”

“Not entirely for the dinner.”

He laughs. “Alright, you got me. Not entirely for the dinner. But…” Clearing his throat, he adds, “Mostly for the company.”

You can’t exactly disagree. Nick could serve you a plate with nothing more than an uncooked chicken breast on it and you wouldn’t even care as long as Gray was there to get salmonella with you.

You’re nearly at your stop, you realize suddenly. You’re both disappointed and relieved – disappointed because you always hate to leave Gray, but relieved because things have gone too well so far and you’re starting to get suspicious. It’s just like you always say (to yourself) – you’re not lucky. You’re incredibly unlucky. If something is going well, it means that something incredibly unwell is going to happen as soon as possible.

You pause before you reach the stairs to the train platform and turn to Gray to say goodbye.

“Well… here’s my, uh… stop.”

Gray looks at you. “Here it is,” he repeats.

“Thanks for walking me,” you say. He tilts his head, almost in question, but you continue – “You really didn’t have to.”

“Mari.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch carefully as Gray raises a hand like he’s in a trance, reaching out to you like –

Like what?

Is he going to kiss you?

He blinks and the trance breaks, shattering into a thousand little pieces like a snowy sidewalk under a winter boot. “Oh, sorry,” he says softly, and you don’t miss the way he backs up a half-step. Did he really forget about the… well, everything? He never forgets. Gray drops his hand before raising it to his head again, moving it in little circles near his temple. “You have a –“

Following his movements, you reach up, and –

Of fucking course. There was popcorn in your hair the whole time! You make a note to guilt Nick about distracting you when you get home.

“Damn it.” You pull it out of your hair – how did it get so tangled in there? – and toss it onto the ground, hoping that he’s not going to call you out for littering. (Would that even count?) “Thanks.”

“Uh… you’re welcome.” Gray smiles at you again, and though it’s awkward and a little forced, it’s still a Grayson smile. “I should… let you catch your train,” he continues, running his free hand over his head before scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I should let you get back to – uh – doing dishes?”

He nods, laughing. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds right.” With one last lingering look, he smiles a little wider. “Goodnight, Mari. Get home safe.”

You smile back at him, suddenly bashful. “Yeah, you too.”

Should you watch him leave? No, that’s weird, right? You stand under the streetlight and consider it for several seconds before realizing that you’ve watched him for too long already, and then you shake your head, turning to the stairs and bracing yourself to trudge through the snow that’s gathered on top of them (as if you need anything else to be unnecessarily difficult today). The platform is relatively empty when you reach it, save for a couple of teenage girls and a man in a business suit looking entirely out of place at this time of night and at this weather, and you take a seat on a bench, settling in while you wait for the train to come.

You’re much more aware of how cold it is out now that Gray’s gone – even the sweat on your hands feels like it’s going to freeze – so to distract yourself, you look around the platform for something to entertain you. You manage squint at a weird-looking piece of graffiti a few feet away from you when you hear footsteps approaching.

Sure enough, when you turn around –

“Mari,” Gray says. “I’m sorry, I forgot the –“

He points to your lap, where you’ve diligently placed his package of toilet paper.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” you say, picking it up and holding it out to him from one end so he can grab onto the other. “I totally forgot.”

“No, that’s alright, I forgot too,” Gray assures you, because of course he does – when is he ever anything but nice and diplomatic? Once he’s tucked the toilet paper under his arm again, he chuckles to himself and continues, “Alright. Erm… goodnight again, Mari.”

“Goodnight,” you reply.

With the toilet paper returned to him, he gives you a short, stilted wave before he turns and heads for the stairs again. You force yourself to look the other direction, making a mental note not to stare at him whenever he walks away from you.

You make a couple other mental notes on the train home, too, though it’s mostly in an effort to keep yourself awake. You definitely need to get more than four hours of sleep tonight if you have a long shift again tomorrow, especially since Gray’s coming over; you probably shouldn’t wear new jeans to work in case you run (or, more accurately, sit) into any more puddles, and you might as well bring a hat with you next time you leave the house, because there’s a spare sitting on the shoe rack near the door, anyway.

You definitely make a note to double-check your hair for pieces of someone else’s half-chewed popcorn before leaving the theatre from now on, too - then, when you think about the possibility of running into Gray outside work after all of your shifts from now on, you decide that you should probably triple-check, instead.

#oc: mari #pairing: mari x gray #my writing #my ocs #hi. this is bad. sorry.#ALSO GRAY IS PROBABLY INCREDIBLY OOC SORRY #there is no point to this except me seeing the option to give button a part time job at a movie theatre and getting excited about it #bc it's so MARI !!! it's as mari of an option as Every Single Morbid option !!!#anyway yes here's this. do with it what you will.#also this is so fucking long for no reason sorry LKSDJFLDSJFLKDS #I JUST WANTED TO TALK ABOUT. THEM BONDING AND BEING DOMESTIC OK.#THEY PLAY BOARD GAMES. THEY HAVE INSIDE JOKES. THEY BANTER. ALRIGHT. IS ME WRITING THAT A CRIME.#ok anyway thanks for reading this tags if you read them loVE YOU BYE !!#long post #mind blind

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