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fresh-outta-jams · 5 years

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Signed, Sealed, Delivered - Part 12

Namjoon x Reader Author: Admin Mo Summary: You’re in college when your soulmate tattoo shows up, an address. You figure it couldn’t hurt to send a letter, right? Note: I’m so excitedddddddd oof here we go, y’all. Warnings: Some swears, soulmate fluff. Word Count: 3.5k

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, Epilogue

Nervous didn’t even begin to cover the emotions coursing through Namjoon’s body. He was terrified, excited, elated to be getting on the plane, and as soon as he sat down, it all sank in. The next time he got out of this plane, he would be in your state, and then soon after, in a car on the way to your school, and then even sooner after that, he’d have you in his arms, smothering you with kisses and affection. God, it was almost enough to make him pass out.

It had been a while since he’d flown somewhere alone, Namjoon reminisced. He missed the chatter and laughter of his brothers, filling the plane. Instead, sitting in First Class alone, he had to turn to his phone and computer for entertainment. He’d told you a few hours ago that he’d broken his phone, another lie, and that he wouldn’t have it for the rest of the day until it got fixed, so the two of you wouldn’t be able to FaceTime. And, if the problem arose, he’d lie to you about his webcam being dysfunctional too. It was a fourteen-hour flight and you couldn’t have any idea he was on the way, if he wanted the surprise to pay off.

Lily and Grace had offered to keep an eye on you, making sure you stayed at the library, which was where he planned to meet up with them, and therefore, you, when the time came. God, thinking about it made his heart race.

After this flight, he’d be with you. After this flight...He’d. Be. With. You. It was going to drive him mad. Figuring his best bet to pass the time was sleeping, Namjoon lowered his seat and pulled his Koya sleeping mask down over his eyes, his headphones playing something soft and romantic. He had no idea how he would ever be able to sleep when something so exciting was waiting on the other end of that dreamy tunnel for him, but he figured he’d have to if he didn’t want the minutes to crawl by.

So, he let his breaths slow, and he let the music carry him off to a happy place filled with coffee shops and a girl with pink hair and a camera.

***

You were decidedly itchy. No, maybe itchy wasn’t quite the right word. You were antsy, more like it. It was seven. You’d just woken up from a very odd dream about an airplane, which you’d written off as anxiety about your upcoming first flight.

Today was Monday, the first day of exam week, which certainly contributed to your itchiness. And once you unlocked your phone to scroll through the night’s notifications, you got some more answers as to exactly why something felt off.

Unknown Number: Hey jagiya! It’s Namjoon! Your clumsy boyfriend dropped his phone, so I won’t be able to text or call you today. I’m sending this from Hobi’s phone. I just wanted to let you know that I love you so much and I’ll talk to you tomorrow! Have a good day studying for your exams. I know you’ll do well! Fighting!

It was sweet, very sweet. How thoughtful of him, to send you a message instead of leaving you to wonder if your amazing wonderful boyfriend was ignoring you. But that was what Namjoon was: thoughtful. And yet, something still felt off about it, yet you couldn’t put your finger on it.

So, you sat up, stretched, hung your sleeping mask on its designated Command hook, and started down your ladder to begin one very uneventful day of studying.

***

You were a strong believer in study breaks. Cramming without stop always made you more frustrated than anything else. So, every couple of hours, you took a thirty-minute break to talk to the other two friends who had come to cram with you. Well, at the moment, it was one. Lily was taking her Psychology exam, so that left you with Grace, who had her nose in her American History book, jotting notes down in her red, white, and blue notebook.

When she looked up, and caught your gaze, she set down her textbook and smiled, stretching. “Break time already?”

“Yeah, it’s like three.”

“Holy shit that went by fast.” She checked the time on her phone only to find that what you’d told her was accurate. And also, she’d received a DM from your soulmate, the one person you could not know she was messaging. She snatched up her phone as quickly as she could.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, that sinking feeling you’d been harboring since this morning returning in full force. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” She blurted too quickly, clearing out her notifications, and with them, any remains of Namjoon’s message. “No, I just, uh, my professor emailed me a study guide and I really needed it.”

“Oh, that’s good…” You nodded, attempting to take a sip from your now-empty glass of tea. Luckily for you, you’d been saving up your meal dollars, so you had enough money for all the tea you could ever drink...and then some. And, in addition, you had to spend all of them before the school year ended, so you figured you may as well use them.

Standing up from the table, you grabbed your empty cup and tossed it in the trash, walking up the stairs to get another one from the tea place on the second floor. While you were gone, Grace unlocked her phone and opened Twitter. It was Namjoon, of course, messaging in the group chat he’d started with Grace and Lily.

RM_fan_94: Around five or six hours left on my flight. How are things going? Is she okay?

GracieGirl: She’s fine, Namjoon. She has consumed around six cups of tea since we’ve been here, tho. Your girl has a problem…

RM_fan_94: She sounds like me with coffee haha

RM_fan_94: Do either of you have tips for when I get there?

GracieGirl: I’m going to send you navigation from the entrance of the school to the library, but besides that, it should be fine. We’re sitting in this little area on the bottom floor.

GracieGirl: It’s her favorite spot, so there’s no way we’re moving.

GracieGirl: Plus, this place is full bc of exams, so we couldn’t really move if we tried.

GracieGirl: Once you get here, go through the door on the front of the building (facing the giant bird statue) and go down the stairs. It’s basically impossible to miss her. She has hot pink hair.

GracieGirl: Also, she’s wearing a BTS shirt.

RM_fan_94: Awwwwww that’s my girl.

Lilyyyy: Exam is FINISHED!! Operation Babysit (Y/N) Commences!

RM_fan_94: I hope you did well!

Lilyyyy: Omg where did she find you? You’re so perfect?? And sweet?? Did she make you in a lab??

RM_fan_94: Probably haha omg. But no, after many debates over the topic, I’ve concluded that she is the perfect one in this relationship. I’m just her hype man.

GracieGirl: Oooookay, Mr. Superstar, whatever you say.

Lilyyyy: Y’all are cute as fuck. I can’t wait for tonight!!!

Namjoon paused for a while before he typed out his next message, sighing to himself as he laid his head back against the seat again.

RM_fan_94: Me either…

***

You sat at the table, drilling film terms until your head started buzzing.You had watched your project so many times, you couldn’t stare at the editing program for another second, or you were sure you would go insane. So, instead, you were studying for your Film Analysis class, reteaching yourself about motifs and mise-en-scene and all of the other terms from the beginning of the semester that had been buried by all of the new things you’d learned thus far.

You still felt itchy. Maybe moreso now than when you had woken up, but itchy nonetheless. It was an odd feeling, like something was hanging over your head, something real and heavy and dropping fast. And yet, the more you thought about it, the less it made sense. Nothing was happening. You were fine. Everything was fine. It was just stress. Yes, of course, that’s what it was. Stress. Logical.

The only thing hanging over your head was your exams and the upcoming flight to Korea. That’s all it was, and it made perfect sense.

You sighed and checked the time on your phone. It was six, and you were hungry. You’d had a muffin for brunch and nothing since then. Time for a break, then. You got up and both Grace and Lily looked, wide-eyed.

“Where are you going?” Lily blurted when she saw you grab your keys.

“I’m hungry.”

“Oh. Gotcha. I’ll come with.” Lily offered, picking up her keys too. “If we take the tunnels, we don’t even have to go outside.”

“That is a good point.” You agreed, waving to Grace, the appointed guardian of your things for the time-being, seeing as she had grabbed food thirty minutes ago while you and Lily were busy working.

The two of you walked through the library and through the tunnels that connected the learning center to the building next to it, where there was a selection of fast food places. You got in line at the sandwich place and scrolled through Twitter, your thumb moving to send something funny to Namjoon until you remembered, stopping in place, that Namjoon’s phone was broken.

Your heart sank a little, but you saved the link so you could send it to him later.

“You okay?” Lily nudged your arm and you nodded. “Something wrong?”

“Namjoon broke his phone, so I can’t talk to him…” You sighed. “But I’m glad he told me. Is it weird I miss him? Also, I’m itchy.”

“You’re...itchy?” Lily giggled. “You might want to get a cream for that, sweetie, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“I know, it’s weird.” You agreed, laughing with her. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just nerves from...everything, you know?”

“Yeah, I think I kind of get that.” Lily nodded. It was a good thing you were busy with your phone or you definitely would have noticed the knowing smile blooming across her features. If only you knew what was in store for you in two short hours…

***

When Namjoon got off the plane, he was shaking. Every part of him, trembling in anticipation. He fumbled with his suitcase, struggling to get it out of the luggage check without dropping it. His heart raced. He was here, like twenty minutes from your school, and as soon as his Uber texted him, he’d be on his way.

Namjoon reached into his pocket to check the time. It was around eight, so according to your friends, you’d still be in the library by now, but he figured he’d better send a heads-up just in case. His fingers were shaking almost too much to punch in the message, but somehow, he managed, pressing send after reading over it once or twice.

RM_fan_94: Just landed. Uber should be here soon. I’ll be there twenty minutes after that. Keep her busy.

His face was flushed, heart pounding, banging against his ribcage in hopes to escape and run down the street to find you. God, you were so close. You two had never been this close. There had almost always been an ocean between you, at least, since you’d started communicating. And now, all that was standing in his way was a car ride. Namjoon almost couldn’t stand it.

So, nervous as all hell, Namjoon started pacing in the lobby of the airport until he finally got the notification and went sprinting for the front doors and into the van of his Uber driver.

Every atom in his body was buzzing, buzzing, buzzing and burning as he got closer and closer to the gates of your college. He read the signs on the side of the road. Twenty miles turned to ten, which turned to five. Namjoon felt dizzy, suffocated by his rapidly-approaching destiny. He was sprinting towards it, now, a handful of miles standing between him and the love of his life.

In the passing streetlights, Namjoon could make out the lettering on his wrist. The tattoo that had started this all. He remembered his excitement the moment his fingers brushed against your first letter and the words tingled into existence on his skin. He remembered when all he had to go on was a name and the fact that you were from the States. He remembered the overwhelming joy that washed over him when you sent him the first picture of you, dressed up as Wonder Woman and smiling like you didn’t have a care in the world. He remembered your first phone call, the way his veins pulsed when he finally heard your voice.

All of it was coming to a peak, now. The precipice. This was the beginning of something very new, something uncharted for himself and the rest of the members in BTS.

Without warning, his Uber driver reached the traffic light to turn onto campus. It flicked from red to green, and he drove across the halted lanes of opposite traffic, under the giant arch that marked the beginning of your school. This was it. There was no going back now.

***

Something was wrong with Lily and Grace. They were acting weird. Both of them had gotten a notification from some mysterious group chat, and now neither of them could look you in the eye. It was odd, to say the very least.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep! Just peachy!” Grace lied through her teeth, beaming at you innocently. Something very, very strange was afoot, but you were too burned-out to attempt to get to the bottom of it.

So, seeing as your drink was empty once again, you stood up and began the trek to the tea store up the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Lily asked, almost shooting up out of her seat.

“I need more tea.” You shrugged, looking from Lily to Grace. “I’ll be back in like five minutes tops.”

“Okay.” Lily nodded, walking to the bathroom to cover up the fact that she’d shot up so fast to attempt to stop you.

Shaking your head at the strange behavior, you finished walking up the steps and stood in line at the tea store, ordering yet another iced drink. By this time, the barista didn’t even need to ask. It only took him a few minutes to get your drink to you and then you were on your way back down the stairs to the table. You were sitting down when your phone rang with a call...from Namjoon. Your eyebrows furrowed until you realized it was like ten in the morning in Korea, so his phone must have gotten fixed.

Brightening immediately, you picked up.

“Hey babe! Did you get your phone fixed?”

“I did…” His voice sounded weird. You could hear his tone and his breath shaking with each word. “Good thing, too…”

“Joon, is everything okay?”

“Great, baby, everything is great. Super, super great. I just...God…” And then he hung up, his connection cutting out, assumably. Your eyebrows furrowed, waiting for him to call back, like he usually did when your Skype calls cut out, but he didn’t.

“Something wrong?” Lily asked, almost unable to hide the grin on her face. Grace subtly held her phone, obviously recording. She had been since you got back with your tea. And yet, your head was buzzing too much for you to notice.

“I think his phone cut out.” You said softly, staring at the screen as you contemplated calling him back. You waited for a few more seconds before you noticed someone standing at the bottom of the steps. He was tall, his long frame dressed in an oversized black shirt and ripped jeans, tufts of pink hair sticking down out of his black baseball cap.

Maybe it was the pink hair that caused you to look back down at your work for a split second before your heart lurched and you did a double-take. You studied him, frozen and wide-eyed. You urged your legs to get up so you could get a closer look, but they weren’t listening.

You put your hands on the table, pushing yourself to a standing position as Lily and Grace giggled. Your legs wobbled with each slow step over to him. He was frozen, too, an amused grin on his face as he watched the wheels turn in your head, dimples on full display.

“N-Namjoon?” You whispered, tears fogging up your vision. You covered your mouth with your hands, taking a step forward and then a little step back, still unsure if this was actually happening or if it was some cruel hallucination, cooked up by twelve hours of staring at a book and taking notes.

“It’s just me, baby.” He reassured softly. “I’m right here.”

That was all the reassurance you needed. He set down his duffle bag and opened his arms, waiting for your legs to finally get the message from your brain. Eventually, they did, and you broke into a run, closing the distance between you until you were jumping into his arms, legs wrapped tight around his hips. One of his large hands came to rest under your thigh, and the other fastened around your back, rubbing comforting circles as your floodgates finally opened, a cascade of tears following.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He tried to hush your sobs, but he realized after a few seconds that he was crying too.

“How did you get here?” You croaked. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to come surprise my girl.” He chuckled softly, happy tears rolling down his cheeks. “I knew you’d need a little pick-me-up for exam week.”

“So you just came at the drop of a hat?”

“This has been planned for months, baby. It’s all worked out, I promise.” Namjoon was still holding you, your legs firmly gripping his waist, but he pulled away to look at you up close. You were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, even with trails of black mascara running down your cheeks. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

“I look like a mess.” You shook your head, chuckling at how much of a disaster you probably looked on today of all days. Of course on the one day that mattered, you looked like you’d just been hit by the bus.

“Baby, you’re the most beautiful person on the planet.” Namjoon pressed a long kiss to your forehead, closing his eyes before murmuring, “You look perfect, always. I love you, jagiya.”

“I love you too.” You took a moment there to look at him, to really look at this man who held the other half of your soul in his heart. You raised your hands to his cheeks and gave his dimples a pinch, earning a laugh from him. “You’re real…”

“Weird, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t count how many times he’d heard that from ARMYs all over the world. Although, it was never as tender or careful as this statement.

“Mmhmm.” You hummed, studying his features up close, squishing his dimpled cheeks together. “Joonie?”

“What?”

Your eyes lingered on the pillows of his plush lips. They were calling to you. “I want to kiss you.”

“Then kiss me.” He replied, leaning in slowly to meet you in the middle. It was electric, sparks flying the moment your lips melted against his larger, warmer ones. You almost forgot you were in public until you heard cheers from all of the other brain-dead students flooding the library currently. Blushing, you reluctantly pulled away from Namjoon, finally unwrapping your legs from his hips and settling yourself back on the floor.

“Was it worth the wait?” You whispered, taking his hand and leading him back over to where your grinning friends had pulled up a fourth chair.

“I would wait a hundred years for you if I had to.”

“You’re cheesy.” You scrunched your nose and looked up at him. You knew all along that he would tower over you, but up close it was entirely different. Namjoon seemed to notice too, as he looked down on you gingerly. He leaned forward and pressed another lingering kiss to your forehead, pulling you against his chest.

“So are you.”

“That’s fair.” You giggled into the fabric of his shirt before finally sitting down with him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you no matter how hard he tried. But eventually, he did turn to give his thanks to Lily and Grace.

“Thank you, ladies. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Grace smiled. Lily nodded in agreement.

You, however, looked between the three of them with wide eyes. “You knew???”

“Explains a lot, doesn’t it?” Lily chuckled, shrugging as she got back to her studying.

“Congratulations, you two.” Gace bidded before slipping her headphones back over her ears.

Namjoon took your hand in his own, scooching his chair closer to yours. He studied your little fingers with a smile before bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it. This, he imagined, was what the rest of your little forever looked like, and he wouldn’t have it any other way...

Tagged: @iie-wakarimasen , @ffantasylandd, @jooniefluff, @chimchimsauce, @mrs-saeyoung-choi, @theprinceoftheundead, @angyexoxo, @copenhagenspirit, @lovelylittlekittn, @lilgaga98, @iminlovewjjk, @feed-my-geek-soul, @loveandwitch, @recoveringflowerchild, @demonic-meatball, @maddieisaacs, @scissorsandtonfas, @carirosesg, @backtonormalthings, @local-mochi, @faliwi, @spoopyela, @nanie5, @ingenu--e, @undiscovered1personality, @andalos, @calspixie, @filtermono, @huhuehuey, @mikey-girl12, @lilliaflurr, @hypophrenium, @sitkafay, @spiicyari, @andeerwilson, @btswerewolfaus, @oyasumi7, @mycurrentusernameisalreadytaken, @gangstavixsta

#armyofwriters #kpopwonderlandtag #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #bts #bts imagine #fluff #soulmate au #bts soulmate au #rm #rm x reader #rm imagine #signed sealed delivered

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master-sass-blast · 5 years

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The Sleepover Fic

WELL, THIS ENDED DIFFERENTLY THAN I HAD PLANNED. GOOD LORD.

Summary: You enjoy a sleepover night with the X-Force at the X-Mansion --but partway through you get hit by a wall of depression. Fortunately, Piotr’s there to help you through it.

(Maybekindaprobablydefinitely inspired by the depressive episode I’ve had this week.)

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader and Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson (sorta).

Rating: T for language and depression.

@marvel-is-perfection

The idea, admittedly, is ridiculous. And that’s why you love it so much.

You’re camped out in the rec room with the rest of the X-Force, perched on the couch next to Piotr in your best set of pajamas --which, admittedly, were just a pair of pants that said ‘bacon makes everything better’ over and over and a random t-shirt. “Okay. So how does this sleepover thing work?”

The rec room’s been completely transformed, floor covered with various sleeping bags, cushions, air mattresses, blankets, and pillows. A pile of snacks covers every inch of the coffee table, along with a few soda bottles.

“Watch and learn, young padawan,” Wade says theatrically, waggling his nonexistent eyebrows for emphasis. As the self-appointed ‘party planner,’ he’d taken it upon himself to make sure that you and Russell checked off another box on the ‘well-rounded experiences’ list. “If you’re good, I might even let you try a little cocaine later.”

“No,” Piotr says automatically, acting as the self-appointed-but-also-kinda-volun-told adult of the night. “Absolutely not.”

“I was kidding, Russia’s Greatest Love Machine. Geez. I don’t share my coke with anyone.”

Yukio giggles while Neena --who’s only staying for a few hours, citing ‘having an actual life to get back to’ for why she’s leaving early--braids her hair. “So, what do you have planned, Wade?”

“Since when does Wade plan anything?” Ellie fires back, deadpan, while she continues beating Russell in Mario Kart.

“Well, I figured we’d hit all the sleepover staples,” Wade chirps. “A little Truth or Dare, some never have I ever, ooh, maybe some Seven Minutes in Heaven--”

“Several of us are minors, douchepool,” Ellie interjects, still deadpan.

“Okay, not that, then. And, when the night starts to wane, we’ll wrap everything up with a massive movie marathon. First person asleep gets pranked!”

“Nyet.”

“Oh, come on, you silver buzzkill! Pranking the first person to fall asleep is a fundamental part of any sleepover!”

“I would allow it if your pranks weren’t so destructive.”

“Okay, name one thing I’ve destroyed in the past twenty-four hours!”

“We’ll be here longer than a night if he does that, dipshit,” Nathan grumbles; he’s also only hanging around for a short period of time, but unlike Neena, his reason for leaving early amounts to ‘not sleeping in the same damn room as Wilson all night.’

Which, admittedly, given Wade’s tendencies to cuddle like an octopus, makes sense.

“Well, I think it sounds like a blast!” you say.

“Thank you!” Wade cheers. “Finally! You think I’d get more respect, considering this is my fucking franchise!”

You can’t help but laugh as Piotr cuts Wade off while Nathan presses his water bottle to his nose, looking endlessly annoyed. New experience or not, tonight was definitely promising to be a fantastic ride.

Truth or dare, as it turns out, is the best game ever to play with Wade Wilson.

First, he thinks of good parameters to keep things from getting boring; case in point, the first rule he establishes is that you can’t pick the same option three times in a row, thus keeping people from sticking to the --arguably safer--truth option for too long.

Second, he actually took the time to write down a bunch of suggestions from a website beforehand, thus preventing the inevitable ‘everyone’s run out of good ideas’ drudge.

Third, he mandates that all dare must be filmed for posterity’s sake. They can be deleted afterwards, but everything has to be caught on camera and reviewed by the group first.

Which is exactly how you find yourself watching a video of Piotr doing a traditional Cossack dance.

“This is amazing,” you giggle as you send the video to your email account.

Piotr simply shakes his head as he sits back down next to you. “If you say so.”

Things get better from there. You get to watch Ellie do a very flat rendition of ‘I’m a Little Teapot’ --which is funnier than it has any right to be--and watch Russell do a solidly decent lip sync to Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies.’

Funnier still is watching Wade try to bust Neena with truths and dares, only to somehow draw the most benign options from the bowls each time.

“How?” Wade screams when Neena does an effortless set of cartwheels. “I wrote these! There wasn’t even a cartwheel option in there! What sort of fourth wall, author interference bullshit is this?”

“Well, that’s another dare done for me,” Neena says, purposefully cheerful for the sake of pissing off Wade even more. “I guess it’s my turn. Cable --truth or dare?”

Nathan rolls his eyes, mutters something under his breath that is most definitely a string of profanities, and grumbles, “Dare.”

Neena fishes around in the dare bowl before selecting a piece of folded Hello Kitty stationary. “Ask a neighbor if they have a condom you can borrow.”

Ellie lets out a snort. “Do it to Scott. Ask Scott.”

Nathan’s face goes deadly blank --and then his techno-organic eye flares as the corner of his mouth turns up in a vicious grin. “Yeah. Wade, I need your help for this.”

“Hey, you have to ask--”

“I’m asking. I just need you to stand next to me while I do it.”

Ellie practically falls off her air mattress as she cackles. “Fuck yeah. Wait, I’m coming to watch.”

All of you wind up following Nathan to Scott’s room, standing in various positions in the hall while Nathan knocks on the door with his human hand.

(For the record, the look on Scott’s face when Nathan asks him for a condom while Wade waggles his fingers at the bespectacled man is absolutely priceless.)

After that, Truth or Dare is declared ‘done’ on account of the fact that nothing will ever top that moment.

Things detour to a Mario Kart tournament, in which Ellie proves that Neena’s lucky powers have limits.

“This is the best thing ever!” Wade cheers as Neena comes second to Ellie’s first --again. “I take back what I said about you, author! You’re amazing!”

You shoot a confused look at Piotr, and opt to settle back against his side when he shrugs, expression easily confused. “Hey, Wade, you’re good at Mario Kart, right?”

“Well, I don’t want to toot my horn, but my skills in Mario Kart come in second only to my skills at Skee-Ball.”

“Do you think you could beat Ellie?”

Wade’s eyes narrow when Ellie barks out a laugh. “Oh, you think you can win?” He swipes a controller off the coffee table and plops down next to her. “Bring it on, Negasonic Soon-To-Be Loser.”

The match is over sooner than you ever would’ve expected for two reasons.

First: Ellie and Wade decide to jump straight to the hardest option possible --Rainbow Road in Mirror Mode.

Second: No one has the stomach to watch anything on the TV afterwards.

(For the record, Ellie wins, and Wade isn’t happy about it).

Never Have I Ever doesn’t last long, either. Mostly because Wade’s done just about everything anyone can think of, or has had just about everything happen to him.

It does result in some awesome story-telling, though. After a certain point, the game completely tapers off in favor of telling stories entirely. Wade and Neena both have the best, hands down, but Piotr and Yukio come in at a close second thanks to their unique backgrounds and heritages.

You quickly realize, though, that you don’t really have anything worth contributing to the story-time session. There’s nothing from your childhood that’s really worth repeating, and your friends already know everything that’s happened to you here.

Suddenly, you feel completely detached from the room, from your friends, from everything. It’s like someone’s cut the cords keeping you tethered to the world and you’re drifting away from reality.

You get up abruptly, managing a smile and citing some sort of excuse about needing to use the bathroom, and get the fuck out of there.

The bathrooms at Xavier’s, unfortunately, aren’t designed for one person at a time. They’re built like locker room restrooms --albeit much cleaner--with multiple stalls and sinks.

You take the stall furthest from the entry, lock yourself in, tuck your legs up as you sit on the toilet lid, and hope that no one comes looking for you.

You aren’t sure if you want to cry. You can feel the sensation tugging at you --grief, rage, pain--but it seems just as distant as the rec room, numbed by your unwitting ejection from reality.

A larger part of you just wants to disappear for a bit. Slip upstairs, get in bed, hide in the darkness of your room.

They probably wouldn’t even notice I was gone, you think --even your internal voice seems dulled in the face of this sudden shut down. It’s not like I was really contributing anything anyway.

A different part of you doesn’t want to leave your friends, if only because you don’t want to have to explain what’s going on; fuck, you barely even understand it yourself.

That, and they’d probably come looking for you if you did head up to your room, and as much as you love them you just want to vanish right now and get away from the noise that’s always everywhere--

You let your forehead rest against your knees. Fuck. The fuck’s wrong with me?

By the time you manage to uncurl yourself and stand up --and it takes a while if the stiffness in your legs are anything to go by--you’ve made up your mind. I’ll just say I wasn’t feeling well and decided to go to bed if anyone asks tomorrow morning.

You don’t get too far with your plan, though, because Neena and Piotr are waiting for you just outside the bathroom door.

You flinch back, startled. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Neena says with a sunny smile. “I’m heading out for the night. Wanted to make sure I said good-bye.”

The ‘need to disappear’ feeling only gets worse, more grating and jarring, when she wraps her arms around you. Fuck. This is hell. You manage to eek out a ‘good night’ and let out a shaky breath as she walks away.

Because you’re not out of the woods yet. Piotr’s still here, watching you with gentle concern.

He brushes his fingers against your upper arm. “Are you alright, myshka?”

Your brain completely cuts out, leaving you adrift and barely able to stay upright. Talk. Say something, for fuck’s sake!

Instead, you just let out a breath and sag against him.

He kisses the top of your head and wraps his arms around your body. “How about we step outside, just for moment? I think fresh air would do you good.”

You let him steer you towards the front door, moving without thought. You suck in a breath when the cool night air hits you, rattling your brain a little from whatever’s come over you.

Piotr, to his credit, doesn’t leave you. He keeps his arms around you, rubs his hands up and down your back, kisses the top of your head, lets you lean against him like he’s the only thing in the world keeping you upright.

He kinda is, if you think about it.

He stays quiet, though, just letting you suck in breath after breath of fresh night air, letting your press your face against his chest and just breathe.

“You gonna ask me what’s wrong?” You ask after a while, voice a little too sharp, a little too acidic in the face of your unwelcome melancholy.

Piotr just kisses the top of your head. “Do you want me to?”

He’s gentle, not passive aggressive in the least, genuinely giving you an out if you don’t want to talk about it.

I don’t deserve him. “I just wanna disappear. Everything feels... like it’s too much.”

“Did not having happy stories from your childhood upset you?”

Bam. Right on the money. Whoever’s said that Piotr Rasputin is an idiot is dead wrong --blindly optimistic at times, yes, but never stupid.

“The fuck am I even contributing to the group?” You let out a bitter laugh. “Shit, I’m such a downer. Can’t enjoy everyone else’s happiness, can’t contribute my own.”

“Nights like these aren’t about equal contribution,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your forehead. “And it’s okay to be sad that you don’t have similar tales. Besides, not everyone contributed equally. Cable was mostly silent as well, as was Russell.”

You let out a frustrated huff. “Yeah, but --I just-- Piotr, what’s the point of having me around if I can’t keep up with everyone? What’s the point of me being a part of the X-Force if I can’t contribute outside of fights? We’re supposed to be a team --a family.”

Piotr clasps your upper arms gently as he crouches in front of you so you can see his face in the dim light of the moon and the lights from inside the mansion. “Myshka, family means we take ups with downs. You do not have to be happy all the time --especially if something upsets you. And aside from your many valuable skills --and there are many--we keep you around because we want you with us. You, as you are, is enough.”

Your throat constricts at the thought, and you bury your face in his shoulder in an effort to hide your tears. “I just wanna be good enough.”

“You are,” Piotr croons gently in your ear. His arms wrap around you, shielding you from the chill of the night and bathing you in warmth and love. “You are more than good enough, myshka.”

When you finally come down from your grief --pain, anger, sorrow, everything--who knows how much time later, you find that your brain’s turned back on.

Not all the way. But just a little. Just enough.

You slump against Piotr’s shoulder and chest. “I dunno if I wanna go back to the group. I kinda just wanna go back to bed.”

“Do you think that’s what would be best for you?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Khorosho. That’s fine. How about this: come watch one movie with us. If you still want to go to bed after, you can. If not, you stay with group.”

You let out a shaky sigh and nod. “Okay. That works.”

You almost chicken out as you walk towards the rec room. You can feel everything shutting off again, and you don’t want to suck a night of enjoyment away from the group.

But Piotr’s hand is a comforting, solid presence on yours, a tether to reality that you can’t bear to let go off.

The warm light of the rec room almost seems too bright as you step over the threshold, and you grip Piotr’s hand tighter.

Yukio greets you with a bright, sunny smile and pulls you in for a hug. She doesn’t mention your red eyes or puffy cheeks or the fact that you were gone for so long. “We need someone to break a tie on the first movie choice.”

“Listen, Negasonic-My-Name-Won’t-Age-Well, ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’ is a literal, actual classic. It deserves to go first.”

“And ‘Get Out’ is both cutting edge and critically acclaimed. I still don’t see you making any points that actually tilt the argument in your favor.”

“Will someone just make a damn decision?” Nathan growls as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

You manage to smile, buoyed by your friends’ enthusiasm, as everyone looks at you. “‘Get Out’ first. I have a feeling we’ll need Monty Python to cheer us all up after.”

“Go to sleep, lyublyu.”

You blink wearily, the images of ‘Robin Hood: Men in Tights’ blurring before your eyes. You’d made it through the first three movies just fine, but you were barely holding on now. “I don’t wanna fall asleep first. Wade’s gonna prank me.”

Piotr lets out a gentle, quiet laugh and points surreptitiously across the room. “I do not think that will be problem.”

You manage to lift your head and clear your vision long enough to see that Wade’s long since passed out, slumped against an equally dead to the world Nathan. “They so like each other.”

Piotr chuckles and tugs you back down against his chest. “Da. Now rest, moya lyubov’. Everything will be fine.”

You lay your head down and finally let your eyes close.

You wake up on the couch alone, carefully tucked under a quilt and head propped up on a pillow.

It doesn’t take too long to figure out where Piotr went thanks to the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen --and the tone deaf humming; Piotr’s many things, but a naturally gifted singer is not one of them.

You sit up and stretch, rolling your shoulders and neck to work out the stiffness that came from not sleeping a proper bed with a proper pillow.

Nathan and Wade are nowhere to be seen; presumably, they’ve gone back to their rooms --or room if Wade managed to invite himself into Nathan’s bed without getting punched.

Ellie, Yukio, and Russell are still asleep on the floor, cushioned by air mattresses and blankets. Russell’s sprawled out like a starfish, and Ellie and Yukio are holding hands even though they’re sleeping on separate mattresses.

There’s a notification on your phone --a text from Neena.

Neener Wiener: Hope you’re feeling better this morning.

And you...

You are feeling better. Not completely, but a little.

It’s something.

You smile to yourself, just a little, and get up to join your boyfriend in the kitchen.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #cablepool #sleepovers are fun until the depression kicks in #words to live by #this got a lot angstier than i'd planned on #sorry about that #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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losille2000 · 7 years

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Building Happiness, Chapters 4 - 6

CHAPTER NUMBER: Chapter 4 - Chapter 6 AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH ALEX/CHARACTER: AU!Alexander Skarsgård GENRE: Romance FIC SUMMARY: Life as Alexander knows it unravels when he takes over as CEO of the family business for his retiring father—especially when his modern ideals collide with the past. The fact that he also has to deal with a distracting new assistant doesn’t help matters any, either. Alex struggles to step out from under his father’s shadow and eventually find happiness and fulfillment in his career and love life. RATING: M WARNINGS: Language and sex. AUTHORS NOTES: See them here. I am working on reposting this story as I am bringing some of the characters into The Chocolate Affair, namely Alex and Rory. Old fic, unedited, you’ve been warned. Rory and Christine will have a similar backstory, but that’s on purpose.

Prologue-Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Friday rolled around before Rory knew it. She rarely saw her boss but for a few times when he appeared in the office to grab a few files only to leave again—without her. After Kristina’s insight into the inner workings of the company on Monday, Rory wondered if it was an avoidance technique so he didn’t have to think about the future. Still, she worried that she had started out on the wrong foot with him if he wasn’t asking her to do things in the same way he obviously relied on Kristina.

Like Alexander had said, the work wasn’t particularly difficult, but there were definitely many tiny details she had to learn to be successful from operating the technology the company used to how one communicated within and outside the company confines.

Though she had used a great deal of technology in her job as an archivist, the amount of technology that had been thrown at her now was staggering for a person who mostly relied on books and papers. After all was said and done, she felt like she could open up shop as a small electronics store with the number of gadgets the IT guys has deposited on her desk Tuesday morning.

Learning how to take Alexander’s calls was another headache entirely. Screen all calls and only calls from the upper level board members and his family could be patched through to him. All others were to leave a message. Though Alexander usually gave his cell phone number to people he wanted to contact him directly, including women, at times they called the office for him. They were to go through to his voicemail. Appointments were to be run by him before they were scheduled, unless it was an appointment he asked her to make in which she could just fit it into the schedule and email him the details.

Expenses were to be entered into the accounting software at the end of each week and forwarded to his accountant. Rory had tried desperately not to balk at the amount of money spent on some of these bills, but it was difficult to ignore the fact that one monthly mortgage payment alone was her total salary for the year. This drove home the fact that she was no longer in small town America. Frankly, she hardly felt like she was in America any more. Or even on the same planet. She was in a radically different world. A confusing, sometimes backwards world.

What little Alexander had said or explained to her had been short and perfunctory. There was no getting to know each other, even in the professional sense. He’d been very quiet. Not that she was helping, either. She found it difficult to start a topic, especially as flustered as she became around him and the fact that she just didn’t know where to start. They were clearly different people. What could they possibly talk about?

However, at four thirty Friday afternoon, as she slowly wound down from the intense week, ready to have two days to recuperate for the next, the inevitable happened. Alexander had sequestered himself in his office for most of the day and she imagined he would be in there long after she left so it surprised her when the phone beside her beeped. The screen lit up, showing it was coming from Alexander’s office.

“Yes?” she said into the receiver.

“Please bring me the printed board meeting minutes from Monday,” he said.

“Sure,” she replied. Rory set the phone back in its cradle and went to the filing cabinet where they kept the notes. She walked toward his office and took a moment to breathe in a deep breath before pushing back the door.

He sat behind his desk, surrounded by papers and files, his short hair falling across his forehead, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie was missing, slung over the suit coat on the couch across the room. Every time she had seen him before, there had never been anything out of place about him—from his hair right down to his expensive leather shoes. Even Wednesday when he had shown up in a polo and khakis in preparation to go golfing, he had seemed perfect and untouchable.

Clearly something was awry. Or perhaps he wasn’t as perfect as she originally thought. It certainly did a great deal toward making him more real to her.

He looked up and extended his hand for the thick book of notes, setting it on his desk. Instead of turning to his work, he leaned back in his seat. “Have a seat.”

“Okay,” Rory replied, sitting carefully into the chair across from him. She folded her hands in her lap and met his eyes.

“I want to apologize about not being around much for your first week,” he said. “It’s insane with the transition and everything my father has me doing. But… I just wanted to check in and see how everything was going.”

“It’s good,” Rory said. “Kristina taught me a lot this week, so I just hope I have everything.”

Alexander nodded. “Do you feel comfortable enough to go on your first business outing with me?”

She didn’t feel comfortable, but she’d never admit that to him for fear of being considered slow. Yet the tasks of her job weren’t the problem. Their discomfort with each other was the main problem. Even as she sat here speaking with him, she wanted to be any other place than in the hot seat. And he clearly didn’t even know where to begin. “I’m confident in the tasks of my job, and the only way I will learn what to do on a business trip is by going with you and doing it.”

He smiled. “I like the attitude. I know it’s a lot to remember, and I want to be make sure that you feel confident enough that there won’t be any big mistakes if I were to take you.”

“I can do it,” she said flatly.

Alexander nodded. “Good. Kristina is going on this trip as well, but she’ll only be able to help you periodically. She’ll be focusing more on her own work since this is a charity function.”

“Okay,” she said.

“We leave at 8 tomorrow morning for New York,” Alexander said.

“Oh… okay,” she said. It took her a moment to run through her memory and figure out what was happening in New York.

Alexander pursed his lips. “You are aware of my engagements in New York, correct?”

Rory froze, hearing the tension in his voice. He had misunderstood her surprise. Of course she knew what he had planned—it was a week long series of events to commemorate the centennial anniversary of the American-Scandinavian Foundation culminating in a ball the following Friday. Kristina had explained the week at length since she had organized their attendance and donations to the event.

“Yes, I am aware,” Rory said. “Sorry… I was just caught a little off guard. I know this is huge and I knew Kristina was going so I didn’t expect to go.”

He nodded. “Like I said, Kristina is going to have enough of a headache with her own work. It’s going to be big for us this year because my father is being honored with the Gold Medal Award and also officially announcing his retirement.”

“I understand,” she said. “I’ll be fine, like I said.”

Alexander nodded and turned back to his work, sufficiently ending the conversation in a way she had somewhat become accustomed to in the past week. Rory sighed again and shook her head, getting up and leaving the office, shutting the door behind her. Kristina was at her desk when she returned, flipping through a file.

“I heard,” Kristina said. “Do you feel ready?”

“We’ll certainly see,” Rory laughed.

Kristina playfully smacked her arm. “Oh, I know you’ll be great. And that’s just because I taught you.”

“You possess such confidence,” Rory said. “I wish I felt like you do.”

“You have it in you, trust me,” Kristina replied, sitting on the edge of the cubicle desk. “Just believe in yourself and it will all come along.”

The problem was, she didn’t really believe in herself. She never had.

Rory sighed. “I have to find a pet sitter… do you know anyone?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll get the number for you.”

“And then I have to go shopping tonight… I don’t think we’ll be able to go out like we’d planned,” Rory said.

Kristina chuckled. “We have Monday to do some serious damage shopping. We’ll go together and use my company card for the evening stuff you need since you haven’t received your card yet.”

“What exactly can I buy with the clothing allowance?” Rory asked.

“Anything you need,” Kristina replied. “But most major fashion houses know me or Alexander and the company, and usually allow us to borrow dresses for big events so we don’t have to pay the high price tag. Everyday things you want to keep have to come out of your allowance.”

“Okay,” Rory said.

Kristina smiled. “Don’t worry about it, hon. We’ll get you all set on Monday.”

Rory nodded. She hated shopping, most of all for clothes. She’d never been thin exactly, but also never round. She was what she liked to call “solid”. It was difficult to find clothing that fit correctly, straddling a line between two different sizing guidelines. And frankly, she just didn’t care enough about fashion to care. She’d decided a long time ago she abhorred shopping and being girly. She was more comfortable in a pair of jeans than she ever would be in a skirt, and she had planned to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, by the twinkle in Kristina’s eyes, Rory knew she wasn’t going to get out of this without at least one dress.

“But you’re right, we can’t go out tonight,” Kristina said. “Too much to do… by the way…” Kristina held up a finger and walked around to her cubicle, returning with a well-worn book. “You’ll want to read this.”

“The Idiot’s Guide to Scandinavia,” Rory muttered, reading the cover.

“Chapter four is marked… it explains how to address the various royals we’re going to be meeting this week,” Kristina said. “It has been a lifesaver these last ten years. Alexander gave it to me as a joke because I told him he needed a user manual.”

Rory laughed, fanning the pages quickly. “Oh, god. Good thing I read fast.”

Kristina nodded. “See, the librarian training comes in handy!”

“No kidding,” Rory said, glancing at the clock. “Can you text me the number to the pet sitter? I still have to run to the store for some things before we go.”

Kristina smiled. “I will. I’ll see you at the airport an hour before takeoff.”

“Awesome,” Rory replied, gathering her things and shutting down her computer to leave the office and prepare for a week of work in New York.

Alexander leaned back in his office chair, staring at the door Rory had just closed behind her. He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes, trying to find some way to gather what little energy and good grace he had left. He’d need a whole heap of it this coming week, especially knowing his family would be there with him, likely attempting to give him an aneurysm.

His father would be at his shoulder to tell him repeatedly he was doing everything wrong, while Gurra would sit silently back with that imperious demeanor of his. His mother would be there with her ever-present mask of indifference, supporting his father and family, though his parents weren’t currently on speaking terms with each other. Sam would be flouncing about, ever the tortured artist who happened to be showing a few pieces at the Scandinavian art installation opening Wednesday. Eija would make sure to be the spoiled brat, while Valter, his youngest sibling, kept trying to break out of everyone else’s shadow.

It was a recipe for disaster that he had been dreading the entire week. No, for the last month since he found out his father was being awarded such a prestigious honor. The only way he was going to get through it would be by having a solid foundation in the support of his team. It was imperative that his new assistant knew what she was supposed to be doing and where she was supposed to be at all times to accommodate him on this trip.

For a moment, he had worried she wasn’t ready. He did know she was petrified of the tasks ahead of her though she hid her nerves relatively well. Kristina had been giving him reports all week about her progress while he had been out of the office. She’d given a glowing report on the woman, but concurred that there was a confidence issue. He knew he was throwing her into the fire, and she would either go up in flames or make it out unscathed, but it would be better that way. If she couldn’t hack it within two weeks, she certainly wouldn’t do any better in three months when her probation period was over.

He glanced back at his computer screen. His brain had finally reached the overload point when all the words on the screen appeared to be some form of gibberish. It was his cue that it was time to leave work.

He gathered his things together, trying to put his paperwork into some semblance of an order to stick in his briefcase. Finally satisfied with his organization, he grabbed his coat and headed out of the quiet office.

A cold gust of fall air blasted him as he stepped outside, but he was glad to feel it on his face instead of being cramped up in the office upstairs, in a cage that gave him no hope of escape. He was glad that he had walked the two miles to the office today instead of calling for his car. Walking would give him the opportunity to clear his mind and relieve some of the stress in his body.

He was about a mile from home, passing by the grocery store, when someone small collided with him. The person dropped whatever was in their hands directly on top of his food. This was followed by a string of strong curses that he barely made sense of as she mumbled them, but he recognized the low, husky Southern drawl instantly. It was feminine and smooth, and made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Shit,” she finished as he glanced down at her. Her pale green eyes stared large and mortified up at him. “I’m so sorry. I should really watch where I’m going.”

He laughed lightly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rory brushed back a piece of hair behind an ear and bent down to begin collecting the bags she had dropped. His eyes slid further down where a heavy bag of cat food sat on top of his foot. She struggled with the bags in her hands and reached for the cat food. He stopped her.

“I’ve got it,” he said, lifting it into his arms. She shot up quickly, her forehead smashing his nose. For a moment he saw stars, but the world came back into focus quickly.

“Oh god,” she said, her hand flying to her mouth. “I’m such a terrible klutz.”

Alexander laughed, testing his nose and pinching the bridge. “I think I’ll be fine. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time it was broken.”

“Huh?” she asked.

“Brothers,” he replied. “And maybe a few drunken nights.”

Rory laughed. “Is it really broken?”

“Nah,” he said.

“Again, I’m sorry,” she said. She held her arms out to him. “Can I have the cat food back?”

Alexander shook his head. “No, you can’t have it back. Where is your apartment?”

“Up the street a little way… in the Lakeshore East community.” She pointed in the direction of the condominium development he knew intimately.

“Ah,” he said. “I’m headed that way as well.”

Rory frowned but realization hit quickly. “What building are you in?”

“The Regatta,” he said. “Eighteenth floor.”

“The whole floor?” she asked blandly.

Alexander chuckled. “Yes. I built it that way. Great thing about being the developer’s son.”

Rory shook her head and looked around her, stepping out of the way of someone trying to get past her. “Okay, if you insist on carrying the cat food, you can just follow me.”

“I will,” he said. “Which building are you in?”

“The Aqua,” she said.

“How do you like it?” he questioned.

She shrugged. “It’s okay… the design is odd.”

Alexander knew he had brought it on himself asking about that building, but he had hoped for her praise. Hearing her unenthusiastic reply was sobering. “Oh?”

“It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong,” she said. “It’s just a weird design. At least my apartment is.”

“Well, you’ll just have to show me when I carry this up for you,” he said.

They walked in silence for some time, coming to a traffic light and having to stop to wait for the right of way. She looked up at him tentatively. “You seem displeased that I don’t like it.”

He shrugged. “I designed it. It was my big project in my masters program in school… but my father only just okayed the development of the building when we started the Lakeshore project.”

“I didn’t realize you did the whole development,” she replied. “I really should just keep my mouth shut.”

Alexander laughed. “You know, we give rent credits if you’re in one of our residential buildings.”

“You do?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Ask Sam about it when we get back from New York. He’ll fill you in on it.”

Rory chuckled. “God, I can’t wait to tell my mother that the rent went down. Wouldn’t you know she guilts me from hundreds of miles away about it all the time!”

“Try getting guilted halfway across the world,” he said.

“Your mother’s in Sweden?” she asked.

He nodded. “For now, anyway. With Dad retiring, he’ll be in Sweden semi-permanently. She’ll kill him in a week if she doesn’t get out.”

Rory didn’t reply and turned her attention to the street as they crossed. They walked through the side street up to the front of the building and made their way to her apartment on the twenty-fifth floor. She fumbled for her keys and let them into the darkening apartment, flicking on the side lamp.

“You can just set it down on the counter,” she said, pointing to the kitchen.

He hadn’t realized how tiny one of these convertible studios were with furniture in them. Of course, as ashamed as he was for thinking it, he wasn’t used to such a tiny living space. Even when he was stuck in a hotel, he had a suite of rooms.

Alexander glanced around the tiny apartment, noting that nothing seemed to be out of place. It was meticulously put together though sparsely decorated.

“Most of my stuff is still in Atlanta,” she said. “I knew I wouldn’t have the room here.”

A loud rumbling meow stole his attention and he looked down at the gray and white feline who was inching toward him.

“Chester, no,” she said.

The cat ignored her as only a cat could manage, and weaved his way around Alexander’s legs, leaving a trail of fine hairs. Chester finished his figure eight and sat down near his feet, looking up at him expectantly. He rubbed his head against his leg again for good measure.

Alexander glanced at Rory, who stood silently beside him with a look of concerned confusion. “What?” he asked.

“He… I… Chester is never friendly with men,” she said. “Normally I’d be extracting claws from legs right about now.”

“Did you train him to be a guard cat?” Alexander quipped.

Rory rolled her eyes. “No. He came that way from the adoption place.”

Alexander laughed and bent down, tentatively scratching behind the cat’s ears. He knew he was taking a risk of being attacked, but it seemed like the cat didn’t mind him. Relief flooded through him when Chester pressed harder into his leg.

“My cat is so weird,” she said. “Anyway… thank you for carrying the bag for me.”

“Oh, maybe he just likes me because I smell like cat food,” Alexander laughed.

“I doubt it,” she said. “Now, tuna on the other hand…”

She was interrupted by a knock on the front door.

“The pet sitter,” she mentioned.

Alexander knew it was time to leave. He definitely didn’t want to overstay his welcome, though he was thankful for the time to get to know her a little bit better before they were thrown together for the next week on business.

“I should probably go,” he said. “I still have to pack.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Rory walked him the few steps toward the door and opened it. He slipped out the door before Rory introduced herself to the pet sitter. He waited at the elevator, hearing her wonderful Southern drawl disappear as she shut her door. Alexander couldn’t help but smile, thinking of their conversation. She seemed so innocent. So naïve in the way of the big world. And yet, she also held a wisdom about her that betrayed her seemingly humble nature. It was a contradiction he didn’t understand, but he certainly planned on learning more about in the future. She was a calming presence in his otherwise hectic, confusing life.

She was definitely someone he needed in his life, if only as his assistant.

Chapter 5

Rory stepped onto the tarmac and stared at the sleek plane in front of her, yawning into her hand. She hadn’t slept much that night, after staying up late fretting over packing and then going over the schedule of events for the following week. She’d had only a cursory understanding of what would happen from her week of work. She hadn’t had the luxury of studying the schedule to memorize it and create a plan of attack. Since she had thought Kristina would be the only one to accompany Alexander on this trip, Rory hadn’t considered it important. It left her playing catch up overnight and exhausted before she had even boarded the jet.

“Not impressed, huh?” said a male voice beside her.

She jumped and turned, finding a tall man with dark brunette hair standing beside her. The man had come from a chauffeured car. Looking past him, she noticed a suited driver removing bags from the Towncar’s trunk and handing them off to a uniformed flight crew member. She glanced back at the man beside her. “Uh, no, not really.”

“Hrm… most people are impressed with the private jet,” said the man.

“I’ve seen a lot of planes in my life,” she said. “Try comparing it with an F-16 and we’ll talk.”

“Oh, but I can guarantee you this one’s prettier.”

“Maybe it is,” she said. “But not nearly as fun.”

“You a pilot?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, but my father was in the Army. I was around them all the time.”

“Ah,” said the man as he extended his hand. “I’m Sam Skarsgård.”

“Rory Fisher,” she said. “You must be the artist brother.”

Sam grinned. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

Rory laughed. “I only know you’re an artist as per Kristina. But you sound like a true Chicagoan… not like your brother.”

“That’s because it’s an act,” said a voice she recognized. Alexander stood behind them, squinting at the jet. He glanced down at her and replaced his sunglasses over his eyes.

“That’s not fair,” Sam said.

“Let’s not stare too long. We’re on a schedule here,” Alexander said. He pushed past them, strode to the stairs and ascended them with ease, ducking into the cabin.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Power’s already going to his head.”

“Maybe I should actually do my job,” Rory said, “And make sure everyone is on schedule and doing what they’re supposed to.”

“All I gotta say is good luck,” Sam said.

“Thanks, I’ll need it,” Rory laughed.

Sam winked and held out his arm. “Come on, toots. Let’s get in that fancy jet before the boss man flips a lid.”

Toots? Boss man? She didn’t know what she had been expecting upon meeting Alexander’s younger brother, but she certainly hadn’t pictured this. Especially not knowing how staid and even-tempered Alexander was, and how serious his other brother and father were on the videoconference. Instead of being a broody artist who sat in the corner at the coffee shop wearing all black, he was a ball of energy with a flamboyance that was refreshing.

She took his arm and he led her to the plane, motioning for her to go ahead of him on the narrow stairs. Once inside, she found Kristina had already spread out a work area at a seat with a table. She was talking into her Bluetooth and typing something on her laptop.

Alexander had disappeared.

She turned to Sam who was behind her. “Where did the boss man go?”

Sam stepped forward, his hand resting on her back to move her forward and step around her. “Into his cave.”

“His… cave?” she asked.

“He has a private compartment in the back,” Sam said.

“It’s more like his cage,” Kristina added from her seat. “We lock him in there and don’t let him out until we land. It’s for our own sanity, trust me.”

Rory laughed. Though she was with her colleagues, being out of the office seemed to relax their interactions. It was a relief to know she would be around people who were friendly while on a business trip.

“I can still hear you,” said Alexander’s voice from the overhead speaker.

Kristina giggled. “Well, now that we’re all here, we can get this show on the road. Let me just go tell the pilot.”

Rory watched as Kristina stood from her seat and walked toward the front of the plane. She glanced around, trying to decide where to sit. Sam took care of that for her and pointed to the seat across the aisle from him. His long legs were already stretched out in the empty space in front of him as he reclined his head back on his own plush leather seat.

She buckled herself in and let out a long sigh, closing her eyes and preparing for the adventure ahead of her. Once more, she reminded herself she had wanted this. She had wanted to go, see, and do. Now here she was with the opportunity and it was overwhelming.

At least she had friends with her along the way.

“If you aren’t on a flight with Alexander, you typically have time to get to the hotel and get everything set up and checked in before he arrives. In cases where you are traveling with him, you can call about an hour ahead and have them prepare everything,” Kristina said.

Rory nodded, scribbling notes on her notepad. “So they have all the keys ready and everything?”

“Yes,” Kristina said. “The manager or concierge at each of the locations will have Alexander’s room ready. While he’s settling in, you can do any other paperwork that’s needed at the front desk. If it’s needed.”

“Okay,” Rory said. “That seems simple enough.”

Kristina nodded. “It is, because we usually stick to the same hotels in the destinations we go to, so they have all our information. I gave you the preferred list, right?”

“Yep,” Rory said. “But we’re not staying at a hotel on the list this trip.”

“Alexander’s father chose this time,” Kristina said. “Since the entire family will be in town, he wanted everyone at the same place. And since he’s footing the bill, it’s the Waldorf Astoria. Stellan likes the history. Of course, Alexander prefers the Plaza… so the history doesn’t really matter because they both have a rich history. I guess we could just say that Stellan is stubborn.”

“He’s stuck in the past and doesn’t like change,” said Sam from his seat in front of them. With a flourish, he tossed a magazine he’d been flipping through on Rory’s previously occupied seat and moved to a chair at the tiny four-seat table with them. He fiddled with the touch screen on the cabin controls and hit a mute button that belonged to the speaker system. “Word of advice time from Sam: Alexander has always been looking to the future. Our father, always to the past. This is where they butt heads, and especially where Gurra comes in, because he does what he thinks Dad wants.”

“I’ve already warned her about it,” Kristina said. “But that’s a good way of describing it.”

“I know,” Sam said. “I’ve lived with it for twenty-nine years. You learn eventually.”

“And where do you fit in?” Rory asked.

Sam grinned. “I don’t fit in anywhere. I’m an artist who lives by his brush.”

“And an extremely healthy trust fund,” Kristina added blandly.

“So you’re just a rich hippie,” Rory said. “Nice.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I like you, toots. I have a feeling this is the start of a very long and interesting partnership.”

“I hope so,” Rory said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Anyway,” Kristina started, bringing the attention back to her. “We’re at the Waldorf this time around and Marissa, Stellan’s assistant, will have taken care of all the check-ins already for us. She’ll meet us down in the lobby with everything we need.”

“Awesome,” Rory said.

Kristina sighed. “As far as the daily routines while on these business trips, you are expected to accompany him to each of his appointments unless he tells you otherwise. You don’t have to do anything special. You are to network and follow behind him, while still being two steps ahead of any conceivable thing he might need of you.”

“Geez, Kristina,” Sam laughed, “you make it sound like some form of impossible dance.”

“It is,” Kristina said. “I dare you to live a day in the life of your brother’s personal assistant. Then we’ll talk.”

“I’ll leave it to the more capable,” Sam said.

Kristina rolled her eyes. “Your main task is to keep him on schedule by any means necessary. Remind him about fifteen minutes before he needs to leave to make his next scheduled appointment if he has any. It gives him time to wrap up conversations if he’s in a meeting. I try to tell him verbally, but when that’s not possible, I catch his eyes and pull on my earlobe to be as inconspicuous as possible. He’ll nod at you to verify that he saw it.”

Rory scribbled and looked up at Kristina. “And getting to these places in an unfamiliar location?”

“The driver will know where he’s going ahead of time,” Kristina said. “We send a semi-finalized schedule to the car company before we even get on the plane. I took care of it this time since I didn’t have a chance to go over it with you. However, when you get into the car, just give the driver a gentle reminder. Sometimes they forget or the schedule has changed.”

The intercom dinged overhead, followed by the pilot coming over the speaker. “We’re starting our descent into La Guardia now. We’ll be on the ground in about a half hour.”

“That was quick,” Rory said.

“Time flies,” Sam said, buckling the seat belt in his seat.

“Always the jester,” Kristina scoffed and started gathering her things and stuffing them into her briefcase, computer bag and purse on the seat beside her. She looked across at Rory again. “If you have any questions, just ask. Don’t assume something. Anybody will be willing to help you out. Just don’t ask Stellan or Gurra, and you’ll do great.”

Rory nodded her head. “I got this, Kristina.”

She hoped it was the truth.

Alexander stepped into the marble-encrusted entrance at the Waldorf, steeling himself to the madness ahead of him. He would need all the perseverance he could muster for the next week. After that, things would calm down. They had to.

His father’s attractive black-haired assistant met him with a smile. “You’re ahead of schedule for once.”

“Flight was easy,” he said, shrugging. Marissa was a pleasant woman, his age, and had an exotic beauty that had once captivated him. He had hit on her when she’d first started working for his father. Actually, he’d done it a few times, only to be rebuffed every single time.

Only now did he realize that it had been a fleeting interest born of an eager twenty-two year old. They had little in common and he didn’t like her much personally. Though she was a good assistant, she was also incredibly controlling of his father to the point that he questioned his father’s decisions.

“Your father asked that you stay in the suite with him and your brothers,” Marissa said.

Alexander pursed his lips, a sour taste in his mouth. That was the absolute last place he wanted to be for a week. God help him if his father attempted a spate of father-son bonding, because it just wasn’t going to happen. Not after thirty-five years of constantly butting heads with each other.

“He’s in the Presidential Suite, and your mother is in the Royal Suite with Eija,” she explained.

“Still not talking?” he asked.

“No,” Marissa shook her head. Alexander thought it odd that she did not elaborate as she normally did on the subject, but brushed it away.

“Alright then,” he said. Sam’s loud voice echoed off the marble lobby as he came up behind him, still putting on a show for Rory. He appreciated the fact that his brother was so friendly, but Alexander did not like the concerted interest he had in his new assistant. It would distract Rory from learning and doing her job.

At least that’s what he told himself. He might actually start believing it if he kept saying it. He felt a protectiveness of his new assistant he did not quite understand and definitely didn’t want to focus on at the moment.

“Is that your new assistant?” Marissa asked.

Alexander turned as the rest of his party joined his side. Rory was there, smiling. “Yes, Rory, this is Marissa, my dad’s assistant.”

“Hi, Marissa,” Rory said, offering her hand.

Marissa reluctantly took her hand and shook it limply. Alexander frowned at the interaction. It had been suggested on more than one occasion that he should hire Marissa on as his own assistant so she didn’t lose her job with his father’s retirement. Clearly she was still unhappy about his emphatic denial of her pursuit of the job beneath him. And honestly, if she was going to be childish about it, he was glad he had not given the idea more credence.

“Well, shall we get up to your rooms?” she asked, motioning for them to follow.

Sam smiled. “I’m just going to hang out down here for a bit.”

“Why?” Alexander asked.

Sam’s eyes twinkled. “Give you time to settle in with Dad. You know, let the dust settle.”

“I hate you,” Alexander said and shook his head. He turned and fell in stride beside Marissa as they made their way to the elevator bay. He was somewhat sad to see Rory and Kristina step off the elevator well before he was due to, but sighed and waited for the doors to peel back on the twenty-first floor.

Marissa showed him to the door with a small placard that read “Presidential Suite” and opened the door with her keycard before handing him one of his own.

“I’m going back down to my room,” she said. “I’m right by Rory and Kristina if you need me for anything.”

“Thanks,” he said and stepped into the foyer. He found his father and Gurra pacing around the long dining room table, each on their cell phones, one gibbering in Swedish, the other in English. Each had to do with business, though he couldn’t pick out what exactly they were discussing.

They both looked up, however, as he entered and dropped his computer bag on a chair in the garishly decorated room. Their calls ended quickly and the normally stilted greetings proceeded as was tradition.

“Alexander,” Gurra said, offering his hand.

“Gurra,” he replied.

Then his father tried to hug him, and it turned into the inevitable uncomfortable half hug. “You look good, Alexander.”

“Thanks,” Alexander said. Like they hadn’t just seen each other a few weeks ago. Did his father expect him to look worse for the wear? Maybe he had planned on it with all the shit he’d been putting him through on this transfer. “What’s going on?”

“Oh,” Gurra said, “I was dealing with a bank hold on something.”

Their father nodded. “And I was talking with my attorneys.”

“You mean our attorneys?” Alexander said.

“No, son, I mean, my attorneys,” Stellan replied. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

Alexander met his father’s cold blue gaze and knew better than that. There was something his father wasn’t telling him. Something that clearly pained him.

Despite the fucked up childhood he’d had, he still loved the man. He had given him life, after all, and he didn’t want to see anything bad happen to him. Mostly because he didn’t want to be responsible for the fallout and what it could do to the company, but also because it would affect those of his family he really cared for.

“You should go see your mother,” Stellan said.

“I will, just let me relax after the flight a bit,” Alexander said, grabbing his things again and heading further into the large suite of rooms. He found his younger brother in the furthest bedroom down the hall lying out on the floor, playing video games.

“Hey, Alexander!” Valter jumped up and tossed the controller down, greeting him with a real hug. He promptly went back to his video games without saying anything else.

Alexander chose one empty room on the other side of the hall. Well, at least everything was normal. Still, though, he couldn’t help but shake the feeling that something shitty was about to happen and he wasn’t going to like it one bit. His father’s mysteriousness about his lawyers was another thing entirely.

When he heard Sam being welcomed back to the fold, Alexander took the opportunity to slip out into the main hall unnoticed. His father’s constant harping on Sam not having a “real job” would give him time to see his mother and sister and get back before he would be missed.

Alexander walked to the other suite and knocked on the door. As soon as the door opened, a body flew out at him. “Alexander!” the body squealed.

“Hi, Eija,” he said, hugging her close and kissing her forehead.

“I missed you so much,” Eija said.

He leaned back and looked down at her. “You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

“Thanks,” she said, but brushed it off. People told her the same thing all the time so it had lost its potency. “Why didn’t you come see me at school when you were in Sweden last month?”

“I didn’t have time, love,” he said.

She stepped back from him and pouted. “I’m your only sister, you know. You should see me as much as possible.”

“I know,” he chuckled. “Stop pouting, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“I will not.” Eija flipped her hair over her shoulder and stepped back into the suite, allowing him to follow her inside. He followed her into a room decorated in powder blue upholstery. His mother sat on a couch, reading a book through tiny glasses set low on her nose.

“Did you see your father?” She didn’t look up from her book.

“Yes,” Alexander said.

She set her book down on the couch beside her and stood. She kissed his cheek and stepped back, holding his face between her hands and searching his face. After a moment she smiled. “I’m glad you’re here at least.”

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Well, more than it usually is?”

“Everything’s just fine,” his mother said, stepping back and shaking her head. “You worry too much.”

Alexander frowned. “It’s my charm. And I really think I should be told what’s going on, as there apparently is something wrong. Don’t you think I deserve to know seeing as I am now the head of this firm?”

“Of the firm, not the family,” she said.

“This family is a firm.”

“Where’s your new assistant?” Eija changed the subject. It had always been her technique to avoid arguments ever since he could remember.

“She’s getting settled into her room,” Alexander said. “She’ll be around later. Now, would—.”

His words died on his lips, though, when there was another knock on the door and Eija admitted Sam to the room.

“Mom!” Sam glided across the room and picked their mother up, spinning her around and hugging her tightly to him. They’d always had a special bond Alexander never fully understood. He did know that he wouldn’t be able to grill his mother for answers now that Sam was there to talk her ear off about some piece of art he had done or acquired.

Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I’ll see you all later. I need to go get ready for a meeting at four.”

Eija followed him out to the hall and stood with one foot in the door so she could get back inside when she was finished. “I think they’re getting ready for another divorce.”

“Huh?” Alexander said.

“Mom and Dad,” she said. “Just the way they’ve been acting.”

He ran his hand absently through his hair and let out a short breath. “Like I need this nightmare on top of Dad’s retirement.”

Eija shrugged. “Well, you know, third time’s a charm, right?”

“There should have never been a second or third.”

“But then you wouldn’t have Valter or me.”

Alexander smiled and shook his head. “No, no I wouldn’t. Now, can I go back to my room and lock everyone away?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

Alexander nodded his head and turned back down the hall to go to his suite. He glanced at his watch, noticing it wasn’t more than an hour since they had landed in New York and already trouble was brewing.

It didn’t bode well for the rest of the week.

Chapter 6

Rory let herself into her hotel room that evening, glad the day was over with and she could relax until brunch with the Skarsgård clan the next morning. Kristina and Sam had both tried to warn her about Stellan, but she just couldn’t see what the problem was. He had been everything but rude or short with her. Sure, he and Gurra both acted more overbearing than the others in the family, but still not as horrible as had been described. But she also had to remind herself that she hardly knew them and they were probably putting on their public personas for her. She’d learn over time.

She hadn’t had any time to really speak with the others as they were whisked off to a meeting at a job site at four and hadn’t returned until just a few minutes ago. Pulling her phone from her purse, she noticed the two missed calls—one from her mother, the other from her sister—and that it was 8:32. No wonder her stomach was rumbling for food.

After calling down for room service, she changed into yoga pants and an old t-shirt before collapsing onto the extremely comfortable bed. Her eyes were heavy and she could fall asleep if she really wanted, but the gnawing hunger in her belly was just enough to keep her awake.

While she waited for her food to arrive, she picked up her phone and dialed her parents’ home number. Much like the last time she had called, there was a lot of activity on the other end, but her older brother, Charlie, answered instead.

“Hello girlie,” he said.

“Hey!” she said. “Long time no talk.”

“You know, it’s a two way street, you could have called me,” he said. “How are you?”

“Exhausted,” she replied. “I started my new job on Monday.”

“You found a job?” he asked.

Rory chuckled. “Yeah. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to call yet.”

She wouldn’t tell him that she had called, but had resisted telling anyone about it because of what was going on at that time.

“Well, where are you working?” he asked. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I’m working for a real estate developer,” she said. “I’m the head honchos’ personal assistant.”

“What? Really? I’m proud of you, Rory Jean,” he said. “Why haven’t you told Mom and Dad?”

“I didn’t want to compete with Walker’s audience when I called last week,” she replied. “I figured mine could wait.”

He sighed heavily. “Walker just asked her today. That’s all the commotion you hear.”

Rory closed her eyes and nodded her head, though she knew he couldn’t see her. The day Walker had asked her to marry him, an impromptu engagement party had sprung up out of nowhere. Southerner’s were famous for parties like that.

“So it’s done, huh?” Rory asked.

“Yes, it is,” he replied. “And thank god for it. Now I don’t have to listen to Mama talk about it. She was about to explode keeping it from Whit.”

“I have no doubt,” Rory said. “Mom and Whit both called me.”

“Charlie, who’s that?” came the screech from the other side.

“Rory,” he answered. “Do you want to talk to Whit?”

“Not really,” she said.

“She’s giving me the look that says ‘too bad’,” he said.

Rory groaned. “I hate you.”

“Give me the damn phone, Charlie,” said the voice on the other side, close to the receiver. There was a scuffle on the other side and then a sweet, “Oh my goodness, Aurora Jean! I wish you were here! You’ll never believe it! Walker proposed!”

“That’s great,” Rory said. Did she have no compassion or did she honestly forget that this was a touchy subject?

She whined. “You don’t sound excited.”

“I’m thrilled.”

“We were at the Auburn/Georgia game,” she explained. “He got down on one knee in front of everyone in the middle of the field.”

Rory wanted to vomit. “How sweet.”

“I know!”

“Oh, and Rory, you’re going to be my maid of honor,” she said. “We’re going to get married over Thanksgiving.”

It would have been nice to be asked, but even Rory knew that she would have to accept despite her misgivings. Her mother and father would make sure of it. Because that’s what sisters did.

“Isn’t that awfully soon?” Rory asked.

“It is,” Whitney said. “But Walker and I both agree we want to get married quickly and start trying for a family as soon as possible.”

Unlike you, who made Walker wait. She didn’t have to say it, but Rory heard the underlying tone in Whitney’s voice.

“I’ll see what I can do, Whitney,” Rory said. “I just started a new job and I don’t know what my schedule is going to be like. I’m not going to be able to plan a bridal shower or bachelorette party or anything.”

“I said maid of honor,” she said. “My friend Faith got married a couple months ago, remember? She’s going to be my matron of honor. She’ll take care of it. Besides, we both know who will throw the funner party.”

“That’s not a word, Whitney,” Rory corrected.

God, she was an airhead.

“Whatever! Anyway, what size are you these days? Twenty?” she asked, her tone stinging.

Rory pursed her lips together as tightly as possible and bit her tongue, doing everything she could think of to refrain from yelling at her. “No, Whitney, I’m a ten, just like I have been my entire adult life.”

“Oh, well,” Whitney said, “I’ll have to find a dress and have it sent to you to make sure it fits.”

“Great,” Rory replied.

There was a knock at the door, followed by a soft, “Room service.”

“Okay, I have to go,” Rory said. “My room service is here.”

“Where are you?”

“New York,” Rory said. “On a business trip. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Rory hung up the phone and slammed it down on the bed. It didn’t make her feel any better. She needed to hit something harder with something that she didn’t mind wrecking, unlike her phone.

But first, dinner.

Then she would remedy the urge to kill.

Alexander yawned into his hand as he trudged out of the elevator and onto the nineteenth floor of the hotel, in search of the fitness center. It had been a long, tiring day full of meetings and family togethernees he could have done without. Yet, as he had lain in bed, he couldn’t find slumber. His mind was going every which direction and he couldn’t stop it. He hoped running a few miles on a treadmill might calm him down just enough to do the trick.

To his right was the entrance to the spa, now closed for the night. On his left, a glass-walled lobby. Exercise machines were set up in neat rows behind the front desk where a bored attendant sat twirling her hair, transfixed with the computer screen in front of her.

She looked up as he stepped inside the room and smiled. “Hello, sir, may I help you?”

“Yes, I just wanted to get in and run some on a treadmill,” he replied.

“What room are you in?” she asked.

He smiled. “I’m in the Presidential Suite. Skarsgård party.”

She grinned and pointed to the left. “That is the men’s locker room. May I get you any complimentary work out clothing, sir?”

“No, I’ll wear what I have on.” He motioned to his t-shirt and shorts.

“Very well,” she said. “Towels are in the locker room as well as a refrigerator with water bottles for your use.”

“Thanks.” He nodded his head and walked back toward the locker room for a towel and water bottle.

He was grateful that the gym was a ghost town this late at night—and why wouldn’t it be at one in the morning?—except for sounds coming from a room in the back. As he mounted a treadmill and began choosing his settings, a loud, angry yell came from the back room followed by what he could only describe as a repetitious popping-like sound.

His father had once told him curiosity killed the cat, but he couldn’t resist seeing who or what had caused the noise. What he did find didn’t kill him, but it certainly surprised him. In the tiny room with a large punching bag was Rory, going through a combination of punches, kicks and feinting movements. After watching her hands and legs for a few seconds, he changed his opinion on the killing part. She might actually be able to cause him real damage if she wanted.

Another man stepped up beside him. Alexander noted that his shirt had “trainer” embroidered on his left breast. “She’s impressive. We usually get creampuffs in here who think they know a thing or two about kickboxing. She seemed like a creampuff when she walked in, but turns out she does know what she’s doing.”

“How long has she been in here?” Alexander asked. His eyes slid down her body. She wore a loose gray top that was drenched in perspiration. Clearly she’d been at it long enough for a good work out.

He also remarked, belatedly, that he quite liked the tight black pants she was wearing.

Alexander mentally smacked himself and forced his eyes back up to her face, but not before stopping on the v neck of the shirt plastered to her ample breasts. He hadn’t realized just how amazing her body was until now, and he didn’t understand why she covered it up the way she did in baggy business clothes.

“She’s been wailing on that bag for a half hour,” said the man. “Hasn’t slowed down at all.”

He continued to watch, transfixed. But as he paid more attention to her face and not her body, Alexander noticed that her eyes were red and puffy as though she’d been crying. That was not how he had left her after returning to the hotel earlier in the evening. Something was wrong. He hoped he wasn’t that something wrong, because he had thought she was fitting in well enough. Even his family hadn’t been too hard on her earlier.

“May I go in?” Alexander asked.

“It’s not a closed room,” said the man with a smile. “But we have cameras everywhere, so don’t try anything the lady doesn’t like.”

Alexander shot the man a warning glare. Did he give off the vibe that he was some creep who would do something like that to a woman? “Even if I was that kind of person, I think I’d be in a world of hurt.”

“True enough,” the trainer said and bowed away.

Alexander opened the door and stepped inside. She spun around, panting for breath. The forgotten punching bag now behind her swung out, hit her back and pushed her forward. He lunged for her, in an effort to slow or minimize the impact she might make with the floor. She fell against him, her face landing against his chest while her gloved hands clenched his hips for dear life. He stood still, appraising the situation and just how he had gotten into it. Then he felt her shaking against him.

In laughter.

Of all the reactions he had expected, he hadn’t planned for laughter. But he was relieved it was laughter and not whatever had been troubling her. He could handle laughter. Honestly, he didn’t know why he thought he’d be able to make anything better if she had been crying.

She pushed against him, using his hips as counterbalance, and stood upright. As she did this, he also smelled alcohol.

“Are you drunk?” he asked. It would explain the laughter.

“No,” she said. “I was slightly buzzed before I started, though. It mostly wore off.”

When Rory had walked into his office a week and a half ago, he had met a shy, polite little Southern girl who masked her accent as much as possible. The woman in front of him now was an extroverted, tipsy tomboy who spoke with a thick Southern drawl he found difficult to understand.

“Oh, man, tonight just can’t get any worse.” She walked to the other side of the room and slid down onto the floor, tearing off her small boxing gloves and tossing them aside.

“Care to tell me about it?” he asked, not wanting to be invasive but truly wanting to get to the bottom of her distress. He wanted to help her, if he could.

Rory glanced up at him as she toweled the sweat from her face, neck and arms. She took a long drink from her water bottle and shook her head. “It’s not worth it.”

He sat beside her on the floor, looking at her in the mirrored wall across from them. “Try me.”

She turned to him. Her lips quirked up in a stiff smile. “You really wanna know?”

“Yes, I do,” he said. Did he?

Rory sighed and looked down at her outstretched legs, picking at the fabric of her pants. “Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

“I won’t.”

“Fine, then,” she replied and took in a deep breath before starting. “My sister’s getting married.”

Alexander frowned. That was a bad thing? Weren’t marriage announcements generally seen as happy occasions? Yet, he knew that wasn’t always the case. After all, his own mother and father had been married three times. The first time, he wasn’t alive. The other two had not been happy. But then, his family was an oddity.

“Uh…” he started, not knowing what to say.

“To my ex-fiancé,” she added.

“Wow.”

“There’s a lot of other stuff in there, too,” Rory said. “But that’s the main part.”

Alexander met her eyes. “Did he cheat on you?”

“He didn’t have to,” Rory replied. “Our relationship was a wreck even before we broke up. By rights, I shouldn’t even be angry or sad about this, but I am. They started dating right after we broke up.”

“That’s still a shitty thing to do,” Alexander said. “I don’t know about the guy, but your sister… isn’t there like some kind of female equivalent of 'bros before hos’?”

Rory huffed and shook her head. “You don’t know my sister. My sister and I have never gotten along. She’s done shit like this all her life, rubs it in my face and then goes on her merry way. Anytime I ever had a big achievement, she was always right there with something grander, or taking the attention from me. Honor roll, cheerleading captain, and the perfect little Southern belle. God, I do sound like a spiteful little bitch. Maybe she was right.”

“You’re not spiteful,” he said.

“I’m glad I have your vote of confidence,” Rory said with a small laugh. “You know, it’s my fault because I’ve always let her walk all over me. I’ve let her take what she wanted and just stepped back to avoid the altercation.”

“Maybe that’s all you could do,” Alexander replied. “Sometimes you have to choose your battles… trust me, I know something about family troubles. Not quite like yours, but still bad.”

Rory met his eyes. “Gurra?”

“He’s one problem of many,” Alexander said. “We put the 'fun’ in dysfunctional. My mom and dad have been legally married three times, and divorced two. Eija says we’re working on number three right now. Meanwhile, Sam is the black sheep, and Valter is a lost child.”

“That explains the black clothes and Death Metal thing,” Rory replied.

He laughed. “He sees a therapist for that.”

Rory shrugged. “Hey, I acted out, too. It’s normal. I’m sure you did.”

“Yeah, I wanted to be a rock musician in high school,” he said. “Needless to say, that didn’t go over very well when I told my father.”

“I’m sure it didn’t.” Rory drank what was left in her water bottle and set it beside her. She then yawned into her hand. “I don’t have problems with anyone in my family but my sister. She’s a year and a few months older and from day one has had it out for me. It was terrible in middle school and high school. I was a nerd and tomboy, and she was the head bitch in charge. Everyone adored her and cowed to her whims. You know how we’re supposed to be all anti-bully in school now? Well, my sister was the poster child for bullies everywhere. There were a few girls who were so maligned by her group of friends that they changed schools. I couldn’t do that because I was related to her. I still had to see her every night at the dinner table.”

Alexander listened to Rory explain her sister, and though she might sound ungrateful to some, he couldn’t see it that way. Not with his own family and a similar sibling rivalry issue between himself and Gurra. Sure, it wasn’t the same, but pretty damn close.

“Why did everyone love her if she was like that?” he asked.

“She’s gorgeous. It’s funny how kids flock to pretty people because they think they’re better. Our school also had a lot of military kids,” Rory said. “My dad was a three star general and commander of the base. Wives and children of officers like that tend to 'wear the rank’, too.”

“You mean they think they have the privilege of power without having to work for it?” Alexander said. “Hmm… sounds familiar.”

Rory smiled. “Yes, but you worked for it. And I don’t think you’re a bully.”

“Gurra doesn’t think I’ve worked hard enough to deserve it,” Alexander said.

“I’m sure you do deserve it,” Rory said.

He barely knew this woman, and yet her words of confidence made him feel better. Made him breathe a sigh of relief. It was good to have someone beside him who was willing to give him that boost when he needed it most.

“My sister’s regime was based on fear,” Rory said. “And I played into it. You know when I told you in the interview I wanted to explore the world and that’s why I left Georgia? That was only a part of the reason. One part was my ex, the other my sister. I needed to be on my own.”

“I understand that completely,” Alexander said. “And I’m glad you did. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have found the perfect candidate for my assistant.”

Her pale skin turned a violent shade of red and she turned her head from him. “Aw, thanks.”

Without thinking, he reached out, his fingers on her chin to make her turn her head toward him. It was a personal touch that he knew he shouldn’t have allowed himself, but he had been unable to control it. He wanted to see her eyes and she needed to regain some of the confidence she had allowed her sister to squelch all these years.

“Don’t be embarrassed by any praise you receive,” he said, softly. He slipped his hand across her jaw and pushed a piece of auburn hair behind her ear. She was beautiful, even with no makeup and disheveled from a hard work out. “You deserve it.”

“It’s just difficult to hear sometimes,” she replied.

He nodded. “I know.”

Silence fell between them. He needed to remove his hand from where it rested against her cheek. He needed to back away from her. To gain perspective. But he didn’t. His eyes drifted from hers and landed on her full, soft-looking lips, and like a ton of bricks, he was hit with the intense urge to kiss her.

Rory placed a hand over his and gave him a shaky smile before removing it from her face. She squeezed his hand and let go, clearing her throat. “I need to go up to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, Alexander.”

She stood and collected her things. He watched her walk out of the room, again inordinately interested in her rear and legs. He was barking up the wrong tree, but it wasn’t like he even meant to do it. It just happened.

The strange thing was he couldn’t think of a reason not to bark up the tree at the moment, though he knew there were plenty.

#alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard fanfiction #alexander skarsgard fanfic #alexander skarsgard fan fic #alexander skarsgard fan fiction #building happiness

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Fic: Butterfly Wings - Chapter 38

Story summary A fashion blog started at University launched Blaine Anderson’s fortune and fame. As Vogue’s new editor-in-chief, he is struggling to find an original angle for an upcoming issue. Kurt Hummel has recently arrived in New York City after finishing high school, and is having no luck building a musical theater career, so he decides to explore another passion of his: fashion. He applies for an internship at Vogue, and Isabelle sees in him the perfect fresh face to liven up the magazine, and convinces him to try out as a model. Kurt meets Blaine, and in spite of their 10-year age difference, sparks fly. Can they overcome misunderstandings and sabotage to find their happily-ever-after? Klaine model AU. Rating for this chapter: General (overall story is mature) Word count for this chapter: 5,750 Can also be read on A03 / FF Masterpost is here. You’re in for a real treat with the artwork contained in this chapter. They were created by Cassie at @cc-graphics. She has been so unbelievably supportive for a newbie author like myself. The overall story artwork was produced early in my writing and some days, it kept me going. Please go here to give her all the love she deserves for the photos.

Thank you to the amazing @lilyvandersteen for the beta work and support. ***** Author’s note: Pay attention to the day things are happening. The chapter takes pace over a 10-day period. “To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.” – Criss Jami May - Sunday “I think we should do the photo shoot on the set Tuesday. On Wednesday, we’ll do the outdoor shoot and then we’ll head to Blaine’s place,” Paul, the lead photographer, suggests after listening to Blaine’s plans for the revised June issue. “Can someone get the permit to shoot in Central Park? Let’s pray it doesn’t rain.” “I’ll get someone to sort that out,” Tina replies, furiously typing into her computer. “Will that give you enough time to get the outfits together, Liam?” Blaine asks. “You’ve got a fantastic wardrobe, Blaine. I’m thinking that we’ll use your clothes so they don’t need to be altered. Can I come over this evening to pick out some outfits? That will leave Monday for doing any necessary cleaning and selecting the accessories.”

At Blaine’s nod, Liam continues. “The main thing that worries me is the cover. I’m not sure I can pull it off. I’m thinking we should use a professional theater costume designer, but I doubt we can get someone to create what you’re thinking of before Tuesday.” Blaine leans back in his chair and takes off his glasses before rubbing his eyes. This was always going to be the difficult part. “I’ve got an idea,” Paul says. “Why don’t we Photoshop it? I’m good friends with Jeff Huang, who’s the best in the field for digital art, and he’s based right here in New York City.” “Do you think he’ll agree to do it?” Blaine asks hopefully. “Think of the exposure he’ll get with his digital art on the cover of Vogue. Jeff will be all over it. Let me call him now.” When Paul has left the room, Blaine turns to Unique. “I’m counting on you living up to your name in the make-up area.” Unique gulps and slowly nods. “I’ve already texted Lady Divine, who’s promised to help me. But your hair, Blaine…” “What’s wrong with it?” “I’m thinking that you need an edgier style.” “Nope, I’m not getting rid of the curls. Not doing it. I spent my teenage years gelling my hair, and now that I’ve figured out a way to control them, I’m keeping the curls.” Unique huffs and stands up, placing a hand on her hip. “Honey, you need to trust Unique. I’m not suggesting for one single moment that you get rid of those curls. I’m thinking about a cut that will show them off even more. When Mark Townsend helped us out on the Hamilton-inspired photo shoot, he had some really great ideas about your hair.” “Okay, Unique. I guess it’s go big or go home. Can you set up an appointment for tomorrow?” “Already done. Townsend is expecting you at 4 p.m.” Now that all aspects of the photo shoot have been discussed, the conversation turns to the main article. “I want to make one thing very clear about the main article. I must have full editorial control. There are specific things I want included and other things I will not discuss. That is non-negotiable.” “Do you want to write the article yourself?” Isabelle politely asks. “No. I won’t have the time and it would get far too sappy. I’m looking for a top-notch journalist to write it to my specifications.” Isabelle sits up straight before she replies. “Santino Cruz is a new staff writer for the website. He’s a wonderful reporter, and his articles are thoughtful and compassionate. I’m expecting him to go places one day, but for now, he writes articles about celebrities and travel pieces.” “Do you think Santino is up for the job?” “Yes, I do. I can be there during the interview, if you like, and polish up the article before your final editing.” “I trust your judgement, Isabelle. I’ll email you the list of things I wish to be included. Can you and Santino start the interview tomorrow morning? It looks like I’m going to be very busy with the photo shoots after that.” “Consider it done. We’ll also have to run the article by your PR agency.” Tina and the head of distribution talk about the logistics of getting the revised cover and article to the printers in time. The finance director approves the additional costs for the overtime required to print and distribute the issue over the weekend. The website content has been assigned over to Isabelle’s number two – she will be far too busy with the article and coordinating events to give the website the attention it deserves. At the end of the meeting, Blaine smiles for the first time, realizing that this is really going to happen. He returns to his office to make an important phone call. It’s the last piece of the puzzle that needs to be in place to pull off Operation Woo Kurt. ***** “Blaine Anderson. How nice to hear from you! I haven’t seen you since you came on the show after becoming Vogue’s editor-in-chief.” “Has it really been that long, Ellen?” “Yes, it has been that long. So when are you going to grace my show with your presence again?” “I’m glad you asked that. How far ahead do you tape your show?” “One day.” “So if I wanted to be on the show on a Tuesday, it would be taped on the Monday?” “Yes, that’s right. Why do you ask?” Blaine crosses his fingers because the timing would work if Ellen agrees. “I have a special favor to ask you, Ellen. I’d like to be on the show airing on June 1st. Here’s what’s happening…” Blaine gives a quick spiel about Operation Woo Kurt, June’s Vogue issue, and how The Ellen Show fits into his plans. When he’s finished pitching his story, Blaine takes deep breaths, nervously waiting for Ellen’s reaction. “Are you serious, Blaine? I didn’t think you had it in you to be so bold.” Blaine chuckles, “Yeah, I didn’t think so either. So what do you say, can I be on your show?” “Absolutely! This appearance will top everyone we’ve had this year. The only thing that would make it better is if Kurt were in the audience.” “Sorry, but no can do. Kurt is currently in the Mid-West staying with his dad. I need this to be a complete surprise.” “Ugh, I understand. I’ll have the program director contact your office tomorrow about when you’re needed on set. Let’s meet up for lunch that day so you can tell me all about it and we can figure out a plan for the appearance.” ***** Tuesday Blaine looks at himself in the mirror in the make-up area, and cannot believe that it’s really him. He’s never worn so much make-up in his life. Blaine has always been confident about his looks, knowing that others find him attractive, but this is the first time he thinks of himself as beautiful. “Don’t touch your face!” Lady Divine cries out. “You’re a work of art and I can’t have you messing it up.” “How do you like it?” Unique asks in a shaky voice. “I love it, but could I have some eyeliner? Err… Kurt likes it on me.” “Anything for that boy,” Lady Divine smirks as she carefully applies the liquid liner to his eyelids. Unique squeezes a very small dollop of hair product into her palm and carefully works it through his hair. Blaine loves his new hairstyle and only hopes that Kurt does as well. As he waits for the set to be ready, Blaine relaxes for the first time since Sunday morning. There had been clothes to select, the set stylists had worked there magic in his house, and of course there had been the interview itself. Blaine had been impressed by Santino Cruz. It took half an hour to get the staff writer to relax in his presence, but once Blaine and Santino realized that they both loved Broadway, they forged a bond. Santino stayed on script for the main interview, while Isabelle interjected with a few more detailed questions. At the end, Santino had asked additional questions about the Monarch Foundation and its long-term plans. Blaine could see where he was going with this, so he gave a lot of background information and shared his vision. Santino then suggested that the article should include the Monarch House and offered to find a Westerville photographer to take some photos. Isabelle was right – Santino Cruz will be going places someday. Liam comes over and gives Blaine a quick look-over. No special clothing is needed for this part of the photo shoot. “I almost forgot. Let me take that wristband off before you go on set,” Liam says, pulling Blaine’s arm towards him. Blaine angrily pushes the hand away, which startles Liam. “Don’t touch it! I’m never going to take off this wristband! It means everything to me. It stays on during the photo shoot.” “Okay. Sorry, Blaine. I didn’t know that it was so special to you,” Liam meekly replies. “Sorry that I raised my voice, but it is special.” “We’re ready when you are,” Paul shouts. Blaine nervously gets up and adjusts the tiny shorts. He feels self-conscious without a shirt to cover his chest. Unique had insisted that he have an upper body wax yesterday, and his chest feels weird. He can feel Unique rub his shoulder. “You’ll do fine. Just remember that you’re the greatest diva of them all.” Blaine laughs at Unique’s comment and smiles back. “That’s because I’ve got you as a sidekick, my dear.” Blaine walks onto the set and stands where the marking is on the floor. The lights are blinding and he hopes he doesn’t start to sweat. “Anything you want to listen to?” Paul asks. “I’ve already got it set up,” Steve, the lighting technician, replies, and he turns on the audio system. What a diff'rence a day made Twenty-four little hours Brought the sun and the flowers Where there used to be rain My yesterday was blue, dear Today I'm part of you, dear As Blaine moves into the positions that Paul calls out, he thinks back to the 24 hours that he had spent with Kurt in LA. It was the most incredible experience of his life. Blaine’s arms flow in time to the music, imagining being held in Kurt’s arms. He rolls his head, remembering feeling Kurt inside his body, filling him with ecstasy and love. “That’s a wrap. God, Blaine, you should be a model. You can really make your body flow like liquid. And do you know how hard it is to make models look dreamy-eyed like that?” Paul remarks. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick to my job behind my desk after this week. This is too much hard work,” Blaine chuckles. ***** Friday Blaine glances up from his computer screen and looks at Isabelle and at Santino, who is nervously twisting his hands in his lap. “It’s perfect. We’ll run with this article.” Blaine can see the relief wash over both of their faces. “Santino, this is excellent work. I especially like what you wrote about the Monarch Foundation. Maybe I can rope you into writing some of the foundation’s promotional materials… The photos you picked out are perfect. Now go take the rest of the day off. You deserve it.” Santino thanks Blaine before leaving. When Isabelle gets up, Blaine pleads with her to stay. “Can you stay with me until the cover photo is delivered? I’m really nervous to see what it looks like.” “Sure, I’ll stay. But honestly, Blaine, you have nothing to worry about. The photos in the main spread are fantastic.” “But the cover is so out there! By the way, thanks for suggesting Santino for writing the article. You’re right. He’s very talented. I wonder if there’s a position available to give him a promotion?” “I’ll look into it and make it happen.” Their conversation is interrupted by a knock on the door. Blaine eagerly waves Paul and Jeff Huang into his office. Paul hands over the printout of the June issue’s cover, and Blaine gasps when he sees it. “I…I don’t know what to say. This surpasses anything I ever imagined it would be. It truly is a piece of art. Let’s go with it.” Isabelle jumps up and gives Blaine a hug. “You pulled it off! I have to admit, when you told us the ideas for article and cover on Sunday, I didn’t think we had any chance of making such a tight deadline. But you did!” “I honestly couldn’t have done it without everyone pulling together and working crazy hours. The real proof will be in the reactions of Kurt and the readers on Tuesday.” Once everyone has cleared out of his office, Blaine checks the time. He needs to get ready to leave for the airport. He plans to be in LA over the weekend so that he can spend time with Sam and Cooper. Blaine feels bad about cutting his last trip short, but once Kurt left, Blaine just wanted to go home. When Blaine hears his phone ping, he quickly looks at the new message. You’ve been quiet this week. I miss you :(. Is everything okay? – K xx Blaine feels badly about not being in touch with Kurt all week, but he’s afraid that if he talked to Kurt, he would blurt out his plans by mistake. As much as Blaine hates doing it, he types out his reply. Work has been incredibly busy with the June issue deadline. I’m off to LA and won’t be returning until Monday night. Let’s talk on Tuesday. I love you and miss you too. – B xxxxxxxx Blaine quickly grabs his carry-on suitcase and heads out of the building and into his car, which is waiting at the curb. “Traffic is fine, Blaine. I think we’ll make it to JFK airport with plenty of time to spare. Get done what you needed to at the office?” Bentley asks. “Yeah, I’ve approved the June issue to go to the printers. It’s been quite the week. Thanks for putting up with me and all the craziness of getting me to different locations. I’m looking forward to a weekend relaxing with Sam, Mercedes and Cooper.” That it's… All or nothing… All or nothing… Cause this is my life… I'm not gonna live it twice… Blaine smiles as he presses accept on his phone. “Hey, Marley. What’s up?” “Oh my god, Blaine. You’ll never believe it. SONY is interested in our song! I personally dropped the demo off at their offices this morning, and you know what? It turns out that the personal assistant of the VP in charge of new talent has been to the Treble Clef Jazz Club before and has heard me sing ‘All or Nothing’. He remembered the song and loves it, so brought the demo directly to his boss. After about 30 minutes, the VP ushered me into her office and started to discuss a deal to produce my first album.” “That’s wonderful news, Marley!” “You better get your songwriting into gear, because I need about eight more songs.” “That’s kind of you to think of me,” replies Blaine. “It’s more than that, Blaine. The VP loved the music composition. She wants to see more original songs like that.” “Marley, I’m on my way to the airport now and will be in LA until next Tuesday night. Why don’t I call you when I get back and we can discuss it in more detail?” After agreeing to talk next week, Blaine ends the call and lets out a deep breath. Everything has happened so quickly this week. Recording the demo song on Saturday, changing the direction of Vogue’s June issue on Sunday, haircuts, body wax, and the interview on Monday, the photo shoots on Tuesday and Wednesday, reviewing the issue on Thursday, and approving the interview and cover photo today. However, Blaine thinks it’s all worth it, particularly if he gets to see Kurt next week. Blaine mentally goes through all the plans from now until Tuesday, June 1st. There’s only one last detail he needs to take care of. He scrolls through his contact list and makes the call. “Blaine. What can I do for you, bud?” “Hi, Burt. After we talked on Saturday, I figured out a plan to woo Kurt.” “I know you did. Your father filled me in. I even went over to the Monarch House to be in the photos. I can’t wait to see Kurt’s face when he sees the June issue. He’s gonna love it.” “I hope he does. I need your help on one little matter. What are you doing next Tuesday at 3 p.m.?” ***** Tuesday Kurt is surprised to see his father at the kitchen table at 8 a.m. Usually, he’s already left at that time to open the garage. “Shouldn’t you be at work, Dad?” “Timmy’s opening the shop today. I thought I would take it easy this morning.” Kurt sees his father glance at the kitchen clock and fidget on his seat. “You home all day, kiddo?” “No plans yet. I’m going to spend time designing this morning. I’ll see what the weather’s like before I decide what to do in the afternoon.” “How about I come home early and we do something together. You’re always going on at me about how we don’t have a decent guest bedroom. Maybe we can fix it up or something?” Kurt looks at his father skeptically. Since when does his dad volunteer to decorate a room? Before Kurt can figure out what’s going on, the doorbell rings. “Go answer the door. It’s for you.” Kurt shakes his head and chuckles. Something is definitely going on. When he answers the door, he sees the postman with a large envelope from Vogue. Kurt accepts the envelope and sets it down on the counter before opening the fridge to figure out what he’ll have for breakfast. “Aren’t you gonna open it?” “It’s just the June issue of Vogue. I’ll read it this evening after dinner.” “You’ll do no such thing! Open it now!” Burt roars. “Okay, Dad. Calm down - remember your heart. I didn’t know it’s so important to you that I read Vogue as soon as I receive it.” “Well, it is,” Burt huffs. Kurt can feel his dad’s eyes on him as he carefully takes the magazine out of the envelope. Kurt’s jaw drops and tears slowly form when he sees the cover.

Blaine is on the cover. Blaine is naked from the waist up, wearing what looks like shorts. Kurt can tell that Blaine has been keeping up his exercise regime and he likes what he sees. Before Kurt gets too carried away looking at the distinctive V trailing down into the shorts, his eyes rake up Blaine’s chest. Did Blaine really wax his body? Kurt hopes that he can convince Blaine to grow back his chest hair because he loves the feel of it against his naked body. It does things to him. Kurt next looks at Blaine’s face. Blaine’s wearing make-up, but it’s slightly smudged – as if he has just finished a strenuous performance. Kurt bites his fist when he manages to take his eyes off Blaine to see the total picture. Blaine’s arms are clasped together as if praying, and behind him are butterfly wings. The wings are ethereal and look almost transparent - a blend of green and blue colors, with flecks of gold. Kurt gasps when he sees that Blaine’s only adornment is the silicone rainbow bracelet. The background looks as if Blaine has risen from a fantasy scene. Printed along the top of the cover is Blaine Anderson – Find out what really matters to him. Kurt wipes his tears from his eyes, appreciating that no-one else would understand the butterfly wings. Only him. It’s all for him. Kurt feels his father wrap his arms around him. The feeling grounds him as he cries into his dad’s chest. “I hope those are happy tears, son.” “I can’t believe that Blaine did this. God, I love him so much.” “I know you do. Aren’t you going to read the interview?” Kurt nods and returns to his seat. He opens the issue and gasps when he sees the beginning of the six-page article.

The first pages contain two amazing photos of Blaine with a different, more polished look altogether. Blaine’s hair has been cut short along the sides and back, but the top has been left long with luscious curls. Kurt loves the new hair style. There’s shimmery blue glitter both over and under Blaine’s eyes and it expertly fades into his upper cheek bones. There’s a strip of pink rouge on his cheeks that blends into his sideburns. Blaine’s full lips are coated with bright red shimmery lipstick. The photos are just head shots, but continue the butterfly wings theme. In the first photo, Blaine is wearing a pair of butterfly wings, and in the second photo, three butterflies flutter in front of his face. Blaine looks absolutely stunning. The article starts with setting out some background information about Blaine, but then it delves into what matters to him. Kurt thinks that the article is brilliantly laid out into themes, with corresponding photos. There’s a photo of Blaine playing the piano in his penthouse. The article goes on to describe how music is important in his life. The next photo is of Blaine running in Central Park, and the article describes how Blaine keeps fit and healthy. Kurt turns the page and sees a photo of the Monarch House, with teenagers and parents at a BBQ in the backyard. He looks closely to see if he can recognize anybody. He can make out Michael and… “Dad, you were in on this!” Burt laughs and checks out the photo. “That photo has turned out alright. Michael Anderson called me last Monday night and told me a little about the issue. I wanted to be a part of it, so I took Tuesday morning off,” Burt sheepishly replies. Kurt grimaces when he sees the photo of Blaine and Sebastian. It’s the exact same photo that he discovered in Blaine’s wallet in LA. His eyes quickly return to the article. Sebastian Smythe is the editor-in-chief of Elle magazine, our major competitor. Sebastian and I have known each other since high school and have always been rivals. It’s made me stay alert to potential problems and to take risks for new opportunities. It’s kept me on my toes and spurred me on to keep moving forward. Up until recently, I kept this photo in my wallet as a reminder that competition is essential to push yourself to succeed. Honestly, I admire Sebastian. He’s smart and a very savvy businessman. His recent donation to the Monarch Foundation only confirms that there is a compassionate side to him as well. Kurt feels horrible that he jumped to conclusions as to why Blaine kept that photo in his wallet. He knew there would be a perfectly good reason that didn’t include a bet about him. Blaine was very clever at working this into the article. Kurt laughs at the photo of Blaine in his Nightbird Outfit. He definitely wants to see Blaine in it in a more private setting. He reads the corresponding part of the interview carefully. Someone special recently reminded me how important bucket lists are. They can contain little things like exploring your neighborhood or trying something new. However, a really good bucket list also has your long-term hopes and dreams. Kurt thinks about his bucket list and can’t wait until they include hopes and dreams shared with Blaine. When Kurt turns the page, nothing has prepared him for the photo. It is simply Blaine’s lower arm and hand with the silicone rainbow bracelet stamped Love is love is love is love. Above all else, love is what matters to me. It’s the love of my family, who are very supportive. It has only been this year that I learned how important my father’s love is. Working with him to establish the Monarch House in Westerville has been an incredible experience. It has taught me that my roots really matter. It’s the love of my partner, someone I can truly be myself with. My love for him fills me with such joy and makes me feel as if I can do anything. But at the same time, it grounds me and keeps me safe and connected. Most importantly, he’s my best friend, and there is nothing better than a day spent together. The future? I very much believe in marriage and I want to spend every day of my life loving my future husband. I hope it will be full of love for our children and grandchildren. I will die a very happy man if I can achieve this sort of love. This is what really matters to me. Kurt puts down the magazine. Blaine has laid out each of his core values in this article. There are so many little things in the article that make it feel so personal to him. “I’m going to lie down in my room, Dad. I’ve got a lot to think about.” “Yes, I think you do. I’m going to head to the garage to make sure everything is okay. I’ll see you at lunchtime.” ***** “Are you sure dove gray will be a good color for the walls? It sounds dreary to me.” “It’s sophisticated, Dad. And it will go perfectly with the Ralph Lauren comforter set. I even have a 20% off coupon at Bed, Bath and Beyond. It won’t cost that much.” Burt checks his watch for the hundredth time since they started the project in the guest bedroom. When it’s 2:55 p.m., Burt stretches his arms over his head. “Okay, kiddo. You can order the comforter set. I’ll pick up the paint this week and we can decorate this weekend. What do you say we watch some TV?” “No, thanks, Dad. You know I hate watching ESPN.” “Come on, Kurt. I promise not to watch sports. Maybe a reality show or something like that?” “Really?” “I wanna spend as much time as possible with you before you run off to New York City again. I have a feeling that’s going to be sooner rather than later.” Kurt follows Burt down the stairs and into the living room. When Kurt picks up the TV remote, his dad snatches it out of his hands and sits in his comfortable reclining armchair. “I thought I could pick the show,” Kurt groans. “You can, but let me flick through the channels first.” Kurt sits down on the couch and picks up Vogue, staring at Blaine on the cover. Frankly, he couldn’t care less what they watch because he wants to read the article all over again. “Fancy that. The Ellen Show is on. Let’s watch it,” Burt suggests. Kurt quirks an eyebrow at his dad. “You like The Ellen Show?” “I don’t get to watch it ‘cause I’m always at the garage in the afternoons. I wanna see what it’s all about. I hear she has interesting guests.” Kurt shrugs. If his dad wants to watch The Ellen Show, he can. It doesn’t matter to Kurt. He continues to stare at the photo of Blaine on Vogue’s cover, wondering what his next move should be. He hears the audience clapping and Ellen’s voice doing the usual introduction. “… warm welcome for the one and only Blaine Anderson” Kurt looks up when he hears Blaine’s name and sees Blaine walking across the stage. “You knew about this too!” Kurt cries out, tossing a throw pillow at his dad. “I’ve set the DVR up. Now, shhh, let’s watch it.” Blaine is wearing black-and-white geometric sports jacket and matching trousers with a pink collared shirt, unbuttoned at the top. Not many men could pull off that look, but Blaine looks incredible in it. “Blaine, you look fantastic. Who are you wearing?” “Thank you, Ellen. I’m wearing Thom Browne. There are lots of amazing designs come through Vogue’s doors.” “I haven’t seen you since you became Vogue’s editor-in-chief. How’s that going?” Kurt listens to Blaine explain what has been going on at Vogue, but his mind is really focused on a key question. What the hell is Blaine Anderson doing on The Ellen Show on an ordinary Tuesday? Kurt tunes back in when Blaine stops talking about Vogue. “I hear that you might have found a new job.” When Blaine gives her a questioning look, the back screen lights up with Blaine’s photo on Vogue’s June cover. The audience gasps and is silent for a moment or two, before loud shrieks and applause can be heard. “Ladies and gentlemen… Blaine Anderson, the supermodel.” “I’m not sure about that. I won’t be giving up my day job any time soon. Modeling is hard work!” “So what made you do it? Why grace the cover of Vogue?” “Vogue’s April issue was about ‘pushing boundaries’. It made me wonder if I pushed the boundaries in my own life. I was recently in LA, just for a day, and I had an epiphany – a clear vision about what’s important in my life.” The photos from the Vogue issue fade in and out of the back screen. Blaine and Ellen talk through the highlights of the magazine article, with additional time spent on the Monarch Foundation. “I think we all want to know why you decided to make such a public statement.” “There are so many photos of me on social media and things written about me. 99% of it isn’t true.” “You mean you aren’t a man-eater who can have sex simultaneously in New York, London and Sydney? “No, and I don’t live in a castle either,” Blaine chuckles. The last photo of Blaine’s wrist with the rainbow bracelet appears on the screen. “So, love…” Ellen prompts. Blaine takes a sip of water before he continues. “Since I was a teenager, I’ve always known that love, a husband and a family are important to me. Being gay, I didn’t know how that would work out until marriage equality swept through all 50 states.” The studio audience applauds and loudly cheers, before allowing Blaine to continue. “It was during that special day in LA that I went from believing to knowing that love is the most important thing in my life. To have a husband, children – that would make me complete.” “That must have been one very special day.” “Yeah, it was,” Blaine shyly replies. “So, is there someone special in your life?” “Yes, there is a special man in my life. I’m not going to name him. Our relationship is still new and fragile, but I love him very much.” “I understand you have a song you want to perform.” Blaine nods his head. “After the break, we will be hearing a live performance from Blaine Anderson.” Kurt’s tears turn into sobs as the ads start. Burt walks over, sits on the couch and pulls Kurt in with one arm. “I just…” “I know, Kurt. Deep breaths.” When The Ellen Show returns, Blaine is on the stage sitting at a baby grand piano, with a small back-up band. The spotlight is on Blaine, and as he looks up, he says, “This one’s for you, boyfriend.” If I was a raindrop Would you be my thunder storm? It's cold so surround me With rain clouds to keep me warm I feel like I'm falling So darling, don't let me go The thought is appalling But should I slip away Into the stormy sea will you remember me? Kurt loves the song, its upbeat tempo, and Blaine’s rich tenor voice as he sings. The song’s lyrics are playful and hopeful, and give Kurt a warm feeling. Asleep in our warm cocoons We dream of lovely things We're both gonna wake up soon So we hope that tomorrow brings Us our butterfly wings Kurt laughs at the butterfly reference. Butterflies are really their thing. It had started with the first photo shoot where Kurt modeled for Vogue and then led to the beautiful brooch Blaine gave him for his birthday. When the song ends, Kurt can hear a thunder of applause from the audience. When Ellen introduces the next guest, Burt gets up and switches off the TV. He glances over at Kurt furiously tapping on his tablet. “6:36 a.m. tomorrow,” Burt remarks. Kurt looks up and gives his father a questioning look. “The next direct flight from Dayton to New York City is at 6:36 tomorrow morning. There are still seats left. I checked earlier.” “But… How did you know?” “Buddy, it’s been obvious since you arrived ten days ago. You may be in Lima, but your heart is firmly in New York City. After what Anderson did for you, I figured that you would want to go to him.” “Do you think I’m ready?” “The more important question is whether you think you’re ready,” Burt replies. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do with my life, but studying fashion is a step in the right direction to figure it out. One thing I know for sure is that in any version of my life that I dream about, Blaine is in it.” “So what are you waiting for? Don’t you have a phone call to make? Some packing to do? I’ll go book the flight.” ***** “Kurt…Hi,” Blaine says when he answers his phone. “I love you! I love you! I love you! That photo on Vogue’s cover is amazing. The article is amazing. The Ellen Show is amazing. The song is amazing. You’re amazing.” “It wasn’t too over the top?” “Of course it was, but that’s what I love about it. How did you organize things so fast? I only gave you the rainbow wristband ten days ago.” “Let’s just say that very few people at Vogue got any sleep last week,” Blaine chuckles. “But I would move heaven and earth if it meant that you would come to New York City to be with me.” “You’re the master of the cheesy lines.” “Do they work?” Blaine whispers. “I have only question for you, Blaine…” When Kurt hears Blaine breath hitch, he continues, “Will you pick me up at LaGuardia tomorrow morning?" Author notes Song at Blaine’s photo shoot – ‘What a Difference a Day Made’. There are many covers of this song but my favorite is by Jamie Cullum. Song Blaine sings on the Ellen Show – ‘Butterfly Wings’ by Owl City. Now you know how I picked the title for the story :) Next up: Kurt arrives in New York City. Heads up – there are only three more chapters and an epilogue to go.

#My fic : Butterfly Wings #HKVoyage writes #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic

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