#it loves her so genuinely and carefully. the way she always wanted. so uncomplicated and tender and like shes the world to it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sleepyjuniper · 3 years

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HI! I am June, and I love movies! I've been working on something, and I don't usually post my work because I don't get a lot of views, but I feel what I've written here is really important, and I would very much appreciate a read, and maybe an upvote if you enjoy what you've read! I've really put my heart out on the line here, and it would be great for it to get some traction, so a movie I care about greatly can finally get some recognition.

So, Home is now back on Netflix. As a result, the passion I've always felt for this film has been rekindled, and now feels like the perfect time to bring it back to attention, to get it the praise it truly deserves. To explain, I was watching it last week and I suddenly had an epiphany. I suddenly connected more with Oh's character than I ever had before, and every little detail in the movie started to pop out at me and further strengthen this feeling. I became so obsessed with the depth of it's heavy emotional scenes and gorgeous visuals that I immediately got to writing. It gets a bit tricky to collect my thoughts every time I try to address what this writing actually is; it's not necessarily an analysis, not necessarily an essay, because it lacks direction and a real conclusion, or motive, I guess. I'm simply going in depth into the scenes that I think are most pivotal to Oh's development as a character, and providing my own personal insight into how he's thinking and what he's feeling, based on the evidence I am able to glean from what the movie shows me, rather than tells me. I'm picking into each scene and bringing to light the specific details that make it so powerful to me, and how these details allow me to fully understand and connect with the characters in a way I can't with other films.

But regardless of what it is, the more in depth I go, the more it speaks to me, and the more I understand it. The more reason I have to believe that Oh has a perfect character arc, which is so well written and perfectly pulled off, that it creates a movie that is authentic, heartfelt, and complete in every way. There's simply no other like it. Now, with no further ado, let's get into it.

Every good story starts with an introduction to the main character. The beginning scenes of Home introduce us to Oh's character perfectly. They depict him as an adorable misfit with a propensity to make mistakes, who just wants to make friends. We learn that he is widely disliked by the rest of the Boov because of his differences, that he adores Captain Smek, and that he believes Boov are best at everything. We learn a lot about his personality too. All the Boov look similar, but he is much more animated than the other Boov, moving with more energy, and appears to be in a perpetual state of excitement. He’s the only Boov we see smiling at first, and what really sets him out is the way he emotes. While most of the Boov carry neutral expressions, their eyebrows relaxed, his eyebrows are constantly raised and his eyes are wide, making them stand out much more prominently. His color changing also adds an extra layer to his character, allowing us to see even deeper into what he's feeling at any given point during the movie. The movie can tell us more, with less words. It is immediately apparent to the audience just how different Oh is from the rest of his people; we can clearly see from the get-go that Oh's emotions work differently than the rest of the Boov. And this only adds to the impact of later scenes, as he starts to experience more complex emotions and venture further into unknown territory.

When the starting conflict of the story is introduced, we learn about the first real challenge he needs to overcome. He made a mistake, and is now on the run from his own people, who want to arrest him. Right now, his motivation is simply to avoid capture. It can be assumed that until now, Oh hasn't faced danger alone. He's likely faced danger while the Boov were running away from the Gorg, but he was always facing the threat with the rest of his species. This is the first time he's been completely alone while running from something, and it's all his fault too. We can pick all of this up from context, and feel sympathy for him and his terror, which is very much justified.

When Oh and Tip first meet, they start out not liking each other, and have conflicting opinions. Oh believes the Boov are more advanced than humans because Smek said so, and he doesn't understand why Tip cares so much about one human. Conversely, Tip hates Oh because his species is the reason she's separated from her mother. They are agreeing to work together out of common interest, that's it. Oh has promised to help Tip find her mom, but he does this only to avoid capture. These scenes are full of fun quips and hilarious antics, as the movie starts to build up a foundation for Oh's character dynamic with Tip. What the movie conveys to us is that these two characters don't know each other, and don't have any interest in listening to and understanding each other.

Things really pick up later in the movie. Oh disappears for a long while, and when he returns, Tip yells at him, and he stops in his tracks, looking genuinely astounded and confused by her anger. He was especially shocked that she was afraid he'd been hurt. We can actually see the moment he does a double-take at the realization that she had been worried about him. Likely, no one has ever worried about him before. For the first time, we see him actually absorb what she's saying, listening to her with a curious expression as she tells him to try and put himself in her shoes. Tip explains to him that kids aren't supposed to be by themselves, and that the Boov's arrival ruined everything for her. When Oh says that Boov don't have families, she remarks that it's no wonder they take things and don't care about anyone else. This gives him pause, and he appears to think carefully, before speaking. No amount of explanation can really do this scene justice, so a direct quote of his monologue is needed. He says: "So, your mimom.. is a very important humansperson to you. More important than others. To not belong with her.. causes you being sad. But, recent moments ago, you are kicking on me and yelling. Which is seeming more to be mad than sad." This gives us the first true indication that Oh is trying to be more open minded. Tip tells him to try and feel how she feels, and he does. With genuine sincerity, he's trying to understand how Tip can be feeling two emotions at once. Tip looks surprised by his sincerity, and has no energy to continue talking, but she listens, and she gets back into the car when he's finished. Not only does Oh state out loud that humans are more complicated than he thought, this scene is important because it's the first time they have anything close to a genuine moment of understanding. Simply put; he sees her react in a way he didn't anticipate, is perplexed by it, and pushes aside his own belief that he already knows everything about humans, and just asks her questions to understand her better. It is the first small sign of growth we get to see from him.

Tip and Oh gradually warm up to each other more over the course of their next few escapades. Oh explains to Tip why he's in trouble, and Tip realizes he's sad, and cheers him up by teaching him about jokes. They make a plan to give Oh a makeover so they can sneak into the Great Antenna without being caught, and Tip seems amused by his antics rather than annoyed. In the Antenna, Oh helps Tip find out where her mom is, and Tip hugs him. He looks surprised and uncertain for a moment, but quickly adjusts to it and even smiles, turning orange and hugging her back. From the information we have, we can extrapolate that this may or may not be the first time he's ever been hugged, due to the Boov's aversion to both Oh and physical contact. This is the most affection Tip has expressed with him so far, and he seems to just melt into it. He also looks as if he wasn't ready for the hug to end so abruptly. It's a sensation he's unfamiliar with, but immediately decides he wants.

This is when we see Oh, specifically, starting to trust Tip a bit more and even maybe like her, and their escape from the Tower shows them working with a newfound chemistry as they outsmart the Boov. We can tell Oh is scared at several points during the scene, because his yellow coloring indicates it, but he's also grabbing onto Tip as if it gives him reassurance. He trusts her enough to at least find comfort in her presence, which is something that wasn't true of their relationship in the beginning.

Following the events of the Eiffel Tower scene, Tip starts to talk about her mom, excited to find her and maybe even come back to Paris. When she turns around, Oh is standing further away and looking at the now wrecked central command, his skin displaying a dejected blue color. What does he have to come back to after everything is over? Tip knows where she belongs, but Oh would never be able to go back to the Boov in safety after his mistake. He is questioning his belonging. Tip notices he's sad, and attempts to cheer him up. It doesn't work, but Oh does something that surprises Tip. He apologizes to her. During the confrontation with Smek, Oh finally realized how Smek was wrong for causing the misunderstandings between Boov and Humans, and that he would never accept any Boov for showing individuality. Oh acknowledges everything that he previously thought about humans was wrong, and that Captain Smek was also wrong. He even looks ashamed to tell her that in the beginning, the Boov thought humans were simple and uncomplicated, and that they needed the Boov. He tells her he thinks the Boov should never have interfered with Earth, and that he's sorry for how it affected her. He doesn't say anything during his apology that would guilt Tip into responding a certain way; just gives an honest apology, and allows her the freedom to decide how she reacts. This is something that's incredibly meaningful coming from Oh. He's not trying to get anything from her, he's just apologizing for something he was complacent in and is now feeling regretful about. It's raw and heartfelt. She hands him the keys, and he looks surprised at first, then gives a huge smile, holding the keys close to his heart and turning orange.

The following scene is perhaps the most important one in the film, and is incredibly impactful. Accompanied by the gentle tune of a song that slowly gets louder as the movie switches from dialogue between characters to simply visual storytelling, we watch as Oh and Tip take turns driving, and exchange vulnerability with each other, both describing their own experiences with being misfits. We see them laughing together, taking selfies, and just in general enjoying each other's company. Tip completely accepts Oh for who he is, and in turn he lets his walls down, and is finally able to be himself. This is a real bond they've formed. They are truly friends. Both look nothing alike, yet have so much in common.

Finally, we see Oh taking his turn driving at night while Tip sleeps, and he goes to tuck her back in when her blanket falls down. As we hear Kiezca's 'Cannonball' playing in the background (and on the radio) he takes a moment to appreciate the things in the car, discovering he does indeed enjoy them. Finally, he adjusts his mirror to watch Tip sleep, and we see him slowly turn a brand new color: pink. If you were to recap his life so far, the significance of this moment becomes clear. Oh is outgoing and friendly, but he's never fit in in his entire life. No matter how hard he tried to fit in with the Boov, he simply had emotional needs that the rest of the Boov did not, and as such they did not care about or recognize his need. Tip is the first person who has ever listened to him and gotten to know him, and accepted him for who he is. She's his first friend. In this moment, he is looking at Tip, and he's feeling something he's never felt before: love. It feels like a part of him he's always been missing has finally been found. For the first time in his life, he feels like he belongs.

We find Oh further appreciating Tip's qualities when they find the Gorg super-chip; he was afraid to go towards the ship but she convinced him, and when it worked out he realized that her idea had worked out better than his would have. He realized he can achieve things through being brave rather than giving up; essentially, if you don't even try, you can never succeed. You can see in his expression after Tip smirks at him that he was surprised; he realized he had faced his fears, all because of Tip's help.

We see a monumental backslide in his progress when he leaves Tip instead of staying by her side and fulfilling his promise. His greatest challenge is revealed to be that he's still not brave; not brave enough to put his faith in the one he cares about, not brave enough to face his fears and stick by her no matter what. We do know that he's terrified; both of being left alone, and of losing Tip. He has just found a sense of belonging with Tip that he's never felt before, and he can't bear to lose that. He tries to bring her with him, and she feels betrayed and breaks off the friendship. The detail that went into this scene makes it incredibly impactful. It's raw and filled with emotion. For context, during the course of the movie, we only see a Boov go pale in the face during a few very intense situations, and said pale-ing was usually followed by fainting. This suggests that a lack of color is indicative of a much stronger, primal emotion: dread, or pain. When Tip turns and leaves, he loses pigment. He blanches, and staggers. There's a physical impact of Tip's words on Oh. This isn't simply sadness or fear he's feeling, it's anguish. It's his world falling apart, his heart breaking. He is quite literally torn in two, as he looks back and forth between his best friend and his chance at escape, changing rapidly from red to yellow to blue and back again. It emphasizes his turmoil; the panic he feels at seeing a rapidly closing window to decide what action to take, before he turns back to what he's always known, running away. There's high stakes on both sides, and we as an audience can feel his pain, as he displays clear indecision and helplessness at this impossible choice.

As the Boov travel farther from Earth, bringing the Gorg with them, Oh and Tip have never been farther apart. As the Gorg mothership closes in, everyone runs to the other side of the ship; all except Oh, who stares it down. He knows he can save everyone. He pulls out the super-chip, his gaze hardening with determination, and runs against the flow of the crowd to plant it in the control panel. Everyone stops to stare in disbelief, crowding around him afterwards, curious to hear him speak. Smek tries to ostracize him for acting unBoov-like, and Oh directly challenges him. He tells the listening crowd that he used to believe what Smek said was right, but he'd learned things that said otherwise. He talks about the human he met, and how she's smart and brave, and has an emotional capacity for caring for others that Boov lack. During this monologue, we see his skin turn pink again as he talks about Tip, reminding us as that he does still care about her. This also reminds him of his own actions, and he turns blue, concluding his speech by saying that the Boov may be better in some ways, but not in the ways he thinks are most important now. He realizes that Tip has strengths that are/would have been useful many times for the Boov. This is when it becomes apparent that he's regretting leaving; Tip made him stronger, and he now knows he can be as brave as she is.

Which is why it's an incredible payoff scene when he is made leader. He's surrounded by Boov who are cheering for him, but he feels lonelier than ever. He wanted to be accepted, but he wasn't ready to be looked up to. It doesn't feel right, he doesn't belong here. When he watches the view of Earth grow smaller as it fades into the distance, he actually cries, and catches a tear as it rolls down his cheek, a pensive look crossing his face. He pulls out Tip's keychain, and all in one instant he realizes why he's so miserable. He doesn't feel like he belongs here, because he belongs with Tip. It's where he's meant to be. He turns pink, looking hopeful, and in the next scene he turns up on earth, by himself, and finds Tip. It's not really necessary to explain why this is an important development; we can see everything there is to be said in the way they compose the scene. There's also the parallel shots where we see Tip and Oh both pushing through crowds and both looking completely alone despite all the people around them, emphasizing that they need each other. Oh just had to figure out he could follow Tip's example, what he'd learned from her bravery, to realize he could still salvage things. He realized a life feeling alone among the Boov was worth nothing, and a life with someone he truly cares about is worth facing any danger, no matter what may come.

Oh and Tip are reunited, and he tells her what he learned, that he realized she's his friend, and he belongs with her. You can see from the look they share that both of them feel this way. They've come full circle, to a full understanding and acceptance of each other.

Oh helps Tip find her mom, finally fulfilling his promise, and when the Gorg attack and he realizes it's because of the Boov, he tells Tip he's fixing his mistake, protecting the reunited family by making it so they're unable to chase him and be put in danger. He loves Tip, and he wants her and the human she cares most about to be safe. He's not about to let her risk losing that. So, bravely, yet stupidly, he runs to the Gorg mothership and holds up the thing they've been chasing the Boov for all this time. He tries to do it on his own, which is a major sign of his growth as a character, but the only reason the Gorg actually see him is because Tip has his back. He was fully prepared to sacrifice himself. When the ship is closing in on him, and the dust and sparks are blinding him, he turns around, and sees Tip running to him. He smiles, his trust fully in her; if he doesn't get out of this, she can save everyone else. He throws the rock to her before the ship covers him, choosing to put his faith in her in what he believes to be his final moments. He went from caring only about his own survival, to caring about the survival of his best friend, and wanting Tip to help make peace with the Gorg so the Boov and humans can be safe as well.

After we see Tip mourn for Oh before it's revealed that he's okay, she pulls him in for a hug, and he immediately embraces her back, then over Tip's shoulder we see him looking at her fondly, smiling, and he turns a vibrant pink as he closes his eyes and leans into the hug. Just by the look in his eyes in this scene, we can see that he's fully appreciating this being who cared about him enough to listen to him, to stand by him and stand up for him, and run after him when he's in danger. In this moment, he's getting a second chance to embrace her, when he went in not knowing if he'd ever see her again. In this moment it was all worth it. Because he looks at her, and he is home.

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nashibirne · 3 years

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Against all odds - 2.17

Here’s the next part of my fic! I’m sorry I haven’t updated it in a while, but I hope you like this part anyway.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x ofc

Summary: Henry finally meets Lestat

Warnings: None, only mentioning of sex

NO BETA! So maybe…bad english

Tags: @hell1129-blog @willkatfanfromasia @mis-lil-red

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes

Previous Parts:

2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7 2.8 2.9 2.10 2.11/2.12 2.13 2.14/2.15 2.16

2.17

A few weeks later Anna and Henry were sitting in her kitchen, drinking coffee. They still were perfectly happy, loving each other dearly.

The premiere of Macbeth had been a huge success and so was meeting Henry's parents for the first time. They were really nice and uncomplicated. It felt natural to talk to them and Anna got along with them very well.

So now that they had taken this hurdle successfully the next one awaited them already.

"You're really ready for this dinner?" Anna asked with a frown, pouring Henry some coffee. "It's only three hours time and I'm damn nervous." she added.

"Sure. Can't wait to finally meet them." Henry gave her a reassuring look. "Really, babe."

"All right. Good." She still didn't seem to relax. "Remember what I told you, okay? Don't let Lestat provoke you."

"Anna..." Henry let out a deep sigh. Ever since they had got the news that Jonas, Julia, and Lestat were coming to stay at Braxton for a couple of days, she kept on telling him this. He knew she was tense about him meeting Lestat but he really thought she was exaggerating with giving him all these warnings and instructions for handling her ex. They had talked this through countless times and she was still worried that this dinner was going to be a disaster.

"Listen, Babe. I promise -again- I won't let him provoke me, okay. He can insult me as much as he wants, I'm not going to react."

He leaned over the kitchen table in her cottage, cupped her face, placing a tender kiss on her lips.

"Henry, that's not the point. He's not going to insult you. Lestat is much more subtle. He will try to get under your skin. To make you feel bad. To make you feel inferior. He wants to prove that you are no good for me and believe me, he's a great manipulator. You have no idea..."

He kissed her again, interrupting her mid-sentence, brushing his tongue against her lips.

"Don't try to distract me, Cavill. I'm serious. You don't know Lestat."

"Right, I don't know him because you refuse to talk about him."

"I know." Anna stared at her coffee mug, stirring the hot liquid, lost in thought.

"Then talk to me now. It's better for me to know at least anything before facing him. I mean, besides the facts I know already. He's french but grew up in Germany. He's a solicitor. You went to an international private school together. You've been best friends ever since. He was your boyfriend for almost 14 years. He had a new girlfriend but broke up with her a few weeks ago and he very likely still loves you."

"What more do you need to know?" Anna shrugged.

"I need to know what kind of person he is. What kind of man. How did he become your best friend and later your lover? Stuff like this."

Anna sighed. "All right. I'm going to tell you about Lestat Dalmasso. I don't think it will be helpful but if you want to know...listen carefully.

Right away from their first day in elementary school Anna, Jonas and Lestat were absolutely inseparable. People used to make fun of them, calling them the triplets because they were so close. Lestat was there for them when their parents died, mourning too, because he loved them almost as much as his own parents. He protected the twins, took care of them, helped them to carry on with their life. They stuck together like glue, knowing each other by heart.

And they stayed close throughout their entire time at school, although there was a slight shift in their relationship when they were teenagers. The boys were all about sports and girls at that time, both total jocks and players. Jo was captain of the rowing team, Lestat was a skilled fencer, but their favorite discipline was laying girls at parties. Anna on the other hand wasn't into parties or sports. She loved her books and her boyfriend Tom. Besides working damn hard for good grades, she spent her time at home with Tom, being the good girl her grandparents didn't have to worry about.

But still, despite the fact that Anna didn't share the boy's love for sex, sports and rock 'n' roll, they were the very best friends, sharing all kinds of worries, thoughts and joy. In the last year of school Tom broke up with Anna and Lestat was her greatest support, listening endless times to her mourning for her first love, drying her tears, making her laugh again.

After graduation Anna got a scholarship plus her uncle had pulled a few strings, so she was able to follow in her mother's tracks by studying in Oxford. It was limited to two years but it meant the world to her.

When Anna returned from Oxford it was a total shock to see Lestat again. He had changed so much in these two years when she had been in the UK. He almost seemed like a different person. When she left he was a cute teenage boy who covered up his many insecurities by an eccentric, arrogant behavior. The spoiled brat of rich french parents who cultivated acting like a dandy, breaking girls hearts by the dozen. Despite his unconventional way of dressing and his ostentatious pretentiousness he had always been the star of their school. Everybody wanted to be his friend but the only real true friends he ever had were the twins. They were the only ones who knew the boy behind the mask of cockiness. The sensitive, highly intelligent guy with all those self-doubts and issues. Their best friend who was the most loyal and caring person they knew, always reliable, always coming up with solutions and ideas. The great pretender who would let them -and only them- see his true self.

The Lestat she found in their kitchen the day she returned from Oxford was no longer an insecure boy. He was a man now, handsome, mature, witty and very attractive. Sexy. Hot. In her wildest dreams Anna couldn't have imagined to ever fall in love with him, but this was exactly what happened right away. It felt like she was struck by lightning, coming out of the blue, unannounced but wonderful. The feeling was mutual and there was no chance in fighting it.

Jonas was furious when he realized that his best friend slept with his sister. He tried to talk them out of it, tried to convince them that this could never work, that they were too different. That this would end with at least one broken heart and a shattered friendship. But love was stronger than reason. Passion made it impossible to be sensible. So finally Jonas gave up. But not without making them swear an oath. If they would ever break up they would do anything possible to save their friendship.

"So that's the reason why you don't shut him out of your life. This oath." Henry said, when she'd finished talking, holding Anna's hand, stroking it gently with his thumb. "Yes, we owe it to Jonas to save our friendship. That was the deal." she sighed.

Three hours later Anna and Henry were standing in the castle's entrance hall meeting 'the german bunch' and Milton Arnold, Viscount Brankhurst, and his new girlfriend Mary who attended the dinner too.

Julia and Jonas greeted Henry with tight hugs, genuinely happy to meet him in person. Lestat was a little more distant but not unfriendly. He shook Henry's hand, a warm smile on his lips, looking him in the eyes. "Nice to finally meet you, Henry. I’ve been looking forward to this." His english was almost without an accent. 13 years in an international school obviously paid off.

"Nice to meet you too." Henry had to admit he was surprised and impressed by Lestat's appearance. He was a tall man, taller than himself, at least 6 ft 2. He was not as broad as Henry but buff too. Athletic and fit, like someone who runs a lot, doing his cardio regularly. Moreover he was really handsome, his face narrow with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, his hazel eyes speckled with golden spots, his hair dark blonde and wavy. His suit was tailor-made, elegant and classy, giving him a distinguished look. He had a special charisma, radiating self-confidence and cockiness with a hint of snobbery. It wasn't hard to imagine that he was a lady-killer.

The dinner went quite well and everybody started to relax, having some glasses of excellent wine and delicious food. Lestat didn't seem to be looking for trouble. He was very interested in the things Henry told them about the renovation of the farm and his engagement at the Royal Shakespeare Company and he entertained the party with stories from his and the twins' childhood and youth.

After dessert George and Thomas got up from the table, preparing to leave.

"We're going to retire now, my dears, leaving the young folk to it. Enjoy yourselves and good night. Henry, please join us for breakfast tomorrow, will you?"

"Sure, thanks George." Henry answered, smiling.

After saying their goodbyes they stayed in the dining room for a while, chatting and laughing about this and that. Milton and Mary shared the story of their first date that had been quite disastrous but with a happy ending obviously. There was a slight change in Lestat's behaviour, who now concentrated on stories about Anna and himself, addressing her directly, getting quite familiar. His innuendos and almost flirty tone started to unnerve Henry, making him tense. He moved closer to Anna, laying his arm around her shoulder, kissing her tenderly on her cheek, demonstrating who now was the man in Anna's life.

Jonas seemed to notice the changing atmosphere too.

"Let's move to the drawing room, it's time for some music." he said.

"Sure." Lestat answered. "It's been way too long we made music together anyway."

The drawing room was gorgeous - light and beautifully furnished- with a grand piano placed in the corner besides the windows.

Jonas started to play some cheerful pieces of music that eased up everybody's mood.

He was a very skilled player. Henry knew he played the drums in a band in his free time but he obviously knew how to play the piano too. Which wasn't really surprising, since their mother was a pianist and their father a piano builder. After a while Anna and Jonas performed a wonderful ballad four-handed. It was the first time he heard his girlfriend sing and he was surprised how beautiful and touching her voice was. Warm and full, with a hint of roughness that really turned him on.

Lestat looked at Anna continuously, not even trying to hide his ogling from Henry.

"It's my turn now." he said after Jo and Anna had finished. Lestat started playing and everyone in the room recognized the song immediately. It was "Against all odds" and he seemed to sing it only for Anna, looking her right in the eyes. She started shifting in her seat uncomfortably, avoiding Henry's gaze. Jules and Jonas exchanged glances, obviously irritated too. Milton and Mary were too polite to show what they were thinking but Milton's forced smile gave it away anyway.

Henry was so tense now, his whole body stiffened, he clenched his teeth, his hands were balled into fists. He tried to pretend that he was fine, to play it cool, but he was sure Lestat could see right through him, reading him like an open book. He knew now what Anna had meant when she had predicted that Lestat had something up his sleeve.

"How can you just walk away from me

When all I can do is watch you leave?

'Cause we've shared the laughter and the pain

And even shared the tears

You're the only one who really knew me at all."

Lestat's voice was deep and dark, with a captivating timbre. Henry got up, standing behind Anna's seat, placing his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them gently. Anna didn't look at him, but she laid her hands on his, stroking them, building a connection.

I wish I could just make you turn around

Turn around and see me cry

There's so much I need to say to you

So many reasons why

You're the only one who really knew me at all

So take a look at me now

Well there's just an empty space

And there's nothing left here to remind me

Just the memory of your face

Now take a look at me now

'Cause that's just an empty space

But to wait for you is all I can do

And that's what I've gotta face.

Lestat didn't even seem to notice Henry, still looking at Anna only, finishing the song as if it was the most normal thing to do.

"Are we done with this shit show now?" Henry asked after the last few tones, his voice restrained, his eyebrows narrowed.

"Shit show? That's a rude way to comment on my....performance. You didn't like it?" Lestat got up from the piano chair a cocky grin on his face.

"What I don't like is another man singing cheesy love songs for my woman."

"Your woman? Do you own her now?"

"Lestat, stop it." Anna's voice was sharp like a knife. "Shut the fuck up, okay?"

"I'm not the one being rude." Lestat shrugged.

"Just leave it be." Jonas said, touching his friend's arm to calm him down.

Henry and Lestat were facing each other now, staring in each other's eyes. Henry was about to freak out. The smug smile on Lestat's lips, the challenging look in his eyes...everything about him made Henry want to punch his handsome face.

It was Milton who finally got between them, interrupting their staring contest.

"Guys, let's act like civilized gentlemen, all right? This isn't the time nor the place for this. So let's drop the topic." After a few seconds Henry took a step back, taking Anna's hand. "Sure. I'm sorry."

Lestat just nodded slowly, turning around, sitting down on a loveseat, his long legs stretched out.

"Maybe we should go." Anna said softly.

"What. Now that we're having so much fun?" The sarcasm in Lestat's voice scared her. "We haven't even started telling embarrassing stories from our life or discussing our relationships."

"Right. Let's leave it at that." Henry said, his words sounding like a threat but Lestat continued anyway, ignoring him completely.

"I mean...for example.... isn't it funny, Anna. Four men in this room, and you’ve fucked three of them...."

Anna's heart skipped a beat, her face turning red with anger and embarrassment. She simply couldn't believe he'd really said that.

"God. You never disappoint, Lestat."

"Oh, I didn't know it's supposed to be a secret." Lestat smiled innocently.

"Well, now it isn't a secret anymore." Henry was surprised how calm his voice was, because his heart was racing with fury. "But don't worry, Lestat. I've known it anyway. Anna told me about the encounter at the students party."

To Henry's big surprise it was Jonas who freaked out now. Anger in his eyes, his voice full of bewilderment.

"You touched my sister? How dare you Milton. I told you to look after her at Oxford, not to fuck her. I can't believe it...."

"I'm sorry, Jo. It was once only...."

"Oh great, fuck and go. Yeah, that sounds a lot like you..."

"Would you please stop it, Jo. This is none of your business." Anna interrupted them, almost yelling now. "What happened between me and Mils is none of anyone's business at all. We're fine with it and that's all that matters. What do you mean by 'I told you to look after her' at all? You thought I'd need a babysitter?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Screw it...I hope you're happy now, Lestat."

Anna turned around, sinking into Henry's arms, exhausted and sick of fighting, hugging him tightly. She felt like a rag doll, all tension gone from her body. Henry kissed her forehead, embracing her. "It’s all right, princess." he whispered softly in her ear. “Let’s go home”

#Henry Cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x ofc #cavillry #henry cavill

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everywhereallofthetime · 3 years

Text

Some Girl ... Part 4

Word Count: 2.34k

Warnings: None.

// * // * //

Charlotte and Shawn were sitting together on the couch, in the wonderfully cool house, taking a break from a heat which had only gotten worse since that afternoon. Shawn’s feet were up on the ottoman and Charlotte was curled up beside him, tablet in hand.

She had taken charge of the music, purposely avoiding any of Shawn’s songs, which almost always found their way into her playlists.

“You have amazing taste in music,” Shawn complimented.

“She really does,” Josh said, having overheard Shawn, plopping down beside them on the incredibly comfortable, over-stuffed sectional. “She sends me playlists all the time and they’re always amazing. Ask her to make you a playlist. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Charlotte, darling, will you make me a playlist?” he asked her, with a lazy smile.

The way he said her name, followed by ‘darling’, set her heart fluttering. “Of course I will,” she smiled back.

Josh looked over to where Annie was entertaining a giggling Sebastian. “He looks like you,” he casually said to Shawn. “He has your mouth, and the cleft in his chin is yours. He has Charlie’s eyes and nose though.”

“Thank God. I always thought my nose was too big.”

Charlotte smirked to herself. Shawn was a better actor than she expected him to be. He had played the part of ‘Peter’, and Sebastian’s dad, amazingly well all evening.

“I like your nose,” she said to Shawn, giving it a little tweak.

“I like your eyes,” he smiled, meeting them with his own. “You have beautiful eyes.”

Josh teased them by making a puking sound. “I’m going to grab another beer,” he said as he stood. “Can I get you guys anything?” he asked.

“I’ll take one,” Shawn answered.

“I’m good for now,” Charlotte added. “Thanks Josh.”

She laid her head on Shawn’s shoulder without realizing it. He didn’t mind. He liked that she felt comfortable enough with him to do so.

He followed her gaze to her baby boy.

“I couldn’t find a sitter...

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” she confessed. “I probably could have found a sitter if I had tried,” she chucked. “Elisa and Jack, or Mason, usually babysit for me. It’s hard to find someone I can trust as much as them. It’s a good thing they don’t mind, even on nights like this. They love having him around.”

“He’s such a good baby,” Shawn commented. “And so happy.”

“I got lucky. This is almost always him. Bash loves people, loves the attention, loves the busyness, but you’ll know when he’s had enough. He’ll be ready for bed before the hour is up.”

// * // * //

Shawn found Charlotte in the kitchen. He had been in the basement playing darts with Doug and Rob. Sebastian was in his arms, squirming and starting to whine. “He’s had enough. The second he saw me, he cried and nearly jumped into my arms.”

“I saw it coming,” she tittered. “I’ve already warmed a bottle. He might not be ready to eat and sleep quite yet; he usually likes a little one-on-one quiet time to wind down first.”

Charlotte went to take him from Shawn, but Shawn asked, suddenly unsure, “Could I maybe take him up and get him settled? I could use a little quiet, too.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” She handed him the bottle. “Up the stairs, first door on the left.”

Half an hour later, Charlotte was standing in the doorway to hers and Sebastian’s bedroom, leaning against the doorframe, quietly watching.

Shawn had gotten Sebastian into his pajamas and the bottle on the side table next to the rocker was empty. Sebastian was nearly asleep on Shawn’s chest.

In that moment, it was all too easy to imagine that Shawn really was Sebastian’s dad. She almost cried with the precious perfectness of it.

The young man who, only a few hours earlier, had said he hadn’t had much of a reason to sing lately, was singing softly to her son.

She wanted so badly to acknowledge it, but even more, she didn’t want to startle him into stopping.

When he finished his lullaby, he looked at Charlotte with a tint of pink, unrelated to having been in the sun, creeping from his cheeks down his neck. He knew she had been there for a while, watching and listening.

Shawn lowered his lips to Sebastian’s little head. “He smells so good.”

She smiled tenderly. “His baby scent is amazing.”

“It’s more than that. He has his own scent, but he also smells like you.”

It felt good to hear those small compliments. Shawn had spouted little affirmations like that all evening, whether he had realized it or not. But she noticed.

She finally entered and crossed the room. She stroked Sebastian’s head and said, “I’m sorry I left you alone for as long as I did.”

“I didn’t mind,” he smiled, genuinely.

Shawn helped her carefully transition a sleeping Sebastian from his chest to her arms. After a few snuggles and kisses, she laid Sebastian in his crib. He hadn’t stirred once. They stood side by side, watching over him for a few moments.

“He’s a good sleeper,” she said quietly. “He’ll be out for about five, six hours before he wakes up hungry again. I’ll give him another bottle, but then he’ll go back to sleep.”

“It’s nice of your aunt and uncle to have a room for you and Bash.”

“This was my room when I lived here. My aunt helped me redecorate after I told her I was pregnant. She said we’d always have a home here if we ever needed it.” She smiled fondly with the memory.

“When did you live here?” Shawn asked. “And why? If you don’t mind my asking. The way you introduced Elisa, Jack, and Mason had me wondering... What happened to your parents?”

“I lost my parents when I was fourteen, the summer before high school started.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Charlotte.” He gently stroked her back.

“Elisa, Jack, and Mason took me in what feels like a lifetime ago now.”

“Are you an only child?”

“I have an older brother, Jonah...

“I don’t talk with him very often and I see him even less.”

Shawn could tell there was a story there, but it was one that could wait for another time. “Come on,” he said. He took her hand and started to pull her from the room. “Let’s go have another drink and see if there are any leftovers.”

// * // * //

Shawn and Charlotte were sitting on the edge of the pool, close enough for their thighs to touch and their arms to brush, their feet dangling in the water.

Mason, Doug, Rob, and Josh were at the other side of the pool on floaties. They looked like large children, which Charlotte supposed they were. Immaturity aside, her cousins were her best friends. She had always gotten along better with the boys than the girls.

While Valerie was off with Abigail and Morgan, doing very girlie things, Charlotte was wreaking havoc on the neighborhood with Josh, Doug, and Rob, with Mason on their tails.

Beth and Lyle had gone home to relieve their babysitter. Zak and Tori had shown up after all, much to everyone’s surprise, but they only stayed for a couple of drinks and a quick bite before they were off again, taking Annie with them.

Elisa and Jack, and Will and Diana had moved inside to play cribbage.

Charlotte was quiet enough for long enough that Shawn bumped his shoulder against hers to pull her from her thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

“Have I done anything to make you uncomfortable in any way tonight? Tangibly?” She met his eyes. He was remarkably close.

“What? Of course not, why would you ask that?”

She dropped her eyes and watched the back patio lights ripple across the water. “I’m a very... instinctual person. I crave physical touch. I love to touch; I love to be touched. I’m affectionate just to be affectionate. It’s intrinsic to who I am.” She looked at him again. “It’s how I show someone I care about them. Elisa always says I’m a Cancer who was mistakenly born under the sign of Aquarius,” she smiled softly. “I’m not often bothered with those I know and care about in my personal space, and sometimes I forget other people don’t always feel the same way. I want to make sure I haven’t crossed any lines.

“Well, aside from that one kiss earlier.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m not,” he smiled. “I kissed you back, didn’t I?”

“You did,” she blushed. “And it was a very nice kiss, in case you were wondering,” she smirked. “I can only imagine how you kiss when there’s love behind it... Not that I’m imagining kissing you again... Okay, you need to stop me from saying anything more.”

“Do I have to kiss you again?” he teased.

“Shut up,” she giggled.

He laughed.

Without warning, she pushed him into the pool. He broke the surface and swam back to her, still laughing. He pulled himself up and onto the ledge, anchoring himself by the underside of his arms. Everything below his shoulders was still in the water.

She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his wet hair, pushing it out of his eyes and off his forehead. “I know you’re not looking for a relationship, after what you’ve recently been through, and I don’t want you to worry that I am, because I’m not. I mean, I’m open to it if the right person comes along, but I’m not actively looking. I like to think we’re friends now, and everyone can use another friend, right? And who’s to say it can’t be the kind of friend they don’t have to have strict boundaries with?”

The little lines between his eyes were adorable, but they also said he didn’t know exactly where she was going with this.

She groaned. “That didn’t come out the way I meant it to. I’m usually better at organizing my thoughts.”

“You were doing fine a moment ago.” He dropped a little kiss on her knee. “Try again. Uncomplicate it. I promise it will be okay.”

“If you ever want or need to be hugged or kissed, I’m here,” she said simply. “I want you to feel comfortable coming to me if all you need is a little affection. No games, no strings.”

“So, are we talking...friends with benefits?” he smirked.

Surprisingly, she hadn’t been thinking that, but now she was. Damn him. She tried to push him into the water again but he pulled her in instead. She surfaced and splashed him. “You suck!”

He was laughing harder than he had all day and she couldn’t help but laugh as well. Their gaiety was infectious. Josh flipped Doug, Doug pulled Rob in by his ankle, and Mason laughed so hard he tipped himself over.

Charlotte and Shawn dragged themselves out of the water before they drowned.

// * // * //

Mason took Shawn upstairs to the room he also still had at his parents’ house. “We’re close enough to the same size. I have dry shorts you can borrow.”

He tossed a pair of blue basketball shorts at Shawn, as well as a new package of Calvin Klein’s. “You can have a pair of those, too. Mom always tucks a pack of new underwear in my top drawer. As embarrassing as it may be, - nineteen and my mom still buys me underwear, - I kind of appreciate it,” he laughed.

“I kind of appreciate it right now, too,” Shawn chuckled. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem... We’re going to start a poker game. You in?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cool. Washroom is just outside the door, to the right. Fresh towels are in the linen closet. I’ll meet you downstairs with a whiskey tonic.”

// * // * //

Shawn knocked quietly on Charlotte’s bedroom door. She eased it open a moment later.

She had changed into a pair of small, black, boy shorts and a pink, body-hugging, lace-trimmed camisole. You would never know she had just had a baby six months earlier. His eyes raked over her form and she did nothing to stop him. She had also noticed him appreciating her figure in her bikini when she had met the boys at the pool. She liked the way he looked at her.

Her hair was long and loose, wavy, and still a little bit wet.

When his eyes finally settled on hers again, she said, “Come on in.”

He threw himself onto his back on Charlotte’s bed, folded his hands on his stomach, and sighed.

She crawled onto the mattress and sat cross-legged beside him. “What’s up?”

“I really like your family.”

They spoke softly so as not to wake Sebastian.

“Me too,” she smiled.

“The more I get to know them, the more I like them, and the more I like them, the worse I feel about lying to them.”

She twirled locks of his damp hair around her fingers.

“I want them to know my name is Shawn and not Peter. I want them to know who I really am. I want them to know that even though Bash is my new best friend, he’s not actually my son. I want them to know that even though we only met six hours ago, his mom is amazing and that they should be so proud of her.”

Charlotte leaned over and kissed his forehead.

“I want them to know that welcoming me into their home tonight has been exactly what I needed to help pull me out of a bad place.”

“If you want to tell them, we can tell them. The sooner they’re told the truth, the easier it will be.”

“I don’t want the night to end quite yet.”

“You’re afraid it will?”

“I don’t know.”

“They already think you’re wonderful. I really don’t think that’s going to change. They’ll understand.”

// * // * //

Part 5

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fiction

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winters-blue-children · 4 years

Text

Games and Theory (A 10k Evan Buckley disaster fic featuring jealous Eddie, phone sex, a fake relationship, and Albert being a genius)

Eddie's not looking for serious. He just wants casual, easy, and uncomplicated.

Buck has been in love with his best friend for two years. Does he take his sister's advice and confess his feelings? Nah, Evan Buckley always has to do things the hard way.

At some point, Buck and Albert became pretty good friends. Maybe it’s the shared older siblings mackin’ on each other, or the having horrible parents thing, but it turns out they get along really well. A little too well, as Chimney often likes to complain about. He calls it a Buckley-Han recipe for disaster.

Wanna meet up for pool later tonight?

Can’t. It’s movie night with Eddie and Chris.

The blinking ellipses begin immediately after his last text is sent. Buck rolls his eyes in anticipation. He knows exactly what Albert is going to say.

Have fun with your looover.

Fuck off. He’s not my lover.

But you want him to be ;-)

Buck scowls at his phone before turning the screen off. His loud, frustrated groan echoes throughout his empty apartment. Damn high ceilings. While it’s nice to have someone to complain about being completely head over heels for his best friend, it also sucks to be reminded constantly that his love life is hopeless and helpless and, in Chim’s words… embarrassingly tragic.

“Movie night,” Buck mutters to himself, mentally preparing for an evening of kid-friendly movies, lots of popcorn, and being in painfully close proximity to the man he’s desperately in love with. “Completely platonic movie night.”

…

In between their last film and Chris’s bedtime, which the kid managed to convince his dad to push back—“But it’s not a school night, Dad!” And like most people who have met Christopher Diaz, Eddie has trouble saying no to his kid too—Buck finds himself seated on the living room floor, a jumbo Lego set spilled all around him. He spends the next thirty minutes sticking pieces together with his best friend’s son.

“What is that?” Chris asks, tilting his head in confusion at the multi-colored lump in Buck’s hands. It’s all sharp angles and weird shapes.

“I’m not sure, bud. I made it to match yours.”

Chris laughs loudly, head thrown back as he giggles. And Buck laughs too, open and free and so genuinely happy.

Several feet away from them, Eddie watches quietly, a soft smile on his face.

…

Eddie’s not much of a talkative guy, at least not compared to Buck. When they’re together though, Buck brings him out of his shell, and Eddie makes sure to keep Buck grounded. Chim and Hen joke that they ‘complete’ each other. Whatever that means.

The point is that Eddie has a shy side. And considering he’s about twelve years out of the dating game, he needs his best friend to help him out.

“I thought you said you needed a wingman?”

Eddie stubbornly looks up and glares at Buck. He’s nursing his third beer, which he’d been staring at with what Buck had described as ‘crazy eyes’. And he’s adamantly refused to look anywhere around the bar that they’re currently in.

Buck leans closer over their small table. “We’ve been here for an hour and you haven’t even made eye contact with anyone. What are you doing?”

“Look, I haven’t done this in a very long time, okay?!” Eddie hissed. “I was with Shannon for two years before I enlisted. Two tours later, and add a kid to the picture, I’m a little out of practice!”

Buck’s face softens and he seems to take pity on him.

“Well, if you would get out of your own head and take a look around, you’d notice that more than a few lovely ladies have been eying you up all night.” Buck pauses and adds, “A few guys, too. If you’re into that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls a face like Buck just told a joke. He misses the way Buck looks slightly dejected, just for a second, before his grin slides back into place.

“So what are you looking for then? Blonde? Brunette? Are you into any weird stuff ‘cause the chick with the sleeve tats over there looks like she likes to play with toys.”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head, finally looking around the room for the first time. “I want something… uncomplicated.”

“Uncomplicated like a quickie in the bathroom? I’ve been there, and would not recommend. Your back will be killing you the next day.”

“Just… something easy, no strings attached, never have to call them again…”

“A one-night stand?” Buck frowns and tilts his head curiously. “Sounds like my old kind of thing. I didn’t think it was yours.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s too hard to try for anything serious. I have Christopher to think about, and he needs one hundred percent of my attention. And I definitely can’t be bringing home random girls, hoping one of them is going to be Chris’s new mom.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Most would run away once they find out I’m a widowed veteran-father anyway. Talk about a flight risk.”

“Don’t be so negative about yourself,” Buck says, his voice low. “You’re a great guy, and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Eddie pauses at the sincerity in Buck’s voice. It’s sweet. And nice. But he shakes his head and the moment ends. “Alright, help me out here. I really don’t want to go home tonight to just my left hand for company. Who do you think I’ve got a chance with?”

Buck grins, a little mirthless. “The girl in the red top, drinking a Long Island at the bar.” He raises an eyebrow and nods in her direction. “She’s with a group of friends, but she’s not been chatty. She keeps looking around the room like she’s looking for someone.”

Eddie turns and to his surprise, he makes eye contact. She’s attractive, probably mid to late twenties, with brown hair and blue eyes. Three solid seconds pass before she grins flirtatiously, bats her eyes, and looks away.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Buck murmurs.

Eddie finishes off his beer. The bitter taste lingers and settles in his mouth, giving him an odd sense of confidence as he stands. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Buck says softly.

Eddie slides against the bar next to the girl in the red top. He grins, friendly but not over the top. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she answers with a bright smile.

Eddie waves over the bartender. “Hi, can I get an IPA and another of what she’s having? Oh, and one more beer for my friend—” He turns his head, about to point to Buck when his eyes land on their empty table. Buck’s jacket is gone too.

He must have left.

“Um, nevermind about that last one. Thanks.”

…

Evan Buckley has been in love with his best friend for over two years. It’s painful, that they can be so close and yet he sometimes feels a million miles away. “I can’t get him out of my head, Mads. I think about him all the time and it’s so fucking distracting.”

“Dude, I work with you guys,” Chimney says slowly. “In a very dangerous line of work.”

Buck scowls as Maddie slaps her boyfriend’s arm. “I came over here to talk to my sister. Do you really have to be a part of the conversation?”

“I was here first!”

“Hm, yeah sorry,” Buck frowns and shakes his head. “I think I’ve got about twenty-six years on you in that department.”

“Stop fighting, children, please!”

Buck continues to mope on the couch while Chim shakes his head and helps himself to snacks on the coffee table. The crunch of chips between his teeth clashes harshly with the constant thump of Buck’s knee bouncing against the underside of the table.

“Look, Evan,” Maddie says carefully. “I think you really need to tell Eddie how you feel.”

“Why? What’s the point?” Buck demands. “So that he can reject me nicely? Let me down easy, maybe? Best case scenario, he says that nothing’s ever going to change between us and then he acts all weird and awkward because he knows that his best friend—who is a guy—is fucking in love with him!”

Maddie reaches over and grabs her brother’s hand to hold. Even Chim’s eyes are downcast, looking like he feels a bit bad for him.

“You have to tell him, so that you can start to get over him,” Maddie says softly. “So that you can move on.”

“Maddie’s right,” Chim chimes in. “Rejection is the first step. If Tatiana hadn’t rejected me, I’d probably still be in that awful facade of a relationship. I never would have found the most wonderful and amazing person that I was meant to be with.”

Maddie grins softly at him. She leans over and they share a sweet kiss.

“Ugh,” Buck pulls a face and looks away. “Gross. That’s it, I can’t take any more of this. I’m out of here.”

“Evan, you don’t have to go!” Maddie says.

At the same time that Chim says, “See ya tomorrow, Buck.” He shrugs when they both give him a look. “What? I spend all day with the guy, I gotta see him at home, too?”

“Love you too, Chim,” Buck says sarcastically.

“He’s family,” Maddie says sternly.

“Hey, speaking of, where’s Albert?” Buck asks.

“Probably hooking up with rando hot girl number thirty.”

“Huh.” Buck pulls out his phone and hums. He says his goodbyes and leaves his sister and Chimney to do… whatever old, happy couples do on a Wednesday night.

Where you at?

A minute later, Albert responds. Some bar on West 23rd St. Wanna join?

Not feeling up to it. Wanna come over and hang instead?

Sure. Albert says. And then another text. I’ll be over in an hour.

…

It’s the middle of their shift and things are slow, which is never something to complain about. Eddie regales a tale about the latest girl he hooked up with. There have been a few girls since that night at the bar, and Eddie never shies away from telling Buck. Nothing too lewd. Just the highlights.

Buck nods and hums in response. His attention, however, is glued to his phone, where his thumbs rapidly fly across the screen as he texts. He plasters a lopsided grin on his face for show.

“I’m sorry, is my story about my foray back into the dating scene for the first time in over a decade too boring for you?”

Buck’s eyes snap up and he grins apologetically. He quickly slips his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry! I was listening, I swear!”

Eddie doesn’t buy it for one second.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Buck says quickly. See, he was listening. “You sealed the deal, right?”

Eddie sighs. “Yeah. It was alright. Not exactly a night of passion.”

“Better luck next time. Plenty more one-night fish in the sea, am I right?”

Eddie frowns, figuring Buck is right. He puts his mediocre night out of his mind. Buck looks like he’s itching to check his phone again. And then Eddie suddenly wonders what’s got his friend so distracted lately. “Hey, what was that just now? You’ve been glued to your phone the whole day. What is going on with you?”

Buck blushes and actually looks embarrassed, a rare sight. “I uh—I met someone,” he says bashfully.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, surprised. “Wow, um, congrats, dude. You haven’t mentioned getting back out there or anything.”

“Yeah, well. I figured it was time. It’s been a year since Ali…”

Eddie frowns and tries to be happy for him. But the only thing he can think is, “Is it serious?”

Buck grins softly. “It might be. Too early to tell, you know? But I think I want it to be.”

Eddie nods. An uncomfortable feeling rolls around in the pit of his stomach. He must have eaten something at lunch that doesn’t agree with him. He brushes it aside. “What’s her name?”

Buck hesitates. “His name is… Tom.”

Whatever Eddie ate for lunch might be threatening to come back up again.

…

“How could he not tell me? I mean, how could he not tell me?! We’re best friends, this is the type of thing that you tell your best friend!” Eddie gestures wildly with his arms as he speaks.

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” Hen takes a drink of her cocktail and narrowly avoids being hit accidentally by Eddie’s flailing hands. “It’s not like he outright lied to you.”

“Not telling me that he’s into guys isn’t lying to me?”

“He’s dated one girl in the two plus years that you’ve known him. So he omitted one small fact about himself, so what? There are people who like both, you know.”

Eddie scoffs, incredulous. “Yeah, but Buck?!”

Hen gives him a pointed look and Eddie sighs. “I just… I don’t get why didn’t he tell me sooner.” He says softly.

“Please. You are not about to ask a lesbian why Buck didn’t out himself to you sooner. And you are definitely not having an issue with the fact itself, right?”

“Of course not,” Eddie says firmly. He might have grown up in a homophobic town in Texas, but that was never him. He stood up for the kids who got bullied growing up. He would never hate Buck for being gay, bi, pan, or whatever he labels himself. He would never hate anyone for that.

He just can’t seem to wrap his head around it. Why didn’t Buck tell him sooner? Why does it feel like such a painful and devastating betrayal, knowing that Buck met someone and they ‘might’ be getting serious?

“Wait,” Eddie freezes. “Hang on. Why aren’t you more surprised by this?”

Hen chuckles. “We have… a type of radar. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” She finishes her drink and laughs to herself. “From the second I laid eyes on that boy, I could tell he was a womanizer and a playboy. But let me tell you, that bitch also looks like he is two clicks away from calling the first man to pull his hair Daddy.” She cackles loudly, unaware that Eddie is struggling not to choke on the air in his lungs.

…

Albert is really good at chess.

Apparently, he won some sort of big deal tournament in South Korea. He brushes it off like no big deal whenever Chimney brings it up.

“It’s about being able to predict your opponent's move before they’ve even thought of it. You need to be three steps ahead, always. And flexible enough to adjust your strategy to the evolving game.”

Buck frowns. “That sounds really complicated. And hard.”

“I can teach you. Have you ever heard of game theory?”

“Dude, I told you I wasn’t the best in school,” Buck groans.

“Game theory is recognized as an important tool in many fields. It’s won Nobel prizes,” Albert says seriously.

Buck’s head spins from the nerd talk. “The only thing I care about, is will this even work?”

“Trust me,” Albert smiles, young and soft and genuine. “With my help, it will work.”

…

“Hi, Buck!”

Buck grins at Christopher’s excitement and quickly shoves two bags of take-out into Eddie’s hands so that he can kneel down and give Chris a hug. “Hi, buddy, I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Buck!”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been over in a while. I’ve been busy.” His brow furrows, regretful, and he sneaks a quick glance at Eddie, who wears an unreadable expression while he tries to balance the bags Buck had pushed into his arms.

“That’s okay, you’re here now.” And with that, Chris takes Buck by the hand and leads him over to the couch.

Clearly, it’s now Eddie’s responsibility to handle the food.

After dinner, Buck helps Eddie with the dishes, while Chris is engrossed by a movie in the living room.

“So I was thinking maybe you could spend the night?” Eddie says, as he rinses a dirty dish under the tap. “We can do breakfast tomorrow morning at the diner on Stratton, the one that Chris likes. And I was going to take him to the park afterwards, you know he loves having you there.”

Buck is silent for a moment, just long enough that Eddie stops and looks up from what he’s doing.

“I um… I actually have plans later tonight.”

“Oh,” Eddie says dumbly. Out the corner of his eye, the clock on the oven blinks 8:11 PM. “What kind of plans?” He asks casually.

Buck blushes and drops his gaze. “Tom’s coming over.” A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I don’t think you want any details beyond that.”

Eddie purses his lips and returns his attention to the dishes. He doesn’t want to think about Buck and Tom, the latter is just a faceless shadow in his mind. But one with broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw.

Nope, he does not need any more details.

“Maybe I could still join you guys at the park though?”

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters, as he scrubs a plate with far more force than necessary. “I’m sure Chris would love that.”

…

Eddie isn’t as great at hiding his emotions as he would like to believe. Maybe once upon a time he got away with it, but over the past two years, the 118 has become family to him. And families pry. They get into each other’s business, with good intentions, of course.

“Rough night?”

Eddie looks up and sees his Captain’s concerned face watching him. “Uh, sort of, Cap. I haven’t been sleeping well,” he admits. “Kind of have a lot on my mind right now. But I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s not affecting my work.”

Bobby takes a seat in the chair next to him. “You’ve been pretty quiet lately. Is everything alright at home?”

“Yeah, everything’s great,” Eddie says carefully. “Christopher is doing well and he’s loving his classes at school. Everything’s great, Cap.”

The words taste like ash and sound fake to his own ears.

“Listen, it’s my job to know when something is wrong with my team,” Bobby says seriously. “And you’ve been off for weeks now. Is there… is there something going on between you and Buck that I should know about?”

“No! No, of course not!” Eddie says, a little too quickly. “I mean… Okay, honestly, Buck hasn’t been around much lately—” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Since he’s been seeing someone and… Chris has been asking why he hasn’t been around as much, and I know that he misses him.” He sighs and runs his hands through his short hair. “I just don’t know what to do about it.”

Bobby gives him a strange look, like maybe he’s being a bit slow. “Have you tried… talking to Buck about this? I’m sure Buck is more than happy to make time for you guys. You’re family to him.”

Eddie blinks, oblivious. “No. Why would I?”

“Because it might solve all your problems.”

Eddie snorts. That doesn’t quite compute.

Bobby pats him on the shoulder and gives him a sad, knowing glance. He wonders how long it’s going to take for Eddie to admit to himself that it’s not just Chris who misses Buck.

…

“Eddie, h-hey, what’s up?”

Eddie grins. Buck’s voice is breathy like he’s just gone on a run, or been going hard at the gym. It’s a sound that Eddie associates with a bad call that ends well because they saved the day. Out of breath and gasping, but still with a grin plastered across his face so bright it could light up a room.

“What’s going on?” Comes Buck’s concerned voice over the line when Eddie doesn’t answer. “Is everything okay? Is Christopher alright?”

Eddie closes his eyes and tries to get himself out of his own head. He’s been having trouble thinking straight lately. “Yeah. Yeah man, everything’s fine. Just wondering what you’re up to tonight? Chris is having some friends over and I could use another pair of eyes on them. You know I hate being outnumbered,” he chuckles.

“Oh, I’m sorry I can’t,” Buck says, and then there’s a rush of air into the phone before he continues, “I uh… I think I’m staying in tonight.”

Eddie frowns. Something doesn’t sound quite right. He narrows his eyes and presses the phone closer to his ear. There’s rustling in the background, like something is going on over Buck’s end. “Come on, dude,” he presses. “We haven’t hung out outside of work in like two weeks.”

“Yeah, I know,” Buck drawls. “You’re hopeless without me.”

Eddie is about to say something snarky in return when he hears a muffled sound in the background, right before Buck grunts softly into his ear.

His hand tightens on his phone. “Buck?”

“W-what?” Buck sounds distracted, and then the clear sound of a backboard squeaking rhythmically tells Eddie all he needs to know. “Eddie, I gotta go,” he says breathlessly. His voice is cut off by commotion on his end of the line.

Eddie winces when he hears the clear clatter of Buck’s phone dropping to the ground.

“Shit, I dropped my phone!”

Muffled noises and heavy moans drift over the line. Warmth floods his body and Eddie feels his face flush red. It’s suddenly very hard to breathe. He should hang up. He should pretend this call never happened. He really, really should not stay on the line listening to his best friend having sex with another man.

“Oh, fuck, harder—”

Eddie closes his eyes. Buck’s face in high definition lights up in his mind, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed, and maybe he bites down on his bottom lip as he gets fucked—

What the hell is he doing? Thinking about Buck’s red lips and how it’s so adorable that his birthmark is the same shade as that luscious mouth—

Eddie considers hanging up yet again.

But the grunts and moans and sounds of pleasure are getting louder. And he’s suddenly so fucking hard.

“Fuck! Come on, give me more, right there—”

His hand is reaching down his pants and wrapping around his hard cock before Eddie even realizes it. He jerks himself roughly as he listens to the sound of Buck’s voice.

He’s never come so fast in his life.

…

“Hey Chim, how’s it going with Albert?” Eddie asks. “You guys getting along any better?”

Chimney frowns and glances over at the bar where Albert, Buck, and Hen are sharing a laugh over drinks.

“They are getting along wonderfully,” Maddie answers for him.

“Well, he’s family,” Chim manages, shaking his head.

Eddie chuckles and his eyes can’t help but land on Buck and stay there.

Of course, they never mentioned the call, instead both chose to act like the whole thing never happened. Maybe Buck didn’t realize that it was blatantly obvious what he was doing when Eddie called, and maybe he didn’t realize that Eddie stayed on the line, blowing a load over him, like a goddamn creep.

The next day, he just smiled and clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder like nothing was wrong. Nevermind that Eddie’s whole world was crashing around him because he got himself off to his best friend being fucked by another guy. And the orgasm he had over Buck’s voice was more intense than any he’d had with the random women he’d slept with over the past month.

He can’t even remember their names.

So lost in thought, he doesn’t realize that Maddie and Chim are giving each other smirks and looks while he’s distracted.

“What’s going on with you, Mr. Mopey?” Chimney asks.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, confused.

“Come on, you’ve been acting off for weeks,” Chim says while Maddie tries to hide a laugh. “Everyone’s noticed. Just admit it.”

“Admit what?” Eddie genuinely has no idea what he’s talking about.

“You can’t possibly be that thick,” Chim says slowly.

Maddie pats him on the shoulder. “Babe, don’t push it.”

“Oh, come on! Even Albert won’t stop talking about it—”

Eddie never finds out what it is because they’re interrupted by the presence of none other than the man who is the star of his wet dreams.

“What’s up, guys?” Buck’s grin is a mile wide and he’s just loose enough from a few drinks that he’s extra handsy. And he’s pretty handsy with Eddie on a regular day.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat as his skin hyper focuses on Buck’s arm around his shoulders. He quickly takes another drink of his beer so that he doesn’t have to answer.

And then he spends the rest of the night hoping and praying that his jeans are tight enough to hide the obvious erection in his pants.

…

Eddie thinks it can’t possibly get any worse. He’s wrong.

Weeks of blue balls and pining leave him in a near constant bad mood. Even Chris has noticed that he’s been snappier than usual—which of course, makes him feel like an asshole.

Buck hasn’t mentioned anything, though everyone else seems to be avoiding him like the plague.

And then during one of their shifts, twenty minutes after Eddie texts Buck to confirm his pizza topping of choice for lunch, he receives a photo to their text message chain. He thinks he’s hallucinating when the little icon image pops up on his screen.

But then he opens the image and his eyes bulge wide out of their sockets.

Buck is shirtless. It’s not like Eddie hasn’t seen the guy naked before. After all, they’ve spent plenty of time together in the showers and locker room at the firehouse. It’s the look on his face that gets him. The angle is taken from above. It’s meant to be sexual. Buck is biting his lip, head tilted back, a look of absolute sin gracing his handsome features. Eddie has never thought of his friend as pretty before, but god damn, Buck is pretty.

And as Eddie’s eyes trail down Buck’s chest, down his chiseled abs, they travel over the gorgeous V of his hip bones, to just past the base of his shaft, the rest cut off by his boxer briefs pulled down by the hook of his thumb.

The picture was clearly meant for something else.

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck to do. He’s torn between confronting Buck about this egregious error that he made and running into the bathroom to jerk off.

In hindsight, the latter would have been better. After all, with post-nut clarity, he never would have done what he actually did, which is yell at Buck, in front of the whole firehouse.

“What the actual fuck?!”

Buck gapes at the lewd image on his phone, when shoved in his face. “I—I am so sorry, Eddie!” He stutters, red with embarrassment. “I did not mean to send that to you! I—I didn’t check the chain, and I had forgotten that you texted me your order—”

“You think I want to be getting shit like this on my phone?” Eddie rages. “Be more fucking careful next time you send shit like this to your boyfriend, or whoever the hell he is!”

Buck looks hurt. “Sorry, man,” he says softly. “It won’t happen again.”

Head bowed, Buck walks away with his tail tucked between his legs, leaving Eddie feeling like the biggest asshole on the face of this earth.

It doesn’t help that their little squabble had gained an audience.

Eddies groans and clenches his fists by his sides. He fights the urge to smash his phone to pieces.

He never does delete that photo.

…

Eddie’s not sure how they got to this point. Their friends pity them and Bobby has personally demanded that they resolve their differences. Fast. Or they won’t be covering the same shifts anymore. And now Buck is mad and wanting answers.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you, Buck.”

“You haven’t looked at me in days. If this is still about the pic that I accidentally sent you—”

“No!” Eddie says loudly. “No, it’s not about that. I am definitely way past that.”

Buck pauses and stares at him in disbelief. “Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie swallows thickly. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.”

“You’ve been acting like a real dick lately,” Buck says blatantly. “If you have a problem with me, you should just say it.”

Eddie bites his tongue. “Nope. No problem at all.”

Buck grits his teeth and storms away. And that’s that.

…

Not too long later, Eddie reaches his breaking point.

“Alright, fine! Maybe I am pissed at you!” Eddie gives in to the weeks of loneliness and sexual frustration and yells at his friend. “I’m pissed that you haven’t been around! And when you are, you’re distracted and distant and all you talk about is this Tom fella—”

“My boyfriend?”

“Whatever!” Eddie says. “Fuck!”

He knows he’s being a Grade A asshole, but he can’t help himself. Buck drives him crazy and he has no idea how to stop it.

A long moment passes before Buck speaks, “Well, not to get your hopes up or anything,” he says softly. “But this Tom thing might not last much longer.”

Eddie’s curiosity is piqued. Despite knowing better, he asks, “What’s going on?”

Buck shrugs uncomfortably. “I think we just want different things. Probably not going to work out in the long run.”

“And… what do you want?”

Buck looks at him and for a second Eddie gets lost in the blue of his eyes. “I want something real, you know? And I thought that’s what he wanted too, but… he wants to keep it open. Keep seeing other people.” He sighs heavily, sounding sad and defeated. “Which I was fine with for a while, but… I kind of thought he’d change his mind eventually.”

Buck shakes his head. “Sorry, man. You don’t want to hear about this—”

“Tom’s a fucking asshole,” Eddie spits.

Buck blinks in surprise. “W-what?” He chuckles softly.

“You heard me. He’s a fucking asshole. I’ll kick his ass if I ever meet him.”

Buck stares at him for a long moment. And then his face breaks into a grin. “Thanks, Eddie. You’re a good friend.”

Eddie nods. For the first time in a long time, he does feel like a good friend. Because he would absolutely kick anyone’s ass who hurt Buck.

…

Things between them get better after that.

And one evening, after the end of a long shift, Eddie and Buck get good and truly hammered.

It’s been a long time since Eddie had drank that much. But they don’t have to work the next day, Chris is sleeping over at Abuela’s, and him and Buck are friends again. So he lets loose and just goes along with whatever Buck wants. And Buck leans very much into his personal space in his drunk and disorderly state.

Eddie doesn’t mind one bit. Like an idiot, he doesn’t push him away.

He misses the laughs and doesn’t catch the mild looks of judgment and concern from Hen and Chim, because he’s too drunk to care. And when Albert keeps pushing tequila shots their way, he giggles and throws them back with Buck because it finally feels like they’re them again. And he’s really missed this.

…

The pillow that smacks him in the face wakes him up fast. With a startled gasp, Eddie blinks the sleep and haze out of his eyes. The first thing he registers is his throbbing headache. “What the hell—” The second is the pillow that hits him again before he can do anything more than blink dumbly in surprise. And then he’s pissed. “What the fuck, Buck?!”

“Stop that!” Eddie grabs the pillow before the other man can hit him again. “This is not exactly the morning after I was hoping for!”

“What exactly were you hoping for?! What the hell, Eddie?! We had sex last night! TOGETHER!” Buck’s voice gets higher until he’s nearly screeching, which is not great for either of their hangovers. He seems to suddenly realize he’s naked because he pulls the covers up tighter around himself as if it might preserve his chastity. A bit late for that, Eddie thinks.

“You… asshole! What the hell?!”

Eddie rubs the residual fog out of his eyes and stares at him. “You told Chim last night that you would give your left nut to suck my dick, so what the hell are you complaining about?” He smirks and nods at the shocked expression on Buck’s face. “Yeah, apparently, you get reeeal chatty when you’ve had tequila.”

“Chim said what?” Buck whispers softly, looking mildly shell-shocked and like he really wants to bury himself in the earth and never come out again.

“Oh, and by the way, I am way hotter than that guy you were flirting with at the bar,” Eddie growls, indignant and affronted. “If you want to know regret, know that you could have woken up next to that!”

“He—he was perfectly fine looking,” Buck stutters.

At the same time that Eddie hisses, “Man-bun.”

“And more importantly,” Buck continues harshly. “Since when do you sleep with guys?”

“Since last night, apparently,” Eddie says steely, not nearly as mortified and shocked as he should be. He adds, “And it was really great. Morning after could use some work though.”

Buck swallows. “I never thought… I never thought you were interested.”

“Neither did I,” Eddie lies. He takes a breath, counts to three in his head, and on a whim and a prayer, he reaches for Buck and crashes their lips together with such force that they nearly topple over.

They’re all awkward limbs and gross tequila morning breath—and yet, they seem to fit together perfectly in each other’s arms. They fall back onto Buck’s sheets. A mess of gangly limbs, dried bodily fluids, and lips desperate to feel more.

Perfect.

…

If anyone were to ask what this thing is between him and Buck, Eddie would say that it’s casual. That’s the word he likes to use when he thinks of them. They’re sleeping together and it’s good and hot and mindblowing sex. But it’s also easy. Because Buck is uncomplicated, and he’s there again when Chris wants him. He loves Christopher, Eddie has no doubt about that. And most importantly, Eddie can get laid whenever he wants.

“Hey, so I was thinking about asking Carla to stay late this Friday to watch Chris,” Buck brings up to him one night. “Maybe you and I can go out to dinner after our shift. We could go some place nice. That new restaurant on Main St. maybe.”

Eddie follows his first instinct which is to laugh, because it sounds like Buck just suggested that they go out on a date. The look on Buck’s face says that he made a mistake.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Eddie asks after seeing the dejected look on Buck’s face.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Buck’s voice is low and strange.

“Because that… that sounds like a date,” Eddie says incredulously. “That’s not what you and I do. We don’t go to nice restaurants, we’re not—”

“A couple?” Buck cuts him off roughly. His expression has grown hard. “So what exactly are we?”

It’s a rare moment when Eddie is at a loss for words, but right now they seem to be stuck in his throat and he has no idea what to say.

“What exactly is this to you, Eddie?” Buck asks slowly.

“We’re just… good friends helping each other out,” he manages.

“Friends?” Buck demands, eyes narrowed and furious. “I’ve sucked your cock, I think we’re a little beyond friends, Eddie.”

“Jesus, Buck! Keep your voice down!” Eddie hisses, even though Chris’s room is on the other end of the house and he’s probably fast asleep at this hour.

But now Buck just looks defeated and hurt, and it’s the last thing that Eddie wanted.

“I thought this meant more to you,” Buck says quietly. “I guess I was wrong.”

“Look, Buck,” Eddie starts. “You know I love you, man. Just… just not like that. I can’t do that.”

Buck scoffs and looks away, which makes Eddie feel worse.

“I told you, a long time ago, that I’m not looking for anything serious, with anyone. It’s… it’s not you, Buck. It’s just that, I have a son to think about.” It makes sense in his head. It’s not like he’s sleeping with anyone else. He just needs to make Buck see.

“Okay.”

Eddie blinks. Okay? “Yeah?”

Buck nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. He slowly turns away, looking lost for a moment, before turning back, eyes glazed and hurt and unseeing. “I’m gonna go.” He says, pointing a thumb behind him. He starts gathering his things to leave and Eddie’s heart sinks into his gut. It hurts like there’s a knife buried there, twisting.

“Wait, no,” Eddie says desperately. “Buck, don’t leave—” He reaches for him but Buck snatches his arm away before Eddie can make contact. Somehow that stings more than when Shannon asked for a divorse.

Buck is adamant about avoiding eye contact, or any type of contact at all.

He’s hurt. And Eddie hates that this time, he was the one to do it.

“I’ll see you later, man,” Buck mutters, and then he’s gone.

Eddie stands, alone in his kitchen, feeling more lost than ever before.

…

Hen, bless her soul, is the first to pull him aside and demand to know how he managed to fuck up such a sure, good thing.

“What kind of moron are you?” She asks after she listens to his side of the story.

“W-what?” Eddie sputters helplessly. “This isn’t my fault.”

“You are both miserable,” she says bluntly. “Why?!”

Eddie sighs heavily and agrees. “Buck looked like he was about to dry heave when I stepped into the station today,” he says sadly.

“You are dumber than a bag of rocks. Eddie Diaz, I’m going to say this once and only once. You. Love. Him.” She says, enunciating each word.

“Of course, I love him,” Eddie responds. “He’s my closest friend. He’s Buck. I trust him with everything—”

“No, you dumbass. I mean, you love him. He’s not just some rando hookup you picked up for a night. He’s not just a friend, he’s Buck, the guy who would rather die than see anything bad happen to you or your son. He’s the guy who loves your kid like his own. And, speaking as a mother, that is not something to be said lightly.”

“I know Buck loves Chris,” Eddie says softly. “And I never asked him to, he just…” His voice trails off, as the realization slowly dawns on him.

Hen raises a brow. “Let me ask you a question,” she says slowly. “Why did you stop looking for girls to sleep with? You stopped long before you and Buck started this thing between you two. So why? Why did you stop?”

“I…” Fuck. Eddie remembers the longing that he felt when Buck was with someone else. He remembers how much it hurt. Like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. “Anyone else just… wasn’t what I wanted,” he realizes.

“So what are you waiting for now, dummy?”

“I’m scared,” Eddie admits. “I thought that it would be too difficult or too complicated, or whatever dumb shit I was thinking at the time. I thought it wasn’t worth the risk. To me and to my son.”

“And is it?” Hen asks softly.

Eddie bites his lip. “If this goes sideways, I don’t know what it’ll do to Christopher. That kid has lost so much already. And he loves Buck to death, if this doesn’t work out—”

“Kids are a lot tougher than we like to give them credit for. I’m saying this from one parent to another. You can’t let that hold you back. You can’t let it stop you from going after what you really want. Trust me, Chris will understand. He probably already knows you’re head over heads for his Buck.”

Eddie laughs and bows his head. “Yeah, probably. I never did hide it very well, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” Hen agrees.

“I think I was wrong,” Eddie finally whispers.

Hen’s fingers flex around his forearm, offering what comfort she can. “Are you done being an idiot yet?”

Eddie considers it. “Yeah, I think so. I just gotta clear it with one more person,” he says softly.

…

His son is the most important person in his life. Eddie has so much to make up for. He was away for so long and he missed so much. And he vowed that he would never let Christopher down again.

But he has. Of course he has, he’s only human. But he keeps trying and he never gives up. And he figures that’s got to count for something.

For over two years, Eddie watched the relationship blossom between Buck and Chris. He watched as Buck doted on his kid, took him under his wing, and not long after, he started loving him.

Eddie now includes Buck’s name on his list of emergency contacts.

It took a little while longer, but eventually Eddie realizes that Chris looks up to Buck like another parent.

The moment really came when he peeks into Chris’s bedroom and sees Buck reading his son a bedtime story, one of Christopher’s favorites. Chris insists every night that Buck is there. Buck does the voices better than Eddie.

There they are, side by side. Chris’s eyes are drooping, no longer focused on the page. Buck’s voice is still animated and excited, though getting softer by the minute. And the look on his face, Eddies loves that look. Eddie loves him.

It’s a terrifying thought.

It catches him off guard. It scares him. Chris already lost one parent. Eddie couldn’t bear his son losing another. So he kept Buck at a distance. Tried to draw a line between what he had with Buck and what they had as a family.

Hen was right, he was a goddamn moron.

Buck was family long before he and Eddie got wasted and fell into bed with each other.

“Hey, kiddo,” Eddie kneels down by his son where he’s playing with his toys in the living room.

“Hi, Dad.”

Chris’s grin warms his heart and Eddie can’t help but smile as well. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

Eddie smiles at his kid, the shining epitome love of his life. “I want to talk to you about Buck.”

Chris’s grin grows wider. “I like Buck. Is he coming over tonight?”

“I like Buck, too.” Eddie says carefully. “So you… you like it when Buck is here?”

“Yeah, Buck is fun. And he loves me.”

“He sure does. Who wouldn’t love you, kiddo?” Eddie jokes.

“No,” Chris shakes his head. “Buck is special.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And why is that?”

“Because you love him, Dad.”

Eddie freezes. He closes his jaw and swallows the lump in his throat. “Chris, how… how did you know that?” He whispers.

“The way you look at him,” Chris says easily. “And the way you act around him.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie presses.

“When Buck was hurt, you were really worried,” Chris explains. “You were sad and you were upset, and you would do everything you could to make him feel better. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Eddie says softly. When Buck got crushed by a ladder truck, there were moments when Eddie thought he was going to lose him forever. He was scared—terrified. Not just for Buck’s health and safety, but he was scared that his life could forever be changed because some asshole kid decided to play bomber.

And when Buck almost died from the pulmonary embolism, because he pushed himself too hard—that made Eddie angry. Angry that Buck risked his life and his health and did this to himself. And maybe if Eddie had tried harder to be there for him, Buck wouldn’t have felt the need to get back to where he was so quickly.

Apparently, Eddie didn’t hide this very well.

“When Buck’s not here, you’re sad,” Chris says softly. “When he’s here, you’re happy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. Kids make it sound so simple. He has a hard time remembering why he’s been acting like an idiot for so long. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So you love him,” Chris says simply.

“I do,” Eddie says quietly, tears growing in his eyes. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course I am, Dad. Buck is amazing,” Chris says with a grin.

Eddie has never been so grateful that he has such an amazing kid. He still can’t believe he lucked out, that he has such a wonderful son. “Yeah,” he agrees, pulling him into a hug. Tears trail down his cheeks, but they’re happy tears. “Buck really is amazing.”

Chris smiles and lets out a soft laugh against him. “I love Buck, too, Dad.”

So, now Eddie has some groveling to do.

…

Buck isn’t surprised when he opens his door to see Eddie on the other side. He does huff in annoyance though. “What are you doing here?” He asks. They haven’t spoken since Buck walked out. Buck has avoided his calls and the texts go unanswered.

Eddie doesn’t answer at first. But he motions awkward with his arm and Buck eventually steps back to let him in.

“Look, I really don’t want to do this with you, Eddie—”

“Of course, you don’t,” Eddie says quickly. “We were always awful when we’re mad at each other. Over such dumb shit too.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Buck gives him an odd look. “Am I just supposed to get over it? I mean, I’ve had your dick up my ass, are we just supposed to pretend that never happened?”

Eddie blushes. “Yeah, that’s not really a memory I want to erase from existence, so…”

Buck stares at him, stubborn and calm. “So, what exactly are you saying?”

“What I’m trying to say, is that I’ve been acting like a royal idiot lately,” Eddie says. “I did pretty much everything wrong. I didn’t think that I wanted you until you were with someone else. And then when I did have you, I didn’t realize that what we had was so much more than I ever gave us credit for.”

Buck stays stubbornly silent. But he’s not kicking him out, which is enough to make Eddie continue. “I need you to know that I love you, and not just as a friend. I love you like a partner, like Chris’s second dad, like a missing piece of myself, and when you’re not there… it literally feels like my life is falling apart.”

His breath shudders and he sighs, trying to get a hold of himself. “I am so lost without you, Buck. And I was such an idiot that I didn’t realize it sooner. So, please… I am asking from the bottom of my heart… will you give me another chance?”

“I always knew you were an idiot,” Buck eventually says. “I don’t know where Chris gets his smarts from, because it definitely isn’t you.”

Eddie grins and takes a hesitant step forward. “Yeah, I deserve that,” he says softly, and then he takes another step. “You’re right, I was an idiot.”

“I’m gonna make you take me out, you know,” Buck whispers. “You’re gonna have to wine and dine me, and I mean, the good, expensive stuff.”

“Whatever you want, babe. I swear.” Eddie takes another final step and then he’s crowding into Buck’s space, pressing tight against his chest. He leans up to press their lips together and Buck’s got that look in his eyes that Eddie knows all too well. The look that says he’s in too deep, he loves too much, and if Eddie hurts him again, that’ll be the end of him.

But Eddie swears to high heaven, he’ll do his best to never ever hurt this man again.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been such an idiot,” Eddie murmurs against his lips.

“You swear you’ll stay with me this time?” Buck asks. “You’ll try this for real with me?”

Eddie nods. He presses their lips together, again and again, like he can’t get enough. His fingers are wrapped tight around the other man’s shirt, and he can tell Buck is holding himself back. He presses his weight against him, pushing him through the small apartment until they both fall against the couch—the stairs being too much to traverse in their state. The intense heat of their bodies together opens all the floodgates.

“I promise you, Buck. For real. You and me,” Eddie nods his head, his fingers fumble with Buck’s zipper, and then his own. “Like we should have been this whole goddamn time.”

When the clothes are off and skin is pressed to bare skin, they moan like starved men gasping for air. There’s lube somewhere in Buck’s coffee table drawer, and a box of condoms. Eddie presses his fingers into the hard flesh along Buck’s hips and buries his face in the crook of his neck. He sucks bruises into Buck’s skin, tastes him on his tongue and smells him in his nostrils. He can feel the other man’s pulse; strong, fast, and steady. He feels it rise and flutter as he moves inside him.

Their bodies grind together and the feeling is intoxicating; hot, sickly, and sweet. They’re reckless and dangerous and so in love that they’re sure nothing they’ve ever experienced even comes close to this.

They groan and pant and freefall toward climax together, limbs wrapped around each other, messy and uncoordinated. And when it’s over, Eddie presses his sweaty temple gently against Buck’s cheek. He’s gasping, struggling to catch his breath.

Buck chuckles softly, his hand comes up to wrap around Eddie’s arm. Their sounds echo through the apartment, a familiar comfort to them both.

“I’m hungry,” Buck says softly, before Eddie has even pulled out of him. “You wanna grab some food?”

Eddie grins and nods his head.

This feels good, he thinks to himself, better than anything he’s had before. And this time, he’s going to remember that.

…

Some time later:

“Chim, your brother is still here?” Eddie nods to Albert who’s engrossed in conversation with Buck by the bar. Eddie narrows his eyes at the serious look on Buck’s face. He wonders what they’re talking about.

Chimney gives him a strange look, perhaps surprised that he asked, and then he shrugs. “Yeah, thought he was staying a few weeks. Guess that’s turned into a few months now.”

“Couch-surfing for months, that’s got to be rough,” Eddie comments.

“My couch, random strange hook ups’ couches, Buck’s couch. That guy really knows how to get around.”

Eddie frowns. “Buck’s couch?” He knew Albert had stayed at Buck’s place once, after Chimney blew up at him. Not that it had happened again though.

Chim raises his eyebrows. “You don’t know? They hang out like… all the time. It’s fucking weird, man. If I didn’t know you and Buck got a serious thing going on, I’d be a little worried about Buckaroo over there taking my little brother’s innocence.”

Eddie gapes. “Are you serious?” His eyes fly around the bar again, not knowing what he thought he’d see. Buck and Albert look the same as they did twenty seconds ago, still talking by the bar.

“I’m kidding!” Chim says, laughing as he slaps Eddie on the arm. “Of course, I’m kidding!”

Eddie breathes in relief.

Until Chim continues, “My little brother doesn’t have an ounce of innocence inside him.”

Eddies doesn’t know how to approach this. He wants to know why he didn’t know—why Buck didn’t tell him that he was apparently close to Chimney’s estranged half-brother. He wants to go over there and find out what they’re talking about. How does he do that without coming across like some jealous asshole? His mind flips back and forth between playing it cool and storming over there.

Thankfully, Buck saves him the trouble.

He pulls him aside and looks hesitant when he speaks, which Eddie takes note of right away.

“Hey, can we talk about something real quick?” Buck asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Eddie says carefully. “What’s going on?

“Um,” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “You know how I kind of made you grovel when you came back? And I kind of emphasized how you were a total dick, who needed to beg and plead before getting back into my pants?”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah.” He remembers it vividly.

“Okay,” Buck admits. “So, I’m kind of an asshole.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Eddie chuckles.

“No,” Buck insists. “I actually am kind of a dick.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He clicks and swipes while Eddie watches confused until Buck holds the screen up in front of his face.

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s looking at. It’s his contact info, with call data, and all their incoming and outgoing calls.

“Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

Eddie stares, blank and confused, until it dawns on him. He sees the call log. He sees the date and the numbers and there’s only one possibility. Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds that he stayed on the line. Listening. Like a perv.

“Um… I—I wasn’t—” He stutters. “I don’t know what—”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I knew you were listening,” Buck says quickly as he shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Um, I don’t really know how to tell you this, but… Tom wasn’t real.”

“What?” Eddie blinks and struggles to process. “Tom, your… ex-boyfriend?”

Buck looks genuinely shameful. “Yeah, he was… kind of, made up?” He says lightly.

Eddie’s mind sort of short-circuits then. Because what the hell does that mean? “W-what?!” He sputters.

“I’m sorry!” Buck says quickly. And then he rolls into a tangent that Eddie can only hope to follow as best his can. “It was Albert’s idea, ‘cause I was complaining about how much I was in love with you. And apparently, I talk about you a lot, like non-stop and he was getting sick of it. And I think I was moping and pissing him off because he just wanted a drinking buddy. And then he kept going on and on about behavior theory and logical decision making and all this other shit that I don’t really understand!”

Eddie blinks and Buck continues, “He told me what to do to get you and I just went along with it! He told me to invent some guy and it would make you realize what you wanted all along… And that if I threatened to pull away, you would realize that you love me and that this thing between us—” He gestures quickly with his hands. “—is real. And it worked!”

Buck shrugs, a small, hopeful expression on his face. “Except now I kind of feel like a dick because I made you feel bad, and he said that I should come clean about everything and that you wouldn’t mind because you love me too—”

“Wait, wait, wait… hold up,” Eddie’s mind hasn’t quite caught up yet. “You lied to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Buck whispers.

“Tom was… was a lie?” Eddie tries to think of the evidence. He never met the guy, never even saw a photo. Buck just kept talking about him… “But the call…”

“Yeah, I kind of had a bit of fun with that one,” Buck grins bashfully. “Our first phone sex!” He tries to joke, but it falls flat when he sees the look on Eddie’s face.

“You tricked me? You’ve been lying this whole time?”

“Well, I… I prefer to think of it as, I used dishonest tactics to persuade you…”

“The—the fucking… naked picture of you…” Eddie’s jaw drops as the pieces finally come together in his head. “You sent that to me on purpose!”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says softly.

“I cannot believe this! You—you inserted yourself into my life, lied to me for months, pull yourself away, and of course, I’m over here tweaking like an addict without dope! And feeling like the biggest jerk in the world!”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic, I think.”

“Where is that asshole?”

Buck’s eyes widen comically when he sees the other man prepare for a rampage. “Eddie, wait!”

But Eddie’s already making his way back to the group. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but he knows that he’s furious, embarrassed that he was played so easily, and completely blind-sided by the truth. He can’t even put his thoughts in order to make a coherent—

“Hey, asshole!”

All eyes turn to him, shocked by his outburst. Hen and Chim are clearly confused, unsure of what’s going on. A second later, he registers that Buck has caught up to him. The expression on his face is oddly reminiscent of Scrat from the Ice Age movies that Chris loves watching. Stunned, sheepish, and a little bit of ‘did I do that?’

“What the hell is wrong with you?! You think you can just mess with people’s heads like this?! You think you can just treat this shit like a game, like… like some fucking chess game?!”

“Eddie, stop!” Buck pleads.

“Whoa, wait, what the hell is going on?” Chim asks.

“You fucking piece of shit, I ought to—”

Albert stands slowly, his hands held up innocently in front of him. Eddie breathes slowly through his nose. He can feel Buck’s presence behind him, ready to hold him back in case he decides to do something royally stupid.

“I’m sorry if you feel fooled,” Albert says carefully. “We had no intention to hurt you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Behind him, the others stare, mouths gaping. “What is happening right now?” Maddie whispers.

“Eddie, please think about this,” Buck says softly. “Please—”

Eddie cuts him off by taking a step forward. They all hold their breaths. And then, to their surprise and his own, Eddie wraps his arms around Albert in a tight hug. “You are such an asshole.” His voice is tight and strangled. “But thank you.”

“Okay, can someone please explain what is going on?” Chim asks. “We’re kind of losing our minds over here.”

“I think we might need some more drinks for this,” Hen says, right before she and Maddie share a look.

“Amen, sister.”

Later, after everyone is caught up and thoroughly impressed—

“I studied game theory in college,” Albert explains.

“Glad to see you’re doing something good with that fancy education of yours,” Chim says sarcastically.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this,” Maddie says, incredulous. “Who knew you were such a good actor?” She smacks her little brother on the arm and chuckles at Buck’s yelp.

—and Buck and Eddie finally have a moment to themselves, Buck asks him, “So I can relax and trust that you’re not going to kick his ass?”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head. “I wanted to.”

“You had me worried there for a second.”

“Albert’s genius is what got me to stop being an idiot,” Eddie says softly. “He got us together, and you are the love of my life. I could never hate him for that.”

Buck makes a face, about to coo and aww at the ‘love of his life’ comment until Eddie continues. “You, on the other hand, you lied to me. For months. You manipulated me, made me feel like an asshole for hurting you. And this whole time, you were playing me. I think I’m owed some groveling now.”

Buck pouts and says, “My feelings were never a lie. I’ve been in love with you for years and I was getting desperate. You know, desperate measures and all.” His lips turn up a little and he wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist, tugging him close. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. Please don’t be mad at me. After all, I am the love of your life.”

Eddie grins and leans close, pressing their lips together for a gentle kiss.

“Yeah, you really are.”

Fin.

#911 #911 Fox #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #Buddie #Buddie fic #my fics #I loved writing this so much

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 18

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

~~*~~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

~~*~~

Read Chapter 18 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

If Edge were forced to consider it, likely under penalty of punishment and with great embarrassment, he would have been forced to admit that the next week might well be the happiest of his entire life.

The station was running as smoothly as possible, all its occupants working diligently as the good weather held. No major mechanical issues, no emergencies, large or small, and overhead the auroras swirled and spiraled throughout the endless nights. His brother was doing well, going willingly if grudgingly to Alphys for his next healing session, and Alphys began joining them at meals more often than not, sitting next to Undyne who fairly glowed her adoration. All the researchers were busily focused on their work and not a single complaint, petty or otherwise, found its way to Edge’s door.

That was well and good, but not the source of his happiness. No, that came from the cheerful smile of another skeleton Monster who stood at over 2 meters tall and probably weighed no more than 100lbs while he was soaking wet and wearing full outdoor gear, including the boots.

Likely Rus could calculate the actual weight in that brilliant mind of his, someday, Edge should ask.

Rus fit into the station like a puzzle piece they never knew was missing, both at the dinner table as he laughed at Undyne’s lewd jokes and in the lab as he helped Alphys with the delicate calibrations of her machines. When Edge visited Bonnie in the kitchen sometimes Rus would be there, chatting with quick flashes of his hands and even if he weren’t, Bonnie would still be working contently, humming tunelessly beneath her breath.

If Red chose to join the others in the rec room, the evening might end with the two of them in a round of horrible puns and insults that was better than a recorded stand-up routine and left any of the scientists there roaring with laughter, to the point that many came right after dinner hoping to find a good seat.

Then there were his own nights with Rus. It wasn’t simply the sex, delightful as it was, it was also the time afterward. With the curtains drawn back from the window, the aurora cast tangles of complicated light across them, filling the room to the brim. Edge could hold Rus in the circle of his arms and listen as he talked. About his work, about gossip around the station, whatever caught on his clever mind. If Edge were genuinely interested, he could ask questions and if he weren’t, he could simply drift and listen to that rich voice washing over him. And if he wanted Rus to be quiet, well, there were ways to handle that as well and his voice was just as lovely when he was moaning out Edge’s name, his bared bones lit in the soft glow of the southern lights

All of those things packaged together were like an unexpected gift, lovingly wrapped and brought to Edge here at the end of the world.

But was a simple piece of fruit that made Edge realize he was in love.

Edge was only just returning from taking the Glaciologists out to Station #5, a trip that took several hours to get there and back, and left him mostly sitting in the cab of the Cat, half keeping a watchful eye over them as they worked and half on the kindle he’d brought along. By this stage, he could generally trust the scientists not to endanger themselves needlessly out of ignorance or stupidity, or a combination of both, and it gave him a rare chance to catch up on his reading.

When they returned, the scientists had their heads all but glued together as they discussed results, leaving Edge on his own to take care of the vehicle before heading back inside. Before he could make it through the door, a slim body crashed into his own, almost sending both of them into the snowdrifts. Edge caught Rus automatically, sputtering protests and laughter as one as he was smothered in kisses, Rus’s mouth icy cold against his own.

Despite the layers of outdoor gear and gloves, when Rus practically tried to climb him, Edge only caught him under the knees and hefted him up, saying teasingly, “Are you having trouble walking today?”

“if i say yes, will you carry me?” Rus grinned, but he didn’t give Edge a chance to reply, squirming free despite Edge’s attempts to hold onto him. He tugged on Edge’s arm urgently, pulling him towards the door. “come on!”

Edge frowned and followed along, out of the arctic wind into the warmth of the vestibule, "What’s wrong?"

"nothing is wrong,” Rus whispered loudly, “but alphys has this whole place hotwired and it’s a secret!" He made a show of looking around furtively, winking at Edge as he pulled off his boots and coat.

Bemused, Edge did the same, hanging them up as he always did despite Rus’s impatience. He followed Rus back to his room. More like their room; somehow in the past few days, Rus practically moved in, only going back to his own for a change of clothes. Edge’s once empty bookshelves were gaining astronomy magazines and star charts, along with pencils that weren’t his, riddled with teeth marks from their owner absently chewing on them. Even Rus’s work was migrating here, the bedside table was a mess of pages and notes in Rus’s chicken-scratch writing.

Not even a week before Edge would have firmly believed that chaos introduced into his carefully organized life would be infuriating, and yet, even the stray sock in the corner of the room only filled him with fondness, a sign that Rus was still here.

The moment the door closed behind them, Rus crawled up on the bed but instead of a leer or an invitation to an afternoon delight, he held up a triumphant hand. “check this out!”

When he opened his fist, in his palm he held up a small brightly colored globe. An orange, the dimpled peel very nearly the same shade as his magic.

“Where on earth did you get that?” Edge asked, astonished. Oranges were rare treat that they usually only had when the ship first dropped off the researchers. They didn’t keep well and generally the only citrus available on the station came in frozen concentrates.

Rus grinned delightedly at his surprise. “bonnie.”

Of course. Some time ago Bonnie ordered a couple tiny dwarf fruit trees and she’d kept them in her own quarters with a small hydroponics setup that Alphys rigged for her. That was well over a year ago, closer to two, and he’d forgotten about them entirely. Until now.

“she was so excited,” Rus said gleefully, “she said it’s the first fruits she’s gotten!”

“And she gave one to you?”

Rus scoffed as he began carefully peeling the small fruit, “please, like you’re surprised. we all know i’m her favorite. here.”

Truer words.

Rus held out one of the segments, white threads of pith still clinging. Edge took it from his hand, bone lightly grazing bone, and cautiously ate it.

Juice burst across his tongue, almost bitterly sour and as Rus ate his own segment, his pretty face puckered, his grin going into a grimacing wince and in that moment with shared taste of the fruit between them, Edge knew he loved him.

Unremarkable, really. It was nothing like the ridiculous movies that Undyne sometimes watched, loudly claiming they were Alphys’s choice when she was the one sitting there watching with a Kleenex clutched uselessly in one hand as her good eye streamed unhindered and her eyepatch glistened wet over a pretend couple onscreen proclaiming their love.

But there were no fireworks, no lightning flash, not even the aurora blazing overhead. There was only a soft pulse in his soul, a realization.

He loved Rus. Loved his smile and his laughter, the joy he brought into Edge’s staid life. Loved him as he complained, “oooh, sour!”, flopping back on the bed and rolling on the blankets in mock convulsions.

He loved Rus and said nothing, only took another segment of orange when Rus offered it, finishing off the tiny fruit between them.

Rus took the last segment, twirling the little crescent between his fingers. He stuck it between his teeth, tipping his head up in teasing offering, and Edge was not particularly worldly when it came to lovers, but he knew an invitation when he saw one. He leaned down, biting gently on his half of the orange piece and the sourness was tempered in the sweetness of the kiss.

“welp, that’s that,” Rus sighed as he drew back to chew the last bite. “bonnie asked me to save the peel for her cookin’ needs.” Rus carefully set it on the table and his grin turned slyly inviting. “you need to run off for anything important, boss?”

“It’s possible I have a few minutes left to spare,” Edge told him blandly. He let none of his roiling thoughts show in his expression, revealing nothing but uncomplicated desire.

“good thing i’m a minute man—oh!”

Because when the time came, he would need to let this brilliant light go. Rus was as bright as the sun, he needed to get back to the world, and leave this one of frequent darkness behind.

But until then, this was his, and Edge was going to hold it close while he could.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, he wasn’t the only one taking an interest in Rus’s future.

“So, you asked the fashion victim to stick around yet?” Undyne grunted. She was holding up the antenna they were installing for Alphys, a strange, spiraling device made of coils and scaffolding. After Rus’s adventure out in the snowstorm, Alphys devised a way to extend the capacity of their communication devices, her hope being that when she was finished, their cell phones would work as actual phones and not simply as text devices whenever they were close enough to connect to the wi-fi.

It was something that had been discussed before and apparently, all she needed was a burst of inspiration to work it out.

“I have not, not that it’s any business of yours.” The conversation was paused as Edge used the hydraulic drill to fasten the base deep into the concrete slab that held the communications tower. Four screws the width of two of his fingers later, and it was done. Even the fiercest of storms wouldn’t shake it loose. He was less certain about Undyne and swatted her away when she tried to jostle it. She fell back, scowling down at him as he packed up the tools.

“Why not?” Undyne demanded. “Don’t know how it’s escaped your attention, but he’s pretty much the missing jelly from our peanut butter sandwich. He’d do good work here, boss, and we could use another set of hands.”

Edge only busied himself sweeping up the last of the metal shavings into a small tin and sealed it. “I believe I already said that it was none of your business.” Not that he believed anything so droll as ‘not her business’ was going to prevent Undyne from jamming her nonexistent nose in, but he had to try.

From her fierce scowl, he was concluding that the attempt was a failed one. “C’mon, boss, you can hire him on. You and I both know it ain’t about the money. The institute would put him on payroll if you asked and even if they didn’t, we could each kick in enough G to afford keeping him around.”

“You’re right, it is not about the money,” Edge agreed. Some of his irritation leaked in his voice as he pointed out, “Weren’t you the one advertising our relationship as a temporary distraction? In fact, I believe that was one of your major selling points.”

“Yeah, but.” Undyne sighed, shuffling her booted feet awkwardly like an oversized child. “Al really likes him, and she doesn’t take to people easy.”

“I know.”

“And you like him. I like him. Red likes him, fucking Bonnie likes him, and the only other person she’s ever liked is you,” Undyne said, watching Edge finish with the tools without lifting a bratty finger to help despite still having eight to spare. “So what’s the problem here? Once this crew clears out, between you and me, we could get him trained up. On the next rotation, he acts as a junior guide, only works in the local stations. He can keep up with his studies, work on his starry mumbo jumbo as much as he likes, and you two can keep up with your mattress tangoing, after Al adds a little more soundproofing to your room. Win-win, boss, that’s all I’m seeing.”

“There’s one problem with your plan.” Edge picked up the gear bag and headed towards the Maintenance building.

Undyne was on his heels almost immediately. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Rus doesn’t belong here,” Edge replied. The weather was clear and after the racket of the drill, his voice almost seemed to echo in the cold darkness. “We are here because this is the only place in this dust-forsaken world where we can live in peace. Rus doesn’t have to stay, he has his entire life out there to explore and despite your confidence in my skills in bed, I daresay he can find someone else with similar aptitude out there.”

“Aw, c’mon, boss!” Undyne whined.

Edge stopped and faced her, and even through his goggles and hers, she looked upset. Undyne was also not one who took to people easily, cementing proof that Rus was somehow an expert at worming his way into their corner of the world. It did raise a few odd warning bells, reminders of his brother’s concerns over Rus, over his brother who should be dead, warnings that Edge was not ignoring but not allowing to linger in the forefront of his mind. It could be suspicious, or it could be that Rus was simply a very likable person, his personality shone like the stars he watched so diligently. Certainly none of the others on his team could say that, Undyne and Alphys might have a sparkle but Red was more of a black hole and Edge likened his own temperament to a piece of concrete.

Frankly, he rather expected Rus to laugh if he were asked to stay and Edge wouldn’t blame him for it. Rus had less than two weeks left of his rotation and whatever fallout came from him being here, they’d know soon enough.

“Undyne,” Edge said, trying for gentleness. “he has a family, a career waiting for him out there. Staying here at the end of the world will leach that spark out of him.”

Undyne only bared her teeth in a razor grimace, “If you’re gonna talk about him like that, don’t even try to convince me you don’t want him to stay.”

“I never said that I didn’t.” Edge started walking again, deliberately giving Undyne his back.

She didn’t take the hint. “Yeah, well, you might want to ask his opinion on that before you go on ahead and make it for him. Ask him!”

“No, because he might damn well be foolish enough to stay!” Edge snapped. “I want what’s best for him and I am self-aware enough to know that it isn’t me.”

“You sure?” Undyne retorted. She flung an arm out, gesturing to the endless expanse of icy landscape surrounding them. “All this snow ain’t exactly Alphys’s idea of a good time either, but she came with us and she stays.”

Where else could she possibly go, Edge did not say. No matter how truthful it was. Where could any of them go, they’d lived out with the Humans, tried on the idea of a normal life and found the fit to be an ill one. “I’m through discussing this with you, I told you, it’s none of your business.”

“It sure as fucking hell is my business if I have to sit for the next year watching you mope, you bony-ass, stubborn—” she trailed away, her held tilting to the side. Edge heard it, too, both of them turning to the north towards the faint rumbling sound overhead. Lights separated from the starry sky, a helicopter coming in fast.

“Who the fuck…?” Undyne muttered.

Red’s voice came out thin and filled with static over the walkie-talkie. “hey, boss, we got visitors.”

“Yes, we know,” Edge hastened his steps, tossing the tool bag into the Maintenance shed.

“already got the pilot on the horn. says they’re from the institute. he’s got the right landing codes. want me to send them in?”

“Direct them towards the helicopter pad,” Edge told him, “I’m on my way.”

Undyne was close at his side, her face drawn down in concern. “Since when does the Institute do more than send us a new list of researchers and take our supply list?”

“They sent me an email a while ago saying we might be receiving visitors,” Edge admitted, “but they never followed up on it. I’d honestly forgotten.” The unusual missive had gotten lost in the shuffle in the midst of his and Rus’s past argument.

The helicopter pad was as well-maintained as the rest of the station, kept clear of snow and debris despite nearly always being empty. It was generally only for emergencies, although Red threw out the occasional idle jibe that once his skull was healed, he was looking into getting a pilot’s license. As if Antarctica didn’t have enough dangers without his brother dive-bombing down from the sky.

They kept back, watching the sleek machine settle its narrow runners on the pad. The helicopter pilot only waved and did not exit, the side door sliding open and two figures clad in outdoor gear climbed out.

Next to him Edge felt the superheated surge of magic from Undyne, the air suddenly thick with ozone.

The bundled-up visitors coming towards them were obviously Monsters, one of them towering over the other who was not at all short. There were passing few Monsters of that size, less still with a nearly visible aura of power radiating from them, a sign of a boss monster.

They came to a stop a distance away, the larger Monster pushing up their goggles to regard them with eyes that were a deep, solemn shade of red.

“Hello, Captain,” Toriel said clearly. She inclined her head regally to Undyne.

If it was an attempt at diplomacy, it failed from the second word. Undyne puffed up like an angered sea lion, snarling out, “I’m not the one in charge here, you sanctimonious twat,” She heaved in a breath, spit flying as she growled, “and I sure as shit ain’t the captain of the guard, anymore.”

She took a step forward, eye and gloved hands already wreathed threateningly with magic and Edge held her back with a cautioning arm, though Toriel made no move to defend herself.

“Easy,” Edge murmured. He raised his voice, calling over, “What brings you to our station, your Highness.”

“I do, actually.” Her companion stepped forward and a pair of glowing hands formed out of magic appeared in front of them, moving in Hands to form the words even as Edge flinched back in shock at hearing a spoken language he barely recalled from childhood. It seemed somehow far away, like a voice heard in a dream. The other Monster pushed up their own goggles, revealing a be-spectacled skeleton face with narrow fissures running from both their sockets, each in the opposite direction as the other. “I’m looking for my brother.”

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell undyne #underfell alphys #arctic AU

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strangeinternetwasteland · 4 years

Text

Briar- Chapter 1

Authors note: I would like to thank @madaras-housewife for her help with this chapter! You’re amazing and you’re insight is always welcome!

Two things Briar knew for sure were: 1. She loved the feeling of the sun’s rays on her skin, the way the sun always seemed to embrace her; and 2. Writing or being creative can be a pain in the ass. Especially, if she was having writer’s block. Which, as it had happened, was her current misfortune. Last week had been a breeze with uncomplicated thoughts. Everything came out as naturally as water flows. Conversely, this week everything was stopped up like a dam. No, a dam had a trickle at least, or some water was able to flow freely.

Briar muttered curses underneath her breath. The many things she had tried to activate whatever power her brain had in her writing processes ceased to work. Today, she decided, rather impulsively, that a walk in the forest just outside the village is what was needed to open up those creative passages within her brain, or so she thought.

After a bit of walking among the trees, Briar found a rather smoothed out, but large boulder to perch herself upon.

“What can I write about here?” She mused aloud. “The lush forest? No. The way the leaves scatter the sun on the forest floor? Nope. Sunshine against my skin? No way. The way the wind plays with my hair? Absolutely not. None of this was useful at all!” He deliberated with herself. “I am...exasperated? Frustrated? Defeated? Yes, I feel defeated with this.” She said rather angrily as she got off the boulder and stomped away from the spot she currently inhabited.

“WHY CAN’T YOU WORK TODAY?!?!?” She yelled into the forest. She was frustrated but continued on her journey to nowhere while looking for inspiration.

After a bit more walking and pondering why she was having such bad writer’s block, Briar decided to soak up some of the springtime sun’s rays. She laid down on the ground noting it wasn’t as hard as it normally would’ve felt. Briar shut her eyes enjoying the songs and chirps of the birds and the soft rustle of the wind.

She felt the tension in her body slowly leaving and felt her body relax upon the soft grass dotted with canola and narcissi flowers. Not too long after, Briar felt a presence close by.

She popped her eyes open and jolted herself upright. Scanning the area, she didn’t see anybody, but she certainly felt them. A rustle in the bushes gave away their location. Briar stood up feeling frightened she was getting ready to run if she deemed it necessary.

“I am sorry if I have spooked you.” said a voice. Briar contemplated running at this moment, but just then he appeared. “ I mean you no harm, honestly.” He continued. Briar knew that he could be trusted. Perhaps it was the fact that he seemed mature with the lines under his eyes or the fact that she instantly recognized the face of Itachi Uchiha. He always carried himself well.

“I know.” Briar finally said. Itachi gave a small smile. The air around them seemed to have grown heavy and it left Briar gasping for air.

A look of concern crossed Itachi’s pale face. He took small steps toward Briar, trying to judge if it was allowed by her. Briar stood trying to catch her breath but felt like she was drowning on air. Itachi had slowly made his way over to stand next to Briar. It seemed as if Briar was in great distress to Itachi and he wouldn’t leave her alone if she needed help. After a few deep breaths, Briar’s breathing had evened out.

“I am fine,” Briar stated, realizing that Itachi hadn’t moved away from her at all. He carefully watched her, in case of any more distress. “I am okay.” She said, not sure if he had heard her at all

“I heard shouting a bit ago, and wanted to make sure all was alright.” He eyed Briar carefully trying to gauge her.

“Oh, yeah sorry. I was just feeling it” Briar said feeling embarrassed in front of the Uchiha.

Itachi moved to sit down on the ground, looking up at Briar he asked, “Would you like to talk about it?”

There was something so sweet about Itachi. He was polite and he seemed genuine with his words. Briar had heard about Itachi, he was a prodigy of the Uchiha clan and was well-loved by most of the village. His looks probably helped a bit as well. Briar felt utterly abominable in his presence. She had met him last year while working on a project with Sasuke. Briar wondered if he even remembered meeting then.

“No. That’s okay. I don’t want to bother you or take up any more of your time. I don’t deserve that.” Briar said dejectedly.

Itachi offered a smile, “ Why would you think that?”

Briar’s breath hitched when she saw the smile on his face. She couldn’t believe that he was even talking to her. He wasn’t as cold as the other members of his clan.

“I just do.” Briar retorted defensively.

“Well, then if you don’t want to talk about it, then would it be alright if we just sat down and enjoyed the sunshine then?” He countered.

This felt like a dream for Briar. Here sat Itachi, the man she crushed on for what seemed like her whole life, and he wanted to spend time with her. Her heart and stomach fluttered. “Alright.” She agreed and sat down facing the man.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Briar was deep in her own thoughts when Itachi spoke.

“You remind me of Sasuke. Stubborn, and wanting to do everything on your own, not accepting help when it’s given to you.”

“You mean annoying?” Briar responded.

“No, not at all. You know, I don’t know what is bothering you. I do know that whatever it is, though, that keeping it locked away won’t solve the problem. I can listen and only offer advice if it’s wanted.” Itachi countered.

This displeased Briar immensely, she didn’t want to be seen as a little kid to Itachi, but she didn’t want to feel like a burden either. It was quite the predicament she had found herself in. She really did want to tell Itachi about her issue, but she didn’t want him to feel like she was some complete stranger ranting about nothing that really mattered to him.

“Well.... I guess I am just at a loss.” Briar chose her words carefully not wanting to give away too much or overload Itachi.

Itachi just sat there giving her a gentle smile, waiting for her to speak more.

“I am working on this project for school and I cannot finish it. I mean it’s for finals and it isn’t due for another week, but, I can’t procrastinate. Everything was fine last week, and this week nothing is working. My brain won’t cooperate. I am frustrated, and here you are listening to a complete stranger who is an idiot ramble on about stupid problems. I don’t know what to do.”

“First of all, finals week is awful. Secondly, Writing is a process, it is like the ocean, it ebbs and flows with the tides. Writing comes as goes, even the best writers get blocked from time to time. Third, we’re not complete strangers. We met last year when you were working on a project for business class with Sasuke.” He chuckled as if remembering something. “You locked your keys in your car. I gave you a ride home to get your spare.”

Briar felt her face burning with embarrassment and cursed herself again for being so stupid. Of course, he remembered meeting her, she was just a nuisance to Sasuke. In that moment of reflection, Itachi leaned forward with two fingers extended and poked Briar in the forehead. It stupified her long enough for her to not notice that he slipped a piece of paper on Briar’s lap and walk away.

Briar coming back from reality quickly looked around for Itachi. Only to look down to find a piece of paper with neat handwriting scrawled on it including Itachi’s name, phone number, and a note saying don’t be a stranger. Suddenly, Briar got up and knew exactly what the subject of her final was to be.

#itachi uchiha #itachi x reader

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livingintheworldofstories · 4 years

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Humany-Wumany (part 2 / 2)

Pairing: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor x Rose Tyler Genre: angst with a happy ending Summary: The Doctor is determined he will be excellent at humaning, but then, he's known for succumbing to hubris every now and then. And he'll try to win Rose Tyler's heart when she's still longing for the Time Lord version of him - though even he knows that might be a hopeless endeavour, doomed to fail from the start. ao3: Humany-Wumany Part 1: Humany-Wumany (part 1 / 2) *** One of the things the Doctor has always loved about humans is their unwavering optimism. And it really is hard to keep at bay. Suddenly, he can see the future again. Rose Tyler will be there. The rest is just specifics.

It’s scary how much he wants it. And has wanted it, for such a long time. His favorite scents: morning breath, her strawberry shampoo, slow-dripping coffee. When laughter over the breakfast table blends into a hand held under the dinner table blends into a life lived happily. Each glittering moment of human ordinariness has become unbearably precious. The universe is his to lose.

“What’s put you in such a good mood?” Rose asks him on his third day nearly human after he’s come into the dining room humming under his breath. She looks beautiful in her tiredness, her unkempt hair falling into her eyes.

Sleep would come more easily if she was right next to him.

“Egg warmers,” he declares confidently, even though it’s just the first thing that pops in his head. “Fascinating human invention. Small egg with a hat, imagine that! Do you have egg warmers somewhere?” He looks into the direction of the kitchen counters, but Rose shakes her head.

“Mum’s not really much for knitting.”

The Doctor pulls a disappointed face. He assesses the tragic situation on the breakfast table: two poor eggs in egg cups, both hatless.

“What’s the point of eggs if not to put little hats on them?”

He grabs a banana from the basket of non-fake fruits. He perches himself up on the table, right next to Rose’s egg.

“So I’ve been thinking,” he starts. Rose watches him over the rim of her coffee mug. “I should practice being human, now that I’m, y’know, human…”

Rose is sending him a slow look, probably wondering where he is going with this. Which he is, of course! He’s always going somewhere.

“Now, tables, if you think about it, are really terribly boring.” “Maybe that’s because you’ve been using it as a chair this whole time,” she counters and kicks at his foot.

“You’re right, chairs are even more boring. Terrible concept, really. Luckily, humans have this great other invention – where they eat food on the ground, no tables or chairs anywhere involved. How brilliant is that?”

“You mean… a picnic?” “Exactly! A picnic! What a great name, rolls off the tongue. Let’s have a big picnic in a tic!” “That’ll do the trick,” Rose says. She seems amused.

“So you’re on board? Later today, picnic?” “What, are you telling me you are preparing food?” She doesn’t sound overly excited at the prospect, maybe even a little horrified.

“Oh yes. Great food-preparer, me. Or, well…” He hesitates, remembering the kitchen incident. “If it doesn’t involve any heating processes. Or knives. Or a complicated assortment of spices. Or an uncomplicated one. And come to think of it, do you think Jackie could be persuaded to let me into the kitchen again?”

“Lucky for you, you have the right connections,” she smirks at him. For a moment, he blinks, uncomprehending.

“Oh! Right.” It’s a good feeling that fills his chest with warmth. To think that they’re in this together. “So we got a deal, then, associate?”

“You bet we do,” Rose grins, “I can’t wait to see your second attempt at permanently destroying the kitchen.” The Doctor, of course, takes great offense. “Hey! Have you got no faith in me?” “When it comes to cooking?” Rose leans back in her chair. “None at all.”

“That barely counts as cooking,” the Doctor says, because he is an amazing hair-splitter when he wants to be. “Which I could be great at, by the way, if I had a little bit of practice.”

“No doubt about it,” Rose says and gets up from her chair to walk away into the kitchen.

“You don’t sound like you believe that,” the Doctor calls after her indignantly. He can hear her snicker. “Rose?” She’s laughing at him again. “Rose!”

But it’s fine. She’s warming up to him. He knows so far all his attempts at being normal have failed miserably, but at least she isn’t fed up with it yet. She’s still giving him chances. But it’s incredibly difficult to gauge how many he has left. Before it becomes clear to her that this is not working. That he may be impressive saving worlds and traveling through space and time, but that, when it comes to being human, he’s a lost cause. She might realize soon that she’ll be better off with someone who’s genuinely human. Zero percent Time Lord. One hundred percent suited for a domestic life. Not like he is. He is unused to this feeling of inferiority. Usually it’s the other way around. He’d often have to argue that his head was perfectly normal sized and not in the least too big for his body. But now… What good is being able to operate a highly complex space ship from, say, the 67th century, when you can’t even operate a laundry machine? Who, in a small corner of London, will be dazzled by his ability to speak dozens of alien languages, when none of these alien races will even make contact with earth for several centuries or longer? They were downright ludicrous, really, the accusations of his other self – born out of blood and anger and revenge. Born in fire. All he can set on fire is the kitchen. The bloody Oncoming Storm raging through a mansion on earth, oh, what a threat he makes. The universe shall shudder in fear when he takes his gruesome revenge on the dish washer for not cleaning all the dishes properly.

It’s all alright though, all okay, so long as he focuses on the task at hand. He’ll show this world that he can make a mean sandwich, if not much else. *** Rose tips back her head when she laughs, which exposes her throat, which is beautiful to look at. Her hair glows brightly in the sun. It’s so easy to forget all the things that are wrong if this one thing is right.

They are sitting on a blanket in a park close to the mansion. Rose had picked the spot. Before they’d left, she’d asked him: “Well, where do you want to go?” “I don’t know anything about this universe,” he’d said, “you lead the way.” And then she’d taken his hand, his cursed, magical hand that had once been fully Time Lord. And now they were eating his carefully prepared sandwiches, which she seemed to like – all according to a nefarious plan of his own making. (Ha, take that, other Doctor.)

“So there’s no Eiffel tower in this universe?” he asks.

“Nope,” she says.

So they couldn’t visit the most romantic spot of the so-called City of Love in this universe. Of course, in all the universe, there are far more romantic spots he could have taken her, but now that they are earth-bound, it is a bit of a bummer. But then again… She probably wouldn’t want to go with him now anyway.

“I suppose,” he begins, suddenly somber, “there are some things this universe just doesn’t have to offer.”

She holds his gaze and he is overcome by the feeling that one word from her could make his single heart stop beating.

“Do you prefer the other one?” he asks, even though he really shouldn’t. For his own sake. But anything he does these days seems to end up cutting his own flesh, so what difference does it really make? She doesn’t respond for a moment. “The other universe, I mean,” he clarifies quickly, almost tripping over the words.

She still won’t look away. Why not? Is there something on his face? Is she seeing him? (How couldn’t she?) But she shakes her head.

“I mean, when it comes down to it, they’re not all that different,” she says slowly. “For a while, I got really irritated at those pink traffic lights, but eventually I got used to it. There are some things I miss, but this universe has its perks too.”

“It does?” She leans forward conspiratorially.

“There might not be an Eiffel tower in this universe, but there are the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.” “I thought Babylon didn’t exist anymore,” he tilts his head in thought. “Visited once, but that was a long time in the past.” “Not in this universe,” she says, “and those gardens are supposed to be really… romantic.”

“Yeah?” A tentative smile crosses his face. “Yeah,” she smiles back. And then she intertwines their fingers. And it’s so hard to breathe when she looks at him this way, the way she used to. Maybe they are not out of sync any longer. Maybe she can really see him. Maybe they can live in a house with a garden, even if it had a white picket fence. Maybe the key to the universe isn’t gone with the TARDIS, it just looks a little different now.

Then he remembers.

“Here,” he says and reaches into his pocket. “I saw this and thought of you.” She makes a small noise when she sees the dandelion he picked on the way, one he can’t really interpret without the TARDIS translating for him.

“I know it’s not a rose, but…” “Shut up.” But is that her typical don’t-be-an-idiot-shut-up, or is it you-shouldn’t-have-done-this-shut-up? When did she become so hard to read? He feels illiterate when it comes to Rose, like he tries so hard to understand but it just never quite adds up to a complete picture.

She takes the dandelion from him and puts it behind her ear and rolls her eyes at him, like don’t be an idiot.

“Suits you,” he says softly.

Then she frowns, touches the flower and then looks at their joined hands.

“Wait a minute,” she says, “is this a date?” He gulps when she lets go off his hand.

“Did you trick me into going on a date with you?” “Now, I wouldn’t say tricked,” he tries to reason.

“You lied! You said you wanted to practice being human.” “I would say skillfully talked around the truth.”

“I can’t believe you,” she harrumphs and lets herself fall back on the blanket.

His heart is beating irritatingly quickly. That seems to happen a lot, lately. Only got one heart and all it seems to want is to leap out of his chest and run away. Really rather rude, that.

“Are you upset with me?” he asks hesitantly.

“You’re an idiot,” she answers and shoves his shoulder lightly. But she doesn’t run off screaming. So he lays down right next to her, blinking up at the sun. Very slowly, he brushes his hand against hers. Then, because he is very brave, he slides their palms together. And then, in what might well be the however-manyeth World Wonder of this universe, she entangles their fingers and squeezes his hand.

*** Maybe being human is not so hard after all, the Doctor thinks. After spending the afternoon at the park, they’re standing in the corridor of the mansion. All day, Rose has barely let go off his hand.

“I should really go to sleep,” she says now, but doesn’t move. Perhaps she doesn’t want to leave. The Doctor knows he doesn’t. (He doesn’t want to go back to the big lonely bed where there is way too much space for dark thoughts to settle under the blanket with him.)

“Are you having nightmares?” he asks softly. He really hopes she will say no, but she gives him a small nod.

“So do I.” His voice almost cracks with the admission.

“Guess we can’t avoid that.” “No.” “But we don’t have to be alone.” It’s a fact as much as it’s a suggestion.

“No,” the Doctor whispers again.

After he has changed into the pajamas Rose had somehow procured for him, he enters her room. Even though she asked him to come, he feels a little like an intruder. He can barely see it in the dark, but it doesn’t matter, because his eyes are only on her and the way she is lying on her side under the blankets. Her bed is just as big as the guest bed. (But tonight, it won’t be lonely.)

He slips under the blanket quietly. She is watching him, too. Maybe they are both worried the other will disappear. Just like before. Immediately, she reaches out for his hand again, as if any point of contact could miraculously keep him in this universe.

“Are you dreaming…” he says, swallows, doesn’t want to ask, but somehow has to. “Are you dreaming about him?” “Would you be upset if I was?” “All I want…” Why has it suddenly become so hard for him to talk? Each word is stubborn, doesn’t want to be spoken. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

“It’s just that he’s out there somewhere.” She gets choked up. “All on his own.”

“Not forever.”

It can’t be a promise, he knows that, but he wants to reassure her in any way he can.

“How can you know?” “Well. I’m tougher than I look.”

“I know.” He runs his fingers over her arm, watching where her eyes glint in the dark. “At least he has Donna,” she whispers.

His throat gets tight.

“He doesn’t.” She props herself up on one elbow.

“She… She couldn’t have lasted long, with all that Time Lord knowledge in a human brain. It would have burned her up. The only way to save her would have been to erase any memory of me – of the Doctor from her mind. She’ll have forgotten him by now.” “Oh,” she sounds shocked. He’s mucking things up again. He’s not making her feel better, he’s making everything worse. And suddenly the thought of Donna presses down on him, so hard that he drops on his back instead of facing Rose. Donna’s voice in his head when he found out she really thought of herself as unimportant echos in his mind.

“She’s – it was all my fault,” he confesses. He wouldn’t blame her if she resented him for it, not only for ruining Donna’s life but also that of the other Doctor. His very existence brought nothing but trouble, has made everyone unhappy. Even Rose, because he knows, just knows she would be happier if she was back on the TARDIS, if there was only one of him. “If it weren’t for the metacrisis – if it weren’t for me -” “Then she would be dead,” Rose interrupts, “the Daleks would have destroyed the TARDIS with Donna in it.”

Automatically, he opens his mouth to protest, but finds that there’s nothing he can say.

“I miss her,” he says instead. “She was my best friend. And the TARDIS. She’s gone from my mind.” “The telepathic link -”

For a moment, he reaches out with his mind, but there’s no one there. No Time Lords, no TARDIS. The problem with splitting yourself in two is that you only get to live half a life. (He didn’t expect the loneliness.) “Gone.”

A tear rolls from his eye, but it’s okay. She can’t see it in the darkness.

That’s not all he dreams of, of course. There isn’t a man in the universe with more regrets. (Not in this one, anyway.) How many people have died in his arms? How many have died because of him? How many times did he hope only to have it ripped away from him again? When he closes his eyes, he sees the world burning and it’s him that set it on fire. And it always has been.

But he can’t tell her that. Not yet. Not tonight.

Instead, he pulls her into his arms in the darkness and she presses herself to his chest. The world is small enough not to get lost in. And that night, both of them sleep soundly. ***

The next morning, the Doctor wakes up alone, but he isn’t overly anxious about it. He thinks about the whole time he’s getting dressed. He will get a job. In fact, he could work with Rose at Torchwood. That does seem to be where his expertise lies. Well, one of his expertises at least, the alien one.

He wants to take Rose on another date. He wants to go to the movies or the zoo or to get ice cream or chips or wherever humans go when they can’t take their eyes off one another.

He nearly starts whistling before he enters the dining room, but he doesn’t and that’s why he hears someone say his name on the inside.

“How are you and the Doctor doing?” Innocuous question, but something still gives the Doctor pause. He waits with his hand on the door handle.

“Fine.” It’s Rose’s voice. “I mean, I don’t know. It’s really… confusing.” Confusing. That’s okay, he’ll take that. He can deal with confusing. Loads of people have been confused by him in the past.

“Do you love him?”

Ah, he should step back, he should really go before she answers, but suddenly he is rooted to the spot, for the whole long moment she hesitates to answer. “I love the Doctor,” she says then, and the breath catches in his throat, “I don’t think I could ever love anyone else.” She says it with conviction, the way people who are in love tend to do. One love is always the one and only love, the last love, at least until the next one comes around. But if anyone is going to mean it, it’s Rose Tyler about the Doctor. Her Doctor. The one who has abandoned her.

For a dreadful, lovely little while he’d really forgotten. That now he would have to make do with half a life. And Rose is making do with half a man. If she ever loves him, it must be like falling in love with a memory. She is never going to say it back. She will allow him to love her, graciously, quietly, but she will never say it back.

He takes a deep breath and steels his shoulders. He won’t run away from this. He has braced himself against worse before. How foolish it had been of him to think she just needed time. What she needs, what she truly needs, is the other Doctor.

He pastes on a smile before he opens the door. Of course, Rose can tell his fake smiles from his real ones, but she won’t comment, assume it’s his general inability to adjust to his new situation. Which isn’t so far from the truth. (She was right when she said he was a thief. If she ever feels anything toward him, they will be stolen affections, belonging to another man. Except for her resentment. That one belongs rightfully to him.)

“Morning,” he says brightly.

The room falls quiet instantly, but he ignores it and saunters into the room, like nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. “Banana?” Rose asks and smiles at him. She really shouldn’t do that. It only makes him feel things he shouldn’t.

“Nah, thanks,” he declines. What right does he have to like bananas? Maybe bananas don’t want to be liked by a man like him. He’ll just have a pear instead. Those deserve no sympathy.

Rose’s kind eyes follow him when he walks around the dining table and picks up a pear. She’s concerned about him. She does care. That’s what she does, now. Make the best of a bad deal. *** “Oh, don’t tell me you’re drunk already,” Jackie tells him in the evening.

“Time Lords don’t get drunk,” he insists. A couple of her friends had come over earlier and then they’d opened a bottle of wine. The Doctor had also wanted a glass. Just to blend in, of course, and definitely not to wallow in self-pity. Time Lords don’t do that.

“Shame you aren’t one then,” Jackie says, “at least not completely.” Why is he even talking to her? Where is Rose?

He swirls around, or tries to, but the speed of it topples him over.

“You’re drunk,” Jackie accuses.

“It’s just this rubbish human coordination,” the Doctor says, “is what it is.”

Something of him is missing, he’s sure of it, though he can’t quite determine what it is. Maybe it’s his foot and that’s why he fell over. He slowly rights himself, but it’s surprisingly hard. (Possibly due to lack of foot.)

“Are you sure you can do this?” Jackie asks from very far away, probably a good few meters above him. “The slow life? The nine to five?” He manages to balance himself on two feet. Jackie is right in front of his face. Huh.

“I’m the Doctor,” the Doctor says confidently, “I can do anything.”

It’s a really bad moment to trip again, but evidently, his legs don’t care about that. Jackie holds out a hand for him, but there seem to be suddenly two of her.

“Zygon!” the Doctor yells. After blinking two times, there’s only one Jackie again. Still holding out her hand. “No, no, you’re not a zygon. Probably.” He waves his hand around dismissively and instead of grabbing Jackie’s, he leans back onto the porch, until his head hits the hard stone floor. “Don’t you worry about me,” the Doctor says. “I’ve got it aaaall under control.” Only that he doesn’t. Which is why he won’t be getting up again in the near future. It’s an important skill, that. To know when you’re beaten. He closes his eyes for a long moment and tries to swallow the bile rising in his throat. It’s bitter, all so bitter…

When he opens his eyes again, Rose is standing over him.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she says. But she’s smiling, always smiling. She’s far too nice to him. Cutting him slack.

“Well, it’s a nice floor.”

“Hope you’re not planning on sleeping here again. Believe it or not, but beds are actually more convenient for that.” “I would have to walk quite a way,” the Doctor says, feeling dizzy. “That’s not very convenient.”

“You’re right,” she answers and proceeds to lay down on the porch right next to him. They both look up at the stars. The not-quite-right stars. He would love nothing more than to get up close and personal with them to look for the differences. “Humans,” the Doctor says, like it’s something extraordinarily despicable, “they get goo in their eyes, did you know that? You wake up and there’s stuff in your eyes! How’s that practical?” “However will you cope?” She throws an arm over her forehead, like it’s a horrible tragedy. Which it is. She’s stuck her tongue between her teeth again, which he is absolutely certain she does only to torture him. Personally.

“I would watch a water tap drip for you, did you know that?” he asks quietly, looking back at the stars. They’re so untouchable, even though there’s not even a wall between them. Just space. Space upon space upon space. “I would sit here and watch a flower grow. If you asked me to.” “You’re drunk,” Rose says, which rings some sort of a bell.

“So they tell me.”

He wonders about whatever limb of his went missing. Something… Something went missing… But right now, right here, he’s not missing anything at all. “You make me feel whole,” he whispers. Even though she will forever be wishing he were someone else. “You make me feel whole…” It’s his last thought before he drifts off.

*** His head is pounding when consciousness drags him back by his lapels into miserable reality. He is in a bed, even though he distinctly remembers not falling asleep in one. It’s only when he’s half-way through brushing his teeth that he remembers what he said to Rose. That’s it. Alcohol is banned from this rubbish part human body. He never should have conducted that experiment in the first place. Now he’d gone and embarrassed himself in front of Rose. And told her things she really doesn’t want to hear.

He’ll stay here forever, he thinks while he is getting dressed, into borrowed clothes, and suddenly he is horrified. In this house, in this bathroom. This is it. There’s nothing more, there is nothing to discover, there is just day by day by miserable day.

He will drown in a sea of sameness. He will die within a small amount of years, within hours, within seconds. And Rose will miss him, only she won’t be missing him, but a man a universe away.

He stops with three buttons still undone and doesn’t bother putting on shoes. He rushes down the corridor, past Jackie, who yelps and nearly drops her hairdryer. He runs out the front door and he has nowhere to go, but it doesn’t matter because all he needs is to get away. He runs like he is chased by a Dalek or a Sontaran or a man in a uniform. Luckily, what is chasing him is very, very slow – slowness itself, in fact, but that’s only reason to go faster.

Rose will only ever love him for everything he isn’t, if at all. There is nothing else for him in this universe. He runs past houses, past people who have no problem living slowly, past trashcans and street lamps. Past cars adhering to speed limits.

He runs out of breath fast, much faster than he is used to, but that only spurs him on to run through the pain. He only slows down once he is far from the mansion. Suddenly he can see it – what he’s been looking for, for centuries, only seeing it through the eyes of his companions. The whole universe blaring at him. The crispness of fresh morning air burns through his lungs with every gasping breath he takes. A butterfly flutters by in a flash of blue. A woman walking her Golden Retriever. Dew glitters in the grass. And on the horizon shines the sunset, dunking the whole sky in orange and pink and yellow. He hasn’t watched a sunset in such a long time. After all, who needs to watch a sunset when you can visit a thousand suns? But it’s beautiful. He can see it all, how beautiful and precious this world is. This is why they are all here - to bear witness to it. This is why he is here.

It’s his world, now. All the world he gets.

Still catching his breath, he sinks against the nearest building and just watches. He must be watching for a long time, because when he takes his eyes off the sunset again, it’s to see Rose step out of a taxi.

For a moment, it looks like she’ll yell at him, which is fair enough, but when she sees him, her shoulders drop.

“Are you okay?” she asks instead of yelling. “I’m fine.” She gives him a look like she doesn’t believe a word. “Well, I wasn’t a minute ago,” the Doctor amends. “I might have… panicked again. A little bit.” “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” She sounds a little scared.

“About you?” He looks at her fondly. “Never.”

“Yeah, but staying in one place, you know, domestic. Is that what you want?” “That’s not what I was running from.” He takes a deep, bracing breath. He should be honest with her. “Me and you, living the slow life. I think I was running from… the prospect of not getting it.”

The thought that he would never have it, not with her by his side, is torturous.

“But we’re in this together now, isn’t that what we said? Why are you scared? You can have that.”

The corners of his mouth turn down with the pain of it. “Not really. Not in the way I want.”

Rose, in front of him, is in the same universe, but worlds away.

“Why not?” she asks gently.

“Because – because I’m not him. I’ll always be… your second choice. And no matter how happy I am, I’ll always remember that.” She looks at him with immeasurable sadness in her eyes, which is not what he wanted at all. He wants her to look at him the way she used to. He wants to see that spark in her eyes again. He should have pushed her away, when she had kissed him on the beach, so she could have run after the TARDIS. He shouldn’t have been so bloody weak.

“I’m sorry -” Sometimes he can’t stand her empathy, her stubborn kindness. “It’s not your fault,” he quickly interrupts. “It’s… fine. I just need some time.”

Some time to accept he’s not who he used to be. And that he can’t ask her to treat him the same. She looks at him and sees double – and he understands. He really does.

“No,” she says firmly, “I’m sorry I ever made you think… I made you feel this way. And you’re right, I can’t forget him. He’s… well, he’s you. It would be incredibly hard to love one without loving the other.”

It’s not that he minds that. It’s that, if the other Doctor came back, she would choose him. That’s the persistent and unbearable fact in the back of his mind.

“But you can’t,” he chokes out, even though he doesn’t mean to.

She tilts her head.

“Love me,” he adds.

“Why would you say that?” She seems heartbroken over him. This might be the worst part. His whole existence is breaking her heart.

“It’s what you said, you said…” He’s becoming a little uncertain now. “I heard you.” In fact, those words won’t stop ringing in his ear. “You said you could never love anyone but the Doctor.” Rose steps toward him carefully and reaches for his hand. Stop touching me, I can’t take it, stop being so bloody kind -

“And you are the Doctor, stupid,” she says.

“Oh,” he says softly, then, “Ohhh.”

That puts a different spin on things. Not just things, everything really. And everything is spinning, a little, except for her face. He doesn’t care. He is the Doctor and she loves the Doctor. It’s mad. It’s completely non-sensical.

“Only you,” she chastises. Then her voice becomes heavy with emotion. “I couldn’t accept it at first, because I was being stupid. But… you stayed for me. Of course I love you.”

The world is spinning. He needs something to hold on to. He grabs her hand and it’s the one thing steady in this whole universe. Entirely against his will, a tear rolls down his cheek and then another one.

“What -” He stops and gathers his breath. “What’s that? Why am I crying?”

“It’s a human thing,” she whispers very close to his face, “it means that you’re happy.” She puts one hand on his cheek and one over his ear and then she presses her lips to his. She kisses him just like she did on the beach, but this time it’s not a spur of the moment decision with disastrous consequences. This time it’s full of promise. He wonders if she can taste his tears in her mouth.

It means that you’re happy.

Astonished, the Doctor looks inside himself, into a place he’d thought empty, and finds that she’s right. He really is.

#doctor who #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #metacrisis doctor #tentoo x rose #doctor who fanfic #rose tyler #the tenth doctor

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douglaskimberly94 · 4 years

Text

How Can Separation Save A Marriage Best Useful Tips

Since his illness, we have some problems can be a happy one, or if his friends had sounded the alarm when they are spending less time with her.But if conflicts have their own unique solutions.Since marriage is in crisis need to allow things to escalate to that extent, unless you can work together with burning desire for revenge will be able to withstand the wild and wooly years of experience in marriage between two people who will give you a stronger bond with you.Use all of these marriage pressures can itself be a good reason why you can easily transform your arguments start becoming too frequent, you may need the intervention of a car is usually limited.

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How To Stop Divorce In Islam

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Save My Relationship With My Boyfriend

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#How Can Separation Save A Marriage Best Useful Tips #Prevent Divorce Before Marriage

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transcerat0ps · 7 years

Text

Courfeyrac had let Marius break his heart anyway

hey so I spontaneously wrote an angsty barricade day courfius fic because I was gonna write something better in advance but i forgot so??? have this

It was curious, Courfeyrac thought, how someone as perpetually awkward as Marius suddenly found himself at the centre of this rapid storm of action. All the possibilities of what could pass in the next few moments narrowed down to a single young man who had the attention of all those gathered on either side of the barricade.

“Be off with you, or I’ll blow up the barricade!” It was a tone of voice Courfeyrac had only heard glimpses of before; he was confident, single minded, and he couldn’t take his eyes off him. It was almost unbelievable that this was the same bleary-eyed man who had woken in his room a few hours before the funeral, which seemed as though it might as well have been a lifetime ago now. A selfish part of him was so incredibly glad to see him, to know that in the end Marius had chosen them- chosen Courfeyrac- over everything else. He chased that thought away as best he could, though the alternative was the ache of fearing another of his friends might be lost in this place.

Though Marius didn’t seem to be too bothered by his possible fate. He had stepped into harm’s way without looking back. Courfeyrac looked over to Enjolras, who was staring intently up at Marius, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Blow up the barricade!” A voice called out from the other side, “and yourself with it!”

Marius barely reacted, his expression unshaken, his grip no less strong. “And myself with it,” he said calmly. Courfeyrac felt himself move a little, his hands shifting to reach him, either to pull him away or to stand beside him. He was a damned fool, distracted so easily by his heart.

A few moments passed. No one moved. Courfeyrac’s eyes were on Marius’ hands, which until just a few minutes ago had never done anything more than carefully turn the pages of books and fill other pages with his own writing. Sometimes he thought he might know Marius’ hands better than he knew his own, but he never imagined he’d see them holding so much uncertainty and danger. His torch dropped, perhaps only by an inch, but enough for Courfeyrac’s heart to plummet into his stomach.

Then a swift bustle of movement as the soldiers retreated. His friends beside him let out a collective sigh of relief. Marius stepped down, shaky now. Someone took the torch and barrel from him, and Courfeyrac pulled his friend towards him, embracing him warmly, and maybe he was trembling too but hadn’t realized until Marius’ hand on the back of his head steadied him.

“How lucky that you’re here!” Corfeyrac said, pulling away but still gripping Marius by his shoulders, as the rest of his friends swarmed around them. He remembered the man who would have killed him just a few minutes ago, if he had not been brought down by a figure he had caught just a glimpse of. “I would have died- if it weren’t for you.” Conversation buzzed around them, the tension broken as they allowed themselves a moment of celebration, but Courfeyrac’s mind was whirling.

“I should talk with you,” he said, leaning close and realizing he had not loosened his hold on him yet. Marius nodded, and allowed Courfeyrac to lead them to a quieter spot, though it was hard to find privacy in a place like this. “What made you change your mind? I thought you weren’t coming.” He hadn’t meant for his words to be an interrogation, but he wasn’t sure what else he had wanted to say, hadn’t planned this far. He had tried to write a letter, something to leave in his apartment in case Marius ever went back there, but the words had dried up. Love confessions were usually easy, he’d mastered the art in his youth, yet this time he could find nothing to say; his emotions were too confused, too tangled with bitterness and the weeks where he was sure he felt nothing, only to find Marius at his door again, and his heart would realize that it had never been anything but certain that he never wanted to lose him.

“She’s gone,” Marius said, his voice hollow. “I have nothing- I am nothing- without her.”

Of course, Courfeyrac though, it would never have been about him. Jealousy and sympathy warred through his blood, and he paused, asking himself for the hundredth time why he wasted so much of his heart on Marius. But when Marius collapsed to the floor, raising his eyes to Courfeyrac as though he was expecting to find answers there, all Courfeyrac could do was kneel beside him, and take his hand in both of his.

“You have been a good friend to me,” Marius said, looking down at their joined hands, “Better than I deserve, I think.”

Courfeyrac sighed. What was there to lose now? Marius seemed intent on dying, Courfeyrac had nearly lost his life already, even if they walked away from this, they would be irreversibly changed. “And you deserve a friend whose intentions were a little less selfish than mine. I think we’re even.” Perhaps it was genuine charity in the beginning that offered Marius a place to stay, but soon it was the happiness that grew from living, breathing in the same space, the nights when it was cold and Marius seemed to be content only when they were lying close enough to be mistaken for one person, and it was the way Marius looked so surprised when he was complimented, and that every so often something would shift and Courfeyrac would have a moment of hoping that this maybe could be something, before Marius would lose himself in thoughts of Cosette again.

And it was this, Marius parting his lips in a moment of surprise, confusion, having never considered that their friendship was anything other than simple and uncomplicated. “I don’t believe you could ever be selfish,” he said after a few seconds, smiling fondly, trusting completely. There were some things Marius could analyze and overthink and convince himself were filled with a hundred different interpretations, but Courfeyrac had never been one of them. How refreshing it would be, to not be constantly questioning what it was that they had between them, to just accept it as it was.

Somewhere, Combeferre was calling for him. A rush of fear, anticipation, excitement, surged through him all at once. So much planning, and now it was spinning past them, it was disorientating, and despite the danger Courfeyrac couldn’t resent anything that brought him here. This was the city he loved, the people he’d wanted to help for so long, and he’d always known that they would not be saved with one battle, that it would be one hard, slow step at a time. It wasn’t a disaster if he was only part of the laborious road to freedom. He had always suspected his friends burned too brightly to make it much further, but it had been a long time since he had sought only individual fame, and was content to be a cog in the great struggle for liberty.

All he regretted now was that suddenly his life was moving all too fast, maybe towards its end, and still Marius was sitting before him, not quite understanding. Or maybe he did understand, maybe he always had, but how could they talk of it here? The years of his life were falling away, and opportunities to either move on or find out whether he ever had a chance, were quickly being lost.

“I thought of leaving behind a letter,” Courfeyrac admitted, watching Marius’ expression carefully, regretting all the times he had looked away, “I hoped you might find it- that you might understand… But I couldn’t think of what to say. It doesn’t matter now. You’re no more likely to make it home than I am.”

Marius frowned. “Understand what?”

Gently, Courfeyrac lifted one of his hands from Marius’, and brushed his thumb over the scattering of freckles across his cheek. His gaze fell to Marius’ lips despite his best intentions. Bahorel had warned that this was nothing more than a fleeting fondness, to let it go before it left him with only pain, that there was nothing substantial about it. Perhaps he was right. Courfeyrac had let Marius break his heart anyway.

He leaned his head forwards so that his forehead rested against Marius’. He closed his eyes, and his breath trembled. “I don’t know,” he said. He let out a pained laugh. “If only I were Prouvaire, then I would have composed a sonnet for you.” Marius didn’t reply, but he squeezed his hand. A moment later, he moved away, and a foreign, broken noise left Courfeyrac’s lips. But he had not moved far, and before Ccourfeyrac found the courage to open his eyes, Marius pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Courfeyrac clung to him, fingers tight in his hair, and to his surprise felt tears spill down his face.

Perhaps it was no more than a fond farewell to a friend, a kindness to repay the weeks when Courfeyrac had not pressured him for the rent, and maybe it was more. His questions were brought to a halt when someone called his name again, and the calm was broken. He had only the time to rest his hand on Marius’ shoulder for a moment as he stood and left to rejoin the battle.

#les miserables #les amis de l'abc #courfius #barricade day #courfeyrac #marius #marius pontmercy #my writing #les mis #les amis #this was written in one sitting and has not been heavily edited pls be nice

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jennycalendar · 7 years

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Imperfections (4/?)

i’m honestly so happy...things are really starting to come together with this fic

it’s also on ao3!

“What you must realize, Buffy, is that you and Faith have very different temperaments,” Rupert said, taking a sip from his mug of tea as the three of them walked through the halls.

Jenny agreed. According to Buffy, Faith had gone somewhat overboard on a vampire, beating it to a pulp while Buffy was struggling with two vampires of her own. It seemed to reaffirm what Jenny had seen of Faith, who did seem almost purposefully casual. If what Buffy was saying was true, Faith was about as clear-cut and uncomplicated as Jenny had immediately anticipated, which made her quite different from her co-Slayer. Jenny had always been able to get a general read of Buffy’s thoughts and feelings, but she was beginning to suspect that Faith was less easy to understand.

“Yeah, and mine's the sane one,” Buffy replied a bit sharply.

“Hey,” said Jenny carefully. “We barely know Faith. Let’s not pass judgments just yet.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d watched her whaling on that vamp,” Buffy objected. “The girl's not playing with a full deck, Ms. Calendar. She has almost no deck.” She paused, considering. “She has a three.”

“You said yourself that she killed one,” Rupert pointed out. “She's just a plucky fighter who got a little carried away, which is natural. She's focused on the slaying.”

“She doesn’t exactly have a life here to fall back on,” Jenny added.

“She doesn't need a life,” said Buffy irritably. “She has mine.”

“I think you're being a little...” Rupert trailed off.

“No, I'm being a lot,” Buffy agreed reluctantly. “I know that. But she nearly got us both killed. The girl needs help.”

“Rupert, you think you can call her Watcher at the retreat?” Jenny inquired, trying to keep her face straight.

Rupert nodded. “I believe so,” he agreed, checking his watch. “They're eight hours ahead now. Probably sitting down to a nightcap.” Buffy kept walking. Jenny, who had been through this a good five times over the last two hours, stopped and waited. “I wonder if they still kayak,” he continued wistfully. “I used to love a good kayak.”

Buffy stopped, looking over her shoulder with some exasperation. “How do you date him?” she inquired of Jenny.

“Babe,” said Jenny patiently.

“I’m sorry?” said Rupert, flushing a pleased shade of pink. “Did you just call me—” Jenny jerked her head towards Buffy, who was giving them both an exasperated look. “Ah,” he said, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Sorry. I digress.” He moved up, falling into step with Buffy. “The vampires that attacked you, can you furnish me with some details that might help me trace their lineage? I mean, ancient or modern dress. Amulets, cultish tattoos...”

Jenny gave Rupert a quick smile, quietly exiting the conversation. Rupert and Buffy had Slayer-Watcher things to discuss, and it wasn’t something she specifically needed to be there for. Plus, there was someone she wanted to check in with before the next class started.

Willow was cheerfully filing Jenny’s now-graded assignments and whistling something that Jenny was pretty sure was from a Disney movie. Jenny leaned against the door, watching her with a strange, wonderful feeling in her chest. Willow had been determinedly, exhaustedly happy over the summer, as though she was afraid of what might happen were she anything but. This was clear and natural, and the smile on her face was easy.

“You’re looking chipper,” Jenny said lightly, not yet ready to let on how proud she felt at that.

Willow jumped, then turned to her with a grin that was somehow even brighter. “Hi, Ms. Calendar!” she said. “Did I tell you that Xander passed that math test? He says it’s mostly thanks to you. I think maybe he cheated off Cordelia a little. But still! Mostly thanks to you is still a lot. Also definitely don’t tell anyone he cheated.”

Jenny mimed zipping her lips as she stepped all the way into the classroom. “I wanted to thank you for doing all the heavy lifting lately,” she said, and meant it. “I’m still getting used to having my hands all the way back again.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” said Willow cheerfully. “Anything for my favorite Ms. Calendar.” She crossed the classroom to give Jenny a hug. Jenny was always taken aback by how easily Willow showed affection, but she liked to think that she was getting used to it. “How are you? Do you have any coffee?”

“Wow, you really do know me, don’t you?” said Jenny with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “I grabbed a cup in the staff room.”

“Do you want another cup?” said Willow a little hesitantly, and produced a cup of coffee from behind her back.

“Willow!” said Jenny with genuine delight, and took the mug, taking a long sip. Willow had put way too much cream and sugar in, and Jenny could tell that it wasn’t strong enough, but it made her think of Willow fussing in the staff room until she came up with a concoction she deemed completely suitable. Jenny felt warmed and happy. “Thank you so much,” she said.

“Of course,” said Willow emphatically. “Can I hang around in here? It’s my free.”

“Sure, but you have to do homework this time around,” Jenny replied, taking another sip of coffee. “As much as I love you helping out, I think you could use some study time.”

Willow’s gaze darted briefly over to the magic books on Jenny’s desk. “If you’re talking study time,” she began hesitantly.

Jenny considered this. Withholding knowledge from Willow or implying that things were too advanced for her would really just make dangerous stuff more appealing. She felt glad that the books on the desk were ones she’d been intending to discuss with Willow anyway. “Pick up the one with the blue cover and read up to chapter two,” she instructed with a slight smile.

Willow beamed at her and headed over to pick up the book. “Hi, Giles!” she added.

Jenny looked up at Rupert, who looked a little nervous and pale. “You okay?” she added with some worry, crossing the room to take his hands in hers.

“Faith’s Watcher is dead,” Rupert informed her immediately. Jenny might have dropped Rupert’s hands had he not been holding on so tightly. “Has been for a good period of time, apparently. I’ve asked Buffy to talk to Faith tonight, but from what I’ve heard from the Council, the Watcher was killed in front of Faith and they haven’t heard anything from or of Faith since. They were actually quite shocked to know she was still alive.”

Jenny thought of Faith and that casually guarded smile, and suddenly understood why she’d immediately liked Faith so much. Like recognizing like, maybe. “God,” she said quietly. “Do we know anything about what killed the Watcher?”

“More of a who, I’m afraid,” Rupert replied tensely. “Kakistos. And I expect he’s been after Faith as well, seeing as she came all the way here.”

“She was looking for a Slayer,” said Jenny softly. “For help.”

“I don’t know if—”

“I’m going to go over to the motel,” said Jenny. “I know you’ve sent Buffy, but I think in this situation some adult guidance would probably be a good thing. Especially if it’s a traumatized teenage girl we’re dealing with.”

“I wouldn’t call her traumatized,” said Rupert tentatively. “We—we don’t know the full story, a-and she really does seem to have a handle on the situation—”

“Believe me, Rupert, I know what having a handle on a situation is, because it’s something I’ve been striving for constantly.” Jenny picked up her purse from the table, placing down her mug. “Sorry, Willow. Can you tell Snyder some important family business came up? If he asks, say—I don’t know. Say my cousin got hit by a car.”

“Okay,” said Willow uncertainly, “but Ms. Calendar, I’m not sure if it’s the best idea for you to go after a vampire by yourself, even if it’s not likely that he’ll be there.”

“Oh, I’ve done that before,” said Jenny without thinking.

“I’m sorry?” said Rupert with alarm.

“Um,” said Jenny. “With—a crossbow. And broken fingers. To check up on Acathla. You weren’t there and it’s a long story and I’m fine now so it’s all good and we really need to check up on Faith okay? Okay. Love you.” She kissed Rupert quickly before darting around them both in an attempt to get to the door.

Rupert caught her arm. His grip was light, but it did still stop Jenny. “I’m not sure if this is the safest choice to make,” he said carefully.

“Look, Buffy isn’t qualified to deal with the mental health of someone who watched their mentor figure get brutally murdered in front of them,” said Jenny firmly. “And the more time we spend arguing, the more time Kakistos has to get to Faith.” Then she realized what was really bothering Rupert, and added more carefully, “Rupert, I’m not saying you can’t come with me.”

Rupert’s face relaxed slightly at that. “I just—didn’t want you going alone and without any weaponry,” he said, “and you seemed quite ready to flee the school without any plans in mind.”

“So grab some weapons,” said Jenny. “We’re gonna go talk to Faith.”

As it turned out, the talking-to-Faith thing was a disaster before it even started, because Rupert’s car was still a mess from that time he’d lost the keys and the zombies had attacked it, so it took five minutes to get the engine started, ten minutes to try and get it out of the parking lot and ten more for them to decide just to use Jenny’s car. By the time they got to the motel, it was sunset, and they were both arguing fiercely.

“—it wouldn’t kill you to get a new car! It could actually be, I don’t know, a good thing.”

“My Citroen is perfectly respectable!”

“Yeah, especially the glass shards in the seats left over from the zombie attack. It’s a fucking adventure just to sit down in those ever-so-respectable seats.”

“It runs well, and that’s what counts.”

“If it ran well, we wouldn’t be in my car right now!”

Rupert huffed and crossed his arms, glowering at the road in front of them. “I like my car,” he said finally.

“From a Watcher standpoint, you still need a new one,” said Jenny somewhat unsympathetically. “And we’re—shit.” She stopped the car abruptly, barely even registering the screech of the brakes. A group of burly men were walking up the motel stairs, and one of them had cloven hooves. “Shit, shit, shit.”

She felt Rupert’s gaze on her. “Should we try and ambush them?” he asked worriedly. “Are the girls in there?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Jenny replied with worry. “On both accounts. They could easily take us both down without breaking a sweat. I should have brought the holy water.”

“It’s in my car,” said Rupert with some smugness. Jenny turned around and gave him a very angry look. “Right,” he said. “Sorry. Certainly not the appropriate time for this.”

“Wow. Who’d have possibly guessed that?” said Jenny, glaring at him.

Rupert gave her a sweetly apologetic look, which irritated Jenny, because it was really, really easy to forgive him even when he was being a dick. But if they were about to go off on what could probably be a suicide mission, she didn’t want to die mad at him, so she stopped glaring. “I’m going to be really pissed when we get back,” she informed him.

“I know,” said Rupert, and gave her a sideways smile.

The vampires broke through the door. Jenny grabbed for her cross and stake and pushed the car door roughly open, heading for the motel at a run, but the vampires didn’t even turn to notice her. By the time she’d gotten up the stairs, the motel room was a wreck, and there was no one to be found.

“They must have gone through the window,” said Jenny, voice shaking. She reached behind her for Rupert’s hand, their argument forgotten. “We—I don’t want us to split up.”

Rupert looked at her with soft, starry eyes, and said, “I find it quite remarkable how brave you are, Ms. Calendar.”

Just like that, Jenny wasn’t mad at him anymore, because damn if he knew the right thing to say to her to make her feel like she could chase down some vampires. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, and it felt so much more intimate than any forgiving kiss. “We don’t have time to get mushy,” she said, even though she was still smiling in a suitably mushy fashion. “We’ve gotta help Faith and Buffy.”

“Of course,” Rupert agreed, and helped her through the broken glass of the motel window.

#fic #imperfections #i'm really excited about where this fic is going

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njawaidofficial · 6 years

Text

Gigi And Zayn Were The Power Couple I Needed To See When I Was Growing Up

https://styleveryday.com/2018/03/15/gigi-and-zayn-were-the-power-couple-i-needed-to-see-when-i-was-growing-up/

Gigi And Zayn Were The Power Couple I Needed To See When I Was Growing Up

Zayn Malik and Gigi Hadid attend the Costume Institute Gala at the Metropolitan Museum of Art on May 2, 2016, in New York City.

Mike Coppola / Getty Images

I was a little too excited when Zayn Malik and Gigi Hadid first began dating, way, way back in 2015. That was the year Gigi’s modeling career exploded, as she showed up in the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show and Taylor Swift’s “Bad Blood” music video. Zayn was in the process of launching his solo career after a dramatic break with One Direction. A romance between two beautiful, successful celebrities isn’t exactly earth-shaking news, and Zayn and Gigi didn’t do anything especially interesting together: They posed in fashion shoots, walked the red carpet together, wore a couples costume for Halloween, and, of course, documented all of it on Instagram.

But what did matter to me is what also fascinated me about them separately: They both have Muslim heritage and are outspoken about how their backgrounds have shaped them. And seeing this desi-Arab-Muslim power couple together, in the pages of the same magazines I had flipped through as a celebrity-obsessed, boy band–loving, Palestinian, Muslim, American teen — looking for Muslim and Arab faces, and finding none — felt like something I had been waiting a long time for.

This week, the couple announced their split after more than two years together, and the breakup was as relatively drama-free as their relationship appeared to be. Zayn described Gigi as an “incredible soul”; in her own statement, Gigi said she was “forever grateful for the love, time, and life lessons.” There was some minor drama over Zayn unfollowing Gigi and her mother, Yolanda Hadid, on Instagram — and the matter of a months-old tattoo of Gigi’s eyes across Zayn’s chest — but as far as celebrity breakups go, this seemed, at least publicly, to be pretty unremarkable.

I wasn’t really heartbroken over the breakup of Gigi and Zayn, the actual people, as much as I was at the end of the idea of their relationship.

I had been so wrapped up in Tuesday morning news that I was genuinely stunned when another editor at work asked if we’d be covering the story, which I’d heard nothing about. And then I was suddenly sad, and then I was mostly embarrassed about being a 31-year-old woman who was this sad about the end of a relationship I wasn’t even in. But I wasn’t really heartbroken over the breakup of Gigi and Zayn, the actual people, as much as I was at the end of the idea of their relationship, and what it had represented to me. They had been so unusual as a fantasy canvas to project the real Muslim romances I’d grown up watching onto: Zayn and Gigi were the couple that sat too close at Muslim Student Association meetings; they were the desi and Arab pair kept apart by cultural differences; the teenagers ducking into cars together when they’ve told their parents they’ve gone to the mosque. Their celebrity realities were miles away from any of ours, but they had backgrounds that made them blank slates for our versions of sweet, unremarkable, all-American stories.

Coverage of Gigi and Zayn, together or separately, meant seeing things like Eid al-Adha — a major Muslim holiday — casually mentioned in publications like People and E! Online after they marked it by taking a selfie with their mothers. Eid al-Adha was a regular part of the United States I grew up in, a day when my family spent time together, exchanged presents, bought new clothes, and ate way too much, and now, it’s also when we post smiling selfies to social media. To see these celebrities doing the same, and to see a note about the holiday in the media coverage of them — free of any offensive, hand-wringing debate over whether or not there are too many Muslims in the US — still feels remarkable.

Instagram: @yolanda

As a child and throughout my teens, I struggled to find myself reflected in the pop culture around me. Even though I was in elementary school, my dad would turn off my cartoons and watch coverage of the Gulf War with me, and the news seemed to be the only place where I would see Arabs and Muslims. Most of my favorite TV shows, like Full House, Rugrats, and later Dawson’s Creek and Friends, featured mainly white characters — which helped form the idea that uncomplicated lives were not written for people like me. I was so hungry for representation that when Aladdin came out in 1992, the movie — even as a racist mashup of generally Eastern cultures — was revolutionary for me. It was my first time seeing fun, popular characters even remotely representative of my family’s culture; I became so obsessed that I tried to convince my parents to rename me Yasmine.

But after Aladdin, it was a long, empty road for Muslim representation in the mainstream, especially after 9/11. And I just accepted that I would never fully relate to the white heroines in my favorite books — Little Women, the Sweet Valley High series, the Baby-Sitters Club series, The Princess Diaries. A few years ago, I spoke to one of my high school’s librarians and asked him why we never had many books by Arab or Muslim authors. He told me that we never asked for them. It was strange to think that the weight would have been placed on me — a child — to ask for stories that would speak to me. After all, how many white, Christian teenagers have to actually ask librarians for books written about characters who look like them? But everything around me taught me that stories about girls like me simply did not exist. An awkward, opinionated Muslim girl would not roam Bayside High’s halls, nor would she ever serve as Dawson Leary’s out-of-reach love interest.

Me dressed up for Eid, with my Jasmine doll on the table.

courtesy of Sara Yasin

That applied to the heartthrobs I fantasized about, too: I was obsessed with boy bands as a teen. While I was mostly loyal to NSYNC, I was easily wooed by any group of young men with coordinated outfits and dance moves. These young men I dreamed about were carefully constructed to cater to my desires as a teenage girl — and most of them were white. I fantasized about the Justin Timberlakes and Brian Littrells of the world, and would always attempt to stamp out the tiny voice that wondered how they might feel about a fan who was Muslim.

By the time One Direction had become the biggest boy band in the world, I felt too old to be obsessed with them in the same way. But I still found joy in listening to their songs, and it had a lot to do with Zayn. He wasn’t necessarily vocal about his Muslim and Pakistani roots while he was in One Direction, but I didn’t love the real Zayn so much as I loved what he could have been to me, back when I was a teenager: the halal crush that I could dream of introducing to my parents, that would have made me feel like my heritage and my world were as commonplace as anyone else’s. There was something incredible about seeing a Muslim man not only become famous but become a sex symbol — seeing a Muslim name like “Zayn Malik” on a thirsty, hot-pink poster sold to teenage girls, rather than on a terror alert.

While Gigi also has a Muslim father, what drew me to her is the fact that she’s Palestinian — and vocal about how proud she is of her background. I first came across her in 2014, when I noticed a photo shoot she did paying tribute to Anna Wintour’s first Vogue cover as editor-in-chief, in 1988, which featured Israeli model Michaela Bercu. Some wondered if Vogue was making a (quiet) political statement about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict by featuring Gigi years later, especially since the photos came soon after the last deadly war in Gaza.

Vogue breezily referenced Gigi’s heritage, and in many ways, that’s Gigi’s approach too: She doesn’t explain or justify the fact that she’s Palestinian; it’s just a part of who she is. When she won Glamour’s “Woman of the Year” award last year, she referred to her father as a “refugee from Palestine” in her acceptance speech. Mohamed Hadid is vocal about the conflict, as well as his heritage. Both Gigi and her sister, Bella, also a model, have spoken about how their father’s background has shaped them, and last year, the sisters joined a protest against Trump’s controversial travel ban.

Gigi Hadid wears a keffiyeh-patterned jacket at a 2014 Chanel event in New York City.

Stefanie Keenan / Getty Images

You could argue that Gigi’s outspokenness is made much easier by the fact that, for the most part, she gets to decide when she wants to remind you that she’s a Palestinian — a luxury that her ex does not have. Zayn faced racism even in the days when he wasn’t as vocal about being Muslim or Pakistani, whether that was from anti-Muslim pundits like Debbie Schlussel warning that he was “pimping” Islam to young girls, or Bill Maher making a joke comparing him to one of the Boston marathon bombers.

Hadid has slammed anti-Muslim bigotry, but she has also made some big stumbles herself, like a video from 2017 showing her mocking Asians on her sister’s Instagram story. But even that is part of what’s so familiar about her to me; missteps like this were commonplace in my own Muslim community, where people had blinders on when it came to addressing inequalities that weren’t their own.

Of course, Gigi and Zayn’s ability to move with an ease that isn’t afforded to others with similar heritage is mostly a testament to the privilege that comes with fame, beauty, and wealth, rather than any huge symbol of progress. Desi-Arab-Muslim power couples aren’t going to unravel the prejudices that these groups have faced in the US — that will probably have a lot more to do with accepting that what it means to be an American is a diverse, ever-changing thing. Not long ago, I was waxing poetic about the Hadids while visiting a relative, and the significance of their visibility as Palestinian-Americans, and she sighed and asked when she would be accepted as an American as she is: a devout, hijab-wearing Muslim immigrant.

Gigi Hadid (center) with, from left, her sister Bella, mother Yolanda, father Mohamed, and his fiancé, Shiva Safai, at a party in Paris in 2016.

Dimitrios Kambouris / Getty Images

I always say that I grew up in Disneyland Palestine: a suburban, North Carolina street dotted with relatives and other Palestinian immigrant families who came together to re-create a version of their homeland for their American children. Being Palestinian was about having way too many cousins, an infuriating surveillance network of nosy aunties, dancing to corny music videos that came on our Arabic satellite television stations, and, of course, eating typically Palestinian meals like musakhan — huge, soft wheels of bread doused in olive oil, topped with sumac, roasted pine nuts, fried onions, and chicken. For me, particularly as a child, my parents’ Palestinian heritage was about all of these things, just as much as it was about knowing our histories and, of course, understanding the conflict with Israel.

But in the US, being Palestinian is rarely viewed outside of the lense of that conflict. And while it is deeply intertwined with being a Palestinian, particularly in a situation that is ongoing and ever-deteriorating, viewing us through that alone has helped dehumanize us entirely. We can never just live, and that’s what the Hadids do: They’re public, Palestinian figures who lead splashy, “ordinary” Hollywood lives. And seeing a family with roots similar to my own become the fodder for ordinary, superficial celebrity gossip coverage — seeing their daughter, who just happens to be a supermodel, date a British and Pakistani boy, who just happens to be a pop star — was remarkable in its own completely unremarkable way. In a country where it’s a reasonable thing for a politician to suggest that Palestinians don’t even exist, that visibility matters.

While Gigi and Zayn’s split doesn’t make them less meaningful, in terms of what they represent, it does mean an end to a Hollywood romance that seemed to be written just for me. More than two years is a long time for celebrities, and of course, Just Like Us: They Grow Apart! I am still a little sad, but I’m realizing that there was a kind of joy in watching a romance — that just happened to involve two Muslim celebrities — blossom, and then fade out, like any other. ●

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ruthlessbookfish · 7 years

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Blurred Red Lines by Cora Kenborn

April 4

My Review

Eden is a bad ass. There were some really sad moments in Blurred Red Lines but, Cora Kenborn did an amazing job in keeping the story action driven. Val’s world is rapidly spiraling out of control, snatching people up like a tornado into the chaos. When it finally pulls in Eden, she becomes his calm in the sea of pain and betrayal. As much as they have reasons not to be together. I loved their relationship. I loved the passion they felt towards one another.

* I voluntarily read an advanced reader’s copy of this book*

Title: Blurred Red Lines

Series: Carrera Cartel #1

Author: Cora Kenborn

Genre: Romantic Suspense

Release Date: April 4, 2017

Blurb

Sometimes, there’s nothing more deadly than sleeping with the enemy.

Eden

Meaningless flings, a steady stream of alcohol, and two dead-end jobs fill my days until my world flips upside down. In the wrong place at the wrong time, I witness a botched cartel hit, and my life is forever altered. With nothing left to lose and motivated by revenge, I vow to make those responsible always remember what I’ll never be able to forget. Then I’m kidnapped, and before I know what’s happening, I’m thrust into a long-standing cartel war as some sick consolation prize. I’ll make it out of here, and when I do, everyone from the top drug lord to the bottom-feeding trigger man will fall.

That is if I can stop myself from falling first. For him. The one I should hate myself for wanting. He’s the one that holds me prisoner, but it’s me who refuses to leave.

Valentin

My name is whispered in fear because of the ruthless reputation I’ve built for myself. Being the heir to the Carrera Cartel comes with its perks, but I’m determined to defy my legacy and do things my way. A prisoner with a temper as fiery as her hair and a rival cartel are the only things standing between me and complete domination. Murder is business in my world, but when an innocent man’s death puts a witness on my radar and in my basement, I try to convince myself I’m keeping her safe to discover her secrets. It’s a lie. I want her, and with my enemies closing in, I need her now more than ever.

This dangerous attraction between us risks both my empire and our lives. I’ve spent my life in a solitude of my own choosing, but now that I have Eden beside me, I won’t let her go. If we burn…we burn together.

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Excerpt

VAL

Returning my attention to the bar, I strained to hear her conversation with the random drunks gawking at her. Loud Mariachi music blaring in the background and annoying yells of over exuberant patrons made eavesdropping almost impossible. Trying to act bored as hell, I slipped into a seat at the end of the bar and leaned forward. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” Tilting her chin in my direction, she kept her focus on the sugary frozen concoction she created. Puckering her red lips, she blew a piece of hair out of her face that escaped the sloppy bun on top of her head. A sloppy, candy red bun to match candy red lips. The kind of lips that could tell a man any lie they wanted and he’d gladly buy any shit they sold for just a taste. My dick twitched, reminding me it’d been a few days since I’d gotten laid. It didn’t help matters Emilio found it amusing to dress the bartenders in the tiniest denim shorts he could find, with black tank tops drawn across their chests so tight that the Caliente logo disappeared under their arms. Well played, Emilio. I’d never been one to chase women. I didn’t have to. They fell at my feet, crawled in my bed, and blew my phone up with calls and texts I never returned. But I found myself intrigued and unable to turn away as I watched Emilio’s new bartender flip through her texts, frown, and bite her lip, smearing the bright red lipstick that still had my pants in an uproar. I watched her eyes glaze over as she muttered something under her breath and stared at the liquor bottles in front of her. With a long, drawn out sigh, she snuck a sweeping glance around the bar. Immediately, I dropped my eyes down to my phone, suddenly engrossed in a blank screen. Do it. Be bad. Satisfied no one watched, she bent down and pretended to tie her shoe, taking a bottle of vodka with her to the floor. Tucked safely underneath the sink, I shifted over the bar to get a better view of the show as she reached up with a slim, milky white arm and snagged a glass. Pouring two large shots, she downed them successively, grimacing at the eighty-proof burn. Well, damn. She just became much more interesting to me. I arched an eyebrow and fought a smile. “Bad day?” “Bad life,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes and licking the remaining cheap vodka off her lips. Screwing the cap back on, she pushed off her heels and slipped the bottle back onto the counter. “I would’ve gone for the Grey Goose myself. Drinking that shit is just asking for the day to get worse.” I should’ve stopped talking. I considered small talk to be a waste of time. She dragged the back of her hand across her mouth. “I don’t remember asking your opinion.” “Can I get a gin and tonic, please?” A man two seats down from me wore a pissed off impatient look I didn’t care for and waved a credit card in her face. My jaw ticked, but before I could put him in his place, pale blue eyes that could start a war pinned him to his seat. “Here,” she drawled in a marked Southern accent as she threw a basket of chips on the bar. “Fill your mouth so shit stops coming out of it. I’ll get to you in a minute.” Normally, that’d be cause for termination, but she amused the hell out of me. I couldn’t stand weak women, and this girl had enough fire for a room full of them. Plus, the asshole had it coming. I began to understand why Emilio spent so many nights at the cantina. Catching my eye, a wicked smirk lifted the corners of her mouth as she placed her forearms on the bar and leaned in close enough for me to catch the scent of citrus and vanilla. It was a bizarre combination that lit a heated trail straight from my nose to my cock. “So, what is it you want?” You. Naked and spread out on this bar. “I doubt you could handle it.” I refused to blink, holding her stare, making sure she understood the double entendre. I wanted to push her to see how she’d react, but honestly, I knew the answer to both meanings. Nobody had been worth a fuck yet. I didn’t see why this would be any different. My challenge seemed to piss her off and invigorate her at the same time. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Haven’t had any complaints yet.” Spreading her fingers wide on both hands, she slid her arms out and narrowed her eyes. “Give me your best shot.” I’d give you my worst. I’d wreck you and leave you broken. “Añejo tequila. Straight shot, in a stem glass—not a highball—room temp.” With her bizarre, intoxicating scent still fucking with my head, I realized she was knocking me off my game. I didn’t like it. So, being the ass I was, and remembering Emilio’s tendencies toward cheapness, I leaned in as well and towered over her. “And if it hasn’t aged at least three years, shove it up the owner’s ass.” She brushed that damn stray hair out of her eye again and winked. “I’ll do my best.” Swinging her hips all over the bar, she glanced my way a few times, making a big production of bending over unnecessarily to pick shit off the floor. More than once, I made silent deals with my cock to find it some uncomplicated pussy, if it’d calm the fuck down and stop trying to get a look at her ass too. Before it could agree, a stem glass appeared under my nose just as I requested. That’s a first. Raising a questioning eye up at her, she smirked and nodded to the drink. “Well? Are you going to drink that or wait until Jesus turns it back into water?” A full-chested laugh I barely recognized came from my mouth as I reached for the glass. “I think that was wine.” She shrugged and waved her hand. “Whatever. Sunday School wasn’t my thing.” As she watched me carefully, I hoped for the best and downed the shot with low expectations. The moment the liquid hit my tongue I knew I was fucked. Dios mío, was I fucked. By the smug look on her face, she knew it too. Twirling the empty glass in my fingers, I studied the captivating woman with renewed interest. “How is it that you’re the only bartender in Houston who can get this drink right?” Still grinning, she licked that damn lip again and returned the bottles to the shelf, the motion causing her tiny tank top to ride up and expose her flat stomach. “It’s not rocket science. Hell, some people would say I’m a hit or miss on making anyone happy.” Wiping down the counter, she shot me a look with untold pain hidden behind it. “Some people would even say I’ve never gotten anything right.” “Some people don’t deserve to breathe your air.” Fuck, I meant that. What was wrong with me? Her face broke into the first genuine smile I’d seen from her all night not hidden behind a smirk or condescension, and my chest warmed. My fucking chest warmed, and it wasn’t from the tequila. “So, you got a name, Danger?” “Danger?” I tried for a flat tone, but my voice raised an octave, betraying my interest. Damn. “Yeah, you know…as in, tall, dark, and dangerous?” She squinted her pale blue eyes and silenced an incoming text on her phone. “You look like you could get a girl in a lot of trouble.” I wanted nothing more than to wipe that damn grin off her face. She looked so smug. So sure I wanted her. Fuck, I wanted her. “You have no idea.” Moments passed between us as we stared at each other in silence. That shock of red hair grabbed my attention again, and I couldn’t help but wonder who, or what, happened in her life to cause it. Nobody just did shit like that on purpose. Candy red colored hair just didn’t happen. It pissed me off that I even gave a shit. I wasn’t a good guy. I wasn’t even a decent guy. I didn’t ask girls their names, much less their stories. “So, that’s it?” she asked, chin tilted and one hand resting on a cocked hip. Shit, had she been talking to me this whole time? “What’s it?” I asked, trying to force a bored look. “You really have no name?” I shot her a pointed look, mentally slamming the door on her inquisition. “Danger works. I like it.” I did. I liked it too damn much. And I hated nicknames. I thought they were childish and reserved for those annoying assholes who sat on the same side of the booth at restaurants. The ones who called each other ‘honey’ and ‘baby’ and fed each other bites of their own food and switched plates in the middle of dinner. “Of course, you do,” she snorted in an unladylike, but oddly sexy way. The bar started to get crowded, as patrons shoved bills toward her and demanded drinks. I watched them curiously, wondering what she’d do. To my pleasure, she held up a finger to them and kept her eyes on me. Those eyes were what did it. Those pale blue eyes that tried to hide exhaustion exposed by the dark circles under her eyes and sadness well beyond her years. They sucked me in and broke one of my cardinal rules. “What about your name?” “Hey, what about my drink? You think you could take a break from your date over there to do your job, honey?” Her eyes flickered relief for a moment, then darkened, becoming void of emotion. “Duty calls. Glad I could meet your expectations, Danger.” She reached for the shot glass I held, and I grabbed her hand, my out-of-character reaction surprising both of us. Hesitating a moment, she lifted her eyes and met mine in a battle of wills. I could tell we were both at war with what would happen next; I contemplated the consequences of fucking one of Emilio’s employees. He seemed fond of this one, and the moment it was over, I’d have no choice but to have her fired. Shifting her weight, she made the decision for both of us when she released her hand from my grip and pointed toward the douchebag two seats down, now glaring at us. “Let me know if you want another.” As she poured the asshole that cock blocked me a gin and tonic, I pulled three, twenty-dollar bills out of my wallet and placed them face down on the bar. The exorbitant tip wasn’t a handout, as I suspected she’d think after I left. I generally enjoyed her company. Which was exactly why I had to leave and never talk to her again. She called me dangerous. If I was dangerous, she was fucking deadly. My life revolved around the cartel, stray pussy, and money. I had no time for complications of anything else, and candy hair was a walking, talking complication. I knew in one touch, I had no business being near her. A woman like that could cause the destruction of a man like me. While she argued with the dickbag about the amount of gin she shorted him, I slipped around the long end of the bar, through the kitchen, and out the back door. I cut myself off like a junkie jonesing for his next hit of short shorts and a-size-too-small tank top. After tonight, I knew I couldn’t afford the distraction. Perfect drink or not, I was done with that girl. So, I gave my business to every other bar in Houston and walked out of them pissed off and sober as hell for two months before I caved. However, I never returned to a barstool. Always sitting at one of the tables, I allowed young, annoying waitresses to serve me while I watched her flirt with a new man month after month until it got to be too much to take and stopped going altogether.

Some women were storms who blew into a man’s life and ruined his plans for the night. That woman was a hurricane who uprooted and flooded the very foundation of everything a man thought he knew.

Author Bio

Cora Kenborn writes contemporary and romantic suspense novels with lots of danger, snarky banter, lovable bad boys, and damsels NOT in distress. She loves delving into the twisted mind of a dark villain as well as writing light-hearted romcom. Cora gets a kick out of talking about herself in the third person and is a true Southern girl from Eastern North Carolina, who grew up on sweet tea, front porches, and the simple life. She says “y’all,” “fixin’ to,” and should you deserve it will “bless your heart.” She’s the proud mother of three hyperactive and occasionally adorable children, and wife to an understanding husband who tolerates her chaotic writer’s cave. Although reading is her passion, she can usually be found taking notes during true crime shows, effectively freaking out everyone in the room. Cora admits to being a horrible cook, an even worse baker, and believes she’s more dangerous with a hot glue gun than any weapon on earth. Oh, and she and autocorrect are mortal enemies.

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#Blurred Red Lines #Cora Kenborn #love #romance

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