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queenofthequillandink · 1 year

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Drawings from Tucker's sketchbook to go with the latest chapter of my DPxDC crossover fic Unearthed, Reborn! Everyone please know that Tucker draws better than I do, but I'm doing my best.

Image IDs and a clearer idea of who's writing what below the cut.

[Begin image ID: A series of nine photos showing two sketchbooks pages with black and white pencil drawings. Page one shows hero costume designs for Jason Todd and Sam Manson, with comments written in varying handwriting. The second page shows a costume design for Danny Fenton.

The first closeup shows Jay with his ghostly wings out, hair color-swapped to be mostly white with a black stripe, and wearing simple, functional armor. He is in an action pose, wings extended and lunging to the side. An arrow points to his wings with "WING ARMOR" written in Tucker's handwriting. Sam responds, "you didn't draw the back because you don't know what it looks like, do you?" Tucker writes, "NO PROOF"

The second closeup shows Jay's armor in greater detail, with more notes. One arm on the basic drawing model is extended to the side. Black-shaded hands are labelled, "GLOVES" by Tucker. Danny responds, "no fingieprints," to which Jay has written, "Blocked." An arrow points to the same arm, labelled by Tucker as, "REINFORCED WEAVE FABRIC (TBD)." Tucker labelled a vest with obvious plates drawn on as, "ARMORED PANELS." The model wears a utility belt, labelled with the exchange, "Tucker: UTILITY BELT. Sam: sometimes the Bats have good ideas. Tucker: BASICALLY." Tucker has labelled the elbow and knee pads, "WEAPONIZED POINTY BITS." Danny responded, "nice." Next to the boots, Jay wrote, "Combat boots?" Tucker responded, "WHAT AM I, A SCRUB? OFC." Jason wrote, "Nice"

Below the model is a bust closeup of Jay's costume. It shows a pointy-fronted hood attached to a "vest" that only extends to just under Jay's armpits. Black face paint covers the area over the eyes and a plain mask covers the model's nose and mouth. Danny drew an arrow to the hood and wrote, "Assassin's Creed mfer." Tucker responded, "SHUT," underlined once. On the other side, Sam drew an arrow to the face paint and wrote, "emo." Tucker responded, "SHUT," underlined twice. Beside that, Jay wrote, "Will the hood stay on?" Sam replied, "only time & copious bobby pins will tell."

The third closeup shows Sam's costume in detail on a plain model, in the same one-arm extended pose. She wears a skin-tight undersuit, gloves, a leaf-pattenered scalemail shirt that reaches her elbows, layered pauldrons, an uneven hem overskirt, and knee-high boots. The vague shape of a weapon hangs on her right hip. Above the head, Jay wrote, "hood buddies!"

Around the model are various labels in Tucker's handwriting, including, "LEAF PATTERNED LIGHT SCALE," "GLOVES," "REINFORCED UNDER LEGGINGS (I'M NOT A MONSTER)," and "REINFORCED FABRIC." This last label points to an outstretched arm. Next to her skirt, Tucker wrote, "NOT A MINI SKIRT =]" and Sam responded, "unfortunately, i can't get mad bc i love it." Beside the boots, Sam asked, "steel toe?" When Tucker responded, "TITANIUM TOE," she replied, "hand in marriage."

Below the model is a closeup of a row of the overlapping, slightly curved leaves that make up the scale. Danny wrote, "dude, how many of these did you make?" Tucker replied, "TOO MANY."

To the right of the model is a bust closeup on Sam's hood, pauldrons, and the top of her scalemail shirt. She has the same eye-covering black streak and plain face mask.

The fourth closeup shows the same bust. It also shows a medieval mace, labelled all over in Danny's handwriting. It says, "extra grip," on the handle, as well as "twist here," with a second arrow pointing to the head, labelled "for spikes here." Spikes emerge from half of the mace's head. Below, there's an exchange that reads:

Jay: why don't I get a cool weapon?

Danny: you're 5

Jay: =(

Danny: ...fine

Sam: can i get grippy gloves too?

Danny: ooooh, good idea

Below is a side profile, full-body shot of Sam in costume, hood up. She's lunging forward on one foot, both arms extended. From beneath her scale mail emerge vines, which twine around her arms before shooting forward.

The fifth closeup shows Danny's outfit on the model. It's a slightly baggy wrist-to-ankle jumpsuit and an armored vest, both in blotchy camo. The jumpsuit is tucked into combat boots and gloves, with a utility belt over top and the collar of an undersuit peeking out at the top. Danny has written, "Camo? In my costume? It's more likely than you think." Underneath, Tucker replied, "PRETEND I CAN DRAW, PLS." He's labelled the torso, "REINFORCED CHEST ARMOR." Sam drew an arrow to the mask, which is shaded black with a small fanged grin detail on it. She wrote, "this looks terrifying." Tucker replied, "IT'S SMALL! IT'S HARD TO DRAW!"

The sixth closeup shows a bust. Danny's hair is floofed upwards, black at the roots and white at the tips. His ears are pointed. His mask shows his fanged grin in greated detail, higher on the right side than the left and with overly large incisors. Sam has written, "still terrifying," with an arrow pointing to it. Tucker responded, "FINE HE'LL JUST BE SCARY."

Below, a low-detail head profile shows the mask and Danny's pointy ears from the side. Tucker has labelled it, "HOOKS OVER EARS" with an arrow pointing to straps around the ears and, "CLIPS IN BACK" with a arrow pointing to the base of the skull.

The final closeup shows Danny in costume. His right leg is emerging from shadows on the ground while he steps forward with his left left, knee bent. His left hand rests above his head on a rectangular prism with no added detail. It reaches from ground height to just above Danny's hair. He's reaching forward towards the viewer with us opposite hand.

An exchange written over the prism reads:

Danny: What's my hand on?

Jay: Dumpster, bc you're a trash man.

Danny: Ouch

Sam: oooh, get his ass

Tucker: DAMN, VISCIOUS

Danny: You're grounded

Jay: =(

Danny: You're ungrounded

Jay: =)

End image ID]

#my writing #my art #dpxdc #unearthed reborn #danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #jason todd #tucker foley #fic bonuses #dc comics #batman #original #long post

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cherry-gemz · 3 years

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Summary: This is a continuation of the movie Before We Go and my interpretation and imagination of an A/U. Brooke is you (Y/N) and Nick is still Nick :)

Prompt: "Just admit that I'm right." for @the-ce-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabbles for Nick Vaughan.

Pairings: Nick Vaughan x Y/N

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: <2k...is this a drabble still? Oopsies XD

A/N: I watched this movie for the first time just last week. It's now one of my top 3 Cevans movies! While I'm all for a romantic, serendipitous, spontaneous trope...much like Before Sunrise *no spoilers*, the ending was great, but I wanted a different spin. No pressure...yah, right! Either way, hope you enjoy xx.

Tags: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @tonystankschild @a-little-counter-esperanto

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You sniff and rub the end of your coat sleeve with your nose. Had to be the chill in the air, you thought. Not the fact that you just spent the most amazing and life changing night with a man you just met hours before and it was ending.

You stare out the train’s window; the gentle hum of the cart gliding across the steel tracks echoed in your thoughts. You shook your head in thinking that you made a mistake. I should have stayed...I should have told him how I felt…

“Nick. It's you again. Listen. I want to give you one more piece of advice. You're gonna be playing one night... Grand Central... thinking of every reason in the world to not go see the girl that broke your heart. Then, you're gonna meet somebody. And now, at first, she's gonna seem… icy. You're gonna know right away she's trouble. She's gonna take all your money. You're probably gonna get punched in the face. But stay with her; you're gonna need her a lot more than she needs you. And at the end of the night, you're gonna want to say some things, but don't. Don't ruin it. It's nothing she doesn't already know. Just give her a kiss. Wish her good luck. And thank her. Thank her for showing you that you can love more than one person in this life.”

He was unbelievably charming. You said so yourself. His raw talent with the trumpet was beautiful and different from what you were used to. The suburbia of the Boston bubble was what you were forced to live in now. You were from London, you were cultured and refined. Sure things with Michael were exciting at first, but the ho hum of the daily diatribe of routine became loathsome. Dépaysement. But you still never wavered in your marriage. Unlike Michael who had crossed that sacred line and lost your trust. It wasn't even fully the physical aspect that he went to another woman. It was the intimacy of telling her his deepest desires and then some that hurt the most. That he would want to share that with anyone else but you. But tonight. Tonight was what made you see clearly.

"It's possible, isn't it? It's possible that you could meet somebody who's perfect for you even though you're committed to somebody else," you asked as you bit your lip.

"No, no, see, I think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else."

You found yourself blushing and cupping your cheek in thoughts of Nick. He was right. The whole night was a cluster mess of you trying to get home before Michael so you'd be able to throw away that wretched note. That he'd come to his senses and forget Linny. That he'd realized he was a fool and you'd start over. Just like old times.

However, slowly that feeling of reconciliation faded away little by little as each hour in the city passed. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but somehow the scrappy trumpet player Nick Vaughan etched his way into your icy heart and left an impression and stayed.

His fluffy, dark hair - so soft and inviting for you to rake your fingers through it was enough to drive you mad. His scruffy beard, which tickled when you kissed. You already loved ghosting your palms over it softly and imagined being able to do it whenever you wished. He said earlier into the night you weren't his type; you scoffed, but we're annoyed that it bothered you. You were a classic model of what guys were into, looks wise. Sure, your attitude was what rubbed some people the wrong way, but Americans really were too sensitive.

He however...he was the full package. Every toothy grin, wink, and full hearty laugh. He was addicting. He was a dead ringer for a heartthrob, but you also couldn't hate the guy for it. He was the friend you'd call to bail you out of jail at 4am and the boyfriend that you could see settling down with. It was nauseating really.

And then his lips. His soft lips...you can’t believe you kissed him in the hotel room. And then again at the train station. But you would have kicked yourself for not doing so in the first place. The way your fingers interlaced themselves on his terry cloth robe, how desperately you wanted to press your body against his. All you wanted was for him to feel that burning need within the apex between your thighs and extinguish it all night. But it was more than that, he was what you were missing. But you were kidding yourself. You weren’t running to Michael, you were running away from Nick.

But why? Because of the unknown? Because he actually knew who you were deep down inside? How could a man you barely knew, change you? Change what you thought was true, what you thought was love?

You dove your hand into your wool jacket’s pockets to push any thoughts of self-doubt, when you realize there was a piece of cardstock. You were puzzled to find it and immediately smiled in recognizing the hotel survey card. You bit your lip as you read down the survey questions one by one and notice Nick’s handwriting at the bottom, ‘turn over’ with an arrow.

Curious you turn over the hotel card and he’s written the word ‘yes’. Yes? You furrow your brow and contemplate further what he would be saying yes to. You think about the night - the time at the bar, helping him with Hannah, when you went to the psychic reading. Yes? What in the world - and then you turn the card back over and realize that on the second to last question it asked “Will you be likely to return?”

None of the boxes are checked, but he’d written ‘yes’ on the back. Yes. Yes he’ll return? Where? To the hotel? But when? You look up and rush to think about stopping the train dead in its tracks to return back to Grand Station. You breathe out heavily and come to terms that this isn’t a movie. He’s not chasing you down the tracks, jumping on the train to find you. Or is he? You wouldn’t put it past him. The whole night was filled with serendipitous concourses, this would be icing on the cake. You dart your head around to see if he’s in the cable car. It’s like in every rom com movie ending, the man of your dreams will be right there. He’s somehow charmed his way into boarding the train and found you waiting like a princess in her high tower. The train car is dark and bleak, only a few passengers are riding it as it’s the first route to Boston on a Sunday. You peer over to see if he’s in the next cart, but alas he is not. You slump in your seat and rub your thumb methodically over his words.

"Have you ever had a feeling that somebody was going to play a major part in your life?” you ask.

“Yeah."

“Do you know the most interesting thing about hotel art? It's what's on the back.”

It’s then you realize you have to return to New York. This story wasn’t about you and Michael anymore. No, it was about the man who selflessly helped you while you were in need, not only at your dire hour, but metaphorically as well. This was meant to be. You were meant to miss your train, break your phone, and meet the handsome man named Nick Vaughn. You knew he’d still be in the city because of his audition for the day with Duke at least, if you could just get to him somehow...

Your knees bounced as you sat on a cushioned chair in the hotel lobby. You had planned to wait there all day, but then realized the $13 train ticket was your only way of providing you security back home. So you went home. Confronted Michael. Cursed, cried, and then relief rushed over you as he had read your letter and how you knew about the affair. How you wanted to throw fists on his chest and tell him how much you hated him. But once you saw him, you found it didn't matter to you anymore. Someone else was worth fighting for. Your marriage was over. The hatred and spite you once had for your husband had dissipated. Your world didn't end like you thought it would. This wasn't your only chance at love. You were choosing to be happy, whether it was with Nick or not. This was the first time you were going to jump without having a net.

And Nick was wrong. Michael didn't want to work things out, he was coming to tell you that he loved you, but that and he'd be returning to Atlanta for good. The house, car, everything was yours: Nick said so himself, you gotta be okay with not being okay. So you walked away. You made the choice just like the psychic said and took it in stride, you faced the music.

However now you found yourself back in New York. Not the once stranded woman at a crossroads less than 24 hours before, but the woman that made a choice. You were worried that Nick would see it as you running away again. Running away because Michael didn't choose you. But in reality you didn't choose each other.

Still without an ID, you took your car and better against the four hour drive to the city and hoped a cop wouldn't pull you over. You thought of the night in the hotel. The laughs, the closeness you two encountered. The playful and cheeky way he could make you feel seen. You were starting to get nervous, what if he doesn't show up? What if I missed my chance?

"I'm an idiot," you murmur to yourself. "I can't believe I'm here."

You stand up and realize there Nick was there in your path. He looked a little worn, obviously from staying up all night. But he had changed and showered from the looks of it, and his signature trumpet case held in his hand.

"Well look who it is. The biggest loser in New York."

You laughed and blushed at the sight of him. He slung his trumpet case over his broad shoulder and walked over to close the gap.

“Just admit that I’m right.”

"Admit what?" You ask as you find yourself touching his jacket sleeve.

"Admit that you couldn't get enough of me." You hitched a breath from his words.

"You can say that."

"I can't believe you came back," he responded. His blue eyes gazed into yours as he brushed away a tendril of hair from your face.

"I read your answer to the survey...on the back."

"The stay did exceed my expectations and I did say I would return," he smiles.

"And here you are."

"Here I am…" he pulls away slightly as he's reminded that you're married.

"I jumped," you replied.

He's taken back by your statement and furrows his brow.

"What? With what?"

"I told Michael it was over."

"Wow. I'm so...sorry, Y/N."

"Don't be. You said so yourself, at some point it was time to face the music."

He nodded, absorbing the information.

"Say what's in your head."

He shook his head and grinned,"I'm just glad you came back is all."

"Yeah? How'd you know?"

"I didn't. Just sure as hell hoped you would."

He intertwines your fingers with his and holds tight. Like a missing puzzle piece found, your hand fits perfectly with his.

"Whaddya say we get out of here?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I may know a place," he smiles devilishly and gives your knuckles a kiss.

You grab his dress shirt collar and turn him towards you. He runs his hands through your hair and places his lips upon yours, kissing you deeply. It's a kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after you part, neither open your eyes for a few moments afterwards and he embraces you tightly.

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere."

#drunk drabbles #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x female reader #nick vaughan #before we go #before we go spoilers #nick vaughn x reader #romance

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nancykali · 6 years

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Hey I donated 6$ and I hope it helps ❤ (Is there anything else we can do to help you? Cheer you up, fill prompts for you?) Can I ask for a "I picked up your bag at the airport but I can't find your number so I'm about to embark on the largest scavenger hunt of all times by using your strange belongings to track you down" AU for mike/el/will maybe? I'm not yet sure how it could work for an ot3 but I trust you and your amazing writing and I'm sure it's going to be super amazing and wonderful 😍

Mike had never been to an airport before the first springbreak of his college career. So it didn’t surprise him that he had managed totake the wrong bag off the baggage claim when he and his boyfriend Will hadreturned from their week-long vacation at Dustin’s family’s lake house.

And it just happened to be a bag with no ID tag on it. Only when taking the bag from the Uber driver’s trunk had Mike noticed the subtledifferences in the black suitcase telling him it wasn’t his. One peek in thefront pocket had been the damning second clue; it contained not his shavingsupplies, but a book titled Flight bySherman Alexie.

It had taken another two hours to find their way back to theairport, to the baggage claim office, only to discover that not only had no onereturned for the mystery suitcase, but no one had left Mike’s suitcase behind.

Will had comforted Mike on the way back to the dorm with theknowledge that at least Mike’s suitcase had his name, address, and phone numberattached. Whoever had it would have to return it. Mike tried to remainoptimistic, completely blocking out the price of the X Box games he’d packed inthat suitcase.

“It won’t be that hard to find her, she has to go to thesame college as us,” Will told him, seeing the guilt and chagrin on Mike’s face.Will sat across from him on the still absent roommate’s bed, as he and Mikestudied the contents of the suitcase in Mike’s dorm room (as hard as they’dtried, they hadn’t been able to get a dorm room together—Will’s room was eightdoors down the hall. Mike had counted).

“What makes you think that?” Mike said, his face almostburied in his hands, elbows on his knees.

“This t-shirt,” Will said, fishing a shirt from the pile ofhaphazardly folded clothes. It was bright red and had the phrase “Keep Calm andGive Blood” printed on the front in black letters, a silhouette of a “bleeding”jack-o-lantern in the middle.

Mike looked at Will in confusion, and Will answered hissilent question, “I have the same one. Remember last October, the blooddonation campaign? Everyone who donated got this t-shirt.”

“Oh, you’re right!” Mike said, perking up. He hadn’t gottenthe t-shirt, because he hadn’t donated blood. Needles frightened the hell outof him. The first and only time he’d tried donating blood in high school he’dfainted. Will was kind enough not to bring up the embarrassment, he simplyfolded the t-shirt and put it back.

“And we do have a name,” Mike said, picking up the stranger’sbook he’d set on his bed next to him. Inside the front cover, written in smallcursive handwriting, was the name El Hopper.

Encouraged by this information, the boys set off on theirinvestigation.

And quickly hit a roadblock.

There was no “El Hopper” listed as a resident at any of thedorms on campus. Not even anyone with the last name Hopper. They got the sameanswer when they found out who to contact from the blood donation campaign. Noone by that name had donated blood last October.

That same night, with Mike’s roommate still not back fromhis spring break vacation, Will and Mike settled on Mike’s bed to study thesuitcase’s contents further.

They’d turned up nothing useful besides that the owner was asize small, bought Herbal Essences hair products, and seemed fond of the colorpink—more than half of her clothes were a shade of pink, even the socks. Andthe swimsuit (“It’s a bikini, Mike. I know you’ve seen one before. You have twosisters.” “Shutup. This is different. Also you’re gay and I’m not.” Will wasstill smirking so Mike threw a pair of pink socks at him).

It was now nearly 10:00 and they’d ended up taking a “break”that was actually Will leaning against Mike’s headboard, reading El Hopper’sbook, Flight, while Mike rested hishead on Will’s stomach and played a game on his phone.

They both nearly jumped out of their skin when there was aknock on the door. Will and Mike exchanged glances, their expressions and theunspoken question in them mirroring each other. Who the hell could be knocking at Mike’s door at 10pm? Then—no way, it couldn’t be.

Mike shot up to answer the door while Will scrambled to closethe stranger’s suitcase. Mike peripherally saw Will scrambling back for thebook he’d left on Mike’s bed, before he turned back to open the door.

A girl stood there, and she looked to be about Mike and Will’sage. And there was no doubt—she had Mike’s suitcase next to her.

“Hi!” She said brightly, grinning at him. “Are you MikeWheeler?”

Mike blinked a couple times before he realized he was gapinglike a fish. He closed his mouth. “Uh, yeah.”

The girl glanced behind him, obviously seeing Will. Mikeglanced back too—Will was holding what had to be the book behind his back, hischeeks a cute shade of pink.

“I’m Jane,” the girl said, looking back at Mike, her smilefaltering. The guilt returned and Mike could feel his face reddening.

“I have your suitcase. The people at baggage claim said youmight have mine?” she said, tilting her head. She had dark shoulder length curlsthat framed her face perfectly. Mike’s face grew hotter.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, we, uh, have it. I—um—Come in. Please,”Mike said, stepping aside so she could get past him.

She moved past him and sure enough, she smelled like HerbalEssences shampoo.

Mike closed the door, then made a realization. “You saidyour name was Jane?”

She’d stopped in the middle of the room, feet away fromWill, who stood in front of El Hopper’s suitcase as if guarding it, though hecontinued to look as guilty as Mike felt.

Looking up at him (she had to be nearly a foot and a halfshorter than him) Jane nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry there was no ID tag on my bag.I’d never gone out of town before, it just slipped my mind.” She looked down atMike’s suitcase, then back up to him. Her grin was back. “They do look nearlythe same, don’t they?”

Mike nodded mutely, then looked over to see Will staringpointedly at him. He looked at Jane, who was also staring at him. Curiously.Why did she look at him like that?

“This is Will,” Mike said, nodding toward Will, who gave atight smile and shook Jane’s hand. They exchanged nice-to-meet-you’s and thenJane added, “Are you Mike’s roommate?”

“Boyfriend.” Mike and Will spoke in unison.

“Oh, cool,” Jane said, smiling, not at all awkward orforced. Mike could literally see the stiffness go out of Will’s shoulders.

“Um, we were trying to find you,” Will said, holding out thebook Flight to her. “But the name inhere says ‘El Hopper’. Is she a friend of yours?”

Jane took the book, laughing and shaking her head. “No, no,El is me. El is my nickname. Middle name, really. I guess,” she said,shrugging. The way she said it made Mike think there was more to it, but hewasn’t going to press.

Will turned to pick up Jane’s—El’s—suitcase and hand it toher, and seeing Will was about to offer some sort of explanation, Mike quicklysaid, “We were trying to find clues. To find you. Um. That’s why your stuff isgonna be kind of…”

Jane was looking at him, her brows raised in question. Hewas rubbing the back of his neck, all but sweating now. He floundered, tryingto find the right word. Will remained unhelpfully silent.

“…Disorganized,” Mike finished lamely.

Jane’s mouth quirked. It was not the response he expected.She glanced between him and Will.

“It wasn’t that organized to begin with,” she said, laughterin her voice.

There was a few beats of silence while Jane replaced herbook in the front pocket Mike had found it in. Mike blurted out, “Is your lastname Hopper then?”

Jane’s eyes snapped up at him, this time looking genuinelysurprised. Then even more interesting—her expression became guarded.

“No, it’s Ives. Jane Ives,” she said. There wasn’t even ahint of a smile on her face anymore. Mike bit the inside of his cheek,wondering how much he’d screwed up.

Will cut in, “So that’s why we couldn’t find out if you livedin any of the dorms. We thought we could find you that way.”

Jane looked at him and nodded. “That makes sense. I haven’thad the last name Hopper for a few years. It’s a long story,” she said, hereyes moving down and away. Then she shrugged again. “I live in the dorm rightnext to you guys actually.”

“Cool! You guys have the better dining hall,” Will said,smiling at her. She smiled back, and Mike felt a pang in his chest. He wouldn’trecognize what it was until later, and then he’d be furious with himself.

“Want to meet there for lunch sometime? Mike and I havesimilar schedules, we’re free after two most days,” Will said, adding on, “Iwant to ask you more about Alexie. I started reading it, he seems really good.”

Jane’s eyes brightened. “I love all his work. I’lldefinitely rec you more of his stuff,” she said, then glanced at Mike, bitingher lower lip. Mike only had time enough to hope he didn’t look as idiotic ashe felt.

“Are you guys free after two on Wednesdays?” Jane asked,directing her question to Will.

“Definitely,” Will said.

“Okay! Well, I’ll see you guys then,” Jane said, walking tothe door, pulling her suitcase behind her. She opened the door, then beforewalking out, made a show of checking her bag. Then she gave that same grin,directed at both of them. “Had to make sure,” she said. She winked and gave alittle wave, before shutting the door behind her.

A couple beats of silence passed. Mike grew hot with embarrassment,and turned to see Will grinning diabolically at him.

“Did you just make a lunch date…for me?” Mike said, noemotion in his voice.

“Kinda had to, you were making cow eyes at her the wholetime, I had to do something,” Will said, pulling Mike’s suitcase across the roomand lifting it onto his bed.

“You’re my boyfriend,”Mike almost yelled.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m chaperoning.”

“Chaperoning?”

“Jane seems pretty cool, I want to see her again too, y’know,”Will said, unzipping Mike’s suitcase. Still not looking at him.

Mike huffed, not replying. He couldn’t think of what to say.Will was right. Jane did seem cool. He definitely wanted to see her again, too.But why?

Then Mike saw something that made his stomach drop.

“Will, goddammit,” Mike said.

“What?” Will said, turning to him.

Mike pointed. On the floor in front of Mike’s TV stand was apair of Jane’s pink socks.

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