#i’ll put it on ao3 later once i get my wifi back and can actually check the grammar | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Lovebug (9/12)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Notes: Sorry for taking my sweet time posting this. We had no wifi for a while, transpo issue and I was dead asleep as soon as I got home two nights in a row lmfao.

Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Levi might have felt a little guilty about letting loose just that evening but his conservative mind was finding all the ways to justify it.

Maybe the justifications held some weight. After all, taking the midnight train out of the city wasn’t the strangest thing to do. Hange and Levi weren’t the only ones at the ticket gate then they weren’t the only ones waiting on the platform. On the train, Levi could count the number of empty seats more easily than the occupied ones.

He started to relax as soon as he settled on one of the seats. He convinced himself that in the end, he had been overreacting. There was nothing at all odd with rushing to her home then to his, packing two overnight bags and buying two last minute tickets to the northernmost station of their country.

To Pemberley. Levi didn’t have the time to load the book into his reader again. He instead downloaded the pdf file to his phone.

He had willed himself to make sense of the black on the bright white screen before deciding, it was too late at night to read. Instead he propped his elbows on the windowsill and leaned his chin on his hand. He snuck a glance at Hange who sat in front of him, leaning on the window in that same way.

A long day behind them, they were both exhausted. On the bright side, if Levi closed his eyes and let the train rock to whatever rhythm it was most comfortable with, he was sure that in a split second, they would have arrived at their destination.

Sleep could have lasted less than a second. Next thing Levi knew, he was fighting to open his eyes. The sun rose without warning, the only thing between them just an empty glass that did nothing to protect him from the first rays of morning.

Levi quickly adjusted his view, making sure he wasn’t directly staring at the sky like a while ago. He craned his head back, instead focusing on the rolling hills and the countryside.

It wasn’t the British countryside in the book. It didn’t seem at all like a Pemberley or a Rosings Park or Longbourn. Still, he delved into the passing green and foraged for whatever similarities his sleep muddled mind could come up with.

One thing Levi dared to note, despite his limited experience traveling, the view from an interregional highway, or an interregional train, the rolling hills that passed by, the clusters of trees that varied in density and the plains that dotted the view were all the same regardless of location. Despite the variety nature could offer, nature still had unifying characteristics. While at the same time, nature was distinct from everything non-nature.

And when it wasn’t unwillingly tamed, paved over, forced to coexist with concrete, buildings and humans, it was a sight to behold.

It was enough to take his breath away, enough to make him almost regretful that the train was moving too fast for him to stare for just a second longer at a changing landscape or canopies that blurred amongst one another.

Eventually, regret at not appreciating nature had him exhausted. He turned in front of him to see Hange’s eyes were fixed at whatever passing objects caught her eye outside the window. Her head bobbed, her eyes darted from left to right and her mouth was half open and she didn’t seem at all in a hurry to close them.

“I’m sure this isn’t your first time seeing this much nature,” Levi said, a humble start to light conversation.

Hange seemed comfortable going along with it. “It isn’t. We had the country club,” she said. There was a nonchalant look on her face as if she saw the ‘country club’ as more of a consolation.

Levi couldn’t help but agree. Golf courses were all green, the mini forests that lined the paths from the golf courses, to the beaches to the summer houses were all nature. Yet they were of a type of nature, trained not to bite any unsuspecting visitors.

When Levi leaned back on his chair, turning his head out of the window, he appreciated the raw green for a second longer. Then he concluded, there was novelty in seeing nature at its most candid form.

Hange spoke up. “You know, I haven’t been able to leave the city since we left the country club. And not traveling in months... This feels new.”

“But you’ve travelled before,” Levi responded.

“Of course I have,” Hange said. “Zeke would always take me out to the best gardens, the best parks, the best hiking trails… He knows I like nature.”

“So he took you to ‘Pemberley?’ Then to ‘Rosing Park then Longborn?” Most were likely fictional places but at that point, Hange may have had her own idea of what fictional was.

“No, not to my Pemberley,” Hange said, like it was the most unimportant thing in the world. “Never.”

“So this was supposed to be your first time going together?” Levi asked. He noted that they never did get to sit down and map the route to Hange’s dream destinations. Hell, he didn’t even know where they were.

He opened his phone, then the map of the northernmost region.

The capital of the northern region had city buses, a small subway system, nothing like what they had back home. Levi traced the blue and the green, pondering for himself which had the most rolling hills, the most ‘gardens.’ Obviously, over a very zoomed out map and a few hundred mile radius, it would be difficult to tell so he consulted Hange. “We could take an unlimited bus ticket… or a two day all you can ride train---”

“No. We rent a car,” Hange said.

“Wait, but if we don’t know the land--.” There were too many excuses he could have brought up. The excuse he was most hesitant to even fathom seemed most pressing then. Levi didn’t know how to drive.

Hange probably saw through it. “I’ll drive.” The cheeky grin on her face was enough of a hint, she was more than ready for adventure.

Levi closed the maps application and pocketed his phone. “So I’m assuming you’ll be doing the navigation.”

Hange only nodded, her smug smile getting wider by the second.

***

Hange surprisingly knew how to navigate the complexities of building an itinerary. What the hell she was doing, how the hell she was doing it and what the hell her plan was, Levi couldn’t be too sure.

Thirty minutes into arriving at the regional train station, they had rented a car and secured a pocket wifi. Thirty five minutes into it, Hange was pulling out of the station in a rented sedan.

The train station was situated in the middle of the city and in the car, Levi had to subdue the panic which came with going out of the city then seeing the scenery slowly shift from five story buildings to two story houses then finally to the peaceful green offered by the city outskirts. He wondered why they had even taken a train station to town if they were going back into countryside landscapes anyway.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Levi asked. Levi knew that Hange had been there once before. Just the idea that someone could actually easily navigate expressways and exits without a phone on the dock and a guide seemed almost unnerving.

“Ish,” Hange said, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“We have wifi, we could use a maps application to navigate?” Levi never drove, he wouldn’t know but, it couldn’t hurt to be just a little more careful.

“Maybe later. I’ve been here more than enough times,” Hange said. They rode in silence for a minute or so more before she turned to him. “We’re gonna be on the road for a while and driving on the freeway gets boring.”

Levi glanced up at her questioningly.

Hange caught his eye “Tell me a story.”

“About what?”

“How was your date with Petra?” The question came out of nowhere and Hange had said it too casually and too abruptly and that had Levi choking on his own saliva.

He recovered quickly, clearing his throat. “Excuse me?”

“Your date with Petra? Didn’t you tell me you would be going on one?”

“I did,” Levi admitted. “Because you asked me to,” he added, a second later.

“I suggested it.” Hange clarified. “And how did it feel?”

“Good.” His response was automatic.

One hand on the steering wheel, Hange pulled her phone from her lap, unlocked it and turned on her modified emotions alarm. “Turn yours on.”

Levi only saw one reason why she’d do all that. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

“Well, you went through all the trouble of making the gift right? Let’s make use of it.”

Levi could have fought. He only needed five seconds to see reason in her order. Besides, if she turned hers on, it would turn out to be a fair trade. He turned on his phone scrolled through the home screens and opened the application.

“So how did it feel?” Hange asked. She set her phone on the stand and hovered one finger over the activate button.

“It felt good,” Levi willed himself to say it with the same conviction as a second ago, firm and straightforward but just a little shaky underneath.

Still too shaky to deceive his own application. A yellow spot just under the words ‘happy’ would have been nice. After all, ‘good’ was a word that generally implied that something was good, something made me happy. The alarm flashed with green and Levi had half the mind to fling his phone over the backseat of the car.

“Happy sad? Or sad happy?” Hange asked, there was a laugh in her voice.

Was she mocking me? It felt like a much better argument to quote her, mock her maybe. He glared at her. You told me love is a choice right? By some allusion, Levi attempted to put it all together. “I’m making the choice to say it was a good and productive date. We tried to pick out a good present for you.”

“And in the end, you decided to make an application,” Hange said. “Did Petra suggest anything?”

“Tea, a wallet, a pencil case…”

“I would have enjoyed those,” Hange said.

“It didn’t seem like that to me,” Levi admitted. He studied her features as he spoke.

Hange’s face was unchanging, her eyes still looking straight ahead. Levi was almost amazed she managed to keep some of her focus in conversation. Hange turned the car, swerving towards one exit.

Levi winced at the white that flashed in front of him for a split second. “How do you feel?” He asked.

“About what?”

“About the date?” He answered. Levi gave Hange a good once over, ending with her hand on the clutch. Her hand wasn’t shaking, but she held it like she was going to pull it out of its place any second now.

Hange paused. She had hovered her hand over the alarm but she never did activate it.

Levi subtly turned towards the phone then back at her. “Happy?” At that point, maybe a mischievous side of him had taken over. He wanted to provoke her.

Hange poked the active button on her phone, much harder than necessary, hard enough for Levi to wonder if it had reduced the phone’s lifespan by even just a year or so.

Her phone flashed once again with a purple dot.

Levi noticed her eyes widen for a second then a flash of pink flowered on her cheeks before she looked away. “Angry sad or sad angry?” He asked, deliberately mimicking Hange’s old tone of a while ago. It came out more of a growl than whatever naturally sing songy voice Hange managed everyday. Either way it had been a satisfying set of motions.

“Angry sad… Or maybe sad angry?” Hange murmured. Then she hummed for a second longer, the car slowed down with it and she turned back to him. “I feel...purple,” she said.

Purple isn’t a feeling. Levi glanced accusingly at her. Hange though wasn’t looking back at him. If she saw anything through her peripherals, she didn’t make it obvious.

With her own series of gestures, Hange had given one message. She didn’t want to be bothered.

Yet, she had asked him about Petra for a reason.

Levi couldn’t tell how much he saw was a trick of the light or a clear hint. Hange’s jaw had tightened, her eyes narrowed ahead. She didn’t talk much after the word ‘purple’ that softened to a whisper mid word.

For the first time, she wasn’t being completely transparent

Levi then felt less obligated to open up. “If you’re feeling purple, then I’m feeling green,” he said.

They didn’t talk for a while after that.

The car exited the main road to a road half its size. Although the car always rattled, it was particularly more obvious then and as Levi looked out the window and back at her, he realized that maybe it was because she was slowing down.

Slowing down, or maybe vacillating the best course of action.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just trying to remember the way around here,” Hange said. She looked behind her, then forward again.

“What are we doing here?”

“I’m gonna use this birthday weekend of mine to take a trip down memory lane, reflect on stuff.”

“If that’s how you want to celebrate your birthday…” Levi checked his phone once more before pocketing it.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Hange said, her tone more serious. “Going on these types of treks, they really help. More than you probably think they do.”

Levi could at least try to understand it, if he just focused on how far apart the houses were, the notable manicured green of his surroundings and every single tree, flower, root and bush that just seemed to have a place. All acting prim and proper as if they were doing the gardens a favor.

There must be some appeal at least. “It’s quiet,” Levi noted as the car slowed to a stop to the side of the road.

“Most of the houses here aren’t occupied,” Hange answered. “Who actually wants to live in the middle of nowhere all year round.”

Levi turned around once, scanning his surroundings for a second longer. The houses were too far apart, he counted five just by doing a 360 but he knew if he squinted and took in the other shapes far past the downhill slope he could count more. “From the looks of the houses here, rich people,” Levi said.

“During the summer maybe or during the winter vacation. Every other time of the year most people will stay out in the city so they’re nearer to work,” Hange said. “Zeke owns this house.” She didn't have to point far, Hange only had to casually brush her thumb over to her side for Levi to follow her gaze.

Of course Zeke would own one. When Levi looked behind him again, then looked to the far left and the far right, he had to admit Zeke had one of the grandest ones, a wide two story mansion situated at the top of a hill.

“This is my Rosings Park,” Hange said. She walked towards the small pedestrian gate, pulled a key from her pocket and with a quick flick of movements--- as if she had done it so many times before--- she unlocked then pushed the metal gate open with a creak.

The view behind the black bars was only more beautiful. They climbed the hill and slowly but surely, Levi was getting a much better view of the house on top. He noted that the house gleamed with a type of beauty that could take one’s breath away. He had been a little self conscious though and he found himself willing his mouth shut, letting his breaths come out with a more rehearsed rhythm.

“Did you ever continue the book?” Hange asked, her eyes fixed ahead.

It was easy to tell which book she had been talking about. “Since you spoiled me? No,” he admitted.

“Then I don’t think you’ve read far enough into the book if you still think Elizabeth ended up with Mr. Wickham,” Hange said. “You probably won’t appreciate Rosings park then.”

“You still remember…” Levi could have sworn it had been months since he told her about the book.

“The book means a lot to me,” Hange said. Her words were a bit more careful that time, but she was starting to climb the hill, a little faster as if whatever scenes were running through her head then had injected in her, enough energy for adventure.

Levi brushed away a rush of guilt and he followed behind her. “Go spoil,” he said. I’m sorry about being angry. He didn’t say those last two words, awe, exhaustion or maybe a combination of both had him opting to stay quiet. Maybe he chose to reflect and as he followed behind, he started to wonder why he had been angry about her spoiling in the first place.

Hange seemed surprisingly eager to spoil him. The first words out of her mouth came out unimpeded. “Rosings Park is where Mr. Darcy first proposed to Elizabeth.”

First proposed. “So she rejected him?” Levi asked.

Hange turned back to him and nodded, a strange smile on her face. “And why do you think Elizabeth would reject Mr. Darcy?”

“He was an asshole right?”

“According to Elizabeth that is…” Hange looked at him expectantly but Levi for the life of him couldn’t tell what she wanted. She didn’t give him time to answer. She ran straight ahead towards the side of the house.

Levi was left with no choice but to follow. After all, the grounds were much larger than Levi had expected. From his view at the bottom of the hill, the house had seemed small, only composed of the front porch. As Hange went behind the house, disappearing in the corner, Levi started to suspect that the summer house was larger.

Consequently, Levi was occupying himself over the wealth of Zeke.

Again. The view didn’t do anything to help. The corner opened up to manicured gardens, clean cut hedges and flowers that could have been arranged by some invisible hand. Or maybe they were arranged artificially. It probably wasn’t beyond Zeke and his money to find ways to grow flowers so they were evenly spaced, further accentuating the fiery orange and bright red on the simple green.

Hange followed the stone path that lined the large house, slowly balancing on the pebbled line that cut between the cobbled stone path like it was a tightrope. She had the balance, maybe the eagerness to look straight ahead, and Levi couldn't really follow her gaze or be certain of where she was staring.

She didn’t look particularly entranced at anything as if she had seen it so many times before.

“This is one of Jaeger summer houses,” Hange said. She stopped by the fork of the path, one side circled the house, the other went straight into the garden. “He has others all over the country, others abroad. Too many to count and I don’t even think I’ve been to all of them.”

“Okay.” Levi had felt pressured to say something. As the awkward silence dragged on, Levi realized that might have not been the best thing to say.

What else was there to say though?

Wow the garden is so nice. It seemed like an appropriate thing to say but it didn’t feel like something he would have liked to admit to Hange.

Wow your husband is so rich. What else would that do but reiterate what Levi already knew?

Wow, I wish I was your husband. That last one felt like a mind fart. Something that had seemed natural to think but as Levi pondered it for a second longer, he realized just thinking that exact phrase seemed all the more inappropriate.

“Does it seem artificial?” Hange asked.

“Yes, it does.” That answer came out easier definitely, especially when it wasn’t a begrudging compliment. Especially when in the back of his mind, he could remind himself, those weren’t his words, those were Hange’s.

Hange continued to indulge him. “Gaudy?”

“Very tacky, incredibly tacky.” Maybe those words had seemed more for him than for anyone else. A hint of guilt settled at his chest but then he remembered, the Jaeger family had more than enough money. He could spare a few unkind words. He looked at Hange, trying his best, to keep his eyes away from the garden in front of him, before he started to doubt the reliability of his own words.

Despite the ‘gaudiness,’ Hange walked ahead, following the stony path and Levi followed behind. Beyond the shiny manicured hedges were benches, a gazebo and Hange sat one of the ones closest to the top, just before the steep incline fell. It was a good vantage point for a comprehensive view of the garden.

At the highest point, the green expanded in all directions. He could pick out how the sun kissed the lawn, the trees and how they shone with something seemingly unnatural. The more Levi stared, the more easily it became to pick out what gaudiness Hange had been talking about.

With his eyes looking out for the right glimmers, he soon figured for himself, they shone like plastic. It soon became apparent to Levi, there was something artificial and tacky about manicured lawns, well trimmed hedges and carefully positioned flowers. The guilt assuaged and Levi felt all the more confident to look back at Hange. “Why do you like it here then?”

“It’s still Rosings park to me,” Hange said matter-of-factly.

“And what’s so special about Mr. Darcy’s first proposal?”

“Read the book,” Hange said as if that were the easiest thing to do then.

The book was loaded into his phone. It was just a few clicks away, reading was an entirely different process and Levi found it tempting to overlook that order---or that friendly suggestion altogether.

“Just spoil me. You spoiled me already before,” Levi said.

“Mr. Darcy first proposed here.”

You said that already. “And? What’s so special about that?”

Hange didn't reply to him immediately. For a long few seconds, she stared at nothing in particular then turned to him, a defiant look on her face. “You know, you remind me of Mister Darcy.” A backhanded insult maybe, enough to have Levi looking away as blood rushed to his face.

Anger, it was definitely anger. “How do I remind you of Mister Darcy?” Levi challenged.

“Read---”

“Don’t.” Levi looked away.. “Tell me to read the book.”

“And there you are again.” Hange waved one hand at him, as if making a point.

A point Levi could only grip weakly. “You think I’m an asshole?” One realization dawned on him, maybe he had been pressing a little too much at her points.

“Not an asshole. A well intentioned man with a very abrasive manner of speaking.”

“Abrasive?” Levi asked. When he realized he put a little too much lip into the ‘br’ and too much throat into that last last syllable that Hange might have just been right, but only just. “What makes you think I’m abrasive?” He added, a second later, just making his manner of saying the word ‘abrasive,’ softer and tamer.

Hange looked pointedly at him. She stood up, right in front of the gazebo. And she stood there for a second longer, as if she expected him to follow.

It was awkward to sit alone on a bench, in a garden he wasn’t familiar with, especially when the partner of the owner was standing seemingly uncomfortable by the gazebo. He stood up and walked towards her.

“Was I at least tolerable?” Hange asked with a very distinct tone, a hint of a mock accent in her voice.

Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. For some reason, those words had stuck with him. “Why the hell are you citing the book?”

“Oh, so you noticed. I wanna play a bit,” Hange said.

“Play what?”

“Just play a bit with the man who reminds me so much of Mister Darcy,” Hange said. The insult still poked at Levi at his most irritable and he was tempted to walk away.

Hange put one hand out and the most natural movement was to look back. “What do you want?” Levi asked. Two parts of him were grappling for control, one with the intention to walk away and one tempted to take her hand. “Why are you putting your hand out?”

She’s married. She’s married. She’s married.

“May I have this dance?” Hange asked.

No, you cannot dance with a married person. People go to balls because they’re single. His conscience wasn’t screaming but it had grumbled it with utmost authority.

Holding hands was off limits. Holding hands with a married person in one of the summer houses of her billionaire husband was very much off limits. What the hell was Hange thinking? His head started to spin, there was a hitch of breath and Levi didn’t even think confusion could have sent a prickle in his eyes.

The hand quickly disappeared from in front of him. Levi looked up to see Hange had pulled that hand back and it fell to her side. Still, Hange was moving it, as if it was still very much fair game. “See, you’re a softie at heart,” she said.

“What are you trying to prove?” Levi asked.

“That you’re like Mr. Darcy?” Hange was getting more and more smug. “Mr. Darcy didn’t wanna dance either.”

“We’re not in a ball,” Levi said, blood rushing to his cheeks. Suddenly everything seemed like an insult. Darcy was an asshole yet a big softie. Two descriptions on two different ends of the spectrum. Levi started to reflect. Which description was more insulting?

Hange leaned back on the gazebo. ”Let me enjoy this, I met a guy who reminds me of mister Darcy. Then when we first met, I thought you hated me, if not hated me, I thought you just hated the world,” she said.

"How can you assume that from our first meeting?" Levi asked.

Hange sighed. "You sat too far away from me, you acted like my being there was an inconvenience and you weren't too happy to be answering all my questions."

"I was being professional."

"I have met sales people nicer than that."

Levi wasn’t a salesman. That much, he could admit. "And just because I was a little abrasive, you'll assume I hate you?"

"What can I say, that's my prejudice," Hange said. She didn't look like she would have bothered to hear much about his explanation.

"And what are you going to say now? My own abrasiveness is pride?" Levi challenged. Really, he was in no mood for a challenge then, a challenge he didn’t himself understand. He sighed and turned back to the bench. From the mischievous glint in Hange’s eyes, it was obvious there were way more things he still didn’t understand. “Give me time to finish the book,” he said.

He stretched his legs out, unlocked his phone and opened the ebook file.

He didn't remember the last words where he stopped but he did remember one particular passage that seemed a little bolder, the ink darker particularly on the bright white of his phone screen.

You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so.

Then comprehension came quickly after that. Levi scanned through the next page, until reaching a point where he knew there was new information.

Back to that asshole Darcy. At that point, Levi was in less of a mood to reflect. Hange had called him Darcy, he still considered that one character to be a total asshole and he found himself torn between denying and accepting his sad fate.

Hange continued to move, a flicker at his peripherals. He felt it clearly, she sat beside him again. He heard the click as she unlocked her phone. Then the all too familiar sound as the love alarm activated. Love alarm or Emotion alarm?

Levi cursed himself for reusing that damn sound. He glanced quickly, just to search for some flash in the color. He couldn't really tell the contents of her phone from his angle. And when he had gathered up the courage to look, Hange had already pocketed it.

“Peaceful isn’t it?” Hange started.

“How do you feel today?” Levi asked. He kept his voice disconnected, not looking at all at Hange.

“Happy,” she said.

Levi had turned on his own application almost surreptitiously, making the conscious effort to silence it just a second ago.

The alarm flashed before him again. A very familiar yellow, with the words happy on top.

“Good for you then,” Levi finally responded.

He made another conscious effort, a quick sanity check, just to make sure the smile wasn’t apparent in his tone.

The house wasn't empty.

As Levi soon found out as they made their way back out to the gate, there were housekeepers, gardeners. And they seemed fond of Hange, fond enough to even remember her birthday. Some had even been friendly enough to ask who the man with her was.

Friendly. Or suspicious. For a while longer, Levi was self conscious.

But there was nothing to hide. He and Hange after all had just gotten friendly over the months.

“This is Levi, he’s a developer helping me work on my PhD,” Hange explained it like it was just the truth.. “And I thought I’d show him around the estate. If you don’t mind…” And it was the stone cold truth and as she spoke, Levi couldn’t help but be fascinated at how feelings of sadness, guilt and relief mixed so easily together inside him.

The housekeeper shook her head. “No, we don’t mind at all. Do you two need lodging? We could prepare---”

Hange put her hands up in front of her. “No, that would be too much. We’re only here for the night and I think I wanna go further up north.”

“Just like last time?�� Worry flashed across the housekeeper’s face for just a second. “You know it gets dangerous nearer to the mountains…”

“We’ll only be there for a while, just long enough to see it again. And we’ll be careful about it.” Hange looked like she was saying too much. But she always talked so it shouldn’t have been such an odd thing to think. Maybe because Hange spoke with a little more tension, her words came out of her much faster, sometimes stilted and Levi found himself staring, then avoided her gaze as he realized he couldn’t even control what he was feeling.

The quick exchange eventually ended and he was following Hange out of the house. Her strides were much harder to keep up with.

“Sorry about that,” Hange said. “I get nervous when I visit the Jaeger estate alone.”

“You’re married to Zeke, you have every right to be there.”

“I married Zeke, not his money. I don’t wanna play the partner that just suddenly enjoys all the richest and powers of my husband. That’s why I didn’t even take his name. I’m not a gold digger. I’m not a Jaeger, we just so happened to get married.” She got into the car and closed the door with a louder slam than usual.” I’d feel much better staying over if Zeke was with me.”

“You didn’t have to take me here either if you were uncomfortable.”

“I wanted to show you my Rosing Park,” Hange said. She placed her hand on the clutch and started the car. “And next, we go to ‘Pemberley.’ It’s a few hours away from here so buckle up.”

The car pulled out from the driveway and soon they were out on the road again.

A few minutes of silence later, Levi started to get a little restless. “This book really means a lot to you huh?” He asked.

Hange nodded then she was quiet for a while longer and Levi thought it proper to just let her navigate her way through. The car continued to whirr and if Levi looked closely, he even noticed his body was shaking with it. If he read for a while longer, he could end up with his head spinning and his eyes crossing. He increased the font size and willed himself to read again.

“You know,” Hange’s voice was ringing in the silence and it pulled him out of his semi concentrated state.

Levi looked up at her, and just behind her, he saw they arrived back in the free way.

Hange continued. “One thing about Pride and Prejudice, the author doesn’t spend too much time talking about how the landscapes look like. The appearance of the houses and gardens are up for interpretation.”

Levi recalled, Hange was a very inquisitive person. Enough to hyperfixate on landscape? He was doubting. “Then why did you imagine Zeke’s manor as Rosings?” He asked.

Hange shrugged. “If you read the book, you’d see, it was the home of Lady Catherine, an incredibly tacky place and if you remember the gardens behind the house, they’re very green but they seem…. Artificial? Rehearsed?” She gave a pained look.

“Then why do you care enough to look at them if you hate the gardens that much?”

Hange shook her head. “I don’t hate them but the novel, it made me reflect on a lot of things and sometimes, when I allow myself to look at the landscapes, I’m able to think about what happened in the book, and about love and---”

“So Mr. Darcy proposed to Elizabeth,” Levi interrupted. “Then what happened?”

“She turned him down,” Hange said.

“Why?”

“To put it simply, because she thought Darcy was an asshole.”

“It’s only natural that people wouldn’t want to marry an asshole right?” Levi asked. “Books should be teaching those types of things.”

Hange spared him a long glare. “Well, here’s the thing. Mr. Darcy isn’t an asshole. He’s misunderstood.”

“And what do romance novels do but romanticize every single ‘misunderstood’ man.”

Hange hummed and stared back again at the front. The car continued to move at a steady pace. A long pause followed. Then she spoke up again. “What if I told you Pride and Prejudice is not really a romance?”

“When it follows a couple and the development of a relationship, I think it counts.”

Hange patted the steering wheel. “Well sure, the novel tackles love and marriage but the approach is… cold, calculating. If you notice, they spend more time discussing money, properties, duty. It takes into account money, status, upbringing… so it seems more like a social commentary to me. ”

You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so.

“Then how did this book shape your idea of love?” Levi asked.

Hange put her finger to her chin. She had a far off look. “I like the idea of approaching love as something to calculate and to think about. Like Elizabeth and Darcy, they explored it, they thought long and hard about it..”

“Oh?” Levi asked, one eyebrow raised. “Is this where your ‘love is a choice’ schtick comes from?”

Hange bit her lip. “Not just that definitely. There’s a lot to learn about being hasty, about having to think long and deep about love and marriage. They didn’t fall in love at first, they were prideful. They had their prejudices but they made it work… And I thought to myself, maybe these are what love and marriage are? Maybe they're calculating like a science, maybe we should consider everything from reputation, money, family and convenience when we deal with something like love and marriage and it’s okay to approach life that way.”

For some reason, that tirade only made Levi heavier and heavier the more he continued. "The main character… she turned down Mr. Collins proposal and that was because she didn't love him right? Emotions play a part too," Levi said.

"I'm not denying it," Hange said. "But ask yourself, how much of a part are emotions supposed to play?"

That question, Levi couldn't answer. Somehow, that should have been something someone a little more experienced like Hange should have answered for him. Instead, she kept quiet, her eyes looking straight ahead, but she blinked a little faster the next few times as if she was struggling with something he couldn't see.

It could have been uncharacteristic. It was an odd set of emotions to play with but Levi was suddenly more and more compelled to break the silence himself. With nothing much else to say, he let his emotions speak for him. "If I were a little cold before, I didn't mean that."

"No offense taken," Hange grinned at him knowingly. "You seem tense." She was studying him for that glimmer of a second before she started to fiddle with her phone with her free hand. "I have the audiobook for Pride and Prejudice. You wanna listen?"

***

"They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with some abruptness wound.

"This is supposed to be my Pemberley," Hange said. She had been hyping it up since a while ago that it seemed almost anticlimactic then. With the tone Hange was giving, he was sure she had been a little disappointed too. "Believe me, it looks nicer on good days," she added.

It had been a good day until a while ago. He could have sworn the sky had been blue for at least half the trip. Grey clouds were a strange things, part of the clouds were grey from afar but never looked too menacing until they was looming directly above them. Only when it was nearer did it have the tendency to just blanket everything in a very dull and unbearable grey.

Any color would look grey with the right level of dimness. He wondered for a while longer why Hange was still continuing the trek. The longer they walked, the farther they got from the car.

Levi’s worry, his nervousness only increased threefold, fourfold then he lost count. After all, they had stopped on what could have been the middle of nowhere. He couldn't tell where they were. Any inkling of sense laid out in front of them was in the form of a dirt road, just stretched out from the freeway with no buildings for miles, no pit stops.

And if it actually started to rain? Levi imagined it for a second before shaking his head. He tried to focus on other things like the ease of walking, his manageable energy levels.

The meagre late lunch of a drive-through burger meal was more than enough for a quick hike. Levi found himself pondering whether energy should have even been expended for something so grey.

The color grey just didn't seem worth the hike to see. "Why are we here?" Levi asked.

"Let's just stay long enough to climb the hill." Hange seemed persistent. Her back was on him and he couldn't tell the face she was making then. “It might look better on the other side.”

They were near enough at least that Levi had to crane his neck to see the top and he consoled himself. Maybe it was worth the hike. Maybe Hange was more privy to weather patterns and she at least calculated the quick hike and the awe that it would be worth.

Then Levi reminded himself, it was her birthday. Whether it did leave him as in awe as she was was irrelevant. That was a consolation Hange afforded herself. He was merely a companion. There should be things to get out of the conversation at least. “Tell me about your Pemberley,” Levi said.

“You’re gonna continue reading right? Do you really want to know?” Hange asked, seeming suddenly careful with her words.

After spoiling me the rest of the way? Levi would have wanted to ask.

“You seemed invested,” Hange said. It was a sufficient answer to his silent question. “I’d rather you read it on your own. Especially the part about Pemberley and the scene in Rosing’s.”

“Why? After spoiling me this much?” His abrasiveness, the irritation had made his legs lighten under him and he moved a little faster catching up to Hange.

Hange seemed concentrated, looking ahead, not hesitating even as the incline presented itself right in front of them. It was getting steeper and Levi felt it as an ache in his legs as he climbed but Hange, admirably or begrudgingly, seemed unfazed

Levi was a few inches shorter and maybe he was at a disadvantage. He didn’t have the same investment either but he stepped forward, going at the steeper incline with wider strides while maintaining speed. He looked to Hange who was right next to him. She continued to look ahead, she craned her head back, her hastily tied hair fell behind her and she was whispering something.

If Hange hadn’t seemed hypnotized yet disturbed, if the fat cold droplets didn’t settle on his arms, getting stronger and more numerous by the second, maybe he would have let her climb and climb. He would have obediently followed behind.

It had been everything at once. Maybe confusion at everything had been that one final nail on the coffin. Irritation welled quickly, then anger. Hange hadn’t been speaking in any straightforward manner for a while already so he forced it out of her.

“Why the hell does Pemberley mean so much to you?” Levi raised his voice. Just in case that hadn’t been enough, hell, that had actually been enough, he pulled her from behind.

The rain accumulated on the dirt road quickly and when Hange turned to answer, she fell backward rapidly. Right on top of him.

It was a quick and terrifying sequence or movements, Levi found himself sandwiched, Hange in front of him, his behind buried in mud and dirt, blades of grass were brushing heavily past him. But he didn't stop.

They didn't stop. Gravity had them moving down, naturally quickly and violently down the steep incline and Levi could only be thankful that the grass had been kind, absent of anything that could have snagged at any part them.

A few long seconds later, by some miracle, they were unharmed, still very much alive.

It didn’t change the fact that at the bottom, they were both fucking dirty. And he was a little--- scratch that--- very rattled. And Hange was on top of him, her hair clung close to her, her glasses had fallen to her mouth and she seemed just a little disconcerted.

Hange pushed herself up. “I’m sorry, are you okay?” She put one hand on his cheek, one filthy hand.

Instinctively, Levi pushed it away. She was disgusting. They were both disgusting. He could taste a hint of dirt at his lips and he closed his nose and shut his mouth before he could taste anymore.

It was disgusting. And in that state, he was recalling how pleasant almost drowning seemed when he was covered in mud, the rain only continued to pour. He would rather have been drinking salt water then.

When he noticed that a minute passed under the rain, he started to observe then search for signs on how Hange might have been feeling. They had left their phones in the car. He was thankful they weren’t casualties but he was a little regretful that he couldn’t read her then.

Purple. He made a guess. That was the only reading she had given then. Sad angry? Or angry sad?

But when he looked for sadness, angriness, he saw it in those wide eyes in the red just under her eyes. Or he could have been projecting. It could have also been a placebo affect.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I got so fucking worked up over this. Let's go back." Hange's voice was stilted, alarmingly cold.

"You've done this before right?"

The rain wasn't stopping anytime soon. In fact, it came down hard and Levi could have felt like he was drowning again.

The storm had proven to be a worse adversary. The wind was almost as menacing as waves.

He struggled to his feet. Hange had held out her hand, wrapped one arm around his shoulder and standing up became a small feat.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hange asked again, her voice a whisper that brushed at his neck. She was close enough to even overwhelm the pouring rain just outside their small bubble.

He hadn't answered her earlier. He didn't even know how she had been able to get the message to him in spite of the wind blowing at their face, the thunder and the patter of the rain on the dirt road.

When they were close enough, shoulders and arms touching, her lips almost brushing against his ear. He thought it close enough that she would probably hear if he whispered. Maybe it was worth just opening his mouth to speak. Two words or maybe four. Just long enough so she won’t have to speak again the whole trek back to the car.

“Let’s just go back.”

***

Adrenaline, exhaustion and the shaken state eventually gave way to irritation once again.

It was a slow process but Hange was silent. She had been driving much slower and with the peace, the slow rhythm of the whirring of the car, Levi had time and space to contemplate.

Levi was contemplating the expenses of cleaning a rented car. When the mud started to dry and harden, when they caked at his skin, they only aggravated the at first, silent irritation. It was silent but it was irritating altogether. He angrily wiped his hands on the dashboard of the car, and reached for his phone next to the clutch.

“Levi, I can pay for cleaning up the car," Hange said.

Levi kept quiet. For one, he didn’t want to entertain the idea of making her pay for all of it. A part of him though, the stingy part, would have rather she did.

“Levi, are you angry at me?” Hange asked a minute later.

And that phrase always had that magic of making most people angrier than they were already. Levi was no exception.

Still, he did try to be just a little nicer. “You’re driving aimlessly on the road. We’re a mess in the car. We’re both covered in mud, my legs and my arms hurt. Hange, think.”

“Think?”

“Who wouldn’t be at least a little angry?” His tone betrayed his words. Hange had been responding in questions since a while ago and it only served to further aggravate it.

“I told you, I’m sorry.” She did say 'sorry' a while ago but he wasn't in the mood to accept it then. So it slipped his mind.

“Well, finally you’re being more direct but you know, it would have been helpful if you’ve been more open since a while ago.”

“More open about what?”

Levi smacked his hand on the dashboard. “There you are again, you ask questions but you never fucking answer. And if you answer you’re fucking vague, or you fucking digress.”

“Any... question you wanna ask?” Hange asked hesitantly.

“Why does Pemberley mean so much to you? Why does this damn book mean so much to you? You’re a scientist, a researcher. Why are you getting so worked up over a fucking social commentary?”

Hange gave him a wounded look, and she stared for a long time. Levi only noticed then, that that had been the longest stare she had been giving him in a while. The fiasco of a while ago was enough of an evidence that Hange did get worked up over it and Levi held it like a memento, just in case Hange decided to play oblivious.

She didn’t. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I got emotional.” But she still wasn’t answering questions.

“Why does Pemberley mean so much to you?” Levi asked again. He kept this voice hard, stone cold and firm. He enunciated every syllable and every word like they were separate from one another.

Hange avoided his gaze. “Well, I really like the relationship between Elizabeth and Darcy---”

“Why do you like it so much?”

“It’s because I would have wanted the same for myself---”

“Would have?” And Levi caught it, two words that had hovered in the air for a second.

Hange clamped her mouth shut.

“Would have?” Levi repeated again in the silence. And the irritation, the discomfort and the fury from being caked from head to toe with semi dried mud had somehow been released with two words.

“I have the same for myself,” Hange clarified.

“Would?”

“It’s a slip of the tongue,” Hange said. She didn’t look back and it didn’t look like she would be prodding that topic anymore.

So Levi brought up another question. “What about Elizabeth and Darcy’s relationship do you like?”

“It’s... “ Hange was hesitating. “It’s in the small details…” She seemed more concentrated on the road ahead of her.

“Go on.” Levi gripped on the seat cushion underneath him. Somehow, the car was starting to move in time to the patter of the rain.

“You might even think I’m crazy for looking at them…” Hange continued.

“But…” Levi turned to Hange, he looked closely as her lips parted as if she was about to say something.

Then her voice filled the cramped space inside the car for only a split second, before the squeak of tires, the spray of water and the burst of sensations that came with the dizzying experience of his body lurching forward in his seat.

For a second, Levi could have sworn he was dead.

***

They weren’t the only ones who decided to call it a day. It turned out there were numerous people who had been wandering around that side of the country and it looked like that particular motel had been the only one for miles around.

The first warning should have been the fact that it had taken Levi and Hange minutes to navigate a pretty small parking lot, just to find a place to fit the car. The second warning should have been the amount of lit up windows.

At that point, they were both exhausted and Levi had focused too clearly on the ‘open’ sign.

Open 24 hours.

So he didn’t waste any time. Hange didn’t either. It was cold, it was raining and Levi could forget that it was too early in September for him to have been shivering, for white fog to be accompanying his shuddering breath.

It was his first time up north, autumn came much earlier. That didn’t stop him from grumbling silently about why autumn rains had to be so cruel.

It was barely even autumn. Shitting on the weather proved to be an adequate consolation for their very uncomfortable state.

Hange seemed unsure and maybe she had heard his grumbles, maybe she had assumed it was about her. “I’ll check if they have any rooms,” Hange said, an apologetic smile on her face. She looked down towards his elbow. “And I’ll ask for a first aid kit, so we could do something about that.”

His body had been a conglomeration of discomforts since a while ago and the bleeding scrape on his elbow had been a terrible surprise. Not so terrible actually as he looked closer, he barely even felt it.

Before he could stop her, Hange had went ahead to the reception, covered in mud and all. Levi was grateful at least that they both had cleaned their shoes on the way in. The headache would be left to whoever would be cleaning their car.

The man at the counter was apologetic, a little too nice and he spoke to Hange like he was talking to some higher figure. It was a simple back and forth.

They were guests, he worked in hospitality. It was a natural exchange.

Maybe Levi had just been a little perceptive because everyone seemed to approach Hange with some unique form of respect. After a brief back and forth, Hange turned back to Levi, a flash of uncertainty on her face.

Just a flash. Before Levi could perceive more, it disappeared.

Levi still saw that as a cue to follow behind. “What?”

“So there is only one room left, towards the back...” Hange started.

“Apologies about this…” The receptionist bowed his head. “The roads get slippery… And it’s dangerous to go out so many people….” He was babbling at that point and all Levi wanted him to do was get to the point.

Hange let out a sigh then dropped her credit card on the table. “We’ll take it.”

“You managed to get a room, why is he apologizing?” Levi asked, turning to the comparably more coherent Hange Zoe.

“Well, there’s only one room left,” Hange responded.

“And?”

“There’s only one bed.” Hange had said that part with a straight face. She huffed and put one muddy finger up in front of him. “But you know, I really think we can make this work...”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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piracytheorist · 3 years

Text

A Kiss for Good Luck (16/16) [Epilogue]

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 1.4k (51k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Epilogue: Six months later

“Oh, sugar!”

Killian smiles at Nemo's euphemism, despite the sauce currently staining his pants. Emma quickly grabs a towel and pats it over the stain, as Nemo runs to bring a wet one.

“It's okay, Nemo. It's not that much.”

“Sorry, son.”

“Come sit down, dad,” Tink says impatiently. “We're all waiting for you.”

“It's a holiday, can I have some time to take care of my family?” Nemo says back, but throws a wink at Tink as he gives Killian the wet towel.

“Even when it's the two of us, sometimes papa takes forever to sit down at the table,” Alice comments, fork already in hand.

“Exactly!” Will says with mock exasperation. “We don't need all the fanfare, dads, we just want to eat!”

“Fine,” Nemo says, finally sitting down. “Let's eat.”

Conversation flows easily, as a Christmas playlist makes the atmosphere even more cheerful; it's a far cry from the lonely, bland Christmas Emma had last year, with her only consolation being pop-tarts and a chat with Killian.

She can't find any pop-tarts here, but Killian's company more than makes up for it. He didn't need to secretly promise her she'd never have to celebrate alone again, but he did and somehow it's all working out. The bad luck they were left with has not been enough to ruin any plans.

“So you're flying to Stockholm in three days?” Rogers asks.

“Yeah, we'll be changing the year with my family there,” Emma says. “It's a closer trip from here than from Boston.” And less lonely.

“Does it get cold up there?” Alice asks.

“Oof,” Emma says. “Very. But if we're lucky, we'll go even further north and get to see the northern lights. That alone is fully worth the cold.”

Killian turns to her and smiles warmly; being with her as he gets to know the important people in her life would be worth all the cold in the world.

He looks around the table, impatient as he is to finish eating so he can hold Emma's hand. Nemo and Shakespeare grew quite close to Rogers during his rehabilitation, as they would drive Alice to the hospital every day to see him. It was a busy summer, what with the extra work due to Shakespeare's errands, tourist season and Emma moving in with him.

At first, it was difficult not to point out every single, tiny setback, like packages getting lost only to be found a week later, food – though only food – getting burned, stepping on dog poop, catching all the red lights, or having bad WiFi at times.

However, those were as bad as it's gotten, for the first time they've had each other to sympathize with, and the sight of a happy Alice and her healthy father is more than enough to make up for the small shows of bad luck. It's become easy, getting used to it.

Maybe they're so unaccustomed to having normal luck that any tiny hint of bad fortune sticks out, Emma said once. All it does, however, is simply get slightly annoying, a grand contrast to the worst luck they've had, and it's worth it knowing that they are free to kiss without fearing they've stolen the other's luck.

It's now where Fate intended it to be; on Alice's side.

Emma sits aside as Alice and Killian get lost in the astronomy book Nemo got her as a Christmas gift, and Rogers approaches her.

“May I?” he says, pointing at the seat next to her.

She nods. Being the one in the house who's had the fewest conversations with Rogers, she's still unused to just how much he looks like Killian. And just like every other time, a wave of happiness washes through her at the thought of still being with Killian at the time he'll have as many grey hair and wrinkles.

“Can I ask you something?” Rogers says. At her nod, he says, “Is it hard? Having family that far away?”

“It's closer now,” Emma says. “When you have good company where you are, it can feel like it's not that bad...” She winces slightly. “But when it's a holiday or something, and you talk to them and they're telling you they're all gathered together, and you're alone in your apartment eating take-out...”

“I don't mean to sound glum in such a day, but my incident last summer brought over some worries. Alice will be alone if something happens to me.”

Emma highly doubts anything will happen to him, but it would take a very long explanation for him to believe it and feel relief.

“I'm starting to think she won't,” she says, looking back at Alice and Killian, still lost over the book as Shakespeare joins them.

“So, it's been easier? Since you moved in here? I mean, when it comes to the distance from your family.”

“They've been very welcoming. They're a found family, you know? It's kind of a part of them to welcome anyone who's looking for support.” She turns back to him. “You shouldn't think like that, you know.”

“Alice is my responsibility. I ought to make sure she'll be taken care of if something happens.”

She smiles. “You're a good dad.”

He laughs lightly. “You think so? Sometimes I feel that my whole life is one part my job and two parts Alice.” He looks at his daughter, an indescribable smile spreading on his lips. “I don't know who I'd be without her.”

“Look, I don't know the others much more than the two of you do. In fact, Alice has stayed in this house longer. But we're all here, celebrating. You're already invited for New Year's Eve here, right?”

“Yeah. Nemo and John have been very kind.”

“And you wanted an outsider's opinion,” Emma says with a knowing smile.

“It's just... I don't want her to be alone, you know?”

She does, in a way. At first she was terrified to tell Ingrid she was moving continents for a guy she only knew for less than a year, but Ingrid's response was that she was happy that Emma was being welcomed into a family. Being deported made so painfully obvious how Ingrid was all Emma had in the beginning. She would never oppose her finding more people to lean on. And she's now excited to meet Killian, as is he to meet her.

“She won't be,” Emma says finally. “They're good people. But I have a good feeling it won't come down to them.”

Rogers smiles at her, somehow looking relieved. Maybe he believes her.

It's two days later and Killian is packing the warmest clothes he's ever bought.

“I can't wait to look like an onion,” he jokes.

Emma smiles lazily from the bed, her suitcase still undone. “You'll be the handsomest onion I've ever seen.”

“Do you think we should tell Ingrid about the luck thing?”

Emma's face grows serious. “Does it matter?”

Killian puts his clothes down and sits on the bed next to her. “I know that she's important to you. It was a great relief for me, to tell Nemo and him believing me. I thought you should have that too, if you want to share it with her.”

She gives him a tearful smile and gets up to embrace him. “I mean, it won't change anything, right? We gave it away,” she says.

“Aye. But it might mean a lot to you to be open about it with her. It has kind of shaped us both.”

She sniffles and leans back to look into his eyes. “Perhaps we might need to explain why we won't get to see the northern lights even when the weather forecast says clear skies.”

“You think we'll be that unlucky?” He raises an eyebrow playfully.

She smiles.

He gives her a quick kiss. “Even if we are, I think Lady Luck may smile upon us on one of our next trips there. I'll get to see those damn lights.”

She kisses him back. The promise of going there again with him, and more than once, fills her heart with joy.

Their bad luck hasn't mattered these past months. It hasn't been enough to interfere with their lives, their jobs, their closest people. They've been enough, and their lives have taught them to be content with the love and care from others, and each other. They've been happy.

And it's all they'll ever need.

A/N: All things must come to an end! This marks the completion of my first “normal” (as in, actually having a plot) multi-chapter fanfic, and it still hasn’t registered. I want to thank everyone who has commented and supported this story, and in advance, everyone who will in the future. I’m happy, and sad, in a way, to see that people stuck with this story and let it break their hearts before finally reaching the fluffy ending that was promised at the start. I hope the conclusion made all the angst worth it!

Thank you, again. Your support has meant so much ❤️

#Emma Swan #Killian Jones #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #piracytheorist writes

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innittowinit · 4 years

Text

Runaways and waiting rooms

Relationships: PLATONIC, Tommy and wilbur

Summary: Tommy has been feeling overwhelmed lately and decides to run away and find Wilbur instead.

Warnings: for like one line where Tommy is talking about how he feels, he mentions not being able to eat. It's literally only for one line though and if you skip it it will make no difference

Word count: 2385

Language: English

AO3

Tommy held his breath as he shoved a pair of thick socks into his backpack. He couldn't believe he was doing this; running away was always something he saw in movies. It was a big thing that would definitely be exciting and freeing but logically he knew it would most likely just be lonely and scary. School had been over this countless times, if you feel bad you need to go to a trusted adult.

That had been drilled into his mind since he was little. So why did the only adults he trusted lived so far away?

He wasn’t actually running away, he told himself this again and again. If he was running away, which he wasn't, he’d be a lot angrier, he’d probably have gotten into a fight with his parents.

This wasn’t running away. This was just leaving without letting anyone know.

Next was a fleece blanket, rolled it up as tight as he could to make it to save room; he still didn't know if Wilbur would even let him stay with him. Asking him now felt so overwhelming. It felt like giving up, Wilbur would definitely try to convince him not to leave home.

With a rough throat and a note left scribbled on his desk, he crept out of the front door. Realistically he knew he could make it on his own, he had a stable income and with his laptop in his bag he knew he'd be able to stream, even if the quality had to be lowered slightly to keep the frames smooth. Hopefully Wilbur's place had good wifi.

As he walked towards the train station, he thought about why he had chosen Wilbur, Tubbo was closer, much closer, but there was just something about the man that made him feel safer than he did at home right now.

Maybe it was the big brother vibes, maybe he just didn't want to inconvenience Tubbo’s family. God he hoped he wasn't going to be turned away.

Wilbur had his own life.

what if he wanted to have a girl over or something? it would be so awkward to have a 16 year old in the other room.

Maybe it would be best if he turned around and went back home.

No. He told himself, the word spinning around in his head as he made his way to the train station. Absolutely, Positively, giving up now would be the wrong thing to do. He had to do this, It would hurt being away from his family and friends but things were just too much right now. He needed an escape.

Wilbur would give him that escape. He hoped so at least.

As he made his way to the station, bag slung over one shoulder, he contemplated his reasons for doing this.

There was too much pressure. That was it. He was expected to do so much and there was such a fine line between being proud and putting pressure on someone.

How could he be expected to average 100k viewers, bring in excess money, get amazing grades and still have time for family situations?

His reasoning was pathetic, he knew that much, but he didn’t plan to stay gone forever. He just wanted a break, some time to think. He wanted the world to stop spinning for one second so he could catch his breath.

That’s why he was going to Wilbur. Wilbur understood these feelings, nobody else did. He loved his parents but they didn’t understand the pressure of having so many people watch your every move. He just needed some alone time.

Before he knew it, he was standing on his platform, anxiously pressing the button to open the train’s door, climbing on with shaky legs.

This was real. He was doing this. There was no turning back now

Sitting down in a corner and pulling up his hood, he prayed that he wouldn’t get noticed. God that would be mortifying, to have his fans see him now, at his absolute lowest point, where he felt so worthless and tired.

Not only that but he was sure that the photo would spread like wildfire as evidence he had ran away once the news broke out that he wasn’t at home.

Much to his delight, the carriage was fairly empty, spare a few elderly couples and a couple mothers with young children. He doubted any of them knew who he was so he just leant back in his seat and plugged his earphones in, setting his playlist on shuffle. There were some songs that reminded him of his friends back at college.

They wouldn’t be mad at him for going missing right?

He pierced his lips together and tried not to think about it.

Nobody would be mad.

Nobody would even notice that he was gone.

___

The train ride didn’t feel as long as he had expected. After checking his phone he knew that yes, it completely had taken the few hours that he had expected but he supposed he had more to think about than he had expected too.

After leaving the train he was faced with the crisp evening air, it was windy and the clouds darkened in a way that he could tell meant it would rain soon.

Not only that, but he was also faced with the harsh reality that he didn’t know how to get to Wilbur’s house, he didn’t even know his address so it wasn’t as if he could just call an uber.

It was cold and nearing night and he was in a city he didn’t recognise.

Why the fuck had he done this?

Trying to clear his head, he made his way to the waiting room. It would be warm in there, he’d be able to calm down.

And he was right, it was warm, and the chairs were soft and perfect for thinking things over in.

He eventually came to the decision that he needed to tell Wilbur what he had done, he was scared and lost but Wilbur would help him.

Before he could convince himself otherwise he pressed on Wilbur's contact and watched it ring.

“Tommy Innit! How are you doing my friend? Me and techno are actually on the smp right now if you want to join us” He was laughing, there’s no way he would answer a call like this if he wasn’t streaming.

Shit fuck.

“Sorry, sorry” The boy shook his head although Wilbur couldn’t see it, he had to fix this, he never should have left home; No matter how pathetic he felt there.

“Sorry I… I don’t know why I called you. Uh fuck.. I forgot you were um….I didn’t see the time shit you always start at this time. I’m sorry”

“Tommy?” Wil sounded a lot more mellowed out, Wow Tommy, you really went and made him worry about you.

“Tommy I muted my stream, are you okay?”

“Wil…” His voice was weak, he sounded small and fragile. His throat hurt and his eyes burned.

What he absolutely was not about to do was cry in a train station waiting room.

“Wil I’m sorry this is stupid” An audible sigh had escaped from his lips, he hadn’t meant that to happen.

“Go back to your stream I’ll be okay”

“Tommy you matter to me okay? If you need someone to talk to I’ll stay on call for as long as you need, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about my stream if you need me, okay?”

That was what broke the dam, a flood pouring out from his eyes as he clutched his phone against his head. He had never been much good at talking about his emotions, this exact situation of breaking down all at once happened far too frequently because of his horrible habit of bottling up his emotions.

He didn’t feel strong when he asked for help.

“Wilbur, please promise not to get mad, please promise not to get mad or tell my parents. Please dont tell my parents Wil” The boy frantically rubbed at his eye’s with his sleeve as he begged pointlessly over the phone. He felt so pathetic. Wilbur would never want to talk to him ever again. Of course he was only doing this out of pity, Wil saw him as a needy child. He was certain of it.

“Tommy? Tommy whats wrong? I won't tell your parents if you don't want me to and I could never be genuinely mad with you. Tommy please tell me what’s happening” His voice sounded pained.

Strange, Tommy thought. It was strange since he was so sure that Wilbur didn’t actually care about him.

He felt worthless, there was too much going on all the time and if he couldn't keep up with it that meant he was the one who was broken.

“Wil” he sniffled. Pathetic “Wil I left home, I didn’t tell anyone, I got on a train and I came here.” he took in a deep breath. God he would die if a fan ran into him now, he was so lucky this waiting room was empty.

“Wil, it felt like you were the only one who would listen to me, it’s too much it’s all too much. Nowhere feels like home anymore, I want to go home but nowhere is home”

Wilbur had taken in a deep breath, Tommy wondered what his chat was saying.

“I’m coming to get you. Sit tight for me. I’m taking you back to my house and we can talk more. I can’t call when I’m driving so will you be okay in the meantime?”

Tommy nodded, remembering once again that Wilbur couldn’t see him. Instead of vocalising his feelings once more, he made a small sound of confirmation.

“Okay stay safe, I’ll be there soon”

And he was there soon, maybe Tommy should have expected it, he had got the train straight into his city after all. It was less than 5 minutes later when he had got a text telling him to come outside.

“Didn’t expect you here for another while, in all honesty” The man chuckled as Tommy got into his car, starting to drive off once he was buckled in.

“Do you want a hot chocolate? You know, whenever I feel bad I like sweet things”

Tommy didn’t answer verbally but he did nod. He felt too broken, too guilty, to talk. He knew words would just start flowing out and he couldn’t risk opening himself up again. He didn’t want Wilbur to decide he didn’t want to talk to him anymore. He didn’t want to be alone again.

Aside from the stop at starbucks, where Wil had bought them both some Hot chocolate, the ride was silent. Filled only by the quiet noise of the radio and the frequent sips of their drinks. Wil had tried to ask him some questions but Tommy just shook his head.

He liked that Wil wouldn’t force him to talk when he wasn’t ready. Wil trusted that he’d talk eventually.

Last time he was at his house he had been so happy, he remembered how many things had happened in such a short amount of time during that meetup. He wished he was still as happy now but as Wil carried his bag inside for him, he couldn't help but be reminded of how much of a burden he was.

The bag had been laid on the floor and Wilbur was sitting on the couch, drink in hand, so Tommy sat down too and mimicked his body language.

“What’s going on then? Are we ready to talk about it” The older of the too hummed, he really was like an older brother, Tommy thought to himself as he watched Wilbur’s soft expression.

Tommy nodded.

He just needed to collect his thoughts first.

“Have you ever felt like you’re drowning even when there’s no water? I keep thinking ‘I want to go home soon’ but I’ll already be at home. There’s so much going on, during the few minutes i get to myself i always end up daydreaming about how nice it would be to pause time and catch my breath”

Even though he felt like he was rambling, like he made no sense at all, Wil carried on nodding. He was listening so intently that Tommy felt a little guilty for not telling him about how he felt sooner.

“I feel like..maybe if I can't swim back up when I'm drowning, I'm just failing. I can’t remember what it feels like to not feel like I’m disappointing everyone I care about, I always feel cold and I keep struggling to eat. When it’s not because I’m too busy it’s because I feel like i don't deserve it, I always feel like I should be working and when I’m not I feel pathetic and weak”

Wilbur didn’t speak for a few seconds, then he placed his and Tommy’s drinks on a little table and pulled the blonde into a big hug. Tommy was surprised to say the least. He had fully expected Wilbur to get mad, maybe yell, but he hadn’t.

“I’ve felt that way so many times Tommy and I’ll tell you this much” he sighed and rubbed the boys back “It fucking sucks. But I’ll also tell you this, You’re not disappointing anyone, everyone is actually very proud of you but you need to realise that that pride won't go away if you take a break”

A little hiccup could be heard from where Tommy’s head was snuggled into. He wasn't crying though. Tommy innit would never.

“You can stay here for as long as you need, i know you just need a break from your life...and I won't tell your parents but I do think you should talk to them. I know you probably don’t want t hear this but they’ll be worried sick and i guarantee they’ll be happier to hear that you’re safe rather than kidnapped”

And so Tommy spent the next few days with Wilbur. He called his parents and explained how he felt, with Wilbur’s help, and he took a small break from social media.

And if he fell asleep leaning against Wilbur’s shoulder more than once, that didn’t need to be brought up again.

#tommyinnit #tommy innit #mcyt #sleepyblr #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #fanfic #hurt/ comfort #emotional hurt/ comfort #dream smp

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stephissalty · 4 years

Text

you still wear my jacket

Pairing: Iwaoi

Rating: T

Warnings: Language

Words: 6000

Summary: "Iwaizumi wasn’t one to believe in fate, but he could believe that there was some very, very cruel intervention that put Oikawa Tooru on the same plane, to the same destination, in the seat next to him, three years nearly to the day since the last time he’d seen him."

AO3

Part 2 - AO3

you still wear my jacket

Iwaizumi Hajime receives a text from his supervisor ten minutes before he’s set to board a plane to London.

Received, 19:04: enjoy your trip. don’t forget to turn off your phone

Received, 19:04: you need the time off

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and sends an affirmative response before tucking his phone back in his pocket. He knew he was very much in need of a break. For the past three months, he had been working twelve-plus hour days, and his team had been working nearly as many. The project his supervisor had assigned to Iwaizumi’s group was interesting, at least: the coding division was to design and perfect a code to a new kind of robot, to be used in conjunction with other existing technology that the company was working on, and compatible with several different kinds of software. Iwaizumi enjoyed his job as a team leader - he’d been offered the position after holding an internship with a sister company while in university - but these past few weeks had been wearing him down, and he was ready to collapse.

His supervisor had suggested that he take a week off and get out of Japan - visit somewhere far away, somewhere he’d never been before for a change of scenery. And he was doing just that.

But even so, he still feels the weight of his laptop in his backpack, and his work phone in one of his pockets buzzes with another text. After this text, I’ll turn it off.

Received, 19:07: Iwaizumi-san, enjoy your trip

The text is from one of his interns, a university student named Kunimi. Even my interns are telling me to enjoy my trip. Have I been overworking that much?

He doesn’t turn off his phone.

He turns his boarding pass over in his hands, fidgeting slightly with the edges of the slick paper. For the millionth time, he reads over his boarding group, which reads BSNS CLASS, and then verifies it is his name at the top of the pass. Indeed, IWAIZUMI HAJIME is printed at the top of the paper along with all of the other flight details. He’s still in awe that he has the privilege to fly Business Class, something that is because of his hearty bonus that came in a few weeks ago. This whole trip was a treat to himself, but the tickets were a splurge.

“We are now welcoming Business Class. Business Class, welcome aboard.”

Iwaizumi makes his way towards the line forming, stepping behind well-dressed men in suits carrying briefcases and women carrying designer purses. At twenty-five years old and dressed in sweats and an old Aoba Johsai jacket, he feels slightly out of place. He puts his discomfort aside as he approaches the desk, where the attendant scans his ticket, and he enters the boarding bridge.

A few minutes later, he’s settled into his seat, 2B. The window seat to his left is still empty as he fishes his headphones and charging cord out of his backpack before stowing it away in the overhead.

It’s several minutes later, and as Iwaizumi is starting to be hopeful that he may have the row to himself that he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Sorry, can I get -” as Iwaizumi looks up, the person speaking abruptly cuts off in surprise. “Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi blinks a few times, trying to register the sight in front of him. Standing in the aisle in front of him is none other than Oikawa Tooru. He’s older than the last time he saw him, but he’s definitely Oikawa. His immaculate hair is slightly longer than it was last time, and he looks a little taller, but that might be Iwaizumi’s angle. He’s dressed in a dark shirt under a white jacket with aqua trim and dark sweatpants, and to finish off the ensemble is a head donut around his neck.

“Oikawa.”

“Uh -” For one of the first times that Iwaizumi can recall, Oikawa seems to be out of words. “Looks like I’m sitting next to you. If you want, I can try to request a seat change or -”

“It’s fine. You’re holding up the line. Get in,” Iwaizumi grunts and grits his teeth.

“Right, right.”

Iwaizumi draws up his knees to allow Oikawa to pass, trying not to flinch at the moment of contact.

They sit in silence for a while as the rest of the plane boards, allowing Iwaizumi the distraction to put in his headphones and turn on music, loud enough to try to forget that Oikawa Tooru is sitting next to him. He subtly scoots towards the aisle and pulls his left elbow towards his body, vehemently ignoring the heat emitting from the body next to him.

What are the chances?

Iwaizumi wasn’t one to believe in fate, but he could believe that there was some very, very cruel intervention that put Oikawa Tooru on the same plane, to the same destination, in the seat next to him, three years nearly to the day since the last time he’d seen him.

Three years is a long time.

“Welcome aboard flight 0104, service to London Heathrow. I’m Sawamura, and I’m joined by Azumane, and we’ll be your flight crew for today’s flight. If you’ll direct your attention to your seat-back screens for the safety presentation please…”

The plane pushes back from the gate and begins taxiing towards the runway. Begin a flight from hell.

“Iwa-chan?”

He whips his head to Oikawa and removes one earbud. “Don’t call me that.”

“Iwaizumi...san.” Oikawa has a strange look on his face, as if the name tastes strange in his mouth, which he supposes it probably does.

“What?”

“Is it time now?” The question is vague, but the meaning is clear as day.

“We have been cleared for takeoff. Secure your seatbacks and tray tables in their upright and locked positions. Flight attendants, prepare the cabin for takeoff.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond, just puts his earbud back in and raises the volume even higher, to a nearly painful level.

The engines ready for takeoff, Iwaizumi looks to the window as the plane accelerates. He can see, even though the other is faced away from him, the sparkle in Oikawa’s eyes, even before leaving the ground. Once the wheels leave the ground, the city starts shrinking to a grid of yellow lights and soft neons and moving headlights. From Iwaizumi’s vantage point, he doesn’t have the best view, but Oikawa does, and Oikawa, although he’s definitely been on planes countless times, seems captivated by the city getting smaller and the sky getting more vast, getting closer to the soft clouds.

Oikawa’s always loved planes.

Iwaizumi knows that better than anyone. Oikawa’s the reason why Iwaizumi loves flying.

Once they reach ten thousand feet, Iwaizumi immediately connects his work phone to the wifi to check his messages, and, sure enough, in the Oikawa commotion, he’d forgotten to check it before takeoff. He had several messages from another one of his hard-working interns, Kindaichi.

Received 19:15: I got section 44 to compile!

Received 19:15: Yahaba-san will look over it tomorrow

Received 19:15: I’m going to start on 45

Received 19:16: You shouldn’t be doing work on vacation tho

Received 19:16: Have fun, Iwaizumi-san!

Not for the first time, he is exceedingly grateful for his dedicated interns, working even at seven in the evening.

Delivered 19:55: Thank you for your hard work.

Delivered 19:55: Don’t work too late.

He receives an immediate response.

Received 19:55: The same for you!

Delivered 19:56: Thank you.

Although everyone has told him to turn off his phone, he can’t bring himself to. He can’t bear the thought that one of his subordinates could need his help during the time that he’s in the air - after all, it’s a thirteen hour flight. A voice tries to reason that they shouldn’t be working at this time anyways, but it ultimately loses.

“As hardworking as ever,” Oikawa says, somehow catching a quiet moment in one of Iwaizumi’s songs, so his voice cuts through. Iwaizumi thinks he hears a twinge of anger in the word ‘hardworking’. He doesn’t want to think about why.

He returns his attention to his seatmate and wrenches out one earbud. “Huh?”

“You were just messaging work, no? Always a hardworker, Iwa-chan.”

“Were you reading over my shoulder?” Iwaizumi asks incredulously, ignoring the second half of what Oikawa said. He’s trying to rile Iwaizumi up, and he knows it.

“It’s not my fault if you have your brightness so high and your font so big that someone in space could read your texts.” Oikawa flashes a shit-eating, dazzling grin.

Don’t fall for it don’t fall for it don’t fall for it. “I swear -”

“Are you still at the tech company? Code monkey?”

Iwaizumi tries to rein in his temper. “I’m a team leader for the coding division, and, yes, I’m still with the same company. How about you, space boy?”

“I’m a project leader for a classified project at an aerospace firm in Tokyo,” Oikawa says, nose in the air.

Iwaizumi nods, ready to go back to his music, but clearly Oikawa has other plans.

“Iwa-chan! Tell me about your life.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Please.”

His eyes are pleading, and Iwaizumi almost breaks there. But then he remembers.

“No. Now, I’m going to take a nap. Is that okay with you, Oikawa?” he snaps. He actually isn’t tired at all and has trouble sleeping on planes, but dealing with Oikawa is too much for him today. He doesn’t wait until he gets an answer before turning away from Oikawa and burrowing slightly into the collar of his volleyball jacket that he still wears after all these years.

He doesn’t realize that Oikawa is also wearing his Aoba Johsai jacket.

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure when Oikawa really changed, but he thought it might’ve been when he missed the final ball in the last match against Karasuno in their third year of high school. After that game, he was never quite the same. There wasn’t another high school tournament to prepare for, and they were done playing for Seijoh. It marked the end of an era, in a way, and Iwaizumi figured Oikawa didn’t know how to handle it.

The end of third year was rough because of that. They still attended classes leading up to graduation, toured a few universities, applied to universities, got accepted to universities, dropped in on a few practices, but all of that was tinged with a grey cloud of sadness that both of them could feel.

Iwaizumi felt it all bubble up when they had to individually choose where they would be going to university.

One Friday night, they were sitting on Iwaizumi’s bedroom floor, two laptops open, and countless pamphlets and acceptance letters surrounding them as they each tried to decide where they’d attend for the coming year. Oikawa had been alarmingly quiet through the whole time Iwaizumi had been listing pros and cons of his personal top choices - two different schools in Tokyo and one closer to Sendai.

“What’s up?”

Oikawa kept his head down.

“Oikawa.”

He shook his head silently.

“Is the university talk upsetting you?”

He shrugged, still not looking up. His hair was flopped down, so his face was hidden from Iwaizumi’s view.

“You gotta talk to me.”

Oikawa very, very slowly raised his hand and gripped Iwaizumi’s wrist, pulling it toward himself. He still didn’t speak.

Iwaizumi thought he understood, though. “You don’t want to separate.”

Oikawa shook his head violently and hugged Iwaizumi tightly. He felt a wet patch forming on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around his friend.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, but it sounded like an empty promise to his own ears.

They sat there for a long time, Oikawa crying in Iwaizumi’s arms, as Iwaizumi tucked his face in Oikawa’s neck and tried not to cry as well.

I don’t want to leave him, either.

But I might have to.

The night of graduation, the two lay in silence on Iwaizumi’s bedroom floor. They’d already been to dinner with their families, already did photos, already took care of their prior commitments, They were free to just spend the evening together.

Oikawa had his head on Iwaizumi’s stomach, and their hands were intertwined over Iwaizumi’s chest. Even for them, it was very intimate, but they didn’t address it. The somber mood in the room was overbearing.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“Everything’s gonna change now, isn’t it?”

They’d decided to go to different universities in the same city. They were getting an apartment together. Even though they’d be on different volleyball teams, they’d still be together. That managed to nullify both of their fears of being apart.

“Things are going to change, but what’s never going to change is that you’re my best friend,” Iwaizumi replied quietly. He ordinarily wasn’t the type to say sentimental things out loud, but tonight was different.

Oikawa pulled their conjoined hands onto his own chest and squeezed tight. He shifted his head to look towards Iwaizumi. “Is that a promise?”

Iwaizumi looked down and met his gaze, eyes soft. “Of course.”

“Even if I say something stupid?”

“Always.”

Oikawa turned his gaze away, refocusing on the ceiling fan as he ran his thumb over the back of Iwaizumi’s hand. He exhaled, seemingly thinking through his next words very thoroughly, as if he were scared.

“You couldn’t say anything that would make me not want to be your best friend.”

“Even…” Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. “Even if I were to say I’m in love with you?” The end of the sentence sounded choked, and the squeezing of Iwaizumi’s hand was almost painful - he could physically feel Oikawa’s anxiety.

Iwaizumi used his free hand to run through Oikawa’s hair softly. A giddy smile played at his own lips, and his heartbeat sped up. “Yeah, even then. I love you, too.”

Iwaizumi isn’t sure how long it’s been when he wakes up.

Just in front of him, serving the first row, he sees the flight with carts for the first in-flight meal. Considering this, he assumes he’s been out for an hour or so.

He risks a glance at Oikawa, who he finds looking back at him.

Iwaizumi doesn’t want to - can’t - decipher what the emotion in his eyes is.

“What’s for dinner for you guys? We’ve got vegetarian lasagna and a chicken wrap,” the attendant who’d introduced himself as Sawamura asks.

“Lasagna,” they say in unison. Iwaizumi stiffens, but doesn’t look at Oikawa.

“Great, great,” Sawamura replies, as he grabs the meals and hands them out. “Azumane will be by in a minute for drinks.”

Indeed, Azumane was taking the first row’s drink order. Neither speaks until Azumane has handed them their drinks - Sprite for Oikawa, Coke for Iwaizumi.

“Don’t talk.”

“Iwa-chan -”

The tension snaps. Iwaizumi growls, “I just want to eat my dinner. I can’t deal with you, I can’t deal with this right now, I really can’t. Stop.”

Oikawa swallows slowly and averts his eyes. He draws his left leg up to his chest, careful not to knock the tray table, and hugs it as he peels back the foil on his meal. “I’m sorry, Iwa-chan.”

He sounds defeated.

Iwaizumi can’t take it. He puts headphones back in.

The first year of university passed fairly uneventfully. There were so many changes, of course, but there were no disasters of epic proportions that Iwaizumi and Oikawa couldn’t work through alright.

They quickly fell into a routine. Iwaizumi would get back to the apartment first because his university was slightly closer, and his classes ended a little earlier. He’d start on his homework, and Oikawa would arrive sometime not long after that. After finishing both of their homework - Iwaizumi was a very good influence to get Oikawa to stop procrastinating - they’d figure something for dinner - usually Iwaizumi cooking. And after dinner they’d settle down in the living room for a few hours.

They spent a lot of nights on the couch in their apartment, a tangled mess of limbs, Oikawa’s head on Iwaizumi’s chest. Usually they’d watch a TV show or movie as Iwaizumi carded one hand through Oikawa’s hair and clasped their hands together over Oikawa’s chest with the other. He spent a lot of nights just playing with Oikawa’s hands, gently kissing his fingertips, appreciating all of the callouses.

Save for a few small domestic spats that were bound to happen to any new roommates or romantic partners, first year passed without a hitch.

Their first anniversary fell on a Saturday, so they had the whole day together. The day as a whole was phenomenal: lazy morning sex, pancake breakfast, sleepy movie afternoon, and fancy dinner. After dinner, though, Oikawa already had Iwaizumi pushed up against the outside of their door before he’d even unlocked it. He pressed their lips together hotly, like they had so many times before.

Iwaizumi smiled into the kiss but ducked away from Oikawa’s mouth. “Not yet. We’ll get there, though,” he promised and pressed a quick kiss to Oikawa’s jaw to satiate his partner for the time being. They pushed into the apartment, but Iwaizumi didn’t look at Oikawa, instead heading straight for his own bedroom, which had barely been used since they’d moved in - Iwaizumi slept in Oikawa’s room almost every night.

Iwaizumi first unzipped his school bag, fishing around in one of the pockets to find a permanent marker. Then, he opened his closet, sifting through clothes until he found his Aoba Johsai jacket. Still not speaking, he entered the living room, still holding the jacket and marker, grabbed Oikawa’s sleeve, and pulled him into Oikawa’s bedroom. He then found Oikawa’s own Aoba Johsai jacket, ignoring his boyfriend’s questions as to what the hell, Iwa-chan?

Iwaizumi laid both jackets side by side on the bed. “Sit.” Oikawa did, still thoroughly confused. “So, I’ve had this idea for a while, and I thought now would be a good time.” He blushed slightly as he doubted his idea. “I want us to trade jackets.” Oikawa looked confused. “Well - we both still wear them fairly often, and I was thinking that even though they look the same, we’ll always know they’re the others’? Something like that? It’s kinda a stupid idea, I know -”

“I love it.” Oikawa jumped up and cradled Iwaizumi’s face. He was beaming. Oikawa kissed him gently, tenderly, slowly, in the way that he knew Iwaizumi loved most. He pulled back. “What was it you were wanting to do with the marker?”

Iwaizumi still had the marker in his hand where it was holding Oikawa’s face. Nimbly twirling it in his fingers, he replied, “I was thinking we could, uh, write our names in them before trading?” He took his own jacket and folded back the end of the left sleeve, revealing the inside of the cuff, which was thick enough material to not let the marker bleed. “Is that okay?”

Oikawa, who still had the biggest grin on his face, wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s abdomen and kissed his neck. “Of course. You’re such a sap, Iwa-chan. I love this, almost as much as I love you.”

He craned his neck to chastely press their lips together again. “I love you, too.” Iwaizumi turned back to the jacket, and he carefully wrote out HAJIME #4 on one side of the seam, the side that would be closer to the body, and STRONGER with a small heart on the other side. He flipped the cuff right and passed the marker to Oikawa, who wrote TOORU #1 and INVINCIBLE, also with a small heart on his.

“Now, Tooru, let’s pick up where we left off,” Iwaizumi said after they’d cleared the bed, a playful glint in his eyes.

Oikawa didn’t need to be told twice before he was backing Iwaizumi up onto the bed.

Iwaizumi runs his right thumb over the inside of his left sleeve cuff. TOORU #1, INVINCIBLE. He still wears the jacket because he still loves volleyball, still loves the time he had at Aoba Johsai. He remembers all of the time they had together there. The thought makes his throat clog up and weakens his heart. He swallows thickly.

He never thought he’d have to worry about running into Oikawa, especially not while he was still wearing the jacket.

To make matters worse, Oikawa’s wearing his jacket, too.

Nothing’s changed after all these years.

“Iwa-chan, why are you going to London?” He sounds scared.

Weakened by nostalgia, he replies softly, “Vacation.” Pause. “You?”

Oikawa seems taken aback by the question. “Work trip, but I’m going a few days early for a quick vacation.”

“You still wear it.” He nods in the vague direction of Oikawa’s jacket, noticing that he wears the left cuff rolled, exposing the writing from all those years ago. HAJIME #4, STRONGER. He hopes bringing this up isn’t a mistake, but a growing feeling in his gut says it definitely is.

“You do, too.”

Their eyes meet for only the third time in the entire flight. Iwaizumi briefly notes that there are still over eight hours remaining on this flight, so getting into a dangerous conversation isn’t in his best interest. Fuck it.

“Of course I do,” he says, as if it’s obvious.

“Most people would get rid of their old partner’s clothes after a breakup,” Oikawa responds. Dangerous.

“Most people do, yeah.” Iwaizumi tries his damndest to keep his voice neutral, to not let his emotions show. Thinking about high school makes you weak. Now look at what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“And you…?”

Iwaizumi averts his eyes. Can’t let you go, but it’s been three years and our relationship fell apart because of me. He can’t say that so he opts for, “Apparently neither of us are most.”

Silence.

“I miss you.” Oikawa sounds scared.

“It didn’t work.” Iwaizumi is blunt.

Oikawa moves slowly, so, so slowly, as he guides Iwaizumi’s chin back to look at him with one finger. Against his better judgement, Iwaizumi allows it. Oikawa’s eyes are watery. “It’s been three years, Hajime. Can we talk about it?”

“It was my fault and you know it. There’s nothing else to talk about,” he says cooly.

“No -”

“Then let’s talk.”

During their third year of university, Oikawa proposed. It was perfect for them. Once every season, their universities played each other, and after that game - Iwaizumi’s team had won, but Oikawa was too nervous to be upset about the loss - he’d stopped Iwaizumi before he could go to get changed out of his uniform. He’d enlisted help from some of his university teammates (shoutout to Kuroo), and got down on one knee right in front of the scoreboard. That part actually wasn’t planned, but the pictures came out amazingly. Iwaizumi said yes, of course.

From there, they moved on with their lives and into their final year of university.

Iwaizumi picked up an internship, which he threw himself into headfirst, and Oikawa started spending even more time in the gym in hopes to get scouted for the national team. There had been eyes on him for the last two years, so this season would be his last chance to prove he was worthy of national play.

They saw each other less and less, but still came home to bed every night, even if it was late.

One week, Iwaizumi snuck into bed at just past midnight, having just gotten in from his internship. Oikawa was just barely still awake as Iwaizumi wrapped an arm around his middle and pulled him close.

“You’re home late again,” Oikawa whispered. It was the third night that week.

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi responded, punctuating the response with a light kiss to Oikawa’s nape. “I’ll try to be home by dinner tomorrow.” Oikawa hummed. “How was practice?”

“Good. I miss playing with you, though,” he said longingly.

“Let’s go to the gym this weekend.”

Oikawa flipped around, bringing them face to face. “Really?” His eyes were shining.

“Really.”

Oikawa surged forward and kissed him deeply, pushing Iwaizumi onto his back and straddling him. Iwaizumi kissed back with just as much fervor - god, he’d missed this with how much he’d been working. “God, I love you,” Iwaizumi mumbled against his lips.

“I love you too,” Oikawa responded, and Iwaizumi’s chest flooded with fondness, just like the first time.

Received, 21:45: hey iwaizumi-san. i’ll be out for the rest of the week

Received, 21:46: i’ll make sure all of my work is finished when i return

Delivered, 21:48: Okay. Is everything alright?

Received, 21:49: yea i had a family emergency come up

Delivered, 21:50: Alright. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.

Received, 21:50: thanks

“Is that work again?” Oikawa asked tentatively. It was a Friday night, and they were laying together on the couch watching one of Oikawa’s favorite movies. It was supposed to be a night for just the two of them since Iwaizumi had been working late every night that week.

“Yeah, sorry,” Iwaizumi apologized and kissed his head. He wrapped his arm tighter around his fiance.

Oikawa found the hand that was still holding his phone and pried it out of his grip. “This is mine now. You said tonight was for us,” he pouted. He was being over-dramatic in a way that was slightly childish in a joking manner, but Iwaizumi could tell he was actually upset. He’d been neglecting Oikawa for the past few months, and it was catching up. “Please, Iwa-chan.” His eyes were pleading Iwaizumi to pay attention, so he consented. Oikawa untangled their limbs and walked to their room, Iwaizumi’s phone in hand. When he returned and sat down a moment later, he said, “You can have it back tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay,” Iwaizumi conceded. “I’ll do better.”

Oikawa kissed the back of their conjoined hands. “I believe you.”

It didn’t get better.

It got worse.

“Okay, so we’re leaving tomorrow night to go home, and we’ll stay at my parent’s house. We’re taking the five-fifteen train, and we should be there around nine.” Oikawa was rattling off details about their trip home to see their parents over winter break. The plan was to stay home for a few days and then return to their apartment and spend Christmas Eve and Day together.

Received, 15:04: We need you in the office

Received, 15:04: There’s an issue with one of the processes and the other team leaders are already on holiday

“Tooru?”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need to take a later train. They’re calling me into work.” Iwaizumi looked away in shame.

“But Iwa-chan! We’ve had this trip planned for months!”

“I -”

Oikawa got in close to Iwaizumi’s face. His time at work had been getting worse and worse, and he knew that Oikawa was going to reach a breaking point. “Tell them no.”

He swallowed. He was nervous - what if he got fired?

But - he had an angry Oikawa, and that could end up far, far worse for him.

Delivered, 15:14: I can’t. Tooru and I are leaving for Sendai tonight. Sorry.

Received, 15:15: It’s important.

Delivered, 15:18: I cannot come in. This trip is important to my fiance.

Delivered, 15:18: Sorry.

Received, 15:19: Noted.

That was an awfully ominous response coming from someone at a career level above him, but Iwaizumi hoped it was worth it. Keeping Tooru happy is always worth it.

To: Iwaizumi Hajime

From: Management Team

Subject: Work Dedication Issues

Iwaizumi,

It has come to our attention that you expressed an issue dedicating yourself to your position on an occurrence on 14 December 2020. We are aware that you were recently promoted from intern to team leader, so if the new job requirements were not properly communicated, please let us know so we can direct you to the documentation of your job description. In short, as a team leader, you are required to be dedicated to your work and must be reliable to be called upon. If that is not possible, please let us know so we can begin training a replacement .

Best,

Management Team

Iwaizumi felt sick as he read over the email again. And again.

“Tooru?”

“Hm?” Oikawa hummed as he walked into the living room, where Iwaizumi was sitting on the couch, legs pulled to his chest.

Iwaizumi handed him his phone, open to the email. He watched as Oikawa’s eyes scanned the email, watched as his features set into a hard glare. Oikawa thrusted the phone back at him.

“Are you blaming this on me?” Oikawa demanded.

“I should have gone in that evening. They’re threatening my job.”

Oikawa’s eyes turned from cold to fiery. “And you’re threatening me. I didn’t do anything wrong by asking my fiance to pay attention to me for once and to follow through on plans we’d had for months. ”

“But, Tooru -”

“Hajime. I’ve put up with this for so long.” Oikawa’s face softens. “I know you’re dedicated to your job. But you’ve been forgetting about me. And that’s okay for a while. But not for eight months. I’m tired of it. Please, Hajime, don’t make me make you choose,” he begged, tears in his eyes.

Not for the first time, Iwaizumi saw the toll his neglect was taking on his partner. He felt like he took a sucker punch to the gut. “It hasn’t been ei -”

“It has. I’ve been waiting and waiting for it to get better. I thought it would get better in the summer, and then in the fall, and then at Christmas, but it didn’t.” He shook his head as if trying to clear the tears bubbling up. “I miss you, Iwa-chan. I can take a lot, but I can’t take this much. I need you back. So....” Deep breath. Iwaizumi tensed. He knew what was coming. “It’s either me or the job.”

“Tooru, I can’t just quit my job!” Iwaizumi protested.

Oikawa’s face crumpled. “Then I’ll send Kuroo to get some of my things in the morning.”

Iwaizumi stood and wrapped his arms around Oikawa, who weakly pushed against them. “No, no. I can’t - I can’t - lose you.”

Oikawa pushed away with force. “Oh, baby, you lost me months ago,” he said bitterly. Tears ran down his face as they stood in silence, three feet separating them, as his words sunk in.

Then, he turned and walked to the bedroom. He threw one change of clothes into his school bag along with his laptop and some chargers and toiletries.

Iwaizumi was still in the living room, frozen. “Tooru, don’t -”

Oikawa pressed a kiss to his cheek. He tasted salt. “I love you, Iwa-chan.” And then he left.

Iwaizumi cried.

“You didn’t come back,” Iwaizumi says. He picks at one of the threads on his t-shirt.

“I said I wouldn’t.” Pause. “It took you three weeks to message me.”

Guilt eats at his stomach. “I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.” Iwaizumi debates on how honest he wants to be. If he wants to open this whole box of worms, if he actually wants to try to make the relationship work or to repair a friendship with Oikawa, or if he wants to just give the bare minimum of information. “There was too much I needed to say, so I was waiting for you to come to me. Kuroo said you’d probably come around.”

“I didn’t.”

“No, you didn’t. Why?”

“Hajime… You hurt me. A lot. Eight months is a long time. Basically from the time you got that promotion until I left, I hardly saw you. And I just progressively got worse. You kept promising you’d get better, but then the next week I’d see you even less.” Deep breath. “I missed you so much. I missed the man who I proposed to, I missed the boy who I confessed to, I missed the boy who I spent all of our school years setting to, I missed my best friend, I missed my boyfriend, I missed my fiance, I missed my partner. I lost all of those, because you weren’t ever there when I needed you. Did you know that I actually got a job offer in Sendai? I debated taking it, but I wanted to wait and see if I could talk some sense into you. I never got scouted for the national team, so I applied for a few overseas teams. I made new friends. And a whole bunch of other things. All of this happened when we were still together, Hajime. I’m willing to bet you didn’t know any of it because of how preoccupied you were with your job. And it’s great that you had and still have such a good job, but…”

“I’m sorry, Tooru.” His fingers clutch at a chain tucked into his shirt that suddenly feels very heavy. Hoping it’s not the wrong choice but mostly moving on impulse anyways, he pulls out the chain, showing Oikawa what’s hanging on it.

He gasps. “You.... You still wear it?”

“Of course.” He bites the inside of his lip. “You never officially called off the wedding.” The engagement ring Oikawa had bought slides along the chain, glinting in the low cabin light. “Tooru… You deserve better than how I can treat you.”

“No.” Iwaizumi snaps his head up to meet Oikawa’s shining eyes. “You treat me like a goddamn king. You just didn’t prioritize us. And that was a problem.”

“I still can’t prioritize. I’ve been talking to work this whole flight,” Iwaizumi mumbles. As if on cue, his phone buzzes immediately, but he ignores it. “But…”

Oikawa sighs. “I don’t think I made a mistake by leaving.” Iwaizumi’s heart plummets. “But I made a mistake by not coming back.” Inhale. Exhale. “But I’m here now. So… Iwa-chan, will you take me back?”

Their eyes meet again. Iwaizumi searches the deep, brown eyes for any sign of a joke. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You’re with the sister company now, yeah?” Nod. “Maybe you can talk to your supervisor about getting some more set hours and less on-call hours? I… I don’t want to live without you any longer. I want to at least try to make it work, Iwa-chan.”

“My supervisor is the one who sent me on vacation,” Iwaizumi chuckles. “We can try. Slowly.” He takes Oikawa’s hands in his own carefully, loose enough that the other can take them out of his grip, and draws the hands to his mouth. He presses a gentle kiss to each hand.

“A true gentleman,” Oikawa laughs. Everything is so, so soft as he cradles Iwaizumi’s face with one of his hands and kisses him. For the first time in nearly three years, Iwaizumi’s heart feels like it might be okay.

Once he pulls away, Oikawa takes the left sleeve of Iwaizumi’s jacket and cuffs the sleeve the same way he has his own, exposing TOORU #1, INVINCIBLE. Then, he laces their fingers together.

“Now, I’m going to sleep,” he announces.

Since he has no objections and is getting tired again himself, Iwaizumi leans over and rests his head on Oikawa’s shoulder, the other resting his head on top of Iwaizumi’s. It feels right.

Hours later, when he reads the message he’d received, it is from his supervisor.

Received, 23:55: If this message sends and your phone is still on while you’re on vacation, I’m disconnecting your company phone

Received, 23:55: Take time for yourself

Received, 23:56: If you connected to plane wifi just to receive work messages, so help me Iwaizumi, I don’t know what to do with you

Oikawa and his supervisor get along very well when they meet a month later.

#iwaoi #my writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fanfic #hq #hq fanfic #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #iwaoi fanfic #iwaizumi x oikawa #canon divergent #i guess?#ao3 #post breakup

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miracalicethebookgirl · 4 years

Text

The Phony and the Famous Pt. 4

AO3

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3.

Summary: Lila spreads lies about being famous with worldwide connections to increase her local popularity. She’s confident that Marinette will never be able to prove otherwise. What she, and even Marinette herself, don’t realize is that Marinette won’t have to do any of that to come out on top. - A story in which everything Lila lies about, Marinette turns into reality for herself, usually unknowingly (our girl is quite the lucky one, after all).

“During our world travels, my diplomat parents have helped me convince the leaders of several nations to agree to reduce world pollution. And I’m very optimistic that the prince will jump on board.”

Season 2, “Catalyst (Heroes’ Day - Part 1)”

...

“So,” Otis Césaire began, “let me get this straight.” He steepled his fingers together and pointed them to the teens before him. “Le Parc des Félins, the zoological park for wild cats, reached out to the two of you about hosting a fundraiser.”

“Actually, they reached out to just me. Y’know, being the cat hero and all. But then I reached out to Marinette because I thought it’d be great publicity since she saved Jagged Stone’s crocodile last week. She was trending for several days!”

Otis stared at Chat Noir, who kept grinning expectantly.

Marinette awkwardly smiled from beside him.

“Does Alya know you’re here?” he asked.

Her smile turned into a grimace. “Not yet. I figured we’d get official approval from you—since you work at the Parc Zoologique de Paris—and the zoologists from the Parc des Félins first. Alya gets a bit excitable when it comes to the heroes and I didn’t want her to make any false announcements on her blog by accident.”

Otis chuckled. “That sounds like my daughter alright. Okay, I’ll bite. Sounds like an interesting endeavor for both parks but why are the two of you planning this instead of an actual marketing person from Parc des Félins? Or any sort of event planner?”

“Hey now, Mari’s done event planning before!” Chat Noir admonished the man. “Besides, you're never too young to become a philanthropist.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “What he means to say is, the fundraiser is going to be our own little project even though the Park des Félins reached out to him first. They were reaching out to see if Chat would want to do something like this. But he’s being overzealous about it and wanted to organize something right away. He came to me saying he wanted my input since I’m such an ‘animal lover sensation’ right now but I know he just needed someone who actually knew how to put an event together.”

“Give your partner some credit, Mari. You wound me.”

Before Marinette could reply and probably send the teens off on a tangent, Otis cleared his throat to bring their attention back.

“I’m all for it. But,” he added before the two could thank him, “where will the funds for hosting this event come from? This zoo has no budget set aside for something as spontaneous as this.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I was talking about philanthropy,” Chat quipped. He pulled out a sleek black, gold-engraved checkbook from the pocket of his suit. “Gimme the numbers and I’ll jot them down.”

Otis gave a scandalized look while Marinette gawked at him.

“What are you doing?!” She snatched the checkbook out of his hands and attempted to cram it back into his pocket. “You’ll go revealing your identity that way, you stupid cat!”

Chat burst out laughing.

“Relax, relax! This is just a little pocket notebook.” He took the “checkbook” back and flipped through the pages to show them that it was merely filled with blank white paper. “I’m not that careless. You seem a little stressed these days, Marinette. I thought a prank would cheer you up.”

Rather than laugh, Marinette just put her face in her hands and groaned. “Not. Funny.”

Otis just shook his head at their antics and nudged them back on track with a smile.

By the end of the hour, agreements were made, plans were tweaked and contact info was exchanged. It amused Otis how serious the teens looked when they each shook his hand, trying to come across as formal and businesslike.

“Come by for dinner tonight,” Otis offered to Marinette. “I’m sure Alya and the twins would love to hear about this straight from the person planning it. Ah, and you’re invited as well, Chat Noir, if you’re free.” He added the last part hastily when the hero had a badly hidden hopeful look on his face. Otis wasn’t sure what Ladybug and Chat Noir did outside of akuma-fighting hours but he should have extended the invitation regardless.

From the way those artificial(?) ears perked up, it was the right choice.

“I’d love to!”

Marinette rolled her eyes fondly and accepted as well.

…

“Marinette! Marinette! Hide us or we’ll turn into Sapotis!”

Otis looked up from his issue of National Geographic to see Ella and Etta run behind Marinette as soon as the girl entered the apartment. Alya came running out of the twins’ room with an evil laugh.

“Bwahaha! You won’t be able to become Sapotis because Lady Wifi will freeze naughty little children first!”

“Nooooo!” the little girls laughed. They ran to the living room and over to the couch where they leaped onto Otis.

“Save us, Daddy!” Ella cried, giggling all the while.

“We need Animan’s powers to defeat Lady Wifi!” Etta added.

“I’ll do my best. After all, panthers are super fast!” Otis ensued in a game of keep-away with Alya and the twins while Marinette walked to the kitchen to greet Marlena. Nora also emerged from her room at all the voices, knowing that it meant dinnertime was near.

Once all the girls calmed down, Otis took his place at the dining table and turned to Marinette once everyone was seated. “Is our other guest not coming over after all?”

Alya looked to her friend. “Huh? You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise. He’s coming separately but I guess he’s a little late.” Marinette shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

As if waiting for that cue, there was a rapping on the balcony’s glass door. They all turned to see—

“Chat Noir?!”

Alya practically tripped over herself trying to run to the door and open it hastily. “What are you doing here?” She reached into her pocket for her phone in what Otis recognized by now to be her reaction when either hero was even mentioned.

Chat stood in the doorway and lifted a hand to the back of his head. “Well, your dad invited me to dinner and I hope I’m still welcome?” he answered sheepishly, an odd thing to see coming from the normally boisterous and confident boy.

Alya just gaped at him, so Marinette walked over and grabbed his arm, pulling him inside and seating him right next to her. “Of course you are! C’mon, Al, let’s introduce him to everyone.”

That shook the other girl out of her daze. “I can’t believe I’m about to have dinner with Chat Noir. The only thing that could make this better is if Ladybug were here!”

Otis thought Marinette looked rather uncomfortable when she laughed at that. He brushed that thought away however so he could calm Alya down.

Everyone managed to settle down again, so he began to explain the fundraiser proposal that Chat Noir and Marinette had presented to him and how he received approval from the Parc Zoologique’s director. The teens chimed in every so often between their hearty bites of food to add little details or answer the dozens of questions Ella and Etta kept throwing at them.

“Alya, what did I say about phones at the table?” Marlena scolded.

Alya pouted but put her phone away. “Sorry, Mom. But you can’t blame me for wanting to get video proof of Chat Noir at my dinner table.”

Swallowing down some food, Chat Noir piped up. “You can take all the videos or photos you want later. I’ll be happy to tell you more about the fundraiser with my princess here.”

Alya raised an eyebrow at Marinette, who looked like she was trying to melt into her chair. “‘Princess,’ huh?”

“Don’t spoil my dinner with your gross flirting, Mr. Whiskers.”

“Nora,” Marlena lightly admonished.

“It’s Anansi, Mom. Anansi. ”

“If Nora is Anansi then we’re Sapotis!”

“Sapotis!”

The table talk quickly devolved into several side conversations happening over each other, something Otis came to expect every evening. From the way Marinette argued with Alya about something, it seemed the girl had become used to it as well despite coming from a much smaller household.

When he looked beside him to the cat hero however, he was surprised to see the boy looking rapidly at everyone else at the table, as if wondering which conversation to follow.

“Not used to big family dinners, eh?” Otis asked him.

Chat Noir looked a bit relieved to finally have his attention focused somewhere. “Uh, no, not really. I usually eat my meals alone.”

Hearing that, Otis felt sad for the boy. He put a hand on his shoulder, hoping he could say something to cheer him up. “I bet dinners like this with your friends are quite special then.”

Chat Noir managed a small smile. “Yeah,” he whispered. Otis didn’t miss the glance towards the girl sitting beside the hero. “They really are.”

Hiding a knowing smile, Otis left it at that and joined in on the different conversations. He and Marinette managed to coax Chat Noir into talking more as well, and dinner ended on a high note.

After everyone grabbed a plate of mille-feuille that Marinette brought over from the bakery, Nora, the twins and Marlena all left to do their own things so Otis and the rest of the teens could talk more about the fundraiser.

Alya brought her phone out triumphantly, now that they all sat on the living room couches, and faced the camera to the other three.

“Let’s just get right to it. I can edit an intro into the video later.”

And so Alya asked her questions and Chat Noir and Marinette took turns answering, much of which was already said during dinner but Alya continued to play up her surprise every now and then. Otis only spoke when prompted since he wasn’t really used to being formal on camera.

“So whose idea was the fundraiser anyway?” Alya asked, winding down the interview and putting her phone away. She had enough content to satisfy her audience and expressed that she wanted to continue chatting more casually.

“Everything is Chat’s idea,” Marinette quickly responded.

Chat Noir tutted. “True, but I put you in charge, Mari. Honestly, I don’t think I could do any of this without you.”

While Marinette spluttered and a blush crept on her face, Otis jokingly said, “Oh, so I guess the actual zoologists are just chopped liver, eh Chat Noir?” Which just got the hero falling over himself as well trying to correct himself. Alya just cackled loudly at the other two making a mess of themselves.

Shaking his head fondly at all of them, Otis stood up and assured Chat Noir that it was all in jest. Otis then bid them all a good night as he had to wake up early for work the next day, and told Marinette and Chat Noir that he looked forward to working with them.

They were good kids. And Otis would do his best to make this fundraiser the greatest event the zoos have ever put together.

…

Otis wasn’t sure where everything went wrong.

For the past few weeks, Marinette, Chat Noir and the small teams from the Parc Zoologique and the Parc des Félins worked tirelessly but flawlessly together to make sure this fundraiser was a success.

Grants were approved by the city and the director of the Parc Zoologique signed off on the necessary documents to give them permission to host the event on zoo grounds. Caterers were hired, including Marinette’s own parents, so delicious food was guaranteed. Invitations went out to zoo patrons through written letters and emails and promoted through the news and all forms of social media. Marinette had gotten hold of a band—Kitty Section—to provide some ambience or to take song requests from guests. Even Chat Noir got Ladybug to agree to make a brief appearance and photo op, which was sure to rouse much interest from the greater population of Paris. (Apparently it was difficult to persuade Ladybug to attend any sort of public event for any length of time.)

Within a week, the tickets were sold out and the waitlist was a mile long.

Marinette had acted quickly and requested to speak with the zoo director. Next Otis heard, the director announced that the fundraiser location would expand to encompass the entire zoo from what was initially just their biggest pavilion. Temporary barriers would be erected between the walkways and the habitats so the animals’ evening routines were not interrupted. Mobile food carts from all over Paris were invited to sign up for a spot in the zoo to run their businesses in addition to the zoo’s permanent food carts and restaurants so the massive influx of guests wouldn’t go hungry.

One after another, issues were resolved with a swiftness that Otis never thought he would see coming from a young teenager. And with such ingenious solutions too.

By the day of the fundraiser, everyone was talking about it. Adrien Agreste, a local celebrity—and his daughter’s classmate—had been signal boosting the event through Instagram, even committing to his own attendance. According to Alya, this apparently drove his fans crazy about getting tickets themselves. Add them to fans of Chat Noir and fans of wildlife conservation, and suddenly you were a loser if you were going to be one of the few in Paris who wouldn’t even tune in to the live streaming of the event if you couldn’t be there personally (Alya’s words, not his).

With such a large scale event, Otis expected there to be some hiccups along the way and steeled himself for when those problems arose.

And yet.

He couldn’t help but feel more and more disheartened when the problems kept piling up one after another.

It started with the live stream. When the time came for the stream to begin, it was discovered that some cameras weren’t working even though they had double checked them earlier in the day during the zoo’s hours of operation. The several camera feeds with technical difficulties were spread to the far corners of the zoo and with only two IT people, the issue would not be resolved for quite some time.

Thankfully, Marinette found a solution almost immediately by calling over a classmate of hers—Max, who was a technological genius. With Chat Noir’s superhuman capabilities, Max and the IT people were able to swiftly examine all the troublesome cameras and fix them within minutes.

Next, a handful of volunteers that were supposed to check in with a zoo employee failed to show. The employee had come running to Marinette and Otis in a panic because some of their planned events were suddenly understaffed. Everything was already scheduled to start, so Marinette rounded up many of her classmates and delegated them equally to each portion of the zoo that needed help. They obeyed with no fuss so Marinette was able to speak to the frazzled employee one on one. Together they determined that the volunteers had all confirmed their time a week before and had been emailed the directions on how to find the zoo employee.

Marinette suggested the employee check his phone to see if any of the volunteers contacted him and he was surprised to find that many people had gotten lost on their way into the zoo. Otis followed as they backtracked the directions from the email and discovered that some signs specifically made for the volunteers had gone missing. Chat Noir had joined them by then and was able to raise himself up above the zoo with his staff and easily spot the gaggle of lost volunteers.

Of course the problems didn’t end there. An item from the auction had been knocked into a pot of chili. The rhinos began rampaging in their habitat. Kitty Section had somehow misplaced half of their wires and cords.

Otis was surprised an akuma hadn’t also appeared yet. He had to hand it to the amazing team they had. If a problem didn’t have an immediate and obvious solution, Marinette was quick to produce a plan of action and no one argued with her.

But he could see how the stress was beginning to weigh her down, how her reassuring smile became more strained by the minute. One look at Chat Noir showed that he was no different but not once did he hesitate to follow Marinette’s commands.

It shamed Otis to see that the hero had to treat the fundraiser like a draining battle than the fun event that it was supposed to be.

At some point, Alya took her father aside.

“I think I know who’s behind all of this.”

“Behind…? Surely these problems are just really bad coincidences. Who would want to sabotage a fundraiser?”

Alya’s eyes were spitting fire. “Lila.”

“Who is Lila?”

Crossing her arms, Alya tried to explain as fast as she could.

“She’s a girl in our class who has this habit of lying to make others look bad and make herself look amazing. She has it out for Marinette because she was the first one to call her out. She managed to get Marinette temporarily expelled a while back!”

Alya ran a hand down her face aggravatedly.

“I never even realized what a lying snake she was until recently, when she tried to claim that this fundraiser was all her idea and that Marinette had been stealing all the credit. Anyway, I’ve spotted her around some suspicious spots today and I’d bet five of my blogs that she’s the one causing this mess.”

Otis frowned and rubbed his beard. “What a nasty person. Well, the best we can really do about her now is to catch her trying something else and then escorting her off the premises. After all, this is merely conjecture right now. I’m not outright dismissing your claims,” he quickly added when he saw his daughter about to argue. “But we have to go about this sensibly and right now, our priority is to keep the fundraiser going as smoothly as we can. If we run into this Lila girl, we can keep an eye on her to try and prevent other mishaps.”

Alya begrudgingly agreed to do as her father said. Though she eagerly accepted the task of spreading a warning about Lila to the rest of the zoo’s employees and volunteers.

After that, there were suspiciously no more incidents. In fact, they managed to reach their $500,000 goal through in-person donations alone, thanks in large part to Adrien Agreste’s generous $250,000 donation on behalf of his father. Many fans followed the model’s lead and nearly matched it. Then when Ladybug finally showed up, online donations skyrocketed.

Leaving Ladybug and Chat Noir to the masses, Otis took the opportunity to look for Marinette so he could personally share the good news with her. She had gone above and beyond for a month straight and deserved to know ASAP that her hard work paid off, especially with how rocky the day started.

On his way to the main pavilion however, Otis heard strange metallic clanking coming from the other side of one of the barriers. He noted that the sound was coming from the panther enclosure, which was a great cause for concern.

Rounding the barrier, Otis was shocked to see a teenage girl—who matched the description his daughter had given him—attempting to unlatch the gate that separated the enclosure to the main walkways where visitors usually stood.

“Hey!” he yelled sharply, causing the girl to jolt. “What are you doing?”

He ran over and slammed a hand on the gate, doing a quick examination to ensure that it would remain shut.

Otis spun back to face the girl. Lila, he recalled, was her name.

“Well? Are you going to explain yourself?” he demanded. “You could have endangered not just yourself, but everyone else in this zoo. Not even from the panther itself, but from the massive panic this could have caused.”

He didn’t expect the girl to collapse to her knees and begin bawling her eyes out.

“It was all Marinette’s idea!” she cried, covering her face with her hands. “She’s blackmailing me and she said she’d expose all of my secrets if I didn’t let the animals out! Please, I didn’t know what else to do!”

This made Otis furious. How dare this—this unrepentant liar accuse such a genuine and hard-working girl of such nonsense?

“Come with me,” he said, though it was without any compassion. “If Marinette is really blackmailing you, then you can tell the whole story to the police.”

Lila’s eyes widened and she stuttered something out about Marinette corrupting the law before she got up and ran for it.

“Hey!”

Otis gave chase but as soon as they rounded the barrier, he lost her in the crowd.

Just great.

By then, Otis’s stress levels had reached an all-time high, he thought he was going to have an aneurysm.

But all of that faded away and only anger remained when a certain voice echoed in his head.

“Animan, too many humans are ignorant to the majestic power of the wild and try to use it for their own selfish gains. I’m going to give you a little extra power this time around to show people what it’s like to be a mere animal and how it feels to be so low on the food chain. In return, you will capture me Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous!”

“Yes, Hawkmoth.”

…

When Otis was back to full awareness, he found himself sitting on the ground in the middle of the pavilion and being hugged by his daughter.

Meters away, he saw Marinette being scooped up in her own embrace by…not exactly Chat Noir…uh, what was his name again? Oh! Mister Bug!

Mister Bug set Marinette back down on the ground but he didn’t let her go.

“When I saw a hawk dive in and pick a hamster up off the ground I thought it was you! I couldn’t be sure but now you’re here and you’re okay…” he trailed off into quiet muttering. Marinette simply hugged him back.

“Dad, are you okay?”

Otis blinked and looked down at Alya, who had pulled back and looked at him in concern.

“Oh, yes, I’m quite fine. Thanks to Ladybu—er, Mister Bug and I’m guessing Lady Noire? I just hope people weren’t too badly hurt.”

Alya patted her dad’s shoulder. “Lady Noire never showed up but everyone’s as fine as they can be. Animan had the same powers from last time but also turned half of the fundraiser guests into tiny mammals. Thankfully no one got eaten.”

Otis breathed a sigh of relief.

Turning into a small animal was bad enough. No one needed the trauma of being eaten alive.

“Are you alright?”

Otis and Alya looked up at the red hero. Marinette stood beside him. Seeing them like that, Otis felt a little deja vu and thought the image wasn’t very strange at all. Like they fit together. He shook his head. Maybe Tom was getting in his head. He vaguely remembered one time when the man ranted to him about how Chat Noir broke his daughter’s heart but that they would have made an adorable couple if it had worked out.

When Otis realized the teens were waiting for an answer, he stood and responded, “Never been better. This old man’s still got a lotta kick in him. How else will I keep up with the monkeys and lions?”

Marinette and Mister Bug sighed in relief while Alya chuckled.

“Well, now that that’s over with, we can get back to the fundraiser if people still want to be here.” Marinette looked around at all the guests who were wandering around finding family and friends—a typical post-akuma sight.

“Why don’t you check what people are saying online?” Mister Bug suggested. He stepped away. “Meanwhile, I’ve gotta find Ladybug and give her Miraculous back.”

As soon as he left, Marinette shuffled her feet. “Oh, phew! That was a wild battle!” she exclaimed. “I suddenly really have to pee!” And off she ran.

“Does she act like that often?”

Alya pulled out her phone and did as Mister Bug said. “Run off while shouting some weird excuse? Yeah, it’s like a daily ritual.”

Thinking it best to ignore it, Otis looked around at the milling guests while Alya relayed online reactions to him. Apparently, more people had tuned in to the live stream during the akuma attack to watch the action in real time and had begun donating again after the defeat. Many expressed the hope that the fundraiser continued, and by the look of things at the zoo, Otis believed that it wouldn’t be much trouble to continue where everything left off.

Minutes later, Marinette and Chat Noir both came running back and Otis shared his thoughts.

“Are you sure?” Marinette asked. “Something made you upset enough to get akumatized and we don’t want you to be forced to feel that way again. We’ve far surpassed our fundraising goal so we can end the night here.”

Otis shook his head. “I’m positive. There’s no reason to shut everything down now when everyone is still eager to see what else we have in store. Besides, the event should run smoothly all the way to the end as long as we find that lying brat and keep her off the premises.”

The other three looked surprised.

“Lila? You ran into her?” Alya asked, looking ready to run off and find the girl herself.

“Heh.”

They all looked to Chat Noir and he gave them a mischievous grin.

“I don’t think we’ll be having any more problems with her today.”

“What do you mean, Chat?”

“Well, Princess, near the end of the battle I spotted a certain opossum getting flung into the penguin habitat. Perhaps we should check there for suspicious characters and get en-closure.”

The girls eyed each other for a moment before they sped off in the direction of the penguins.

Otis chuckled and followed at a more leisure pace, checking in with employees along the way with Chat Noir.

Fifteen minutes later and a soaking wet Lila Rossi was being escorted to a medical tent to change into dry clothes and then warm up for the rest of the evening under the watchful eye of a nurse. Meanwhile the fundraiser festivities continued.

…

The next day, it was announced to all of Paris that Marinette and Chat Noir’s joint zoo fundraiser raised over $5 million because the majority of the city’s population had donated. The most notable donors were the Agreste family, the Tsurugi family, Jagged Stone and the Bourgeois family, with their donations totalling just a little over $2 million alone.

#MariNature trended for a whole week.

To Marinette’s (and Adrien’s) embarrassment, #marichat and #maribug were still being used a month later.

#ml fic #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #chat noir #otis cesaire #alya cesaire #lila rossi #marichat #maribug #zoos #wildlife conservation #the phony and the famous

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devil-in-the-d3tails · 4 years

Text

It’s the End of the World as We Know It - Chapter 1

summary: During the international quarantine in your first-ever pandemic, the people around you slowly begin to disappear. As the world grows quieter and quieter, you find yourself all alone-- no power, no friends, and only one goal: to find whoever of your friends might be left and reunite with them.You're naive to think anything can be that simple. As you're faced with ever-increasing loneliness, you run into some boys who apparently went to the same high school as you. Will you join forces with them to figure out your strange circumstances together, or will you brave loneliness in a world that is slowly crumbling apart?

Link on AO3!

words: 4,452

rating: M - Mature

genre: angst/humor, romance, adventure, apocalypse AU, reader-insert

warnings: sort of depressing content, a smidge of violence, cursing

a/n: hello, hello! this is my first fic for haikyuu (originally posted on AO3), and i wanted to post it on tumblr as well just for shits n gigs. please enjoy!

- Beginning of the End -

It was a Thursday the day everyone disappeared.

The world was quiet outside, but it was loud in your phone, on account of the international quarantine. Everyone was tweeting, making dumb videos, playing video games. You would sit in your room for hours on end, scrolling through your phone as you mourned the loss of your senior year of high school. No prom, no graduation, no more arts and crafts club. It was bad enough that your closest friend group had been disbanded before your senior year even started-- it was just bad luck, but they all left to live in different states while you were left alone in suburbia.

You stayed home with your mom while your dad went to work-- he was considered an essential worker, as he worked in the grocery store. Your mom was much more active than you, constantly cleaning or cooking or going for a walk. It was admirable, but it irritated you how she would always try and get you to interact with her activities. She did it because she was probably worried about you, and she was probably lonely. You were lonely, too-- your friends lived miles away in the vast expanse of the suburbs, and your home was tucked into the fringes of soccer mom society. Your backyard was larger than most, and it was perfect for when you would host kickbacks with your friends. Recently, however, you had no reason to use the large space.

On Thursday, you decided to put down your phone for a while and play fetch with your dog. She was the biggest and fluffiest best friend you’d ever had, a german shepherd named Indie, short for Indiana, as in the archaeologist. You thought the name was fitting, because she could find almost anything with her nose-- you and your mom had trained her to do that a few summers ago.

Your mom had gone on a walk before you decided to play fetch with the dog. You had left your phone on the kitchen table. It wasn’t until the sun began to set and you felt your arm begin to ache when you noticed that she’d been gone for a while.

You gave Indie her stick, though she sniffed and whined at you stressfully. You frowned, and let her inside as you checked your phone. A few notifications from your friends’ group chat:

4:47pm

Kimi: Anybody else’s power go out?

Callie: omg i thought it was just Ohio!

Kimi: Nah, we got it in Connecticut, too.

Emily: New York, too!

They were asking if you had experienced the same thing.

6:48pm

Me: i didnt notice, i was playing with indie. wbu, sami?

Sami had moved to L.A., about two hours from your home, so you guys were able to hang out most weekends if you took the train or if she drove out to you. She didn’t even read the chat.

6:48pm

Me: bitch i know ur in quarantine smh read my message

[Kimi, Callie, and Emily liked your message!]

You dialed your mom’s number as you went to turn on the T.V., only to be met with static. You frowned, and surfed a few channels only to be met with more static before you turned it off. Her voicemail blared through your phone speakers, and that was when you started to worry.

You hung up, called your dad.

“Hey, honey!” He answered-- he must’ve been on break.

“Dad, did the power go out?”

“Yeah, for a couple minutes there. Did it happen at home, too?”

“Yeah…” You trailed off. Indie licked your hand, and whined some more. “Hey, mom’s not answering her phone and she’s been on a walk for a while. Like, three hours.”

“Huh.” Your dad let out a contemplative sigh. “Well, I’m sure she’ll be okay. Maybe she’s talking with the neighbors and her phone died.”

“Maybe.”

But maybe not. You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, and Indie could sense it as you sat on the couch. She slowly tried to inch her way into your lap, as she never really had a good idea of her own large size. You just let her and scratched her ear.

“Listen, honey, I gotta go. But we can make mac-n-cheese for dinner, how’s that sound?”

“Good, dad.” You said, biting your lip. “Okay, see you when you get home.”

Then, you hung up, and you waited for your mom.

[-]

When your dad got home, you went out to search for your mom. On your tour of the neighborhood, you came across others who had broken quarantine and were searching for their loved ones, too. Saying they went for a walk, or to the store and they didn’t come back.

Your dad remained the voice of reason, saying things like well maybe their phone died, or this is all just some big prank we’ll all laugh about later. You stayed silent.

[-]

Saturday was when your dad didn’t come home. His car was nowhere to be found, but you didn’t trust yourself to drive your mom’s car just yet. Or rather, you didn’t want to drive it because you didn’t want to be reminded that it was permanently vacant. You walked all the way to the store an hour after he was supposed to have gotten off. Manager Dan wasn’t there, either-- nobody had seen your dad at all that day; he was a no-call, no-show.

You walked all the way back home.

9:52pm

Me: my dad’s gone now too

10:05pm

Callie: fuck.

Callie: my sister…

10:06pm

Kimi: I still haven’t heard from Sami.

Emily: Yeah, me neither.

10:15pm

Me: we should check in every day with each other

[Callie and Emily liked your message!]

10:32

Me: Kimi?

[-]

It’s Thursday again.

Emily has stopped answering by now, and the frantic search parties that used to pass by your window every now and again have stopped, too. Even Twitter is quiet-- it seems with every passing day, more and more people go silent. As you lay on your bed with Indie at your feet, you keep refreshing your feed on every social media app, but nothing changes-- all of the posts are old. It feels like your world is shrinking while at the same time expanding into a terrifying void.

5:38pm

Me: callie?

Callie: im here.

You breathe a sigh of relief, which turns into a sob into your pillow.

5:39pm

Me: idk how long we’ll have wifi or even electricity.

Callie: my parents are still here. Come to ohio, seriously.

You bite your lip. You think about Sami, and how many times she pried the truth out of you when you were sad, how she was the only one who would sing with you at karaoke, how you promised to move to New York together.

5:39pm

Me: i have to find sami.

Callie: please just come here. We need to stick together.

Me: i’ll find sami and we’ll come to ohio. Then we go to NY to look for em and kimi.

5:45pm

Callie: okay. Please text.

Me: i will. I promise i’ll come to ohio.

You bite your lip, and glance at your phone’s percentage: 43%. You sigh, and put it on the charger while you go downstairs to scrounge for breakfast. You only woke up about two hours ago, though you can’t sleep much, anyways. You think to yourself how your mom would be scolding you for waking up so late.

As you eat the last poptart, Indie lays down on your feet. You toss her a couple crumbs, she eats them gratefully. You sigh, and look at your now empty pantry-- you have to try and go to the grocery store, whether you like it or not. You only have your permit, but you know that you’re a terrible driver. Still, you get up and put on shoes and grab your jacket. You probably don’t have to worry about cops or the law anymore, anyway-- you suspect everything has disappeared.

You look at yourself in the mirror; you didn’t think your outfit for the apocalypse would be sweatpants and a hoodie. With a sigh, you change into jeans and a long sleeve, layer a flannel on top of that, and your favorite jacket on top of that. It’s cold outside-- much colder than you’re used to.

Based on the incredible silence on Facebook, you figure that most of the adults have disappeared. As you drive further and further into town, you notice some obvious signs of looting from once pristine houses: trash littering lawns, doors left wide open. You get the haunting realization that you’re perhaps the only person left in your neighborhood. It’s amazing how quickly things can turn in just a few days.

When you pull up to the grocery store, you notice there’s only one other car there-- a white van, stationed by the curb and still running. You actually pull into a parking spot like some kind of society bootlicker, and cautiously put the car in park and turn off the engine.

You watch the van for a moment, slowly becoming hyper-aware of the very real possibility that you might run into robbers. Your stomach growls, and you take a deep breath. You should’ve brought Indie.

Grocery bags in hand, you exit your soccer mom minivan and lock it. Steeling your nerves, you put one foot in front of the other. As if on cue, two figures hurry out of the store, glancing behind them before they notice you. The automatic doors have long since stopped running, so they just pause in the doorway while you freeze on the curb, the fumes from the van tickling your nose.

They’re both boys holding bags you assume to be filled with groceries: both around your age, one of them has gray and black spiked hair, and eyes as wide and aware as an owl’s. The one next to him has dark, short, almost curly hair, and his gaze is calculating and cold.

You take a small step back, unsure of what to say. They seem just as apprehensive, when the van door slides open forcefully.

“Hey, what are you doing? Get in!” Another boy, this one of a larger build than the two in front of you with jet black spiked hair, snaps angrily.

“Kuroo, we have a situation.” The curly-haired boy says evenly, though he’s tense. His knuckles are white holding his bags.

“Huh?” The one who must be Kuroo says, and cranes his neck to the side to spot you. “Oh, shit.”

“U-um…” You stutter out, and you suddenly feel extremely cornered-- it’s three against one, and what if they want to take your car? What if they have some kind of weird cult and need a girl for breeding? “I’m just gonna get some-- some poptarts and leave.”

“Holy shit!!” The gray haired one seems to have broken out of his stupor, and he rushes over to you, dropping his bags and their contents on the ground in order to grab your shoulders. “Another person! A-a girl!”

“Yes, she’s a girl…” The curly-haired one sighs, puts his bags in the van and begins to gather up the other one’s forgotten groceries.

“First one I’ve seen in a while.” Kuroo grins and hops from the car to stand beside the gray-haired one who still hasn’t let go of you. You don’t have the balls to tell him to get off-- you’re not sure how dangerous these boys are. “How long have you been hiding out?”

“Come with us! We’re at the high school.” The gray-haired one beams-- how could he possibly be smiling?

You don’t know what to say, so you look away. Your voice seems to be caught in your throat, and that’s extremely frustrating-- but you’re not about to cry in front of these guys.

“Quit it, Bokuto.” The curly-haired one is eyeing you carefully, though not as if you’re a threat. He seems to be the only one that can actually sense your discomfort. The one that’s holding you-- Bokuto-- sighs, and lets you go, instead putting his hands on his hips.

“We should at least help her.” He points out, and grins down at you. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“She’s not gonna tell you. Let’s just go home.” Kuroo shrugs, and you cross your arms.

You tell them your name, if only to spite the taller one. He turns with a grin, and it only just occurs to you that perhaps, that was reverse-psychology. You huff, and look away with a little bit of a blush.

“Like I said, I just need to get poptarts and some other things and then I’m going back home.” You mutter.

“We’re wasting gas.” The curly-haired one calls, as he has already sat in the front seat.

“Hold on, Akaashi!” Bokuto calls. “Listen, there aren’t anymore poptarts in there. None whatsoever.”

Your heart breaks a little, but you keep it together.

“There’s, like, rice and stuff, but I think that’s it.” He shrugs, and turns to get into the van. You bite your lip-- might as well ask rather than waste your time wandering around all alone.

“Is there any dog food left?”

“Huh? Dog food?” Bokuto is right back in front of you. He and Kuroo speak at the same time:

“You’re gonna eat dog food?” Bokuto says. “You have a dog?” Kuroo says, and the two boys glare at each other.

“Yeah…” You say, though you still haven’t gotten an answer to your question. “I mean, I have a dog.”

“Yeah, it’s in aisle five.” You hear the one called Akaashi tell you, without even bothering to turn to look at you.

“I know that.” You snap-- your dad used to work in this store, you know it pretty damn well. Akaashi glances back at you then, probably a little surprised by your defensive tone. You huff, annoyed at yourself for being so touchy. These were the first people you met after about three straight weeks in quarantine, and they might be the only people left for miles. You need to play nice.

“My dad works here.” You explain, looking down at your shoes. Kuroo nods, exchanges a glance with Bokuto. “Well, he used to.”

A silence falls over the group-- they know. You all know, now, what it’s like to lose a parent, or any loved one, for that matter. You blink quickly to fight back any tears that might threaten to escape.

“We’re staying at Karasuno High-- it’s the high school near Flat Top.” Kuroo says. “If you want to join us, we’re kind of setting up camp there.”

“There’s more of us!” Bokuto explains. “We’re gonna find some mattresses after this to bring ‘em back so we can all stick together.”

“Oh, cool.” You say half-heartedly, unsure of why exactly they’re inviting you over as if it’s some kind of fun sleepover. “Wait, you guys went to Karasuno?”

“Yeah! You, too?” Bokuto lights up, and you look at the three boys a little closer, though you don’t seem to recognize them.

“Yeah… but I don’t think we were in the same circles.” You finally smile a little, albeit sadly, now that you’re remembering all the things you’ll never be able to return to now that school and society are essentially gone.

“You ever go to any volleyball games?” Kuroo asks, obviously encouraged by your smile. You shake your head.

Akaashi has exited the van by now with a sigh, coming to stand beside his two friends as he takes a look around. “We need to get going. If you want to join us, you know where to find us. But it’s gonna be dark soon.”

That seems to smack some sense into the other two, and they exchange glances with one another. Kuroo nods, Bokuto sighs, and the two get back into the van. Akaashi pauses, and you accidentally lock eyes with him.

His gaze betrays nothing, and you wonder for a moment how he ever became friends with these two. He reaches into the van, and pulls out a familiar blue cardboard box, gives it to you.

You take the poptarts, and glance up at him questioningly-- he puts a finger to his lips with just the hint of a smile. You smile back.

“Listen, it’s great you have a dog-- keep him close. And get home before it gets dark. And…” He glances to the side uneasily. “Get a baseball bat or something.”

A chill goes up your spine at that last part, and you frown, but nod to the boy in front of you anyways. He returns the nod, and gets in the back of the van. You both share a glance at each other one more time, and it feels as if he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. He just slides the door closed, and Bokuto waves to you out the window.

“Byee! Hopefully we’ll see you later-- hey, where’d you get those poptarts?!” Bokuto’s voice fades away as the van drives off, and you are once again left alone.

[-]

You gather a fair amount of stuff-- rope, for some reason is included in your loot. You always saw people in the movies get rope, so you figure you’ll find some use for it.

There aren’t any baseball bats, but you do find a hammer and a paring knife. It’s small, but better than nothing. You load up on the dog food, and even manage to haul two huge bags of kibble into your car. As you load it up, you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you. Even though you look around and make certain that you’re the only person present, the feeling doesn’t go away. You sort of wish you’d gone with those boys now.

You aren’t surprised when the street lights don’t turn on, but you take that as your signal to leave. Even though you want to scrounge for more supplies, you don’t want to risk it. Akaashi’s words of warning hang over your head like a humid fog.

As you drive home, you can’t stop chewing on your lip. Even with your headlights on, it’s hard to see, but you don’t want to turn on your brights and draw more attention to yourself. Just get home, lock the doors, and check in with Callie.

You park the car in your backyard because the garage door won’t open-- the power’s finally gone out. You close the backyard gate and lock it as soon as you’re out of the car, but somehow you still feel uneasy.

As you enter your dark home, you softly call out Indie’s name, and you hear her scamper up to you.

“Good girl,” You whisper, and scratch her ear. You decide to leave the larger groceries in the car for now, as you don’t want to go back outside and keep making trips of transferring the supplies into your house. For now, you need to sleep so that you can ignore the hunger in your belly and stretch out your rations just a little further.

Indie guides you up the stairs and into your bedroom as you set your bag down heavily. You come across your phone with dismay, finding that it hasn’t charged at all since you left, and is now at 7%. You bite your lip, and open up the almost abandoned group chat.

9:57pm

Me: callie im gonna come to ohio soon. I think we are gonna lose connection tho. Idk if this will even send, but ill see u in ohio. I love you.

The message doesn’t send. You shudder out a sigh, and you’re grateful when Indie nuzzles into your side.

Your phone finally shuts off, though it’s useless now, anyway. You crawl into your bed and Indie curls up next to you, and you fall into an uneasy sleep.

[-]

“Shh!”

You jolt awake at the hissing sound that’s coming from downstairs. Indie is tense and alert, and she licks your elbow. You sit up, and vaguely note the time: 3:37am.

There’s some shuffling, and you see the beam of what you assume to be a flashlight shakily illuminate the walls downstairs. You didn’t close your bedroom door when you came in, because you assumed that you were alone.

‘Stupid…’ You think to yourself as you grip Indie’s collar. She begins to growl, but you shush her quickly, though she flattens her ears back at you. Letting out a shaky breath, you crawl off of your bed as silently as you can manage, and reach for the hammer and paring knife in your bag.

Indie follows you as you venture into the hallway, and you perch behind the bars of your stairs as the hushed conversation down below becomes clearer.

“Just find whatever food you can and let’s go.” A deep male voice cuts through the silence.

“We need to check the car! There’s nothing here.” A stranger male voice answers, and giggles. “We should find the girl instead.”

You tense, and grip the hammer a little tighter.

“I don’t care about her. I just want her stuff.” The deep voice asserts, and you wonder what you should do next. Storm downstairs and hammer them to death? You’ve never fought anybody before, let alone killed someone. Your hands are becoming clammy, and you don’t notice the pregnant pause in the conversation downstairs.

It isn’t until you see a head of brown hair come into view that you’re snapped from your thoughts. Indie can’t help herself-- she barks, and bolts down the stairs before you can stop her. The two boys yell in surprise, and you watch as she tackles the tall one with brown hair. Meanwhile, the other one comes into view-- he has large, droopy eyes with spiked red hair, and he looks excited when he catches sight of you.

“There she is!” He coos, and begins to walk upstairs. You gasp, and you know in this split second that your home is no longer yours-- you need to get away. In one fluid motion, you run into your room to grab your single bag of groceries. It’s heavy, but you don’t notice as adrenaline rushes through your veins.

When you turn to run down the stairs, the red-head catches you by both of your upper arms. He licks his chapped lips, and your knee jerks out to hit his groin. He yelps and doubles over, and you fly down the stairs.

“Indie!” You whistle, and she actually bounds from the living room over the couch, to skid by your side. You swipe the car keys off the counter, rip the sliding glass door open, and use the fob to unlock the car. You open the passenger for Indie, she leaps in as you toss the bag and your hammer and knife in behind her, you slam the door closed, and hop over the hood of the car.

As you turn to open the driver’s side door, you watch as the red-head runs in slow motion from your stairs to the exit to your backyard. You don’t breathe or shake as you turn the ignition, throw the car in reverse, then drive, and plow through your flimsy backyard gate as you push your little soccer van to its limits.

Tires skid as you swerve onto the street, and you press down so hard on the gas, that a few minutes later, you don’t register that you’re going 90 miles an hour in the suburbs. Houses pass you at incredible speed, and you ease up on the pedal when Indie licks your cheek. You stare straight ahead, and subconsciously, you drive towards your high school. Those three boys were nice to you-- they warned you, and you didn’t listen. They even tried to help you and include you, and you flat out denied them.

You slam on the brakes as you turn into Karasuno High’s parking lot. It’s only now that you realize that you didn’t fasten your seat belt, and you shut off the car with a shaky breath. The front of the school looms over you, and you wonder for a moment if they’re even here-- was it all a joke? What if they turn you away because you were such a bitch earlier? No matter how many scenarios you run through your head, you come to the same conclusion every time: you can’t go back home, and you’re already here, so you may as well investigate. You grab your hammer and get out of the car, and Indie follows behind. You close and lock the doors, pocketing the keys, and turn towards the school you’ve known for three and a half years.

The front gates are locked, of course. You wander the perimeter of the school, Indie trotting beside you the whole way. The school looks different in the dark-- it feels different, too. It’s like you’re walking in a dream, or some sort of in-between space. You shouldn’t be awake, and you definitely shouldn’t be here, but you are. It’s strange. Everything is bathed in moonlight, so it’s all a very specific shade of blue that makes you feel like you’re underwater.

You come upon the gym in the back of the school, and you’re startled to hear voices coming from inside. You tip-toe up to the doors, and Indie sniffs curiously.

“If your leg gets cut off, would it hurt?”

“Please just go to sleep.”

“Duh!” A third voice chimes in, and the second voice groans.

“How, though?” The first voice presses.

“‘Cause your leg got cut off, dumbass.” Third voice answers.

“Where’re you gonna feel the pain?”

“In your leg…” The third voice trails off.

“Exactly, man. How’re you gonna feel the pain in your leg if--”

“--if your leg is gone?!” The first and third voice finish together, and you hear the second person groan.

“I’m going outside.” He says, and as his voice gets louder, you stumble away from the door just as it opens.

You blink rapidly and your jaw drops-- Akaashi stands in front of you, brows furrowed and eyes wide. You can’t believe they’re actually here.

“Akaashi?” Someone calls from inside. Akaashi opens his mouth to respond, but glances at Indie when she sniffs his hand curiously. He pets her absent-mindedly as his gaze wanders back to yours.

Bokuto and Kuroo pop up behind him a second later, and they’re just as surprised as Akaashi. Indie sniffs them in turn, and her tail begins to wag.

You drop your hammer with a thud, and sniffle like a toddler before letting out a sob you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“C-can I stay with you?”

#haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfiction #haikyu fanfiction #akaashi x reader #kuroo x reader #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #bokuto x reader #reader insert #haikyuu x reader #slow burn

19 notes · View notes

ronninoir · 4 years

Text

Can I Steal You for a Second? CH5

Summary: Adrien is forced to participate in a new dating show, but becomes more excited when Ladybug says she’ll participate as her civilian self.

AKA: AU where Adrien doesn’t know Marinette, the superheroes are 22 and Gabriel is mean and ruthless but not Hawkmoth.

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Chapter 5

So. Many. Girls. The first handful of girls went by so quickly and wowed him with many different ways of introducing themselves, that he really didn’t know what was happening most of the time. One girl came in doing backflips and actually did a pretty impressive job, even in heels. Another girl came in a wedding dress, veil and all. One girl had even shown up in a fencing outfit, which was super cool and Adrien was able to show off some of his hard-earned fencing skills from high school.

He noticed a common theme with the dress colors (with the exception of the wedding dress), as almost every girl was wearing some shade of either red, green, or black. Someone must have let slip that he was a fan of Ladybug and Chat Noir, because everyone from France was sporting something resembling the superheroes.

Even if some of the entrances had been fun, Adrien had only met about half of the girls (or so he was told, he was having trouble keeping track) when he became very overwhelmed with the number. While waiting for a limo to produce a new girl for Adrien to meet, Chris came up to ask Adrien how he was doing.

“How am I supposed to remember all of these names?” Adrien asked, panic clearly heard in his voice.

Chris gave a light chuckle. “We’re here to help you with that. Once you go into the cocktail party, don’t be afraid to ask the girls to remind you of their name. The producers will also be there to help you. We have picture cards with their names on them to help you when you need.”

Adrien relaxed a little at that. “Picture cards. People are here to help me. I can do this. It can be done,” he mumbled to Plagg, who was yawning from Adrien’s pocket.

“I don’t know why you would want to remember their names. They’re all so boring.” Plagg gave another exaggerated yawn. “When do I get my cheese.”

“Later. Right now, you’re supposed to be on the lookout for Ladybug.” Adrien huffed. He could see the next limo rounding the corner and quickly stood up straighter.

Plagg rolled his eyes at that. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

When the limo stopped, Adrien noticed that there seemed to be music coming out of it. He looked around trying to find the source, but no one behind the cameras were looking confused. Finally, he pinpointed the sound to be coming from the limo itself. No other limos had been playing music, and Adrien was instantly intrigued as to why this one was different.

The girl who walked out of the limo was average height, had long blonde hair and a sweet smile. She was carrying a box of some kind and a microphone and Adrien was pretty sure that’s where the sound was coming from. Before he could open his mouth to say hello, she began to sing, karaoke-style. Her voice wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t terrible either. Adrien didn’t recognize the song, but it clearly was some type of love song.

As awkward as this was, Adrien respected the girl for putting herself out there like that. It was an interesting way of being greeted and he was excited that someone that bold would do something like that. Adrien couldn’t help as a smile spread across his face. She sang for about 30 seconds before she smiled and turned the music off.

Adrien politely clapped, “Wow! I’m Adrien. That was awesome and so brave what you just did!”

“Thank you! I’m Hanna and I’m from Camembert, France and I’m so excited to finally meet you!” Hanna rushed out, taking Adrien’s hand and giving him a one-armed hug. When she pulled away, Adrien could feel Plagg vibrating with excitement in his shirt pocket. So much for boring.

“Camembert, huh? Like the cheese?”

“Yeah! My parents are farmers.” Hanna responded with a smile. Adrien really needed this conversation to be over, because if it wasn’t over soon, Plagg was actually going to ask this girl if she could be his new miraculous holder. And that was no way to out himself as Chat Noir. Of all the farm towns in France, this girl just had to be from Camembert.

“Oh, I’d love to hear more! We can talk more inside.” Adrien responded as he moved her down the pathway that lead to the mansion.

As soon as she was out of sight, Plagg squealed. “Marry her. She’s the one. That’s your soulmate. We need to ask her to see the camembert and where it is made, like now.”

“Plagg,” Adrien groaned. “I can’t just pick a winner on the first night. This is a process. Calm down, or no actual, physical camembert later.”

Plagg just sighed and responded with a, “If you kick her out tonight I’m leaving with her.”

Adrien was thankful for the distraction of a new limo. Once it stopped, a gorgeous dark-haired girl stepped out. She had on this beautiful blue dress that was the exact shade of her eyes. She was smaller, but her smile was dazzling. As she walked up to him, Adrien forgot how to talk.

“Ummm, wow. I mean, hi. I’m Adrien.”

“I know,” she giggled. He felt his face grow red. Of course she knew who he was, he was a famous model and very well broadcasted for this show.

“Can I just say, uh, wow you look amazing.” Adrien finally managed to get out.

“Thank you,” she responded with a sly smile. “You look purr-fect tonight, as well.”

Adrien’s jaw dropped. “Did you—was that a...”

“I’m so glad that I finally got to meet you Adrien, as I am pawsitive that this relationship will go far.”

Adrien just stood there with his mouth wide open and he couldn’t remember how to breathe, much less say words or carry on a conversation with this girl.

“Honestly,” she continued on, smirking at his reaction to her puns, “is there Wifi around here, because I’m feline a strong connection between us.” She shot him a smile and a wink, patted his shoulder and said, “I’ll see you inside,” before walking up the pathway.

“But—wait I—” Adrien made to stop her but was too slow to react. He watched her walk away, shocked and elated and still very red from the encounter. He turned back toward the driveway and said to the crew, “I didn’t even get her name.”

He could hear slight chuckling from them as they all turned to get ready for the next limo to arrive.

“I just—Plagg, what—Pick-up lines AND cat puns? Wow, where has that girl been all my life?” Plagg just sighed and turned over in Adrien’s pocket, clearly not impressed. He could have sworn that he murmured, “But she’s not from Camembert,” but Adrien couldn’t be sure.

----------------------------------------------------

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Marinette scolded herself quietly, to where only Tikki could hear. There were sitting in the corner of the room, Marinette with a glass of red wine blocking her mouth from onlookers as she spoke. “I can’t believe I forgot to give him my name. My name for Christ’s sake! Now he’s never going to remember who I am and he’ll send me home tonight and my whole plan will be ruined.” Marinette sighed exasperatedly.

Tikki patted Marinette’s chest in a comforting way, “It’ll be okay, Marinette! Just make sure you mention your name when you talk to him later tonight.” Although her words were encouraging it was clear that Tikki was struggling to hold back a laugh.

Marinette shot her a look. “You’re laughing at me,”

“No, I’m not.” she replied quickly, biting her lip to keep a giggle from escaping.

“Tikki! This is not funny! I would have made a really memorable entrance if it weren’t for the fact that I didn’t even tell him my name!” Marinette’s voice had gotten a little loud at that (the alcohol was affecting her volume control) but thankfully at just that moment, a new girl bust into the room and began sobbing. Everyone rushed to her side, including Marinette, needing to know what had forced the girl to break down into tears.

“He—barely—even—talked to me!” She sobbed. There were girls rubbing her back and bringing her some water and generally trying to console her. A camera crew had followed close behind as she entered and was recording the whole thing. “He—kept—spacing—out” she took a deep breath and a gulp of the water and continued in a steadier voice, “It’s as if he was thinking of something else and didn’t have the head space to listen to me.” At that, her lip trembled and her sobs started over again.

The girl, who Marinette quickly learned was named Anna and was one of the girls from Sweden, pieced together the rest of her entrance with all of the girls listening intently, no doubt comparing theirs to hers. He kept murmuring about puns, and didn’t even bat an eye when she dropped a (rather provocative) pick-up line on him.

“I just don’t know what I could have done to make him dislike me this early,” Anna eventually got out.

Marinette couldn’t stand it anymore. She quickly walked away to get a fresh drink (they were allowed two an hour after all, but she had really only planned on drinking one more) and converse more with Tikki.

“Oh my gosh, Tikki, did I do that?” Tikki just gave Marinette a small giggle and a nod. “But, how?”

“You were too nervous to see his face like I did Marinette! He was awestruck with you! He even tried to chase after you and right after you were gone told the camera crew that he didn’t even get your name in an awestruck voice. What you thought that was a bad thing, he saw it more intriguing.” Tikki politely explained before breaking into a smile and a giggle. “You impressed him so much, he forgot to be nice to the girl after you.”

Marinette heard the distinct clack of heels coming her way and she quickly shushed Tikki and began walking towards the door.

“Hey, you’ve got to come see this! Anna is demanding another chance to talk to Adrien and we can see it all go down from the windows!” The girl quickly ran off and Marinette followed.

Sure enough, Anna was standing there waiting for the girl who was currently talking to Adrien to finish. Clearly, he had recovered, and since Marinette didn’t see any other new faces, she assumed it was because the producers took a minute to talk to him before the next girl showed up.

“God there she goes,” Lila announced to the group in a none-too-pleasant voice. She looked absolutely ridiculous, by the way, completely decked out in a full Gabriel wedding dress. It was much more provocative than a normal Gabriel wedding dress (which Marinette knew nothing about, of course), with her boobs almost completely hanging out and the bodice and skirt hugging her curves to her knees. From there it flared out and had an exaggeratedly long train and even a veil that sat perched on head, held there by a tiara. Marinette’s inner designer was appalled that someone could do that to a Gabriel original, as it had been clearly altered, but Marinette also wasn’t in charge. Thankfully, it just made Lila look gaudy and like she was trying too hard, rather than an actual bride.

Anna was indeed walking up to Adrien, a little bit of a fire lit beneath her. Adrien noticed the movement from behind and turned to see her. It was obvious that he was confused, but he hid it really well with a smile and said, “Hi, is there something wrong in the house?”

Anna was taken back by his kind voice and you could see some of the fire in her go out. She gave him a soft smile and said, “I just, didn’t feel as though I introduced myself well enough earlier. You seemed a bit out of it, so I wanted to try again.”

The producers in the background were waving the next limo off to allow the cameras a chance to get all of Anna and Adrien’s conversation.

She introduced herself and Adrien was able to respond with the correct questions and even blushed when she delivered her pick-up line again. Satisfied, she gave a sexy, “See you inside,” and then turned on her heel back towards the mansion. The girls around the window, including Marinette, quickly scattered. Even though it wasn’t against the rules to spy on her, they didn’t want Anna to find out and be upset.

“Wow, if this is what the rest of the show is going to be like, you have your work cut out for you!” Tikki whispered. Marinette couldn’t help but agree.

The next hour was very uneventful, besides a girl named Celeste showing up in her family’s helicopter. The girls had recently been gently guided to go sit on a certain set of couches, and Marinette made sure she was sitting on the very edge right next to the doorway. She then took a minute to count how many girls were gathered.

“What are you doing?” Hanna asked. She had come in right before Marinette did and once she found her, she hadn’t left her side. Marinette was grateful, as she was easier to talk to since they had already become friends before they arrived at the mansion that day. It took a lot of the pressure off of making friends tonight and allowed Marinette to enjoy the event more.

“I’m counting.” Marinette explained. “If there are 30 of us in here, Adrien is going to be coming inside soon. If not, I want to know how many more girls we have coming before we get to see him again.”

“Ooh that’s so smart!” Hanna responded. She let Marinette finished counting before she asked, “How many?”

“29.” Marinette said glumly. It was already nearing 10:30 and they still hadn’t even gotten past introductions. How much longer was this night going to take?

At that moment, a new girl walked into the area and was given a glass and told to sit down on the edge of the couch. A couple of girls began a conversation with the newest one while most of the others were engaged in a conversation about Adrien. They kept gushing about what he had said, what he was wearing, how handsome he was, and on and on. Marinette loved the guy too (very literally) but she didn’t want to spend the entire night talking about him.

Thankfully, a hush began to fall over the girls as Adrien himself walked into the door next to Marinette. He gave an awkward smile as all eyes fell on him. A girl, Marinette thought her name was Zoe, handed Adrien a drink and he held onto it but didn’t take a sip.

“Good evening ladies,” he began, and Marinette heard half of the room swoon. “It has been a blast meeting you this evening. I’m very excited to be able to further conversations with you all” his eyes scanned the group of girls and landed directly on Marinette. She felt herself blush under his gaze. “So, with that being said, to good conversations and an enlightening night.” He raised his glass, and all of the girls followed suit with a slightly shrill “Cheers!”

Marinette didn’t even bother taking a sip before she was on her feet walking towards Adrien. She gave him a dazzling smile and said as sweetly as she could, “Can I steal you for a second?”

Adrien’s smile seemed to widen as he responded with an, “Of course,” and allowed himself to be whisked away by Marinette and a camera crew. She walked the two of them outside to where there were various couches and patio furniture set up for this specific reason. Once they both sat down, Marinette paused, not knowing how to begin this conversation. Thankfully, she didn’t have to.

“Okay, I’ve been dying to know. What is your name and where have you been all my life?” Adrien was staring at her as if she hung the moon and was just so in awe. Tikki had been right after all.

Marinette gave a soft laugh and responded with, “Marinette. It’s nice to officially meet you, Adrien.” She took a chance and shot him a wink, which made him blush and laugh at the same time. Marinette counted that as a win.

Adrien grabbed Marinette’s hand and brought it up to his lips, “The honor is all mine, Princess.” She blushed at the nickname and the fact that he gave a light kiss on her hand. He gently put her hand down, but didn’t remove it from his grasp. “So, Ms. Master-of-Puns, where are you from?”

Marinette began to laugh again and was overtaken by just how amazing Adrien is. She was slightly worried how he would act when she met him, not only because of the show, but also because of the fact that he is a very wealthy famous model who has been raised a certain way. She always heard Chat complain on his father and how strict he is about his behavior, but tonight she wasn’t seeing any of that. Most of this behavior, specifically the hand kissing and the nickname calling, was very Chat Noir of him and it made Marinette’s heart go crazy.

“I’m actually from Paris.” She responded with a smile. “And I’m not a master of puns. I actually don’t even like puns.” At that, Adrien looked offended. He had placed his hand over his heart in a very Chat-like dramatic gesture. She couldn’t help but giggle and shrug. “Sorry, I just prefer different types of humor.”

“But puns are the most punderful form of comedy!” Adrien responded with a wink. Marinette gave him an eyeroll and a groan. At that he laughed. “What part of Paris are you from?”

“I live in Palais-Bourbon. My parents own the Dupain-Cheng Bakery.” At the mention of the bakery, Adrien’s eyes lit up.

“Oh my gosh! I drive past that bakery all the time! I’ve never been inside because father never lets me eat sweets, but it always looks so busy. Your parents must be amazing bakers. You must be an amazing baker.”

Marinette smiled, thinking of her parents. “They really are. And I’m not as good as my Papa, but everything I make is edible, so there’s that.”

“I bet you’re better than you give yourself credit for.” Adrien gave her a warm smile and she became suddenly aware of how close he was sitting to her and how close his face was from hers. It wouldn’t take much for her to lean forward and kiss him (something she’s been dreaming of for years). He looked like he might close the gap himself when the clicking of heels was heard and someone cleared their throat.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Adrien, can I steal you for a second?” Marinette sighed and turned to give Lila the best smile she could muster at the moment and excused herself. But not before leaning in and giving Adrien a peck on the cheek. As she walked away, she took a chance and glanced back at him. She was very satisfied to see that he was watching her walk away while Lila was adjusting her train and making herself comfortable on the couch in Marinette’s place.

She sighed and walked back into the group area only to be met with a number of unfriendly looks. Slightly bothered by the stares, she took a quick glance, noticed Hanna wasn’t there and walked back towards the kitchen. Hanna was there, deep in conversation with another girl. Marinette walked up to them and gave her friend a warm smile.

Hanna turned to face Marinette with excitement in her eyes. “Hi, Marinette, how was it?”

“It was really nice. Adrien is super sweet and our conversation was really easy.” Marinette glanced around the room to see if anyone else was in there. She then gave the other girl a little bit of a look, trying to decide if she was trustworthy. Hanna, picking up on her hesitation, jumped in.

“Oh, how silly of me! I let my excitement get the better of my manners! Marinette, this is Juliette. Juliette this is—”

“Marinette, yeah.” Juliette cut in, the tone of her voice unfamiliar. Her voice wasn’t as friendly as Hanna’s was, but it also wasn’t full of contempt; it was somewhere in between. “You’re the girl who ruined Anna’s entrance and stole Adrien before he was done with his toast.” Oh. So that’s what all of the dirty looks were for. Someone had figured out that Marinette had arrived right before Anna and therefore she was the one who had caused that whole scene. Suddenly, Marinette was especially glad that Hanna was such an open and friendly person. Otherwise, no one would be on her side. Besides Tikki, but she didn’t count.

“Umm, yeah I guess. I didn’t do that to Anna on purpose though. I... uh... accidentally forgot to tell Adrien my name and apparently that left him a little stunned.” She buried her face in her hands to hide her blush.

“Oh, Marinette, that’s not your fault!” Hanna said encouragingly. She had automatically began rubbing Marinette’s back when she had ducked her head and the motion was very comforting.

Juliette, however, was not convinced. “Why did you grab him so quickly, then, if you were so embarrassed?”

“I didn’t want him to keep going through the night and not even know what my name is. I figured if I grabbed him first, I could tell him and then it wouldn’t be like I forgot it in the first place.” Marinette felt very small in that moment and it had nothing to do with her height. How in the world was she going to survive this if all of the girls hated her for her clumsiness and forgetfulness?

Hanna continued to reassure Marinette that everything was fine, but she didn’t take her eyes off of Juliette. Slowly, Juliette’s face softened and she gave Marinette a minuscule smile. “What did you want to tell us?”

Marinette relaxed and checked the room again for unwanted listeners. The only people around were their camera crew, and they didn’t seem like they were going anywhere. “Well, we started talking and he began to get really close to me and before we knew it our faces were so close he could have kissed me.” The other girls gasped with excitement.

Hanna was the one to react first. “Oh my gosh did you kiss him?!” She yelled. Marinette quickly shushed her and glanced toward the doorway. After a few seconds, when no one had come barging through the doorframe, she looked back at their little group.

“Not so loudly!” She chastised. “No, he didn’t kiss me. Lila came and interrupted right as he was going to.”

“No!” Both girls gasped. Marinette nodded to confirm.

“That girl is trouble.” Juliette said with a frown. The fact that Juliette was not taken by Lila’s fakeness was refreshing and made Marinette want to befriend and trust Juliette more. Honestly, it was probably going to take an army of them to take Lila down during the show, and it was never too early to start recruiting troops.

“Let’s just see how tonight goes before we start making conclusions about people,” Marinette responded with a pointed look in Juliette’s direction. She had the decency to blush and break eye contact with her before Hanna steered the conversation back to whatever they were talking about when Marinette walked up.

Marinette excused herself to the bathroom, knowing that it was the only place the cameras couldn’t follow. Once inside one of the 9 bathrooms of the mansion, she let Tikki out of her bra and reminded her to whisper as they could record sound through the doors.

“What do you think I should do, Tikki? It’s been a whirlwind of a night and we aren’t even done yet. And I don’t trust Lila to not start something once she’s done with Adrien.”

Tikki nodded in agreement. “Yes, there’s something about her I just don’t like.” Tikki paused to think before letting out a little gasp. “Marinette! I have an idea! I could float around the mansion and scope out things for you. You can hang around the other girls and try to make friends and mingle, while I scope out the mansion, specifically watch Lila and what she does tonight.”

“Tikki that’s brilliant! Thank you!” She gave her kwami a hug and Tikki gave her a wink before phasing through the wall out into the fray. Marinette flushed the toilet for the sake of appearances and checked her hair and make-up in the mirror before walking back out towards the kitchen. She got herself a fresh drink and situated herself in the main couch area where most of the girls were still sitting. The room quieted a little when she came in, but she noticed a slightly familiar face and went to talk with her.

“Sasha, right?” She said as she sat next to the dark-skinned girl. She was wearing a beautiful forest green dress and her hair was in a contained afro. She was breathtaking and drew the attention of the room easily. “You’re a model.”

Sasha gave her a bright smile and nodded. “Yes, I remember you. You were in my group during the audition photoshoots. I’m glad you got cast.”

“Same for you. How has your evening been?” The small talk continued between the two girls and Sasha began opening up to her and introducing her to the other girls around. They seemed to be more relaxed around Marinette now and the dirty looks soon became a rarity. Marinette watched girl after girl be instructed by the producers to go butt in to another girl’s time with Adrien. Most of them waited a respectful amount of time, while others only got a couple of minutes because of pushier girls.

Sasha had gotten up to get her and Marinette another drink when Marinette noticed Tikki hiding behind one of the beams in the ceiling. She quickly glanced around and sped towards Marinette, hoping nobody noticed a red blob flying.

“What do you have?” Marinette barely whispered.

“Lila. She’s on the move again. She looks as though she is going to try to get more time with Adrien again.”

“That’s not fair! Some girls haven’t even had their time yet.”

“I know! That’s why I’m telling you! You need to get girls moving. I’m going to be watching Lila, but we’re going to need someone to interrupt Lila and quickly.”

Marinette gave a slight nod and noticed that Sasha was on her way back towards her. She stood up and met her halfway, taking the drink that was offered to her (peer pressure with drinking was a real issue here in the mansion and it was only night one). “So, a little birdie told me that Lila is going in for another round with Adrien.”

Sasha looked appalled, as did the other girls around who heard Marinette’s statement. One girl, Camille, ran towards the window and gasped. Sure enough, Lila was seen strutting in her stupid wedding dress towards Adrien for a second time. Sasha and some of the others were fuming.

“She’s already had her time with him and some of us haven’t had any.” Sasha huffed. “This is very unfair.” She began pacing around the room a little, never straying too far from the window. After about a minute of strained silence, Sasha stopped pacing suddenly, squared her shoulders and announced to the group, “I’m going in.” There were whoops and hollers. One girl yelled, “Go catch a bitch,” as she walked out the room. They all gathered around the window to watch the show.

----------------------------------------------------

Adrien was exhausted. It was nearing midnight and he hadn’t even had real conversations with half of the girls here. They kept making him do odd things and he had consumed more alcohol than his father had ever let him see before. He was running out of words to say and it was frustrating that the cameras caught every conversation as he couldn’t even go on autopilot for the girls he knew weren’t Ladybug.

At that moment, he was in the middle of a conversation with a girl who he was pretty sure was named Lauren, but he wasn’t sure. It was another girl who was trying to impress him with her superhero knowledge and Adrien was just about to signal for another girl to be told to cut in (he had made a signal with his Mini-Natalie so that way he could get through the night quicker) when he caught something white out of the corner of his eye.

Lauren stopped talking and turned towards the disruption and her jaw dropped. Adrien then shifted and saw Lila walking towards him.

“So sorry to interrupt,” Lila purred to the couple as she got closer, “but Adrien, can I steal you for a second?” She gave him a suggestive smile and he felt his cheeks color. Something felt wrong here but he couldn’t figure it out.

“Um, sure.” He responded, trying not to sound too put-off. He turned towards Lauren (honestly, he didn’t think that was her name) and said, “I’ll see you later?” before following Lila to a different part of the mansion.

It wasn’t until she sat down on a chair that he remembered why this felt wrong. I’ve already talked with her tonight! He had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at her but instead put on his best model smile and dove into a conversation that he was sure to be a boring one.

----------------------------------------------------

Marinette was over this whole thing. It was nearing 1am and besides Lila cutting in on THREE separate occasions, nothing super interesting had happened. The girl who had gotten her time cut by Lila the first time, Laura, had approached Lila and they had an argument. It was uneventful and (sadly) made Lila look like the innocent one with the way that Laura was going at her.

Marinette stifled a yawn and forced herself to stand up from the couch she was on. If she sat down for much longer, she would fall asleep for sure. Right as she stood up though, the host, an American named Chris Harrison, came into the room where she was at with a rose.

All of the girls in the room, there were about 10, stopped talking and he gave them a smile. “Excuse me ladies. I’m just going to leave this right here.” He walked out without another word.

Chatter broke out across the group and the room was filled with a renewed energy. “Oh my gosh look how pretty it is!” “I would love to get the first rose!” “Who do you think is going to walk away with it?”

Marinette just stared at the rose. The first impression rose. This was the one that goes to the girl that made the best first impression on Adrien. Even though some part of her wanted to get that rose so badly, another part didn’t want to have to deal with the repercussions. If accidentally ruining another girl’s limo entrance brought all of these bad looks upon her, what would getting the first impression rose do? She was just trying to survive now, not stand out just yet.

Word got around quickly that the rose had appeared and everyone came flocking into the room to admire it. Marinette quickly excused herself and stayed away from the room for as long as possible. She was grateful when a producer asked if this would be a good time to interview her about the night. She quickly agreed and followed them to a small room they had set-up.

They asked her question upon question about the night. Having her pretend that it was right after her limo entrance, as all of the girls were showing up, right before the first toast with Adrien, right after her chat with Adrien, right after Lila stole Adrien for the second and third time. She pretty much just recounted all of her feelings throughout the whole night for the camera and sighed and smiled and got angry (or as best as she could do in her tired state) and she made a lot of odd sounding phrases that the producers were eating up. She had accidently said that Lila, “was making a huge mistake” and that, “the other girls shouldn’t hold my height against me because big firecrackers come in small packages” in her sleep-deprived state and they loved all of them.

Before she knew it, she was being rushed into the room with the rose and was asked to sit around patiently for Adrien. After about 5 minutes he came walking in with a smile.

“Hi ladies,” Every girl swooned. “Tonight has been amazing and I have had so much fun getting to talk to all of you more. But, there is one girl who has stood out tonight and I would like to honor her by giving her the first rose of the season.” He paused dramatically and Marinette could actually here every single girl holding their breath. Adrien’s eyes scanned the room before they landed on hers. She felt her face blush and saw the people nearest her shooting her dirty looks. “Marinette, will you accept this rose?”

Marinette stood from the group and walked towards him. She was smiling and giddy and nervous and just plain ecstatic that he had picked her first. Once she reached him, she put her hand on the rose and smiled, getting lost in those beautiful green eyes. “Of course.” She gave him a quick hug and then headed back towards the group. The stares were intense, but she was determined not to let that bother her. Plus, it was very entertaining to see the look on Lila’s face. She looked both offended, hurt, and mad all at once.

Once Marinette was seated, Adrien continued talking to the group. “Thank you, ladies, for an amazing first night and I have some really hard decisions to make. So, I guess I’ll see you at the rose ceremony.” He gave the group a mini-bow and then was whisked off to who-knows-where. Victoria then walked out and told everyone that they had an hour to eat, freshen up and get ready for the ceremony. They would meet back in this room at a quarter til’ 3 and then they would line them up in the order that they needed to come into the rose ceremony.

She gave everyone a pointed look before she said, “This is the only time tonight that there won’t be cameras on you. Be mindful of what you do and do not confront or stir up trouble with another girl before we meet back here. Save that for the cameras.” She began to walk away but turned back suddenly and added, “Also, no more drinks will be served. Some of you girls need to sober up before the rose ceremony.” At that she left the girls alone.

----------------------------------------------------

The hardest part of the night was over, or at least what they kept telling him. Choosing Marinette to have the first impression rose was easy, so he assumed that deciding who else would get roses would be just as easy as well.

That was where Adrien had been wrong.

He had 20 minutes before he had to be out there presenting roses and he had only chosen 5 girls to keep. He just kept staring at the faces of the girls he just met and just kept thinking that one of them was Ladybug but he just didn’t know which one. The producers were trying to allow him to make this decision on his own, but he could tell they were itching to jump in and help him. Mini-Natalie stood in the corner giving frequent time reminders and also having stylist come in every once in a while to fix his hair or make-up or straiten his outfit. His suit coat was currently being steamed and would be returned before he made an appearance on camera again.

Plagg, of course, only had one opinion. He had already put Hanna in the keep pile solely to keep Plagg from throwing a fit. Adrien owed him a very large piece of camembert after tonight because he honestly had been really well-behaved. However much he wished he had some sort of opinion.

“None of these girls stood out to you?” Adrien asked Plagg in a hurried whisper. He had about 2 minutes before the producers came back to bug him and he needed something. “Just point me in the right direction of Ladybug, please,” he begged.

Plagg swept his eyes over the pictures and then looked at Adrien. “Sorry kid. I don’t see a Ladybug in there.” At this, Adrien gave a frustrated sigh and then turned back towards the producers.

“Okay, I give up. Help, please.” They were creepily prepared. One thrust a list at Adrien that was titled, “Allowed to Move on to Week 1” and it looked suspiciously like something his father had Natalie type up. When he inquired about where this paper came from, none of the people helping him would look him in the eye.

Finally, one caved. “Adrien, your father has put up a lot of money and has a lot riding on this particular show...” he began and Adrien turned away from the table trying to hold back a growl. He crumpled up the paper in the process and threw it on the ground. The producer continued to talk, but was gentler and more hesitant than before. “He pre-approved some girls as people he would approve of and even picked your top four for you. Of course, you’re allowed to make your own decisions, but if your father doesn’t have at least one of his favorites in the top, he’s going to pull the plug on the show.”

Adrien glanced behind him and saw the nervous looks on all of the people in the room. Even Mini-Natalie looked worried. He should have expected this, honestly. He controls everything else in Adrien’s life, why not his first chance as a dating life as well. He gave a resigned sigh before picking up the crumpled paper from the place where he threw it. He flattened it out and actually took a good look at it. Most of the girls on here weren’t horrible, except for Lila, but he had had a feeling the producers would have wanted her to stay solely for the drama she created.

He randomly picked all but 8 girls on the list, leaving only the ones that utterly bored him and the one named Chloe, as he couldn’t give her a fair shot. Chloe Bourgeois ruined that name for him.

As soon as the last name was sorted, he was whisked away. He caught glimpses of things as he was moved from room to room: someone setting up the roses, the girls being lined up in an order, camera people repositioning themselves in the rose ceremony room. Adrien was handed a list of the girls he chose to give roses to tonight, stashed in a room no bigger than a closet with his hair and make-up crew and was told not to move. They had 5 minutes before the ceremony was to start and he had to be perfect.

His main goal was to memorize the names. The problem was there were so many of them and it was all so much for the night. Panicking, he grabbed a pen and began writing all of the names down on his hand in the order he was to say them. Thankfully, his handwriting was small enough to fit two lines on his palm. Right as he was finishing up, Mini-Natalie came in to take him away. She raised her eyebrows at the new addition to his hands but didn’t comment.

A lady was talking to all of the girls, telling them that they are to start at the far end of the risers and line up in order. The cameras would film them coming in and then Adrien would enter and begin the ceremony. He was expected to make a small speech and then begin passing out roses.

The girls are sent in and the tension between them all is palpable. Adrien is so nervous he’s sweating and he keeps blowing on his palm so the names don’t run. After all of the girls are settled, Mini-Natalie gives him the cue to walk inside.

Man, these girls did an amazing job of looking pretty. Between the light and the time allowed to reapply make-up and freshen up before the ceremony, he had forgotten how gorgeous they all were. Marinette is positioned right in front of him on the edge. She is beaming with her rose in hand and Adrien has a hard time keeping his eyes off of her. All of the girls are smiling expectantly at him and he remembers he has to make a speech.

He clears his throat and begins. “Well, ladies, I just want to say how thankful I am for each and every one of you for stepping out and taking a chance on this, on us.” Mini-Natalie had made him memorize this speech a week ago and he was at ease reciting it. “I know this is going to be difficult but I hold out hope that each rose ceremony gets me closer to mila— uh, the future Mrs. Agreste.” Whoops. He was going to hear about that mess-up later. None of the girls seemed to notice though, and he wondered how much they were actually paying attention. They probably just wanted to know if he had picked them or not.

“I’ve truly enjoyed the conversation with you all tonight and I honestly think my soulmate is in my room.” Most of the girls awed at that statement, and he just hoped that Ladybug’s real name was written on his hand in smudged ink. “If you don’t receive a rose tonight, I really hope that you can find your one true love one day too.” With that, he glanced down at his hand, picked up a rose and began calling out the names, one by one.

----------------------------------------------------

This whole thing would have been a lot more nerve racking if she didn’t already have a rose in her hand. So instead, Marinette used this time to size up her competition. Since she was the first impression rose, she was placed right on the edge of the group. She had the best view of Adrien, every shot of a girl accepting a rose would have her in the background and she had to turn her head to look at the other girls so she could look at everyone without the producers getting mad at her; it just looked like she was being polite.

They had strategically placed other girls as well. Lila was standing right next to Laura and other girls who had participated in conflict were near the opposing parties as well, meaning that Anna was very close to Marinette. She had to think that they did that on purpose, just to make the tension seem even higher than it already was.

Adrien reached for the first rose and called out, “Lucie.” A girl with shoulder-length blonde hair and a sparkly red dress on stepped forward. Once she reached Adrien he smiled and asked, “Lucie, will you accept this rose?” She nodded and gave him a hug then walked back to her spot.

This cycle continued until Adrien was running low on roses. She was relieved to hear that Hanna had made it to the next week, as well as her friend Juliette. Sadly, Lila had also progressed forward, but so had Sasha. the roses dwindled until there was only one left. With that, Chris Harrison stepped out of the shadows and announced, “Ladies, Adrien, it’s the final rose tonight. When you’re ready.” He then stepped back into the shadows, leaving Adrien nervously glancing at his hand (he must have written the names down there) before picking up the rose.

He looked around dramatically at the remaining girls for an awkwardly long time before saying, “Kagami.” A girl Marinette hadn’t noticed before stepped up towards Adrien. She was wearing a red fencing outfit and truthfully looked so out of place, Marinette is surprised she didn’t catch her eye before. Kagami stood there stoically while Adrien asked, “Kagami, will you accept this rose?” She gave a curt nod, took the rose, and bowed to Adrien instead of hugging him. She then walked back towards the group of girls.

Marinette could feel the girls who didn’t get pick begin to cry and watched as Chris stepped out again. “Ladies, I’m sorry. If you did not receive a rose, take a moment to say your goodbye.” Sniffling broke out as the girls said goodbye to each other. Marinette reached out to comfort the girl next to her, Elsa, but her hand was hit away. She tried not to take it personally, but it still stung. Marinette also noticed the smug look Lila was wearing. Laura next to her was crying and after another sweep of the girls going home, Marinette noticed Anna was leaving as well. Marinette felt slightly bad about that, but at the same time, she had her chance to wow Adrien and she hadn’t taken it.

Victoria stepped forward and called out each girl who got eliminated one by one so they could come up and say their goodbyes to Adrien. He was very polite to them all but it was obvious (at least to Marinette because she knew his body language so well) that he was relieved to have them gone. If she had to guess why, she would probably cite the fact that he was one step closer to discovering her, or rather Ladybug.

Once all of the cut girls had left, they were passed out a chute of champagne and instructed to huddle up with their roses. Adrien stepped into the circle and gave yet another toast. “Cheers to the most amazing first night I could have asked for. I’m so lucky to be here with all of you. I can’t wait to see this journey strut.” Marinette held back a groan as all of the other girls let out a giggle at his model pun. He had the decency to blush at his comment before saying, “To the journey!” to which all of the girls raised their glasses with a group, “Cheers!”

When someone finally called cut, Marinette sighed and relaxed for the first time that night. It was 3:30 in the morning and to say she was exhausted is an understatement. She carefully put down her glass and was just about to go to her room before she remembered that she didn’t know where her room was.

When she looked around, she noticed that Adrien was being whisked away by a lady with a clipboard and Victoria was stepping forward to hopefully give the girls instructions.

“Congrats ladies on making it past the first night. You should know that we will not be filming you tomorrow, to allow you the day to rest and settle into the mansion. The first date card and date will be presented Tuesday so know you are on your own until then. Cameras will not be around on Sundays due to editing, processing and resting for all. Please save any drama or fights or problems until Monday as those are better worked out on camera.” Marinette strongly disagreed but didn’t speak up.

“With that being said, here are your rooming assignments.” She said holding up a stack of papers. “Your luggage has already been brought to your rooms and the bathroom assignments are posted on each bathroom door. Please only use your designated bathroom unless otherwise given permission from one of the crew members. Jade and Sarah are going to be in charge of the mansion while you are here. If there are any problems, you need something, or have a question about the house, ask these two.” Two middle-aged ladies wearing matching shirts that said, “Mansion-Mom” waved and took the stack of papers from Victoria’s hand.

Victoria glanced over her clipboard, “One last thing. I’ve been instructed to remind you that you are not allowed to leave the mansion without accompanying Adrien on a date. You are, however, allowed on the mansion grounds. Please do not leave the gate and do not do anything that could put you in harms way. Good night girls, and we will see you Monday morning.”

With that, she left as did most of the crew. Some stayed to finish cleaning up the cameras, while Jade and Sarah began passing out the assignments. Marinette was assigned to a room with a girl named Mathilde and they quickly found each other and made small talk as they walked to their room. They were on the third floor and had access to one of the many balconies. The room was at the end of the hallway, which was perfect as it would make escaping as Ladybug all the easier.

She quickly wiped off her make-up with a wipe, changed into her pajamas, and waited in line to wash her face. There were 3 other girls who shared her bathroom, so the wait wasn’t too long. Soon enough, she was curled up on the right side of their queen-sized bed as Mathilde was showering. Before she knew it, she was asleep, dreaming of winning Adrien’s heart and her conversation with Chat Noir later that day.

~~~

Due to the coronavirus I’m hoping to have the next chapter up by the end of the week since being on lock down means I have nothing to do.

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list

@momor3202

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samsexualdeancurious · 5 years

Text

Thanks For Listening | Chapter 1

Square: Free Space

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Words: 8,498

Warnings: hurt!Reader, pining, eventual smut, dirty talk, voice!kink, unprotected sex.

Summary: Sam hosts two podcasts - a secret one for hunters called the War Room and a public one with fellow hunter Y/N called Criminal History. Y/N and Sam have never seen each other, let alone met, but that doesn’t stop Sam from worrying when Y/N suddenly goes missing.

Betaed by @manawhaat

Written for @spnkinkbingo

Header by me and Mana

Masterlist - AO3

You rest your elbows on the cheap motel table, leaning on it as you speak into the microphone. "Chief, you've heard my thoughts on this. What do you think?"

There's a pause, the same little dramatic one Sam does every time, and then that rich voice you adore says, "I think he's guilty as hell."

You can't suppress a small laugh at Sam's straight-forward statement. "Well, folks, the Chief has spoken - and the jury has, too. Guilty. As. Hell. Keith Hunter Jesperson, A.K.A. the Happy Face Killer, was sentenced to life without parole and is currently housed in Oregon State Penitentiary. If you want to hear another side of this story, I recommend the podcast Happy Face, which is hosted by Melissa Moore, Jesperson's daughter. Anything else you want to add?"

"Definitely check out that Happy Face podcast, guys. It's a great one."

"Thanks, Chief. Until next time, then, folks. This is Criminal History. Thanks for listening."

You sit back from the mic, both you and Sam leaving a moment of silence where Sam can later cut the recording and add in the outro music.

"How was that?" you ask. "Think we need to go again?"

"No, you were great," Sam assures you. "You always are. You know that."

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. "I know," you say, putting on a little bit of a playfully cocky tone. "I just like hearing you say it."

Sam laughs and your stomach does happy flips. "Fine," he teases. "I see how it is. You're just using me for my voice."

"You caught me," you say with enough playfulness in your voice to hopefully combat the heat in your cheeks, even though Sam can't see that.

You find yourself staring longingly at the computer screen, wishing for the hundredth time today alone that you could see Sam's face. But, unfortunately, voice recordings are easier on shitty motel WiFi than video calls are.

“If you think we’ve got everything we need, I’m gonna stop my recording,” you continue, pushing past your wandering thoughts.

“We’re good. Go ahead and stop the recording.”

You do just that, saving the file and uploading it to a file sharing service Sam found. “File’s uploading now. We’ll see how long it takes on this motel WiFi. I’m surprised we didn’t have any connection issues. The WiFi really sucked earlier.”

“Gotta love motel WiFi. What episode number is this?”

“47 according to my notes,” you reply. “We’re not even to 50 and you’re already losing track?”

“I’m running two podcasts. There’s only so much my brain can handle.”

“What? Sam Winchester’s brain has a limit? Alert the media.”

You can practically hear his eyes rolling. “Ha ha. You still chasing that vamp nest?”

“Unfortunately. I’m gonna meet up with Allen Burton tomorrow. He caught wind of the nest moving south past Moab.”

“Allen. I’m not familiar with that name. He’s experienced?”

“Not as experienced as I would prefer but everyone else is caught up in something or on the other end of the country, and I’m not waiting around for these bastards to kill anyone else.”

Sam makes a soft, displeased sound. “Be careful, okay?”

Your heart warms at the concern in Sam’s voice and you try to play it off with a little joking. “Always am.”

Sam doesn’t fall for your change of tone, though. “Y/N. Please. Vampires are no joke.”

“I know. I’ll be careful,” you promise, suddenly eager to reassure him.

“Call or text me when you’ve got the nest wrapped up?”

“Of course.”

---

Sam is reluctant to end the call. He always is. Y/N is just so easy to talk to, which is part of why they make such good co-hosts. Recording their weekly episodes are one of the highlights of his week.

He reaches over and flicks the switch on the wall behind his desk - the one connected to the “Quiet Please. Recording in Progress” sign and the red light above his office door. This was his own special addition to this room and the wiring was a giant pain in the ass but it was definitely worth it to minimize the sounds in the hall outside.

Someone knocks on the door as soon as the sign and light are turned off. “Come in,” he calls, saving his own audio file to a folder he’ll download Y/N’s to once it’s uploaded.

“Ya done in here?” Dean asks, poking his head in.

“Done with Criminal History,” Sam tells him, spinning his chair around. Another worthwhile investment, his nice desk chair. “Still gotta record an interview for the War Room.”

“I’m Sam Winchester,” Dean says in a gruff voice, stepping fully into the room. “Welcome to the War Room.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You totally sound like that.”

“Do you have a reason for being here or are you just being annoying?”

Dean holds up a plate Sam didn’t notice he had. “Dinner.”

“Have I really been in here that long?” Sam asks, happily accepting the plate to find that Dean made chicken and rice with chipotle green onion gravy.

“You sure have. You and Y/N must’ve been a coupla of old Chatty Cathy’s today.”

“Yeah, it took us a while to get going,” Sam admits around a bite of food.

“What’s she been up to?”

“Still tracking that vamp nest. It’s moved into southern Utah now and she’s gonna meet up with another hunter, some guy named Allen, to finally take care of it. Well, that’s what she’s hoping for, at least.”

“You two gonna hang out once she wraps that case up?”

Dean shoots Sam a wink and Sam responds with a glare. That only prompts his brother to laugh.

“Seriously, Sammy,” Dean says. “You’ve been digital pen pals for over a year. It’s about time you finally meet.”

Dean’s right and Sam knows he is, but it’s his duty as the younger brother to never admit it. Truthfully, Sam’s dying to meet Y/N. As hunters, they’re both a little paranoid about new people and despite knowing each other for so long, they’ve never actually video chatted, let alone met in person. He trusts Y/N, though. He feels like he really knows who she is, after all their texting and phone calls pre-podcast, all the time they spend just talking ‘off the clock’, and the hours of recorded chat he sometimes edits down into bonus episodes.

In all honesty, Sam likes Y/N. He likes her a lot. He’d never tell her that, though. They’ve got a good thing going and he doesn’t want to ruin that with his own mess of feelings when it’s so much easier to just keep things to himself.

“We’ll see,” is all Sam gives his brother. He drains his water bottle washing down a mouthful of rice and shakes the empty container at Dean. “Can you go fill this?”

“I’m not your butler,” Dean grumbles even as he takes the water bottle.

“Thank you!” Sam calls after him, spinning to put his plate on the desk and really go to town on his dinner. It’s a simple recipe but a delicious one, if a little spicy.

Dean returns with the water bottle just as Sam is scraping his plate clean.

“You’re the best,” Sam says, happily accepting the bottle in exchange for the plate.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean replies. “Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t. Now get out so I can record.”

As soon as the door is closed behind Dean, Sam flicks his sign on again and swings over to his microphone. He drinks a little water to clear his throat, checks the clock to see that he has a few minutes left until his guest hunter calls, and hits the record button. A thirty-second wait for white noise and then he leans in a little closer to the microphone than he usually does for Criminal History.

“I’m Sam Winchester,” he says, unable to resist being just a little dramatic. “Welcome to the War Room.”

---

Y/N texts Sam right up until she and Allen are headed out to where they think the vamps are hiding, three days after they’d first met up.

She doesn’t text Sam after that.

---

"You've reached Y/N. I'm probably off having more fun than you are. Leave a message."

Sam signs, scrubbing a hand over his face as he enters the bunker kitchen. "Y/N, it's Sam. Again. Please call me as soon as you can." He hangs up, tapping his phone against his hand as he fights the urge to call again.

"She still not answering?" Dean asks from where he's standing at the stove frying bacon.

Sam shakes his head and shoved his phone in his pocket. "It's been almost a week. I'm getting really worried."

"Do you know where the nest was? Maybe you should go check on her."

"Somewhere in southern Utah. I don't know exactly where, though. Last we spoke she said the vamps had holed up somewhere not on a map." Sam slams one hand flat against the door of the fridge before running that same hand through his hair. "Shit, I should've gotten the coordinates from her."

"Hey, hey," Dean says, dumping bacon onto a paper towel and returning the pan to the burner. "I'm sure she's fine. She probably just lost her phone somewhere and hasn't been able to get a new one"

"After a week?" Sam shoots Dean an incredulous look.

"Just trying to think positively."

Sam slumps, leaning against the fridge. "I know. I'm just-"

"Really worried. I know. I can tell." Dean nudges Sam to the side so he can get a carton of eggs from the fridge. "Are there any hunters we know that are in the area and can check on her?"

"I don't know. I think Charlie was in Idaho."

"Well,” Dean says, cracking a couple of eggs straight into the bacon grease that still coats the pan. “Go give Charlie a call."

Sam feels a little better having something he can do right now and he immediately pulls his phone out. He realizes too late that Charlie is in a different timezone, but by some miracle Charlie is just getting back to her car after a salt and burn and answers after the second ring. She promises to head south and see if she can track down Y/N.

"I'll keep you updated," she promises. "It's almost a seven-hour drive, though, and I need a few hours of shut-eye before I get on the road."

Sam nods, stirring a bit of creamer into his coffee. "Do what you need to do. I don't want you putting yourself in danger."

"I'll text you when I'm on the road."

"Thanks, Charlie. I really appreciate it."

"Hey, man. After everything you've done for me? Checking up on someone is the least I can do. Plus, Y/N is a friend, too. But I know you guys are really close and it's not like her to be out of contact this long."

Sam leans against the counter, suppressing another sigh. It feels like he’s done that a hundred times in the last hour alone.

“Hey,” Charlie says gently, seeming to sense Sam’s distress. “We’ll find her.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Sam murmurs. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

They end the call and Sam turns his attention to his coffee, fighting to keep his mind from wandering.

“It’ll be fine,” Dean says from where he’s now sitting at the table, mouth full of eggs and bacon. “Eat some bacon and find something to distract yourself.”

“I’ll try,” Sam mutters, snagging a piece of bacon and heading off to his office.

---

Sam’s really glad they’re ahead on recording for Criminal History because he’s able to lose himself in editing and getting the episode uploaded. Then he gets the next episode of War Room ready to go. From there, though, all he has left is to edit more episodes of Criminal History and he just… can't. He can't sit in his office and listen to her voice when he doesn't know if she's even alive

No. Don't think like that. He rubs both palms over his face, trying to scrub that horrible thought from his brain. She's alive. She has to be.

Like this fic? Support me longterm on Patreon HERE or make a one-time donation of Ko-Fi HERE

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @books-and-icecream @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @imsuperawkward

Team Sam: @saxxxology

Team TFL: @wonderfulworldofwinchester @kickingitwithkirk @muchamusedaboutnothing @ellen-reincarnated1967

#thanks for listening #my writing #sam x reader #sam winchester #spnkinkbingo

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angelofthequeers · 4 years

Text

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Of course I damn well redesigned Rena Rouge’s suit. If I’m known for anything, I hope it’ll be for female suit salt.

Chapter 18 | Chapter 20 | AO3 link

“Master?” Ladybug’s saying as Chat Noir enters the room for their weekly meeting. Master Fu hums and nods for her to continue. “Why don’t we ever…no, don’t worry, it’s silly.”

“There’s no such thing as a silly question, Ladybug,” Master Fu says.

“I was just wondering…” Ladybug trails her fingers over the Fox necklace in the open Miracle Box between them, then the Bee comb. “Why don’t we hand out more Miraculouses?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Chat Noir says. Ladybug smiles at him when he crosses over to sit down next to her. “We’re not the only ones learning how our Miraculouses work. And there’ve been a few times where we could’ve done with a bit of help, especially when I’m the one hit by the akumas.”

“If the Lucky Charm indicates that you need the help of an ally, I’m willing to allow you to choose one,” Master Fu says. “But I already took an enormous risk by putting two Miraculouses into circulation, especially the two that Hawkmoth is after. More Miraculouses in the world gives Hawkmoth more chances.”

“Well, Chat and I haven’t lost ours,” Ladybug says. “And we’ve had some close calls because we had to figure things out as we went. If we do eventually need an ally, wouldn’t it be a good thing to have one who’s already got experience?”

“Ladybug’s right,” Chat Noir says. “If we throw someone into battle with us for the first time, it’d make it easier for Hawkmoth to get their Miraculous.”

“We don’t even have to let them keep the Miraculous like we do,” Ladybug says when it looks like Master Fu is wavering. “We could give it to them when we need them and then take it back after each battle. Or each time we train them.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Ladybug and I are an unstoppable team,” Chat Noir says with a grin at Ladybug, who smiles and nudges him in return. “But we’ve got timers and we seem to have less experience than Hawkmoth. It couldn’t hurt to train up a few people in case we need help every now or then. Or in case Hawkmoth does something big.”

“Hmm…” Master Fu strokes his grey beard. “Both of you raise excellent points. I’m just wary after the last time I made a mistake…”

“You’ve mentioned that mistake before, but what was it?” Ladybug says. Master Fu looks her and Chat Noir straight in the eye, and Chat Noir swallows at the ancient heaviness behind Master Fu’s eyes.

“The destruction of the Guardians’ temple and the loss of every Miraculous except the ones I have here,” he says. Ladybug and Chat Noir blink.

“Oh…” Ladybug says softly.

“Master,” Wayzz says. “If I may?”

“Of course you may,” Master Fu says. “You know you’re always welcome to speak, Wayzz.”

“I think that Ladybug and Chat Noir are correct,” Wayzz says. “There will come a time when they need help, and it would be best to have prepared themselves for that eventuality. You know that they wouldn’t hand out a Miraculous to anyone they didn’t trust with their lives. And…you can’t keep allowing one mistake to haunt you to this degree, Master. It was over a century ago, and you’ve seen and learned so much since then.”

“We’ve proven that it wasn’t a mistake to trust us with these Miraculouses,” Ladybug says.

“Now, let us prove that you can trust us with others as well,” Chat Noir adds.

For a long while, Master Fu simply stares down at the Miraculous Box, his face completely unreadable to Chat Noir. It feels like an eternity before Master Fu looks back up at them and smiles.

“You’re right,” he says. “You’ve proven that you can both be trusted with the two most important Miraculouses, and it would be foolish to throw a new hero into a battle with a stronger Hawkmoth. Pick a Miraculous and an ally you can trust, and I will allow you to introduce them tonight, should they accept. They may also keep their Miraculous, as the holder’s bond with their kwami is vital for ensuring they are as attuned to their powers as possible, but the responsibility to retrieve the Miraculous if the need arises rests entirely on the two of you. If this ally works out, I will eventually entrust the other two within this tier to you.”

“I think we should pick the Fox and give it to Alya Césaire,” Ladybug says immediately.

“That…was quick,” Chat Noir says. “Any reason why?”

“Oh!” Ladybug’s cheeks pinken. “I’m sorry, Chat. I should’ve asked you.”

“No, no, I don’t mind. You’re the one with the killer instincts, milady. I’m just curious.”

“Well…” Ladybug chews her lip. “Alya’s the Ladyblogger, right? She’s already familiar with our job. And she loves us, so I know she’d never betray us. Also…maybe she’ll have a new appreciation for our secret identities if she’s got one of her own?”

“Makes sense,” Chat Noir says. “But why the Fox? Alya’s a pretty forceful person…from what I’ve seen.”

“Trixx is a crafty kwami,” Ladybug says. “I think he would be a good influence on Alya and help balance out that forcefulness. And the Fox corresponds to wood, right? That push to grow and hang back to get the facts first could be just what Alya needs, especially after why she was akumatised into Lady Wifi.”

“Huh. I never thought about that,” Chat Noir says. “Well, milady, I’m totally on board.”

“Excellent.” Master Fu removes the Fox necklace from its slot and carefully places it in a tiny box, just like the one that Chat Noir’s ring had come in. “Good luck, both of you.”

“Well, even if it flops, it’s better than being at home after the day I’ve had,” Chat Noir says.

“Poor kitty,” Ladybug coos and reaches out to scratch Chat Noir’s head behind his fake ears, making a loud purr rumble in his chest.

“Have you been talking to Marinette?” he complains. “Because it’s so not fair that you know my weak spots too.”

Ladybug giggles and scratches particularly hard and Chat Noir nearly lets out a mrow in response. Jesus Christ. If he ever actually does that in front of his lady, someone please end him.

“She seems happier when I see her now,” Ladybug says. “I take it that’s your doing?”

“Well, of course,” Chat Noir brags. “My charms are irresistible. I’m quite the cat-ch.”

“God help me,” Ladybug mutters. Although he’s sure that she’s just teasing him, Chat Noir can’t help but wonder…

“Is that…okay with you?” he says slowly. “Being close friends with a civilian? I still remember how you were when Lila said you were besties…”

“Of course it’s okay with me,” Ladybug says. “Lila was trying to use me to boost her own status and act like we were openly friends. You seem to genuinely like this Marinette girl and I know you wouldn’t do anything to endanger her and she wouldn’t spread the word just to make herself look good. And from what I’ve heard about your life, you could do with a good friend.”

“Aww, no one will ever replace you, milady,” Chat Noir teases, flopping across her lap. She rolls her eyes but thankfully continues to pet him, while Master Fu watches with a twinkle in his eyes. “But honestly…I’m happy you approve, Ladybug. Marinette’s really special.”

There’s something odd in Ladybug’s smile but, for the life of him, Chat Noir can’t possibly figure out what it could be. “I’m glad, kitty. She definitely sounds special.” With a sigh, she pushes his head off her lap and climbs to her feet in one graceful motion, then pulls him up. “Come on, Chat. We’ve got a baby superhero to meet. Thank you, Master!”

“But petting!” Chat Noir whines, though he still follows her out of the parlour.

“Behave yourself and I’ll give you all the petting you want later,” Ladybug says as they leap through Paris towards Alya’s house.

“Hmph. I’ll just go to Marinette for pets.”

“You do that, kitty.”

When they land on Alya’s balcony, she’s thoroughly engrossed in whatever she’s doing on her computer; probably some Ladyblog stuff. But Alya’s always had a sixth sense for superheroes, and as soon as their feet graze the balcony, her head whips up and her eyes start to glimmer at the sight that greets her.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!” she cries when she bursts out onto her balcony. “What’s wrong? Is there an akuma? Do you need my help?”

“Not now, but we’ll need you in the future,” Chat Noir says cryptically. Ladybug rolls her eyes.

“Ignore him,” she says. “Mind if we kidnap you for an hour or two? This could change your life.”

“Um, yes!” Alya dances from foot to foot. “You can kidnap me anytime! And getting to help you guys? What’s going on?”

“How about we snatch this fair maiden first?” Chat Noir says, and Alya gives him a thoroughly unimpressed look and pointedly holds her arms out to Ladybug, who smirks and scoops her up. Then they’re off, bounding through Paris towards the Eiffel Tower, and Alya lets out a shriek of laughter and whoops as the wind whips through her hair and blows her curls all over the place. Once they’ve finally landed on the tip, safe from the view of Paris, Ladybug sets Alya down and laughs when Alya tries in vain to tame her windswept hair.

“So,” Alya says when she’s finally given up on fixing her wild curls. “What’s up, you guys? Do you need me to do something on the Ladyblog?”

“If this works out, you can’t breathe a word of it anywhere near the Ladyblog,” Ladybug says. “You can’t tell anyone. Not the Ladyblog, not even your friends or family.”

Alya’s eyes widen. “Whoa. That’s heavy. What is it?”

“Stop scaring her, bugaboo,” Chat Noir grins. “Like she’s gonna say no.”

“I’m just making sure she understands the responsibility that this entails!” Ladybug says.

“Okay, not that I’m not up for some Ladynoir banter,” Alya says, “but it might help if you guys actually tell me what’s going on.”

Ladybug sticks her tongue out at Chat Noir, then swipes the top of her yo-yo to open it up so that she can reach into the pool of bright light and extract the little Miraculous box. “Alya Césaire,” she says, holding the box out to a wide-eyed Alya, while Chat Noir silently sulks at the fact that his baton can’t do that, even though his suit has pockets when Ladybug’s doesn’t. “Here is the Miraculous of the Fox, which grants the power of illusion. Should you choose to accept, you will use it for the greater good whenever we need your help, then return it to us when the mission is complete.”

Chat Noir shoots her an odd look. Hadn’t Master Fu said that Alya could keep the Fox? Oh well, Ladybug’s always got a plan for everything, so he just has to assume that this is another plan of hers. And if she’s come up with it on the spot, he can’t very well ask her without tipping off Alya.

“No way,” Alya breathes. “For real? Me, a superhero?”

“Of course,” Chat Noir says. “Ladybug and I both thought you’d be a natural fit.”

“But your identity must remain a secret,” Ladybug says. “If we hear that you’ve told anyone then we won’t be able to give the Miraculous back to you. Unless the circumstances were unavoidable, of course. Accidents happen.”

“Of course not!” Alya says, once again bouncing from foot to foot. “I mean – of course! I won’t tell a soul!”

“Then welcome to the team, Ladyblogger,” Chat Noir grins as Ladybug indicates that Alya can take the little box. “Tonight’s just an orientation, but we’re gonna try and give you a few training nights so you’re not shoved into the thick of things like we were.”

“I will actually have both your babies for this,” Alya blurts out.

“I think that’s scientifically impossible with two uteruses, but sure,” Ladybug says with an amused little grin. Alya rolls her eyes, then snaps open the box and gasps and shields her eyes from the bright orange light that pours out of it.

“What is that thing?” Alya gasps. When the light fades to reveal a little orange fox kwami with mischievous violet eyes, her own eyes practically bulge out of her head.

“I’m not a thing!” Trixx says. “My name is Trixx and I’m your kwami!”

“Mind. Blown.” Alya feverishly examines Trixx from all angles. “You’re what gives Ladybug and Chat Noir their superpowers, right?”

“Not bad,” Trixx remarks to Ladybug and Chat Noir.

“She’s an expert,” Ladybug says.

“That’s one word for it,” Chat Noir says. Alya shoots him a very dirty look.

“So, what do you say?” Ladybug says. “You ready to become a superhero?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Alya shoots back.

“Then you just need to say one thing,” Trixx says. “Trixx, let’s pounce!”

“Trixx, let’s pounce!” Alya is enveloped in the same orange light that had introduced Trixx, and when it fades to reveal her fox outfit, she squeals and twists and turns to look at every little bit of it. She’s wearing a baggy, cropped orange jacket with a white chest, open over a tight, white-torsoed orange suit with a high black collar, along with white-palmed black gloves that look like they rise underneath her jacket sleeves. Her orange suit stops at her knees, meeting her orange-mottled black boots with orange fox paw prints on the white soles. Her black collar tapers into a sharp point where the fox tail of her active Miraculous rests, and there’s a wide strip of material wrapped around her waist that falls behind her in a black-outlined orange and white fox tail. Topping off her outfit are fake black-tipped orange fox ears with white insides, a mask that’s orange on the top half and white on the bottom half, a long flute strung across her back, and white-tipped hair that’s pulled back into a bushy ponytail. The more Chat Noir stares, the more he realises that it’s not just a ponytail; each thick bunch of curls forms a fox tail, with nine in total, giving her ponytail the illusion of extra volume.

“You know, milady,” Chat Noir says, “you’d better ask your kwami about a suit change, ‘cause Alya looks pretty damn cool.”

“And just what is wrong with my suit?” Ladybug huffs, crossing her arms. Chat Noir raises his hands.

“Nothing, nothing! You know I’ve got a thing for spots.” He winks. “I just don’t know you’d go for such a…plain suit if you were given the chance of a lifetime to be a superhero.”

“My suit is practical, thank you very much!” Ladybug says.

“So’s mine. But I’ve got a bell.”

“Yeah, because you’re a whipped kitten!”

“Ooh, burn,” Alya cackles, her head swivelling from Ladybug to Chat Noir to follow the argument.

“Her suit’s practical but still cool!” Chat Noir points at Alya.

“Hey, whoa, keep me outta your lover’s spat.”

“I’ll so take that Miraculous back off you and give it to Chloé Bourgeois if you call it a lover’s spat again,” Ladybug mutters.

“Hey! Low blow!” Alya clasps her heart dramatically.

“Shouldn’t we be introducing Alya to the nightlife?” Chat Noir says with his usual smirk. Ladybug pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Just…pick a superhero name and jump off the Tower already,” she sighs. Alya squeals and jumps again.

“A name! I get to pick a superhero name!”

“Yep, so make it count, ‘cause you’ll be stuck with it, foxy,” Chat Noir says.

“Call me foxy again and I’ll claw your eyes out,” Alya says. “Hmm. My name’s…Rena Rouge! Yeah! Rena Rouge!”

“Not bad,” Ladybug says. “Okay, now jump off the Tower.”

“…You were serious about that?” Rena Rouge says. Ladybug smiles sweetly.

“Of course. You want to be a superhero, right? Go!”

“I’ll accompany you, foxy,” Chat Noir winks, then jumps off the Eiffel Tower before Rena Rouge can follow through with her threat of gouging his eyes out. But at least it gives her sufficient motivation to forget the fact that she’s jumping hundreds of metres down to the ground, since she growls and hurls herself after him seconds later, catching herself with the metal beams and sliding down the Tower directly when necessary to slow herself with the friction, then launching herself back off.

It’s so not fair. Why can’t Rena Rouge hurtle through Paris or get whacked off a pole-tightrope on her first day like he and Ladybug had? Damn foxes being a damn natural at this.

“Oh my god,” Rena Rouge gasps when her feet hit the concrete ground seconds after Chat Noir lands, with Ladybug bringing up the rear. “I just jumped down the Eiffel Tower!”

“And you doubted my instincts, kitty,” Ladybug says with a smirk.

“Please, milady, you insult me if you think I ever doubt you,” Chat Noir says.

“This is so cool! I can’t wait till my first battle!” Rena Rouge then grimaces. “I mean, not that I want someone to get akumatised – ugh, you guys know what I mean!”

“Yes, yes, you’re just an overexcited douche rather than an insensitive douche,” Chat Noir says. Rena Rouge sticks her tongue out at him.

“I hate to cut this short, but we didn’t exactly tell Alya’s parents that we were kidnapping her,” Ladybug says. “This’ll have to be a brief orientation. But next time will totally be longer.”

“I will commit every second of this to permanent memory,” Rena Rouge whispers with starry eyes.

“One last thing before we end our little soirée,” Chat Noir says. “Try using your power.”

“My power? Oh, right! Like Ladybug has Lucky Charm and you have Cataclysm!”

“Yep,” Ladybug says. “Yours is Mirage. As many illusions as you want for five minutes, no matter how big or small. It should be easy enough to make and hold the illusions –”

“– but it’ll take pawractice to make it look purrfect,” Chat Noir says. Both Ladybug and Rena Rouge glare at him.

“Feel like being my new partner?” Ladybug says.

“Damn right I do,” Rena Rouge says.

“Hmph,” Chat Noir says. “As if you could live without my ameowzing puns. But it does seem a bit unfair that Rena’s gotta work on perfecting her illusions when the others get straightforward powers – make a shelter, stinging others…”

“And that’s why it takes a clever mind and a fast learner,” Ladybug says. “And we know Alya’s both.”

“Sorry, Chat Noir, but you’re just gonna have to shove off and let me make out with Ladybug,” Rena Rouge says. “She called me clever and a fast learner!”

“Don’t go getting a big head or anything,” Chat Noir says sourly.

“Besides, imagine the chaos of having unlimited illusions everywhere without a timer once you’re more experienced,” Ladybug says. “You wouldn’t know what’s real or what’s not. The Fox is suited to hanging back and annoying the enemy, remember?”

“Hanging back? That doesn’t sound like me at all,” Rena Rouge says.

“Which is why we picked you for the Fox,” Ladybug says. “It’s not always about what power you’re best suited to, but what that power can teach you. I get the feeling that you’ll benefit from learning how to be a true Fox, especially since you wanna be a professional journalist someday. Hang back, gather information, confuse your opponent, then get out of there. Even if you prefer to be in the thick of things, it’s all about learning how to use your wits under stress. He did say that aggressive foxes were a thing, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, if I remember correctly,” Chat Noir says.

“Actually…that does sound pretty cool,” Rena Rouge admits. “Especially the part where I can create literally any illusion I want. Okay, I’m in. How do I use my power?”

“Just picture the illusion you want to create, play your flute, then say, “Mirage”,” Chat Noir says. “First illusion will start your timer, then you’ve got five minutes to either use that one illusion or make more.”

“But the more you have, the harder it is to focus on them,” Ladybug says. “Which is where experience comes in.”

“Right, right. I think I’ve got it.” Rena Rouge’s brow furrows, then she unslings her flute and raises it to her lips to play a short tune. “Mirage!” She flings the orange orb at the end of her flute and when it hits the ground in front of her, a small group of people appear in a flash of orange light.

Wait. Why is Chat Noir looking at himself? Well, not technically himself, but his civilian self. Adrien. And Marinette, and Nino, and a few other people who he assumes are Rena Rouge’s parents and sisters. Except that they’re slightly fuzzy around the edges and very obviously not real.

“Guess what, guys!” Rena Rouge crows. “I’m a superhero! I’m Rena Rouge! Me, Alya!”

“Oh my gosh, really?” Illusion Marinette bounces on the spot. “That’s so, so cool, Alya!”

“We all know how much you love superheroes, especially Ladybug!” illusion Adrien says.

“I’m so proud of you, babe!” illusion Nino says.

“Our daughter, a hero!” illusion Mrs Césaire says, and illusion Mr Césaire beams and hugs her.

“Super Alya! Super Alya!” the illusion twins chant.

“Not bad, sis,” illusion big sister says. Rena Rouge’s necklace beeps and loses a tail segment, so she sighs and reaches out to touch illusion Nino, and the group of people disappear in another flash of light and the faint sound of flute music.

“Rena?” Ladybug says softly when Rena Rouge says nothing for a few moments. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Rena Rouge turns to face them, and Chat Noir’s stomach lurches at the sight of her glossy eyes. “I just…had to tell them somehow. At least I’ll have that memory with me.”

“You know we’d love nothing more than for you to be able to tell your friends and family, right?” Ladybug says. “But all it would take is one brainwashing or mind-reading akuma…”

“Not even Ladybug and I know who each other are,” Chat Noir says. He slips an arm around Rena Rouge, and she smiles and leans into his embrace. “Considering how many hits I take for her, that’s probably a good thing.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” Ladybug mutters as she joins the embrace, sandwiching Rena Rouge between herself and Chat Noir. They stand there in silence, squished together, ignoring Rena Rouge’s Miraculous when it beeps again.

“You know,” Rena Rouge eventually says. “I never would’ve put this on the Ladyblog, even without you guys asking me. I don’t care about the world knowing who I am. I just want my close friends and my family to be proud of me…”

Alya considers Adrien to be one of her close friends? Chat Noir can’t help but squeeze Rena Rouge tighter after that, not that she’ll know why.

“I think they already know just how miraculous you are, even without superpowers,” Ladybug says.

“God, I’m such a fucking sap,” Rena Rouge mutters, squirming until Ladybug and Chat Noir release her. “Alright, alright, break it up. I should get back before my family comes to check on me and thinks an akuma stole me or something. How do I detransform?’

“I think it’s “let’s rest”,” Chat Noir says.

“Let’s rest.” Rena Rouge’s costume vanishes in a whirl of orange sparkles, leaving Alya standing in her place with Trixx floating above her head. Alya looks up at Trixx, bites her lip, then ever so slowly reaches up to unfasten the necklace, as though she’s prolonging the inevitable.

“Thank you, Alya,” Ladybug says as she accepts the Fox Miraculous from Alya and returns it to its box. “For proving that we could trust you.”

“It was super tempting to keep it, not gonna lie,” Alya says. “But you wouldn’t give it back if I did, right? And I’d be an idiot to make an enemy of Ladybug and Chat Noir. I figure if I get to be a hero sometimes, at least it’s better than never.”

Ladybug smiles widely. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” she says and holds the box back out to Alya, whose eyes bulge. “I wanted to make sure that we could trust you enough to relinquish your powers when asked. Good job passing our test, Alya.”

“You mean your test,” Chat Noir says. “I had no idea what you were doing. But hey, bugaboo always has a plan.”

“Stop calling me bugaboo,” Ladybug says, though her lips twitch.

“Are you…serious?” Alya breathes. “This isn’t another test to see if I’m gonna be greedy and snatch it or something?”

“No,” Ladybug says. “You’ve earned it, Alya. We offered to take it back each time, but Mas – the person who gave us our Miraculouses said that the bond between holder and kwami is vital. You do know, though, that Chat Noir and I are entirely responsible for you.”

“So, you’d better not seriously mess up, yeah?” Chat Noir says. “But no pressure or anything.”

“Yeah, no pressure,” Alya says sarcastically, taking the Fox Miraculous back out and clasping it around her neck again, then tucking it under her shirt. Trixx reappears in a flash of orange light and gives Alya a rather shark-like grin. Or should that be a fox-like grin? “I can’t wait till the next akuma fight!”

“Actually, we don’t want you out there just yet,” Ladybug says. She holds up a hand before Alya can protest. “Hawkmoth doesn’t know for sure that there are other Miraculouses in Paris. The minute we reveal you, we lose that element of surprise.”

“We gotta be sure that you’re not gonna get downed in two seconds before we let you out there,” Chat Noir says. “You saw how bugaboo got flattened on our first day.”

“Excuse me?” Ladybug huffs. “Mr ‘Oops-I-didn’t-listen-to-my-kwami-and-used-Cataclysm-like-an-idiot’ wants to imply that he was the better one of us?”

“I’m with Ladybug. At least she used her Lucky Charm right.” Alya sticks her tongue out at Chat Noir while dancing from foot to foot, while Trixx watches with an amused gleam in his eyes and Chat Noir pouts at her. “And that makes sense, about making sure I’m prepared. Even if I’m literally about to wet myself both out of excitement and to see if this is just a dream.”

“Please don’t,” Chat Noir says. “Or Ladybug will have to Lucky Charm a –”

“You’d better not finish that sentence, Chat Noir, or I won’t pet you for a month,” Ladybug says. Alya coughs rather suspiciously behind her hand at that. “Thanks for understanding, Alya. I know it must be super tempting to rush out there and get in the action.”

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head,” Alya says. “I’m totally cool to be your secret weapon. And it will be secret ‘cause this isn’t going anywhere near the Ladyblog. At least, not until my first battle. Just promise me that I get to break this scoop, right? And I get to Peter Parker this shit and throw people off our trails?”

“Of course,” Ladybug and Chat Noir say together, and Alya beams.

“Damn right. Now, take me back home before you guys are reported for kidnapping and end up on the run to prove your innocence.”

“A shame, really, that we can’t keep you,” Chat Noir deadpans as Ladybug scoops Alya up. Alya smiles sweetly at him.

“Damn right, furball.”

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whump-tr0pes · 5 years

Text

Whumptober day 8

Continuing for David & Nia. Read shaky hands, gunpoint, dragged away, and isolation

Prompt: stab wound

AO3

For a split second David was frozen, the receiver suspended in his hand.

He has Nia. He has Nia.

He has Nia.

Then there was a flurry of motion. Passport. Sidearm. Money. Everything else would be at headquarters.

He didn’t dare contact the team lead on his cell phone. If they had his home phone number, there’s no telling what else they already had. Maybe a tap on his cell phone. If they heard David making plans to get Nia, they might move her.

They had to know he was coming for her. They had to know nothing would stop him from getting to her.

Three minutes later David was in his car racing to headquarters. “For every hour you delay, Nia will pay in blood.” Those were Graylan’s words. “Nia will pay in blood.” David knew it would get much worse than some well-placed blows. He didn’t know if she could hold on for 24 hours of torture. Nia was tough. She had taken bullets and torture before, but this was different. This was personal.

He drove faster. The call came in at 0237. It’s 0253 now. As soon as he got the call traced to Graylan, he would be on a plane or car or whatever would take him to where they were keeping her. Then I’m going to kill him.

He pulled into the agency parking lot. It was almost empty at this time of night. He screeched to a stop just outside the doors, disregarding a parking space. He grabbed his things and burst through the doors. He sprinted to the intelligence office, praying to see someone on the team there. Miraculously, three members of his team were in.

“Smith!” he shouted as soon as he laid eyes on him. “I need a trace on a phone call.”

Smith spun on his chair to his keyboard. “When and where?”

“0237, my home phone. Find the source.”

“On it.” As he typed, he eyed David over the screen as he paced. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Please just do it,” David snapped.

“Ok, ok. Ok…getting it…got it. Oh. Did you get a wifi call?”

“What?” David rushed to Smith’s side and stared at the computer screen.

“Yeah, that…” Smith pointed to the record. “That’s a wifi call. And he was using a VPN.”

David’s jaw went slack. “So…what does that mean for tracking?”

“It means it’ll reroute me to another IP address at a different location than the one of the actual call.” Smith regarded David from behind his glasses. “What’s going on, David? What’s this all about?”

David felt like his throat might be closing. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak past the clawing feeling in his throat.

Smith made a leap of intuition. “Where’s Nia?”

The other two people in the room stopped working and turned to look at David.

David closed his eyes. “Graylan got to her.”

“Got to her?!” someone asked incredulously. Stevens. “You mean he has her?” He and the other man, Wilson, stood and gathered around David.

“Yes, he has her,” David moaned. “Graylan wants two million for her.”

Silence.

Wilson spoke up first. “We need to call Tom.”

David turned his eyes to him, desperate. “I don’t know what else Graylan is monitoring. He had my home phone number, for Christ’s sake. If he finds out we contacted Tom he’ll guess that we’re assembling the team…he might move her…” The team lead needs to know, but… He couldn’t think straight. His mind was a wild chaos of terror. He couldn’t think of a plan, couldn’t focus enough to strategize. Tom is the one with the objectives, the tactics for each mission. He just points me in a direction and I execute the mission. He felt like he was being stabbed in the chest. He would have preferred a real blade.

“You’re right,” Smith said. “But he’s probably got his pager on him. Let me page him.” He turned away to do it.

Wilson put a steadying hand on David’s shoulder. “David?” David’s eyes snapped to his, wild and helpless. “Do you have a reason to believe Nia needs immediate extraction? We need to know what you know. We need to know our timeframe.”

David turned to Smith as he looked up from his pager, the message away already. “You have access to home phone calls, right?” For once, he was grateful for agency policy for tapping all agents’ home phones. It was for situations exactly like this one.

“Sure thing,” came the quick answer. Smith pulled up the call and David took his seat. David unplugged Smith’s headphones as he skipped forward in the call, finding the spot he wanted. Once he did, Graylan’s chilling voice came over the speakers.

“I want two million American dollars, consecutive bills.”

“Fine.”

“Hurry, Lee. I’m not a patient man and I don’t want your team to get any ideas for a grand rescue. So I’m giving you 24 hours to deliver the money. If I don’t have the money in 24 hours, I’m shooting your partner to death where she sits and throwing her into a shallow grave.”

David paused the recording, his hands shaking.

Wilson spoke up. “Did he provide proof of life?”

David rewound the recording and played it. A muted thud and a tortured sob filled the small room. Everyone flinched along with David.

He raised his eyes to his teammates, barely holding back his frantic tears. “I have to go get her,” he whispered.

“We have some time, right?” said Stevens. “24 hours?”

“No,” David said, doing his best to steady his voice. “Graylan said, ‘for every hour you delay, Nia will pay in blood.’”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “So he’s going to torture her,” Wilson said.

“Yes.” The word was almost a sob.

Smith pulled out his pager and stood, placing his hand on David’s arm. “That’s Tom. He’s enroute, ETA 10 minutes. He wants you to meet him in the briefing room.” He squeezed David’s shoulder.

Numbly David said, “he emailed me the drop location. I’ll forward it to you.”

“We’ll get started on the VPN and the email. Tom will brief us with his objectives once he’s done talking to you. Hey.” He ducked his head to meet David’s gaze as he stared at the floor. “We’ll get our girl back.”

---

Tom drew his hand across his face. “I agree with your assessment of the situation. Nia requires immediate extraction.”

“Tom,” David said, his voice breaking. “I don’t even know if he intends to return her alive. Something about this situation isn’t right.” He took a steadying breath. “This is a lot of trouble to go to just for a ransom. I think he might -” He gasped as a sob rose in his throat. “He might kill her. He might just be sending a message to us, the ransom might be secondary. I think he -” His breathing hitched and he couldn’t get the words out.

Tom blew out a slow exhale. “I think that assessment is correct, too.” He blinked quickly, trying to hide his own tears. “I want you to prepare for extraction. I’ll have Smith and the rest on those two communications Graylan sent you. I need you – hey.” He put a firm hand on David’s shoulder. “I know how you feel about her. I know how we…” He swallowed hard. “…how we all feel about her. But you need to focus. She needs you now. She needs you in mission mode.” He shook David gently. “Go to tac and medical and get what you need. I want you standing by for the minute we have a firm location.”

David nodded. “Can do.” His eyes were glassy but his voice was hard.

“For now, we communicate by pager. This is why we have them. I’ll alert Meyers in medical. She’ll meet you and help you assemble a med kit.”

“Ok.” David swallowed his tears and straightened up. “Keep me posted.”

David carefully packed the supplies into his kit. He avoided Meyers’ gaze. She seemed to understand and remained cool and business-like with him.

David could still see the overwhelm in her face. He couldn’t stand to see it. It made him think of what would happen if he failed.

“Equipment for vitals, hemostatic gauze, space blanket, multiple trauma dressings, tourniquets, SAM splints, Kerlix, airway kit, 10 gages for chest decompression, IV kit, tubing, morphine,” he listed. He clenched his jaw with the strain of keeping his voice steady. “Could I take lactated ringers? Or would saline be better?”

Meyers made direct eye contact with him. Gently, she said, “blood would be better.”

David felt a knife in his heart again. It tore at him like a real wound.

“I’ve got it prepped already. O-positive, right? Once you get the go-ahead, you can just add it to your kit and you’ll be good to go. Bring a few ice packs to keep it cool. It’s not standard procedure but it’s…” She faltered for just a moment. “It’s Nia.”

@whumptober2019

@untilthepainstarts

Next chapter

#whumptober2019 #no.8 #stab wound #David&Nia #leverage #torture #team dynamic #angst #angst angst angst #whump

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secretagentspydetectiveninja · 5 years

Text

Rare Pair Month, day 11: Pick-up lines

Oops this is a few days late, I started it on time but then I forgot, anyway have some Cupid’s Wifi for @mlrarepairmonth

AO3

Alya was no slouch when it came to flirting. Sure, most of the kids in her class were on another level of obliviousness entirely, and especially this one ridiculously hot but ridiculously stupid jock sitting just a little way down the table from her. But she was certain she could get him to notice.

She had picked a fabulous outfit with the help of her loyal girl squad, had re-dyed the ends of her hair so they really popped, and spent most of her pocket money on new makeup, considering that Nora had let all of hers go stale and crumbly years ago with little use. And now, here at this end-of-year party, she hoped to be able to bring in the new year on a bright note.

In other words, she really, really needed to do something about her annoyingly sudden crush on Kim.

“Hey Kim!” she said, leaning forwards and waving at him to get his attention.

“Oh hey Alya, what’s up?”

It wasn’t until he had turned to face her with his usual effortless dazzling smile that the nerves and adrenaline hit. She took a quick glance down at her watch – less than one minute to go until the new year. Time for her plan.

Pulling her freshly bought tube of lipstick out of her pocket, she opened it up and put a little on her lips as a top-up. “I bought some new lipstick earlier.”

“Oh, cool!”

“It’s cherry-flavour…”

“Nice.” He was giving her a thumbs-up. For all his stereotypically sporty interests, he did seem to be genuinely happy for her – though she was partially convinced he didn’t actually even know what lipstick was.

In any case, time was running very low if she wanted to start the year off with a new boyfriend. Leaning in quite a bit closer, she put on a smile with those cherry-red lips of hers and gave him a wink. “Want a taste?”

That was smooth, right? She really had to hand it to herself. It was a plan she had told Marinette to try on Adrien, but that poor girl could barely even get in a sentence around him. Alya was thankfully a lot better at getting her heart under control. She even puckered her lips slightly, another adrenaline rush running through her that was probably making her whole face red too. Would he take the hint and kiss her?

“Sure,” Kim said.

Then he grabbed the lipstick tube off her and took a bite out of it.

For several seconds Alya just stared in utter disbelief. Kim handed the tube back to her, chewing thoughtfully, and she barely paid it any attention. She couldn’t believe it.

As weird as Kim was, as unexpected and surprising and impulsive he could be, he had somehow managed to completely outdo himself.

“Hmm, I guess it is a bit cherry-flavoured, it tastes super weird though…” He picked up a napkin from the table and wiped his mouth.

Alya had still not managed to shake herself out of her state of shock. Distantly, she heard the end of the countdown and the fireworks beginning, signalling the start of another year. The first thing she had been wanting to do was to kiss Kim – and instead she was sitting here watching him eat her new lipstick!

“Happy New Year,” Kim said, his sweet smile being enough to finally snap Alya out of it.

“Huh? Oh yeah… Happy New Year…”

“Let’s start this year off with something awesome! I’m gonna do my New Year’s Resolution right now, actually, before I forget.”

How typical of him to hit the ground running, already on a roll even on the first day of the year. “What is it?”

He was blushing suddenly, his fingers fiddling nervously with the strings on his hoodie. “To ask you out. Well actually my resolution was ‘kiss someone cute’ and I like you a lot so um…”

Once again, Alya stared in surprise. “You’re… asking me for a kiss?”

He nodded.

“Well then what do you think I was just doing?!”

“Wait, what?” A second later it dawned on him. “Ohhh…”

“Yeah. I worked hard on that pick-up line, dang it. Appreciate it.”

“Your way of asking was so much better than mine…”

Now he was being humble for once in his entire life? Would this boy ever stop surprising her? To think that her wondrous pick-up line had failed, and yet all he’d had to do was outright ask, with no tact whatsoever, and it somehow worked better, because wow she really did want to kiss his stupid face right now–

Well, no better time than the present. She pushed her glasses up out of the way and went for it.

A minute or so later she sat there rather smug, watching him swoon as he covered his lipstick-marked face with his hands, not enough to hide his dopey grin.

“So, did that taste better than – ahem – a tube of lipstick?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him and pushing her glasses back down. To her surprise, he gave her almost the exact same expression in return.

“Hmm… I don’t know. Couldn’t tell. I guess you’d have to put on some more lipstick and do that again.”

“Ha, very sneaky.” She put an arm around him, her smile widening. “Will you be my boyfriend? ‘Cause then you can taste my lipstick anytime. Or chapstick. I’m not gonna wear lipstick all the time, y’know.”

“Hey, I’d have agreed without the lipstick or chapstick too. I like you ‘cause you’re fun, Alya. You’re awesome. I’d be honoured to be your boyfriend.”

To think that here she was, trying to be as flirty and smooth as possible, and Kim was just saying any old heartfelt nonsense that came to mind – and it somehow worked better! Maybe forget the pick-up lines then, he clearly didn’t need them, and they went right over his head anyway.

She opened the half-eaten lipstick tube and put a little on again. “Well then, in that case…”

“I’ll buy you new lipstick, I promise,” Kim mumbled in embarrassment at seeing the thing again.

Alya simply laughed before putting the tube down and kissing him again.

#rarepairmonth2019 #miraculous ladybug #alya cesaire #le chien kim #cupid's wifi #idk my dudes that's just always been my tag for them #random stuff #aish writes #i know literally nothing about lipstick

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luckyspike · 5 years

Text

Adventures in America, Ch. 10 - Haunted Doll Watch

In which Adam and Lucky have an unexpected encounter with the supernatural, and two more immortal idiots enter the playing field in spite of the ref’s strict no-interference declaration

Start with chapter 1 here (not on AO3 yet!)

Refresh on chapter 9

or check out my fanfic tag for all your fanfic needs

As with most such places, the first several haunted locations Adam and Lucky wandered through the next day, after rolling out of bed at the crack of eleven, were not actually haunted. Adam had a knack for picking up on that kind of thing, in spite of never having seen a ghost, and although he stepped into every place with an open mind and a hopeful heart, for the most part he only found dust and tourist traps. By the fourth stop on the walking tour, he was starting to despair, although Lucky was convinced they’d already encountered about five ghosts, and was trying to explain to Adam why a creaky door on mis-matched hinges meant the old house they’d just left was definitely haunted.

He knew, based on his similar experiences around England, that most places that were purportedly haunted actually weren’t, but still, he’d been hoping America would be different. A part of him - a part of him that was still a kid playing with the Them in Hogback wood - thought maybe after all those gangsters and cowboys had died in this country, a few of them had stuck around.

Still, Lucky was having a good time, and in spite of the disappointing lack of ghosts, Adam was having a good time tagging along behind. Some of the places had free wifi too - after days out in the Great Plains, where cell service was sparse, much less wifi, this was a welcome development that he was taking full advantage of to message his family and friends. Brian had been shocked to hear there wasn’t a tornado in America every day, and once they hit the free wifi at the next haunted house, Adam read through ten more messages with increasingly-dramatic expressions of disbelief. He read them aloud, too, to Lucky and the two of them laughed, before sending the other boy a picture of the awkward-looking wax sculpture in the entryway of a home that declared itself “Actually haunted!”

“Put money on it?” Lucky offered, picking a tri-fold brochure up off of the desk in the entryway. “I bet it’s actually haunted.”

“I’ll give you two dollars if it is,” Adam wagered. “And if not, I get two dollars.”

“Deal.” Lucky looked thoughtful. “How will we know if it’s haunted?”

Adam raised his eyebrows and asked, mildly, “How have we known with any of the other places?”

“... You have a point.” He thought further. “Maybe something more indisputable? Not just creaks but like, an EVP or an apparition or … ?”

“You have something to record EVPs?”

Lucky shrugged and brandished his phone. “Just this. Could be worth a shot.”

Around them, the old house creaked as tourists moved through it, and outside there was the sound of traffic and pedestrians and general city life. The boys exchanged a look. “Could be tough,” Adam said, unnecessarily.

“I still wanna try it.”

“Okay.”

The house was a late-1800s Victorian-inspired monstrosity; a rabbits’ warren of small rooms and narrow hallways strung together in such a way that you really could only see bits and pieces of the house at a time, with the exception of whatever room you happened to be standing in. The furniture, too, was authentic to the period. Aziraphale, Adam thought as he looked around, probably would have loved it. He pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures, making a mental note that once he’s on wifi, he should send them to Crowley for Aziraphale to look at.

Maybe he could even video call them later, he thought, tapping the back of a chintz wingback chair, before the hideous pattern called to him, and he took a close-up photo of that as well.

“Looking for orbs?” Lucky asked, as he wandered by, looking around the room like he wasn’t sure what to examine first. Which, Adam figured, he probably wasn’t. “Good idea.”

“Oh, yeah. Totally.” And then, to confirm the story, he looked to the phone’s screen and flipped back through the photos he’d just taken. Chintz furniture, glass-front cabinets, and out-of-style curtains, nothing more. No orbs, no shadow people, no ghosts. He told Lucky so, and the other boy sighed.

“Let’s try another room. It’ll be quieter in the basement, maybe we can even get some EVPs down there.”

“Lead the way.”

The did not have better luck in the basement, although had either Adam or Lucky been Foley artists they would probably have been fairly well-pleased with the ‘footsteps crunching in old basement’ recording they managed to get while waiting for some kind of ghostly reply. His enthusiasm waning, Lucky led the way back upstairs, all the way upstairs, to the top floor. Adam poked around in the bedrooms while Lucky explored the maid’s quarters in the attic, theoretically trying to get some EVPs up there while Adam photographed the rooms below for orbs. Neither had much luck, and, discouraged, they re-united in one of the child’s bedrooms.

“I think it’s a bust,” Lucky sighed, obviously disappointed. “Maybe it’s that it’s daylight, you think? Not that we’ll be able to be in any of these places at night, but I wonder if we’d have better luck then, like, when the spirits are more active, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Adam said, sympathetically. “Probably, yeah?” The bed was old, and the quilt covering it looked fairly ancient as well, visible as it was beneath a mass of dolls that looked like they’d been plucked from the nearest antique store with the primary intention of being as unsettling as possible. He picked up his phone to photograph it. “Maybe one of the next few houses? We could stop for lunch, then hit a couple more -”

Lucky made a noise that might have been agreement, and turned to leave. And then both boys froze, because one of the dolls spoke in a tight, squeaky voice. “Antichrist!”

Lucky was the first to recover, mostly because Adam had gone very, very still and very, very pale. He was still and pale even while Lucky shouldered past him, the better to get closer to the bed, and lean in to the dolls. “You heard that, right? You heard it talk?”

“Oh, yeah.” Adam swallowed. “Yep, for sure.” He took a step backwards.

“It said ‘antichrist’ I think.” He looked over the assembled dolls. “Is that right? Which one of you said that?”

When the dolls answered, it was in unison, a heavy buzz coursing through them and coalescing into a word. “Us.”

“Okay, I’m out.” Adam stumbled backwards, his shoulders bumping into the doorframe. He made to spin, to duck out of the room, but the door swung shut in his face and he yelped, scrambling backwards into Lucky, who had frozen in front of the bed, eyes wide, fixed on the dolls. Several of them - not all, which made it more horrifying, somehow - were now hovering a foot or so above the bed.

“Antichrist,” they repeated, in the same awful sound that made Adam’s eardrums tremble. “Antichrist. Beware, Antichrist.” Lucky was backing up, shoving Adam with him, until Adam felt the old door at his back. Not taking his eyes off the dolls, he started to fumble for the knob, even as they continued to speak. “Beware the Duke. Beware the Warrior.”

“I can’t find the doorknob,” Adam whispered to Lucky, frantically. “I can’t find it, I can’t look to -”

“You hear us, kid? Beware!”

Several things happened at once. The dolls, as one, throbbed with a single pulse of hot, orange light, and the room, for a brief second, stank of sulfur and, interestingly, Adam thought distantly, given as he was to unique insider knowledge about the infernal and divine, warm printer paper. A warm breeze blew through the room as well, ruffling the boys’ hair. Instinctively, they both closed their eyes, Lucky with a whimper, until the breeze died down. And then everything grew very still and quiet and Adam, fully expecting to see a demon or an angel, cracked his eyes open a fraction of a millimeter.

The dolls were sitting neatly on the bed as though they had never been disturbed. Sunlight shone through the window, and, if possible, the room looked just a little cleaner, less dusty than it had before.

The door opened at his back.

They didn’t talk as they left the house. Adam just grabbed Lucky’s shirt by the collar and pulled him back, out of the room, until they were in a wider part of the house. Adam looped his arm around the taller boy’s shoulder then, and they walked outside into the daylight, pale and quiet and walking in lock-step.

The old house was near to a little green space, not a park exactly, but just a handful of square feet that was tended and allowed to grow grass and two anemic-looking trees. Optimistically, someone had once set a bench between them. It was vacant now, and Adam and Lucky sat on it, Lucky slouched back, loose-limbed and vacant, while Adam curled forward, elbows on his knees and hands folded in his lap. He stared at the grass, focused.

They didn’t really keep track of time. Some cars drove by, people walked past, and the shadows grew a little longer, though not much. Eventually, Adam sat back, and Lucky sat up straighter and then, with a quiet rustle just audible over the hustle of the city around them, two dollar bills emerged from Adam’s pocket, and found their way into Lucky’s line of sight.

Lucky looked slowly from the bills, to Adam, and, delicately, raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

It felt good to laugh. It wasn’t really a ‘ha-ha-funny’ kind of laugh, more like a laugh that comes when you’ve escaped death, when you’ve skirted around a pit and come sliding onto solid ground on the other side. A laugh that’s just to the up-side of crying, there when the dam breaks and there’s not enough restraint in the world to hold back the bubbling of relief and joy and residual horror. They laughed, and Lucky snatched the dollar bills and tucked them away into his jeans pocket.

“That was,” Lucky said slowly, after they were done laughing and had settled down to breathe together, “super fucked-up.”

“Yep,” Adam agreed, sitting back against the bench and scrubbing his face with his hands. “Yeah, it was.”

“What was all that about the Antichrist?” Lucky frowned, staring into some empty middle-distance. “Antichrist, the Duke, the Warrior …” He waved a hand. “Like, beware the Antichrist is a pretty solid piece of advice, but it was more like, like …” He made a face and cocked his head. “Like the ghost was warning the Antichrist to beware, instead of the other way around. Beware of the Duke, and the Warrior.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“No,” Adam lied. He shifted on the bench, uncomfortable and quiet. “No, it wouldn’t. Antichrist is supposed to be the biggest bad guy around, right?”

“Yeah. So why would he need a warning?” He put his head to the side again, another thought occurring to him. “And also, why would they warn us?”

Adam forced a laugh. “Beats me.” He looked at his phone - extended network, no wifi. He wondered how soon they could get somewhere with wifi so he could call someone, Crowley, yeah, and Aziraphale, he needed to call them in the worst way, but he didn’t have service, couldn’t talk to them about all this in front of Lucky right now -

“Maybe it’s referencing tarot,” Lucky murmured. “Are there warrior and duke cards in tarot? The Antichrist would be The Devil …”

“Don’t think there’s a duke or a warrior,” Adam said, knowing full well that this was the case. He’d never really been interested in tarot, but Anathema was adept at it, and he’d hung around her enough to pick up on the basics. “Nothing really makes sense in tarot for those.”

“Guess not.” He stood, and stretched, and then hunched back down, hands in his pockets. “Think I’ve had my fill of haunted houses for today, what about you?”

Adam raised his eyebrows and looked up to Lucky. “If you were looking for proof ghosts exist, I think you found it, huh? Don’t really need to go wading around looking for more.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I got … well, more than I wanted, honestly.” He sighed, and whatever slouch he could still muster up came out. “I could go for some barbecue. You?”

“Yeah.” He stood up, following Lucky through the city - they very definitely skirted the haunted house, staying clear on the other side of the block - toward a place that Google assured them was a very well-reviewed barbecue spot. “You don’t think it’ll follow us, do you?” Adam asked. It had been bothering him, and he found himself glancing around, looking for a warrior, or a duke, or an angel or a demon. He frowned, and his fingers brushed the edges of his phone in his pocket.

“It probably can’t.” Lucky forced a little wry laugh. “I mean, okay, not like I’m an expert on ghosts or anything, but if a ghost has been in the same place for like, a hundred years, it probably can’t leave.” He rubbed his eye. “Man, I have a headache. Did that all really happen? I didn’t … maybe I was just hungry.”

“Oh, no, no, it really happened. Definitely happened.”

“And then it said ‘kid’, right? What was that about?” He spread his hands. “All that ‘beware’ and cryptic stuff like you expect from ghosts, like in the movies, right, and then ‘you hear us, kid’. Like, what was that about? Weirdly personal.”

“Very weird,” Adam agreed. Indeed, though the entire brief event had been terrifying, and all the stuff at the beginning that did sound like it came straight out of a movie chilled him, the most frightening part had been at the end. Because the voice had sounded … weirdly familiar, under the warping of the dolls and the buzz of whatever energy the thing had been drawing on to speak. He couldn’t place it, but he’d heard it before, or at least he thought he had, but then again at its core it was just a man’s voice, with an American accent, and certainly that wasn’t that rare.

“You know,” Lucky said, as they turned a corner and the strong scent of barbecue hit them both square in the face. Adam, lost in his thoughts though he was, started salivating. “You know it’s super weird, my nanny -”

“The Satanist?”

“Yeah, her. She used to call me ‘the little Antichrist’. Plus other weird stuff, Hellspawn, little demon, you know. Pet names but like, from a Satanist.You think it knew?”

Adam blinked. “Um, weird.”

“And she’d go on about like, me rising up and commanding the legions of Hell or whatever, but I figured she was just being motivational? In a weird way.” He snorted. “Listen, I know I make her sound crazy when I talk about her, and she was kind of crazy - okay, yeah, really crazy - but like she was actually really nice? But either way, for the ghost to -”

“What’d she look like?” Adam jogged around to face Lucky and stopped, blue eyes fixed on the other boy’s dark brown ones. “Sorry, I know, weird question, but what’d she look like? I swear this is relevant.”

Lucky looked confused. “Uh, I … how’s this relevant?” Adam didn’t answer, and he shrugged. “Uh, I dunno. Tall, always wore black, always wore sunglasses, Scottish -”

“Red hair?”

“Yeah. How’d you know that?”

Adam looked down, tapped a few things on his phone, and then turned the screen to the other boy. Lucky’s mouth dropped open. “Familiar?”

“I didn’t …” He looked at the picture, which showed Adam maybe a few years younger, smiling, holding the camera for the photo at arm’s length, and a woman with dark hair and round glasses holding up three tickets to a movie or something, and, most importantly, a man all in black, with red hair and dark glasses, who looked like he was trying very hard to be serious, failing miserably, and also flashing a sign of the horns behind Adam’s head. “I never knew Nanny had a brother,” Lucky concluded, finally, taking the phone and studying the photo.

“Don’t think she does. Here.” He pulled the phone back, flipped through a few more photos, and then displayed another one for Lucky. “How about that guy? Is he familiar? Like the gardener, maybe?”

This one showed a gathering on a beach, although it was definitely British because beach or no, everyone had jackets on. There were other kids in this one, trying gamely to start a fire by the looks of it, and there was the woman with the round glasses again, sitting in the sand and leaned up comfortably against a dark-haired man, also in glasses. And there, toward the edge of the picture, was the man that could have been Nanny’s twin brother, still all in black and wearing sunglasses, a thermos in one hand and his other linked with another man, white-blond and all in shades of dun. Lucky angled for a better look - Adam was clearly indicating the blonde man with Nanny’s brother - and then frowned and shook his head back and forth. “Nah, Brother Frances was way older. Same hair color, though.” He shook his head. “So weird, he could be Nanny’s twin.”

“I think he is Nanny, Lucky.” Adam grabbed the phone back one more time, flipped through a few more photos, and settled on one. “Did your Nanny drive a big, black, really old car?”

He looked perturbed. “I … don’t remember? I was little, but Nanny …” He looked at the picture that Adam held up then, of an old, black car, the blonde man leaning over the hood and pointing toward a map, scowling at the other one - Nanny, Nanny’s twin brother, whatever - gesturing in clear frustration toward something outside of the shot.

But it was the car. The car growled in the back of Lucky’s memory, deep in the recesses of his hippocampus, and suddenly he was six years old and sitting on the wide bench seat, Nanny driving while Queen - she always listened to Queen, how did he forget that? - was blasting through speakers that Lucky never really saw. She always let him have a pain au chocolate in the morning when she would take him with her into London, “for being so infernally well-behaved and gluing those coins down so securely”, and every time when they drove home she would tell him, “Now, mind the crumbs, little devil, or no biscuits in bed tonight.” And sometimes, on occasion, she would smile, and tap him on the nose, never taking her eyes off the road.

It was the car.

“Oh, my God.” He looked up to Adam. “Who - how do you know her - him? Who are they?”

“He’s my godfather. Sort of.” Adam sighed, and looked from Lucky, into the street, his expression absolutely wretched. “I think we ought to talk about some stuff. I’ll buy the barbecue.”

The boys, slowly, stepped into the barbecue restaurant. Across the street, perched on the low stone wall fronting a bank building, two figures watched them. One was dressed all in gray, a light linen suit in deference to the heat, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. The other was in black head-to-toe, save for a sheer red scarf draped around their shoulders and a red knit beanie. The black-clad figure was eating an ice cream cone.

“Do you think,” the gray-clad figure asked, after the door swung closed behind the boys, “we did the right thing?”

“Self-reflection, from you?” the shorter one drawled. Their tongue - black as tar - licked at the ice cream cone. Had a casual observer paused to take notice, they would have noted that the little black sprinkles all over the cone were not actually sprinkles and were, in fact, flies. A few flew off. “Heat’s getting to you, Gabe.”

Gabriel frowned, and stuck his feet out, making a show of studying his shoes. “Raziel did say we weren’t to interfere. But then Sandalphon said he talked to Metatron -”

“Ugh, spare me.” The short one rolled their eyes. “Falling wasn’t enough, you have to keep talking about Sandalphon? My torture will last for eternity.”

“He said,” Gabriel went on, “that, you know, the Great Plan just had a little hiccup, we need to go forward, and Metatron talks to God, and Sandalphon is his twin, so …”

“You never considered that Sandalphon might have lied? The great smiter? He really loves smiting.”

Gabriel scoffed. “Of course I did, Beelz, why did you think I called you? But Raziel said no interference, and if anyone’s still in touch with Her, it’s him. So maybe we really shouldn’t have.”

Beelzebub licked the ice cream again, chasing a melting rivulet down the outside of the cone. “We’re barely interfering. All we did was make some dolls spooky and tell the kiddo to watch his back. End of story.”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “It’s definitely something, though. What’s to say -”

“For an archangel you sure do doubt a lot,” Beelzebub pointed out. “Watch you don’t trip. It’s quite a fall.”

Gabriel scowled at zir. “I don’t doubt Her,” he snapped, defensive. “But, you know, the Great Plan all turned out to be what? A joke? Or just the end of the first installment? She’s playing a game, Crowley was right, but I want to do my part, help out, do the right thing, but -”

Beelzebub smirked up at him, mocking. “What a good little angel you are.” Ze licked the ice cream again, and smiled serenely as the flies scattered. “For my money, Crowley and Aziraphale had it right all along: the whole thing’s fucking ineffable, and we can just sing along as we go.” Ze sighed, slouched back on a braced arm, and studied the remains of the cone, covered as it was in flies. “Either way, fuck it, right? Whatever keeps me from having to organize everybody again. Ugh.” Ze licked zir ice cream. “What a nightmare.”

“Hm.” A thought occurred to him. “You sing?”

“Not literally, no. Don’t be stupid. Demons don’t sing. Might as well ask you if you dance.”

“You dance?”

“Not with you.”

“Hm.” Gabriel studied his shoes again, and leaned back as well, his elbows propped on the wall as he scowled at his feet. “I don’t like these shoes.”

“Get a new pair, then.” Beelzebub considered the shoes, and then, delicately, smushed zir ice cream cone onto Gabriel’s left toe. “Now you have to.”

Gabriel flicked the cone off, irritated but not angry. “You didn’t have to do that, now my sock’s going to be sticky.”

“Make it miraculously not sticky.”

“I’ll know it was sticky. It’s sticky on a spiritual level.”

“Life is suffering, Gabe.” Ze sighed, a deep, soulful sigh that seemed to bubble up from the pits of Hell, carrying with it all the boredom, despair, and frustration of middle-management. “Speaking of, I should get back to work. When the boss is away …”

“The ducks will play,” Gabriel finished, solemnly. Beelzebub stared at him for a minute.

“That’s not how that phrase goes. Not at all.”

“I could never get the hang of mortal phrases.” He heaved a sigh, a more ethereal match to Beelzebub’s, warm and worried and, yes, filled with the frustration of middle-management. “You think we should do a little more? We’ve already done this much -”

Beelzebub raised an eyebrow. “In for a penny, eh?” Ze hopped off the wall, and brushed zir jacket sleeves off. “I’m against it.”

“Why?”

The look the Prince of Hell gave Gabriel could have best been described as ‘withering’, although that would not have done it justice. Considering Beelzebub’s astonishing power, crammed as it was into a five-foot-nothing human corporation, there had to be somewhere for the excess energy to vent out. Gabriel had often figured that the vent of choice was condescending facial expressions. “It’s one thing to skirt the rules of whatever Her plan is,” Beelzebub said slowly, as if speaking to a particularly stupid child, “but it’s quite another to go directly against it. Trust me. I speak from experience.” Ze waved a hand. “We did our part, gave the kid a heads-up, now we’re out. No interference.”

Gabriel made a face. “Aziraphale and Crowley did it and they’re … not … whatever they are.”

“They went against the Great Plan, which clearly was different than the Ineffable Plan. Did you talk to Raziel about Armageddon beforehand?”

“Not really. Didn’t think there was a need to, since it was written,” he intoned, a little bitterly. “Wonder what he’d actually had written for all that.”

“You’ll probably never know.” Beelzebub took a step away from Gabriel. “Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

“Have fun with your sock.”

“I won’t,” he replied, annoyed. He’d been trying not to think about it. “Damn you.”

Beelzebub shot him a very small, nearly imperceptible, smile over zir shoulder. “Already checked off the list, Gabe. See you Sunday. Bring your notes.”

“Yeah, alright.” He watched the Prince go, and then glared at his sock, until it realized the error in its ways and stopped, on the physical level, being sticky.

It still felt sticky anyway.

---

Now with Chapter 11!

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #the one where they go to america #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #adam young #warlock dowling #beelzebub #gabriel

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stereksecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @everchanginginks!

AN: My very first Sterek fic and my first published proper fanfic in like four years! Very exciting. This is a Sterek Secret Santa 2k18 gift for the incomparable everchanginginks, so I hope I have done everything she could ever want in this.

Within: Fluff, There Was Only One Bed, friends to lovers, and magic!Stiles, which is 4/5 of the prompts I was given! If I had 10k to work with I could have encompassed the fifth of enemies to lovers, but we do what we can. I'm already WELL OVER the 5k limit I am so sorry SSS it just happened like that orz

Read on AO3

******

Wędrowiec

Hey -SS

What -DH

What’s your address. The loft. -SS

Why do you need it -DH

Well I can’t just ask the postal service “hey what zip code are Derek Hale’s eyebrows” -SS

I mean I could but it wouldn’t get me anywhere -SS

Why do you need it -DH

I’m going to be in Michigan for Christmas so I can’t be there on the 25th to give you your present so I wanted to send it to you, if you must know -SS

You don’t have to get me anything -DH

Well you embarrassed me by getting me a way-too-nice present last year so yeah I actually kind of do. We have spending limits for a reason!!!!!!!!!!!!! -SS

That wasn’t a Christmas gift, and your laptop was nearing meltdown. We need you technologically capable to keep the packs safe and up to date. It was a necessity. It just happened to be around Christmas -DH

My Christmas gift was within the spending limits. That was the laptop case. -DH

Why are you going to Michigan? -DH

My mom’s family wants to see us again, apparently they’ve gotten over the spat happened between my uncles and my dad and they want us all together -SS

Really I think it’s because they figure it’s my grandfather’s last Christmas so they want us to pretend that everything’s fine for his sake -SS

I’m sorry to hear that -DH

Oh I don’t really give a fuck it’s just free food and free gossip about my cousins as far as I’m concerned -SS

I’ll just be bored to tears because they don’t have any fuckin technology. Just a frozen ass lake and a frozen ass town in a frozen ass state. How do they survive in a house with NO WIFI?!??!?!! -SS

Guess you’ll just have to die, then -DH

The typing indicator went up for a few seconds before a full half a minute’s pause, then Derek’s ringtone played as Stiles was now calling him. It was Derek’s preferred method of communication anyway, tone was completely lacking over text and he kind of needed some sort of cue to figure out what people meant.

“That was a fffucking meme you’re so full of shit when you pretend not to know what I’m talking about!!!” Stiles was trying to sound some form of mad, but there was way too much of a smile in his voice. “So full of shit. Fuck you.” Stiles’ verbiage towards Derek had gotten crasser and somehow even more confrontational since he’d gone off to college, but paradoxically more affectionate.

“Mhmm.” Derek didn’t give him much to go off of, but figured that Stiles had something else to talk about with him rather than just to whine about his alleged meme knowledge. Honestly, he’d just heard Isaac say it once and it garnered a positive reaction from others, so he filed it away for later use.

That wasn’t exactly what Stiles was hoping for, but he wasn’t going to let something as trivial as Derek’s resistance to banter stop him from talking. “So what are your plans for Christmas?” He still hadn’t gotten that address out of him, but if Derek had plans to be somewhere, he wanted to find out what.

“Nothing.”

Stiles stopped in his pace around his room, “Wait, nothing? What about Cora ‘n Erica ‘n Boyd ‘n Isaac ‘n Scott?” he listed off the people Derek was close enough to be around without too much annoyance in either direction.

“Cora’s down in Peru with her old pack, she’s pretty excited for their plans there, and it didn’t come with an invite, I figured I’d let her be. It’s…” He trailed off, grateful that Stiles held his tongue so he could find his words. “We’re siblings, but those six years of thinking the other dead and her pack being hundreds of miles away, we’re just not that close. I’ll call her on Christmas and I’ve sent her a couple things, it’s enough. Boyd and Erica are visiting Boyd’s grandmother in South Carolina, since his mom got a nice Christmas bonus in her paycheck.”

“Christmas bonus, huh.” Stiles’ tone was completely not buying the story.

“Christmas bonus.” Derek reaffirmed, not addressing Stiles’ suspicions in the least. It’s not that he was wrong, but Boyd was the hardest to convince to accept his financial support, so he had to resort to more sneaky measures to help him out. “And Scott and Isaac are with Ms. McCall.”

“Which also didn’t come with an invite.” Stiles filled the blank for him. It prickled at him that everyone just forgot Derek, even the ones staying in the area. “Hell, man, if I knew you got fucked over like that I’d have stayed, screw the free food ‘n everything, but we already said we’d go. I could have made you watch all of the Christmas movies that you missed out on living under a rock. And my famous hot chocolate.”

“Your famous hot chocolate, which is powdered hot chocolate mix made with whole milk, a Lindt truffle at the bottom, and a half a can of whipped cream?”

Stiles glared at the phone like the screen had personally insulted him, his ancestors, and the entirety of the Power Rangers all in one sentence. “Who told you.”

Derek was smiling despite the topic being how alone he was on the holiday. “Lydia warned me of the sugarbomb.”

“Traitor.” Stiles had an idea in his head. “Hey…..I’m gonna be bored as hell over in Michigan, and it won’t be much fun without technology, you wanna come with? You can convince them that I actually have friends and you won’t be listening to the pipes clanging in that loft all by yourself.”

“I couldn’t impose on-“

“Fuck that, they’re my family and they barely like me anyway, they’ll love you and that way I’ll at least have someone I can talk to aside from my dad, who’ll probably be bickering with my uncles, and my grandfather, who mostly speaks Polish and is about as social as a wombat.”

Derek squinted at the simile. He had to ask, even if it was stupid. “How social are wombats, exactly?”

“Hell if I know.”

Derek thought for a moment. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to at least have somewhere to go instead of staring at empty walls. “Check with them if they’re alright with you bringing someone you want to kill half the time, and if they say yes, I’ll pay my way and get a hotel.”

“No, no no, you’re staying in the house. They have a pretty big house, they got it decades and decades ago and it’s right on the lake, it’s really nice. I haven’t been there since I was…” Stiles counted on his fingers for a few seconds before giving up and ballparking it. “…Like twelve but yeah. I’ll tell ‘em I’m bringing a friend, I’m sure they’ll be fine with it. Should be grateful my fine ass will even be showing up at all.”

Derek rolled his eyes only part of the way. “See what they say, but don’t push. I won’t die if I’m on my own for Christmas.”

“Yeah but I might if I’m bored for too long out there.”

“I guess harassing me is entertainment.” He could concede that as Stiles’ motivation, it was easier than accepting a invitation offered out of guilt to bother his family by intruding on their Christmas

“Ever since I trespassed on your property, it’s been my favorite pastime.”

“Talk to you later, Stiles.” Derek wanted the conversation over before Stiles got too wrapped up in the parley and didn’t start asking, which was a basic courtesy before bringing someone they didn’t even know all the way there to stay in their house and eat their food and intrude on their family Christmas. He didn’t have high hopes, but even just the offer was enough to make him feel a little less alone.

*~*

Stiles was still blinking in shock at being awake at the ungodly hour that he was awake at, sitting in San Francisco Airport, when his father put a coffee in his hand. John was making something that was as close to small talk as Derek could get as they waited for the plane at the gate. How the both of them could stand to be so conscious before 7am was beyond him. How dare they. Didn’t they know that 5:55 am was a fake time of day and that being awoken at 3 in the morning was tantamount to a Geneva convention violation?!?

“Nhghhhgngh.” Stiles mumbled in response, shaking hands lifting the cup to his face and putting all of his faith in muscle memory to navigate the rest of it. It worked well enough, liquid went down the right tube and not down his shirt.

“C’mon, get that down so you can cram Dramamine in your face and when you wake up we’ll be in O’Hare.” John’s tone of voice was surprisingly warm and sincere despite a sentence which could easily be condescending. Maybe it was the whole Christmas spirit getting through to him, or maybe it was that Stiles was way too groggy to backsass him at this hour of the day and he was enjoying it as much as he could.

They got Stiles upright enough to get him on the plane and negotiated seating, Derek wanted on the aisle for easy escape from a compacted tube full of a ton of people and noise and smells and recycled air, which John couldn’t fault him for, and given that Stiles was going to be unconscious shortly, it was better he was on the window, so Stiles was next to Derek on the two seat side and John across the aisle from them.

Derek figured Stiles would just curl up on the window and fall asleep and he could read on his tablet in peace, so it was a mild surprise that Stiles, buckled in and half gone already, leaned on his shoulder and nuzzled in, breathing steadied and as comfortable as anything.

John leaned over to check on his son, and though wildly perplexed, he leaned back and decided that as long as Derek wasn’t strangling his kid for touching him, it was fine by him.

*~*

The arrival to Gerald Ford Airport in Michigan was, to say the least, a wakeup call for the youngest of the trio’d travelers.

“Jesus fucking Christ, oh my god, why is it so cold?” He asked as the pilot announced that the temperature in Grand Rapids was a balmy twenty-five with flurries all day. Barbaric.

“Stiles, you know it’s gonna be like, ten degrees and windstorms in Michigan the whole week, right?” Derek’s eyebrow rose at the double hoodies and vest Stiles was sporting, that Stiles had not taken out anything warmer from his luggage. That wouldn’t be nearly enough for wind straight from Canada’s frozen wastelands. Derek had done his research into where he’d be heading before packing his luggage, you know, like an adult.

“This is what I got!” Stiles shrugged, a California native that did his schooling in D.C. and Virginia, where neither place got REAL snow on the regular.

“Well, as it turns out, I expected as much.” Derek pulled out his carry-on duffle and extracted three coats, one light brown, one navy, and one black. He handed the brown to John in the middle of their row, and the navy across to Stiles. “Figured you guys wouldn’t have remembered how cold it gets in real northern places.” He said as he shrugged the black coat on himself, a slave to aesthetics.

“Hell, Derek, you didn’t have to…“ John did have a halfway warm enough coat, it wasn’t- oh, it was actually pretty nice. “How much was this?” He’d be really weirded out if Derek was dropping stacks on him and his son, he was already confused at the gift of a laptop the previous year, it’s not like he couldn’t afford a laptop for his son. He couldn’t have afforded the one Derek got him, but he didn’t want to be upstaged in taking care of Stiles. The other kids could take advantage of Derek’s money all they wanted, but the Stilinskis had pride. They didn’t accept charity from rich boy werewolves.

“Not nearly enough for either of you to worry about it.” Derek said, sliding his sunglasses on and leaning back, not interested in carrying on the conversation any longer.

John, unable to turn down the gift but weirded out by Derek both anticipating this need at all, actually going to the trouble to getting these, and sacrificing space in his carry on to bring them on the plane all for this specific scene along with buying him gifts, pulled it on all the same. What a fucking drama queen. “Thanks, Derek.”

Stiles had rolled his eyes at yet another extravagant present from Derek that was way too much to accept but he was trapped by it, since he did desperately need it and couldn’t say no. Well, he’d saved Derek from being the saddest bastard in all of California on Christmas, so maybe this was recompense. “It’s not like I can’t warm myself up.” He grumbled. Heat spells were elementary on the roster of the things any spark worth his salt would know. And Stiles was the saltiest of all.

“Yeah, Stiles, go ahead and slightly set yourself on fire through the whole week.” Derek’s deadpan delivery could easily be mistaken for sincerity, which did well enough to disguise the fact that he was actually really impressed that Stiles had been getting far enough with his magic to do some interesting and sometimes even useful things. “You’ll be our Yule Log. Very seasonal self-immolation.”

John expected Stiles to look pissed at that level of smack-talk, but Stiles looked oddly gratified by the response, like getting Derek to make fun of him was his goal all along.

“Such a good alpha provider, takes such good care of us. Thaaaank you Dereeeek.”

There might have been just a twitch of a smile at the corner of Derek’s mouth, but it could have just been a trick of the lights as cabin prepared for landing.

*~*

Stiles was giving Derek a rundown of the family members he’d have to keep straight while there, cousins and uncles and aunts and people that were peripheral to the family but close enough to be considered part of the group, the bits and pieces of them that he’d pulled together. He hadn’t seen them in a decade, so much of what he knew was informed by Facebook posts and a few Instagram bits that let him know who was who and look at least a little less like he didn’t remember jack shit about his cousins. Which he did, just they were also around 8-14 so it’s been a while, alright? Some of ‘em had gone to college, some of ‘em got jobs, hell, one of ‘em was married with a kid. Wild.

“Shortlist of the important family to know: Nelia, grandpa’s wife. My grandmother died a few years after my mom, but Nelia’s a pretty nice woman, she’s got a really thick accent so if you don’t understand what she’s saying you can ask one of us to translate, we all speak Polish to some degree.”

“I don’t.” John added, at the driver’s seat of the rented car. Derek would rent a car in town, they figured that arriving together would be easier, and then no one was alone for the ride from the airport to the family house.

“Well, Dad doesn’t, but there you go, you and him can be awkward together when we talk shit about you guys, it’ll be great.” Stiles was in the passenger seat, texting people at lightning speed about how this was going to be the most hilarious week of his life and it was all because Derek was going to have to be exposed to a TRADITIONAL FAMILY CHRISTMAS. Did you pack Benadryl? -ER

Why? -SS

For when he breaks out in hives from people expressing genuine emotion around him -ER

“Then there’s Grandpa, I call him the Polish term for it, Dziadek, you’re probably best off with Mr. Gajos. I think I’ve heard a grand total of ten words out of him my whole life, so you don’t have to worry much about him.”

Derek’s eyes were fixed on something in the distance, and casually added, “He’s who you’re named after, right?”

Stiles went stiff and turned around to look at Derek. “Who told you.” Much less humorous than the previous inquisition about the hot chocolate, he seemed properly displeased about it.

Derek only mildly smiled and made no other answer. Stiles made an aggravated noise but wasn’t going to try and interrogate Derek. He continued his familial explanation but sounded much more irritated at everyone in it. “Then there are my cousins, there are a bunch and some new ones I’ve never met, but you pretty much only have to know Nika, who’s two years older than me. She’s the only one that sort of kept in touch and therefore the only one I care about. The uncles are …well you don’t care, and I bet they won’t mess with you much. Now, the whole drama with them, Dad, if you wanna take the lead on explaining why we haven’t talked to ‘em in over a decade.”

John gave Stiles a meaningful glance, but didn’t explain it. “Well, after Claudia died, I had a hard time of it for a while. They thought that I should have handled her, and Stiles, differently than I did.” Derek realized the glance was begging Stiles not to ask John to air his most closely guarded shames right in front of Derek, who signed up for a little getaway and not to hear all their most private secrets.

“They were firm believers that ADHD was cured by beatings and were annoyed that I was a bit of a holy terror.” Stiles translated.

John grimaced a little. “They wanted to take Stiles in, raise him properly. I admit I wasn’t perfect. They weren’t right to say it, but I understand why they did.”

Derek could connect the dots laid out before him. They saw John as a useless drunk and Stiles as a neglected brat and thought they could do better. “So now you’re talking again?” He asked, desperate to save John from further agonies.

“Enough that they didn’t threaten to play family politics chess and try to make Stiles’ grandparents chose which children they liked better this year.”

“We did alright on our own.” Stiles declared with a defiant smile, clearly not about to entertain the notion of understanding their position whatsoever.

It was hard for Derek to wrap his head around a family fracturing so easily like that, Hale lines ran so deep that even someone as gone as Peter could find his way back in Derek’s heart if he worked for it. To cut someone off so cleanly on either side was alien to him. But it wasn’t his family, and frankly none of his business anyway.

*~*

They stood outside of a surprisingly expansive house on the edge of Silver Lake on the western side of the Michigan mitten, the gray sky above their heads threatening to dump yet more snow on them as they waited for someone to reach the door. Derek could hear a collection of heartbeats and voices within. Two of them old, one arrhythmic. A couple more adults, a few younger voices, a decent family gathering. There was apple, rum, cinnamon, nutmeg in the air, someone made mulled cider. It was only the 22nd, this was just a small contingent perhaps, or at least not held to the same importance as Christmas Eve.

The door opened, and a short, stout woman with steel curls and a smile that felt like home stood in the doorway to welcome them. “Mieczyslaaaw!“ She reached forward and pulled him down to kiss both of his cheeks and hug him tightly. She hadn’t seen him since they all attended the funeral of their grandmother. As a longtime family friend in the area, it was an easy transition for the family to absorb Nelia in the fold. “Oh, my sweet child. Look at you, how you’ve grown. My love.” She ushered him inside to embrace John as well, but paused a little in surprise when she saw Derek. “Nelia, this is my friend Derek.” Stiles said, looking almost proud to bring home such a fine friend to his step-grandmother. Almost as if he was proving to everyone that he wasn’t a complete social pariah, that he had people who liked him enough to come all the way out to Michigan with him. Nelia looked surprised at the man before her, but to her credit recovered quickly, holding a hand out for him to shake. “So nice to meet you, Derek. Please, come in.” For all of Stiles’ warning of an accent, it really wasn’t that bad. Clearly not her first language, but perfectly understandable. Though Derek had taught himself Polish when you are very rich you have a fair bit of time on your hands, he knew that he could only tell Stiles that he could speak it once, and he was saving that card for later. Unless Nelia was struggling on something, he’d keep his fluency to himself. She pulled him in with a hand on his shoulder as well, closing the door to the cold.

The house was warm and alive, a strong furnace and people comfortable staying there. Derek was able to pick up on more than the others and could hear a side conversation between two men.

“Your other grandson and John are here.” An adult man, a husky voice, probably a smoker, speaking quietly in a distant room. There were footsteps coming towards the Stilinskis and Derek at the door, but the voice stayed put. Whoever was talking wasn’t moving a muscle to meet them.

“Good! Good. I want to see them. It’s been too long.” The responding voice was hoarse, stilted slightly, and far older. It almost reminded Derek of Vito Corleone, a man assured of his position as patriarch.Who wouldn’t have his opinion questioned.

"It’s a disgrace.”

"I have tolerated the insult of your war against them long enough. Silence.” An authoritative end to a conversation, before a creak of wheels coming toward them.

Stiles was going through family, stiff handshakes with the assorted uncles, trying to communicate through grip and direct eye contact that he knew precisely what they said about him and his dad, and that given the opportunity, he’d fight them. He then had to give hugs of varying sincerity with the cousins. The ones he knew from his childhood he could embrace with genuine emotion, the ones he’d never met was more of an uncomfortable formality, performed for the sake of appearances. Once finished, he saw his grandfather for the first time in years. It was a lance through his heart to see the once tall man reduced to a withered shadow in a wheelchair. “Hi Dziadek.” He said, bending down to put an arm around him.

“Oh, Mischief.” The older man put shaking hands around Stiles’ face. “You look so much like Claudia.”

Stiles nodded sadly as his grandfather patted his face and let him return to full height again. Mentions of his mother didn’t hurt as much as they used to, but he didn’t remember her face as much as the others did, it seemed. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see a ghost looking out like the others could.

Derek was awkwardly explaining who he was to some people there who also seemed confused, when the cousin he saw Nelia talking to earlier took his arm. “Derek, we were under the impression when Stiles said he was bringing a friend that you’d be a girlfriend.” She finally explained outright.

Derek blinked a few times and was grateful for all the years of keeping a straight face under pressure to now not give any sign of a reaction. He put his thoughts into a response after a moment’s recovery. “That does explain why Nelia was confused. I’m just a friend who didn’t have plans for Christmas and Stiles offered. If it’s a problem at all I could absolutely stay some-“

“Oh, no, staying here is fine.” The girl saved him from talking. “I’m Nika, by the way.” She fixed him with an odd look that he’d seen sometimes in Stiles, a sort of curious, searching look that a raptor might give while wondering if something was prey or a toy. “Just that originally, when you were a girlfriend, you’d have been staying in my room and Stiles was with my brother. But that’s clearly not going to be a thing. So you and my brother will be switching, so you’re with Stiles and my brother’s with me. He had to go move his stuff. You and Stiles should come up and see the room, I think we have some things to discuss.”

She was tossing around so many red flags in Derek’s head she could be a one person color guard. He didn’t know what the hell she was, but there was something very very very wrong with this whole situation. He might not have an intuitive evil detector like Stiles’ spidey sense, but he had a healthy dose of paranoia, and it was telling him that there was all kinds of trouble about to occur. Maybe she was going to ritually sacrifice them up there. Maybe this was the Polish Get Out. Wyjść. It was a little catchy.

The adults had started passing around drinks and returned to their original conversations, and Nika made some excuse about room arrangements and putting luggage up to drag Stiles away from the grandparents glad to be reunited with their prodigal grandson.

Stiles peeled away from them and caught the Am I Going To Be Flayed Alive look in Derek’s big green stupidly pretty eyes and almost laughed. “Relax, Ice Man, you’re fine.” He clapped him on the shoulder as they went outside to get the suitcases from the car. “It’s Nika. She’s my absolute fave cousin, and if something happened to her or she meant any kind of ill will, I’d know. Trust me. She’s fine.”

Nika lead them upstairs to a small room with a full size bed, dark blue walls, no decorations but a nightstand and rug. Hadn’t been lived in for months, given the dead air in the room. “So, Stiles. How about you tell me when your spark woke, and why you brought a werewolf all the way over here.”

Stiles choked on either air or an immediate response, either way he sounded like an ostrich getting throttled. Derek wasn’t making out much better mentally, but he only raised his eyebrows.

Nika smiled as she sat on the bed. “Come on, Stiles, where’d you think you got the gift from? Aunt Claudia never used her talents much, but she was one of us.” She picked up the candle on the nightstand and blew on the wick, a flame lighting to fill the room with some warmth. “I’ve never met a werewolf before, but you were sensing shit like Legolas out there, Derek, it wasn’t too subtle, and a set of ears and or nose like that, out of Beacon Hills aka Werewolf Wonderland?”

“More like nightmareland.” Stiles snorted. “So, holy shit, like five revelations at once and I wanna come back to like….all of them, but…uh….how many of ‘em know, downstairs?!” He asked, shocking Derek by asking an actually relevant, useful question.

“The three brothers know their mother and their sister were “”””out there”””” and that you’re insane and I’m a lost cause. Dziadek knew that Babcia was a superstitious woman and that the wild comes through sometimes. Oh, sorry Derek, Dziadek and Babcia are grandfather and grandmother respectively.” Nika explained. “Babcia did small things, mostly stuff with herbs and intent, like thumping a car engine and telling it to run, or aggressively sweeping bad energy out of the house, or putting bundles above doorways to keep evil intent out. Even the mistletoe around the house was hers.” She set the candle back onto the nightstand, the fire flickering with the movement. “Werewolves are very family oriented, in general, it’s unusual to break away from the family to join another entirely alien one for a holiday like Christmas. I’m just curious.”

“He’s way too nice and let his pack totally forget about him.” Stiles wasn’t remotely afraid of being as bitter about it as Derek tried to deny that he felt.

Nika digested the statement for a moment and gave them a vague smile. “Maybe not all of them.” She got up and left the room as if that would give her the last word. Clearly, she didn’t recall from her childhood who Stiles was, as he followed her as quickly as his gazelle legs could with an indignant “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!?”

*~*

Stiles had been so wrapped up in realizing that there was a whole family history of witchery that he’d completely missed out on the fact that Derek and him were actually now supposed to share a bed until it was one in the morning and he finally arrived in the room. To find Derek sitting on his suitcase reading. “Hey, thought you came up here a while ago.”

“I did, but…” Derek half winced and locked his tablet. “We only got the one bed, and..”

“Bro, you used to live in the burned-out husk of your family’s old house I am not about to buy that you’re such a snob that you can’t share a bed for a few nights.” Stiles yanked his shirt off and tossed it in the vague direction of his suitcase. “It’s just a few nights and I even have sleep pants if you wanna go all no homo on me.”

“What? No, n- that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean.” The belt careened through the air in an ark as Stiles continued the process.

Derek was going to have to talk quickly if he wanted to get out anything. “I can’t sleep next to people.”

“What? Why?” Stiles paused, button of his jeans undone.

Derek was looking at a particularly fascinating piece of lint on the ground. “Just never works out right. I didn’t want to just disappear on you, so I was waiting for you to get back before I went to find a hotel or crash on the couch.”

“No, why. I wanna know why.”

Derek contemplated crawling out of the window to escape Stiles’ eyes, which even in the low light of the room burned into his skull. “I just can’t, alright?”

“Nope. Not alright. Fess up.”

“I’m a sleep cuddler.” Derek said it so quickly and refused to look up no matter what Stiles did.

Stiles was quiet for a few odd moments while he had a face odyssey. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Derek could feel the blush on his face and was actively willing it to go away forever. “Ever since I was a kid, if there’s someone next to me I always end up wrapped around ‘em. It’s not conscious, it just happens. So.”

“Jesus tittyfuckin’ Christ, Derek I thought it was something serious. I’m not gonna die if you give me a lil hug. Don’t be so dramatic.” Stiles finally flung his jeans off and crawled under the covers, the little tone of his phone plugging in to charge playing as he settled in. “G’night, Der.” He mumbled sleepily.

Derek had no choice. If Stiles told anyone about this, they’d never find his body. Whose body would go missing was up for debate.

*~*

Derek was a filthy liar when he tried to say it didn’t work out, and he knew it. He slept better than he had in months that night. When he awoke, Stiles was playing some mobile game, and Derek was spooning him pretty hardcore, legs tangled and an arm over his stomach. He moved away the instant he came to consciousness again. “Sorry.” He mumbled, only the ghosts of vowels in the slurred word.

“Hell, if it was a problem I’d have crawled out, but uh, you don’t get too much sleep and seeing as you knocked out for a solid nine hours there, I thought it best to let you wake up on your own.” Stiles was all nonchalance, but Derek could hear something like omission from his words. It’s not that he was wrong, it was just adjacent to the truth.

“Who told you I don’t sleep?”

“The fact that you text me back about Edda translations at three in the morning on Tuesday nights tells me that you’re not sleeping much. Now c’mon, we missed the breakfast train but if we make puppy eyes at Nelia enough she’ll probably cave and feed us. Or smack us lightly and call us lazy. One of the two.”

*~*

“Stiles, your friend is so handsome, how does he not have a girlfriend?” Nelia asked, perfectly comfortable to talk all kinds of terrible things as Derek was helping fold pierogi with Nika and Stiles. “He’d make a fine husband. He should find a good wife.”

Stiles gawked for a second, and had no clue how to respond. This would in no way stop him from doing so anyway. “He’s had a difficult time for a while, he’s helping his family right now, college, supporting them.” Stiles’ Polish was pretty rusty, he hadn’t been practicing much in the last several years.

“He has children?”

“No. Not exactly. More friends that he kind of brought inside because no one was helping them right.”

“Hmm. Nika, he’s handsome, isn’t he?”

Nika did not want to get dragged into this conversation. “Very, but it isn’t nice to talk about people in front of them.”

Nelia went to check on the uncles as they were all apparently having a slight discussion with John on the front lawn and was fully prepared to drag each of them back in by their ear and give them a firm education on the meaning of Christmas. This of course left the cousins and Derek all alone in the kitchen, the others of the family dispersed for their individual amusements.

“So, Stiles, are you…..and Derek….?”

Stiles blinked, sealing the dough around the potato and onion. “Are we what”

“Boyfriends.” She said it like it wasn’t kind of a bombshell of a word to utter.

“Nooo.” Flour and bits of dough scattered as he waved his hands to emphasize how NO that was. Absolutely not. Had she even seen Derek? He was so out of his league it physically and emotionally pained him. “ No. We’re just friends. Truly.”

“Okay, okay, I was just wondering. I wasn’t going to tell anyone.”

“I’m not gay.”

“I didn’t ask if you were.”

“You were asking a little bit.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“Derek’s also not gay”

“I wasn’t asking!”

“But he does have terrible….choice in women. Every time he gets a girlfriend she tries to kill us.”

That was enough of that. Derek had developed some thick skin about the litany of traumas he’d incurred and would give Stiles a little leave to talk shit about Jennifer, but that was taking it a little more casually than he’d like. “That’s a little mean, Stiles.” He said in perfect Polish.

Stiles turned so many colors that there was a risk he might burst a blood vessel. He fled before anyone could grab hold of him and make him accountable for his actions. Nika at least muttered an apology before scurrying off.

Derek wondered if his deep-seated need to be dramatic may contrasting with his desire to not be such a colossal dick to people he actually liked.

*~*

Stiles successfully avoided Derek by busying himself with everything possible for the rest of the day, but of course, after the day, must come the night, and thus the sleep. In the same bed. With the guy he brutally insulted and exposed just hours ago. Fuck.

Maybe if Derek was already asleep he could just curl up in the closet and evaporate entirely before anyone noticed he existed. Fuck. Why did this have to happen. Why did he have to open his big stupid mouth and say the stupidest thing that he’d ever uttered in his life.

He didn’t see light coming from under the door as he went, but knew that Derek would wake up if the doorknob made even the slightest sound. He rubbed his hands enough to warm the bony fingers and waved his hand slowly around the doorframe, collecting the sound from that space before snatching it all. Just long enough to open it silently.

When he saw Derek sitting up in bed with just the candle on the nightstand and his tablet in hand, Stiles had half a thought to make a run for it. But Derek had already looked up with a raised eyebrow. There was no escaping.

“How’d you do that that quietly?” Derek asked, not addressing the parade of elephants doing the merengue in the room.

“I, uh, didn’t want to wake you up. So I just took the sound away from it.” Stiles answered, stepping inside and looking pointedly away from anywhere near the bed.

Derek locked his tablet and set it aside. “That’s pretty impressive.” Was all he said in reply, but it was gushing praise given who it was coming from.

Stiles couldn’t stand it anymore. “Derek I am so sorry I said that, I never should have even thought it, I just-“ his words were running on top of each other and he felt like King Trashbag of the proud nation of Shitfriendia.

“Relax.”

Stiles hated being told to relax by anyone, but he had to be very nice to Derek for the rest of their concurrent lives and there was something so calm about the way Derek said it that made it less insulting. He hazarded a glance up, but Derek wasn’t wearing a shirt and even in the low light of the room he could see chest hair and he had to look away immediately or he might die.

“You have a family member who understands you on a level none of the rest of us do. She’s becoming a fast friend and you’re very comfortable with her. It wasn’t the nicest thing to say,” and it was pretty damn private, but Derek was trying to make Stiles feel better so he wouldn’t bring it up, “but I know you didn’t mean to hurt me by it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” This was probably the most adult conversation that either of them had ever engaged in, it was frankly shocking. Derek had called Boyd to help process his emotions and figure out what to say in a way that was a little more level headed than he might have done on his own.

Stiles nodded, knowing that Derek wouldn’t appreciate further self-flagellation from him and that he just would have to accept being a terrible person for the rest of his life. When he crawled into bed, he lied awake, staring at the wall across from his face and mulled it over and over. He could hear Derek’s breathing settle as he fell asleep, and an hour later a couple wiggles and there was a nose pressing against his neck and a hand over his stomach. Stiles sighed at the warm heat against him, and finally could fall asleep.

*~*

Nelia checked the codfish in the oven, monitoring the temperature carefully. “Still not ready. Mieczyslaw, could you help set the table, please?” She asked, setting some rolled napkins and a handful of forks onto the table.

It was Christmas Eve, and the whole family was sitting down soon for Wigilia, the main feast. Usually eaten before going to Midnight Mass, beginning at around eleven and finishing at midnight proper. Despite its importance, the grandparents had not gone since the grandfather had been confined to his wheelchair and their local church loved its beautiful stone steps so much. As a religious building that was remarkably old, it was exempt from the ADA act requiring public buildings to be wheelchair accessible.

They still held the meal, though Nelia and the older Mieczyslaw went to bed and the others of the family were encouraged to go and say their prayers for them. The young children were kept at home with the grandparents to watch them and make sure no one got out of their bed to try and catch Santa Claus.

Stiles was carrying various accoutrements from the fridge and counters to the table, and counted the place settings. Exactly enough for everyone, though this alerted him. “Wait, Nelia, we’re missing one. The spot for the wanderer.”

In many other cultures, an empty place setting at a family meal might be in remembrance of someone who had passed, or who could not be present at the table due to extenuating circumstances. It meant that something was missing, and some wanted to honor that with a missing place for them at the table. However, in Polish tradition at Wigilia, there is an empty place setting for an unexpected guest, or wanderer. A wędrowiec.

Nelia gave Stiles a meaningful look, one that he couldn’t decipher. He was so used to these kinds of looks being paired with massive eyebrows and kaleidoscope green eyes that trying to do it for other people was more difficult. “Think on it.” She said, slicing challah bread into a basket and wrapping the napkin over it to keep them warm.

Stiles puzzled and puzzled til his puzzler was sore, then it dawned on him. He wondered why it hadn’t before. “Derek.”

Nelia chuckled as she started slicing a loaf of challah bread. “Such a smart boy you are, Mieczyslaw.” Bringing a friend who had nowhere else to go so soon beforehand was certainly an unexpected traveler, though she didn’t know that Derek had been a wanderer for much longer than just that winter.

*~*

As John wasn’t Catholic, Stiles hadn’t even been Confirmed, and Derek didn’t want to go without Stiles, they all hung back while the others went off to the Midnight Mass. Since they knew that with kiddos younger than eight, Christmas begins absurdly early for everyone, they went to bed after seeing everyone off for the church about 20 minutes from the house.

Stiles lied awake, waiting for Derek to properly fall asleep so he’d get that heavy warm weight against him, that even though it’d only been a few nights, he found it hard to fall asleep without that. He loved the excuse they both got for it, this unconscious habit, but he hoped, he wished that Derek wasn’t regretting that he woke up with an armful of Stiles.

But he didn’t. He lay there for a few hours before getting out of bed and leaving the room. Stiles thought he was going to the bathroom or something, but after ten whole awful minutes of not having Derek next to him, he had to investigate. Checking his phone, the screen said 11:57PM. The whole gang of adults would be out at Mass for a while yet, the service had barely just started and apparently the priest loved his speechifying when the whole congregation was actually there for once during the year as his captive audience.

Stiles crept downstairs looking for his friend, finding Derek in the kitchen, watching a mug rotate in the microwave. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

Derek glanced up. He’d heard Stiles coming down, but he didn’t really see the need to react beforehand. It’s not like his mom had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar or anything. “Kind of. And I wanted to set out some of the things I got for the kids who don’t have as much money as the others. Went out when you were trying to avoid me with their parents to make sure none of the kids felt left out.”

“Santa’s Lil Helper, huh?”

Derek pondered it. “A little. And it’s a Hale tradition. Or more, it’s a Derek Hale tradition, since I’m pretty much the one who spearheaded it.”

“What did your family used to do for Christmas?” They were speaking in hushed tones so as not to wake anyone up, but in the warm light of the kitchen Christmas lights, and the soft look of Derek in a beat-up tee and plaid sweatpants, he felt sentimental enough to ask.

“Christmas was always a little funny in the Hale house.” Derek admitted, stopping the microwave a moment before the chime would go off. “We didn’t do Santa Claus.”

“Did you do Santa Claws?” Stiles mimed some claws and fangs, knowing he’d earn an eyeroll at best.

Derek did not disappoint. “No, just a couple presents from Mom and Dad, and aunts and uncles would be later. They didn’t want us getting spoiled or thinking Santa loved us more because he gave us all kinds of stuff. But we didn’t open anything until at least noon.”

“Parents liked their sleep?” Stiles definitely remembered a firm ALL PRESENTS WILL BE REPLACED WITH CHORES AND BRUSSELS SPROUTS IF THIS DOOR IS OPENED BEFORE 8:00 AM rule on Christmas morning. Of course, Stiles was jumping on his bed with excitement at five in the morning, anyway.

Derek shook his head, and his phone started vibrating in his pocket. Stiles squinted, who would be calling Derek at midnight? Moreover, why was Derek actually taking the call??

He stepped outside onto the porch, little snow drifts from their actual white Christmas shuffling aside for him with his mug. Stiles saw the bag of Lindt truffles and a little chocolate powder dust on the counter- that sonuvabitch made HIS secret recipe. Wait. WHAT.

Derek stepped back in a few minutes later with half a smile on his face.

“Who was that?” Stiles had to ask.

“Cora.”

“What’d she want?”

Derek looked mildly embarrassed. “As of,” he looked at his watch, which read 12:08AM “…five minutes ago, I’m thirty years old.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped just a bit as his mind whirled. “It’s your birthday!?” he hissed, needing to aggressively shout but not able to wake the kids.

Derek almost winced. “Yeah.”

“Well….happy birthday!” Shit. Shit shit shit. HE’D KNOWN DEREK FOR EIGHT YEARS AND HE NEVER KNEW THIS WAS HIS BIRTHDAY. Stiles had to go find his King Trashbag of Shitfriendia crown again and sit on his dumpster pile.

“I don’t like people knowing. It’s an awkward day to have a birthday.” Derek sipped his cocoa, clearly uncomfortable.

Stiles didn’t know how to deal with this. “So…is that why you guys didn’t do Christmas until the afternoon?” He felt like he was playing minesweeper, except he didn’t get to see the warning numbers.

“Yeah.” He looked down into the mug, it was easier to talk about things if he didn’t have to watch the face journey of sympathy on people’s faces when he talked about his family. But he missed them on his birthday especially, and he wanted to talk about it. And out of anyone, he wanted to talk to Stiles about it. He knew, at least to some degree, the feeling of empty spaces in your memories. “My mom used to wake me up at 12:03 to tell me happy birthday and bring me in the kitchen. She’d have a present on there that was a birthday present only. From her. She was the alpha, so it was…pretty much impossible to actually ever get her alone. Always busy with the whole pack, worrying about everyone else, worrying about…” He trailed off. Christmas was always such a hectic time for everyone, so much noise and stress and busy rushing everywhere. “So it was nice, to have that little moment with just her.”

Silence fell between them for a few moments. Stiles didn’t know what to do with himself. Then he realized; his present to Derek was bizarrely perfect. “Hold on. Hold right here.” He stole up to his room and came back down with a wrapped present, the tape shoddily put on. He thrust the box out to Derek, looking way too happy with himself. “Happy birthday, big guy.”

Derek looked between Stiles and the box a few times, but took it and quietly unstuck the tape to slide the box out and open it. “You fucking dick.” He laughed as he pulled out a sweater that said “BIRTHDAY BOY” on it, with a hideous looking Jesus. A true ugly Christmas sweater, with a bday twist.

Stiles was grinning like a loon as Derek pulled the sweater on over his tee, that amused glint in Derek’s eyes where Stiles’ idiot sense of humor hit him perfectly. He picked up his mug again, and felt that it’d turned cold. “Can I get a warm-up?”

Stiles could have just poked the mug in Derek’s hands, or even just pointed at it. But Stiles wrapped his hands around it, his hands glowing a little as the liquid heated within, and Derek’s cold hand too.

Derek’s eyebrow quirked slightly. “Thanks.” He took a sip. “Can y’do whipped cream too?”

Stiles stifled a snorted laugh poorly, but didn’t step back away.

Derek set the mug back onto the table and looked at Stiles for another quiet moment, this one much less tense. Without looking up, he broke the silence with “I swear to God if there’s mistletoe up there right n-mmf!”

Stiles had closed the gap to kiss him, his hands holding Derek’s face as he nearly crushed their noses together. They eventually managed to tilt their heads properly so it was less of a frantic smush and more of a proper kiss.

When they finally broke so Stiles could breathe, Derek had a smile on his face, one that didn’t leave in half a second. “So, is there any?”

Stiles was able to stifle that stupid laugh better. “C’mon, lets get those presents out there for them. They’ll be back eventually.”

They put some Christmas movies on the TV as they sorted the presents into neat piles for each family so everyone could sit with their group. They were on the couch, writing out the tags on each one, making sure that the way all the Santas were written exactly the same and all of the names were spelled exactly correct. Stealing kisses every once in a while devolved slowly over the course of one of the Rankin and Bass animated movies to Stiles pressing Derek into the couch, making out like a couple of teenagers with the Christmas spirit in them.

John was trudging downstairs to see if Santa had left any of those shortbread cookies, but heard something odd from the family room. He was about to investigate, but heard something that sounded very distinctly like a Stiles happy noise, and decided to have a coughing fit and remind those two that they were not only not alone in this abode, but that the assorted parents and cousins would be returning soon and unless Stiles wanted to come out to the family in the most aggressive way possible, they better take it upstairs.

Derek managed to blush harder than Stiles did, but both had received the message, and put away the tags and pens before retreating to their room sheepishly. But they knew that John had probably seen this coming, and wasn’t going to judge them for it.

When they crawled into bed, Stiles didn’t have to wait to feel that arm around him, the press of heat against him, safe and warm. Derek kissed the back of his neck, and he could feel the smile against his skin.

Derek heard the family come back from the Midnight Mass downstairs, doing their best to tiptoe through and not wake up anyone.

“Ah ah ah! Mistletoe!” one of the aunts cooed, before a smack of a kiss.

“Who puts mistletoe in the middle of the kitchen.” Grumbled someone who was not getting themselves a Christmas kiss, bah humbug and all that.

The last voice was Nika. “Babcia always said there’s magic in a kitchen.”

#everchanginginks #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

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keiraknighted · 6 years

Text

The Worst Wingman

Summary: Clarke is into Finn, and asks Bellamy to be her wingman. Only he really, really sucks at it.

AO3 // ff.net

Bellamy is Clarke’s favourite co-worker. Even though she hates working at the café, and she can’t wait until she graduates and can actually do something meaningful with her life, if she’s working with Bellamy, sometimes she actually looks forward to it.

She’d had a crush on him at first, because how could someone not have a crush on that guy? He had been the one that trained her on her first day, and she’d honestly been left breathless for a moment when she saw him. And of course, she hadn’t been able to do anything right that day, because she was all too aware of him.

He’s sweet and gorgeous, and he has this dry kind of humour that matches hers exactly. But he has a girlfriend, because of course he does. So Clarke had had to get over her crush pretty fast. And okay, maybe she still has a little crush on him. But at least it’s not debilitating.

It’s the quiet part of the morning, and the only people in the café are a couple of women who have been brunching for the last three hours, and a guy using the free wifi to furiously finish his assignment he was supposed to finish last night. Clarke had given him a coffee on the house when he told her that.

“So, what did you do on the weekend, Griffin?” Bellamy asks her, rearranging the muffins in the display case for lack of something better to do.

“Well, I worked, and then I studied, and then I worked, and then I studied and then I went to sleep,” Clarke tells him.

“Did you eat?”

“Sporadically.”

“Good. If you starved to death who would I talk to at work?” Bellamy grins. He hands her a muffin. “On the house. I know you’re a starving student.”

“Oh great,” Clarke smiles. “My dinner for the week.”

Bellamy laughs, and Clarke tries not to feel to pleased with herself. It’s always a win when she gets him to laugh.

“And what did you do on the weekend?” she asks.

“Well, Octavia was out the whole weekend so I took the opportunity to lounge around the house all weekend playing video games in my underwear,” Bellamy grins. Octavia. The girlfriend. He talks about her all the time. And they obviously live together so it must be serious.

“I think I’m going to have to meet this Octavia one day,” Clarke muses.

Bellamy looks surprised. “You want to meet her?” he asks. Clarke isn’t sure why it’s so weird that she’d suggest meeting her friend’s girlfriend, but Bellamy seems completely taken aback.

“Yeah,” Clarke shrugs. It’s no big deal, right?

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees. He seems pleased. Excited, even. Or nervous? “Well, maybe we could get together sometime and I could—” Clarke cuts him off, grabbing his arm as Finn the New Guy walks through the front door. “Ow,” Bellamy says. “What?”

“I didn’t know Finn was working today,” Clarke says.

Bellamy shrugs. “Raven called in sick.”

“Hey, Finn,” Clarke smiles at him as he passes the counter and heads out the back. Finn nods, a dreamy smile on his face.

“Hey, Clarke. Bellamy.”

Clarke turns to Bellamy, once she’s made sure Finn is out of earshot. “He’s hot, right?” she says. Bellamy looks unimpressed.

“If you say so,” he says, rolling his eyes.

Finn has only been working there a couple of weeks, but he’s already become the new object of Clarke’s affection. If she’s not allowed to have a crush on Bellamy, Finn is the next best thing.

“Do you think he’s into me?” Clarke presses. Bellamy looks pained. He clearly isn’t the kind of person who wants to get involved in another person’s love life.

“Why don’t you ask him?” he huffs.

“Yeah, right,” Clarke snorts. “That wouldn’t make working with him awkward at all.”

Bellamy just looks at her. He shrugs. “I guess you’ll never know then.”

Clarke sighs, knowing the only real way to know if Finn likes her is to ask him out. But then she gets an idea. “Or…” she starts, and Bellamy already has that look on his face like he knows he isn’t going to like this. “You could be my wingman.”

“Your wingman,” Bellamy repeats flatly.

“Yeah,” Clarke says, getting excited by the idea. “We could suggest a friendly group hang outside of work. But then you help me by disappearing for a while and leaving Finn and I alone, and I can figure out if he likes me or not.”

“But we never hang out outside of work,” Bellamy points out.

“Finn doesn’t know that.”

Bellamy considers her. She can see his mind working, deciding whether or not to help her. She puts on her best begging face, hoping he can be swayed by her pleading eyes. Whether it works or not, Clarke isn’t sure, but a second later he’s relenting, blowing out a puff of air in defeat.

“Fine,” he agrees. “But you have to organise everything, and you shout me for everything we do, including food and drink.”

Clarke grins gleefully. “Thank you!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around him for a moment. “You won’t regret it.”

“I know,” he says. Clarke lets him go, aware the hug has gone on too long, and then skips out the back to invite Finn to the aquarium with her and Bellamy.

“Why’d you pick the aquarium?” Bellamy asks, the two of them standing outside waiting for Finn to arrive. Clarke has bought their tickets already, and a coffee for Bellamy. He’s already making her live up to her promise to pay for everything.

“He’s new in town, he probably hasn’t been yet,” Clarke says. “And it’s easy for you to disappear and leave Finn and I alone.”

“Right.”

“Plus, I really like penguins.”

Bellamy looks vaguely amused. “Penguins, huh?”

“Shut up,” Clarke says, giving him a soft nudge.

“No, I think it’s cute,” he laughs. Clarke feels her stomach swoop, and she quickly looks away. “Personally, I prefer seals.”

His phone rings then, and Clarke has time to rid herself of the butterflies in her stomach while Bellamy steps away to take the call. He’s not the one your interested in, she reminds herself. So what if he likes seals and thinks she’s cute? He still has a stupid girlfriend. Clarke would have suggested he bring her today, but then it felt more like a double date than a casual hang out. And she still doesn’t know if Finn is into her yet.

“Everything okay?” Clarke asks, as Bellamy returns from his phone call.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Just work. Raven called in sick again, they wanted me to cover her shift but I said I couldn’t.”

“She must be feeling awful,” Clarke grimaces.

A moment later, an uber pulls up in front of them, and Finn steps out. Clarke is about to greet him, but his phone starts ringing, and he mouths an apology as he answers it.

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fine, I’ll be right in,” he says. Clarke glances at Bellamy and he shrugs. Finn puts his phone in his pocket. He’s already giving Clarke an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “That was work. Raven called in sick and they want me to cover her shift. I really need the money. You guys don’t mind, right?”

Clarke tries not to look too disappointed, despite the fact that her main reason for being here is now bailing. She smiles brightly. “No, of course not. Go, the aquarium will still be here next week.”

Finn gives her a grateful smile and gets back into the uber. Clarke turns to Bellamy.

“This is your fault, you know,” she scowls.

“My fault? How?”

“If you’d taken the shift it could have just been me and Finn,” Clarke points out.

Bellamy grimaces. “Right. Sorry.”

Clarke stands there for a moment, unsure what to do next.

“Should we go in then?” Bellamy asks.

“Huh?” she turns to him.

“Well, we already paid,” he says. “And you still like penguins, right?”

“Obviously.”

“So let’s go.”

It’s not weird or awkward at all, walking around the aquarium with Bellamy, even if it kind of maybe at times feels like a date. They do their best to avoid the school groups, and they spend ages at the penguin exhibit. Bellamy is disappointed there are no seals, but he concedes that penguins are pretty cool too. By the time they reach the gift shop, Clarke is having such a good time she’s forgotten Finn was even supposed to be there.

“When are you working next?” Bellamy asks as the two of them finally leave the aquarium after three hours of marvelling over sea life together.

“Umm, Thursday, I think,” Clarke says. “I have classes all day tomorrow and Wednesday.”

“I’ll see you Thursday, then,” Bellamy tells her.

“We can brainstorm ways to get Finn to hang out with me,” Clarke grins.

Bellamy gives her a slight smile. “I’m sure we can think of something,” he says. “By the way,” he holds out his hand. “I got you something.” He lets a keychain hang from his fingers, on the end, a small fluffy penguin.

“Oh my god,” Clarke says, delighted. “That’s adorable. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Bellamy says as Clarke takes the keyring from him.

“What happened to me paying for everything?”

“That still stands. I just thought you might like it.”

“I definitely do.”

Bellamy smiles. “Okay. I’ll see you Thursday.”

Clarke nods, already putting the penguin on her set of keys.

They invite Finn to a movie next. After work hours, so no chance of being called in.

“Do you think he thinks it’s weird that we never invite anyone else from work?” Clarke asks. This time she and Bellamy are waiting outside the cinema, tickets in hand.

“I don’t think he thinks that much.”

Clarke side-eyes him. “You think he’s dumb?”

“No, I just think he’s too into himself to worry about what’s going on around him,” Bellamy snorts. Clarke can’t help but laugh. Bellamy may not be entirely wrong. After a second thought he adds, “He might think we want a threesome though.”

Clarke snorts with laughter, and Bellamy chuckles beside her.

“Hey guys, what’s so funny?” Finn interrupts. Clarke hadn’t even noticed him arrive.

“Inside joke,” she says quickly, at the same time Bellamy says, “Threesomes.” Clarke gives him a withering look. If Finn hadn’t thought they were angling for a threesome before, he sure as hell does now. Bellamy shrugs unapologetically.

“Okay…” Finn says. “Did you guys buy tickets already?”

“Sure did,” Clarke says, glad of a change of subject. “Row G, Seats 10 to 12.”

The three of them head inside. The plan is that Bellamy will go first, leaving Clarke and Finn to sit next to each other. Clarke had even suggested earlier that he might want to go to the bathroom or to get popcorn partway through the movie, but Bellamy had rejected the idea, saying he didn’t want to waste money on a movie he was only going to see half of. Even Clarke’s reminder that she’s the one paying couldn’t change his mind.

As planned, Bellamy goes ahead and finds his seat first. Finn is right behind him.

“Oh, hey man, this is seat ten, we’re one over,” Finn says, looking at the number on the seat. And then before Bellamy can move over a seat, Finn goes around him, leaving Clarke to take the last seat next to Bellamy. And the whole plot unravels.

Clarke glares at Bellamy as she takes her seat, annoyed that he’s screwed it up once again. She doesn’t even really want to see this movie, she’s only here for Finn.

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy whispers, leaning in close, his breath on her ear. Clarke shivers, but she doesn’t respond. She just shoves her hand into Bellamy’s box of popcorn, since she hadn’t bought any for herself, and shovels it into her mouth. Bellamy looks a little terrified.

The movie, as it turns out, isn’t that bad, and Clarke actually gets into it. About a quarter way through, Finn gets up to go to the bathroom. Clarke is honestly horrified. As much as she’d tried to push Bellamy into leaving partway through, she’s of the opinion that if you need to pee while you’re in the cinema, you just hold it.

Bellamy takes Finn’s absence as an opportunity to apologise again.

“I really am sorry,” he whispers. “We can swap seats if you want.”

“He’ll notice,” Clarke says.

“How can I make it up to you?”

“Give me more popcorn,” Clarke tells him, and Bellamy offers her the box. She paid for it after all. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but Clarke is pretty sure he’s smirking. “And I want the armrest,” she adds, putting her arm next to his.

“It’s big enough for two,” Bellamy replies. “We can share it.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, but then Finn returns, so she doesn’t argue. Bellamy shifts his arm slightly, and she’s sure he must notice how their arms are pressed together. She certainly notices. She considers moving her arm, but then she figures that’s probably what he wants, so she leaves it there. And then she spends the rest of the movie trying not to think about how their arms are touching the whole time, and how he still hasn’t moved away, and how easy it would be to slip her hand into his.

This is exactly why she’d wanted to sit next to Finn.

The movie ends, and Clarke has already forgotten what happened in it, but Finn chatters about it the whole way out. She and Bellamy are both uncharacteristically quiet.

“Alright, thanks for the movie guys,” Finn says. “See you at work.” Then he leaves. Clarke had been going to ask him if he wanted to go for a drink after the movie, but by the time she remembers, he’s long gone.

Bellamy turns to her. “You want to grab a drink?” he asks.

“I, uh—” she starts. She’s not exactly sure why she’s having trouble finding words all of a sudden. Maybe it’s because he’s standing closer to her than strictly necessary. Maybe it’s because her arm is still tingling from his touch. She does want to go for a drink, but she’s also feeling a lot like she wants to kiss him, and she thinks it’s probably wiser to just go home.

She shakes her head. “I’m kind of tired,” she says.

“Okay,” Bellamy nods, but he seems disappointed. “See you at work, then.”

“See you at work,” Clarke agrees.

“There’s a carnival in town this weekend,” Bellamy tells Clarke, the next time they work together. “You want to go?”

“With Finn, you mean?”

“Um, sure.”

“Okay,” Clarke agrees. “But we should invite some other people from work, so he doesn’t think we’re looking for a threesome.”

“Sounds good,” Bellamy agrees. “I’ll bring Octavia. You can finally meet her.”

Clarke hates the way her stomach drops at that. “Okay,” she says. “Sounds good,” she echoes.

There’s a total of six of them that end up going from work. Clarke, Bellamy, Finn, Raven, Harper, and Jasper. Clarke is the last one to arrive.

“Ferris wheel?” Bellamy suggests, as soon as Clarke has joined them. They haven’t discussed a plan yet, but it seems like Bellamy already has one. He takes Clarke by the arm and lets the others go on ahead.

“What’s the plan?” Clarke asks.

“We go on the Ferris wheel in pairs. I’ll go with Jasper, Raven and Harper can go together, and you just hang at the back with Finn and you guys can go together. Sound good?”

Clarke nods. “Where’s Octavia?”

“She’ll be here soon,” Bellamy says. Then he hurries to catch up with Jasper. Clarke falls into step beside Finn. She opens her mouth to make conversation, but then she realises she has no idea what to say to him. “It’s a nice night,” she settles on.

“Sure is,” Finn agrees. And then they settle into an awkward silence, joining the short line to the Ferris wheel.

As Raven and Harper reach the front of the line, Bellamy steps out, holding up his phone.

“Octavia just got here, I’ve got to go find her. I’ll be right back,” he promises, hurrying off.

Raven and Harper are ushered into a carriage and the wheel starts turning again. A minute later it stops. Bellamy still isn’t back yet.

“Next two,” the attendant calls.

“Which one of you wants to go with me?” Jasper asks. Clarke suddenly realises Bellamy’s mistake. She’s annoyed at herself for not realising sooner, and when she doesn’t say anything, Finn jumps into the carriage with Jasper, leaving Clarke alone, her attempts to spend time with him thwarted once again. She steps out of line, her arms folded and her lips pursed. How could Bellamy have fucked this up again?

He returns thirty seconds later, a girl with him. He’s lucky she’s there or Clarke would be giving him a verbal beat down.

“Clarke,” he says. “This is Octavia.”

“Hey,” Clarke says, holding out her hand for Octavia to shake. She tries not to feel jealous of Octavia’s beauty. Dark hair and piercing green eyes, and cheek bones to die for.

“Great to finally meet you,” Octavia says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” She gives Bellamy a knowing glance, and Bellamy rolls his eyes. Clarke isn’t sure what that means.

“Oh,” Clarke says. “Same.”

“He told me about the penguin key ring,” Octavia continues. “What a fucking dork, right?”

“Um…”

“Octavia,” Bellamy says, warningly. “Can you not?”

“You guys should go on the Ferris wheel,” Octavia says, much to Clarke’s surprise. “I’m going to get some food. You want anything?”

Clarke shakes her head.

“I’m good,” Bellamy says, and Octavia flounces off towards the hotdog van. Bellamy turns to Clarke.

“You fucked it up again,” she rolls her eyes. “I can’t even be annoyed at you anymore. It’s my own fault for continuing to use the worst wingman of all time.”

“Sorry,” Bellamy says sheepishly. Except he doesn’t seem that sorry. “You want to go on?” he gestures to the Ferris wheel.

“I don’t even like the Ferris wheel,” Clarke huffs.

“Me either,” Bellamy agrees. “Let’s go play some kind of rigged ring toss game and I’ll see if I can win you another penguin,” he grins.

“Okay,” Clarke concedes. Bellamy grins wider, and he slings his arm around her shoulders, leading her towards the ring toss. Clarke’s heat beats rapidly at the contact. It can’t mean anything. His girlfriend is only a hundred metres away. Those two have the weirdest relationship Clarke has ever encountered.

He keeps his arm around her shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Clarke makes no move to stop him. He only drops his arm when they reach the ring toss and he has to hand over some money to the attendant.

“Get ready to be impressed,” Bellamy tells her confidently.

Clarke raises an eyebrow in amusement. Bellamy misses the first shot. And the second one. The third one almost looks like it’s about to go on, but it bounces off and lands on the ground.

“Very impressive,” Clarke says seriously.

“Thought so,” Bellamy says, a smile playing on his lips.

“You almost as good at ring toss as you are at being a wingman,” Clarke teases.

“Hey, I resent that,” Bellamy says, mock offended.

“Please, you are so bad at wingmanning me, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were doing it on purpose.”

Bellamy doesn’t reply right away, and Clarke frowns at his guilty expression.

“Oh my god, are you doing it on purpose?” Clarke accuses.

“No!” Bellamy says quickly. “Well, not totally. I didn’t set out to ruin your dates with Finn. I think it was subconscious.”

“You subconsciously ruined my dates,” Clarke repeats flatly.

“To be fair, I think you subconsciously wanted me to ruin them.”

“That’s not your call!”

“I know! I know. I’m sorry,” Bellamy says, and he does seem genuinely sorry. He pauses. “Are you really into Finn? Cause if you are, I swear I’ll—”

“Of course I’m not really into Finn,” Clarke huffs. “He’s self-centred and boring. But I can’t have who I actually want, and I thought Finn was a good distraction.”

“Who do you actually want?”

Clarke ignores the question. “Why did you ruin my dates? Just because you thought I wasn’t really into Finn?”

Bellamy shrugs. “That was partly it.”

“And the other part?”

“I didn’t want you to be with anyone else.”

“Anyone else?”

“Other than me,” Bellamy says, swallowing.

Clarke stares at him. She’s sure she must have heard wrong. “But… but… you have a girlfriend,” Clarke manages to choke out, despite her churning stomach and her whirring mind.

Bellamy frowns. “No, I don’t.”

“Octavia…” Clarke starts.

Bellamy looks aghast. “Clarke,” he groans. “Oh my god. Octavia is my sister.”

“Your sister.”

“Definitely not my girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

Bellamy licks his lips. He steps a little closer to her, so their bodies are almost touching. “So, the person you actually want…” he murmurs. “I’m really, really hoping it’s me.”

Clarke looks up at him, electricity running underneath her skin, his proximity making her head all foggy. “Obviously,” she says. The word is barely out of her mouth before Bellamy’s lips are on hers, her body moulding to his as his arms circle around her waist. The world spins, and Clarke clutches on to Bellamy, losing herself in his kiss.

Whether he kisses her like that for minutes or hours, Clarke can’t say, but when he breaks the kiss, it’s too soon. He doesn’t let her go though. He brushes his lips across her face softly, and Clarke feels like she might die.

“I have wanted to do that since the second I saw you,” Bellamy admits.

“If you had, it probably would have saved us a lot of trouble,” Clarke breathes. Bellamy chuckles, and Clarke can feel it in his chest. “Are you going to tell everyone I thought Octavia was your girlfriend?”

“Of course,” Bellamy grins. “That’s hilarious.”

“Well I’m going to tell everyone you sabotaged my dates instead of just asking me out yourself,” Clarke tells him.

“That’s fair.”

“You know, in a way, Finn turned out to be your wingman,” Clarke muses. “And he was better than you at it, and he wasn’t even trying.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one who got the girl,” Bellamy says. And then he kisses her again.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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klaineanummel · 6 years

Text

eighteen going on extinct 11/20

Kurt Fabray just wants to relax after a tough week at school, but that is shown to be impossible when he realizes that his absent father has once again blown into town. Not wanting to spend more time around him than necessary, Kurt goes to his old babysitters house, the one place he feels safe when his father is in town. While there, he stumbles upon a secret he knows he was never meant to find out - one that could change the entire course of his life.

An AU very loosely based on Mamma Mia.

Hello everybody!!!! I'm so sorry that it's been so long since I posted. My wifi is super spotty right now, and will continue to be for at least the next two weeks. Because of that, I'm posting two chapters today (chapter 12 will come shortly after this one) and I might post one tomorrow, since I don't actually know when I'll be able to post again after that (potentially not until November 7 or 8, but I might be able to squeeze a chapter in in-between).

Warning that you're not going to be happy with Quinn in this chapter, but I hope you will try and be empathetic as well. Abusive relationships, even if the abuse is emotional and not physical, are difficult, and people in them don't always make the best decisions.

I hope you enjoy, and I'll see you in a bit with chapter 12!

Previous Chapter | Read on AO3

Monday morning dawns bright and early, and Kurt is surprised when he opens his bedroom door to find his mom sitting on the couch, a large bowl of cereal in her lap.

“Mom?” he asks, taking a cautious step toward her. “What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

She shakes her head. “Called in,” she whispers. “I couldn’t… the thought of being there…”

“Hey,” Kurt says, hurrying to her side. “It’s okay. I get it. Last night was rough.”

Her eyes begin to water, and Kurt pulls her close to him, though he makes sure to keep his burnt hand (covered in an old strip-cloth bandage to keep the numerous burn dressings – which their next-door neighbor miraculously had – in place) elevated and away from her body.

“He was just drunk,” his mom says, though Kurt isn’t sure if she’s speaking to him or to herself. “He was just drunk.”

“Exactly, mom. He was drunk. After he specifically told you he wasn’t going to fall off the wagon again.”

“I provoked him.”

“No,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “No, stop right there.”

“It’s true, I did.”

“No, it’s not, and you know it. He’s the dick, not you. Remember what you told me last time he got drunk? That I didn’t put the beer in his hand or shove it down his throat?”

She shakes her head fondly and smiles up at him despite the tears in her eyes. “Why did I raise you to be so smart?”

“Rookie mistake?”

“That’s gotta be it,” she says, leaning back in close to him. “How’s your hand?”

Kurt doesn’t get to respond, though. The door opens slowly, and the sound of boots walking in rings through the apartment.

Puck peeks past the wall separating the living room and the kitchen, and Kurt feels his jaw tense.

“Um. Hey.”

“You,” Kurt hisses, but before he can say anything else, Quinn is out of his arms and running at Puck.

Kurt hopes more than anything that she will slap him across the face and force him right back out.

Of course, that isn’t what happens.

“You came back,” she says, throwing her arms around Puck’s middle and hugging him close.

“Of course I did,” Puck says, his own arms coming around Kurt’s mom. Kurt’s stomach turns at the mere sight. “I was… Fuck, Quinn, I was so stupid last night. I don’t know why I said that. I don’t even know why…” He shakes his head, then pulls Quinn away from him so they’re looking into each others’ eyes. “It’s the last time, okay? I’m never going to get like that again.”

“I’ll help you, okay? Just like last time. I’ll help you get better.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Quinn,” Puck says, pulling her close once more.

Kurt can’t watch any longer. “Hello?” he calls out, standing up. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Puck takes a deep breath, then brings Quinn to his side, keeping an arm firmly at her side. “Kurt,” he says. “I’m really sorry about last night. I was out of line, both before and after I got drunk.”

“That means nothing to me,” Kurt says. “Mom, are you fucking kidding me? You’re just going to forget everything he did? Just like that?”

“Kurt…” she pleads.

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” Puck says, and fuck this suddenly super-understanding guy. Kurt wants to rip his throat out. “He’s angry. It’s fair. I wasn’t nice to you, or to him. But I’m going to change.”

“Did you fuck a therapist or something last night?” Kurt bursts. “Mom, you’re not seriously buying this, are you?”

“Kurt, he’s being sincere,” she says, but Kurt doesn’t want to hear it.

“Yeah, just like he was being sincere when he was apologizing for fucking my second-grade teacher. Just like he was being sincere when he apologized for taking our rent money and skipping town two days later, fucking off for a year-and-a-half. Just like he was sincere when he apologized for only sending one child support check a year for the past eighteen fucking years. Mom. He’s always goddamn sincere when he apologizes, and then he does the same thing all over again.”

Puck’s jaw twitches, and Kurt points to it instantly.

“See? He’s so fucking sincere, but he’s dying to deck me right now.”

“Kurt!” Quinn shouts. “Your father is not dying to deck you.”

“Oh, so he’s my father again, huh?” Kurt scoffs. “You know, fuck this. I’m going to be late for school.”

He goes back to his room, ignoring their murmuring as he goes. They manage to leave him alone for as long as it takes for him to change, but as soon as he’s shoving his shit into his backpack, his mom is knocking on his door and peaking in.

“Kurt, can we talk about this?”

He turns around, shoving his backpack onto his bed forcefully. “It’s never going to stop, is it?” he asks. “You know I finally thought you were realizing what a piece of shit he is. How he pits us against each other, always tries to make it him versus me. I thought you were finally realizing how you always fucking choose him, and that maybe that isn’t okay. But turns out all it takes is a couple of ‘I’m sorry’s’ and soulful puppy dog eyes, and you’re back in his arms like you’re fucking sixteen again.”

“Kurt, you don’t understand,” Quinn says, shutting the door behind her with a silent click. “He made a mistake.”

“He made a thousand fucking mistakes,” he says, arms raising in the air. His eye catches on his bandaged hand and he waves it in front of her. “How about this, huh? How about the fact that he fucking lunged at me and I burnt my goddamn hand moving away from him?”

“That’s not how that went, Kurt,” she says, keeping her voice far too calm.

“Oh, right. So, I just fucking backed up against the burner for no reason, because I’m that stupid.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, whatever you are saying, I don’t want to hear it,” he says. “I’m tired of this shit.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to Finn and Rachel’s after school today.”

“Kurt --”

“No,” he says, turning around and zipping his backpack up, then slinging it over his shoulder. “I need some time away, from him, and from you.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and she reaches forward to him. “Kurt, please.”

“Stop, mom,” he says, dodging her attempt at contact. “Just stop. I get it now,” he shakes his head. “No matter what happens, no matter what you say… you’re always going to choose him.”

“Kurt,” she pleads, but Kurt is done.

He pushes past her out of his bedroom and out into the living room. Puck is still standing there, staring down at his nails like he can’t wait for this all to be over. Kurt scoffs. Yeah, he thinks, sincere apology, my ass.

“You,” he says, pointing an accusing finger at the man. “You better smarten the fuck up.”

“Look, Kurt, I told you I was –”

“No, you look,” he spits. “You somehow got the most amazing woman in the world to love you despite the fact that you are a literal piece of human garbage.” He can feel his mother’s eyes on him, but he refuses to look back at her. “You better start to treat her fucking right, or I will actually beat the shit out of you; even if the test proves that you are my father.”

Puck doesn’t say anything, seemingly stunned at the threat of violence. Kurt is a bit stunned himself. He’s never considered himself a violent person before, but right at this second, staring up into the eyes of the man who has ruined and continues to ruin his mother’s life, all he feels is the urge to punch.

He pushes past Puck before the man can regain his sense of speech, walking out of the apartment and letting the door close with an audible slam. He hurries down the hall and down the stairs, wanting to get out of there as soon as he can.

Somehow, he ends up at the bus stop earlier than he usually would and has to wait a good fifteen minutes before the bus rolls up. He jumps on, slumping into a seat near the back entrance, as per usual, and shoving his backpack beside him. He bounces his leg to the music in his earphones, anger flowing through him.

He’d texted Finn about the situation as soon as he got to the bus stop, but he hasn’t heard back from him yet. He guesses the man is preparing his lessons for the day, so he doesn’t mind; he just hopes he gets it in time to tell Kurt if it won’t work.

A couple of people glance at his hand as the bus fills, but Kurt just sneers at them. Whatever. He’s already been the topic of the school’s useless gossip mill for the past few weeks. Might as well give them something else to talk about.

The bus finally reaches Blaine’s stop and the boy gets on, flashing his bus pass with a small smile before heading right to where Kurt is sitting. Kurt pulls his earphones out of his ears, already feeling his spirits lift a little.

“Whoa,” Blaine says as soon as he sees Kurt. “What – Your hand!”

“Yeah,” Kurt nods, pulling his backpack onto his own seat. “I burnt it pretty bad.”

“On what?!” Blaine takes cups Kurt’s injured hand gently between his own, as though his touch alone will help to heal it.

“Stove,” Kurt says. “I’m going to have a wicked scar.”

“What in the world happened?” Blaine asks, hands closing softly over Kurt’s, cradling it in his warmth. Despite everything, Kurt can’t help but smile.

“I got into a fight with Puck while I was making supper,” he says. “He moved toward me aggressively and, like a moron, I backed away right into the lit burner.”

Blaine tuts, shaking his head. “You’re not a moron. I’d be scared, too, if an angry man was advancing on me,” he brings Kurt’s hand up to his lips and presses a kiss over the bandaged palm. “There,” he says, grinning. “All better.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says, missing the warmth of Blaine’s hands as soon as he takes them away. “It feels better.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” Blaine replies with a wink. “Seriously, though, are you okay? Burn aside.”

Kurt shrugs, hugging his backpack closer to his chest. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m obviously pissed as hell at Puck, but I’m also kind of pissed at my mom.” He frowns as the words come out of his mouth, almost tasting wrong. “I hate that,” he says. “I hate being mad at my mom.”

Blaine puts a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Kurt glances around the bus, shaking his head. “Not here,” he says.

“Oh, so we’re putting a stop to all the deep talks on the bus?” Blaine asks, voice lilting teasingly. “Because I was really excited to tell you more about my childhood on the bus ride home.”

“Guess you’ll just have to tell me at lunch instead,” Kurt winks.

Blaine chuckles. “Only after you tell me why you’re mad at your mom.”

Kurt presses his lips together for a moment, then nods. “Deal.”

By the time lunch time rolls around, Kurt is ready to pull his hair out. People have been staring at him and whispering all goddamn day. They keep staring at his bandaged hand and then turning to their friends and mumbling to each other.

He’s sick of it.

“I fucking burned it,” he snaps at a couple of freshmen, who instantly turn bright red and look away.

“Rough day, huh?” Blaine asks as he walks up to Kurt’s locker. If anything, his being there only seems to make people turn to each other and whisper harder.

“Would have been better if people didn’t keep whispering about me right in front of my goddamn face,” he says, loud enough for everybody doing exactly that to hear.

“Oh, yeah,” Blaine says, a fake smile appearing on his face. “Apparently you’re hot news again.”

“My stupid hand, right?”

“A little,” Blaine replies as they start to walk down the hall. “I’m part of it, too.”

“Really, now?”

“Yep,” Blaine’s smile widens. “Apparently you’ve officially hit rock bottom, going from the Incredible Scott Smith to little ol’ me. So far I’ve heard people whispering about how I’m not as hot as, or as smart as, or as athletic as, or as rich as, or as good in bed as their all-powerful overlord.” His face becomes even more manic, eyes expanding impossibly. “I don’t even want to know how they figure the last one.”

“Christ,” Kurt rolls his eyes. “So, I went from not being good enough for Sebastian to being too good for you? What the literal hell.”

“I know, right? How fun is this school?”

Kurt snorts. “Why do you think you’re my only friend?”

“Not for my looks, brains, athleticism, money, or sexual abilities, that’s for sure.”

They find an empty classroom and head inside, falling into two desks at the far side of the room.

“It’s so goddamn stupid,” Kurt says. “Like, why does anybody even care about me? Sebastian’s gone, they can leave me alone now.”

“Apparently not,” Blaine shakes his head. He opens his lunch bag, then stops and gives Kurt a look he doesn’t like at all. “Actually, before I forget, I need to tell you what people are saying about your hand.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Kurt rolls his eyes. “Fine, lay it on me.” Blaine looks apprehensive, so Kurt just says, “Blaine, I’d rather hear it from you then from one of the dipshits on the football team. Just tell me.”

“Yeah, so,” Blaine clears his throat. “The rumor going around is that your mom caught us in bed together and got so mad she broke your wrist.”

“What the fuck, that doesn’t even – the bandage doesn’t even reach my wrist how do they—” Kurt stops, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm the fury rushing through him.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m glad I heard it from you, because if I heard anybody else talking shit about my mom like that, I would have decked them.”

“Really?” Blaine asks, something crossing his eyes that makes Kurt instantly feel guilty.

Kurt sighs. “No,” he says honestly. “I’m not actually the violent type. I mean, I did tell Puck I’d beat the shit out of him if he didn’t start treating my mom better, but he evokes a special kind of anger inside me.”

“Right,” Blaine says. He doesn’t look fully convinced.

“Seriously, I talk a big game, but I can’t fight for shit. Sebastian was so upset when he found out his ‘bad boy rebellion boyfriend’ couldn’t even throw a punch.”

Blaine narrows his eyes at him for a moment, then asks, “Have you dated anybody other than Sebastian?”

Kurt freezes. “What?” he asks. “Why?”

“Sorry,” Blaine says, pulling his sandwich out of his bag. “That must have seemed random. I just… you never talk about any other ex-boyfriend’s. Just Sebastian.”

Kurt ponders the question for a moment, brain still trying to catch up with the shift in conversation. “I never actually thought about that,” he says. “I, uh. I guess I haven’t. Not really.”

“Not really?”

“Yeah, like, I’ve gone on dates, or whatever, but never anything serious until Sebastian.”

Blaine stares down at his sandwich, picking at the crust. “Did you love him?”

Kurt’s throat dries. He swallows thickly, and his heart starts to pound. “I thought I did,” he says.

Blaine nods, picking at his crust a little bit more. Then, he looks up, smile just a little bit too wide to be real. “Well, I guess I have my work cut out for me, huh? As your Rumor Boyfriend and all that. Everyone already says you must be constantly comparing me to Sebastian, and now I know you loved him…”

“I thought I loved him,” Kurt corrects quickly. He sucks on a cheek, deciding if he should say anything, then decides to fuck it all and says, “Those rumors are correct, though. I do compare you to Sebastian.”

Blaine’s entire face falls. “What?” he asks, voice cracking. “Are you serious?”

Kurt nods. “Yep,” he pops the ‘p’. “Like, for example, every time we have a conversation, even if it’s about you, you always end up asking me how I’m doing, or how I’m feeling. Then after those conversations, you follow up. You actually care about all the shit going on with my family. Sebastian never even asked to meet my mom.”

Blaine’s face brightens slowly as he seems to realize what Kurt is saying. “So, I’m the winner in these comparisons?”

Kurt scoffs. “Are you kidding? You’re like, the champion. Sebastian has nothing on you.”

“Even though you thought you loved Sebastian?”

“Thinking you love someone and genuinely liking someone are two totally different things,” Kurt says. “Blaine, you and I are friends. That’s not something I could ever say about me and Sebastian.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow. “And the hot thing?”

Kurt rolls his eyes, though he can’t stop the smile creeping up his lips. “Okay, you’re pushing it.”

“What about the sexual prowess thing?” Blaine wiggles his eyebrows. “Am I better in bed than Sebastian?”

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Well, I wouldn’t know, but I’m guessing yes.”

Blaine smirks. “He was that bad in bed, huh?”

“Oh, no,” Kurt shakes his head. “Sebastian was awesome in bed.” He shrugs, going for nonchalant. “I just have a feeling that you’d be way better.”

Blaine stares at him with wide eyes and parted lips as he says it, and god, Kurt likes him so much. If it weren’t for Blaine’s stupid no-dating rule, he’d kiss him.

He glances down at Blaine’s lips, then up to Blaine’s eyes. He catches Blaine looking at his lips as well.

Fuck.

Should he kiss him?

Blaine leans in a little, and Kurt feels the pull, leaning forward as well.

Before their lips can touch, Blaine pulls away. “So, um, tell me about the issues with your mom,” he says, voice higher than usual.

Kurt pauses where he is, hand clenching into a fist where it sits atop the desk. He takes a deep breath, then sits back up, levelling Blaine a hard look. “What about my mom?” he asks, all too aware of the bright blush coloring Blaine’s cheeks.

“You said you were mad at her, too, not just Puck. Why?”

Kurt shrugs, trying to diffuse the awkwardness lingering around them. “Puck got really drunk last night, and when he came home he told mom she had to choose between him and me. She said she didn’t want to, but that she’d choose me if it came down to it, so Puck left. Then this morning he comes back, feeds her some sob story about how he’s going to change, how things will be different, whatever, nothing we haven’t heard a million times before,” he rolls his eyes. “And the moron fucking believes him. She just ran into his arms and basically told him none of it mattered and that she’d love him forever and ever no matter what.”

Blaine lets out a low whistle. “Wow,” he says, deadpan.

“Pretty much,” Kurt says. “So I told her I was going to stay at Finn and Rachel’s for a bit,” he says. “Well, if they’re okay with it. I haven’t heard back from Finn yet.”

“If you can’t stay there, I’m sure Burt would take you in,” Blaine says. “At least for a night or two.”

Kurt smiles thinly. “Thanks,” he says, though what he really wants to say is, “And do you think you could stop teasing me with the implications that you want more than just friendship with me if we were under the same roof at night?”

“Anyway,” he says, ridding his mind of the thought, “I’m just annoyed that my mom keeps falling for the same dumb shit over and over. And I’m annoyed that she drags me into it. She knows Puck and I don’t get along, that apartment is like a toxic waste site, but she refuses to do anything about it. She’ll never kick him out, even when he pulls bullshit like last night.” He shakes his head. “You know the worst part? For a minute there, I actually thought she’d changed.”

Blaine tilts his head a little. “How do you mean?”

“He was being an asshole when I burned my hand, and so she told him to either get me some ice, or to get out. He didn’t get me the ice, so she made him leave. She’s never done that before,” he looks down at his bandaged hand. “Didn’t matter, though. She still fucking took him back, like it was nothing.”

“Maybe it isn’t nothing,” Blaine says. When Kurt raises an eyebrow at him, he hesitantly continues. “I mean, I don’t know your mom, but from what you’ve told me this was clearly an important step forward. Maybe… I don’t know, maybe she’s realizing she’s been wrong all this time to keep him in your lives, but she’s still trying to cling to their relationship?”

Kurt sighs, slumping in the chair. “I really hope you’re right,” he says. “But even then, I don’t know if she’d ever actually get to the point of kicking him out of our lives,” he stares past Blaine, out the window. A few red leaves blow by. “I just hate how it’s come between us. I hate that she’s always putting her desire to be loved by him above the well-being of our family.”

Blaine nods pensively. “It isn’t fair to you,” he says.

“No,” Kurt agrees without hesitation. “It isn’t.”

He finally gets a text back from Finn by sixth period, informing him that he is always welcome in their home. He asks what happened, and Kurt texts back that he’ll explain later, and then apologizes for not being in contact more since they came to his house.

Finn, of course, tells him that it’s no problem. Because that’s just how Finn is.

He finds Blaine after last period so they can walk to the bus stop together, even though Kurt is going to have to cross the street and take the bus coming the opposite way to get to Finn and Rachel’s. Blaine pouts about how he’s missing out on more deep talks, and Kurt hates how cute it is.

He waits for the bus with Blaine, knowing the one on the opposite side of the road won’t come for at least ten minutes after the other bus leaves. Blaine tells him about his annoyance with his lab partner in Chemistry as they wait, then promises to text Kurt about how terrible the bus ride is without him.

He keeps that promise, and Kurt has to stop himself from grinning when every new text update from Blaine comes in. Blaine is always sassier in his texts than he is in person, and Kurt loves it.

They keep texting until Kurt arrives at Finn and Rachel’s house, when he begrudgingly tells Blaine that he’ll probably have to step away from his phone for at least an hour as he fills Rachel and Finn in on what’s been going on.

From: Bowtie Blaine

Fine, but I’ll miss you.

Kurt isn’t sure whether to grin or groan. Blaine and his mixed signals are going to drive him crazy one of these days.

From: Kurt

Careful now. I’m going to start thinking you like me.

Blaine’s answer comes in a flash, and it makes Kurt’s heart ache.

From: Bowtie Blaine

I think you know by now that I do.

He pockets his phone, arriving at Finn and Rachel’s house. Despite wanting to follow this rabbit hole, maybe even bring up the almost-kiss from lunch, Kurt knows he should be present for the conversation about to follow.

He rings the doorbell and Finn answers in a second, pulling him close and wrapping him in his arms. Kurt closes his eyes as Finn’s familiar scent envelops him, and wonders if this is what it feels like to be hugged by a father.

“Alright, you,” Finn says, putting his arm around Kurt and dragging him into the house. “Tell me everything that happened, okay?”

He sees Rachel peeking out from the dining room, a bottle of water in hand. “I think you mean us, Finn,” she says, glaring at her husband. “Tell us everything that happened.”

Kurt smiles as Finn sticks his tongue out at her, letting the man lead him into the dining room. There’s a plate of fruit on the table, as well as a bowl of chips and a couple of cans of Coke. Kurt’s stomach warms at the sight of it, as well as the thought of Finn and Rachel going to the trouble of preparing this for him.

“Seriously, Kurt,” Finn says as they sit down, Finn beside Kurt and Rachel opposite them. Finn’s hand comes up to Kurt’s shoulder and squeezes it softly; comfortingly. “Tell us what happened.”

Kurt just shakes his head and says, “Every-fucking-thing, guys. Every-fucking thing.”

Chapter Twelve

#klaineanummel fic #klaine fic #klaine au #klaine #fic: egoe #multi chapter

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