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anarchyduck · 3 years

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Peas in a Pod

Day 20 Alt Prompt: De-Aged

(posted it on AO3 yesterday, forgot to post it here oops) AO3

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“So let me get this straight,” - Tony massages his temple in effort to soothe his growing headache - “There was a wizard.”

“Yeah,” Ned nods. “And he was shooting off fireballs, like real fireballs, and it was awesome and kinda scary and-”

“Ned. Ned. Find the shortcut to the point. Because nothing explains” - Tony gestures towards the couch - “that.”

Ned blushes with embarrassment and nods . “Right! Sorry, sir. So, uhm, Pete was fighting the wizard guy and he was doing really good! Was totally kicking his ass! And then the wizard like, shot him with some kind of purplish black energy ray stuff? Like it shot right out of his hands. Then the wizard was gone and Pete was… like this.”

Tony eyes the kid on the couch. Same curly brown hair. Same doe brown eyes. It’s everything else that’s wrong. Peter is sixteen, a teenager, and this kid looks like he’s no more than five years old.

As for Peter, well, he looks content watching videos on Ned’s phone. Some children’s cartoon about dogs or something, Tony didn’t quite catch it. But the kid likes it and he isn’t crying anymore so Tony counts that as a win. Judging from the confused state the kid was in upon arrival, it’s safe to assume Peter’s memories are wiped. Or, rather, memories of his life in the present day which is a problem in and of itself.

“So,” Ned’s drawl catches his attention. “What are we going to do?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “We?” he shakes his head. “No, no, you are going home.”

“What about Peter?”

Yeah Stark, what about Peter?

“He’ll go with his aunt.” Tony says simply. Easy enough solution.

“You mean you can’t like, fix him?” Ned asks. “What if he ends up staying like this forever?”

Tony waves off the teen’s concerns. “He won’t.” he assures. “Whatever the wizard guy hit him with will probably wear off in a couple hours. Easy peasy.” After all, the kid couldn’t stay like this forever, could he? That is just absurd.

----------

The effects don’t wear off.

Two hours later and Peter is still a child. Ned is gone, reluctantly dragged out by Happy who also delivered clothes that fit the kid better so he’s no longer swimming in the Doctor Who shirt Tony assumed belonged to one of the boys. During that time, Tony contacts May to fill her in on what’s going on. The woman is stuck at work (“We’re incredibly short staffed today, it’s ridiculous.”) and unable to leave before her shift is over.

It leaves Tony in charge of the kid which, while normally wouldn’t be an issue, he suddenly finds himself out of his depth. Teenagers, he can handle. No problem. They could be reasoned with. But small children?

“Mr. Tony?”

Tony jumps, spinning on hell with his hand pressed firmly against his heart. “Holy shit!” he gasps.

Peter flinches back, eyes wide and looking as startled as Tony feels. Then his bottom lip begins to quiver.

“No no, don’t cry.” Tony says in a rush. “I didn’t mean to scare you, kid. You snuck up on me. Ought to put a bell on you someday.”

That earns him a giggle which washes away the rising guilt. “Uncle Ben says that too.” Peter says. “Says I’m really good at sneaking.”

“You are good at sneaking.” Tony affirms. “What are you doing down here anyway? Thought you were watching TV?” Least that’s where Tony left him. Kid was content with watching the cartoon with the dogs and he figured he could get some work done tracking down the wizard guy.

“I was, but it’s over now.” Peter says dismissively, his eyes already wandering the workshop. Then he actually begins to wander. Tony watches him, contemplating on whether it’s a good idea to let a four year old wander his workshop. It isn’t exactly kid proof and if he knows anything about kids (which is very limited) it’s they like to touch everything. And put things in their mouths.

“What’s that?” Peter asks and Tony leans to the side to look past the monitors and equipment to see what the boy is pointing at.

“Oh that’s DUM-E.”

The robot chirps in response, clicking it’s claw as it peers curiously at the boy. Tony takes a couple steps towards them, immediately thinking Peter might fear the robot. Much to his relief, the boy’s mouth is agape with wonder and eyes equally wide.

“Wow!” he gasps. “Hi DUM-E. I’m Peter.” Peter reaches up to pet DUM-E’s extended arm, giggling as the robot chirps at him. “So is he a robot?”

“Yep. I made him.”

“You made him?” Peter gives him the same look of wonder and amazement. “Wow. Are there other stuff you’ve made?”

“I’ve made a lot of stuff.”

And so Tony gives the kid a proper tour of the workshop. Like his older self, Peter is sharp minded and incredibly smart. He asks questions Tony doesn’t think a four year old would know to ask and hangs onto every word Tony says. When he introduces Peter to FRIDAY, the kid is so ecstatic he can’t sit still. It warms his heart to know Peter keeps that same excitement as he aged.

After the tour, Tony brings him into the kitchen to feed him a late lunch. The kid sits on the kitchen counter next to him, watching Tony’s every move. PB&J sandwiches are the easiest thing he can fix and turns out to be the kid’s favorite.

“So you’re a superhero?” Peter asks curiously.

“Sometimes.” Tony replies as he spreads the peanut butter onto the bread.

“Like Batman?”

“Kiddo, I am way cooler and richer than Batman.”

Peter giggles and Tony thinks it might be the cutest goddamn thing he’s heard all day.

“My daddy is like you.” the kid says suddenly.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Tony asks, finding himself equally curious. He knows through his early research into Peter Parker that the boy’s parents are deceased. Father worked for OsCorp, mother worked for some type of law firm. Aside from the atrocious choice of working at OsCorp, both of them seemed relatively normal.

“Because he makes stuff. B-But not robots like you do. He makes other stuff and-and he white wears a coat and he helps people.” Peter gives a long, wistful sigh then and adds, “I want my daddy and mommy.”

Tony freezes, butter knife stuck in the jar of jelly. Quite suddenly he remembers something else about Peter’s parents.

They both died in a plane crash.

When Peter was four years old.

The man internally panics, mind going blank on what to do, what to say because what can you say?

“Mr. Tony?” Peter’s little voice draws him from his internal crisis. He tilts his head, looking at him curiously and, dare Tony say it, concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Tony sniffs and finishes up the kid’s sandwich. “Yeah, totally fine kiddo. A-OK. So you want this cut up?”

“Yes.” Peter replies, apparently moved on from the incident. Yet, as Tony puts the knife to bread in order to cut, the kid shouts, “No! No no, not like that! You have’ta make the X.”

“Huh?” Tony looks a little helplessly from the kid to the bread.

“The X!” Peter leans over and traces an X on the sandwich. “Like that!”

Tony cuts it up according to the kid’s desire and it’s only then that he sees what the kid means. “Yeah, guess it does look like an X when you cut it, huh? Well, here you go kiddo. Eat up.” He slides the plate to the boy’s side.

Peter takes a large bite and hums with approval as he chews. “‘Ood yob!” he says around his mouthful. It’s the additional thumbs up that makes Tony chuckle. He grabs a juice box from the fridge for the kid, something teenage Peter would have rolled his eyes and grumbled about. Toddler Peter says a polite ‘thank you’ and picks it up with fingers covered in grape jelly.

He decides to capture the moment for May and pulls out his phone. “Heads up, kiddo.” he says and takes a picture. Peter is caught in a half smile, peanut butter smeared on the corner of his mouth. There’s a glob of jelly on his shirt that’s run down the image of Thor’s hammer.

“I wanna see! I wanna see!” Peter instantly demands.

Tony moves to stand next to him and flips the phone for the kid to see the picture. Peter grins and immediately reaches for the phone. “Uh uh, sticky fingers.” Tony says, which gets the kid giggling about being called ‘sticky fingers’. He moves the phone out of reach and sends the image off to May.

“So,” Tony says. “What do you want to do after lunch? TV? Go play with DUM-E? Whatever that wannabe Merlin did to you took away your powers, or maybe just suppressed them. Maybe we ought to run some tests to figure that out.”

On second thought, maybe not. Teenager Peter detests needles; he imagines little Peter hates them just as much.

“DUM-E!” Peter says excitedly.

“You’re going to spoil that bot, kid.”

---

“Thank you so much, Happy.” May says as she steps into the Tower’s elevator. “You really didn’t have to pick me up. I could have drove.”

Happy directs FRIDAY to take them to the penthouse then shakes his head. “It’s no problem.” he says. “Boss wanted to make sure you got here quickly and with that guy who attacked Peter still running around-”

“Right.” May sighs. “Well, guess he could have done worse things than turn Peter younger. At least him and Tony seem to be hitting it off.” She smiles fondly as she recalls the image Tony sent her. She only hopes Peter has been good while they wait for her.

“Yeah, well, the kid’s grown on him.”

“I feel a little jealous, honestly.” May admits. “Peter was so cute when he was little.”

The elevator comes to a stop, the doors slide open to the entrance of the penthouse. It’s oddly quiet inside and the lights are dimmed. “Tony?” Happy calls out as he and May walk through the foyer into the living room.

It looks like a tornado hit it. There are papers thrown about with childish drawings covering them. A sheet covers the kitchen table which has been pulled away from the dining area and there are mini marshmallows covering the floor with some sticking to the large windows that overlook the city. A device that looks like a mini catapult sits on top of the table next to a pile of marshmallows and markers.

May follows the chaos, finding the TV on with the Incredibles playing on a low volume and both Tony and Peter fast asleep on the couch. Peter is still a toddler in every way May remembers, sleeping with his head on Tony’s chest. There are stickers on their faces and she spots marker smears not only on Peter’s arm but also on the hand that’s resting on Peter’s back.

“Did you find-” Happy starts, quietened as May shushes him. He comes to her side, expression softening at the sight. “Least they kept each other busy.” he remarks.

May nods in agreement as she pulls out her phone to take a quick picture of the two. “Like two peas in a pod.”

#webpril 2021 day 20 #webpril 2021 #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #ned leeds #may parker #happy hogan #spiderman #spider-man #iron man #marvel #mcu #duckie's writing

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theassthatquits · 3 years

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Blupjeans Week Day 2 - Ghost

Lup Taaco founded the premier science camp for teens - Camp Rocks! - this side of Faerun almost a decade ago. She did it by herself (mostly) and has the awards, articles, and accolades to prove that it’s a success.

So where does Davenport, her investor, get off going behind her back and hiring someone new without consulting her? Sure, enrollment has plateaued in the last couple of years, the main complaint being that they needed to shake up their staffing and curriculum, but she had it handled. She could take care of it herself, this was just a bump in the road. She didn’t need the help of some fancy doctor, this ‘Dr. Hallwinter’ that Davenport worked with at the university.

Lup scoffed while thumbing through his resume and cover letter. Top of his undergrad at Neverwinter U, a triple major in chemistry, astronomy, and physics. A brief stint working at a funeral home - a little weird, but everyone goes through a quarter life crisis, right? Returning to school a couple years later to get his masters and PhD and now taught at the same university while simultaneously doing interplanar research with Davenport. At the bottom of his resume with “related skills” he put ‘huge nerd’, as if that wasn’t obvious enough.

“Well, at least he knows what he’s talking about,” she muttered to herself as she threw the papers aside. There was no use fighting it now, she had spent weeks arguing and it wasn’t getting her anywhere. And it wasn’t like this was a bad idea, it just wasn’t her idea. This was her camp, after all.

---

Okay, maybe this Dr. Hallwinter guy wasn’t such a bad fit. They got off on the wrong foot, having a couple of heated discussions (fights) about things that she could barely remember. But now, she was standing in the corner of the pavilion, watching him give a very animated lecture on stars and planets. Angus McDonald, one of their first campers and the only one who came every single year, kept raising his hand to ask new questions and Hallwinter loved it. The two of them could go back and forth for hours, talking about theories and experiments and life itself. Angus had signed himself up for all of Dr. Hallwinter’s classes for the summer and loved every minute.

And he wasn’t so bad to look at, she supposed.

Lup was snapped out of her reverie by the class laughing very loudly at some Fortnite reference he made. Without realizing it, she smiled too. Dr. Hallwinter looked up at that moment to see her and his grin grew even bigger. With their eyes locked together, he dabbed and the class lost it all over again. When she giggled at that, she could have sworn he was blushing.

---

Every year towards the end of the summer the staff throws a “spooky soiree” to celebrate the end of camp. Everyone dresses up in a science-themed costume, they use the different things they have learned to create gruesome and cool decorations and effects, and they end the night with a ghost story bonfire. It’s easily Lup’s favorite night of camp. She loves amazing all of the younger kids with the cauldrons of “witches brew” (just dry ice in some punch) and grossing them out with the “eyeballs” (peeled grapes). This year she sewed some LEDs into her black vest, creating stars and constellations. Lup glowed in the dark and she fucking loved it.

She was in the middle of a (spooky) explanation of the witch's brew when she caught sight of Dr. Hallwinter walking up to the party. He was wearing a white shirt with lines drawn across it like a measuring cup and a long red robe over it. She was pretty sure he was wearing a graduation cap, too, which would mean…

“Holy shit you’re a graduated cylinder!” Lup shouted at him from across the way.

Immediately squeals of “language, Miss Lup!” began in front of her and she apologized to them as Dr. Hallwinter walked over with a smile on his face.

“Sure, am! This is pretty much my only Halloween costume, but I do love it.”

“Well, it certainly works for you, Dr. Hallwinter.”

He blushed before saying, “Lup, please just call me Barry. We’ve been having this discussion all summer. The only other person who calls me Dr. Hallwinter is Angus.”

As if to prove his point, Taako swooped in at that moment in a chef’s costume with the letters “FE” written on his shirt and yelled, “Excellent costume, Barold! You look even more like a nerd than usual and that’s saying something.”

Barry laughed. “Thank you, Taako, or should I say Iron Chef?”

Taako bowed deeply. “At your service, sir.”

“Dr. Hallwinter, sir!” They saw smoke before they saw Angus and Lup was a little alarmed before she realized that it was part of his costume. The boy had dressed up like a volcano with fake lava and smoke coming out of the top of it. “Look, it works!”

“All right, buddy!” The pair high fived and a weird fuzzy feeling struck Lup while watching the two of them.

“I think they’re about to start the scary stories over by the bonfire, are you coming, sir?”

“Pshh am I coming? Miss Lup asked me if I could host the festivities. Now you go get a good seat and I’ll be right over to start us off.”

Angus saluted him and ran off, eager for the frights ahead.

“Hosting the ghost stories, that’s a big deal Barold. Lup has hosted the bonfire herself for the last - oh, I don’t know, 2 decades?”

Barry turned to Lup, confused. “Is that true? I don’t want to impose or ruin any traditions.”

She waved him off. “Nah, it’s fine. We got off on the wrong foot, think of it as a peace offering.” Stepping closer to him and putting a hand on his shoulder, her voice got quiet. “You’re a member of this family, Barry.”

It was a good thing it was so dark, otherwise she would have seen his face turn a deep red. “You said my name.”

“Yeah, yeah, go get ready to spook some kids, Bluejeans.”

“Bluejeans?”

“You’ve worn the same blue jeans every single day since you started, even when we do activities by the lake. I’m absolutely convinced that you only packed that one pair for the entire summer.”

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you’re not entirely wrong.”

“Barold. My dude. You only packed one pair of jeans, no shorts, no swim trunks, for an entire summer at a camp?”

“There might have been a slight mishap on the way here in which I lost my shorts, swim trunks, and half of my underwear.”

No one moved or said anything for a second before Taako finally said, “Barry, you know we go into town once a week to get food for the camp, right?”

Barry just stared into space, regretting all of his life choices that led up to this moment. Lup busted up laughing, harder than anyone had seen her laugh all summer. As she wiped a tear from her eye, she patted his shoulder and said, “Well, I guess you know for next year, right?”

He raised an eyebrow playfully. “Next year, huh?”

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t make any promises until I see how well you do at our bonfire fright fest. Speaking of which, we should definitely be heading over there. I am a little nervous to see how Magnus has been keeping the kids occupied.”

---

Lup stood in the back of the crowd, letting Barry take over the hosting responsibilities of the bonfire. It was one of her favorite parts of camp, but it felt right to let him do it. He was doing really well, enhancing his performance with shadow puppets from the fire and interspersing the scary parts with science puns to ease the nerves of the younger kids. She found it absolutely adorable.

“I think Barold is giving you a run for your money, Lulu.”

“He’s better than I expected, that’s for sure.”

“I’m glad you gave the guy a chance. He’s a good dude.”

She smiled. “He is, isn’t he?”

Taako took a moment, watching his sister watch Barry. “You have the hots for him, don’t you? Jeezy creezy, I should have seen this coming. Those arguments you two had at the beginning were spicy.”

“What?!” Lup said, a little too loudly, face flushing. “I do not have the hots for Dr. Bluejeans. He’s just funny and good with the kids and very smart and looks good in jeans and oh my god I have the hots for Dr. Bluejeans.” Her eyes got wide and she clutched Taako’s arms. “Taako what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Lulu, I say this with all the love in my heart: don’t follow your instincts. Right now, your instincts are telling you to let him walk away tomorrow and not say anything, and they are dead wrong.”

“Ughhh but what if he doesn’t feel the same? It ruins the professional relationship we have and then I have to ban him from the camp and then Angus will hate me and we will lose our best customer.”

“Something tells me he also feels the same way.”

“But how do you know that?”

30 minutes earlier

Lup went ahead before the boys to make sure that Magnus hadn’t started a revolution of sorts and that left Barry and Taako to quickly clean up the food before following. Barry’s eyes lingered a little too long on Lup as she was walking away.

“Barold. Are you checking out my sister?”

“What?! No, what makes you think that?”

“I rolled a Nat 20 on perception, Barold. Legally you cannot lie to me. Now tell me: do you have the hots for my sister?”

Barry covered his face with his hands. “Maybe? Yes. Absolutely. Completely. As soon as she called me a poorly-dressed poser on my first day I was done for.”

“Rad. You should do something about that.” Taako started walking towards the bonfire, witch’s brew in hand.

“What, like tell her?”

“Tell her, kiss her, fight her, just something so I get to stop looking at you two making eyes at one another,” Taako yelled back without stopping.

“What - we don’t make eyes at one another, that’s not…she makes eyes at me?”

“Yeah, I think you’re good, my dude.”

The kids started clapping, signaling the end of the story that Magnus was telling.

“All right, thank you Magnus. Very scary, that story about zombie dogs. I think next up we have everyone’s favorite camp director, Miss Lup!”

The kids cheered and Lup had to pull herself together to nail this story that she was definitely going to pull out of her ass because she most certainly hadn't prepared anything.

“Are you kids ready to get the pants scared off of you?”

They screamed enthusiastically.

“All right, this story is about our very own Lake Igneous here at Camp Rocks. Legend has it that there was a woman who used to live in these woods by herself, not letting anyone else get near her. She refused help from anyone that came by, wanting to do everything alone and remain independent. The campers nearby could hear her blowing shit up in the woods and they knew to steer clear. One day, a man stumbled into her home, lost and confused. She lit off several explosions in an attempt to scare him off but he didn’t want to leave.”

As she talked, her eyes found Barry’s.

“He saw how lonely she was and helped her blow shit up. Eventually she grew to really like the man and really enjoyed blowing things up with him.” Barry laughed at that. Lup, suddenly remembering that this was supposed to be a scary story, abruptly tore her eyes away from his.

“They thought it would be a good idea to light some fireworks on the lake, so they took a boat out to the center and created the biggest and most beautiful explosion known to man, taking both of them out. They sacrificed their lives for the dopest light show, and sometimes, on a very clear and quiet night, you can see them in the lake, hand in hand.”

Lup bowed to signal that the story was over and she took her place back next to Taako.

“Lup, that was...pretty rough, not going to lie. Not your best work, that’s for sure.”

“I just got so distracted looking at his dumb face.”

“Yeah, that whole story was glaringly obvious.” She glared at him.

“I just need to get through this night without further making an ass of myself.”

He snorted. “Good luck.”

After the bonfire had wrapped up and all the kids were sent to bed, Lup sat at her favorite spot down by the lake to stare at the stars. She always sat here on the final night, reminiscing over the summer.

“Mind if I join you?” Barry’s voice came out of nowhere, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t expect it. Lup didn’t respond, just patted on the ground next to her. “So, your story was -”

“It’s okay, you can say it was shit, because it was. I definitely did not prepare this year like I usually do.”

“-good. I really liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Especially the part where they die a fiery but beautiful death.”

She snorted and he took the opportunity to move closer to her, their shoulders touching.

“Thank you for letting me join the team this summer.”

“I would say you’re welcome, but I honestly didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“I know. Thank you for giving me a shot.”

“Again, not much choice in the matter.” He laughed. “You turned out alright. Better than I was expecting.”

“High praise from Miss Camp Director.”

“Would you be interested in coming back next year?”

“Absolutely. Pretty sure Angus would boycott if I didn’t show up.”

“He would just show up on your doorstep. Expect a lot of emails this year. So I’ll see you next summer, then?” He hesitated. “Unless you already have other commitments, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Lup, I’ll definitely be here next summer. I was just hoping that maybe we could see each other a little sooner than that. Like maybe this Saturday, dinner?”

She smirked. “A little forward, aren’t we, Dr. Bluejeans?” His face dropped.

“Oh, God. Did I totally misread this situation? Fuck, I am so sorry, I am going to just walk into this lake and never come back -” Barry started to get up, mortified.

“Barry, stop.” He looked at her, eyes wide in embarrassment. She shifted so her face was directly in front of his. “You didn’t misread this situation.” And then she kissed him.

@blupjeansweek2021

#blupjeansweek2021 #barry bluejeans #lup #taz balance #this is definitely the camp rock au i posted about ages ago #i might expand on this later

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malumsmermaid · 4 years

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Summer Days

Part of the 5SOS writer collab headed up by @h0tsos and @maluminspace

Based on the prompt “I don’t know if you noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”

Camp Counselors Malum

Writing Collab Masterlist

Warnings: None! All Fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

After a semester of student teaching for one of their college courses, it was time for summer, and Calum and Michael had decided to stay in town and hold down the apartment for their other two roommates who were electing to go home. Once finals had wrapped up and they said goodbye to the classes they’d been working with they began looking for jobs. They were both sitting in bed together when Michael found an available job working a summer day camp. The pair talked about it for a few minutes before applying, assuming playing games and mainly supervising kids would be easier than lesson planning and having to actually teach things. Plus they were excited by the possibility of seeing some of their kids again, so Calum pulled out his laptop and they sat side by side as they applied.

After about two weeks it was clear that this was different. For one thing, due to low staffing, the kids were all split up into three groups instead of one group per grade level. So now, even though Michael and Calum recognized some of the kids in their group, some of those kids who were bearable during the school year now had some slight sibling drama. Then there were the parents, something Michael and Calum had yet to deal with. Half of them were fine, nice people who cared about their kids and were happy to hear about their day during pick up. The other half, however, was a mix of Karens and Beckys, some of them stay at home moms who were just getting the kids out of the house so that they could go have margs with their girl friends and have a spa day to wash away the stress of the thought of them actually being parents. Some of them even had Michael wondering if he should go to the pharmacy and get a second flu shot for that year.

However, despite some of the parents they had to deal with and the occasional drama, both sibling spats and between groups of friends, Michael and Calum were really enjoying their summer job. They kept up their school year tradition of every other payday one taking the other out for a date night, whether it was as simple as going out to dinner and a movie, or a sunset picnic, or a nice night in the bowling alley.

It was five weeks in, and even with kids coming and going with the weeks, some just disappearing for a one week vacation, others having other camps to go to, things had steadied. It was a rainy Friday at the start of the Fourth of July weekend, so attendance was low to begin with, some kids leaving early. A few of the kids who were there were upset over swim time being cancelled on account of the thunder, but Calum had run down to the gym, claiming it for their group as a replacement for the hour of swimming.

Calum gone to set up the games and the crafts set up on the counter to dry until parents came, Michael and the other leader started a round of Heads Up Seven Up to keep things quiet and calm until Calum said he was ready. Finally, Calum radioed down that everything was ready and Michael got all the kids lined up, hovering to the back of the line as they made their way through the rec center to the gym. Once in the gym, the kids all gathered around Calum and he smiled saying, “Ok, since it’s a small group today, we’re doing stations. We’ve got two boxes of four square, two spots for basketball games, and then some jump ropes and hula hoops. I’m gonna put on some music and whenever it stops you have to move to a new station, alright?” The kids all cheered and Calum smiled continuing, “Alright, I’m going to give you each a number and that’s going to be the station you’re starting at, ok?”

Once the kids were all split up into groups and ready to start, Calum made his way over to the radio, pulling up a Kidz Bop only playlist on his phone that was already connected to the AUX jack and hitting play. The two men hovered around each other, eyes on the playing kids. After a few songs Michael hummed, “Can’t wait to go home and make dinner with legitimately any other playlist on.”

Calum smirked, hand coyly reaching up to rub Michael’s back, “Bold of you to assume that I won’t overtake the speaker and put this right back on.”

Michael shot his boyfriend a sharp look, filled with a threat that he couldn’t voice at work. Calum just bit his lip in response, pausing the music before a fifth song could play and calling out “Time to switch!”

They made it through three station changes before one of the kids from Michael’s class earlier that year came running over, “Mr. Michael!!! Come play HORSE with us!!”

Michael gave Calum a wide eyed stare as the other kids in the group came running over, grabbing him by his hands and dragging him over to their half of the basketball court. He ended up making the first few easy shots, but then one of the kids made a shot from beyond the foul line. Calum could read the anxiety in his boyfriend’s face when it was his turn, silently begging the younger man to change stations early to rescue him.

Calum, however, remained strong, knowing an army of upset kids was worse than Michael missing the shot. At least, until he watched the blonde’s feet slip out from under him as he shot, toppling backwards onto the floor as the basketball fell to the ground halfway between him and the hoop.

Calum quickly jogged over, phone left on top of the radio. He helped Michael to his feet, the pair holding on maybe a second or two longer than necessary before Calum pulled away, “Need an ice pack?” he teased lightly as Michael rubbed the back of his head.

“Nah, I think I’ll live,” the blonde returned, smiling as the kids checked on him too. “Besides, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do, but especially with sports stuff.”

The kids all giggled at Michael’s response and Calum hummed. “Fine, I guess we can swap, then. Mike, you run the music and I’ll play HORSE. We’ve got until the end of this song before they need to switch again.”

Michael gave his boyfriend a teasing salute before going over to the music, tapping the screen to see how long until the song was over. He hummed as he saw texts from their group chat with Luke and Ashton. As soon as the song was over he paused the new one and made the switch stations call. Once the kids were all moving in the same direction, Calum getting pulled into four square, Michael opened the texts, using Calum’s passcode. He skimmed the latest line from Ashton, something about one of his plants. Michael just opened Calum’s camera, pulling the phone super close to his face for a picture.

Can’t talk, working right now. Plant update t-minus 3 hours.

As soon as the message sent Michael put the phone back down, watching on as Calum tried to take it easy on the kids, even if none of them returned the favor. Calum ended up trapped at four square for the rest of the time in the gym, Michael jumping when he realized it was ten minutes past when they were supposed to be having afternoon snack. Calum gathered a kid from each group to help him get everything back in the equipment room, everything going away much quicker than it had come out, and soon enough they were back in the classroom.

Two hours later and there were three kids left out of all the groups, other leaders leaving Calum and Michael to wait with the kids in the game room while they cleaned the classrooms before clocking out. Calum was sitting in one of the chairs in front of a tv, a kid next to him in another chair as they played minecraft. Michael was sitting at the table with the other two kids, signout book by his elbow as he colored with them. Soon enough the two kids with Michael were going home with their stepdad and Michael picked up the crayons and extra sheets of paper. Once they were back in the closet he picked up the binder and meandered over to the xbox station.

Calum let out an exasperated sigh as Michael leaned up against the back of his chair, knocking down a stair block again. “Julien how do you get the stairs to go upside down like that dude?”

“You jus gotta fly over and like, plop a block and then aim for the top.” Julien explained.

“Oh gosh, I keep forgetting that we can fly right now...how do I do that again?”

Michael snorted and Calum spun around, giving him his best puppy eyes as he pouted, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”

Michael chuckled softly as Calum repeated his earlier statement back to him. He shoved down the temptation to kiss the pout off of Calum’s lips, instead turning to look at Julien, “Are you enjoying explaining how to play Minecraft to Mr. Calum, Julien, or would you like some actual help with your treehouse?”

Julien’s face lit up as he looked up at Michael, “Please??”

Calum just shook his head in defeat, handing the controller over as Michael pulled up another chair, setting the binder in Calum’s lap as he leaned forward, listening as Julien explained his vision for the treehouse project.

Right as Calum was about to call the main office to let them know that there was still one kid at their site, Julien’s mom came running in. They chatted for a minute, Julien excitedly telling his mom about beating Michael at HORSE “because he fell down and Mr. Calum had to take over.”

Once Julien was sure he had all his stuff and they’d cleaned up, Michael and Calum went into the office, signing onto the tablet to log their hours for the day before making their way to the car. As they sat in their seats, Michael queuing up music for the drive home, Calum turned in his seat asking, “Does your head still hurt from knocking against the floor, Mikey?”

Michael hummed, glancing towards his boyfriend and then the ceiling as he pretended to think, “Maybe a little…”

Calum grinned, leaning over, gently pushing Michael’s head so he could smooch the back of it. “Better?”

Michael smiled, shaking his head no and tapping his cheek next, then his nose, and then his lips, each one following a new kiss from Calum in the previously tapped place. Michael sighed when Calum broke the kiss to his lips too soon for his liking. “More kisses when we get home, I promise.” Calum teased easily, finally pulling his seatbelt over his shoulder.

“I can live with that. Want me to teach you Minecraft after dinner, or were you enjoying Julien telling you what to do?”

“Maybe if you can properly motivate me I’ll learn it.” Calum said, wiggling his dark eyebrows at Michael.

“So long as you don’t forget afterwards,” Michael said, grin spreading his cheeks as he put the car in drive and began the route home.

Writer Discord: @cashtonasfuck @kingcals @koalacal @loveroflrh @goth5sos @irwinkitten @5-secondsofcolor @5sosnsfw @punkrockpreferences @gigglyirwin @fallinluke @calumcest @catearscliffo @mermaidcashton @spicycal @sublimehood @shal-pal @queer-5sos @mysticalhood @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @castaway-cashton @jae-writes-fanfiction @sexgodashton @vipclifford @adoringlrh

Tag List: @calpops @wildflowergrae @empathycth @talkfastromance4 @thesubtweeter @allier59 @afihemmings @treatallwithkindness @theyorthemrecords

Slash!Tag List: @tigerteeff

#calum hood #michael clifford #malum #calum hood fluff #michael clifford fluff #malum fluff #5sos writing collab

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razorblade180 · 4 years

Text

Looking Back

[Lasting Embers au spoilers]

A constant in life is that life is constantly changing; a concept known to any huntsman that were worth their salt on the battlefield. As well as anybody who chose a dangerous life style. For Adam, it was the second constant in his life. The first was the stary void that dawned over him with its trillions of stars. It might be the only real perk of night watch. It was his turn to keep an eye out for any enemy that could’ve been following him and the rag tag fever dream of a team he found himself with. When Jacquelyn told him life is a story that goes the way each person decides, he never imagine somehow he had written a story that would lead him to helping members of team RWBY, their families, and his as well. Crazy for sure but hey, crazier had happened. This didn’t even make the list.

Yang approached him from behind with two mugs in her hand. The both of them were ordered to watch the forest clearing from the tree line. Ruby was dead set on making sure the two of them were in sync enough to fight together if things got hairy. Yang could think of a million other ways to spend the night but she wasn’t about to complain and handed him the coffee.

Yang:One coffee, black. If you’re going for something gross to keep you awake then I understand.

Adam:I told you black so you couldn’t slip anything in it.

Yang:....

Adam:Joking, I wasn’t serious. Mostly.

Yang:Your humor is more bitter than your drink. *sips* you should try to be more grounded.

Adam:That was terrible. We can’t both be bad at this or I might die from boredom alone.

Yang:Stabs to the chest didn’t end you. I doubt puns will. I’d be upset; could’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago if they did.

Adam:What can I say? I’m one lucky bastard.

Yang:I’ll say....

The blonde bruiser sat down with her head supported by her hands. Being here was awkward, too awkward. Neither of them really continued speaking. One watched the fields whil the other star gazed. Adam would sometime steal glances at Yang’s arm before going back to mapping out the sky. Yang let out a long and over the top sigh. At this point, talking to Adam couldn’t be as unbearable as saying nothing.

Yang:We should play a game.

Adam:What?

Yang:You heard me. It’ll pass the time. Besides, I’m positive Ruby will keep sticking us as partners if we don’t even pretend to get along.

Adam:Who’s pretending? I made my peace with my thoughts on you a long time ago. If I hadn’t then I wouldn’t have entertained the thought of looking over your daughter for over a decade.

Yang:Hmm is that right? Well, can’t say I’m not entirely over that hump.

Adam:This makes the fourth of fifth time you’ve told me that. You need new material. Freeing Jackie, me, when I showed up at your home, the train ride; I get it. Messaged received.

Yang:Tsk, no need to sound smug about it.

Adam:I’m not. I just don’t see a reason for you to state the obvious. You don’t forgive someone who shouldn’t be forgiven. What, are you upset because people like your sister don’t share the sentiment?

Yang:Why bring Ruby up and not Blake?

Adam:Like I said, stating the obvious. How are you two though? You’ve had plenty of time to properly bury that hatchet.

Yang:We’re just fine. Even before this whole cult shit.

Adam:Good. It’s already insane you two “killed” me and didn’t get together. I’d feel some type of way if you weren’t even friends. Talk about a let down.

Yang:You’re the reason- ugh, why the hell am I even trying to hold a proper conversation with you? I might as well pull my hair out...

Adam:....The hate game.

Yang:What?

Adam:It’s the game I wanna play. You and another person take turns talking about something you hate about the other.

Yang:That....sounds so stupid.

Adam:That’s the spirit, I’ll go first. You’re really loud all the time. Ever heard of a inside voice?

Yang:That’s rich coming from the screaming goat. All you ever did was scream Blake’s name.

Adam:All you ever did was scream in general. I hate how you always seem to butt into everything. It’s one thing to help a friend but you like act like you have a right to have an opinion on people you know by association.

Yang:I don’t need to know much about a terrorist to know you’re terrible.

Adam:I hate how you haven’t realized this is the first time you’re judging me by the crimes I committed for the first time, instead of claiming I was nothing but fake towards Blake and Ilia.

Yang:....

Adam:Everything is personal with you.

Yang:Says the hypocrite.

Adam:I won’t deny that. You feel better or you got more on your chest?

Yang:We’d be here for years if I said it all.

Adam:Then say the important ones I know you wanna say. “I hate that you’re still alive.” Or is it “I can’t stand your dismissive attitude?” The fact anybody like me was given a second-

Yang:I hate that you’ve spent more time with Yujin than me...

Adam:Oh....hmm. *lays back*

Yang:Got nothing smart to say, jackass?

Adam:Hey if you raised my kid with me barely around, I’d hate you too. Can’t fault you for that one.

Yang:It’s a twisted joke really. So many people to look over her from afar and it’s you. What was Sun thinking?

Adam:We were under staffed and things got ugly really fast. Decisions had to happen quickly. Plus the threat was clearly too unknown and dangerous to half ass anything. They killed two of you after all.

Yang:It would be wise to keep that incident out of your mouth. Ruby might tolerate you but that’ll change before I can even lift a finger.

Adam:Now you’re warning me? I thought your sister stomping me out would make your day.

Yang:Dude...shut up.

Adam:....What happened to your uncle and friend was terrible, sorry.

Yang:Ugh, even you saying that feels so wrong.

Adam: Please, thank you, and I’m sorry aren’t that hard. It’s not even new. The white fang wasn’t all snarls and chanting like you think. For awhile I pretty calm there.

Yang:The key word being “awhile.” You murdered your own.

Adam:Yep.

Yang*grits teeth* That’s all you say? People keep saying you’re different left and right and yet you don’t seem even a little regretfull. You’re sipping coffee and staring at the stars as if you hadn’t spent most of your life ruining other’s! What part of that sounds like a change of heart!?

Adam didn’t break his attention away from those stars. If he did, Adam would’ve no doubt seen how irritated Yang was. Her eyes burned red as she waited for an answer. Yang’s coffee was even boiling.

Yang:Well?

Adam:Regretting doesn’t bring them back, or the most heartfelt apologies. It just stirs anger. You wouldn’t feel better about your arm if I apologize.

Yang:So you choose to not even try.

Adam:No, I’ll just convince Jacquelyn to get the relic of creation whenever we eventually go to Atlas.

A perfectly good cup of coffee falls out of Yang’s hand. Did she hear that right? Adam just said he planned on creating an arm with a relic, for her!

Adam:What? It made me an eye. Making an arm is far less complicated than that. I’d say that would be better than any words I could say that you wouldn’t believe anyways.

Yang:....It’s your turn again.

Adam:Ah, let’s see. Well, if I were to be honest I guess...it really bothers me how similar you are to your daughter.

Yang:The hell does-

Adam:Let me finish before you break my ribs. That kid of yours pretty feisty and passionate about so many things. She bugged me to help train her until I finally said yes. Yujin gets frustrated easily and gets really sensitive about certain maternal subjects; yet it isn’t like she doesn’t want to avoid those conversations altogether. Seriously, your daughter is a little bit of a mess, but a fun mess. That bothers me because for a split second I can’t help but wonder that maybe if you and encountered each other on the same side in the beginning...maybe we’d be decent acquaintances or something.

Yang:D-Did you just say what I think you just said.

Adam:Who knows? I suck with words. I’m gonna rest for a little bit.

He turned his back to her to avoid eye contact. Yang couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. Was he embarrassed? Did he actually try some roundabout way of saying she was a good person? If only Blake was here for that. She would’ve flipped. Yang looked up the sky then back at the field; still nothing. When her guys went back to the stars it was curiosity.

Yang:Hey, were you staring a constellation in particular or something?

Adam:You can see Capricornus well from here. I joke all the time with Jael about that one since she’s into a shark faunus. Looking at it made me think about her is all.

Yang:Jael is your second daughter right?! I can’t believe I didn’t know that. I remember the first one for sure.

Adam:You were a little preoccupied to notice anything regarding Jael. Her and Yujin share a birthday.

Yang:No foolin!? Well how about that.

Adam:Yeah, life sure does like it’s jokes. I get a lot of flack if I’m not around for one’s birthday. Jael will get pouty and your daughter gets fussy. “You promised!” I’ve heard that too much.

Yang:Hehe, Jin might get that from me. It’s natural for your kid though. I know I wanted my dad around for mine. Even when I grew up and acted like I was too grown to really care, I wanted his birthday breakfast. Your kid looked like a real beauty.

Adam:Thanks, definitely got that from her mother.

Yang:Haha, don’t feel bad. Seeing Yujin with short hair made me think Jaune had another younger sister I just never met. His genes are way too strong.

Adam:Trust me, I’ve seen her with long hair and in the middle of a fight. I might’ve called her your name a few times.

Yang:Oof, that must’ve pissed her off.

Adam:No....she was actually surprised more than anything. Yujin never hated you Yang. Despite how she acted whenever your name was mentioned. I think she just wasn’t sure how to feel about you besides feeling lonely. I’m not any better with Jael. You wanna talk regrets, I don’t think I spent enough time with her the way I should’ve. Hopefully I’m wrong.

Yang:It’s very telling that you don’t regret your past but you regret something like that.

Adam:My past is terrible and dark, but it led me to my wife and kids. It feels wrong to regret it, so I’ll just accept it and carry on. Otherwise I don’t think I’ll ever have time to live in the present.

Yang:Geez, ever the drama queen. Though I can see a little bit of that view point. Still a spit in the face to people and yourself if you asked me.

Adam:The world thinks I’m dead and has made their mind up about me a long time ago. I go around taking down other terrorists and orginizations to keep them safe as a way to give back. I don’t owe the world anymore than that. I’m simply a remnant among Remnant. My regret is my kids have me as a dad. A kid should be able to talk about their parents and be proud.

Yang:Can’t argue with that. At least you stayed and are apart of their life. I can barely say that.

Adam:Helping save Remnant from another shadow war is a pretty strong excuse. Especially when the group has actually killed your family members. You’re just protecting them. Jaune and Yujin understand that.

Yang:....I hate that you’re not as terrible anymore. Reasonable you is too...

Adam:Reasonable?

Yang:I really hope I don’t have with this for another ten years.

Adam:I give it two, tops. You have a maiden with you this time and me. I’ll just hit you so you can get stronger and wreck shop.

Yang:Hit me and I hit you.

Adam:I’ll block, now we’re both wrecking shop.

Yang:Jacquelyn must have the patience of a saint to deal with you.

Adam:Yep, she’s pretty great. Saved my life, saved my soul. Couldn’t ask for more. You two would probably get along.

Yang:Nah, we worked together once. Wasn’t the best experience.

Adam:I was kidnapped and you were both pregnant. I’m not the smartest person but I’m positive that was a recipe for disaster. She thinks you’re cool, really respect your virtues. Sometimes it feels like she’s quoting you unfortunately.

Yang:Oh, glad I left a good impression. Maybe I can have her whisper regrets into your ear. Seriously, I regret things like lying to Ruby about tiny things yet you don’t really regret anything?

Adam:My regrets take place before the white fang. They remain in the work camp I escaped from. It’s funny, Yujin reminds me of my little sister, Eve.

Yang:Are you telling me that you, Adam, had a sister named Eve?

Adam:When you live in a place devoid of hope or faith, you cling to it in any way can. So my mother named us to help maintain hers. Probably had something to do with the loss of our father. Can’t say, never met him.

Yang:What was your mother’s name?

Adam:Don’t know. I called her mom and the gaurds called her by a serial number. Even that’s a little hazy. Anyways, sis got caught in an mining incident; mother was gunned down because I furious at a gaurd that stopped me from saving Eve.

Yang:Wow that’s umm, heavy stuff. Is that how you...*point to face*

Adam:Yeah, called it my punishment for disobeying. As far as regrets go, it would’ve been nice to be a son and brother; one that got to actually have proper meals.

Yang looked at Adam stare deeply into the void of space. It was strange. Yang has never seen Adam look mournful before. His eyes seemed to get more lost in thought by the second. A part of her felt....sorry for him.

Yang:I’m sure they’ve watched over you since day one. Who knows? Maybe they’re the real reason you’ve survived so long? If I know a thing or two about little sisters and mothers, they’ll never let you rest until you clean up your act, hehehe. Ruby can vouch for that. I bet both of them would be proud of your end result.

Adam:That’s funny. It kinda sounds like you just tried showing me compassion.

Yang:Pfft, I think you may have brain damage you didn’t know about.

Adam:Oh it’s possible. Neo and Mercury have put me through some shit.

Both of them laughed and continued to chat aimlessly, unaware that Ruby and Raven were watching from their own vantage point.

Raven:Well look at that? Maybe the gods haven’t abandoned us if people like those two can chat like that.

Ruby:Looks like our colorful team has gotten a little more stable. Now if only Weiss can get used to Nora’s snoring.

Raven:That’s seriously on your to-do list?

Ruby:I refuse to lead my team poorly this time around. I’ll do whatever I can whenever I can.

Raven:Qrow and Oscar would be proud to see you back on your feet, the right way this time.

Ruby:Can’t mourn forever. This is the mission to end all missions. I’m going full throttle...

#rwby #rwby au #yang xiao long #adam taurus #raven branwen #ruby rose #rwby lasting embers

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Second David Job

leverage 1.13

parker AND eliot were both using lil flip notepads when they were casing the museum

- - - - -

they were apart for three months. THREE!!! MONTHS!!!

- - - - -

the whole scene where parker, hardison, eliot and sophie are casing the place and just narrowly missing each other until it all blows up in their faces? BIG doctor who vibes from the episode where donna and the doctor keep barely missing each other until they see each other through the windows and get caught

- - - - -

aww the last dammit hardison of the season

- - - - -

(Hardison drops his helmet as he rounds a corner, followed by two guards)

Hardison (to Eliot): Help me.

Eliot: I got you.

Hardison: Help me, help me!

(Eliot grabs Hardison’s arm and flips him, then gestures to the other guards)

Eliot: I got it.

Eliot: All right, check one floor up. I think I saw another guy dressed just like this one.

Guard: Got it.

Guard 5: Let’s go.

Eliot: Move! (pushes Hardison into the elevator)

Hardison: I'm gonna kick your butt.

Eliot (pushes Hardison): Stand over there!

Hardison: I'm gonna kick your butt

🥰 chaotic boyfriends 🥰

- - - - -

(Sophie walks toward the doors. Parker drops down in front of her)

Parker: Oh! W- Where did you --

Parker: Run now. Talk later

- - - - -

sophie took off her heels to run

- - - - -

okay but I NEED THAT SCENE OF ELIOT, HARDISON, AND PARKER SQUISHED INTO THE BACK SEAT OF NATE’S CAR AS THEY SPEED AWAY, HAVING NOT SEEN EACH OTHER FOR THE PAST THREE MONTHS

- - - - -

Hardison: How'd you know we'd be there?

Nate: Last week before the exhibit opens, security almost in place, but not fully staffed. Best time to case the joint. Plus, I did chase all of you at one point or another.

- - - - -

Eliot: Is she in on this?

Sophie: "She" can hear you, okay?

Hardison: Wait a minute. There is no "this," Eliot.

Parker: Sophie did come back for me.

(Nate walks over to the table, which is covered in plans)

Eliot: Wouldn't have had to if she wouldn't have lied to you.

Hardison: No calls for three months. I don't need you people.

Parker: What do you mean, you don’t need us?

Sophie: I’m sorry, I seem to remember a certain job with horses where I backed your play, actually.

Eliot: I don't care! You don't con your crew!

(the four of them begin arguing, talking over each other. Nate whistles to get their attention)

parker immediately backing sophie up? we love a trusting daughter

hardison acting all dismissive and parker IMMEDIATELY calling him out? amazing

eliot having trust issues? we’re sad to see it but not surprised at all lol

- - - - -

Nate: Glen-Reeder security system here.

Parker: And that's not the worst of it. (walks over to table)

Nate: Hmm?

Parker: The Davids are under bulletproof glass on a motion-Detector pad.

Nate: Really?

(the others join them, Nate takes a step back)

Parker: Mm-Hmm.

Sophie: Environmentally sealed…

Nate: Really.

Sophie: …kept at a constant temperature and humidity in the case. I saw them working on the airflow.

(Nate walks away, no one notices)

THE FAMILY BACK TOGETHER AGAIN

- - - - -

Nate: Why'd you come back? We agreed to scatter for six months. All of you–all of you—made an amateur move being there.

Parker: It's too hard to leave a job undone. It's like an itch.

Hardison: I put a lot of work into us, into that office. It was like my second home. I blew up my second home.

Eliot: As annoying as you people are, I quit this crew when I quit this crew. Nobody makes me leave.

Sophie: I just, I really wanted to hurt Sterling.

THEYRE A FAMILY, YOUR HONOR

- - - - -

eliot smiled when nate said he taunted them bc:

1. fuck with sterling at all costs,

2. typical nate, and

3. he MISSED THIS

ALSO

hardison and sophie look exhausted and annoyed when nate said he told them he was going to steal it. meanwhile, parker and eliot fucking smile because yeah, get on their level. they Get It™

- - - - -

the team sitting around the table like old times ,,,

ALSO hardison’s worktable tho,,, half eaten bag of chips, empty bottle of orange soda, mini basketball, etc. we love to see how this man works

- - - - -

Sophie: Hey, I think the roof's the way in, but it looks like they've rigged alarm sensors to the skylights.

Parker: I can get around those.

Eliot: Really? And end up on one of the new 20 cameras they got down there from our last little trip to the basement?

Parker: That was fun.

Hardison: Yeah. Could we talk about that?

Parker: Talk about what?

hardison: can we talk about the kiss or ???

parker and eliot are sitting next to each other :)

also eliot is wearing flannel now and we love to see it

- - - - -

Eliot: How'd we miss that?

Nate: Grifter, hitter, hacker, thief. You were all trying to solve your version of the crime instead of just trying to solve the crime. There was a reason we worked together.

- - - - -

Parker: What about Maggie?

parker likes maggie

Parker: Okay, look, you always have a plan "b," right? So, fine. Without Maggie, what's the plan "b"?

MASTERMIND PARKER IN SEASON ONE

- - - - -

Nate: You know, I had to ask her out 10 times before we even got a coffee --

Eliot: Coffee? I would love to. Yeah. What time--? In an hour? I, yeah, I would love to. Let me write down where you want to go. I know exactly where that place is at. All right. I'm looking forward to it. (hangs up)

Nate: Yeah, all right -- No.

Eliot: She probably just really wants some hot coffee.

Nate: Shut up!

Eliot: It's not like a date. (pulls his hair back)

Nate: Are you kidding me? You're fixing your hair?

Eliot: Because I’m playing the professor Sinclair dude!

maggie’s thirst + nate ready to die LMFAO

- - - - -

parker, hardison and sophie watching the button cam footage like a soap opera (sophie is literally eating gummy bears lmfao)

- - - - -

(Parker, Eliot and Hardison sit on the stairs as Maggie and Nate stand in the dining room, arguing)

Eliot: I feel used.

lmao poor eliot. although we love to see the ot3 sitting together as a unit

- - - - -

eliot using a tight alias and then using his real phone number? big dumbass energy

- - - - -

Nate: So we replace the rebar, reinforce the concrete, with any luck, they'll never know what hit 'em. And that, that's the plan.

Maggie: You actually expect this to work?

Nate: Um…

Hardison: No, no, you're supposed to say, "wow. That's just crazy enough to work."

Sophie: Incredibly, chance does seem to bend itself to his bizarre machinations.

Parker (whispers): That's his superpower. (smells Maggie)

in this house we love and respect maggie

also dnjsjsjjdnsn under the cork boards there are two (2) big cases of orange soda and beer for eliot

+ now parker is wearing a very pretty flannel that I want

- - - - -

Maggie: I have to check museum inventory.

Nate: Oh. Easy.

(Nate looks at Hardison, who types on a laptop, then shows monitor to Maggie)

Maggie: This is confidential. (takes laptop) You're not reading my e-mails, are you?

Hardison: No. No.

(Maggie looks down at the laptop. Hardison nods to Nate while she’s not looking)

LMFAO

- - - - -

Sophie: Okay, why don't you run up to him? Being just a little bit out of breath, it changes the speech rhythms—

[Blackpoole Gallery]

Sophie: --makes it harder to detect a lie.

(Maggie passes Parker, taking Lloyd’s phone, and starts to run)

Maggie: Lloyd!

[Mansion Dining Room]

Hardison: See? Like that right there. It's informative.

Eliot: You learn and you con

it’s true, your honor

- - - - -

Nate: Okay. What's he found?

Hardison: Oh. Well, looky here. Dr. Ernst Volk, University of Berlin, dead. Dr. Schliemann, London museum, dead. Oh. Oh, and also the three guys that actually discovered the tomb. Eliot, what does that say?

Eliot: It says "dead."

Hardison: D-E-D, dead, baby.

Eliot and Nate: D-E-A-D.

Hardison: I-I know how to-- I was throwing a little style on it, Just a little bit, a little style. I know how to spell "dead," damn it. I can steal a bank, I can spell "dead. (annoyedly drinks orange soda)

give him a break pls

- - - - -

Sophie: Wrap it up now, Maggie. You're doing great.

THEY HAVE CHEMISTRY

john rogers said that they had a fling in canon (I’m thinking during sophie’s absence in season two) and bless his soul for giving that to us

- - - - -

Eliot: You need something?

Sophie: I was just trying to make myself useful.

Eliot: Yeah, well, last time you tried that, we had to blow up the office.

Sophie: That's not fair.

Eliot: I was just getting used to it.

Sophie: What? Having an office?

Eliot: Being part of a team.

Sophie: Look, I didn't mean, you know, it wasn't supposed to go down like that.

(Parker walks in and tosses a bag on the floor near Eliot)

Parker: What's going on?

Eliot: Sophie here was just trying to apologize.

(Hardison carries the painting into the room)

Sophie: No, I wasn't.

Parker: She tried that with me earlier. She kind of sucks at it.

Eliot: A little bit.

Hardison: Oh, did she give you the speech about how we're thieves and about how this is what thieves do and if we were in her shoes, we'd have done the same thing?

Eliot: No, I think she was just getting to that part.

(Eliot puts the part he was working on down and stands up)

Eliot: You apologized to him first, huh? Why am I last?

Sophie: I wasn't apologizing. I...

Eliot: That's the problem.

Sophie: I just wanted to see if w-we… we were all okay with each other.

Eliot: Okay. There it is.

Parker: I forgive you.

Hardison: Apology accepted.

Eliot: Yeah.

they give sophie shit but they still love her

also eliot is such a sap he misses the office and even admits that he liked having a team what a SOFTIE

- - - - -

Geary: Pictures have been distributed. We're scanning every guest that comes into the museum.

Sterling: Eliot Spencer?

Geary: Eliot Spencer, (referencing files) wanted in five countries, including Myanmar—

(Eliot walks behind Geary and Sterling, pausing to listen for a moment as they walk away from him)

Geary: --which is offering a half-million-dollar bounty on his head.

Sterling: Bringing Spencer to justice and getting paid for it? It's icing on the cake.

(Geary and Sterling get into an elevator)

[Museum Lobby]

(Geary and Sterling walk out of the elevator)

Sterling: Parker?

Geary: Parker. Wanted in nine countries, including Brazil and Yemen.

Sterling: Yeah, tough choice. I'll have to flip a coin.

(Parker is working in the gift shop of the lobby, watching them walk by)

Sterling: How about Sophie Devereaux?

Geary: England, France, Spain, Luxembourg -- Europe, basically.

Sterling: France. Wonderful shopping, horrifying prisons.

(they walk past Sophie, who stifles a laugh)

[Mechanical Room]

(Hardison turns on a light on his hat, opening a panel and attaching clips)

Sterling: Alec Hardison.

Geary: Well, he better not show his face in Iceland

I LOVED THIS MONTAGE

also we love to learn more about the team

- - - - -

on hardison’s phone when it shows their synchronized countdowns, he has himself down as “big h”

- - - - -

Ian: Conspiracy to commit robbery is what, five years? Catching him in the act, 20.

- - - - -

nate rappelled in this one!

- - - - -

nate snatching the gun right out of blackpool’s hand? eliot taught him that and you CANNOT change my mind.

- - - - -

Ian: Maggie!

(Ian walks over to Maggie, followed by Nate and Sterling)

Ian: Well, you understand –

(Maggie punches Ian in the face. He falls to the floor)

Maggie: Screw therapy. That felt really good. (walks away)

we stan a QUEEN

- - - - -

Sterling: Of course, you know your entire plan depended on me being a self-serving, utter bastard.

Nate: Hmm. Yeah, that's a stretch.

(Nate hands Sterling the gun and heads for the door)

Sterling: I'll call you when it's done.

Nate: You do that

- - - - -

(the team stands in a circle, dressed for travelling)

Nate: Thank you, all of you. You surprised me.

Eliot: We had a good run.

Hardison: It's a good time to move on.

Parker: I'm going somewhere... else.

Sophie: A fresh start.

Nate: We made a difference. Remember that.

Hardison (to Parker): Where you going?

Parker: Let's see how hard you look.

(the team separates reluctantly, each going a different direction. They all pause for a long moment, then the screen goes to black)

parker and hardison are still cute, parker is about to cry, hardison and eliot look very sad and almost tearing up, and sophie is actually crying

also hardison was the last one to turn around and that’s so in character it hurts my heart

+ the ot3 were each wearing leather jackets (plus eliot wearing a hoodie underneath = bix2)

I hate the scenes when they split up and the producers said that they ended every season as if that was final anD B O Y IF I HAD TO WATCH THAT AND HAVE IT BE THE END I WOULD HAVE R I O T E D

#leverage #leverage 1.13 #leverage 1x13 #leverage season 1 #season 1 #notable moments #mine

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obscureoperations · 3 years

Note

yeah.....!lol was thinking of patrick fucking martin....

Hold on.. hol on... Hold on! Nah! You cant be doing shit like this. 🤔😂I mean I had no idea how I could make this work. I decided to be an ass and ignore other asks just to see if I could get this going. I did, But it’s shit imo. I tried. and now here we go!😬

Patrick was so livid, he was on the verge of tears by time nine thirty rolled around. They had been waiting for their appetizers for almost an hour. He was at least relieved for the liberal amount of drinks. He had finally swung a reservation to Dorsia, the hottest restaurant around--it only took him a little over two months. The second he entered the place he was slightly underwhelmed. It was nice… but he already preferred the atmosphere of Del Posto.The lighting was dim, a large chandelier hung in the main hall, the music was faint and ambient. It was a reservation for six. Himself, Evelyn, Bryce and his date. Luis Caruthers and Courtney Rawlinson. He swirled the last of his j&b around in his glass before he downs it with a visible wince.

“God Patrick… maybe we should just leave. I’m sure they’ll give you a refund.” Evelyn huffs

“No.. we’re staying. I didn’t stay on that fucking waiting list for two months for us just to up and leave.”

Bryce began to laugh as he downed the rest of his martini, he was already beginning to go off on one. Patrick almost wanted to pull him aside and demand that he get his shit together. He’ll be damned if he gets them all kicked out. Instead he whistles through his teeth getting the man’s attention. He tapped his left nostril twice, gesturing over to the bathroom. Bryce seemed to immediately sober up.

“Excuse me… I’m going to go find that waiter.” Patrick said as he rises from the table.

“I’m… gonna go head to the bathroom…” adds Bryce.

Evelyn rolls her eyes. “Just say the two of you are gonna go do a line. The way you’re acting, it’s like you want to run off together.” She quickly fishes a cigarette from her purse, before turning her attention to Courtney. Patrick briefly runs his fingers through his hair, straightening his tie as he turns to leave. He brushes his hand over his inner jacket pocket to feel the large serrated knife firmly in place. By the time that they left, he would have to find their waiter..Matthew? He couldn’t remember the kid’s name. All he knew was that he had embarrassed him in front of his friends. He would take care of him quickly enough in the alley.

The two men practically power walked their way over to the bathroom, nearly running into someone as they turned the corner. It was that kid.. The waiter, who clutched a menu to his chest--apologizing profusely with wide brown eyes.

“You…” Patrick sneered.

“I-I’m sorry for the delay sir.. The kitchen is extremely backed up.. W-were short staffed. Feel free to order all the drinks that you need, they’re on the house.”

“Oh, you can bet that we will…” Patrick growls, stepping in closer. Each syllable is punctuated by a sharp jab to the young man’s chest.

The boy shrunk away at the blatant abuse, as color rose to his face. He continued to stammer his apologies as he kept his eyes averted and the menu nearly slipped from his grasp.

Bryce finally pulls Patrick away and into the bathroom, laughing to himself under his breath. “Fuckin kid… he’s practically begging for it.”

“What?” Patrick asks as he absentmindedly eyes his reflection in the mirror-- adjusting his tie and tilting his head. His fingers prod at his jawline. No carbs tonight…

He can hear Bryce snort obnoxiously behind the stall “Ah. god… That’s the shit right there…”

Patrick couldn’t help but roll his eyes. If anything he craved a cigar himself. He began to riffle through his pockets.

Bryce emerges from the stall looking refreshed although a bit ‘squirrely’. He runs his hands through his already slick hair, adjusting his collar in the mirror. “Alright man… wooh! Lets go…”

“What were you saying about that kid a few minutes ago?” Patrick asks absentmindedly.

“Huh?”

He begins to do a half hearted jig in the mirror, pointing at himself obnoxiously. Yeah that’s right… He was already planning on bagging his date.

Patrick grits his teeth, as he presses his hand against the knife. This is Bryce...jesus Patrick..calm down.

“You said something about that kid.. The waiter.”

“Oh yeah, he was definitely checking you out. You shoulda saw the way he was leering at you when he replaced your drink.” He shudders dramatically “It was weird man…”

Patrick could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a fine sheen of sweat forms across his brow. He knew he wasn’t imagining the way the young man looked at him as he continued to apologize profusely. He was frightened, that much he could tell. Patrick always tried his best to portray an intimidating image. The fear, for both his physical well being and the security of his job. But still, there was something else. The boy’s eyes darkened just a bit. Martin! His name was Martin.

“Whatever…” Patrick mumbles as he washes his hands at the sink,the plan already formulating in his head. He had fully intended on getting the kid fired, if not just outright gutting him in the back alley. But now a different sort of idea formed in his brain, one that might be even more rewarding.

It was less than five minutes after the two of them had resumed their seats that Martin returned with another waiter. Martin held the appetizers, the man behind him held the main dishes, the two of them swiftly began to arrange the plates on the table. Not a single mix up, each of the appetizers matched the dish and the owner. As the two waiters began to leave, Martin shot Patrick a final apologetic glance.

He was cagey, he barely even touched his steak, he only picked around at the kale and arugula salad. His mind was racing, they were all supposed to visit a club nest, how would he be able to politely excuse himself? He still couldn’t decide if he wanted to wait for him in the alley and take his frustrations out the easy way. The large serrated knife felt like a lead weight in his pocket. He bet he was even more beautiful when he was bleeding.

“So Bateman, you’re gonna tell me, you spent all your money on this shit--and you’re not even going to eat anything?!” Bryce laughed already reaching for his plate.

Patrick grips his wrist like a vice. “Touch any of it, and you’ll draw back a stump.”

Bryce yanks his hand away, quickly loosening his tie. “Hey calm down there buddy… what no Shiatzu this morning?”

“Evelyn… ask for a doggy bag or something… I’ll be right back.”

“Patrick!” Luis calls.

“Excuse me…”

Patrick managed to slip into the employee area with an ease that he didn’t expect. He grabbed an apron off a rack and tied it around himself accordingly. He even slipped on a spare face mask. In his suit and tie, he could easily be mistaken for a health inspector. He scans the hallways which for the most part appear completely empty. A door swings open and his back presses against the wall. Two large burly men carry a large slab of meat--probably a cow back to a set of double doors. He was about to step forward again, when the doors burst open. Two women wrangle a cage full of live chickens between them, following the men into the back room.

So. this was Dorsia

Patrick was just about to turn back and meet up with his friends at Levels. He should probably just let it go. Evelyn probably had a few too many and decided to take an uber home. He could schmooze with Bryce for about an hour. Get Luis too shitfaced to drive home. Then it would be just him and Courtney. That was his plan after all.

Any plans or rational thought seemed to slip from his brain the second Martin crashed in through the doors. Large silver plate in hand, it rests right up on his shoulders, he nearly drops it before placing it on the ground. He surveys The strange man’s appearance. He looks so familiar, his heart starts to race

“A- are you with the health department?” He asks. The hairs already begin to stand at the back of his neck.

“No...silly” Patrick begins to laugh as he simultaneously removes his face mask and draws the blade from his pocket. The large brandished knife seems to glint in the light. For a moment, Martin catches a glimpse of his own reflection. He instantly bolts down the hall, Patrick cusses beneath his breath as he tosses the mask to the ground.

He was quicker than he expected. Patrick was actually winded, he felt like he was nearing the end of his Monday morning aerobics class. The young man seemed to know all the ins and outs of the building,all the hidden doors and staircases. He had no idea how the two of them ended up on the roof on this exceptionally windy night.

Patrick could feel the smile play across his lips in an almost foreign upturned line. He had to pause for a moment to get himself together in the bathroom. He had just a brief snort just to keep himself up to par. He imagined he looked like a complete psychopath. Cheshire cat grin, sweating profusely all the while he continues to brandish the knife. Martin was crouched down behind the chimney, his cheek resting lightly against the brick. He looked fully resigned, simply watching Patrick as he continued to laugh and babel to himself.

“Wha--What am I doing?!” His head points towards the night sky as the knife falls from his hand. It lands onto the cement with a resounding clatter. Martin eagerly scrambles for it, before tossing it to the far side of the roof.

Patrick turns his back for a moment, quickly snorting another line from his index finger.. At this point, he had no idea how he could get past this. He had actually chased the young boy onto the roof. He had three options, he could shove him off. He could fuck him (as he previously intended) Or he could finally hurl himself off the roof. All three options began to seem increasingly appealing. Then Martin began to speak.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?”

Patrick eyes him almost quizzically. He looks like a frightened cat hiding behind a tree.

“I-- I- don’t know.”

He was being honest for once, at this point he had no idea what he wanted to do to Martin.

He can hear Martin’s nails scrape against the brick as he stands.He didn’t recall his face looking so pale, almost ghastly. His cheekbones were gaunt and pronounced.“ Well then kill me now or just let me jump…”

His eyes widen for a moment.

“Just let me jump…”

His entire body was on fire he could do nothing but aimleslessy grasp at the boy’s hair. His knife was lost somewhere in the corner, his dick was buried between two immaculate cheeks. At times a breeze would shift in, reminding him that he was completely nude on the rooftop of Dorsia. His friends were most likely already over at Level’s he didn’t mind. All that mattered were the sounds spewing from the young man beneath him. It was supposed to be torture, the harder he would yank his hair, more lewd noises spilled from his lips.

Patrick could clearly see the city below him, it would be so easily to simply toss the boy off the edge of the building. The rewarding sound of him spattering across the pavement would be too dull given the height. Various apartment lights flickered on and off like fireflies in the otherwise crisp black sky. He shifts his focus to the sight of his dick plunging into the well worked hole of his former waiter. Glistening in the light, he still couldn't get over how freely the boy offered himself over. Luis would be jealous, this was exactly what he wanted. But Patrick never desired Luis, he desired him.

A strange, sort of guttural noise alerts him once again to Martin’s existence. He layed limply against the brick, it was obvious that he had just came. His hand reaches beneath them, harshly groping at Martin’s quickly softening and over sensitive member. He ignores the boy’s pleads for him to stop, instead pistoning his hips in full. It wasn’t long before he bottoms out completely, beads of sweat drip against Martin’s back. A strong gust of air once again reminds him that he is completely bare.

He begins to dress as the waiter still lies limply against the brick. Gaping, he can see pearly white seed leaking out of him. For a moment it reminds him of Courtney, so pretty, almost perfect looking. He reaches into his pocket, drawing out a card.

He tosses it onto the young man’s back as he turns toward the fire escape. “Call me if you want. I might answer. Maybe not. I’m at work all the time”

#martin 1977 #martin 1978 #martin/patrick #martin/patrick bateman #I tried yall #I doubt it even makes sense.

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bourbonboredom · 5 years

Text

A Reason To Believe Chapter 4

Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 4,743

Warnings: none

Still don't know what I was waitin' for And my time was runnin' wild A million dead end streets and Every time I thought I'd got it made It seemed the taste was not so sweet So I turned myself to face me But I've never caught a glimpse How the others must see the faker I'm much too fast to take that test

(x)

It had been a week and a half since Rosh Hashanah. A week and a half since dinner at Elle’s, and Flip was just finishing up the last of the leftovers. He’d eaten it most nights for dinner, the Tupperware slowly leaving its shelf in the fridge for the sink once emptied of its contents. He figured he should bring the last of it for lunch though, and so he stood in the break room at work on his lunch break, heating up the meal in the microwave as his coworkers moved around him. Most were at their desks, but some lingered in the room waiting for the coffee pot to finish brewing the latest pot.

"Nice Tupperware Zimmerman," His partner, Jimmy, teased as pointed to the pink plastic lid. "Did you buy that yourself? Taking a break from plaid?"

"I borrowed it actually, your wife's been taking good care of me while you've been working late," He was used to having his coworkers shit talk one another, himself included. Jimmy just brushed it off with a chuckle.

"So you're seeing someone then? Does she know she's not getting her Tupperware back?" He asked.

"Oh, I think she will be,"

"You know that means you gotta see her again, right?"

"Yeah, that is generally how that works," He rolled his eyes.

"Flip Zimmerman, are you telling me you're dating someone?" The corners of Jimmy’s mouth turned up into a shit-eating grin as he spoke.

Flip shrugged his shoulders in response, willing the microwave to hurry up so he can leave.

"It's about time you joined the rest of us, can't be a bachelor for forever," He slapped his shoulder and walked out of the room, whistling a David Bowie song as he went.

He'd been the resident bachelor of the office for a while now, most of his coworkers were married and having kids, or already divorced. He'd listen to them complain about their lives and how hard it was sometimes and joke about trading places with Flip.

He shrugged it off, being married didn't sound to bad. It was way too early to think about anything like that with Elle though. And she said she was a feminist, did she even want to get married? He walked back to his desk and began to eat the last of the leftovers, trying to push any thoughts of matrimony out of his mind. It became increasingly hard though after eating a few bites, the leftovers tasted just as good as the first night. His mom always told him to find someone who could cook.

-----

Flip wasn't thrilled about having stakeout duty that night. It was sprung on him earlier that day by Chief Bridges, much to his displeasure. He attempted to call Elle at home, let her know he wouldn't be able to break fast with her for Yom Kippur like they planned. He gave up after about ten rings, she didn't seem to be in a hurry to pick up. He tried to recall if this was a holiday where she wasn't supposed to be using a phone, but couldn't remember. He'd make it up to her that night, bring her takeout or something. If he got off at a reasonable hour.

He and his partner were going to be helping a rookie infiltrate a rally, which was pretty slow work compared to the last few cases he was on. But at least he wouldn't be the one having to physically be in the action, he could listen from the comfort of his car, monitoring what came through the wire.

The rookie, Ron, had been working in the records room up until that day. He was the first, and only, black cop in the whole city. He admired the guy for that, but he was still pretty green to be out working on the street. But seeing as the rally was being led by a former black panther it's not like they had a ton of options in undercover officers.

He and Jimmy sat in his car across the street, listening to Ron flirt with a girl outside the venue. They shared a look of mild annoyance, hoping he wouldn't forget what he was there for. Thankfully, when it was time to listen he got every word of the speech on tape.

It was a powerful speech, he could admit it to himself. He didn't really get everything that was being said, but there was a lot of charisma and force behind the words. Once the speaker started mentioning the crowd should arm themselves against police, he felt a little funny. He didn't want to think he was a bad guy for his profession. Sure he'd seen other cops do bad things, even cops in his own precinct, but he didn't think everyone should be punished for it. He thought about it on the drive back to the station, but kept it to himself.

After debriefing the chief, he could finally head home for the evening. Luckily, he was out the door by 10:30, early enough that Elle would probably still be awake. He drove the route to her place, stopping at his favorite Chinese place to pick up some egg rolls and fried rice. He placed it in the passenger seat, listening to the radio and enjoying a cig while he drove.

He parked in front of her apartment, circling around back to take the clean plastic tubs out of his trunk and stack it with the takeout bins. He looked up at her apartment window to see it dark. He frowned to himself and extinguished his cig on the pavement. Surely she wasn't asleep already, did she go out somewhere? Did she give up on him at sundown and go out to get her own food? A twinge of guilt ran through him at the possibility. Maybe he should have tried to call her again.

Just as he was about to retreat back to his car he heard his name being called from down the street. He turned to see Elle walking toward him, in uniform. Her hair was down and nurses' cap in hand.

"Hey Trouble," He called back.

"Hey Zimmerman," She greeted as she stopped in front of him. She looked dead on her feet.

"I thought you weren't supposed to work today?"

"I wasn't. But they were seriously short staffed, I had to go in to cover for people," She didn't sound too happy about it.

"How does that work though? You aren't supposed to work. Did you eat anything then?" He was suddenly alarmed that she could have been fasting on the job.

"I had some crackers once sundown hit, I didn't have time to run out and get food after. I just wanted to get home as fast as possible-" she started.

Her eyes began to widen in realization halfway through her sentence, she let out a gasp.

"I didn't call you to tell you! Oh shit I'm so sorry, were you waiting here the whole time?!"

"No, I was held back at work, I just got here. Come on, I have takeout, you need to get some food in you," He placed his hand on her lower back and they walked toward her building.

They made their way upstairs in silence. He watched as her feet fell heavily onto the steps of the staircase, seemingly out of pure exhaustion. He also noticed she wasn't wearing the nurses' uniform from the last time he saw her in work clothes. The dress had been replaced with a long shirt and a pair of white slacks. They looked good on her, and seemed far more practical than a dress.

She opened the door to her apartment and collapsed onto the couch in her living room, prying her shoes off her feet. Flip went to the kitchen to put the Tupperware down and called to her.

"You good with egg rolls and fried rice?" He asked.

"That sounds so perfect right now," She groaned. He could have sworn he heard her stomach growl as she spoke.

"You need to eat," He called back, opening the containers and fishing out some silverware from her drawers. "Don't worry about taking too much, you need it more than I do,"

"You're the best," she all but moaned. He tried to ignore how those words made him feel.

"So what happened today that you needed to go in?" He asked.

He was met with an exasperated sigh before she began to speak,

"It's a long story. Somehow the scheduling got messed up. One of the secretaries was getting married and a bunch of the nurses are either bridesmaids or were invited and so there was basically no one there today. And that would have been fine but our patient intake was way up today, some early virus going around. I tried telling them that it was a holiday when they called but they just sounded so overwhelmed and I would have felt guilty for not coming in. It was chaotic today but we made it work. The fucking doctors were no help though."

"Remind me not to go to your hospital then," he smirked, bringing the takeout over to her.

She gratefully accepted, kissing him on the cheek as thanks as he sat next to her on the couch.

Unless you come in wearing my uniform you'll be fine. The issue was that I got in trouble for my uniform even though it's totally okay according to the employee handbook," she said between mouthfuls of eggroll.

"What? How'd that happen?"

"Well, I was looking over the dress code because I'm sick of trying to work in that damn dress and it says women can wear pants. So I went to the uniform station and spoke to the ladies to see if they had any extras laying around. And they told me they never had any to begin with! Which is crazy because if it's in the handbook we really should have it,”

“So I went to the store and bought my own pattern and fabric and made the uniform exactly to the specifications of the handbook. Using my own money, by the way, and I wore it to work today. The girls I worked with loved it, a few asked to borrow the patten, but then one of the doctors I work with told me it was inappropriate and he wouldn't work with me because the patients would find it distracting!"

"That's frustrating," he commented, taking a bit of his own egg roll.

"Oh, that's not even the end of it," she continued, holding up her index finger. "So I told him I was up to code and he couldn't say anything. And so he spent the rest of the day undermining me in front of the patients. Even when he was wrong! But it's not like I can correct him because patients always believe the doctors over us. And then I had to stay late for an emergency case. This guy was so drunk his blood might as well have been whiskey. So we revive him and once he comes to the first thing he does is grab my ass! And the fucking doctor says it my fault because of my uniform! So I'm working on a holiday, fucking starving the whole time, and I'm getting fucked over by my staff and groped! I’m not even supposed to be there!"

"That's fuckin’ shitty," he sympathized.

She threw up her hands as if to say ‘don’t I fucking know it’ before going back to eating.

"So that was my day, how was yours?"

"Pretty calm, lots of paperwork," He said as he settled into the plush fabric of the couch. He wasn't about to share his work with her fully, most was classified anyway.

"Wanna trade? I'm sure you could figure out how IVs work," She teased.

"I could accidentally stick that doctor with a needle," He teased back.

"I don't think that'd go over well. He's been there for a long time, and doesn't seem to think any of the nurses can do their job. Even though we've had to correct his work more than a few times. He once prescribed a patient a dose that could've sent her into diabetic shock," She grumbled.

"You can do his job better, and in heels," He smiled, placing a hand on her thigh, "And you look better doing it too I bet,"

"You flatter me," She put her hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze. "That takeout was delicious by the way, I might have to keep you around just for that,"

"I'm not the best at cooking, but I do know the best takeout places around," He laughed.

"I can show you how to make some stuff, cooking isn't really that hard. Just takes some time,"

"I'd like that Elle," He said, letting her rest her head in his lap, her legs curling on the arm rest.

"So did you really just do paperwork today? Are you holding out on me with juicy police stories?" She asked, looking up at him with her big brown eyes.

"That's confidential," He smiled down at her.

"Ooh, so serious," She furrowed her brow before laughing. "I get it, don't worry,"

"I'm glad. You know there's gonna be stuff I'm not going to be able to talk about. Right?"

"Ten-four, Zimmerman," She saluted. "But you do look a little dazed. Like you're thinking about something. I'm here if you wanna talk ever,"

He was silent for a beat. He wanted to open up to her, but he didn't want to bring work home with him as well. He decided talking about the issue as if it was someone else's might work best.

"One of the guys in the office was around for the Charmichael rally tonight over on the other side of town. He'd heard his speech and a lot was aimed at overthrowing police officers and making threats against us. It all seemed a little dramatic," He said hesitantly.

"That sounds a little scary. Do you think they'd do that?" She asked, letting him thread his fingers through her hair absentmindedly.

"No. Maybe. I don't know. I don't think it sounded serious from what I heard, but hearing that a whole group of people want you dead isn't great,"

"I don't think everyone does. Not everyone in every movement is going to come from the same place. I mean, did Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X agree on how to achieve black liberation?" She reasoned.

"No. But it seems like this group was more for Malcolm X,"

"Doesn't mean everybody is. Look at women's lib. People can barely agree on anything. It's a wonder we get anything done at all,"

"Really?" He didn't know anything about that.

"Oh yeah. There are so many schools of thought and so many opinions it's hard to keep track. You get women who want to burn their bras and the congress building, and women who think we should be as appealing to men as much as possible to get stuff done, and everything in between,"

"Have you burned any bras recently?"

"Mmmm, not since college," she winked at him. Cheeky.

"But you all want the same thing, right? So why can't anyone agree?"

"I mean, it's hard to explain. We all want equality, yeah. But different people have different ideas of what that looks like. I'm sure it's the same with the black liberation movement. There were plenty of Afro American women who felt left out of the big organizations back in New York. And lesbians. Equality looks different for them than it does for just your average housewives. And ignoring that can divide people,"

"I suppose you're right," He started thinking about the station and the people who worked there. "We had exclusively white male officers until about a month ago. We have a rookie on the force now. A black man. Some of the officers haven’t been very welcoming,"

"He's probably having a hard time, huh? It's hard to be the different one. especially when you’re the only different one," She adjusted her head in his lap, making sure he didn’t pull his hand away from her hair.

"I think he'll be okay, he's working hard. He'll fit in soon,"

"I hope so, but what does he think of all this? Does he know it won't always be this way for him? I can't imagine it's easy, especially with the officers giving him a hard time like you said,"

"I guess so. I've heard some comments about him from some officers. Some don't seem to think he should be there, that he's only there for diversity,"

"Is that true? Did he pass the same tests and standards that got you there? Or any other officer?"

"Yeah, and I didn't say I agreed with them," He felt the need to defend himself from her line of questioning.

"Did anyone ever give you shit about being Jewish? Can't imagine the department is overflowing with us,"

"It's not. And I don't really talk about it so I'm not sure if anyone really knows besides my partner. It doesn’t exactly come up in conversation," He explained. "Is it just you and your coworker at your job?"

"Yeep," She popped the p. "And people have been kind enough to mind their business here, but past jobs haven't been as gracious. And let me tell you, working in a place where you don't feel wanted sucks,"

"So what now then? The rookie might not enjoy being the rookie, what can be done?"

"Treat him like anyone else. You guys treat each other like brothers right? The force is a fraternity. So if someone's giving him shit, be a brother and stick up for him,"

"Maybe you should do some motivational speaking at the station," His lips held a faint smile.

"I'll hold a syringe when I do it, see if they jump higher than you did," She teased, cuddling closer to him. "And for the record, I think it's great that the CSPD is making an effort to be more diverse. Might eventually ease out some of the racism in this town,"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I just mean having an all white police force but a diverse civilian population is kinda strange isn't it? It's not exactly balanced,"

"The guys hired were hired because they were the best at the job," He defended.

"So the fact that you have your first black officer in 1972 is completely separate from the fact that the civil rights movement was less than a decade ago," Her eyebrow raised, clearly up for a debate.

"The police are there to protect citizens, were just doing our job,"

"Uh huh, that's what the police said in Germany too while upholding racist laws. Even before the war began, they openly discriminated against Jews. Did you know we weren't considered citizens after 1938? And before that, we couldn't open businesses or marry any goyim. Based on us being labeled as a different race. Just because something is a law doesn't mean it's just,"

"Yeah but that's Germany in Wold War II, everyone knows the Germans were awful-"

"Flip, listen. My parents gave up everything to get to America. They had to leave their family and friends, most of their possessions, and their almost all of their money, just to get out of a country that didn't even see them as human beings. They were harassed by police the whole way, and when they came to America it wasn't much different. They stopped speaking German because during the war people would call them traitors, they stopped speaking Yiddish in public so people would stop calling them dirty kikes. That lived in one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city, a place where police would sometimes take hours to arrive after being called because no one wanted to go there. And honestly, after 30 years, not much has changed. Police can be racist, they're just people at the end of the day and people have their own agendas. Not to accost your job, but you have to realize that to some extent."

He thought about her words, contemplating all she had said. It's hard to think what you stand for could be wrong. There were people on the police force who had messed up, hurt people on the job, but the brotherhood did their best to protect their own. It's a hard job and they tried to assume the best of people in their ranks. He didn't know things like that had happened in Germany. Sure, he learned about the holocaust but no one in his family had been though it. His family came from Russia in the late 1800s, they'd been in America for generations at this point. He'd never bothered to ask why they moved here, now he wondered if there was an underlying problem that spurred it.

"I understand what you're saying," He said carefully, his hand stilling in her hair.

"That's all I need," She spoke softly, untangling his hand from her dark curls so she could hold it. "I don't hate your job, or your coworkers, or even police. But I think it's important to acknowledge that there is a certain type of power that comes with enforcing the law that can be abused,"

"No you're right. And this is very much just a job for me. I'm not looking to take any moral high ground with anything I do,"

"Does that mean I can punch that doctor without you arresting me?" She changed the conversation to a lighter note, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Hmmm I think that's a little out of my jurisdiction," His hand dragged down to her covered thigh, giving her a little squeeze. "I do like the pants though, for the record,"

"They're just better!" She exclaimed. "I don't have to worry about bending over or running. The dress is so impractical, I always thought so. Did I tell you I got kicked out of high school for a week for wearing pants?"

It never applied to him but he remembers always seeing girls wearing dresses and skirts to school, pants were strictly forbidden for girls. He smiled at the thought of Elle walking the streets of NYC in broad daylight after being sent home.

"What a little rule breaker. I really got myself a troublemaker huh?" He pulled her up so she could sit on his lap.

"But you love it," She mused, hands running over his shoulder holster as she straddled his lap.

"I do,"

It was her lips that met his this time, her hands tangling in his hair in a way that would undoubtedly give him a few cowlicks. That could be worried about later though. All thoughts melted from his mind as her fingers ran lightly across his scalp. He caught himself letting out a small sigh at the sensation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched like that.

Her weight across his lap shifted as she eased her body closer to his, deepening the kiss. His hands found their way to rest at her waist. Her pants certainly made it easier for her to straddle him.

Her fingers found their way to the top button of his shirt, working it open as she planted kisses to his jaw. A few more buttons were released, her mouth dropping lower to pepper his neck and collarbone. He felt himself growing stiff in his jeans, the familiar headiness of lust taking over his brain.

Elle had felt him too, giving him a knowing smile as she ground down on his lap. His head tipped back until it landed on the wood paneling behind him and he let out a low groan. His hands dropped lower, cupping her ass through the tight fabric of her uniform before tugging the shirt up to find her fly.

He pulled her back into a kiss, working to pry open the buttons on the front of her uniform, her smooth skin revealing itself bit by bit to him. Finally, they were undone enough for him to tug the sleeves down her shoulders, her bra coming into full view. It was white, basic, practical. But it didn't really matter. She was gorgeous, and very encouraging. As she shrugged her shoulders to slip her uniform down, her breasts pressed together. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes and a small smile.

"Like what you see?"

"Very much," his voice reverberated in his chest as he spoke lowly. He drew his hands up her body before resting right under her bra.

"You could spend the night if you wanted," She rested a hand on the buckle of his belt, her palm pressed against his.

God, he wanted to say yes. Here he was, this gorgeous woman sitting in his lap, hand on his belt, ready and willing. How could he say no?

But he knew he had to say no.

This was moving fast. Which he was used to, usually he wanted fast. To get the job done and then move on. But he wanted to take his time with her, he didn't want to wake up in the morning and know he might never see her again. He wanted to make that clear to her, without sounding like a sissy.

"Maybe another night, Elle," He murmured.

Her face fell slightly, before pulling herself together again. She cleared her throat and started to pull herself off his lap, clearly embarrassed. He stopped her before she could move away.

"I'm not used to this," He admitted.

She waited for him to continue.

"Lets say I've had a lot of first dates, but they never make it passed the next morning," He tries to explain. "It's been a while for me, since I wanted to stick around past breakfast. And I do. Want to stick around with you, I mean. If you want me to,"

She gave him a half smile before giving him a gentle kiss. She rested her forehead on his, their noses bumping together.

"I'd like if you stuck around. We can take it slow if you want, just have a couple dates, hang out. I won't rush it. To tell the truth, i usually am too exhausted to do anything but sleep when I come home anyway,"

He chuckled, helping her shrug her uniform back up her shoulders, her bra being concealed once more as she buttoned herself up.

"I'm the same way. We have demanding jobs. But I'm willing to see if we can work this out if you are,"

"I am," She remained seated in his lap, hands running across the leather straps of his holster. “More than willing, if that’s not too forward,”

“You’re straddling my lap and I just got to second base with you, I think we’re past forward,” He smirked.

A laugh bubbled up from her throat, the genuine sound of it making him laugh too.

“Point taken,” She got up from his lap and walked across the room to throw out the empty takeout containers.

He figured he should head back soon, they both had a long day and could use some rest. His eyes flitted over to the clock, taking account of the time before his concentration was broken by her voice.

“I know its late, but I think I’m gonna watch The Late Movie before I turn in. You’re welcome to stay. I’ll keep my hand to myself, I swear,” She put her hands up by her head before turning the dial on the television set.

His mouth twisted into a half-smile. He could spare an extra hour or so, especially for her. He patted the spot next to him on the couch and she settled down next to him. He guided her head to rest on his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist. She smiled up at him before turning to catch the beginning of the film.

They sat in comfortable silence as the intro music began. Elle watched the movie intently, and Flip watched Elle. He couldn’t remember the last time he hung out with a girl after dark and it didn’t end in someones bedroom. It was definitely a change for him, but it was one he was welcome to.

---------------

NOTES

-Here’s what I imagined the Tupperware would look like. Big square containers with pink lids!

-Yom Kippur is the day of atonement after Rosh Hashanah. You are supposed to fast and reflect upon your wrong doings from the past year. This article explains things pretty simply. It would be, in fact, a day when Elle wouldn’t be answering her phone if she was home. Also, even though Elle is on the Reform end of Judaism and she’s far from her family and is separated from a community like she had back in NYC, she is still pretty determined to keep with tradition even if its just her in her tiny apartment. It’s fucked up that she felt she had to go in to work, but being part of a minority religion (especially in a predominately Christian place like Colorado Springs) can be trying. I know I’ve felt obligated to work a few holidays in the past (working on being more assertive about that at my present job).

-Nurse’s Uniforms: Pants for women was becoming much more acceptable in the 1970s workplace. Uniform pants would have just started to become a thing for nurses, and I’m sure people put up a fuss about it (because what else can be expected honestly). Let Elle wear pants! Also, getting kicked out of high school for wearing pants is inspired by this badass photo. Its from the 40′s, but women in the 60′s still couldn't wear pants to school in some places.

-Sexual harassment in the workplace (and everywhere else) was even more “normal” that it is today. The term “sexual harassment” was even credited with being invented until the mid-70s. It would be unlikely Elle would be taken seriously by any higher ups, a lot of women had to suck it up and deal with it (I absolutely do not endorse this, I advocate for shaming and making a scene if you feel comfortable with it).

-Goyim is plural for goy, which just means you’re not Jewish (and is not derogatory despite what dictionary.com has to say!)

-Elle was referring to the Nuremberg Laws in Germany when talking about her parents. They would have been subjected to a lot of laws as Jews living in Germany pre-WWII, and got out basically at the very last minute. Wikipedia explains the laws here. It’s honestly kind of weird writing a character in her position. You see a lot of literature about the actual holocaust with Jewish characters, but I didn’t find a lot of stuff about the next generation and how growing up in the 60s/70s/80s would be for them. If anyone has anything they’d like to share, I’d love to hear stories! I can only learn so much from my own family, and love to hear the experiences of others!

-I’ve said it before, but New York City in the 70s was a dumpster fire. Elle loves her city but it was really not a super safe place at the time.

-Flip’s family came in the late 1800s from Russia, meaning his family was probably escaping the Pogroms.

-The CBS Late Movie

-I really don’t think Flip would be too aware of racial situations before this KKK case. He has that quote where its ‘just a job’ to him. I don’t think he would take much consideration in to the issues people take with police, but I don’t think he would be closed off to listening to people talk about it. Also, let’s face it, the majority of people in the 1970s were still kinda homophobic. Even if he didn’t hate gay people (for my sake, were gonna say he’s fine with it) I think he’d still be susceptible to using offensive terms every once and a while, like sissy.

Thanks for reading, I know this chapter isn’t super interesting. Gotta get that character building in there, and get Flip to consider his career and how other view it!

#flip zimmerman #flip x reader #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x oc #artbmasterlist

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oopsimpregnant · 5 years

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Triage

For those of you following this blog extra close, you know I’m around eight months. So it might not surprise you folks that recently, I had my first trip to (and then back from) triage.

For those of you that don’t know - if you go to the hospital and you’re pregnant, unless you have something unrelated obviously wrong such as a snake hanging off your foot, this is where they send you. It’s a strange, small emergency room ripe with hugely pregnant people all shuffling about in the polyester sticky bottomed socks they give you when you waddle in. It is quiet, and then it’s not. And then, very quickly, it’s quiet again. It’s a waiting space. It’s not really, necessarily, an emergency room.

Let’s start from the beginning.

I woke up last Tuesday morning with a low, dull back ache and the absolutely Insatiable urge to organize all the baby things. It was five am.

I waddled quietly into the baby room, trying not to wake my boyfriend, who had work later that day. I actually also had work later that day, but it paled in comparison to this emergency - the baby stuff. The baby stuff was not, necessarily, all in its proper place. Upon reaching the baby room, it dawned on me that this was not even the beginning of the problem. The beginning, quite frankly, was the books.

My boyfriend and I are two different kinds of bookworms. He attended (and finished) several years of upper schooling dedicated to books, and has a vast collection of thick paperbacks he never returned to the school bookstore after the semester was done, either out of love or forgetfulness, both are equally likely. But with him alone - we have a library, casually academic and currently stuffed into an enormous duffel and a series of boxes of various sizes, all large.

With me, we have the fun section of the library. I attempted college several times, but never finished. Instead of reading what I was supposed to be reading, I read apocalypse novels, urban fantasy, fairy tales, alien lit.

Where is our library, in our tiny new apartment? In the baby room, of course. Still half packed away, despite the bookshelf my sister so lovingly trash picked for us, sitting empty in the living room. Or like - sitting, empty of books, stock full of magic cards, empty mugs, my boyfriend’s lost keys, and various papers.

This was ridiculous and had to be handled immediately.

I probably shouldn’t have done all that heavy lifting, but when my boyfriend awoke a few hours later, it was to me in the living room, organizing our books. He pointed out that I shouldn’t have done all that heavy lifting, and I insisted (somewhat truthfully) that I’d dragged most of the stuff out here, not ‘lifted’ it. Whatever. Whatever! The day went on.

I went to work, back still hurting, a strange pressure cradled heavily in my hips. I probably shouldn’t have done all that heavy lifting.

The work day progressed. Still pain. A deep, horrible pain, in fact. Nap time! Not for me of course, for the kids. Good. Time to sit. Sit the pain away. Because surely, that’s what would happen, right?

As soon as I had been sitting for a half hour, I finally had time to notice it - the strange, recurring clenching. My belly - there’s no other word for it - contracting around its wiggling contents. And the pain in my back, as if -

As if -

I could imagine her, suddenly, intensely. Feet on my ribs because I knew they were there, knees slightly bent, absolutely poised to rocket down and out of me, all her practice springs colliding her soft noggin with my spine.

I texted my doctor. She, I’m guessing, in an effort to cover her ass, insisted I go to triage. “That sounds like it could be premature labor” is what she actually said, in a text that clouded up my consciousness, brought cotton down over my ears and muffled the soothing snores of my preschoolers.

I went to my boss. Told her what was going on. She sighed, said, “We’re very short staffed,.” and then insisted I try rolling my back on a ball first, as if back pain was the real problem, here. Being all cotton eared, I took the ball she offered and walked in a daze back to the classroom. My coworker stared at me. I explained the ball. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” she said, right there, in the middle of our classroom.

I went back to my boss. Told her, this time, that I was going to triage. Called my aunt. Cried in the car. Felt Sookie wriggling in my belly, and it was definitely different, how had I not noticed that today it was different?

I wasn’t ready for this.

“Do you want me to pick up Jacob?” my aunt asked.

I shook my head immediately. Jacob was working. Jacob was working and this would be nothing, nothing, nothing. I was insisting to myself already that it was. My aunt sighed. Pointed out that I should text him, at least, so I did - a calm, totally not freaked out text of “Hey everything’s probably fine but Teen’s taking me to triage,” essentially.

We got to the hospital. Parked. Spent around ten minutes wandering around asking to be directed to triage, yes, prenatal triage, do you see the hugely pregnant chick behind me? No problem.

Soon as we got there, I think the nurses behind the desk diagnosed me with ‘false alarm.’ They didn’t jump to their feet immediately, at any rate, which calmed me down immensely. We were guided past a series of small, curtained off sections to our own small, curtained off section, where a hospital robe and a pair of socks waited neatly on a cot beside a series of large, intimidating machines. Also, a pee cup. I did that, and we waited.

It was at this point that Jacob must’ve gotten my text, as both our phones exploded with responses, and then he immediately called. My aunt Teen calmed him down, I told him it was probably nothing, and that’s when the nurse came in and we had to hang up.

“You look scared,” she said to me, in an accusing kind of way.

I stared at her. “I’m scared shitless,” I responded. Her face softened.

My dudes - this nurse - and, in general, everyone I met in triage - helped to calm me down immensely. Upon hearing my response, she immediately began to, oh so successfully, distract me, as she hooked me up to various monitors.

She told me first about how most of the people that come here leave an hour or two later, diagnosed ‘perfectly fine.’ When that didn’t calm me down (when it comes to bad things happening, my family’s known to assume we’re not ‘most people’), she switched tactics. Suddenly I was hearing all about all these preemie babies, all way less cooked than my Sookie, all of whom popped out, spent a little bit of time in nicu, and then went home fine. After that had calmed me down a bit, she started in on the real wild stories. Folks who had come in too late and had ended up giving birth right there in triage - babies and parents all fine, of course.

When she was done hooking me up to five different monitors, she left. And no one came back for a solid half hour.

This is apparently normal! Even in cases like mine, when labor is not imminent, they need to monitor the baby for at least a half hour before the ultrasound tech can come in and tell you what’s really up. I honestly think it was more nerve-wracking for my aunt, who was watching little Sookie boop on and off the monitor.

“She’s just moving around,” I said, when my aunt jumped at the sudden swoosh and silence. She was moving around. She must’ve gotten my burst of adrenaline at the beginning or something, cuz she was trying her best to do her old backflips within her shrinking confines.

When the ultrasound tech finally came in, she apologized for the wait, explained the half-hour thing, took me off all the monitors, and set up a grainy little ultrasound machine that would immediately tell us the real situation - the baby had dropped. Not gradually, the way I’d been told it would happen. All at once, overnight. Yup. Sookie now rests squarely on top of my bladder, head down, ready for launch.

Not only that, but she’s about twice the size I was thinking of her as. Before this point, I’d known, generally, that her feet were probably right under my right ribs. You can guess how I’d guessed that. I also kinda figured she was head down as sometimes after a little rib tap tap boosh something clearly head shaped rolls beneath the surface of my belly, down below. I think I’d been imagining her stretched out sideways, exactly that length. No.

Sookie is curled up tight in her tiny home, feet under my right ribs, head down against my bladder, knees bent, and butt under my left ribs. During the ultrasound, she held one hand over her face and the other out, as if to say ‘No pictures!’ She’s fine. Very fine. Doing everything right. We’re both fine.

I was embarrassed, but would’ve been more so if everyone hadn’t been so understanding and considerate of how nail biting of an experience this thing had been for me. In the end, it was good to confirm what I’d already known, kinda, about her positioning. It was really good to see her again, even though it was just on a grainy little ultrasound. And while the back pain and stomach clenching is just a fun new part of this experience, it’s good to learn it doesn’t mean she’s on her way to an early delivery.

Not that that would be, like. The worst thing ever. So long as she’s fully cooked, honestly.

#pregnancy #triage #pregnant #baby #babies

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malecsecretsanta · 5 years

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Merry Christmas, @shipnotised!

Read on AO3

*****

My Telltale Heart

“Wow. You look like crap.”

Alec did indeed look like crap, and he knew that; 11am was too early to start a Saturday shift in general, let alone when he’d been up until 4am writing feverishly. He still gave Duncan an incredibly unimpressed glare, though.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t do my make-up on lunch break, but I was too busy trying not to throw myself out of the window,” he said, voice as flat as his patience was thin. He ignored Lindsay in the corner, proclaiming that a “mood”.

“Well if you need make-up tips, you can always ask Magnus,” he snickered.

“Stop being a dick to him,” Lindsay said from the depths of her locker.

“Who the fuck is Magnus?” Alec asked.

“One of the new temps lol,” Duncan answered, literally saying “lol” with his mouth and

annoying Alec even more – which he didn’t think possible. “Linds thinks he’s handsome.”

“He IS handsome.”

Duncan snorted. “And obviously gay. He wears makeup. Everyone knows him already Alec, I can’t believe you don’t.”

Alec had already shut his locker – a little too forcefully after Duncan’s comment – and had started making his way out of the room, but turned to address him anyway.

“Like Lindsay said, quit being a dick.” She nodded sagely in the background, validated. “He probably looks better in makeup than you do without. Besides, I never usually learn people’s names unless they’re obviously going to stay and be important to me. But maybe I’ll make an effort for this Magnus – what do you think, Dennis?” He smirked and shrugged lightly before leaving the room and getting back to work. He distinctly heard Lindsay’s laughter behind him.

It was a Saturday though, and he was entirely too busy to give this mysterious Magnus much thought in amongst mentally ranting at every asshole who thought it was okay to leave half empty coffee cups all over his shop. He ran the whole mens floor more often than not, which was fine, he could handle that. What wasn’t fine was the absolute clowns he had been saddled with that day. Surely, it wasn’t that hard to read a label and work out where, roughly, an item belonged? It was fortunate that all the tills were staffed so he wasn’t needed there. He fucking hated the tills.

Obviously, the two new kids with him that day just had to leave dead on time, leaving him to effectively close up the entire floor on his own. By the time 10pm rolled around, he was cursing under his breath. Was it so hard for people to put things back where they’d gotten them from?

“As wonderfully colourful as you’re painting the air, can I offer any assistance?” came a voice from behind him, making Alec realise that his muttering hadn’t been quite as under his breath as he’d thought. He turned, either to justify himself or apologise – he hadn’t quite decided – but the words caught in his throat once he’d saw the owner of the voice. It was quite a voice, and this man was quite the owner. He made the simple all black uniform requirement look haute couture, with a brocade waistcoat over the plain button up shirt, and rings that looked far nicer than anything on display in the jewellery counter on the floor below.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” said the beautiful man, offering a hand out to Alec. “I’m Magnus.”

“Alec,” he offered as freely as his smile. He fumbled with the multipack of socks he was still holding before taking Magnus’s hand, holding it perhaps a little longer than strictly necessary. It didn’t seem like Magnus minded.

“We should- are you sure? It’s late,” Alec stumbled out eventually.

“I’m positive. If it’s late for me, then it’s late for you too, Alec.”

“Thank you,” he conceded. “It’s just the rest of this-“ he gestured vaguely to the area around him – “to do.”

There was truthfully only about another half hours work in it for him, but with Magnus assisting him in comfortable silence, they were done in under fifteen. Alec took a moment to slyly check whether he’d have to stay a little longer just to make sure the sections he hadn’t done himself were acceptable – Magnus was new, and Alec had high standards – but it was with relief that Alec noted Magnus clearly knew what he was doing.

“Do you have to get someone to check before we leave?” Magnus asked.

“Normally, yeah, but they trust me to get it right. Thank you, Magnus, I really appreciate it,” Alec said, with a sincerity his colleagues rarely got to hear.

“Well, you definitely don’t look a damsel, but I can’t resist aiding someone in distress,” Magnus said succinctly, with a twinkle in his eye that intrigued Alec. He didn’t make friends that easily, but there was something about Magnus that he really couldn’t quantify. He felt like they could be very good friends, and he found that, unlike himself, he wasn’t averse to trying.

“I’m this way,” Alec indicated, once they’d signed out and left the store. The early November air was biting at this time of night, his ears an unfortunate victim.

“Ah, I’m the opposite. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“No, I got lucky and get Sundays off. Monday?”

Magnus grimaced. “I’m a student, I can only work weekends unfortunately. I guess I’ll see you next week then, Alexander.”

The use of his full name startled him, though not as much as the realisation that he didn’t mind it when it came from Magnus. “Yeah, Um, how did you-“

“Lucky guess,” Magnus smiled. “Do you mind it?”

“I think I’ll let you call me that,” Alec smiled back. “Good night, Magnus.”

“Good night, Alexander.”

And so it was that they spent every Saturday lunch break together. Alec was always scheduled for the long shift, and while Magnus’s shifts only ever started as soon as Alec’s breaks would finish, he was always around an hour early. Alec asked him about it, and Magnus shrugged.

“My lunch options are more varied around here,” he said.

Alec asked Magnus a lot of things, and answered just as many. He took Magnus to Taki’s, a little nearby diner that did amazing spanakopita and other Greek pastries. Thalia, the old lady running the place, had long taken a shine to Alec and insisted on giving him free treats – he accepted, purely on the basis that he’d sneak a good tip in when she wasn’t looking. She knew, and he knew she knew, but they didn’t speak about it. What was important was that she took a great liking to Magnus too, especially when he spoke to her in broken Greek.

“You speak Greek?” he asked, on their first visit there.

“Only a little,” Magnus conceded. “I speak a few other languages somewhat fluently, and figured since I’m good at them, I may as well learn them.”

It turned out that Magnus knew Spanish, French, and Italian (“once you’ve got one romance language down you’ve basically got the others”), a little Greek, a little Dutch, and was fluent in Indonesian. Alec found out that Magnus was actually from Indonesia, though moved as a young teen to America to live with his father. He eventually moved to New York when he refused to join the “family business” – whatever that was, Magnus never specified – and was a grad student studying particle physics now.

Alec, in turn, told Magnus about his family, about sharing an apartment with his siblings and he and Jace working so Izzy could focus on med school. He told Magnus about his mother and Max, trying to help how they could even though they were left with very little after Robert left them. He even told Magnus about Robert, about him being that cold kind of homophobic that tolerated him, but did not accept him.

They spent one memorable Saturday at the very start of December discussing books. Alec didn’t usually allow himself to get carried away in conversation, sweeping hand gestures punctuating his words, but he was talking about something he loved and – well. He trusted Magnus enough to be himself with him, to live a little more freely – similar, but even more so, to how he was with Izzy and Jace.

“I just- stories are such an inherently human art, you know? The best stories echo through time in their original forms simply because humans don’t change all that much, despite era or culture. That’s the goal,” he rambled. Magnus frowned a little, head tilting, and Alec thought that it might have been the cutest thing he’d ever seen a person do – and Max was a cute child.

“Do you write, Alexander?” he asked. Alec froze.

“I-“ he licked his lips, and leaned in. Magnus did the same, and Alec lowered his voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but… yeah. I do. Not even Jace and Izzy know. I don’t know why I don’t tell them, it’s not like I’ll ever get published, but…”

“It’s nice to have something for yourself,” Magnus finished.

“Yeah,” Alec smiled. “You read my mind. Maybe one day, I’ll put it out there, but for now,” he simply shrugged.

“If you ever decide to put your writing out there, I’ll be first in line. Knowing you, I have no doubt it’ll be incredible.”

The sheer belief that Magnus had in him, the trust after only four weeks, broke something down in Alec that he had no idea he’d even built. Suddenly, he wanted Magnus to know him like no one else – or maybe, it wasn’t sudden at all.

He leant down, rummaging around in the small bag he brought with him and pulling out his tattered cheap notebook, flicking it to the most recent page. He carried it with him to work, favoured green pen tucked into the spiral binding, in case inspiration struck him while commuting or on break (he would always leave the store on lunch, even Before Magnus – and wasn’t it something, that Alec was separating his life into Before Magnus and After Magnus?). Alec mostly wrote fiction, short stories, poured out his frustrations and lived his wildest dreams in them, and yet, on that morning’s train, he’d found himself hit with a three-quarter formed idea and rushed to scribble it down.

It was a sonnet, structured like Shakespeare’s ones, and its underlying tone was… hopeful. New beginnings, new bonds, change that was welcome. He consciously made another change now, in sliding the notebook over to Magnus.

“This came to me on the train this morning, so uh – I don’t know if it’s any good. But I trust you to be honest with me if it sucks,” he laughed nervously, hands starting to rub themselves nervously without a conscious thought.

Magnus was silent as he read, and though he read quickly, it seemed to Alec like a whole hour passed, rather than a minute. He watched Magnus read, watched his eyes widen, until Magnus looked up at him with a look on his face of… awe?

“Alexander,” he said, voice hushed. “This is incredible.”

“You… think so?” he replied, blush beginning to rise. Magnus nodded.

“You have a real skill for words, darling. None of the languages I speak could be as beautiful as your own.”

Alec smiled, a soft shy thing, as he gently took the notebook back from Magnus and closed it. He felt impossibly light, a burden he hadn’t realised was weighing on him as much as it had relieved.

“We have to go back now, but – it’d be nice to talk about writing with someone. Can I text it to you, sometime?”

“Absolutely,” grinned Magnus, exchanging numbers with Alec as they walked back to work.

Alec realised, two Sundays after he’d first gotten Magnus’s number, that he had no idea if Magnus was coming to that night’s work Christmas party. He certainly had never made his intentions of going clear, and now Magnus was already at work, so he couldn’t just ask.

Parties weren’t often Alec’s thing, but he did enjoy them now and then, and it wasn’t as if he hated his colleagues or anything. He just felt… out of place. To be perfectly honest, he felt that way most of the time, except around his family, while writing, or with Magnus.

Perhaps it should scare him, that Magnus felt a little like belonging. It didn’t.

He dressed reasonably appropriately for the night, tan wool overcoat and beanie part of his outfit, not just accessories, and charcoal shirt with the top few buttons undone despite the cold. He’d been something of a boring dresser once, before he’d come out, all large sweaters and baggy jeans – but now, while fashion still didn’t speak to him as such, he knew what he liked and how to dress and wore sharp, clean, well-fitting clothes. It wasn’t even a conscious decision, really, but the internet always said you dressed better after coming out and he supposed that had happened to him as well.

He wasn’t out out, but he wasn’t hiding anything either. It was no one’s prerogative to know everything about him unless he wanted them to.

Ten to eight, Alec found himself sat with a bunch of his colleagues waiting for those who had just finished work to join them. Magnus wasn’t already there, and he hoped that he would be showing up with the others, else Alec would probably just head home after the meal and text Magnus all night instead.

That was what they usually did, anyway.

He needn’t have considered alternate plans, though – as Magnus strolled in with the latecomers looking like an untouchable god.

He’d shaved, for a start, and put dark pink highlights in his hair – he’d not had them yesterday at lunch – and he wore a stunning crushed red velvet blazer. Red was certainly Magnus’s colour, Alec thought. He didn’t think about the fact that he noticed how tight Magnus’s pants were, or the fact that Alec couldn’t take his eyes off his friend.

Magnus seemed to be looking for something, and Alec began to stand to greet him, which led Magnus to look his way. He smiled at the sight of Alec, and Alec smiled back, heart leaping, as Magnus made his way over.

“Got you a drink,” Alec said, indicating the two on the table in front of him.

“After that day, I certainly need one. Thank you, Alexander,” said Magnus, resting his hand on Alec’s shoulder as he leant to pick up the drink. “Dark and Stormy?” Alec shrugged.

“It sounded nice, so I thought I’d try it.”

“Good choice, darling. Shall we go be seated?”

They managed to sit next to each other throughout the whole meal, and while Magnus entertained those in the vicinity – like a king holding court, Alec thought, all his subjects enthralled and enamoured – most of their attention was on them alone.

The food was decent, surprisingly good for the place they were in, and the free drinks meant the empty glasses began accumulating steadily. The air buzzed with merriment, and even Alec was laughing freely.

“Hey, everyone’s heading down to Pandemonium now,” Magnus whispered into Alec’s ear.

“Mmm? Are you going with?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to stop by a store, get some cheap wine, and come back to mine.”

Alec grinned. He wanted nothing more.

Magnus’s place was huge. A penthouse full of oddities and books and incredible art, for a grad student? Even Tipsy Alec was confused by it all, and Tipsy Alec was so much more of a dumbass than Sober Alec. As Magnus closed the door behind them, coming forward to take the bag from Alec’s hands, he noticed the expression on Alec’s face and seemed to read his mind.

“This place is the one gift I accepted from my father. I had… a sizeable trust fund, all legally in my name, nothing he could do about it, and I used it to buy this place after I’d left. I didn’t want to touch his money, but he never wanted me to come here, so - it seemed like a perfectly good ‘fuck you’.”

“It’s a pretty good fuck you, as fuck yous go. You know, I’m surprised you don’t like parties,” Alec said.

Magnus waved his hand nonchalantly. “Oh, I love parties. I’d just much rather hang out with you.”

And fuck, if that weren’t something right there.

Magnus and Alec found themselves sharing just one bottle of wine, far too busy talking to drink, simply enjoying each other’s company when not talking, enough that alcohol simply wasn’t necessary. As a fire crackled in the grate in front of the seating area, Magnus showed Alec his books, told wild travel stories for each trinket, regaled Alec with stories that while they could be those he told when winning friends and captivating hearts, Alec just knew that these were for him and him alone. Magnus had just told a story from his youth where he pretended to be his own father to get out of detention, and that it had somehow worked despite it being a face-to-face conversation, and Alec couldn’t stop giggling, which seemed to set Magnus off laughing too.

“Gods, I was such a little brat when I was with him. Still would be, probably, had I not met Cat and Ragnor and left.”

“Was it hard to leave? With your dad doing… whatever it is he does.”

Magnus’s eyes narrowed quizzically, but warmly. “My father owns a pharmaceutical company that jacks up the prices of literally everything. What did you think he might do, Alexander?”

“Honestly, thought he might be a mob boss, but that’d probably be better,” Alec said. “I see why you want to distance yourself from him.”

“Mmm. You’re one of three people who know about him, here.”

“I’m- Cat, Ragnor, and… me?” Magnus nodded at Alec’s incredulous tone.

“I trust you,” he said, warm brown eyes unwavering from Alec’s own.

“Thank you. For what it’s worth, and this may be selfish, but I’m kinda glad it led you here.”

“Yeah?” asked Magnus, twisting his body round so that he was sat cross legged on the couch, back resting against the arm and facing Alec, who was sprawled out so that his torso lay on the couch, head on the arm rest, and longs legs bent resting on the floor. “Be selfish for a second for me. Why?”

“If you hadn’t realised what a jerk he was, you wouldn’t be in New York. And if you hadn’t cut yourself off… you wouldn’t have needed a job to support you. And I wouldn’t have met you. I’m sorry, if that’s rude, but… I’m really glad I met you,” Alec steamrollered, knowing that if he didn’t get it out now he might never do it again out of stubbornness.

“I’m really glad I met you too, Alexander. Makes being yelled at for not returning things from last year worth it.” Magnus laughed softly then, and so did Alec, a shared experience joining them. Magnus heaved a sigh then, and Alec furrowed his brow.

“Alexander… how drunk would you say you are? I’m completely sober, unfortunately.”

Alec took a second to ponder it, but he needn’t have – they’d been sat there for a few hours, and were only halfway through their shared bottle of wine. The only thing he was intoxicated by was Magnus’s presence, the warmth radiating from him that had little to do with actual temperature and everything to do with the comfort and serenity that Magnus brought him.

“If it makes you feel better about it, I’m completely sober too,” Alec said. “But that’s okay. Being here at 2am is way more fun than any club could be.”

“Good, I’m glad you – that’s good. Alexander, tell me if this is too forward, but…” Magnus trailed off, eyes closed and breathing deeply, as if to steady himself.

“But what?”

Magnus shook his head, and swallowed, before he leant down and forward and pressed his lips to Alec’s.

It was relatively chaste, all things considered, but Alec felt his world turn on its head. Magnus tasted of wine, and chocolate, and home, and Alec closed his eyes and let himself feel. His lips were soft, and as Alec chased them, it hit him that he was halfway to falling in love with the man, and he hadn’t even noticed that that was what it was.

They separated, yet Magnus didn’t go far; Alec opened his eyes to see Magnus still hovering a few inches over him, his own eyes gazing into Alec’s own. Alec’s lips quirked into a smile.

“That was-“

“Yeah,” Magnus breathed out, and returned Alec’s soft, shy smile with one of his own, to which Alec, surprising himself with his boldness, rose up and kissed again.

The difference this time, as they sat up together, was that they could barely stop smiling to really kiss, but neither cared. Their laughter mingled between them in the firelit room, Alec’s admission that he’d never been kissed before at 24 simply encouraging Magnus to kiss him more, barely noticing when the embers started to settle, tangled up in each other on the couch with this new thing between them, that had somehow always been present.

“Stay the night, Alexander? It’s late, we don’t have to do anything, just… stay?”

“Magnus, there’s- there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

No one commented on the spring in Alec’s step the next morning, and he was grateful; he didn’t exactly want to tell them he’d been woken up with a kiss from a man who made his heart sing, after falling asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. That was his alone to rejoice in.

The next two weeks were much the same as their last five; a whirlwind of texts and soft smiles when their eyes met at work, among the many “no, we’re all sold out of those now” to people who left their Christmas shopping until a week before the date and were surprised everything had gone – like it didn’t happen every year. The only difference was that now they held hands over the table at Taki’s as they spoke, Thalia beaming at them whenever they stole kisses while sharing pastries. They didn’t notice that, though.

They spoke more about dating, than before; previously, Alec had always carried a small burden of shame that he’d never been in a relationship, but Magnus, with all his experience in good and bad relationships, never treated it as a set back in any way. He had a knack for making Alec feel comfortable in his own skin.

“I’m covering a shift tomorrow, by the way,” Alec said, after a few minutes of silent contemplation. Magnus quirked an eyebrow.

“My last day,” he said. “Can’t say I’m sad, but the place did bring me you, so…”

Alec snorted. “Run while you still can. I’ll just miss seeing you at lunch every Saturday.”

“Well, I still have Saturdays free. I see no reason why I can’t still meet you every so often – it might do me good to get out of the house and work on my paper.”

“Yeah?” Alec grinned, indescribably happy. Neither of them had defined what was between them yet, and that was okay; it was like they were still the best of friends, with the added bonus of kissing, and yet Alec was still surprised that Magnus, beautiful, kind, intelligent Magnus, wanted to spend time with him, read his writing and told him it was masterful, urged Alec to be a better version of himself simply by being there.

“Yeah,” Magnus grinned back. “Also we should go back.” He laughed at Alec’s groan.

“Ah ah ah!” they heard Thalia shout as they left the café. Alec turned, curious; it’s not as if they’d forgotten to pay – had they left anything? “Look above, just for you two loves,” she yelled happily.

Magnus chuckled. “Mistletoe, Alexander. Shall we?”

Alec laughed, and leant in, and made a note to ring Thalia later and leave his number, so she could send him the photo she very obviously took.

Sunday was like every Sunday, but times ten; he’d agreed to cover someone in the ladies department for a change of pace, and was kinda wishing he hadn’t. He had, at least, made plans with Magnus to get dinner and spend the night, which powered him through the chaotic day.

Before they could escape however, Jia, the store manager, gathered everyone around the doors. Alec groaned inwardly. He’d forgotten that she did this every year, giving them all a speech about how high the quality of seasonal staff was, and how it being the 23rd it was most of their last days anyway, and blah blah blah. Alec mostly tuned it out in favour of his favourite activity – looking at Magnus.

“Gonna miss your lunch date, Lightwood?” Duncan called out once Jia had apparently finished, laughing, though nobody laughed with him. Alec smiled, knowing exactly what he had to, and wanted to, do. He lifted his arm to embrace Magnus shoulders as he moved to his side, not needing words to know what Alec planned, arm snaking around Alec’s waist and hand settling comfortably on his hip.

“Well, now we’re no longer co-workers – I guess Magnus’ll just have to settle for being my boyfriend instead, huh?” Alec raised an eyebrow, daring Duncan to say anything. By the look of his reddening face, he had nothing, suitably ashamed by the smiles on every other associates faces – even Jia cracked a smile, and Alec thought he heard Simon whooping as Magnus pulled his face in for a quick, yet tender, kiss.

“We’ll just have to go on more actual dates, I suppose… boyfriend,” Magnus said to him as they left, Magnus for the last time as a staff member.

They’d agreed not to get each other gifts, Alec thought; and had ended up giving each other the best gift they could possibly have gotten. Alec had a boyfriend for Christmas for the first time ever, and as he held him close, Alec resolved that he’d never let him go.

#shipnotised #malecsanta18 #*fics18 #*gifts18

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ambitionsource · 5 years

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AMBITION Season 1 ♫ “Stripped” [ 1.06 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows)

NOTHING BUT THE BEAT – In Lucas’s absence, Shawn and Angela give the techies a break by declaring all numbers acoustic for the duration of the week. Farkle can’t get a grip on the assignment. Zay fights a creeping sense of isolation.

45 Minutes (7.5K words) || No warnings apply.

[ ← Extra, Extra ] [ S1 Synopsis ] [ Black, The Color Of Techies Scorned → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

A brand new week. ANGELA MOORE is standing in front of the seats, looking up at her stage with a certain sense of apprehension. But she claps us in anyway. Five, six, seven, eight…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Puttin’ On the Ritz” as performed by Young Frankenstein Original Cast || Performed by AAA Sophomores

FARKLE MINKUS kicks off the number performing in the Victor Frankenstein role, and MAYA HART and ZAY BABINEAUX soon joining him for the first third. It seems like a perfectly normal performance, and there’s nothing ambitious or off-putting about it. In fact, with their combined stage presence and star power, it’s a rather enjoyable little number.

That is, until the dance break.

When the dance break kicks off and all of the performers filter onto the stage (Wyatt noticeably absent, of course), the number kicks up a notch. The dancing is intense, for one, but the strain that truly begins to show is how hard the techies are working to keep up with the overzealous staging requirements.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Yes, it’s the first full week of Lucas’s suspension, and his absence is being felt throughout the entire techie brigade. ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is in Lucas’s usual seat with headset on, trying to keep everything from falling apart, but considering she had a rather difficult week herself not so long ago, she’s not in top form and seconds away from a break down. She snaps commands into the headset instead, definitely not spreading an aura of confidence.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

While the tap dancing continues, the techies are running around frantically backstage in an effort to keep the production aspects of the number afloat. ASHER GARCIA gets so overwhelmed and out of breath that he faints, DYLAN ORLANDO barely managing to catch him in his arms. JADE BEAMON has had to step up and work as a stagehand, but it’s totally out of her comfort zone so she’s not much help.

NATE MARTINEZ and DAVE WILLIAMS are in charge of moving a rather large set piece at the end of the number, but several circumstances prevent the transition from being ready in time. Instead, as the tapping comes to a thrilling conclusion, Dave ends up tripping on a section of curtain rope and brings the whole back curtain tumbling down.

It startles the performers, all of them shrieking and jumping out of the way. They hadn’t even noticed how much the techies were struggling. Angela claps, reluctantly, before insisting they all disband for a break.

Angela: Davis, you’re not injured are you?

[ Nate and Jade have dug Dave out of the mountain of curtain. He’s dazed, but gives her a thumbs up. ]

Angela: Oh, good. Because our insurance definitely wouldn’t have covered that.

Cue title sequence.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Angela and SHAWN HUNTER are eating lunch together, managing a much better rapport than they’ve displayed the last few episodes. It is clear they are taking their agreement to put their feud aside seriously, and both quite willingly. If anything, they seem perfectly content to spend a lunch hour in each other’s company.

Shawn nods along as Angela describes the train wreck they just watched unfold, and he claims he’s not surprised. Given everything that happened last week and the current absences, they’re going to be a bit off-kilter.

Shawn: I know he doesn’t come off this way, but Lucas is more of a leader than you’d expect. If anything, he does a good job of keeping everybody in line. It’s not a shock to me that the train is sliding off the track without that discipline.

Angela: Even with Isadora?

Shawn: Isadora is brilliant, but she’s got her own shit to deal with after last week. Thrusting the entire operation of the crew on her shoulders maybe isn’t the best idea right now, regardless of how capable she typically is.

Angela doesn’t have any arguments against that. She accepts it, instead attempting to problem solve how they’re going to handle the next week if circumstances are going to remain out of the ordinary. Shawn states that his main goal is just to keep his kids from falling apart any more than they already have, so if the performers could cut them some slack that would be great.

This actually seems to give Angela an idea. She nods along, promising him that she thinks she can do him one better. When they exchange a look and Angela gives him a knowing, mischievous smirk, it’s evident that there’s definite romantic tension between them reignited again. Wonder if that’s gonna go anywhere…

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Zay is sitting at the usual table with CHARLIE GARDNER, YINDRA AMINO, and NIGEL CHEY. Only now, Maya has joined their ranks as well. The group of them gab on and on about their afterschool plans, how they spent the weekend, etc., Zay mostly just half-listening and not exactly contributing to the conversation.

When Maya lobs the question of afterschool plans towards him, he sort of shrugs it off and doesn’t have much to offer. He claims he has a lot of rehearsing to do, and they don’t question it because after all, Zay is the most popular student in their class. Of course, he’s a busy, busy man.

Zay is like ha ha, yeah, and don’t you forget it… but as the conversation drifts to another topic, his smile sort of fades as he focuses back on his food.

INT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Rather than sitting at the usual table, RILEY MATTHEWS is seated outside in the lunch courtyard with Isadora. It’s the same table where Lucas and Riley escaped to get fresh air in the previous episode, and apparently where the techies prefer to sit when it’s not frigid outside. In this case, it allows them some distance from the scene of the crime of last episode.

Riley attempts to get a read on how Isadora is feeling, but it’s difficult to tread without coming off like she’s treating her differently. Isadora is like could you chill, I’m fine, I will be fine, which Riley takes as her cue to tone down the concern a little bit. She also has other curiosities on her mind, so she shifts gears to that instead.

Riley: So, um… have you talked to Lucas? How is he handling the suspension?

Isadora: I don’t know. We haven’t talked much.

Riley: Is everything okay? Between you two?

Isadora: No, yeah, we’re fine. It’s just that when he’s not around, like right there in front of you… I don’t know. He can be hard to get a hold of.

Riley does not like the sound of that, but she doesn’t question it further. Isadora changes the subject, the two of them continuing to pick at their lunch.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Returning back to class, Shawn and Angela stand together on the stage and announced their weekly assignment. Performers will be choosing acoustic songs only for the duration of the week. This is to stretch their natural ability and wean them off the reliance on props and spectacle, but also to give the techies a bit of a breather.

The performers, particularly the divas, are not happy about this decision. If they’re not being flashy, what is their purpose? Farkle tries to plead for help.

Farkle: This is an outrage. It’s a joke. Ms. Moore…

Angela: I’m with Hunter on this one. [ off Farkle’s disgusted reaction ] We all could do with a little refocusing, and it’ll be easier for everyone involved.

Maya: For the whole week?

Angela: The techies are short-staffed –

Farkle, in disbelief: They’re missing one person!

Dave: It feels like more. :(

The mandate has been delivered, and despite Farkle’s greatest protests, it doesn’t seem like it’s going to change. Zay, like usual, finds all of their whining and moaning over the whole thing to be ridiculous.

Zay: You’ve all become so reliant on razzle-dazzle you’ve forgotten how to actually perform. Or maybe you just never had it in the first place.

Farkle: Oh, like you’re so much better. You’re no more prepared than the rest of us.

Zay: You think so, huh? It’s fine, I can show you the ropes.

Zay hops up onto the stage, pointing to Charlie in the audience. He beckons him up with him, directing him towards the piano as his acoustic accompaniment. Charlie’s surprised, but not opposed to the singling out, and happily jumps up to help.

Zay: [ over his shoulder, to Charlie ] You’ll keep up.

Charlie: [ bemused, but also kind of charmed ]

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Perfect Places (Acoustic)” as performed by Eden Mary || Performed by Zay Babineaux (feat. Charlie Gardner)

The performance is simplistic and stripped down, but just as engaging as ever. Zay oozes natural stage presence, and his vocals with Charlie’s piano skills aren’t a bad match. As the performance goes on, Charlie glances up numerous times from the keys to smile at him from behind.

Angela sort of dances along, evidently pleased that someone seems to be taking well to the assignment. The other performers seem to be coming around as well, save for Farkle. He’s grumpy throughout, obviously not thrilled with this new development.

INT. JACK’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Shawn is joining JACK HUNTER for dinner, keeping up with their usual monthly half-brother meal. The two of them discuss what’s going on with their respective ends of the school, Shawn explaining their acoustic mandate of the week while Jack updates him on the progress he’s making of trying to figure out who is running AAA Confessions – which is to say, little progress.

Shawn empathizes, as part of the reason the Insta is so successful is because of the anonymous and hands-off way it operates. They didn’t have anything like this when they were teenagers. Especially because regardless of who is running the account, they’re not the ones making every post – anyone who submits a post is liable in some regard.

Still, they’re not without potential suspects. After rattling off some student names they narrow down to their three prime kids with motive – Farkle, Maya, and Lucas.

Shawn rules out Farkle, stating that while he’s definitely insane, he doesn’t have the time to spare doing something like that when he’s so obsessed with being front and center all the time. He hardly sees him on his phone. They also both agree that Maya isn’t all that likely a culprit either, as she wants the opportunities at AAA more than anything and would never do something so stupid that could jeopardize everything (hence, her squeaky clean appearance).

Lucas is a little trickier to unpack. Even Shawn, his biggest defender, can’t deny that he has blatant motive just because of how much he resents being at the school. Not to mention, the techies are rarely featured. Still, Shawn points out that Lucas would never throw Isadora under the bus like with what happened last week.

Jack doesn’t take much arguing, as he doesn’t believe it’s Lucas. Shawn is admittedly a bit surprised by this, but as always, Jack has clearly thought things through.

Jack: It’s not that I don’t see the motive, believe me, I see enough of it every day. But I’ve also been reprimanding him for almost two years now, and this kind of behavior… it’s just not his mode of operation. He acts the way kids at our school did growing up, you know – reckless, hotheaded, choice actions –

Shawn: You can say you’re talking about me, dear brother of mine. It’s okay. I can take the shade.

Jack: [ ignoring him ] This Instagram stuff, it’s too methodical. Too much maintenance involved. Not to mention, there’s no way Lucas cares enough about his fellow students to orchestrate something like this.

Jack goes on to highlight the situation from the week prior, highlighting that Shawn is right – considering the reasons he started the fight with Wyatt, he has a difficult time believing he would do something so cruel to Isadora. Even if it’s a convenient cover.

Jack: I’m not saying he isn’t a troublemaker – it would be impossible to say such a bold-faced fallacy. [ off Shawn’s expression ] But I don’t know, the whole situation with Miss De La Cruz and how things have been this past year… I feel like I’m not getting the full picture. Like there might be more under the surface in this case that I haven’t considered.

Shawn isn’t going to argue with that – he’s been there himself. And while they both feel pretty confident ruling him out as an AAAC suspect, that just puts Jack back at square one and empty-handed.

Jack switches gears instead, turning the conversation to Angela. He’s definitely noticed the new tension that has blossomed between them. Shawn claims that things are better as far as work, but Jack isn’t asking about work. He questions whether Shawn wants to go down this road again with someone as talented (and flighty) as Moore, but he deflects and claims nothing is going to happen anyway. She’s a star, and he’s a deadbeat. That’s all there is to it.

Jack doesn’t look convinced, taking a pointed bite of his food.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - NIGHT

Speaking of Instagram, that’s what Zay is focusing on as he lazes around at home. He scrolls through his feed, looking at all the photos of his classmates being social and seemingly having the time of their lives as Instagram is wont to put forth. And there he is, sprawled on his living room couch and hanging out with his family.

He’s evidently just finished lamenting the situation to his mother, DONNA BABINEAUX. His sister JADA BABINEAUX (20), sophomore at the Fashion Institute of Technology, is also there to chime in with sarcasm and jaded twenty-year-old wisdom.

Aside from Zay’s isolation, Donna comments on one of the other factors that might be contributing to his feelings of isolation with disbelief.

Donna: I have a hard time believing that there is not one other boy at that school who deviated from the straight and narrow path of sexuality.

Zay: Unfortunately, the ones that have are either taken or idiots. Or both.

Jada: What about that kid with the weird name? The obnoxious Jewish one who wears blazers even on casual Friday.

Zay: Farkle? You want me to befriend Farkle?

Jada: I’m just saying, anyone that dedicated to a suit jacket and the career of Rachel Berry can’t be straight.

Her wisdom doesn’t stop there.

Jada: Don’t worry. Once you get to college, everyone is so concerned with labeling themselves and exploring their identities that you won’t even be able to keep up with all the eligible men suddenly in your reach.

Zay: Charming.

But all that isn’t really what Zay is stuck on anyway. The romance stuff, he can wait on – but it’s getting real isolating up at the top. Considering he’s the most popular student in his grade, in theory, he should be blowing up with requests to hang out. And yet.

Donna suggests that Zay reach out to some of his friends outside of AAA. Limiting himself to the same artistic crop of people might be doing more harm than good – maybe he’s just got a little cabin fever. He shrugs the suggestion off, but there might be merit to the idea. He contemplates as he continues to scroll through that daunting, isolating Insta feed…

INT. MATTHEWS’ APARTMENT - NIGHT

The Matthews family doesn’t operate with nearly the same comfort as the Babineaux clan. Their family dinner is quiet, heavy with a weird kind of tension. CORY MATTHEWS and TOPANGA MATTHEWS won’t even look at each other, which AUGGIE MATTHEWS doesn’t notice but Riley clocks immediately.

She tentatively explains that she probably won’t be around much this week, as she’s going to be hanging out with friends from school. Cory seems concerned by this, wondering who the friend is and when she thinks she will be home – operating with more protectiveness than maybe necessary. Topanga, on the other hand, abruptly cuts him off and tells Riley to have fun.

The look Cory shoots her is yet another red flag. Riley is dying of curiosity (and dread), but she opts to avoid whatever may be coming around the bend for her and just follow Topanga’s directive. She focuses back on her food. As the ukulele of “Riptide” floats in…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Riptide” as performed by Vance Joy || Performed by Charlie Gardner (feat. Nick Yogi & Dave Williams)

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Charlie performs an upbeat and energetic rendition of the chart topper as his assignment, Dave providing the ukulele backing and Yogi backing him on harmonies. It’s a nice upturn compared to the heavy acoustic that permeates most of the episode. As he dances around with the microphone stand, a montage launches us through the rest of the students attempting to figure out what their performances are going to be.

Farkle is struggling the most with the assignment. He runs through dozens of concepts, creating mood boards for each of them – all too complicated or flashy to qualify for a stripped down week. Angela continuously vetoes them. He’s going to lose his mind.

Shawn meets with the techies on the stage while the performers are in the black box, seated with them on the floor. He explains that given the nature of this week and the absence of their usual work, it has been requested that each of them perform a number as well. This earns a predictable uproar, but Shawn attempts to placate their panic by assuring them that they will only have to perform for one another, not the performers.

When they’re still not convinced, Shawn points out that the stakes are subterranean levels of low and they just need to get it out of the way. As they’re dismissed, Dave shakes his head.

Dave: You all are damn lucky Lucas isn’t here. That man would never stand for this.

A fair point, but then Lucas is not there is he? So the assignment stands.

INT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Isadora gives this update to Riley, who is far more enthused by the possibilities than she is. She immediately offers to help her practice, guaranteeing her they’ll find the perfect number for her to perform. She basically clears her entire schedule. It’s obvious that Isadora appreciates the help, but is pointedly uncertain over how she feels about this new challenge.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

The bell rings, releasing students for the day. Angela spots Shawn through the exiting crowds and jogs to catch up to him, snagging him by the arm and pulling him into a conversation. She suggests that the two of them get together to discuss what the rest of the semester is going to look like, considering if they’re going to be working together and bridging their divides it’s going to take a lot more collaborating.

Shawn is surprised, but agrees and offers to come to her place that evening. Angela enthusiastically confirms, allowing him to walk away from her. The expression on her face as she watches him go says it all – she’s very excited about this academic get-together. Oh, Miss Moore…

EXT. FOSTER HOME - DAY

Isadora leads the way up the steps of her elegant and well-kept foster home. Riley is stunned as she follows her, obviously not expecting such a nice place in Brooklyn to be the home of Isadora De La Cruz. What she was expecting, she wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t this.

As Riley comments on the beauty of the place, Isadora shrugs it off. She clearly holds limited warmth towards the mini-mansion.

INT. FOSTER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

Riley is distracted by the other foster kids coming and going as Isadora gets the both of them a snack. While they’re there, KAREN VAN HERSCHING (50s) enters with one of the babies, ADRIEN WOODS (3) in tow. She’s shocked to see Isadora with a new friend, more than happy to greet Riley who seems like a sweet and normal girl.

Karen: It’s so nice to meet you. Isadora doesn’t bring many of her friends around. The one we’ve met, he’s… [ searching for the polite phrasing ] well, he’s interesting.

Riley: I’m familiar with his work, yes.

After Karen asks them a dozen times if they need anything and not to hesitate to ask, Isadora escapes the conversation and leads Riley upstairs.

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S ROOM - DAY

Riley again tries to discuss the foster situation now that she’s seen it for herself, but Isadora is an expert at deflection on this particular topic. She continues to sidestep and refocus on the assignment until Riley relents, allowing them to shift the conversation. She jumps on the mention of Lucas, obviously following up on a subject they were chatting about earlier.

Riley: Oh yeah, did Lucas respond about us stopping by?

Isadora: [ nonchalantly ] Oh, yeah. He said no.

Riley: … oh. Okay. Cool.

It’s okay, Riley. Chin up. It’s not you, it’s him. Believe me.

EXT. BABINEAUX HOME - DAY

Zay is finishing his commute home, walking down his street with his headphones on. Outside his house, he hesitates on an older text message with one of his friends from middle school. It’s been a couple weeks since they last texted.

After a moment, he types out a text asking if they want to hang out. He almost hits send, but can’t bring himself to do it. He locks his phone, walking up the rest of the steps to his front door.

Then, he changes his mind. He huffs, pulling up the message again and hitting send in a beat of frenzy. Within moments the friend responds, happily agreeing and beginning to make plans.

Zay exhales in relief, already feeling a little bit less alone. He smiles, stepping into his house.

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - DAY

Maya enters the old-fashioned diner, a familiar haunt for the students of AAA. At a nearby table, KATY HART finishes up gabbing with a regular customer. As she heads back, she exchanges a smile with Maya who hops up onto a stool at the counter.

She doesn’t waste a second to update her mother on their current assignment, asking for advice considering Katy was the one who pointed out to her that not every performance has to be a flashy showstopper. How would she go about tackling this assignment? Katy thinks on it, humming to herself as she wipes down the counter.

Katy: To be honest, I’ve always preferred singing duets. Sharing a song with a friend is always better than singing alone, especially if you can’t hide behind smoke and mirrors.

Maya absorbs this, allowing Katy the affectionate gesture of pushing some hair from her face. Then she offers her a smile.

INT. ANGELA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Shawn shows up to Angela’s as promised, a bit awkward as she eagerly leads him inside and shows him around but not all that opposed to being there. Although there is lingering hesitation with one another, both of them are putting forth their best efforts to meet in the middle and find common ground. So the gathering is friendly above all else.

Perhaps, in some ways, a little more friendly than colleagues would allow for. Although they’re there to work, Angela does pull out a bottle of wine about halfway through the evening, so it’s pretty clear that this meeting isn’t going to maintain a sense of professionalism. After a couple of drinks they’re laughing and joking around, gossiping about their students and fellow employees and ruminating on how wild their jobs seem to be for a couple of educators.

Shawn claims that he’s hardly an educator, and Angela vehemently disagrees with him. A pitch too passionately, with the alcohol talking. She points out how far he’s come in cleaning up his act, how he’s able to strike a great balance of stern yet supportive, and more than anything how much those geeky tech kids look up to him. It’s clear he cares about them, is more dedicated to them than maybe anything he’s ever known in his life.

The passion drifts into a moment, the two of them holding eye contact as Angela loses her train of thought. Thankfully, the music player switching songs provides them a distraction.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dreams” as performed by Lissie || Performed by Angela Moore

The Fleetwood Mac classic prompts Angela to get up from her seat, proclaiming how much she loves the song. Shawn states that he remembers, as they listened to it all the time when they were dating back in college. Angela begins an impromptu sing-along, essentially taking over the number. She dances around the living room, Shawn watching in amusement and lowkey mesmerized.

About halfway through, she pulls Shawn into the dance, too. It’s a sloppy, loose pas de deux, harkening back to the simplicity of being young and in love and dancing around drunk in college like the future was theirs to control.

As the song begins to fade, Shawn and Angela descend into laughter… which then turns into a kiss. Then, somehow, another one. And another. Clearly, Shawn was wrong about the two of them never happening again.

As they conduct their business…

INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

Zay hangs out with his friends from middle school, the group of them out to eat. While there’s a clear rapport between all of them and it’s evident they’re pals, Zay continues to struggle to feel seen. He doesn’t really fit in with his former friends anymore – they all like him, of course, but they don’t really get him. There’s not many spaces for him to add to the conversation.

He’s not dramatic enough for the divas at AAA, but he’s not grounded enough in the mundane for his former friends. He’s a nowhere man, and it’s starting to get to him.

INT. RILEY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Riley and Isadora are hidden away in her room, practicing scales on her keyboard. She is eager to help Isadora find confidence in her voice, but Isadora is still reluctant. Although they’re growing a solid friendship, she’s not comfortable enough around her to take the assignment seriously. She may have a piqued interest in performing, but it’s not strong enough to override her self-consciousness.

Isadora messes up another scale and grows frustrated, giving up. Riley tries to encourage her but she’s not having it, instead going into a mini-rant about how she might actually fail. She might fail something for the first time in her life, as if nothing else could go wrong this month.

Before Riley can put a positive spin on things, their conversation is interrupted by Cory and Topanga reentering the apartment. Their voices are raised and the discussion is obviously an argument. Cory sounds particularly distressed. Riley’s eyes widen, glancing towards the door.

They wait for the argument to dull to intense whispers, disappearing behind the closed door across the hall. Isadora watches Riley, realizing that her life might be far from rainbows and optimistic spins. Embarrassed, Riley agrees that maybe it’s time to call it a night and states that Isadora should probably get ready to go.

EXT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

The group of friends heads out, still gabbing and planning their next move. Zay sort of lingers behind, a bit zoned out. When one of his friends catches his attention and asks if he wants to come along to the movies with them, he sort of shrugs it off and makes up a lie that he needs to head home. Early morning tomorrow with rehearsals. A couple of others try to convince him to come, but he’s just not feeling it. They all bid him goodnight, stating they should do this again.

Zay watches them go, just as easy going as before. Unmoved, with or without him. Zay exhales, stuffing his hands in his pockets and heading in the opposite direction.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Mr. Brightside” as performed by Run River North || Performed by Zay Babineaux (feat. AAA Sophomores)

A soft guitar rift floats us into the number, Zay singing quietly as he meanders his way back home through the city. The performance is truly stripped, the visuals of the city at night acting more as the star as Zay walks through them. The shots pan through twinkling lights, street art in splashes of color on the brick behind him muted in the night, passing amongst groups of friends and couples enjoying each other’s company and feeling much like the subject of the song – an observer, yet pointedly removed.

As the song continues on, the voices of the rest of the cast ease in although they may or may not be pictured. Drifting away from Zay…

INT. FOSTER HOME - ISADORA’S ROOM - NIGHT

Isadora is in her room, headphones on and listening to scales and the notes from the song she’s thinking about performing. She’s trying her hardest to block out everything else and focus, but her foster siblings are being distracting enough. It’s clear she’s growing more and more nervous about the assignment.

INT. FARKLE’S ROOM - NIGHT

Farkle is in a frenzy, brainstorming more ideas for the assignment but scrapping all of them. He crumples up another page of sheet music and tosses it to the side of the bed, flopping backwards onto his bed and hiding his head in his arms.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley has finished getting ready for bed, passing by the door to her parents’ bedroom. She thinks about knocking, but ultimately decides against it. She’s not sure she wants to know what has conferred on the other side.

She walks away, avoiding the problem for another day.

INT. ANGELA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Shawn is getting ready to head out, pulling his shirt back on over his head and reaching for his jacket. Angela comes up from behind him, in her robe, pulling him around to face her. In the serenity of the night, something allows them to be softer than usual.

She takes his face in her hands, pulling him into a soft kiss. Both of them smile lightly, exchanging another one before Shawn starts to leave.

EXT. SUBWAY STATION - NIGHT

Zay has made it to his subway stop, rounding out the song. It’s soft, melancholy, permeating the New York evening. Then, he descends the stairs to the tracks below, disappearing in the crowd.

EXT. LUCAS’S APARTMENT - DAY

Isadora approaches an unfamiliar doorstep the next afternoon after school, stepping up and hitting the buzzer pointedly. It’s not the greatest neighborhood, and she looks a couple of times over her shoulder. Somewhere in the building above, a baby cries. A TV runs. A cramped, overcrowded apartment building with residents who can barely afford to live there.

After a long moment, the door swings open. LUCAS FRIAR is standing there, frowning at Isadora. She doesn’t say anything, the two of them having a tacit exchange. It’s clear he doesn’t want her there, and yet she’s there anyway. She’s Dora, and he’s not going to turn her away.

After a moment he rolls his eyes, stepping back and nodding for her to come in. She does so, marching past him. He shuts the door behind her.

INT/EXT. LUCAS’S BEDROOM / LUCAS’S FIRE ESCAPE - DAY

Lucas and Isadora are cooped up on his tiny fire escape, just big enough for the two of them to sit in if she stays cross-legged and he stretches his feet into the window. Through the pane, a cramped and uncomfortable bedroom is visible. It’s a mess as typical of any teenage boy, but also because there’s simply so much stuffed into a tiny space, and clearly not all of it is his. His bed is a mattress stacked on unshelved books and crammed into the corner.

It’s a paradox, feeling overused yet distinctly abandoned. The small refuge of a person who hates to be there.

His parents are nowhere in sight. Isadora asks him how suspension is treating him, which he shrugs off and doesn’t really answer. She gets a good look at him – aside from the bruises still healing from the fight at school, he doesn’t look much different. Not in any noticeable way.

For some reason, this prompts the question of his parents and how they took the punishment.

Lucas: Mama didn’t really care. She didn’t ask a lot of questions. Just double-checked that I could still go back, eventually.

Isadora: … and your dad?

Lucas: In Texas on business. So he doesn’t know. Think mama wants to keep it that way. So nothing. [ A beat. Then, matter-of-factly. ] For now.

Isadora searches for a change of subject. She explains what he’s missed since he’s been gone, which he seems unimpressed with. He doesn’t react much until she notes the assignment for the week and the fact that the techies have to perform too.

Lucas: What? They can’t do that, they can’t make you perform.

Isadora: Somehow, everyone knew that’s exactly what you would say.

Lucas hesitates then huffs, slouching back against the bars of the fire escape and crossing his arms. Sucks to be so predictable.

Isadora claims that’s the main reason that she’s there. She’s running out of time to figure out the assignment, but she’s totally stuck and can’t concentrate. She thinks that he can help her, to which Lucas is wholly skeptical. But Isadora knows exactly how, getting to her feet and stepping back in through his window.

Lucas: What – what are you doing?

Isadora: [ digging through the chaos, on a mission ] I know it’s in here somewhere…

Isadora exhales an exclamation of victory, retrieving an acoustic guitar from the depths of the storage closet / bedroom. No, our eyes are not deceiving us – it’s old, a little banged up, but definitely a working guitar. In Lucas James Friar’s bedroom.

Lucas groans in disdain and Isadora heads back out towards him, already refusing and reminding her that he hasn’t touched that thing in years. He probably doesn’t even know how to use it anymore. She should put it back. Actually, she should smash it and burn the remains. He’s not playing it. He’s not going to do it.

Isadora ignores him, coming back to stand in front of him. She holds it out to him, raising her eyebrows pointedly. Another tacit exchange, holding each other’s glares.

She wins, as she always does. Lucas grunts out a “fine,” taking the axe from her and adjusting his position so he can situate with it.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Breathin’” as performed by Adam Christopher || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz (feat. Lucas Friar)

Lucas launches into the rough opening notes of “Breathin’,” simplistic on guitar. It’s clear he’s rusty, but he definitely did once know how to play the guitar and still retains some of that ability. Boy, if the gent isn’t an enigma…

Finally in a setting where she focus, Isadora starts the first verse of the Ariana ode to conquering anxiety. It’s a little breathy at first, a little nervous, but Isadora was correct in her instinct that being with someone she trusts without question would help her push through her hesitancy. When she gets to the first chorus, she locks eyes with Lucas and the two of them exchange smiles. Not a bad way to spend a suspended afternoon.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Dylan takes over the guitar as the performance transitions to the auditorium, Isadora giving her required rendition in front of the techies. Riley is also present, as an invited guest of the singer. The group watches, soft and proud, as Isadora gives a great performance. It’s clear now that this girl can sing, even if she opts not to. What potential that has…

The techies give her resounding applause, Asher and Dave giving a standing ovation. Shawn thanks her and then dismisses the group. Riley gets up and approaches her, congratulating her on a job well done and stating she’s glad she was able to work through the hesitation she was having. Isadora notes offhandedly that she had Lucas help her.

After a moment, Riley ventures gently if Isadora was thinking about him while performing it. Isadora confirms the notion, not thinking much of it. While Riley can certainly empathize, it’s evident that her curiosity as to what exactly the relationship is between Lucas and Isadora is becoming insatiable. She’s always been a little nosy, and for some reason she just continues to find herself more invested in the stakes of what this dynamic might be… just, for some unidentifiable reason…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The performers are dismissing from their class, everyone gathering their things and heading out. As Farkle stresses to Angela in the background, Charlie and Zay start to reassemble the desks and help clean up. After Farkle storms out, Angela thanks them for tidying up before heading out herself.

Charlie observes how solemn Zay is, pointing out that he sure started out the week with a lot of confidence to look so deflated now. He brushes him off, but when Charlie doesn’t budge and continues to eye him expectantly, Zay finds himself wanting to talk about it. It’s nice for someone to actually be paying him attention.

It’s surprisingly easy to discuss with Charlie. He essentially explains his weird sense of isolation, how even though he is purportedly the most popular student in their grade he feels like everyone is at arm’s length. Riley enters mid-conversation, hanging back as to not interrupt but clearly listening on how it unfolds.

Charlie expresses sympathy and claims he knows the sensation. Zay sort of scoffs, but Charlie really accurately paints a picture of what he’s talking about.

Charlie: No, really. That feeling where you know you should be living the life, everything is in place for you to reap the rewards, but you just feel… like you’re not really there. Like you’re outside of your own experience and so everything is intangible. Disjointed.

Zay: … yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s it.

Charlie: Like I said, I get it.

Case in point, Charlie doesn’t have any solutions that will easily fix the problem. But he does state that Zay could’ve asked him to hang out, and he would’ve said yes.

Charlie: I know I’m not as cool as you or Maya, but I think on a good day I can be fun. Especially if you’re desperate. [ off Zay’s chuckle ] You know, since someone taught me how.

Charlie gives him a playful nudge on the shoulder, patting him on the back before heading out. He locks eyes with Riley as they pass one another, exchanging a smile and nod with her. As she steps in, Zay asks her how much she overheard to which she admits most of it. He’s like eavesdrop much, to which she shrugs sheepishly but doesn’t refute. This is just Riley, you gotta get used to it Zayby.

She asks why Zay didn’t tell her he was feeling all of those things, to which he claims he didn’t want to inconvenience her or anyone else. She argues that they’re friends, so his discomfort or loneliness is never going to be an inconvenience to her, especially if she’s in a position to help.

Riley: You were the first person to show me kindness in this hellscape. You were my first actual friend.

Zay: I hope that’s not first actual friend ever.

Riley: I know I’ve been sort of… I’ve been distracted by some other things lately. I’m sorry if I left you behind in the process. I’m going to try and be a better friend, but you have to promise me that you’re going to help me do that. Total honesty.

Zay is charmed, so he agrees. The two of them exchange a hug, Riley brightening and claiming that she already needs his help if he’s willing to give it. She hasn’t completed her assignment yet this week, after all, and she sure could use a duet partner for the song she’s thinking of…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “FourFiveSeconds” as performed by Rihanna, Kanye West, and Paul McCartney || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Riley Matthews

Riley and Zay perform a fun and loose rendition of the pop hit, Riley on guitar while the two of them harmonize. They’re up on stools in the front of the classroom, the rest of the performers seated amongst the desks and jamming along. It’s sweet, and watching the two of them sing together and make each other lowkey laugh while performing is the most endearing. Now there is a friendship worth stanning.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Class is wrapping up for the day, only one more day in the week for the assignment. Farkle still hasn’t figured it out, running one more frantic idea by Angela who is growing frustrated with how he seems unable to grasp the assignment. She points out that he knows he’s talented, they both do, so why can’t that be enough? Why can’t he let go of the spectacle?

Farkle can’t seem to articulate the reason either, but it’s something deep-seated in that spastic brain of his. So he snaps instead, mouthing off in typical diva fashion. Angela essentially warns him that he better get it together because he’s only got a day left, to which Farkle stomps off yet again. Shawn approaches.

Shawn: Does he realize that each time he tornadoes out of here like that, it loses its impact?

Angela gives him a look. The rapport between them is sharp as usual but a bit awkward, uncertain given how they reconnected and where they stand now. Are they back together? Was it just a one-time thing? It was good for both of them, they both confirm, but going down this rabbit hole again… they don’t know what to think.

And who has time to think, with Lucas and Wyatt both coming back to school next week which is guaranteed to create a whole new host of issues. Who knows what could happen… but still, neither of them purport to regret the choice they made the other night. So it seems they will see what the future holds.

Tentatively, Shawn leans forward and gives her a kiss on the cheek. She smiles, turning away from him as he saunters off. Whatever the future holds, please let it be good…

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley returns home, entering the apartment tentatively and not certain what she might find. She’s been out and avoiding it all day, but she had to come home eventually.

Topanga isn’t home, however. Cory is, sitting at the table and nursing a hot chocolate. He looks totally drained, and it’s clear from a glance that something has changed. All that charged up tension that has permeated their home for so long has shifted, but not necessarily in a good way.

Riley approaches, broaching the topic of what happened with caution. After beating around the bush and apologizing for likely embarrassing her in front of her friends (which she brushes off), Cory drops the bomb – Topanga officially filed the papers for a divorce.

Riley is completely floored. Much like Cory, she figured that even if things were uneven or rocky, they would be able to work them out. They always had in the past, after all. They’re Cory and Topanga. And yet, this is the reality they live in.

It’s difficult for Riley to wrap her head around. She shakes her head wordlessly, too stunned to cry or lash out or do much of anything. Although Cory continues to ramble in an effort to make sense of it all, Riley has zoned out, totally lost in her own head. Her whole world was just thrown out of whack. And boy, if the control freak isn’t going to leap out in compensation…

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Speaking of control freaks, Farkle is frazzled as he attempts to piece together an assignment last minute. He’s been cooped up in there most of the day, skipping half his classes and spiraling himself into a corner.

Maya enters, watching as he makes a mess of another moodboard that is inherently too flashy to get approved. She pokes fun at him which he’s decidedly not in the mood for, almost downright manic. His hair is practically flying off his forehead from how many times he’s run his hands through it in frustration.

Instead, Maya changes tact and claims she can help him. When he asks what bright ideas she could possibly deliver in this final hour, Maya knocks over his mood board and lets it hit the ground. He’s overthinking everything, she states, and that is what is going to make him fail. Zay was right at the beginning of the week when he said that performing should be about just letting go and freeing themselves, at least at the core. The more pizazz he puts on it, the more he’s just trying to control something that maybe just needs to be.

Farkle is defensive, exclaiming in a huff that when you’re in a house with five other siblings and two tycoon parents you have to be flashy to get your fair share of attention, or even just the scraps. Maya grants him that truth, empathizing although her own experience is different. She points out that in this case, he’s not doing this for anyone else though (well, except Angela). And in this case, they can help each other out.

Maya: Look, let me handle the arrangement, alright? All you have to do is sit there, use that golden albeit screechy tenor of yours, and look pretty. Although you’ll probably need a comb first…

[ She reaches up to ruffle his hair. He swats her hand away, eyeing her suspiciously. ]

Farkle: Why are you helping me? We don’t do that.

Maya: Well, I still owe you for the tutoring. And I don’t know… I’ve been told performing is more fun with a friend.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Happy Days Are Here Again / Get Happy” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Maya Hart & Farkle Minkus

So, are they friends? Their cozy and endearing closing rendition of the Glee mash-up says maybe so… it’s a warm ending to an episode that certainly set up lots to unpack as we venture into the second half of the season. Your cares and troubles are gone, there’ll be no more from now on…

Yeah, right.

END OF EPISODE.

#S1 #episodes #106

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ravennest1342-blog · 6 years

Text

Bts Hybrid AU

Bunny Breath Chapter 1

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Kim Namjoon’s day started out normally enough. The twenty-five year old woke in his room with one of his five hybrids wrapped so tightly around him he could barely breath.

Said hybrids name was Yoongi, and he was a mink hybrid. Namjoon squirmed a bit helplessly as he struggled to reach his blaring alarm clock with the numbers 5:30 proudly displayed on it. Yoongi snarled ever so lightly in his sleep as Namjoon squirmed away, his arms tightening around Namjoon as the man finally turned off the dreadful little clock with a slight wheeze from the increased pressure. He blinked sleepily, his breathing harsh as he looked down at his chest to see the mink hybrid he so adored.

Yoongi was tiny, he had a thin, wiry frame that had alarming amounts of strength hidden in the lean muscles. His face was dainty; almost doll like with pouty pink lips and a button nose paired with cat like eyes. Fluffy dark brown — almost black — hair stuck out from his head in a messy way with two tiny dark brown mink ears sticking from them. Namjoon smiled. Anyone looking at Yoongi would think he looked delicate and breakable, his slight build implying that he wasn’t very powerful, especially when compared to Namjoon’s other hybrids Jin or Jimin with their thicker builds. But Namjoon new the whiplike strength, and lightning reflexes his hybrid possessed, he knew that behind those pouty lips, was razor sharp canines — almost fangs — designed to rip and tear into flesh. He knew that the minks dark brown tail with thick fur was there to help the hybrid balance better, move faster.

“Yoongi.” Namjoon breathed softly. “I have to . . . get ready for work.” He wheezed out the last part in a high pitched noise as Yoongi’s grip tightened to the point of pain, nails digging into Namjoon’s hip and chest.

“No.” The hybrid snarled, voice thick with sleep. “You’re staying home with us today.” He growled, lashes fluttering open to reveal dark onyx black eyes. God, Yoongi is so beautiful. Namjoon thought with a sigh.

“I have to Yoongi, there’s an important meeting this morning discussing our new phone prototype and at lunch I have to meet up with Jaebum to discuss the auction he’s scouting out tonight.” He sighed. Yoongi pouted, aggression seemingly disappearing. Namjoon gave him a suspicious look as he withdrew his grip. Yoongi tried to keep him home every morning like this, he set his alarm an hour earlier than needed because of the mink.

“Fine. But you brought this on yourself.” The mink smirked playfully, his tail wrapping neatly around himself as he moved to sit Indian style and drew in a deep breath. Too late Namjoon realized what was happening he surged forward with a yelp but Yoongi had already opened his mouth and screamed.

“NO NAMJOON!! YOU CANT GET A SNAKE HYBRID!!” His voice was modeled with the perfect mixture of horror and terror at the thought of a snake hybrid and as they heard several faint yelps from down the hall, an evil smirk ripples across Yoongi’s face, the sound of running feet reaching their ears and then the bedroom door was practically ripped open.

The two hybrids that raced in were in near hysterics, full on sobbing as they rushed at a stunned Namjoon, slamming into him and knocking the man flat on his back, one hybrid had soft golden brown/russet hair and long deer ears, his body was thin and graceful with a fluffy deer tail that was white on the underside. The other hybrid had floppy golden/brown dog ears with a long tail with equally long fur, he was more gangly, but his face had almost perfect proportions. Both hybrids clambered onto Namjoon, openly wailing as they pressed against him.

“Joonie! No no nonononono!” Hoseok, the deer hybrid cried harshly, sniffling dramatically as he nuzzled into Namjoon’s side while Taehyung, a dog hybrid, straddled his hips, frantically pushing himself against Namjoon’s chest, he too was a sobbing mess.

“I won’t mi-misbehave ever again J-Joonie! Swear! I’ll even apol *hic* ogize for l-locking Jimin outside f-for four ho-hours and . . . laughing at him!” He cried. Namjoon sighed, glaring at a grinning Yoongi, who’s eyes were sparkling with unbridled humor and joy at the situation before him. This was going to be a long morning.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Namjoon was an hour and a half late for work. He really didn’t understand why Taehyung and Hoseok were so strongly against snake hybrids and figured he’d have to ask them at some point, but he barely made it to his meeting on time and all thoughts of his hybrids and worries that they might be slightly racist towards other hybrids were driven from his mind as he tackled the obstacles of his day.

He was obscenely grateful for the fact that everyone at his job respected him. If they didn’t Namjoon was well aware that his job would be a million times harder than it was. Technically, he didn’t even have to show up everyday, his company was so well oiled and staffed he should only have to drop in once a month. But he liked to make a point of going everyday, knowing all his workers names, everyone, even the intern that sorted mail in the mail room. His name was Junhwan (if this is the name of an idol, I didn’t mean to) and he was actually a brilliant artistic kid that Namjoon was thinking about putting in software design once he’d been in the company for a couple more weeks.

As it was, he still had a lot of stuff to do, departments to check up on, problems to sort out. So Namjoon was thrilled when lunch arrived and he got to go meet up with his good friend Im Jaebum. A hybrid doctor, one that was insanely good at his job. Namjoon had known him for a while, having met the other man when he was still an intern and had brought Yoongi who was . . . sick at the time.

He groaned as he made his way to the small cafe on the edge of Seoul. It was a tiny place, but it had the best sandwiches in the world. He arrived a few minutes late, so it wasn’t a surprise that Jaebum was already there and waiting. Namjoon smiled as he made his way over.

“How’s Jackson?” He demanded. His usual greeting. Jackson was a wolf hybrid that Jaebum had rescued from an abusive owner, Namjoon really liked the playful hybrid and he was good friends with Yoongi.

“Still shook by everything Mark does. I thought a wolf and a dove would be ok around each other but Jackson always looks so shocked at everything Mark does.” Jaebum smiled slightly, thinking of the playful turtleneck dove hybrid with a grin. Namjoon went to reach for the menu as he sat, when Jaebum waved him off.

“I already ordered for you. The usual, with a large watermelon juice.” Jaebum grinned widely at the surprised look on Namjoon’s face. The two talked for a few more minutes, both dancing around the real reason they were meeting up for as they waited for their food. Namjoon was just beginning to portray his confusion and worry about how much his hybrids hated snake hybrids when there food came.

Both men graciously thanked the waiter while Jaebum grinned a bit at Namjoon.

“It’s Hoseok and Taehyung that get really worried about it right?” He demanded. Namjoon nodded emphatically. “It’s because snake hybrids are oviparous.” He grinned at Namjoon’s confused look, before waving a hand and leaning back. “Look it up later. Right now, we have a problem.” He sighed.

“What? Did Chen switch auction sights? What’s wrong?” Namjoon demanded, straightening up. Jaebum shook his head, eyes downcast as he tapped his cup.

“No. Chen is auctioning off two hybrids this time. Not one. And again, it’s going to be after all the normal guests have left and only the . . . questionable ones remain.” Namjoon cursed. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Jaebum could easily afford two hybrids, he could probably buy up to twenty of them. The problem was, at these types of auctions you were only allowed one. And Namjoon couldn’t call anyone last minute like this, everyone would be booked. Which left him. He could see on Jaebum’s face that the other man fully expected him to come. Namjoon winced slightly.

“I promised Yoongi I would have a thorough talk with everyone before I rescued another hybrid.” He mumbled. Jaebum laughed, leaning back.

“And that very same day he called Jackson and called you the cutest dork in the history of dorks and said and I quote ‘Namjoon is lead by his heart. I can’t wait until I see who he brings home this time. But the sentiment was nice.’” Namjoon blinked owlishly, he supposed he should be offended by his boyfriends complete lack of faith in him, but wasn’t he proving him right? Here he was, about to go and get another hybrid from the brink of a truly horrible fate.

“Wow.” He snorted, Jaebum leaned forward expectantly and Namjoon grumbled, rolling his eyes as he pulled out his phone. “At least let me call him, Jesus, I should at least pretend that I feel guilty.” He grumbled. Jaebum smiled. The phone was barely ringing for ten seconds before a happy voice chirped out.

“Joonie! Joonie are you coming home? When? Can I have some strawberries?” It was Hoseok. Namjoon blinked before snorting.

“Um, no I’m not coming home just yet Hobi.” A faint whine of protest. “And ask Jin about the strawberries. Also, may I talk to Yoongi please?” He smiled. Jaebum grinned across the table. There was a small huff of disappointment and some shuffling before Yoongi’s soft yet deep voice filtered through the phone.

“You’re going with Jaebum to the auction aren’t you?” Then before Namjoon could even draw in a breath to answer the mink hybrid continued in his perpetually bored voice that he always used over the phone. “Are we going to have another housemate by tonight? Do I need to arrange for Taehyung to stay over at Minho’s for a sleepover? You remember how much he scared Jimin right?” Namjoon blinked once again, carefully filing each question and processing them before answering.

“Hmm, yes I am going to the auction and maybe about the new house member, no to Taehyung though, I think he’s resolved his impulse issues a bit.” Hearing Yoongi’s quiet snort of derision he sighed. “Give Tae the benefit of the doubt, Yoons.”

“Namjoon I love him to the moon and back and literally every time I see him I just want to kiss his little face until he’s very red, but he has no impulse control whatsoever.” Hearing Namjoon’s silence Yoongi groaned. “Fine! But if he traumatizes the poor hybrid I’m blaming you.” Namjoon laughed softly at him, Tae alwaysmeant well, the dog hybrid could just come off a bit strong.

“You do that. I love you Yoongi, tell the others I love them with all of my heart yeah?” A lot of stammering ensued and Namjoon grinned, knowing fully that he had probably just seriously flustered Yoongi (casually saying I love you over the phone always seemed toget to the mink hybrid) and he barely made out the mumbled reply of “Wh-whatever dork.” Before Yoongi hung up. Namjoon sat the phone down with another fond smile and began casually sipping on his tea lost in thought about the new hybrid and puzzling over what type of stuff he’d need for him/her when Jaebum spoke.

“So your coming?” He demanded. Namjoon nodded. “Great, I’ll pick you up at six p.m. sharp so don’t be late, dress casual but in obviously expensive clothes. You know the drill.”

Indeed Namjoon did.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

— 7:00 PM —

The auction began like any other auction fe rich people looking for a cute hybrid. Namjoon and Jaebum, both dressed in plain yet elegant suits were lead to their specific table in a wide well furnished room with a lovely stage that sellers would bring the hybrids out on to auction. No alcohol was given out, as that was highly illegal. Namjoon knee it would be served once the main guests were gone and the front of the auction was over allowing nastier people to come out and sell. Only a select few would be allowed to stay for that and Namjoon and Jaebum were of those few.

The first Hybrid was a a child. She looked around five or six, which meant she was three in human years, and she was a canary hybrid. Her master forced her to sing in a beautiful high pitched tinkling voice that would only get better with age. She sold for four million won.

After her came a bear, then a cow, then a lizard. All of them began to blend together and it wasn’t until he was signing his papersthat said he would remain anonymous that Namjoon knew the true event was starting. He sighed the paper without fear. Knowing full and well that Jaebum’s friend who went by Woozi, had hacked in and changed two or three words in the packet so that he could safely audio record.

He waited. Chen was one of the more known Hybrid Slave traffickers, he would be showing his hybrids close to last if not last. Namjoon just had to survive this and then he’d be able to bury these bastards. He took a deep breath and forced himself to watch as a small male badger hybrid was dragged in chains onstage with a heavy collar and forced to neel. He blocked out what the salesman was saying, instead focusing on those pitiful brown eyes and the watery nose. Forcing himself to commit the hybrid to memory. The one that he wouldn’t be saving tonight. The police would hopefully find him by tomorrow evening after Jaebum and Namjoon turned in their work. But it still hurt, watching the badger let loose a choked cry as he was bought by a hybrid breeder. Submissive males were always swooped up like that.

He forced himself to watch and remember each hybrid, each face. Each perfectly innocent person, not quite human not quite animal forever abused. He was infinitely relieved when it was announced.

“Next up is Chen with a submissive Arctic fox hybrid.” The announcer bragged. A tiny fox with large doe eyes was dragged up on stage by the man Namjoon so loathed and he barely heard Jaebum whisper, “I got him.” beside him through the raging in his ears and cottony taste in his mouth. Unlike the other hybrids the fox looked not scared, but tired. Defeated almost. As if he didn’t have any hope or joy left in his life.

He slumped quietly, ears twitching and flicking back and forth, his hair was a soft brown and thin, as was his tail. Namjoon knew that come winter the arctic foxes hair and fur would be a lot thicker and shimmering white. He could feel Jaebum continuously raising his sign signifying that he was a competitor. It upped the agression for the hybrid and made more people bet, which in turn, drove up the numbers. But eventually Jaebum was the only one left betting with another man.

He got the fox hybrid for ten million won. Namjoon’s eye twitched at the way the fox closed his eyes and shuddered slightly before dipping his head as Jaebum made his way back to where he would be filling out official documents and inserting an ownership identification chip into the hybrid. Namjoon wouldn’t do the chip part until he got the hybrids explicit consent. Consider it a pet pieve but if the hybrid he was about to get wanted to leave Namjoon would let him. He would only own a hybrid that gave him consent to being owned.

Chen himself took the microphone from the announcer this time.

“This next Hybrid is my work of art people. His parents were a dominant male black mamba hybrid and a submissive Red Rex female bunny hybrid.” Namjoon blinked in confusion. “As you all are probably well aware, breeding to hybrids with different sub base animals results in a hybrid that looks strange when compared to other hybrids of his kind, whether it be mismatched eyes or strange animal features. Please bring out Jeongguk, submissive male bunny hybrid mix breed!” Chen yelled gleefully. The room stirred, while Namjoon’s guy tightened with worry.

Bunny hybrids were pretty common in themselves, they and cat hybrids were the most common hybrids around. Almost all bunny hybrids had small box like body structures with ridiculously fluffy hair and normally black ears that stuck up proudly from their heads and twitched around depending on thei moods.

The hybrid that was dragged up on stage looked close to hyperventilating. He was dressed in form fitting shorts and a white tank top that revealed a thin slightly gangly structure that actually reminded Namjoon of Taehyung quite a bit. The hybrid seemed to possess all the good features of bunnies and none of the bad. With a slightly large nose and large front teeth, delicate cheekbones which hinted at his fathers blood and wife innocent doe eyes that were shelling with unshared tears. His hair was a dark brown with streaks of light brown and black in it giving him a mottled look. But what really grabbed the audiences attention was his ears. They were long, and unlike literally almost every other bunny hybrid, floppy, a soft golden/brown. But while everyone gasped overhow beautiful the hybrid was, Namjoon just saw the frightened gaze, the way his hands twitched in his chains and his red tear streaked cheeks that would probably be more on the babyish/chubby side once he wasn’t skin and bones. He noticed that the ends of the hybrids ears had a antibiotic cream rubbed into viscous looking sores as if the hybrid was constantly chewing or sucking on his ears.

Namjoon began the bidding. He refused to let anyone else have this little hybrid. It was like looking into Hoseok’s eyes when he was first rescued all over again, a mix of fear, pain and confusion. He was adamant. He quickly nicked over half the people out of the running and continued on ruthlessly, well aware that the money wasn’t anywhere near too expensive for him yet, and it wouldn’t be until he reached the high billions.

“Fifty -five million won!” The anouncer yelled as Namjoon raised his sign. He glanced around, seeing the disappointed looks around him and knew he’d won. “Going once! Twice! SOLD to number forty-seven please go to the back to fill out you right to ownership papers please sir! Have fun with your buy.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

So what did you think for a beginning chapter? It’s fun right? I figured Jungkook joining them would be a great place to start! Love you!

Feel free to ask any questions or point out any mistakes I’ve made! I tend to not proof read enough so constructive criticism is helpful!

Part Two to Bunny Breath is HERE

If you want to see the rest of my AU’s then please make your way to my Masterlist HERE

#bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bangtan ot7 #hybrid au #bts hybrid au #bts hybrids #bunny kook #bunny jungkook #hybtid yoongi #hybrid hoseok #hybrid taehyung #hybrid jimin #hybrid jin #hybrid jungkook

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justlookfrightened · 6 years

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Coach Bitty, Part 4

Now we’re getting somewhere.

To start from the beginning, go to Part 1.

Part 4

Jack was relieved when Bittle was on the ice with a couple of kids on Friday. He made sure not to approach the ice until 3:55, and even then he tried to not scowl when Bittle saw him. Bittle just told the skaters their time was up, nodded at Jack and went to get the Zamboni out.

On Saturday, Bittle was there with the most kids Jack had seen at once. There were four of them, but they weren’t working. They looked like they were playing tag, something no coach of Jack’s had allowed since when? U10? U8?

These kids weren’t much older than that. They seemed younger than the skaters Bittle usually worked with.

Jack watched through the lobby doors long enough to realize that it wasn’t traditional tag, where one person was trying to catch everyone else. No, in this case, all the kids were trying to catch Bittle. And failing.

After a minute or two, Jack decided this could go on for a while, so he pushed the door open. Bittle stopped immediately.

“That’s all for today,” he called loudly enough for all the kids to hear him. “If you can catch me next week, you can skip the power skate then. But for now, I expect to see you all at 9 a.m. Monday.”

There were groans, but they didn’t sound too disappointed.

“Does everybody have a parent or other responsible adult here?” Bittle asked. “If you do, then shoo.”

The kids clomped into the lobby still in their skates, and Jack could only describe the look on Bittle’s face as watched as fond. Once again, Bittle’s cheeks were pink with exertion, and his mouth was shaped in a half-smile. Skating looked good on him.

Bittle turned to Jack, his smile fading.

“I’ll have it done in 10 minutes,” he said.

“You don’t have to hurry,” Jack said.

Then one of the skaters came back, dragging a wheeled gear bag behind her, a worried look on her face.

“Coach Bitty, my dad’s not here,” she said.

“Ok,” Bittle said. “Do you have a phone? Can you call him?”

“No,” the girl said. “I’m not allowed until I’m 11. But I know his phone number.”

“That’s OK. I have his number in my phone. Here, I’ll find it and you can call him, OK? Maybe you can sit right here on the bench while I do the ice for Mr. Zimmermann here. I want you to stay where I can see you, so don’t go in the lobby, and tell your dad he has to come in and get you, all right? If he doesn’t answer, he’s probably on his way. If he doesn’t get here by the time I’m done, we’ll call him again.”

She nodded.

Bittle took another look at here before walking away.

“You have a sweater to put on, Giselle? It’ll be cold in here if you’re not skating.”

When she shook her head, Bittle stripped off his fleece and tugged it over Giselle’s head.

Then he turned to Jack and said, “I really apologize for the delay. Why don’t you go on and get changed and I’ll get the ice done for you?”

Jack was about to offer to wait with Giselle when he remembered that he was a stranger, and she’d probably be more comfortable if he kept his distance.

“It’s fine,” he said. “These things happen, eh? Are you sure she’ll be ok while you clean the ice?”

Bittle glanced at Giselle, holding his phone to her ear.

“She’ll be fine,” Bittle said. “She’s a tough cookie, aren’t you, Giselle?”

Giselle nodded and put the phone down.

“My dad said he went to the car and it had a flat tire,” she said. “He got an Uber and he’ll be here soon.”

“See,” Bittle said. “Everything will be fine.”

Jack changed and came back to the ice in time to see Bittle putting the Zamboni away.

“Giselle and I can wait in the lobby,” he said to Jack. “We’ll be out of your hair as soon as we can.”

“It’s fine,” Jack said again. “You can stay here if you want, but I’m not going to be doing any fancy moves like you.”

He tapped Giselle’s shoe with his stick to make clear he was talking to her. She giggled, and Bitty said, “What’s your preference, then, Miss Giselle?”

“Here,” she said.

So Bittle took a seat on the bench next to her. Jack smiled at the picture they made as he skated out; Bittle wasn’t a large man, but he was clearly fit. Giselle was tiny enough that his red fleece dwarfed her.

The next time he thought to look for them, they were gone.

********************************

Bitty didn’t give any lessons or supervise training sessions on Sundays. He wasn’t terribly religious – he hadn’t gone to Sunday services regularly since he left Madison – although, if pressed, he would stay he still believed in a benevolent God who loved people. Even the ones his pastor in Georgia disapproved of.

But he also believed that people needed at least one day a week to rest, and he told all of his students to take Sunday off.

“It’s fine if you go swimming with your friends or play a little pickup basketball or something,” he told them. “But no skating, and no real workouts. You need time to relax and time to play.”

He supposed that applied to him as well, but what he most wanted to do was get out on the ice and just skate without having to teach, or worry if he messed up and set a bad example. He supposed that he did his best thinking on the ice, just like Jack Zimmermann.

Which was not something he should probably even know about Jack. (When had he put Jack on a mental first-name basis?) But Shitty had called last night, asked if he could drive up with Lardo and take Bitty out for a beer, and Bitty wasn’t too proud to accept; his own budget didn’t allow many nights out if he had to pay.

He hadn’t expected Shitty to settle into the booth, three beers cradled in his hands, and say, “So, I hear you’ve met Jack Zimmermann.”

“Um, how did you know?” Bitty asked. “You talked to Johnson?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” Shitty said. “But I talked to Jack yesterday.”

“Wait – how do you know Jack?”

“I met him maybe three, four years ago? At a benefit thing where he managed to look like he was as out of place as I was. Anyway, he said something a while ago about wanting to find an out-of-the-way rink where he could skate without anyone bothering him so he could think, and I hooked him up with Johnson. And now he’s talking about this figure skating coach who’s always there.”

“I try to stay out of his way –” Bitty started.

“I didn’t say he was complaining about you. Actually, he said you do one of the best jobs resurfacing the ice that he’s ever seen, which is high praise. But when I said I knew you, it seemed like he wanted to know more, and I didn’t know how much you would want me to share.”

Bitty thought about it. He had nothing to be ashamed of, no matter what the cretins who locked him in a closet in middle school thought.

He’d come north to Samwell on a hockey scholarship, but it hadn’t worked out. He’d been terrified of being checked the whole season, despite the efforts of his teammates to help him get over it. Then, when he did go ass over teakettle in the second-to-last game and ended up missing two weeks of classes with a concussion, he knew he was done.

But his experience around ice rinks had come in handy, and he got a job at the public rink in Samwell, teaching little kids learn-to-skate, skate guarding, staffing the rental booth, eventually sharpening skates and driving the Zamboni. That helped make up for his lost scholarship.

And the hockey team hadn’t dropped him like he thought they would – at least, not all of them. Shitty and Ransom and Holster seemed to think it was their fault he couldn’t make it, and they started coming to public skate, and Lardo once tried to give him her job as manager. Anyway, that led to where he was now.

He doubted Jack Zimmermann would mind that the figure skating coach and Zamboni guy was gay. At least as long as he never knew Bitty saw his ass. He probably would find Bitty’s checking problem laughable, but who cared? Bitty wasn’t sure why Jack Zimmermann was asking about him anyway; maybe he just didn’t run across a lot of new people. He seemed nicer once he got used to a person.

Bitty had shrugged.

“You can tell him,” he said.

Shitty nodded. “I will if he asks again,” he said. “But I told him to ask you himself.”

Bitty had been running over the conversation in his mind while he stepped across the ice, then serpentined, then tried a jump or three. He finished with a long combination spin.

When he moved from his ending position, Jack was there. Of course. And it was only 3:30.

He skated to the side.

“Hi, Mr. Zimmermann. Did you need something?”

“Call me Jack. And I wanted to talk to you.”

“Ok.”

“Uh – it turns out we have a mutual friend,” Jack said.

“Yeah, I saw Shitty and Lardo last night.”

“Oh, ok. Anyway. I think he said he met you on the hockey team at Samwell? So I was wondering if you wanted to shoot some pucks with me?”

Read Part 5

#omgcheckplease #omg check please #zimbits #my fic #coach bitty

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3one3 · 7 years

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The Sequel - 828

Trademarked

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Mausi. Hey. Hey. Pay attention for a second. Do you want to stay here with Lauren and Emily and Optimus?”

“No.”

“You want to go outside to watch Mommy ride with me?”

“No.”

“Well those are the two options. Do you want to brush the pony or go outside? Pick one.”

“Pony.”

“Okay. You stay here, then. Listen to Lauren, okay? Do what she says.”

“Bye, Daddy.”

There was a staffing development in Christina’s barn while she was home, and she thought she had Heiner to thank for it. In reality, it was André who managed to make something work out nicely for her. She and Tom couldn’t agree on a replacement for the woman they fired, and they still needed another groom to help every day and to be the primary caregiver when Tom was away. André wanted Isandro. The Argentine was trusted, he knew all the horses, got on well with Tom, could work at home or go on the road as needed, and most importantly, never let the boss down. He also didn’t really want to move back to Germany. He never liked it there in the first place, and his daughter lived in England. André kept calling, and kept trying to convince him that it was a great career move for him, and that it would be great for everyone not to have to get used to new people. He still hadn’t found another job yet. The footballer kept offering more money. Nothing worked, until the footballer called the Germany Chef d’Équipe and explained the predicament. Heiner still held a lot of cache with Isandro. The groom owed a lot to the trainer. André suspected some guarantee of a future favor was involved when Isandro finally called him and said that he would take the job if his moving expenses were paid, he could take lots of holiday to go visit his little girl while she was in school and couldn’t come to him, and he received the same wages as before. Tom was already getting even more than that, and Kyle was getting paid, so accepting that deal meant the operating budget for Christina’s stable was more than doubling in terms of staff, right when she was reducing her commercial income. That didn’t make great financial sense to the man who took responsibility for his family’s finances and future. It put a little pressure on him to figure out what to do with the London property. He wasn’t in a position to bargain. He wanted Isandro, and so did Tom.

The position was filled. The only immediate problem was that the other groom couldn’t move in a hurry. He needed some time to find a place to live that would work for him and for his daughter when she came to visit. So Tom still had to work every day, which was particularly annoying on Sundays. His wife and two daughters came to spend time with him while he worked. He and Kyle sort of switched jobs, so that the kid had more to do and he had less. A convenient way to get face time with his kids while working was to put Optimus Prime on the crossties so that his oldest daughter could groom and pet him while he groomed or tacked up or untacked the big horses in the next grooming stall. André took Lukas over around lunchtime to deliver Christina’s salad, and Tom said she was running behind schedule and had just gotten on Nick. Lukas was excited to have another little person around, and immediately joined in the pony grooming under the watchful eye of Tom’s wife, Lauren, who also had a little tot on her hip. The kids all knew each other. Lauren was working part-time and her and Tom’s kids usually went to daycare during those hours, but they didn’t have any other additional help for other times, so once or twice when she had an appointment or something to do, Lauren brought them over and left them with Espen while she was looking after Lukas. Christina really liked the idea of being able to help Tom’s family that way, and she didn’t mind the Sunday situation at all.

Tom’s wife and kids being around wasn’t what put her behind schedule. She worked out that morning and did a lot of high intensity work, and after about 10 minutes in the saddle on her first horse of the day, the protein, greens, and fruit packed smoothie she had in between began to disagree with her stomach. She had to stop and bring Socks back to Tom to hang onto for her while she ran to the bathroom. It wasn’t just vomiting that she needed to do. He made her wait a little for her body to recover from trying so desperately to get rid of what she put inside it, and she listened because she really felt quite bad. Everything felt bad, not just her digestive system.

André didn’t know, and he thought she looked good when he walked around the side of the dirt ring to sit in the gazebo and watch for a while. She waved to him for a second and then resumed working on the shrinking spiral she was doing with Nick at the canter. The horse looked good too. His dark bay coat shone in the midday sun, and his overly full and thick black tail followed calmly behind him while he bent around her inside leg and adjusted his stride and balance to be able to make his circle smaller and smaller. Her gloved hands stayed wide so that she could use her outside rein to help him in that, and keep him from collapsing his weight on the inside shoulder. Hers stayed open and square, also helping to prevent the natural tendency for the whole operation to over bend and fall in. His ears flicked around and his head stayed down, conveying a sense of focus to their audience. The BVB man saw some greenish foam on the black fleece on Nick’s noseband, and that was the only thing to spoil the perfect picture of horse and rider. Christina was in black breeches and a white long-sleeve polo, so even their color scheme was working for them.

Why would I decide to do ride in tiny circles when I already don’t feel well, the rider asked herself when it was, thankfully, time to start using her inside leg to push Nick out and begin expanding her spiral out instead of in. The goal was to do it smoothly and consistently so that the whole process felt the same throughout, with no dramatic alterations to pace, stride length, impulsion, bend or track. The difficult part for her, even when she didn’t feel like she might be sick again anyway, was not letting her head tip over and her eye to drop and drag her posture and thus balance with it, no matter which way she was going in the circle, in or out. Ideally her chin would remain up and her eyes would always look ahead, just peeking around her constant turn. The correct thing is not to look down at the horse’s neck, shoulder, or head, but everyone does, including Christina. She was lulled into watching the rhythmic bounce of his mane, which was a little thinner than his luxurious tail but still beautiful and shiny. It wanted to stand up instead of lie flat if it was pulled or trimmed too short, so he had about 4” worth that moved with him until it was caught by the occasional cool breeze. As soon as her circle had grown large enough to bring her back to the rail, she switched Nick’s bend and asked for a lead change, then gave him a chance to canter up the diagonal on the new lead and get some relief from having to maintain the left bend and left lead for so long. The reins slid through her fingers a bit, and she sat up off his back, allowing him to stretch out and have some freedom.

André always smiled when he saw her give that particular horse his head, because it was like the Hanoverian didn’t know what to do with it. He didn’t understand freestyle. He always wanted to be in a nice round frame, and carry himself carefully and with purpose. Sometimes the player thought of him like a kid who attends a strict, religious school and only knows his stuffy uniform and narrow code of behavior. André knew some kids like that growing up. They seemed uncomfortable in sneakers, and didn’t own any jeans or sweatshirts. They didn’t know how to entertain themselves, or play by themselves. They were always waiting for an adult to tell them what to do. Nick didn’t fully relax until Christina let him walk and reached down to pat and hug his neck.

“Ready for lunch?”

“I dunno. I don’t feel that well,” she frowned. Her partner was able to see how tomato-like her face was under he baseball cap once she got closer. “I barfed earlier, and...other things. Now I just feel really thirsty, but I dunno if I wanna fill my stomach with water and expect it to just stay there.”

“Is it something you ate?” he asked her sympathetically when she came to a halt. He and Lukas had the same smoothie she did, minus the protein powder.

“I don’t see why it would be. I haven’t had anything new.”

“You were dripping sweat in the kitchen after your workout. Did you go overboard? I feel sick sometimes if I do too much.”

“Maybe. I feel like I’m not doing enough lately. I wake up tired and kind of drag myself through exercising.” Her nose wrinkled on one side and she invited Nick to keep walking. His workout was intense enough that he needed more cool down than half a lap of the ring. André knew she’d circle back soon to say close, so he waited to respond. If you slept through the night then you wouldn’t wake up tired. If you put your troubles on me then you wouldn’t have trouble sleeping, Clamshell Prinzessin. He was sure that whatever was keeping her up and waking her in the night, it would stop if she let go of it by sharing it with him. I don’t even care if it’s about me, or us. It’s fine if it’s bad stuff that’s getting to her. It could be some fear she has, or she has a feeling that she’s afraid of because it means a change. Whatever it is, I want to know it and I want her to want me to. Even if it’s something like she can’t sleep because she misses Juan, I rather she tells me and we try to do something to make it better.

“I brought rainbow salad,” he told his girl when she came back around. “Do you want to try to eat a little and have some water and rest until you feel better?”

“Yeah, I guess. I was going to sit inside for a while anyway. Where’s the Munchkin?”

“Brushing Optimus with Emily. I brought his lunch too.”

“Let him play unless he says he’s hungry. He likes doing stuff with the pony better when he has a friend. Don’t interrupt!” Christina urged. She was disappointed that her son wasn’t more into interacting with the animals. He liked to pet them and feed them treats but he didn’t ask to go for pony rides, and he hardly ever accepted when she offered to get Optimus out for him to lead him around, or use the grooming tools. Tom’s kids couldn’t wait to comb his tail and curry his coat whenever they came over. Their dad even collected all the smallest brushes and combs into a separate grooming box for them so that they didn’t have to fight with the implements too big for their little hands. There were no tiny ponies to play with at his old job.

“I’ll wait for you. You can ask him what he wants,” André shrugged. Is she ever going to grow out of expecting anyone who comes to see her ride to be in a hurry to leave, he wondered, not for the first time. I get that her dad was always working and he didn’t get to spend long afternoons at the stable with her, and I know she said she had boyfriends who would tolerate watching her ride one horse at a time, or one hour of horse showing, but I’ve never been like that with her. And since I can’t train normally and I get home early this whole time she’s been here, I stay over here for hours and hours with her. When will that sink in so she doesn’t assume I’m in some hurry to eat lunch and leave?

Christina shrugged and put a lightweight large-waffle-knit sheet over Nick’s rear to go for another lap of the ring before heading up to the barn. It was pretty warm out but Nick was always cold, and his coat grew the fastest so he got clipped one more time than the others, so he was presently furthest from having a normal summer coat. The sheet was cotton instead of wool or fleece, and it came out of her collection of equipment that came over with her from New York. It said “MARTIN” on it in double script. Her husband thought it apropos that he saw her using something from her past while he believed she was battling expectations from her past too. He walked back with her, and tried not to feel worried when she looked dizzy and unstable as soon as she hopped off the 16.3hh stallion. She was all smiles when she got to the kids and the pony anyway. Emily was trying to show Lukas how to use the brush side of the hoof pick to clean out Optimus’ hooves, and he was paying close attention until he realized Mommy was there. He liked Emily, but Mommy was the number-one girl in his life. He needed hugs, and to have his nose wiped. That cool breeze outside brought pollen inside. The little boy did decline the lunch invitation though. He wanted to stay with Emily and her sister, Mia, who he called “Mimi”. His parents went up to the lounge to eat alone, or to at least try to.

“I don’t feel good,” Christina declared after a few bites of her favorite salad- baby spinach, baby kale, carrots, red cabbage, red bulgur, and grilled chicken, in her homemade vinaigrette. She put her fork down and made an unpleasant face.

“Are you gonna barf again?” Her lunch date made one too.

“No, but I might if I eat more.”

“Are you all right?” He turned a little more serious.

“I think so? I don’t know. My body is just quitting today. I haven’t had that in so long.”

“You’re not sleeping enough, Prinzessin.”

“I go to bed as early as I can almost every night.”

“But you wake up in the middle of every night, sometimes for hours.”

“I didn’t know I was waking you...” The worn out rider picked up her fork again and used it to push the food around in the plastic container, primarily as a reason not to meet André’s scrutinizing countenance. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I go right back to sleep. Do you know what’s keeping you up though? Is it stress?” I’m tired of waiting for her to open up, he thought. I can say anything to her. That’s the whole point of us. I shouldn’t have to wait, or worry what might happen because I ask. I hope.

“I have no idea.”

“Oh.”

“No, babe, seriously. Please don’t take that tone like I’m just being deliberately uncooperative. I really don’t know why I wake up. I’m able to fall asleep most nights because I’m just so tired, but then I wake up and I’m thirsty or I have to pee and then I can’t go back to sleep. My mind races, but not about the same things.”

“Well is anything bothering you? I’m just trying to help,” the player stressed. He took a sip from his water glass and then took a gentle hold of her wrist, to kind of pet the inside, over her fox. “I don’t want to push if you feel you need to...not be pushed, but to me it’s like there’s a little something you’re holding back, and maybe that’s what is ruining your sleep. Not necessarily that you’re not telling me, but whatever the thing is itself.”

“I’m not keeping anything from you.” Christina shook her head and moved between concerned that he thought she was hiding something and sad that he thought her capable of it. “And if I was, it would definitely be the hiding that would keep me up at night more than whatever it was.”

“No, I don’t mean- I’m not talking about like a secret, or a lie or something,” he smiled back. “It’s more like...your thoughts. It’s like I don’t get the whole picture. Is there anything stressing you out, like more than usual? Something you’re not sure about? A doubt, maybe? I don’t know. I guess I’m asking because it’s seemed this way for a few weeks and I don’t want to not say everything to you either. So this is what’s on my mind lately, besides the things I do tell you about.”

“I don’t have anything new.” The rider lifted her shoulders and held them there for a few seconds instead of just shrugging normally. Her answer was a half-truth. The thing she’d stopped talking to André about was her conflict between him and Juan, and her quest for an answer about what to do about it, or an indication of when she might know. It wasn’t that she thought she couldn’t talk to him about it further. She just didn’t want to talk about it at all, or think about it. She wanted it to go away, and give her a shot at the whole concept of “wait and see”.

“What about something old?”

She shook her head and dropped her gaze again, and André knew she wasn’t being honest. He was being honest though when he said he didn’t want to push, so he didn’t. Instead he just reminded her that he was willing and able to hear anything she felt like talking about, and also that it was okay with him if she wanted to talk in the middle of the night, even if it wasn’t about something bothering her but just to try to help her get back to sleep. It wasn’t like he had extensive training every day that he needed tons of rest. It was like he could see her growing uncomfortable with the conversation even as he tried to steer it away from trouble. The spur on her right boot kept tapping the leg of her chair over and over, and she got all red again. There was definitely something still wrong, the BVB forward concluded, because he was only supposed to be able to make her uncomfortable in sexual situations, when it was a good kind of uncomfortable. On the basis that he was never good with words anyway, and that Christina needed and wanted him to show her things instead of just tell her, he devised a plan for later, after she was finished riding, and after she watched her football game, and did dinner and bedtime with Lukas.

“It looks cozy in your corner here,” he smiled when he stopped on his way from the office, where he took a long call from his dad, to the kitchen to get a drink. He leaned over the back of the couch to kiss Christina’s temple. She was in a ball under a blanket in the opposite corner from the one he usually occupied. It was one of her cashmere blankets, and she was almost fully horizontal with just a throw pillow for her head. Her posture told him she was exhausted but very comfortable, and he almost didn’t want to interrupt that, but it was part of his plan. “Can I get in your blanky too?” Christina nodded her consent. He wasn’t sure she’d be so accommodating, because sometimes she was so grateful to find a comfy spot and relax and be still that she really didn’t want to ruin it. To her partner’s surprise, she moved fully out of the corner to let him take the spot and stretch out down the chaise the way he normally did on the other side, and then she immediately moved back in to get cozy again, and cover him with her blanket. “Do you feel okay?” André questioned, petting her head since she put it right on his chest, as close to his chin as she could get. She shook her head “no.” “What doesn’t feel good, Prinzessin?” This is going to derail my plan, he thought. He wanted to offer his full-body message services, head petting, and an old movie- or what he thought of as a Put Chris To Sleep deluxe package. The goal was to make her so relaxed that she’d fall asleep easily and then stay asleep, and get some good quality rest.

“I miss us,” Christina whispered.

“Hmm? How do you mean?”

“Everything used to be fine. I used to feel happy all the time, and you were the best thing, and being with you was like...like being calm about everything. You used to say that to me- that I made you calm. You did for me too. I miss it,” she explained, still very quiet, before lodging her lower lip under her front teeth and pulling her black blanket tighter around her shoulder. She’d been lying there thinking about “Sunday Syndrome”- the dread one gets as the weekend winds down and it’s time to prepare for another dreaded Monday. Her schedule wasn’t like most people’s anyway. She didn’t have a 9-5 job that would restart on Monday morning, and she didn’t have time off over the weekend. But another week was another week, and despite the freedom inherent in her schedule and indeed in her entire lifestyle, she felt an oppressive sort of monotony setting in. In a few days she’d leave for France to compete in a Nations Cup qualifier that she wasn’t particularly looking forward to, and then she’d come back to a partnership she wasn’t finding particularly rewarding, and it was difficult to identify what in her life was the thing she would look forward to, like the light at the end of the tunnel. The rider thought that was all wrong. She was meant to look forward to competing, and she was meant to look forward to coming home after to be with her partner. She couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t like that anymore, and that was depressing.

The thing she longed for to combat that Sunday Syndrome feeling was the pure calming effect that she used to experience just being with André. Their relationship used to feel, she decided, like an aloe gel meant to cool and calm all the hurt, whether it was big like a major horse injury drama, or small like a scheduling conflict that needed to be resolved, or just an everyday ailment like stress. Any size inflammation could be soothed to some degree. That wasn’t the case anymore, it seemed. Being with Juan was the new pain reliever and anti-irritant, but it was like a different one, not exactly the same- perhaps a cortisone cream instead of the aloe gel- and so Christina still missed the original. Both remedies provided the same relief, but how they got there was different. Juan disappeared the problems. They just went away. André soothed them away, so that she was conscious of them diminishing and then ending. That sensation was lacking from her life. Her Sunday Syndrome was artificial because of her schedule reality, so it was fitting that she sought the sensation of having it soothed more than the end result, it being gone. She sought the feeling of her problems being taken away from her more than the feeling of not having the problems.

“I appreciate getting credit for your constant happiness, pretty girl, but I think you’re experiencing a selective memory problem,” the footballer told her with a fond chuckle. He lowered himself down the chaise a little more so that she could put her folded leg on him too, and reach across his upper body. “Everything has rarely been fine, and you’ve never been happy all the time. There’s always something. Don’t misunderstand,” he warned, covering her left hand with his after putting that arm around her. “I want to be that for you. But I don’t want you thinking you’re missing something you never had, yeah? If you exaggerate the past, it’s very hard to recreate that. I’m not trying to say you shouldn’t expect to be happy. I just mean you should remember that we’ve been through a lot too.”

“I know.” But something is still wrong, the very warm girl attached to him thought. I don’t know what it is. It doesn’t work anymore. Do you build tolerance to aloe gel, like antibiotics? “I just want to feel better, about everything. I want you to be why it’s all okay.”

“What can I do? What don’t you feel good about?” It took a bit of effort for him to conceal his excitement. One of his favorite things in the world was his wife revealing that she did in fact want to feel happy, because sometimes he worried that she didn’t, and that she liked being miserable or depressed. One of his other favorite things was her desire for him to be the one to fix things for her. He just didn’t know what else he needed to do to help her in the present moment. He was already trying his best to address everything he saw as a problem, or potential issue, be they horse related, Juan related, marriage related, or parenting related.

“I don’t know. That’s the problem,” Christina grumbled before trying to wriggle even more of herself into contact with the person she desperately wanted some unknown, intangible benefit from. Everything about doing so was familiar. The feeling of his worn t-shirt on her cheek was old. His sweatpants felt normal under her toes where she used the top of his thigh to help keep her leg still. The dimensions of the torso she hugged were standard. He was hard in the usual places and squishy where expected. His temperature was predictable, and comforting, but no miracle cure. Her player still felt like hers. He was still her physical property. There was no coming to terms with that the way she had to with Juan. It was just inherent, and natural. He was comfortable. He was as good to her as the James Pearse blanket and its divine softness. But none of those familiar, regular, normal things were collaborating to provide the effect she wanted. “What if you can’t anymore? What if it’s just over? What if we only get so many years of that and then it’s gone?” What if it really is like medical stuff and when you abuse one remedy it eventually stops working and you have to move on to a different treatment? What if I have to be with Juanin to feel better, and I just have to accept that it’s different?

“I don’t believe that.” André shook his head and kissed the top of hers. He wished he could squeeze her into feeling whatever it was she wanted to feel. He was running out of ways to try to make her happy, or to foster her own self-created happiness. And hearing her mumble the words “What if it’s just over?” really pinged. He didn’t think she meant their relationship was over, but he couldn’t see how their relationship could go on if the most important quality in it was “over”. The only reason he didn’t immediately get upset and lose his cool was that Christina sounded so distraught over that idea. It didn’t sound like she was just pretending to lament the evidence she was presenting for the end of their marriage, the way he kept thinking she was doing while they were living apart- when he thought she actively wanted their marriage to be collapsing.

“Do I still do it for you?”

“Aw yeah you do it for me, baby, rawr,” the German joked. He could practically feel her roll her eyes.

“Not like that.”

“Yes, I still feel calm because of you. Not exactly as much as at other times, because like I said earlier, it feels like you keep something back still, but enough that I don’t have any doubts. I’ve been thinking lately that the situation with my ankle is only tolerable because I have you and Mausi with me. I’m okay. I want to play. I’m dying to play, and train. I hate watching. But I don’t feel panicked or anxious about it. I think I would be in very bad shape if this happened in the fall, when you weren’t here. I have you guys to keep me busy, and to remind me to keep working to get better, and even more than that, to remind me that what I do on the pitch isn’t all the matters. Even right now, Prinzessin.” He held his answer for a second so that he could squeeze her tight in the one arm and hold the side of her face and neck with the other hand. “When you say I’m responsible for making everything good for you, and fixing it when it’s bad- yes, I know you’re overstating that a bit and it’s not all up to me, and I know you’re not trying to say I’m the only one responsible, but it still makes me feel good, knowing you need me, and that my main thing in life is our family, not football.”

“I wish I could know that.”

“What?”

“I’ve never in my life felt like what I do outside of riding is more important or necessary than what I do inside riding. I’ve never felt like if I couldn’t ride it would be okay because I have you guys, or anything else. I don’t know what that means.”

“I think it means that it’s the riding that’s making you feel...un-calm. I don’t think it’s us, Prinzessin.”

He’s willing to accept responsibility for my happiness but he’s not willing to accept responsibility for my unhappiness, Christina sighed to herself. He’s always trying to make our problems not our problems, and blame them on horse stuff. I wish he would stop. Juanin doesn’t do that. He doesn’t deflect. He walks around in his perfect-fit skinny jeans on his cute little legs, wearing the CWD belts I got for him, and his nice watches, with his old man green sweater with the sleeves pulled up enough to show off the watch and his retarded sexy wrists, and he accepts everything exactly the way it is. He suffers no illusions, or denial. Just one time I wish boyfriend would accept that our problems are our problems and not my riding ones. I miss him, she thought, meaning the Spaniard. She shut her eyes for a moment, and tried to focus on letting the physical comfort of closeness with that body- the German player’s- help to calm her frustration.

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