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georgemackayhey · 4 years

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More Than A Night Out

warning: Explicit content 18+ Only

w/c: 5k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You sat behind the roped off a section of a smoke-filled bar in one of Vegas' most hectic hotels, sporting a fancy dress and feeling a bit anxious.

"I'm George. And you're who I'm supposed to be introducing myself to, right?" He stood leaning in close before you clad in a casual leather jacket with his hands shoved in his pockets. Reading body language had become a much more important part of this job than you'd once figured. But there was a difference between assessing and staring. And you had to catch yourself on the edge of openly gawking at the lean beauty who called himself George.

"Yes, yes, thanks for sparing some time for a chat." You smiled warmly, scooting to the corner of the curved red vinyl booth. George let his nervous grin flicker into a warmer expression as he slid in to meet the opposite corner of the table.

You were a writer for an independent magazine based out of New York. Your publisher had sent you all over America to interview all kinds of talented people of current pop culture. You were used to celebrities and their lingo, and you were used to the pseudo niceties these interviews came along with. After answering your questions with nothing but pride, your subjects would leave and go on being popular. It was your job to make them seem like normal human beings, with an overload of charm.

In your lap, a hardback notebook held all your hastily scribbled questions that you thought up in preparation for this moment. You were meant to ask George MacKay how his latest film had changed his life and about his rise to fame. You were supposed to get him to gush about acting and tell you some beautiful antidote no other interview had managed to hear the likes of. Your job tonight was to focus on George's latest project, 1917. But George asked the first question.

"So you've been doing this a while, huh?" The man with sky blue eyes asked. A waiter had breezed by, sliding a list of drinks for you pair to choose from.

"I only ask because the bio in your email was like, really impressive. I don't know if I'm worthy." George laughed, gazing at the beer list as you shrugged. You had conducted conversations with the likes of many old, jaded stars. Tonight was different. A young, spirited man sat across from you and his eyes were shining right into yours. You were completely unworthy.

"Don't worry. I'll only write exactly what you say." You smiled, eyeing the mixed drinks, but only ordering water when the waiter came back by.

"What's been your craziest interview?" George wondered, propping his chin in his hand as he looked to you like a boy in school, and you were a fireman on career day. You laughed out loud, because yes. You laugh because you were supposed to be asking the questions.

"I made Axel Rose cry." You grinned, peeking behind a strand of your hair to ensure this wasn't something you went around telling everyone. "He was the guest during a benefit for our magazine. I asked about his family and he just sort of lost it."

George laughed out loud, beaming at you. So far, this felt more like riffing with an old friend of a friend. You nearly forgot about the list of questions in your lap. But even after you cracked open your notebook, George still had more to say.

"With the right questions, I bet you get a lot of dirt." He rose a pale brow as if there was something he was trying to get you to understand. A code he wished you would crack.

"You should let me ask you a few." You mused, leaning in a little closer to establish your longing to get this show on the road. Not that you wanted the night to end sooner. You could have basked in the glow of his blinding smile for all time. But you were on a clock...

George watched your mouth move as you asked him about 1917. He looked you in the eyes when he told you his favorite memories from set. You watched his hands move around as he explained the impact that acting out such a tumultuous time period had on his personal and professional life. In the lulls in between conversation, when he paused to sip his lager, your eyes met each others. It was by far one of the more enjoyable nights of your career. He was easy to listen to and very lovely to look at.

When the clock struck midnight, and your notebook was filled with more information than you'd even consider finalizing, the night ended. With smiles and genuine thanks, you parted from the grotty Vegas bar. But as you made your way through the casino, you turned back to see George lingering near the elevators, watching you disappear into the crowd.

___

Up in your luxurious room, too nice for someone to stay in all alone, you checked your phone. You had a flight to catch in the morning, travel that would put you home right in time for the weekend.

But a dark email loomed at the top of your notification bar. Your flight had been delayed due to weather, a wicked snow storm had taken residence in New York. Seriously, this late in February? The airline had given you a limited few options for later flights, and you slumped on the downy hotel bed, booking the soonest flight out of this trashy city.

Looked like you'd be spending another day hanging around the hotel that felt more like a small city of its own. Luckily, you had something, rather; someone to write that would keep you pleasantly distracted.

___

Last nights silky was totally worth sporting in front of your modern-day movie star crush, but you were glad to be more comfortable this morning. After a long scalding shower, you slipped into reasonable leggings and an old band shirt that was a few sizes too large. This could pass as sporty, right? With thoughts of fashion draining from your head, you grabbed your laptop and started a lazy shuffle toward the lobby of the hotel.

You usually wrote in coffee shops, back home, but the lobby swarmed with tourists was a little too hectic for your liking. Luckily, you wandered to the opposite wing of the lodge and found a relatively cozy nook outside of a casino. It was too early for the swarm of gamblers to distract you with drunken cheers, but the stead buzz of well-groomed patrons coming and going from the bar was white noise music to your ears.

You nestled into a chaise lounge chair by a window and ignored everything besides your laptop screen. There was nothing that could stop you from spending a little too long scrolling through George's fan tag on Instagram. When you finally started to outline the story based on his interview, you were one hundred words from your limit of one thousand, and you still hadn't said everything you wanted. You could have gushed over his polite and charming nature long enough to take up every page of the magazine you worked for.

But you reigned yourself in, reworded for a while, and started to finalize the article when a passer-by disrupted your work for the first time in a couple of hours.

"Is that about me?" It was him.

"Oh my God." You laughed, clutching onto your laptop like an instinct. You were shocked to see George again; dressed in a fine-looking sweater that made your heart buzz with a silly warmth. You cursed your leggings and wondered why you were stupid enough to wear your old thrift store Bowie tshirt in public.

"Can I read it?" George grew a wicked grin, moving to sit at the foot of the chaise you occupied. You scrambled to straighten your poster as your heart speed up in search of an excuse. You really shouldn't let him do that- but you couldn't say no to his sweet face, especially when he was smiling right at you.

"Uh..." You glanced between George and the laptop you'd been staring at for far too long. You realized that you were one spell check away from sending the damn thing in. You pressed the spellcheck button in a flash, so you wouldn't have to lie. But no errors were found, and you were left with zero choice.

"Just know I shouldn't be doing this." You warned, scooting your laptop away with a cringe. George, in all his charm, waggled his brow at you as he leaned in a little closer to read your story. You held your breath at his silly expression and ceased to breathe the entire time his eyes locked onto your laptop screen.

"This..." George spoke up after a very scary bout of silence. He shook his head as his eyes scanned the page on your laptop, and you felt your heart begin to stall.

"You actually, like... listened to what I had to say," George smirked in unmistakable disbelief. "It's so much more than a Q&A. You drew conclusions and made our conversation into a story. It's perfect." George glanced up to you for the first time in a while, and his eyes were searing into yours.

"Geez," You chuckled nervously, digging your nails into the stitching on the cushion below you. "Thank you, George. I never really get feedback like that from anyone I write for." You realized. Sure, you're articles we're promoted by the people featured in them, but they hardly ever had a direct comment on your work.

"When is it coming out?" George wondered, leaning on his elbow, looking up toward you. You leaned toward the laptop that was the barrier between you and the pretty man, but were closer to him than ever before.

"I just have to change the font..." You noted, pressing buttons as you spoke. "open my email..." George's eyes eventually flickered from your face back to your screen. "and send it in."

"Would you like to do the honors?" You grinned, moving the cursor over the send button on the screen. George gazed back to you with a hearty chuckle but didn't waste much more time before clicking the send button for you.

"And now we wait." You shrugged, wrapping your arms around your waist as the handsome man smiled your way. Oh if you'd only put on a little lipstick...

"How should we pass the time, then?" George wondered in a curious lilt. "Oh, let's go drink one of those thirty-four-ounce margaritas to celebrate. It's the perfect occasion to day drink." Was he kidding? Because you weren't entirely sure if you were being punk'd or not, you tried to hide your wide-eyed reaction as you responded.

"I'm hardly dressed for the occasion." You grinned, shutting your laptop.

"If it's any consolation, that bar is empty right now, besides there's a lady asleep in the back in her clothes from last night." George pointed across the way. There we're people flooding the casino and taking their drinks to gamble. There was no way you were about to pass up this opportunity.

In the blink of an eye, you were sitting at a bar top, turned toward each other to share a ridiculously overpriced thirty-four-ounce strawberry margarita out of honest to God silly straws.

"This should actually be illegal."

"Do you remember the prohibition, George?" You laughed, watching the blended ice travel through the purple looped straw as you sipped.

"Of course not." George laughed incredulously. "Just because I lived through the war doesn't mean I'm that old."

"Ha ha." You mused, wondering why it was so easy to be around George. You'd just met him, but from the moment he opened his mouth, it was like you'd been chatting together for years. It was like he saw past the questions you were being paid to ask, and heard you asking them. Maybe just because you really did want to know his answers.

"I want to know what you've lived through," George demanded, taking a turn to drink out his straw from the margarita you'd been sharing. He'd been asking questions like that since you'd met him, and your chest blossomed with nerves as he peered up at you through his lashes. In your nervous scramble to give George an answer, your brain settled on a story about the first time you met Will Smith.

"Wait, wait, wait." George broke away from his green silly straw and held a dismissive hand out in front of you.

"We're off the record now, y/l/n. I want to know the real shit! Ya know, the last time you cried. Your Chipoltle order." George was waving his hands as if his questions were obvious. You laughed out loud, throwing your head back and relishing the moment you realized how lucky you were to be living in this moment.

So you reluctantly told him some things. You couldn't justify giving your best details away, but you liked the idea of a stranger knowing you the worst thing you did in second grade, and a silly trademark your family coined. George kept his brilliant gaze set on you, and you could almost see your own stories coming to life in his eyes. He was actually listening to you.

The focus on you was becoming a bit too overwhelming, so you shifted to ask George a few more questions, tipsy enough to pry for a few of the same antidotes George had asked you for. After laughing over a few fun facts about his hometown and the time he ran away from his mum in the supermarket, you both settled into silence. You were busy trying to compute how wild this afternoon had turned.

"How long are you staying?" He asked after a beat. When he caught your attention, you realized he'd never lost it and you'd been staring at him like you longed to do last night.

"Oh uh-"

"I was gifted tickets to one of those Cirque shows and my friend's flights got canceled.. So... I thought maybe... you'd wanna..."

"I... sure." You sit up straight, trying to bite back the cheesy grin on your face. You weren't sure how you ended up here in Vegas, sharing a drink with a stunning boy, but you thanked your lucky stars as George went one telling you the details he'd roped you into tonight.

___

The storm in New York had only gotten worse, as you scrolled through updates on your cities local website. Your flight was supposed to take off tomorrow morning, but the storm hadn't let up since the last flight got canceled. You decided now wasn't the time to worry, and went about tearing through your suitcase praying you'd find something nice enough to wear.

You exchanged room numbers, agreeing to meet up at George's tonight. You had more than enough time to get ready but still scrambled to present yourself as perfectly as possible. Agreeing to a night out with George was as lucky as you'd ever been.

After shimmying into a pretty outfit and fixing your makeup just right, your phone buzzed with a notification. Your editor had sent you the final edit of the story you'd written for George, praising you for a job well done. You couldn't help but giggled as you skipped down the hall on the way to George's room, three stories higher.

"Hello, love! You look wonderful." George smiled wide as he opened the door, gesturing for you to come in. His single room was much like yours, a living area and kitchen big enough to house a family, and a bedroom off down the hall. Vegas confounded you.

You rested your room key on a desk near the door and watched George slide into a sharp blue jacket, bringing out the shine of his matching eyes. God, how did he get better looking by the minute?

He escorted you from his suite with a coy grin as if your outing was scandalous.

"Your interview should be published next week. My editor loves it." You informed, walking in step with George to the elevators.

"Of course they do, you're an incredible writer." George pulled a face as if this were a fact everyone knew. You pushed the elevator button with a roll of your eyes, unsure how to handle his outlandish flattery.

"All because of the answers you gave me. You're an incredible subject." You fawned, feeling brave enough to in one fleeting moment.

"Then we make the perfect pair," George smirked at you, keeping his eyes on yours as you passed into the elevator doors. Your legs must have figured out how to move on their own because you felt a bit stunned still by the look in George's eye after his soft comment.

The Cirque show was just across the street in another hotel. But because Vegas was insane, it took you a solid fifteen minutes to cross between traffic and a packed hotel lobby to get to the venue inside. By the time you and George settled into your seats, you felt all too unworthy of what was happening.

"Thanks again for bringing me along. I don't know how I got so lucky." You huffed a nervous laugh, trying not to openly swoon over how close you were to the boy. His leg was just barely far enough away from brushing against yours, and you were meant to sit there like it was totally cool for the next hour.

"Trust me, I'm the lucky one." George nodded, turning his head toward the stage as the lights went dim. Your heart was beating a mile a minute and during the first few minutes of the show, all you could truly focus on was how close George was to you. You felt like a schoolgirl on her first date, and reprimanded yourself for letting your feelings get this way.

But halfway through the show, something astounding happened. It was more thrilling than all the acrobatics and dance numbers happening on stage before you. George let his fingers bloom across your palm before they fit perfectly between yours. He sat holding your hand with his eyes fixed on the show, while you tried to keep from melting off the seat into a puddle.

The show ended and you walked out of the theater together, quietly flooding out into the street that was somehow busier than before.

"Thanks for that. I've only been to Vegas for work and have never had time to do the cheesy trashy fun bits."

"Me either." George looked to you and you could tell he was brewing some idea behind his sparkling eyes. Just then, his full name was called out from somewhere beyond your shared gaze. That's when you realized you were still holding his hand. You took a step back, untangling your fingers when you realized a group of drunk college students were excitedly asking for George's photo. You watched from a few steps away and swallowed the silly blooming crush you couldn't shake. What happens in Vegas stayed, right? Maybe you were both just blinded by the ancient ideal.

But when the fans disbanded, George didn't waste a beat slipping his hand back into your grasp.

"Let's go have some fun." He waggled his brow the same as he had hours ago, smirking all the while.

You proceeded to drink and laugh and gamble and dance into the early morning. Your evening became a blur of flashing neon lights and booming bass notes. Even in your alcohol-fueled daze, you fully felt George's fingers linger on your shoulder as he led you to and from the dance floor. His touch was warm and steady and the only thing that made sense in the night full of fast-paced fun you had no time to process.

On the walk back to the hotel, reality threatened to seep in as your feet burned in your heels. When you realized you left your room key in George's room, you felt no shame in taking your heels off and walking the hotel carpet with a little more ease. "I'm all for a movie night in but that was so much fun."

"Me too. Let's have a movie night next." George grinned, wasted as you were.

"Yes!" You fawned in exhausted excitment.

He led you into his room where your room key sat waiting where you'd left it. But the thought of walking one more step made you want to cry. So you asked if George minded if you sat for a moment; settling on the tiny loveseat giving your feet a break and talking yourself into the last bit of walking toward your room.

Yeah, big mistake. Before you knew it, you were totally passed out there and slept soundly on the sofa in a room that wasn't yours. When you woke up and noticed your shoe's near George's by the door you felt so embarrassed for having crashed like that, your weak hangover trumped by shame.

"Shit." You mutter, quietly moving to sneak toward the door. Your cellphone rested on the counter next to your room key. But as you reach for your things, you hear George shuffle into the room. He's dressed for a new day in a plain button-up and suit jacket.

"Oof, I'm really sorry for falling asleep." You cringed, grabbing your room key, a little afraid to look right in George's eye.

"It's alright really." He nodded. "It was so late, I don't know how you slept on that little thing. But I didn't want to move you and make it weird." George kind of grimaced, hoping his comment wasn't as equally unwelcome as he seemed to think the action might have been. "I'm sorry you don't have to leave just yet."

"I have a flight, actually." You frowned suddenly, wishing you didn't have to leave this place you hated a day ago. But as you unlocked your phone to make sure you weren't too late, there we're a slew of emails from your flight agency, canceling your morning commute again.

"And now I don't have a flight."

George's phone seemed to buzz to life at the same moment, it was a new day after all. He glanced at his notifications frowning the same as you just had.

"Well I was going to invite you to breakfast but I've got another meeting added to my list of a ridiculous amount of things to do today." George sighed.

You knew the fun would have to come to an end sooner rather than later, he was a busy guy, an increasingly important, beautiful, busy guy. And you were stuck in Vegas all over again, without much to keep you occupied from how much you'd grown to love it here, just a little.

"Maybe we can have that movie night if I get back early enough." George smiled, leaning over to retrieve his shoes from the doormat. You couldn't believe George had remembered your off the cuff remark from early this morning, but somehow his comment felt more like a raincheck, than an invite. And whether you were hungover or paranoid, you couldn't tell.

So you took the cue to gather your things, opting to carry your shoes and stood in the doorway.

"You know where to find me, then." You offered, too afraid of agreeing right off and seeming too desperate to spend more time with him. You wished George good luck with all his movie star duties for the day and sulked on the long walk back to your shitty matching room.

___

Your day was spent ordering room service, exhausted by the idea of going back out and about in all the madness that made up Vegas. You scrolled through a measly list of flights to take, opting to stay another night and hoping the storm would pass soon. Soon, the sun was setting and after a long bubble bath, you slipped into your favorite pair of pj's, planning to listen to some podcasts to make the most of this evening. But just as you finished cleaning up, a knock came at your door. You hadn't ordered more room service, and there was a sign dangling from your door handle warning away the maids.

You were surprised to find George on the other side of your door, looking happy to see you. You honestly hadn't expected to see him again, you thought your luck had run its course. And you spent the whole day trying not to reminisce over the way you'd grown more comfortable near each other as the night went on.

You greeted him with a smile, comfortable enough in your pj's when you noticed he was wearing joggers now, too.

"You shed the suit?" You laughed.

"I figured if we're having a movie night I better dress for the occasion," George smirked. You hung your head to hide your blush and opened the door wider for him to come in all the way.

Okay, so maybe you had failed to plan this far ahead, but you hardly cared what happened next. You and George floated to the sofa in front of the television, and he reached for the remote.

“Have you memorized the tv guide yet?” George prodded as you sat next to him, leaving a sliver of space for good measure.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been far too busy running around the city this weekend.” You smiled, turning your gaze toward the television, too skittish to meet George’s baby blue eyes this close up.

He clicked his tongue as if to say “what a shame” all while flipping through channels. He landed on Hallmark, tossing the remote down ceremoniously. You couldn’t help but laugh as the movie seemed to just begin.

“Is that Betty White?” You chuckled.

“You’re welcome.” George boasted over getting lucky finding this film queued up perfectly for the two of you on this spontaneous night. You spent a little bit laughing over the cheesy musical flares and dramatics that made up every great Hallmark film, this one included. But as the film played on, you couldn’t help but notice the bits of genuinely good storytelling peeking through.

George kept you laughing throughout the film, but near the end, both of you got quiet and watched in silence until the credits rolled.

“Damn. That was actually just a little bit good.” George spoke up, a little quiet. That’s when you noticed how close he’d gotten to you. The sliver of space you’d left at the beginning of the movie was now barely noticeable.

“Yeah.” You laughed, amazed by more than just the film. “This whole weekend has been surprisingly wonderful.” You spoke softly, daring to glance right at George, who had already fixed his eyes on you.

You couldn't tell who made the first move but the next thing you know, you're kissing him. You and George took turns sharing feather-light pecks, each of you chasing each other kiss after one ended. George was definitely the first to place both strong hands around the back of your head and kiss you like he meant it. You were nearly too stunned to kiss him back, but once you started the floodgates broke off their hinges and there was no turning back. You climbed into his lap and latched on for all it was worth because surely this was a dream and you weren't ready to wake up at all.

You savored the steady build of his fingers trailing down your arms while your kisses grew deeper, mouths pushing against each others like you’d been doing this for ages. Your hands had a mind of their own, creeping softly under the hem of George’s soft tshirt to his hot skin below.

"Hey," George gently broke your kiss and cupped your face in both hands. You practically held your breath as his shimmering eyes searched yours. "You okay with this?" George seemed to genuinely wonder. His voice was dripping with lust and his body was warm underneath yours. It didn't take a detective to read George like a book, but he still had the self-control and gentle heart to make sure you were comfortable. It only made you want him more. But you were still far too shy to say so, no matter your actions. So you bit your lip and hummed in sweet agreeance, wrapping your hands around George’s neck.

You watched George’s face stretch into a smile before he ducked his head to the crook of your neck where he let out a contented sigh before grazing his teeth along your skin. You squealed with delight when he swiftly pinned you down on the sofa to playfully pepper your face with kisses like something less heated was taking place.

"You know, now would be the perfect time to carry me from the couch to your bed." You rose an encouraging brow, reminding George of just this morning when he was too afraid of disturbing your sleep on his sofa that matched this one. George let out a laugh as he peeled himself off the top of you and picked you up bridal style in his impressively buff arms.

"Right this way, madame." George teased, carrying you through his bedroom door.

You had thrown the covers into place the best you could the last time you woke up here. George rested you gently on the bed, much like you were sleeping and he was afraid of waking you up. But your heart was beating fast enough to win a race, somehow increasing when George rested beside you, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“You’re very pretty, you know?” George blinked, whispering to you.

“I’m glad you think so.” You spoke back even quieter, reaching out to touch his face. He was so handsome it nearly stopped your heart. George leaned in for another kiss, this one slow and steady. You hadn’t felt so content in ages, you could have laid there kissing George forever and been happy. But then his fingers trailed down your side to grab your hip, and you swore you saw stars. George pulled your leg over his and now you were pressed against one another, kisses growing deeper still.

“This alright?” He asked almost timidly, as his fingers crept below your nightshirt.

“Yeah,” You breathed as George moved his kisses down your neck, and his hand to your chest. Your fingers splayed through his hair as he reached around your back to find the clasp on your bralette

“It’s in the front.” You giggled, feeling George smile against your skin.

“Very cute.” He hummed in your ear before kissing your jaw and finding the button. He shoved your shirt most of the way off, and you had to move out from under him to remove it all the way. Before settling back against the pillows, you pulled off George’s shirt so you could revel in the warmth of his skin.

You settled in his lap, each knee on either side of his hips throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him again, somehow still enjoying each brush of his tongue against yours like it was the first time. George signed into your mouth, each pleasant groan traveling straight down your spine. You rolled your hips against his, and George’s groans grew darker.

His fingers were lost in your hair and you found a steady pace to rock against him, drawing out longer whimpers from his lips with each new movement. Soon, his hand toyed with the drawstring of your shorts and he had to break away from your kiss to ask if he could take them off you could only muster an encourageable nod as your breath got caught in your throat. George laid you back, keeping those stunning blue eyes locked on yours all the while, only breaking away when he slid the last of your layers off. His fingers slid slowly between your legs as he laid next to you, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty. How’d I get so lucky?” George spoke, you could feel his breath ghost across your lips while he went on building up the tension in your stomach. It didn’t take long for you to fill with fire, a contradictory chill shooting through your system. You couldn’t take it any longer.

“George,” You sighed, opening your eyes to look at him again, “need you.”

You watched his eyes go dark as he slowly moved away from you, slipping his joggers off and slotting himself between your legs.

“You’re sure?” He asked one final time.

“Please.” You groaned, placing your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. With one last kiss on your lips, the Disney prince type, he pushed into you. If you thought the noises George had made before were beautiful, the ones he was making now could’ve moved you to tears. He found your hand and held it with one of his while the other slipped below your belly button.

Your heavy sighs and desperate moans synced up and you rode your highs on the edge of one another. George didn’t move off the top of you right away, instead, he stayed there with his face buried in your hair soaking up the quiet moment.

“That was wonderful, love.” George whispered in your ear as he fell to your side. You turned to face him, biting back a yawn.

“You’re wonderful.” You sleepily smiled. George pulled you against him then, and you rested your hand on his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. The steady rhythm puts you to sleep in no time.

___

The next morning came late, and the Vegas sun shone brightly through the space between the curtains you forgot to close.

George was still by your side, but you’d drifted apart in the night. So upon noticing his eyes were open and glued on you, you felt no shame curling up next to his side.

"This has been the longest one night stand of my life." You sighed dramatically, comfily resting your head on his broad shoulder. George was quiet for a beat and you were a bit worried you’d upset him. But then he spoke up, with a gentle voice saturated in sleep.

"Wanna see how long we can last? I don’t think I wanna stop waking up to you."

How could you say no? You’d spent the whole weekend saying yes to George, and look where it had gotten you. So you agreed to stay one more night in Vegas, hoping what happened there would last a lifetime.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Requests are open ♡

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay fanfic #george mackay imagine

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spenceraugust · 4 years

Text

TAZNC Day 1

@taznovembercelebration

Selected prompt is italicized: Fake dating/ domesticity

See the month’s prompt list: https://bit.ly/2TUfDLC

Read it on AO3: https://bit.ly/38cjqMO

It had been two weeks. And- okay, when you really think about it, sure, that's not that long. Just enough to start missing someone, but not really enough to feel ready to head back to school.

Holiday break was over, and that meant two things. Midterms and Taako.

Taako's family lived far away- according to the blonde, they were from a small town called New Elfington on the West Coast. He hadn't been home in years, and no matter what he said, Kravitz knew he missed his sister. She and her husband had picked up a kid since the last time Taako had been home. Their grandfather had tested positive for Alzheimer's after wandering into the woods and getting lost. His cousin had opened a woodworking shop and got engaged.

He'd missed a lot in the five years since he'd been back, so Kravitz had been as understanding as possible when Taako broke the news.

He was understanding. That didn't mean he expected it.

"I think I'm going to go home this year," he said, using his French fry to push a chicken nugget around. The cafeteria food was garbage, and Taako hated it, and no matter how many times Kravitz said "hey, aren't you in culinary school? Maybe you should pack lunch." His companion seemed rather insistent on partaking in the distribution of culinary war crimes.

(Kravitz was pretty sure he just liked to complain.)

"Oh?" Kravitz glanced up from his salad. "I- what about our mall date next week to last minute gift shop?"

"Sorry bones," He smiled sadly, "someone else will have to help me deal with the consequences of my actions."

"I mean- good luck, I guess-" Kravitz was sputtering, so he took a sip of his water. "I just- are you going to take a cab? I can't imagine that'll be cheap."

"Lup's got bridesmaids business at Julia's, and that's only an hour and a half away. We're going to pit stop it. They figured out something, I guess- Barry will drive me home and Lup will drive me back," He finally looked up from his lunch, "so you're in charge of holding down the fort until I get back. Promise to not clean my half of the room?"

"Taako," Kravitz placed his hand gently on the back of his best friend's. "I'm absolutely going to clean your half of the room."

Taako was, objectively, a bad roommate. He listened to music loudly, never cleaned his half of the room, had a tendency to invite people over and not warn him, and always seemed to go missing when dorm inspections were supposed to happen.

Kravitz still wasn't sure when he started developing a crush on him, but it was a secret he would take to his grave. He didn't spend the past three years becoming someone Taako trusted by saying every little thing that came to mind.

He was still ecstatic for Taako to come home. They'd never been apart for more than a couple of days. Two weeks was torture, especially when it was filled with aggressive smothering from his mothers. It was good to be back.

💕 Taako 💕 Be home in five, handsome!

His phone buzzed in his hand, and Kravitz nearly dropped it. He'd been sitting in his coat on his bed for the better part of an hour, debating whether or not he should go and wait outside. Was that weird? It felt a little weird. But it was Taako, and it had been two weeks-

Fuck it. He could play it off like he was going to get a coffee. Maybe he'd even get the chance to meet the mysterious sister he'd heard about for years.

And, as his luck would have it, apparently "be home in five" meant "I'm here, but it'll take a couple minutes to take stuff out of the trunk of my brother-in-law's beat up Subaru" (which, by the way, fully lived up to Taako's description).

"Oh, Taako!" He called, trying for pleasantly surprised as he raised a hand and waved. Taako glanced up and grinned, dropping his bag into the snow and jogged over.

"Hey handsome! Long time no see!" He called over the disgruntled cries of his two companions who had been left with the labour of unpacking.

"Hey, how was it?" Kravitz asked, striding towards him. "Did you ever end up finding a gift for Uncle Dav-"

"I need you to play along," Taako said in a frantic whisper, throwing his arms around Kravitz's neck and pulling him into a tight hug.

"What?" Kravitz hugged back instinctively.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, pulling away slightly.

"I hate it when you ask me that- yes?"

"Okay, then follow my lead," and then their fingers were intertwined and Taako was dragging Kravitz through the snow. He wasn't even sure what he just signed himself up for, but Taako looked like an angel in the snow. He could have told Kravitz to take a polar dip and he would have off principle.

"Thanks for leaving me with your heaviest bags, jackass," Taako's mirror image, presumably Lup, hissed.

"I'm sure Kravitz could have walked over alone," Barry (?) added.

"He could have, but I wouldn't let him." Taako grinned. "Give us a hand, bones?"

"Ah." His twin stopped him with a hand as Kravitz reached for a suit case. "Not so fast, we haven't even been properly introduced yet. My name is Lup."

"It's great to finally meet you," he shook her hand, "Taako's told me so much about you- I was starting to wonder if he was keeping us apart on purpose."

At that, she laughed. "Oh, probably- I'm sure he's worried I'll spill all his deepest secrets. Remind me to get your phone number before we leave. I need someone I trust to keep an eye on my little brother."

Taako squawked behind him, but Kravitz just smiled a little wider. "Absolutely. I'd like that."

"I'll have you know, Krav, I'm at least four minutes older-"

"They swapped the babies up, they don't know for sure, dingus-"

"Legally, my birth certificate says I was born first-"

"I'm assuming you're Barry?" Kravitz ducked out of the twin's firing range to head over to the middle aged man wrapped tight in a red coat and blue jeans. "Kravitz."

"You'd be correct in that- I'm Lup's husband. It's good to finally meet you- Lup and I have been discussing for a while what kind of person could possibly keep Taako entertained for anything longer than a week. He talks about you lots as well." Barry shook his hand firmly.

"Good things, I hope?"

"I think that's up to you to decide, bud." He shrugged, before turning back to address the twins, "Hon, we've got a long drive ahead of us. Why don't the four of us grab lunch before we head back to Elfington?"

"Thanks for the offer, Barold, but we're actually not done fighting," Taako said, slinging an arm over his sister's shoulder.

"Well, if you leave your bag in the snow like that, all your stuff is going to get wet," Barry gestured to a suitcase that had been lost in the chaos. "Let's finish unpacking quickly- I'll pay, is that what you wanted to hear, Taako?"

"It's exactly what I wanted to hear," Taako turned to Kravitz with a wide grin. "Come on, handsome, grab a bag. I'm hungry." ~~~~~~~~~~~~

("So, you've been roommates for three years?" Lup asked, picking her nails while she and Kravitz were alone in the elevator.

"Yeah, since freshman year." Kravitz nodded. "We've found that we get on surprisingly well."

"Clearly- I shared a room with my brother for eighteen years, and it's not easy," She nodded in agreement. "You gotta really love Taako to willingly put up with that kind of bullshit twenty-four sev."

Kravitz shrugged. "I mean, don't tell him I said this, but- he's Taako. He's worth a little bullshit every now and then."

"Huh," She broke out into a wild smile. "I think I like you, bones."

"You're not half bad yourself." He grinned, holding the door out of the residence for her. "We should hurry- a hangry Taako is not a fun Taako to be around.") ~~~~~~~~~~~~

("And how long have you been- y'know?" Barry asked, looking up through the rearview mirror of his car.

"Well, we started living together three years ago, but we didn't really start hitting it off until about six months after that," Kravitz offered, looking to Taako.

"He just needed time to warm up to the 'Taako-Kondo' organization method." Taako added.

"Dumping your things on the floor is not an organization method," Kravitz elbowed him with a smile.

"It is! I have a dirty pile, I have a clean pile, I have a school work I'm going to maybe finish pile, I have a school work I'm not going to finish pile-"

"Taako," Kravitz sighed in exasperation. "When we get back to campus, I am going to buy you a planner. There is no reason to not finish your school work."

"Uh, ch'yeah there is! I don't feel like it?"

"God," Lup groaned from the front seat, "You two bicker like an old married couple. Thank god we live five hours away, Bear- can you imagine lunch dates every week?"

"Forget how Barry feels," Taako leaned forwards to shove his head into her sightline. "If I had to go on a double date with you nasties every week, I'd lose my mind.")

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, what'd you think?" Taako asked, waving as Barry finally drove off. The sun had set, meaning that the two wouldn't be home until early morning. Taako had suggested that they stay the night in the dorms and head back in the morning, but Lup had adamantly refused. Said that Taako and Kravitz needed to catch up, and Kravitz would be lying if he said he wasn't a little relieved to have some one-on-one time with his best-friend.

"They're pretty great," Kravitz smiled. "I can see what you mean about Barry being a nerd, but I have to disagree with you calling Lup a tornado. She seems pretty cool."

"It's only the first day, handsome," Taako reminded him, linking their arms and heading towards their dorm. "She has plenty of time to prove herself as a walking disaster to you."

"I guess time will tell- she's got my number," He shrugged. "Hey, what did you mean earlier? When you told me to play along?"

"Oh," Taako dropped their linked arms as they stepped into the elevator. "Uh, about that- listen, I don't exactly know how they got to this conclusion, but Barry and Lup? Uh, they think we've been dating for a couple years. And, uh, I didn't know how to break the news? Because Lu seemed really excited? Something about you 'being the reason I haven't come home for a while', or whatever. I don't know."

Oh. Oh.

"Lup and I have been discussing for a while what kind of person could possibly keep Taako entertained for anything longer than a week."

"You gotta really love Taako to willingly put up with that kind of bullshit twenty-four sev."

"And how long have you been- y'know?"

"You two bicker like an old married couple. Thank god we live five hours away, Bear- can you imagine lunch dates every week?"

"If I had to go on a double date with you nasties every week, I'd lose my mind."

"Taako- oh my god." Kravitz gripped his roommate's sleeve.

"Did you- did you not realize?" Taako looked at him in surprise. "I thought those heart eyes were just for them. Did you really miss me that much?"

"This conversation is tabled." Kravitz flushed, shoving his still cool hands into his pockets. "Oh my god."

"No, let's talk more about how much you missed me, and why you looked like all you wanted to do was kiss me-"

"Tabled, Taako!"

"If it helps, I think you're really cute?"

Kravitz groaned. "I want to die, this is the worst night of my life."

"Well, I have an unlimited olive garden pass," Taako shrugged. "We could go make it better, if you wanted."

"Fine," Kravitz said, eyes still firmly on the elevator door in front of him and not on the blonde man that had just reached into his pocket to hold his hand. "But I'm getting a blue Hawaiian, and if you want any, you'll have to get your own."

"Babe, are you sure you'll even notice me drinking from it?" Taako teased.

Kravitz groaned again, and Taako laughed. "Kidding. Come on, let's get changed and then head out. Ch'boy's feelin' unlimited breadsticks."

#TAZNC #The Adventure Zone #fanfic #taakitz #fake dating #wintertime fic #ao3 #the_fanfic_train #long post

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carrietrekkie · 5 years

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The joy and burden of a Captain.

Back on the Enterprise a lot of work awaits Captain Pike and in a quiet moment some heavy thoughts came to his mind leading to a decision long awaits.

So, some last foreplay before I tortured you all enough. I always wonder what Captains do beside being, well Captains, The boring stuff, if you want so.

I hope you enjoy it and leave me a little fb, if you don´t mind. ;)

@bold-brave-courageous @allthetrek @reeselivesforeverinmyheart

"Good morning Captain Pike." Chris struggled to keep his eyes as awake as expected before stepping out the door of his quarters. "Connor, good morning." He nodded to his young Yeoman, who unfortunately took this as a sign to get started right away. "I'm sorry, I know I'm early." From somewhere he conjured a coffee mug out and Pike could just pull himself together, not look too excited. In the end this was getting a habit.

"Thanks." He took a long sip, then nodded that he could go on. "Well, I'm all ears." "After an appeal on the bridge, you are expected at various stations throughout the ship." Connor handed him a PADD. "I've scheduled about forty-five minutes per department, Chief Louvier and Dr. Boyd have been given an hour, further provided inspections of the shuttle hangar and the storerooms." Pike gave a noisy breath, but Connor either didn´t hear it or ignored it. "After the break, you have several conversations with crew members, interrupted by one or the other request from other captains and the high command." Even as he flew over the endless list, he could see that the Yeoman had forgotten something. "Connor did you think about that I have to sleep?" He looked at him. "Or eat, apart from other vital functions." "Sorry Sir, that's already the slimmed-down version." Connor called the turbolift and grinned at him. "And that works only if nothing unexpected comes in between." "Great." He had known it had been a mistake to ask him to do the paperwork before arriving on Earth, but he had not expected that. They entered the elevator. "Bridge." Pike took another sip. "Is there anything new about Discovery?"

"They have safely reached the volcan and your recommendation to the High Command has been received." "Keep me up to date." "Yes Sir." Connor tapped something in another tray. "Number One awaits you in the ready room." "Right." He had forgotten that, or rather repressed it. "Thanks Connor." "Sir." They left the turbolift. "Captain on the bridge!" "Keep going." Pike gave a smile. "Good morning together." "Good morning Sir."

Instead of the command chair, he headed straight for the ready room and would have liked to turn back on the threshold.

"Don´t even think about it." Una waved him over. "If you don´t fight back, it didn´t take five minutes." "Cannot you do that for me?" He dropped into his desk chair. "I have not had breakfast yet." "Nice try." She pointed to the conference table, there was a small breakfast and reluctantly he got up and grabbed something from the tray. "All right." He leaned against the table. "I am listening."

"The guests have all agreed, all in all there are just over 500 guests." "That's a joke?" He raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid not. One-third of our crew changes and I couldn´t cancel the command level. " "Not?" He began peeling an orange. "Not me." She smiled widely. "We had agreed on steak and fish, that’s an okay, the desserts I could narrow down to three, the fireworks arranged, I just need your music selection." Before he could say anything, she built herself up in front of him, with a piece of cloth in each hand. "What's now?"

"Blue or gray?" She looked at her hand. "Actually it's anthracite but you know what I mean." "If I knew what you meant, I would do it myself." "The gray is more restrained, but the blue fits better with the gala uniforms." "Blue." He picked up the gray pattern. "Honestly, that looks sad." "Was the election of Captain Esposito last month." Una wrinkled her nose as well. "But what he thought." "Thanks Una." "No cause." She packed again. "Eat 'em up, you have to leave immediately." He followed her advice, then grabbed his PADD and started walking.

*****

Four hours later, he wondered if he had lost his mind completely. As if he hadn´t had enough to do, crewmembers had been constantly talking to him. At some point after Louvier's lecture, his brain had disengaged and now he was doing his best at least as if he could follow Boyd.

"Oh yes, the plague broke out in the engine room, but don´t worry, we'll just open the airlock, then the problem will resolve itself." "Mmh?" Chris looked up. "I beg your pardon?" "Since when you have not been paying attention?" Phil Boyd grinned at him. "Um." He straightened and rubbed his face. "You were talking about a pregnancy, Lieutenant Fraser?" "Yeah, about thirty minutes ago." The doctor's eyes narrowed. "Chris, I don´t think that was a good idea to squeeze the paperwork of two months in two days."

"If I don´t do it now, it keeps building up and it will not get any less." "Good if you want it that way." He stood up. "The crew is healthy, fertile and a bit over the top. It really doesn´t get any shorter. " "Very nice, I can live with that." Chris also got up. "Then I will try now." He looked at his PADD. "Wow, the twenty minute break Connor allows me, to make good use of." "This is called break, you will do nothing except eat and take a few minutes rest." "Of course, rest. There's no end here. " "There shouldn´t be much going on the recreational deck." Boyd was just waving someone over. "Alright, it cannot get any worse." As fast as he could, he left the infirmary, took the turbolift, and found himself on the extremely quiet deck a few seconds later. He stopped and took a deep breath, then slowly started walking. "Oh God."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw something blue pass by and he pushed himself against the wall. He didn´t manage another conversation now. Carefully, he squinted for the ledge behind which he was hiding, but the corridor was empty. Just as he wanted to move on, someone came around the corner. Immediately he relaxed when he saw who was buzzing around here.

Cathrin looked at the PADD that she held in her hand. She wore a blue uniform dress, her hair tied in a high ponytail, and she was just beginning to play with a strand in it. He had never seen her in one of these dresses, he thought it looked adorable on her. He had missed her since they left Discovery, he hadn´t seen her since that. Dr. Boyd had told him that she was getting along and it was even more frustrating that his chief physician had told him that.

He reproached himself for letting her hang in the air, after all, it was him who had asked her to come with him. A profoundly selfish request, as he had to admit, but the thought of leaving her on Discovery, without even knowing when and if he would see her again, had not let him sleep, and almost made him wish that Enterprise would blow a few more fuses. Cathrin looked up and he stepped back briefly, then he looked around the corner and followed her as she walked on, looking around, that she really missed nothing. It was quiet and he adjusted the pace of her footsteps, letting his mind wander for a moment, and they walked back to the evening when his life was almost over. He remembered standing in his dark quarters, feeling the walls crushing him and the silence swallowing him. Tired, he had slumped on the couch and apparently fell asleep, because when it rang he drove up. The nap had not helped, he was not feeling better. His hands shook, he was cold, and he felt as distracted as he had not felt in a long time. He wondered who might want something from him, he had requested that he shouldn´t be disturbed until Burnham and her team got the shuttle and suit ready.

There was a soft knock on the door, so it was clear to him who it had to be. This little gesture allowed only one conclusion. He got up, took a deep breath, then walked to the door. A movement of his hand opened it and there she stood.

"Cathrin." "Can I come in?" She had her hands in front of each other, hopefully she looked at him. Even if he had intended to dismiss her, at least now it would have been over with this purpose. He invited her in, the doors closed behind her and they were alone. "That was not very nice." She smiled at him, but there was a certain melancholy that he didn´t know in her eyes. "I'm sorry." He just let her down when he came back from Boreth. He had been surprised that she had even been waiting for him, but he had hardly noticed her.

"What happened down there Chris?" "Cathrin, I appreciate what you are trying to do here." He hesitated for a moment, then put his hands on her shoulders, even through her uniform he could feel the warmth that emanated from her. "But I cannot talk about it. I cannot." But how would he have liked to, shared these thoughts with someone before they completely pulled him into the abyss. "Then I'll talk." She lifted her head a bit. "I think I know what you saw. You saw what I told you."

Pike swallowed lightly, of course, he could have figured that out himself, she was the only one who could understand it in any way. He slid his hands down her arms and closed his hands around hers. "But I think I never saw it the way you did down there."

Her gentle voice echoed in his ears, breaking through the barriers he hoped would protect him. Cathrin's thumb stroked the back of his hand. "I can only guess how you experienced it, but I think the crystal showed you your future." Chris closed his eyes as she continued. "He showed you how to land where I saw you, and as I know you, you don´t intend to counter this fate." "I cannot." Now he looked at her again, trying to sort of save his composure somehow. "When I took the crystal, I sealed my fate with it. My life given for all in the universe. I have accepted this fate and I will endure it. " A tear ran down her cheek and when she blinked, he felt like he couldn´t bare it anymore. How all that had happened in the last hours took its toll. He began to tremble, felt his throat tighten and began to breathe hectically. "Oh hey, breathe quietly."

Chris stumbled on Cathrin, she released his hands and wrapped her arms around him, but she didn´t have the strength to hold him, she dropped to her knees as he tore her down with him. The tears that he had been able to hold back, now found the way out of his eyes, he felt it as a release, as if they were taking something that he couldn´t pronounce. Her hand stroked the back of his head, the other held him tight and prevented him from collapsing. "You don´t have to do this alone." Cathrin had her cheek against his head. She herself had always been just a spectator, but he had had to experience his future, had immediately realized the implications of his decision, and yet he would meet them again and again. He couldn´t help it, because this was him, these were the things that made him.

"That will not happen tomorrow. It will take a decade, maybe longer. "He raised his head and looked at her. Chris admired her for always having hope, even after all she had experienced. Again Cathrin looked at him with that look he had been able to die for since the first second. "Come on."

She somehow got to her feet, grabbed his hand and helped him up off the floor. Carefully she pushed him into his bedroom and put him on his bed. "You need to rest a little. It'll be hours before the suit is ready. " Then she raised her hand and stroked his hair, he closed his eyes, he would remember this and the following forever.

"You can make those years your best." "And yet, my time is limited." He saw her look up, a feeble attempt to stop herself from crying, an unsuccessful one at that. As she blinked, tears ran down her cheeks. He didn´t want her to cry, especially not because of him. That was more than he could bear now. "Mine too." She sat down next to him and took his hand. "Everyone has limited time here, that's what life is about and the future is not set in stone."

"This one is." Chris looked up from their hands at her face. There was so much confidence in her eyes, so much hope, and he saw the future he could have had, but how could he have that expected from her? Where he still knew where it would lead inevitably. "Sleep Chris." She pushed him cautiously into his pillow, then she stood up and covered him. Just when he would ask her not to leave, he noticed his bed moving and shortly thereafter he felt her arms around him and her cuddled against his back. He took a deep breath, then put his hands around her forearm. "Thank you Cathrin."

Her answer was a kiss she breathed on the back of his neck, so softly that he didn´t know if he had just imagined it. But her lips on his skin, even for those few seconds, gave him more strength than he ever thought to be possible, and then he realized he couldn´t leave her behind.

She was still there when he was awakened by the alarm from the bridge. She had covered herself with his jacket, lying next to him, her hand on his arm. Since that moment he had known. He had felt it so often but when he saw her that way, he knew it. He needed her on his side. And so he had asked her shortly after that to leave the Discovery. He asked her to leave behind all her friends, everyone she knew, and he remembered just how big the fear was that she could say no and the seconds until she finally agreed seemed endless. Now she was here, strolling contentedly through the Enterprise corridors, once again making it clear to him that he finally had to make the first step.

#star trek discovery #star trek discovery fan fiction #star trek discovery oc #chris pike #chris pike x reader #christopher pike x reader #captain pike x reader #captain pike x oc #pike x oc #chris pike x oc #captain christopher pike #captain chris pike #writeblr #cathrin zimmer #captain pike fan fiction

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sippin-on-red-wine · 6 years

Text

High Tide | Chapter 8: London

Title: High Tide, Chapter 8 | London Author: @sippin-on-red-wine Rating: No smut in this chapter, again, sorry! Characters: Ed Sheeran x Kendra (original female character) Word Count: 2,293

Kendra……

He’s not over her.

It was time to go home.

The realization was stark, black and white. And I had been here before. This crossroads. Leaving my old life behind, blessed with the means to be able to do so. It had been the best decision I could have made for myself, though I still carried some guilt around it.

It was an anxious, eerie kind of calm. My entire body was buzzing, but I somehow felt in control, cool and collected. I flitted about the penthouse gathering up my few personal belongings and stacked them neatly inside one of the paper bags that the concierge had brought me. I sat down at the dining table with my cell phone and began looking for flights home.

Should I talk to Ed? Say goodbye? I don’t think I could see him in person, but I could call. Or text. Yeah, maybe text. The hell am I going to say? Maybe I should just wait. Call him when I get home.

I went to the British Airlines website, since that was the line I came in on. I quickly navigated their little digital schedule, finding a flight to NYC that was leaving in about four hours. Okay, no problem, I can get a connecting flight from there. Or drive. How far is it? Six hours or so?

I added the flight to NYC and began the checkout process, the website asking for my personal information. I furiously tapped out my name, birth date, and address when it hit me:

I don’t have my passport.

It’s at Ed’s.

I paced around the suite, hand clutching at my forehead in the most cliche way possible. What do I do?

Options: Go get it yourself Call Lauren and ask her to bring it. Ha, like Ed would let her do that alone. Call and talk things over with Ed Why do all of these options include talking to or seeing Ed?

US Embassy it is.

All jokes aside, a funny thought began to creep into my head. My gut instinct was to run; but now, I couldn't. Not without facing him first. I'd just about hopped directly on a plane back home, but that was all out the window now.

What a cruel trick of fate.

I just wasn’t ready to speak to him. But that didn't mean I should never speak to him again. The thought of never seeing him throw his head back in laughter, or feeling his fingers lace up between mine… it was crushing.

I must have paced for a solid 30 minutes, debating back and forth with myself, before I came to a conclusion.

I’m going to stay. For now. I need some time.

Ed……

I woke on the living room sofa, morning light filtering in through the large panes of glass that lined the walls. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and reached forward to grab my glasses off of the coffee table. Everything came into focus; Lauren was sleeping on the adjacent couch. I guess she didn't want me to be alone.

I didn't want to wake her, it was because of me that she hadn't gone to sleep til nearly 4 in the morning. I slipped off the sofa and padded quietly upstairs to my bedroom, wanting to brush my teeth and have a scalding hot shower. The water won't wash the shame away, you prat.

My heart sunk impossibly lower as I came 'round the corner and saw Kendra's suitcase and bags leaning up against the wall. Not more than 24 hours ago, I had happily carried all of her things up here, at her request. “I cannot sleep on a couch again tonight, Ed, you're being silly.”

I'm sure she had to have felt a bit weird about staying here, the home I had shared with another woman. But she trusted me.

My fingers twitched, and I suddenly was craving a drink. Your coping mechanism.

No. You can’t do that again. What would she think?

I reached in my pocket, pulling out my phone. I checked, foolishly, to see if Kendra had tried to call or text me. Wishful thinking.

I didn’t want to fall into another spiral, or pity party. Booze had always been a coping method for me, but I just didn’t want to go there, not again. And so I opted for the next best thing -- work.

I tapped out Stu’s number and hit Call.

Kendra……

As it turns out, if you’re confused and upset and a bit melancholy, London is the place for you. It’s supportive, playing up that ‘melancholy’ bit with its eternal gray skies and foggy rain. But it’s wonderfully distracting, too. So much art and history and architecture and FOOD.

My tactic was simple: shoot for the least amount of downtime possible. And so, I established a routine. I’d wake, dress in a basic, cozy outfit, and head out the door. I stopped in a little corner cafe that was on the next block over, and grab coffee and a pastry to go. I jam-packed my days, moving from one thing to the next. I shopped, and rode a triple-decker tour bus, and spent hours wandering through museums. I walked through neighborhoods, explored markets, snapped photos of parks and buildings and cars and pedestrians. I’d tuck in to a pub for a comfort food meal, and then head back to my suite.

After the first couple of days, Ed had stopped calling and texting incessantly. He called once, each day, now. He always left a voice message… but I couldn’t bring myself to listen to any of them.

I knew that he was sorry, damn it, I just wish he hadn’t done anything to be sorry about. I was angry; angry with myself for letting my guard down in the first place… angry with Ed for putting a big asterisk on our time together. Would I ever be able to see him the same way again?

I had a lot of questions, and no answers. In a true-to-Kendra way, I was living in full-on denial land. Running from this place to the next, telling myself I was “exploring the city”, when in reality, I was just trying to tire my brain out enough to shut Ed out of it. I would have to see or speak with him eventually, it’s not like I could go home without my passport. He probably didn’t even realize he had it.

I was scared shitless; that was really what it boiled down to. I hadn’t even known him that long, but there was something about our connection that was just… not of this world. Was it one-sided, all along? Is he still in love with her? Was I just a coping mechanism for him, much like the drink he had favored until the night you found him all strung out after a bender?

Okay, okay - get it together, Kendra. These are not good thoughts to be having while you’re sitting in a pub, eating lunch amongst business men and ladies alike. Where to, next?

I had been itching to have a go at the London Eye, and so I paid my lunch bill and spilled forth onto the busy London sidewalk to hail a cab.

I directed the driver and settled in. The radio caught my ear right away -

*Intro Music*

“We’ve got Ed Sheeran in the studio with us today to talk about his upcoming American tour. Ed, welcome -- great to have you as always, even on short notice!”

“Thanks, pleasure to be here.”

Hearing his voice made my pulse quicken. He’s supposed to be off work til tour -- why is he doing promo all of a sudden?

I clued back in -

“..seems like you’re putting out one hit wedding song after another after another. People call you the King of Romance, d’you know that?”

He chuckled, a nervous kind of laugh. “I’ve heard that being said, yeah.”

“I mean we’ve even got this photo of you, barefoot, holding your lady’s broken shoes leaving a party earlier this year. You gotta cut that out, man, you’re making the rest of us look bad! Nobody compares to the perfect boyfriend Ed Sheeran!”

“Mate, if only it were that easy. I’m just a person, I make mistakes too. I write love songs - yeah, but I’ve also hurt people. People I really care about.”

“Miss?” The cab driver’s voice filled the car, snapping me back to reality. He was pulled over to the curb - we were at the entrance for the Eye. I paid for my ride and climbed out of the cab, Ed’s voice still floating out through the speakers.

I was winded; I hadn’t expected to hear his voice. I plopped down on a little bench seat and pulled out my phone.

*I want to see you, Ed, I really do. I just… I need to know if you’re still in love with her. And I need you to be sure. Please take some time to work it out. Friday, 8 o’ clock. I’m at the Corinthia. I’ll leave your name at the desk.

Friday night had come and I was in shambles. My entire body felt like a blinking neon sign, on-off-on-off, as my veins contracted and expanded with every beat of my petrified heart. Would he come? Had he realized he wasn't really missing anything? Is he still in love with her?

Ping! went the elevator and I thought maybe my stomach had just dropped out of my body. The door opened. And there he was, face hidden behind a thick layer of copper beard, his eyes a dark ocean blue.

He stepped out of the lift, and I opened my mouth to say something. But he didn’t miss a beat.

“It's you, Kenn. It's only you. God, I've never been so sure about anything in my life, I'll spend every damn day proving myself to you.” His voice was strong, his animated hands coming to life. “Just say the word, say it and I'm yours. Actually? Nah, you don't have to. I'm already yours. Whether or not you want me.”

It was exactly what I needed to hear. The doubt melted away as I saw the man before me, steady in his words, white-knuckled as he tried to express how true they were.

“Oh, Ed, of course I want you, I’ve missed you s--”

He takes two steps toward me, his arms a bright slur of colors, my body willing itself toward his. His hands came up to cup my jaw, the pad of his middle finger resting beyond my ear. His lips settle firmly on mine and this kiss is somehow both soft & firm, frenzied yet unhurried, passionate and just purely, simply, sweet.

He breaks away - swallowing down a huge gulp of oxygen. “Kenny, I’m--”

“-- I know, Ed. I know.” and I know my words won’t soothe his worries as well as my lips will and so I take him back into my arms, pressing my lips to his as we both hold onto each other, keeping one another afloat.

I walk him backwards, into the master bedroom, until we reach the bed. He's showering me with kisses, every inch of my skin is a target for his plumped lips. His hands guide me gently until I’m lying in the center of the bed, his mouth on my skin every second of the way. He kicks off his shoes and climbs in.

He’s holding himself over me, caging me in. I reach for the hem of his t-shirt, dragging my fingertips up his back as I move to free his upper body, craving the warmth of his bare skin.

He pauses his oral assault of my neck, just long enough for me to pull the shirt up over his head. My fingers catch on something - what's this? Gauze, a patch of medical gauze taped over his left shoulder blade.

“Teddy -” I questioned. “What is this?”

My question elicits a sigh, he's hesitant to answer. Was he hurt?

He pushes his body weight up, swinging his leg over me, sitting on the edge of the bed. With another sigh, he pulled his tee shirt completely off. The London moonlight filtering in through the glass pane of the window helps confirms my suspicion - it is a patch of gauze, a small vertical rectangle.

He turns a cheek toward me. “Would you like t’see?” He asks, taking a deep breath in, followed by a slow exhale.

I crawl toward him, sitting in an upright position behind where he's perched on the edge of the bed. I tucked my hair behind my ears before carefully peeling away the medical tape

I pull away the gauze, Ed is silent. I drink in the sight before me: vibrant ink, fresh, the surrounding skin still speckled pink from the irritation. It’s a playing card, the Queen of Hearts. All black and red, elaborate design.

“It’s beautiful… what does it mean?” For once, my mouth is one step ahead of my brain. I quickly cover the tattoo up again, patting the tape back in place. My pulse quickens.

He turns toward me. His hand reaches out to my face - out of habit, I think. Muscle memory, even. But his fingers re-route once he realizes my hair is already neatly tucked behind my ear.

“It's for you, Kendra.” His eyelids fluttering as he stares right into my dark eyes. “From that night, at the concert. That night… I knew I loved you.”

“Oh, Ed --” I started, reaching for him.

“You don’t have to say it back, Kenn, that’s not… not why I showed you.”

“I want to. I love you, Teddy. I knew it that night, too.”

Thanks for reading! This is the last you’ll hear from Ed & Kendra, at least for a while.

#ed sheeran #ed sheeran fanfic #ed sheeran fanfiction #ed sheeran smut #celebrity fanfiction

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nadiineross · 7 years

Text

title: cheeks get redder, nothing better

pairing: chloe/nadine

note: this is incomplete but basically fluff bc i didnt know how to end it and if im going to be honest i shouldve went a different way with the bathroom scene and ended it earlier

It’s been a month and a half after that whole tusk debacle and while Sam had stuck around, waiting for them to say the word, he hadn’t gotten in the way much.

Which is to say, he only cockblocked Nadine once. (He also had a boot thrown at him the one time.)

They’re in America now, wallets considerably heavier and treating themselves to a five star hotel.

Obviously, she wanted to catch up with her old friends — mostly she just wanted to brag about all the trinkets she’d found on her latest excursion — so she texted Nate upon landing, telling him to go to her, because it’s safer to keep her load of treasure safe if she didn’t parade it across a city.

It only occurs to Chloe now that she probably should not have given Nate her room number and definitely should not have told him to meet her there.

She’s just realising that none of her friends outside of Sam know about Nadine yet. She also remembers Nadine telling her that she threw Nate out of a window twice. (She’d chuckled at the time, now not so much.)

Nadine’s always prattling on about foresight and she figures she should probably listen more.

“Oh bloody hell,” she mutters under her breath, and as if on cue, the barista plops down two to-go cups on the counter and yells for her.

She scoops up the coffees and promptly drops them back down, hissing. Fingers now properly scalded, she slips cardboard sleeves around the cups before she’s off again.

Thankfully, the Starbucks is right next to her hotel and she has no trouble getting to the elevators.

There’s a bellboy in the elevator, and she flashes him a smile. “Hey, mate, hold my coffee?”

He clears his throat, nods after a beat, and does as told, watching as she digs her keycard out of her pocket to get access to the guest floors.

“Thank you,” she says when he hands the coffee back to her.

She must look a sight; a beaten up Kim Possible who dresses in shades of red and has mismatched socks under a pair of knock-off Nikes. Not exactly the kind of person you’d see running around the lobby of a Hilton.

You can’t blame her. She’d only woken up half an hour ago, sprawled over Nadine, eyes bleary with sleep.

She’d texted Nate again last night and forgotten he was coming over, so she scrambled up to get ready. They’d missed the buffet, so she gave a drowsy Nadine a solid kiss on the mouth and hurried off to Starbucks to buy them breakfast. Speaking of which, she forgot the pastries.

She huffs to herself, mutters a “thanks” to the bellboy, and taps her foot impatiently over the beat of jazzy elevator music.

The frowning bellboy stays on after she rushes off to get to her room. Oh. She winces when she notices the door is left ajar. She jogs the rest of the way and pushes the door open with her shoulder.

There, against the wall by the windows, is a barely waken Nadine Ross and a snarling Nathan Drake. He’s got his arm around her throat and she’s preparing to give him an elbow to the gut.

Nate notices her first, but he can’t get anything out, the wind knocked out of him as Nadine twists and slams him into the wall.

“Chloe,” he gasps, one hand shoving at Nadine’s face. “If you’re free any time today, could you possibly give me a hand?”

That spurs her into motion. She closes the door with an audible slam and stomps her way in. “Hands off my girlfriend, Drake!”

“What?”

Chloe dumps the coffee onto the table with a dull clunk and eyes the window right next to them. Nate would have a rough time getting out of that fall. “Nadine, love.”

There’s a beat. Then, Nadine’s backing off, forearm coming off Nate’s throat and swatting his flailing hand away from her.

“I can’t believe I like his brother more than I do him,” she informs Chloe, ignoring Nate completely.

She’s in a pair of leggings and an Adidas sports bra, hair stuffed in a sloppy ponytail. Chloe has no idea what kind of conclusion Nate came to when he first saw a disheveled Nadine Ross at the doorway.

“Sorry,” she mouths to Nadine, who rolls her eyes and grabs her disgustingly bitter coffee off the desk.

Nate’s eyes are flicking between Nadine and Chloe, hands rubbing at his neck. “Well!” she starts, clapping her hands together. “How’ve you been?”

Behind her, Nadine snorts into her coffee. Chloe ignores her. Nate follows her lead, ignores them both, and gestures wildly. “That—That’s Nadine Ross!”

“Oh.” Chloe puts a hand to her heart and turns to look at Nadine, bent at the waist to pull a shirt from her bags. “Hear that, china? You’re Nadine Ross!”

“Astounding,” Nadine deadpans.

Nate is completely and utterly lost. “You...” Here, he sputters and points an accusing finger at Chloe. “You’re sleeping with the lady who threw me across, like, five different rooms!”

She nods, faux serious, and hums in appreciation when Nadine hands Chloe her coffee. “Yes,” she says, taking a sip. “She’s really strong.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he finally says.

“I’ll give you two some space,” Nadine says, stiffly. She shuffles into the bathroom, leaving the door open.

Chloe sits herself down on the edge of the bed, watching as Nate gapes a little more.

“Oh, c’mon, Nate,” she scoffs after a moment of prolonged silence.

Nate frowns. “She shot at me.”

“You shot at her too.”

“Well,” he says, sniffing. “She started it.”

Chloe gives him a look. “Really?”

Nate sighs, drags a hand down his face, and squints at her. “Okay, but she’s scary.”

“It’s a quality I greatly admire,” she says, grinning. He’ll process this on his own time; she can already tell he’s moving on, because he’s working his jaw and straightening up.

“I have so many questions for you,” he tells her, sitting down beside her.

“Later.” She flops onto her stomach, upper body hanging over the end of the bed, and stretches out to haul her suitcase closer. She unzips it and piles her folded clothes onto one side, revealing a myriad of trinkets she’d collected.

When they’re done here, Chloe’ll probably head back to Australia so she can add it all to her collection at home, but for now, she lets Nate have at it.

She chuckles when he gasps, grabby hands skimming over the edges of the pile, and waves a hand. “Have fun, cowboy.”

As he marvels over it all and takes pictures to send to Elena, she rolls onto her feet and peers into the bathroom.

Nadine’s perched on the edge of the bathtub, typing something on her phone with a plastic toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. She glances up at Chloe when the door clicks shut, but only puts the phone down after a moment.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Chloe jokes, eyes following Nadine to the sink.

“I’m really questioning your taste in company, Frazer,” Nadine says, lightly, after she rinses out her mouth.

Chloe grimaces, letting Nadine cage her against the door. “I forgot to tell him about our,” here, she hesitates, “partnership.”

If this was a month ago, Nadine would’ve ripped Chloe a new one for this stunt. Now, she only tilts her head. “Girlfriend?”

Right. Chloe said that.

She doesn’t have anything outstanding to say, so she pulls her signature move: go head first and hope for the best.

“Yes?” she replies, sweetly.

Nadine snorts, pulling back, but not completely. “We’re fucking.”

The bluntness of it has Chloe wilting in her spot a little, and if Nate wasn’t less than two meters away, she’d probably be trying to start something just to hide her embarrassment and dismay. Instead, she’s forced to handle it like a functioning adult.

She nods and slips her fists into her pockets. “We’re fucking regularly.” A beat. “And spending most of our waking moments together. So.”

“So.” Nadine looks faintly amused and, oh, Chloe wants to thwack her over the head if she could get away with it.

“So, logically,” Chloe says, “that’s dating.”

Nadine grows serious, not stern, the softness is still there, but the humour’s gone. “If there’s a question somewhere, ask it.”

Chloe’s only ever dated when she was in high school. Sure, there were a couple between then and now, take Nate for example, but they’d always asked her first. It’s a little jarring being on the other end. She’s faced armies and imminent death by bomb, and asking a girl out can’t be that hard, so she sucks it up.

There’s a moment she uses to gather her courage. She thinks about Nate, about when she’d asked him to run away with her so many years ago and the knot of nervousness at the base of her chest when she did.

“Nadine Ross,” she says, pulling Nadine closer. The warmth of her body quells the rolling in her chest. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Nadine, who Chloe had kept waiting again, surges forward to kiss her, impatient. In her haste, she bumps their teeth together, but Chloe reckons this is the best fucking kiss she’s ever had.

“So that’s a yes?” Chloe asks, into her mouth.

There’s a sharp inhale. Nadine let’s it out with a breathy laugh. “That’s a yes.”

Chloe beams. She’s about to say something more, a teasing quip to lighten the mood just a tad more, but there’s a hesitant knock on the door before she can say anything.

“Uh, guys,” comes Nate, awkward, “I really hope you’re not...”

Nadine looks like she’s going to have an aneurism, so Chloe kisses her again, chaste this time.

Then, she turns and pulls the door open a crack to glare at Nate. “What?”

Chloe mourns the warmth when Nadine pulls back. She opens the door fully and raises an eyebrow at Nate. He glances at Nadine, shifts his weight, and wiggles his phone. “Elena said she managed to get out of filming and wants to meet for lunch.”

“Oh,” Chloe says. She looks over her shoulder to an impassive Nadine. “You coming?”

“No. I’ve got some business to attend to.”

Usually, Chloe’d push, but she figures Nadine wouldn’t have much to say and would be bored out of her mind, besides, they’ve only been going steady for about three minutes.

Relieved, Nate jerks a thumb at the door. “I’ll wait outside.”

#chlodine #nadine ross #chlodinefics #chloe x nadine #chloe frazer #chlodine fic #uncharted fic #lost legacy #the title is garbage but oh well!!!!!!!!

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thehikingviking · 3 years

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Boundary Peak & Montgomery Peak from Queen Canyon Trailhead

Memorial Weekend was approaching and I wanted to plan a family trip up a noteworthy peak. Believe it or not, I actually caught Asaka perusing Peakbagger one night. She was looking at state high points. She already has climbed the high points of California, Hawaii, Oregon and Washington (in addition to the high points of Mexico and Japan), so it made perfect sense to climb the high point of Nevada next. I had put off this peak for no good reason, so now I finally had enough motivation to write this one down on my official calendar. Also in the nearby vicinity of Boundary Peak is Montgomery Peak, which I needed to climb as well. I studied the distance, elevation gain and difficulty of the two peaks and came to the conclusion that I would be able to carry the baby to the summit of Boundary Peak, but it would not be prudent to continue to Montgomery Peak with the baby. Since Asaka was mostly interested in the Nevada high point, we agreed that I could leave the baby with her on Boundary Peak, and she could get a head start and carry Leif down the mountain without me. The second major challenge was how to manage the long drive. Our solution was to break it up in segments. We planned to lay over one night at my family cabin in Sonora. Our second night we planned to stay at Benton Hot Springs, stopping along the way for lunch and a short hike. Our third night we planned to camp near the trailhead at Queen Canyon Mine after doing a few short hikes in the greater Benton area. For the sake of completion, I will include a short summary of these small side hikes in my trip report.

I sent out some feelers to some prospects that I guessed would be interested. Brett Marciasini, Scott King and Sean King took the bait. I then extended the invite to some of my non-hiking friends Brian and Zach. I refer to them as my non-hiking friends not because they don’t hike, but because our friendships started from working at Texas Instruments at one point in time. They have been projects that I have been sculpting over time in the effort to develop new hiking partners. This would be a good test for both of them, as I planned a hybrid dirt bag weekend. While I usually take care of most of the specifics with regards to preparation, this time I felt they were ready to take on more responsibility, such as managing their own food, lodging and transportation. This new freedom would allow me to focus more on my wife and baby.

After our first night in the cabin, we drove over Sonora Pass and then down Highway 395 to the Mobile Mart where we had lunch. There was an easy peak called Sagehen Peak referenced in Andy Zdon’s book “Desert Summits” that I wanted to climb. Good dirt roads took us to the Sagehen Saddle, located less than a half mile from the summit. We possibly could have driven up to the summit, but we were all a little restless from riding in the car and we wanted to get some fresh air. After a short walk up the sandy road, we found a rocky outcropping that required a short, easy scramble. It was easy enough for me to climb with the baby in my arms.

Off towards the east were Boundary Peak, Montgomery Peak and Mt Dubois. A late season storm struck the Whites a week prior, and there was a little more snow that I anticipated.

To the north was Mono Lake.

It was a nice little peak, and we rested awhile on top, but there was a slightly higher summit called Crooked Benchmark to our west. We started back down the road so I could get started on the bonus peak.

A twister swirled through the forest on this calm and sunny day.

Zach decided to join me for Crooked Benchmark while the others waited at the car. I didn’t even bother putting on my hiking shoes expecting an easy walk up, but we soon found ourselves bushwhacking through willows. Zach decided early on that this was not fun, and smartly made the decision to turn around. My obsessive compulsiveness had me push forward, but it was rather unpleasant. I kept thinking that the brush would abate, but it remained consistent almost all the way to the top. I found a register at the summit and I had a good view of the Sierra Nevada.

I didn’t want to retrace my steps back down to the car. I walked to the ridge and yelled down at the others to pick me up on the south side of the summit. I don't think they were able to understand me. I also sent a GPS pin to Brian, but received no response so was unsure if he got it. The southern slopes were much easier. I dealt with some sage brush scratching my shins, but this was a minor inconvenience. I walked out the road, and I eventually found the others parked where I left the pin. We then drove to Benton Hot Springs where I checked in for the evening. We barbecued on Zach’s grill and drank some beer.

I felt a little awkward since Zach and Brian would be left on their own to camp in the desert while Asaka, Leif and I had reservations at the historic inn. I booked the last available room and there was simply no other option. I drove them to a flat tract of BLM land and apologized. Zach responded by stating something along the lines of, “Are you kidding me? This area is incredibly beautiful and we are happy to stay here.”

It was beautiful as dusk descended upon the snow covered Boundary Peak and Montgomery Peak above. I no longer felt guilty. Leif was sleeping when I returned, so Asaka and I snuck out to enjoy the hot springs.

Montgomery Peak was visible from our tub.

The next morning we regrouped at Benton Hot Springs and awaited the arrival of Brett and the Kings. After a round of introductions, we followed Yellow Jacket Road south through the Benton Paiute Reservation. I turned left on a 4WD road I spotted from satellite view and the topo map. We planned to hike from here, but I decided to see how far I could drive. Scott was a little less zealous about driving up the road than I was, so he and Sean piled into Brett’s truck and they followed me. With a great deal of patience, we made it almost the whole way up the peak. We parked at a mine in between Blind Spring Hill and Diane Peak.

It took us all but five minutes to reach the to of Blind Spring Hill.

To the southwest was the Sierra Nevada.

To the west was Glass Mountain Ridge.

To the east were Montgomery Peak and Mt Dubois.

To the southeast was White Mountain.

While the peak was “just okay”, the summit register contents were a treat. Scraps went back to 1966.

The refurbished book was a standard Gordon Macleod and Barbara Lilley register, which is almost a standard for all the arcane desert peaks throughout the southwest.

One of the early signatures was from Andy Zdon, the author of “Desert Summits”. If was solely because of his book that I decided to climb this peak in the first place.

In addition to Blind Spring Hill, there are six other named summits in close proximity along this ridge. These little peaklets were most likely named because of mining claims, and are hardly peaks at all. Since we had a full day ahead of us, we decided to only climb Diana Peak as a bonus peak, as this was less than a quarter mile from our car.

The little bump was not much of a peak, but allowed us to pad the stats.

We walked back down to the car and drove back to Benton. We were ahead of schedule so we decided to visit Trafton Mountain and Antelope Mountain just north of town. I led the way with my Jeep, but unknowingly made a big navigational error. There is a very good 2WD road that follows a powerline that crosses over the saddle between Trafton Mountain and Antelope mountain, but I somehow missed it. Instead, I led the group up a rarely driven 4WD road. It was incredibly rough and sketchy in parts. At one point we had to get out of our vehicles to move a fallen tree.

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I was relieved to finally reach the better powerline road, but I was a little ashamed. We wasted a lot of time and mental energy dealing with that section of road. Asaka and Leif decided to skip Trafton Mountain and instead ate some lunch. We left them in the shade and started hiking towards the peak.

We hiked southwest up sandy and rocky slopes. It was a little too warm for my liking. Brian ran into a little issue when he kicked a cactus with his finger shoes. It took us about an hour to reach the summit.

We were again blessed with another Zdon signature in the register.

One the way down we found the remains of a deer.

Brett had a go at it, ripping the head clean from the still attached leg.

Brian was a little surprised to see us admire the carcass with such enthusiasm. I told him that dismantling dead animals is what white people do for fun.

We found sandy slopes on the way down. In the end it was a 2.6 mile outing.

Once reunited with Asaka and Leif, we got back in the car and followed a spur road all the way to the summit of Antelope Mountain. There were several structures on the summit. To the west was the salt flat called Antelope Lake.

To the south was Trafton Mountain.

I was mostly satisfied after 3 summits from Andy Zdon’s book. We drove back to the freeway following the good road this time. The difference was night and day. After filling up gas in Benton, we drove into Nevada, then took a right on Queen Mine Road. We spotted a Mustang in the canyon below Mustang Peak.

We stopped at Queen Mine where we decided to spend the night. We considered camping at the Queen Mine Trailhead, but settled on this location because it offered wind protection. Also, it was a really cool spot.

We spent the next few hours grilling Brett’s self-killed Bison, drinking beer and listening to music by the campfire. Sean and I thought about heading up Mustang Mountain, but in the end I decided against it, feeling a little worn out from earlier.

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The next morning we drove the remaining mile up the road to the Queen Mine Trailhead. My Jeep and Scott's 4Runner had no problems with the road.

I told everyone not to wait for me, since I would be slow carrying the baby. Asaka picked up Leif and then left me! That message wasn’t meant for them.

I organized some last minute things then started off at 6:45am.

The trailhead is at 9,800 feet, which is pretty high. I spent the first mile or so focusing on breathing. Asaka thankfully waited for me and we hiked in unison.

It felt like a Martian landscape with the moon setting above the desolate terrain.

There was a really good trail climbing up the ridge. A lone deer watched me as I slowly lugged my payload uphill.

Even with my extra weight, I passed Brian early on. I hoped that this hike wasn’t too much for him. After a mile, Boundary Peak came into view.

T'was a lovely family day.

The trail stayed flat for 1.7 miles until Trail Canyon Saddle. Brett, Zach and the Kings were already way ahead of us and out of sight.

To my pleasant surprised, we ran into a herd of mustangs.

I think one of them was pregnant. There were several foals among the herd.

Brian paused for a while to photograph the ungulates.

We stopped for Leif’s breakfast along this flat portion. Maintaining his schedule is very important, even if it means falling further behind the group. He ate his blueberry oatmeal and banana without a care in the world. I was concerned since Brian hadn’t caught up to us by the time Leif finished his breakfast, but my priority was with my family. We continued all the way to Trail Canyon Saddle.

The fun part was now over for me. From here on out, I had to put in the work. The route continued steeply from here on out, but this was made easier since the trail remained underfoot. I finally spotted Brian down below and by all indications he was continuing. Across the saddle was Trail Canyon Saddle Peak. I hoped to tag this bonus peak on my return.

The false summit of Hosebag Peak was a little deceptive. It would have been worse if I didn’t expect. It was a little demoralizing to know that I still had to climb 1,000 feet from here, but it was still early and I was making good time.

Love.

The trail stays atop the ridge. The snow caused no impediment.

The ridgeline became more serrated and the trail eventually petered out. There are class 2 ways up from here, but if one is not paying attention, they can easily find themselves on class 3.

I could spot Sean and Zach on the summit from below.

Asaka chose a lower route while I stayed closer to the top of the ridge. I felt like we were going slow, but then I spotted Brett and Scott not so far ahead of us.

A light trail reemerged higher up the mountain. I worried that Sean and Zach were waiting too long for me on top. I worried that Brian wouldn’t make the summit.

I had to cross some soft snow as I neared the top, but this was not a challenge. Montgomery Peak finally came into view beyond.

We reached the summit at 10:45am, four hours after we started out.

I unloaded the baby, inadvertently waking him in the process. Hey bud, welcome to the high point of Nevada.

Sean had been waiting on the summit for over an hour. He beat Zach by 20 minutes. Brett and Scott were only about 10 minutes ahead of Asaka and me. Brian was still nowhere to be found. I texted Brian and told him that he had a 1pm turn around time, and I told Scott to tell Brian to turn around if he had not made the summit by that time. I relieved myself of baby carrying duties and let Asaka take care of the rest. Brett, Sean, Zach and I turned our focus to Montgomery Peak. We dropped off the mountain and hiked towards the saddle where we crossed the California and Nevada border.

We had read a diverse set of claims from various trip reports and weren’t quite sure what to expect. In the end, the traverse was mostly class 2 with some easy class 3 and a few sections of loose rock.

We hiked mostly on top of the ridge, but in the places where the ridge became sharp, we stayed underneath the left side. The route finding was very easy and well placed cairns but and end to any doubts.

A lone climber passed us on the final stretch. Once on the summit we introduced ourselves and I learned that he went to my same climbing gym in San Jose. To the north were Mt Dubois and White Mountain.

To the southwest were Benton Point and the Sierra Nevada.

Way below us to the northwest were the diminutive Trafton Mountain and Antelope Mountain. Beyond that were the high peaks of Yosemite and a sliver of Mono Lake.

Way off to the north were Mt Grant and Walker Lake.

To the northeast were the Volcanic Hills and desert wasteland.

To the east ran Middle Creek Canyon.

The conditions couldn’t have been better. On our return, we decided to pick a route staying along the top of the ridge. Brett, who was a little nervous of the ridge traverse at first, mastered this knife edge section and proved to all that he is a master scrambler.

-Middle Creek

Our remaining group was gone by the time we reached Boundary Peak.

We took only a short break here before descending back down. Brett and I stopped to bag Hosebag Peak, which stood just a few minutes off the trail. Sean already did this on the way up, and he had his eyes set on the bonus peak Mustang Mountain on the other side of Queen Canyon Saddle. Zach didn't seem to care about any more bonus peaks and simply continued down.

From Hosebag Peak, we followed the trail down to Trail Canyon Saddle.

Brett and I then marched up barren slopes to the summit of our last bonus peak for the day.

The views from the summit were sublime.

From the summit, we continued down the ridgeline until we naturally intersected the trail.

I left Brett somewhere along this off trail section and began a powerwalk once I reached the trail.

I soon caught up to Brain. I was thrilled to learn that he made the summit before his turn around time. He seemed to be having a great day.

I was surprised to catch Zach next. He was seriously feeling the altitude. I bade him farewell and continued ahead. Asaka and Scott just barely beat me back to the car. I was happy to see my wife and baby happy and in one piece. Apparently Leif spotted a herd of deer and pointed them out to the previously unaware Asaka and Scott.

Brian finished the hike at the same time that Sean came back from Mustang Peak, so timing was perfect. After some hydrating, we all hopped back in the cars and drove back out to Highway 6.

Once on pavement, we said goodbye to the Kings who had High Sierra plans later in the week. The rest drove back to Lee Vining for dinner. Asaka was tired and the baby was fussy, but things got better once we all got some dinner inside of our bellies.

After dinner, we found a dirtbag spot just outside of Bridgeport where we spent the night. We planned to climb South Sister in the Sweetwaters the following day before driving back home to the Bay Area.

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beforethebridge · 4 years

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My Favorite Tracks of 2019

I had so much fun building this list and pouring over the mountain of great music I listened to this year. Every track on this list stunned, jazzed, or moved me in some type of way. I wrote a bit about each of my top 10 tracks below, and all 25 (+1!) are in the playlist linked above. And before you point out it’s glaring absence, Lizzo’s “Juice” was #26 😄.

25. Matt Berninger & Phoebe Bridgers – “Walking on a String”

24. Frank Ocean – “In My Room”

23. Anderson .Paak feat. Smokey Robinson – “Make it Better”

22. Mark Ronson feat. Angel Olsen – “True Blue”

21. Tyler, The Creator – “EARFQUAKE”

20. James Blake – “Don’t Miss It”

19. Lana Del Rey – “the greatest”

18. Carly Rae Jepsen – “Too Much”

17. Beck – “Uneventful Days”

16. FKA twigs – “sad day”

15. Brittany Howard – “Stay High”

14. Kevin Abstract – “Georgia”

13. Angel Olsen – “All Mirrors”

12. Bon Iver – “Hey, Ma”

11. Mannequin Pussy – “Who You Are”

10. Floating Points – “Last Bloom”

The hi-hat flourishes and stuttery triangle of “Last Bloom” are infectious. There’s enough blooming and evolving across this track’s near-6 minutes to carry a dancefloor to a euphoric release.

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9. (Sandy) Alex G – “Hope”

“Hope” is chaotic good. The synth chords, nylon strings, and Alex G’s dreamy falsetto flow together for a driving, tense, and inspiring song about death and rememberance. House of Sugar’s “Gretel” is a similarly wild ride, but “Hope” is the standout for me here.

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8. Charli XCX & Christine and the Queens – “Gone”

“Gone” is the best true pop song of the year. Charli and her powerhouse collaborators on this track and on the rest of Charli are defining industrial, dancey, glitchy pop for the new decade. Also shouts out to “1999” feat. Troye Sivan, which I’ve definitely yelled in the shower way too loud.

7. Bon Iver – “Salem”

The second drum kit, strings, and backing horns that kick in on the chorus of “Salem” elevate this track to Bon Iver Gospel Tier. It’s the best cut off of i,i and was a highlight of their incredible live show at the Schott this Fall.

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6. PUP – “See You At Your Funeral”

An absolute ANTHEM. I saw PUP live here in Columbus and holy wow I’ve never been around a more energetic, enthusiastic, and kind crowd. The pit was swirling fast, but any time anyone fell or wanted out the whole pit just paused to help them out! That’s the energy of this band and of this song - communal mania.

5. Oso Oso – “basking in the glow”

My favorite track from the best new artist I discovered this year. Jade Lilitri writes Oso Oso songs with self-conscious intention, finding the sweet spot between self-blame and accountability.

These days, it feels like all I know is this phase

I hope I’m basking in the glow

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4. Big Thief – “Not”

Adrianne Lenker is a once in a generation songwriter. “Not” speaks to the maddening experience of paralyzing aphashia. When I trust my gut and act based on my physical instincts, my decisions or conclusions may differ from where intellectual rationalization would lead. Here, Big Thief capture how difficult it can be to explain decisions to someone who lives outside your body and mind. I can feel confident and secure in my understanding about a situation, relationship, or big decision, but still find it easier to say what’s not leading to my conclusion rather than to articulate precisely what is.

Not the meat of your thigh

Nor your spine tattoo

Not your shimmery eye

Nor the wet of the dew

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3. Vampire Weekend – “Harmony Hall”

“Harmony Hall” balances musical buoyancy and lyrical despondency as expertly as anywhere in the Vampire Weekend catalog. It’s a summer song to holler with the windows down, but it makes you question how you can just go about, like, making pancakes while surrounded by all the chaos.

2. Jamila Woods – “BETTY”

“BETTY” is the standout opening track from Jamila Woods’s fantastic new soul / R&B album LEGACY! LEGACY!. Woods’s sweet, swelling vocals and an insanely catchy hook meld into a stunning celebration of self-love, femininity, and independence.

Running from myself, I come undone

I wait, I try

Falling for myself

It's taken time to know I'm mine

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1. Sharon Van Etten – “Seventeen”

“Seventeen” rejects the idea that our younger selves would be better off “if we only knew then what we know now.” Throughout her discography, Van Etten views wisdom as a trait developed by more than just growing old and learning from others. It’s also a long process of discovering how to listen to your body and trust your own judgment. Van Etten reflects on her teenage years not with regret and shame but with compassion and patience. Here she longs for the carefree days when she thought she had it all figured out, embodying the rage her teenage self might feel if she knew how her life turned out.

While the pain she expresses in the explosive bridge of “Seventeen” is retroactive and cathartic, it also feels very current. Because Van Etten still is that same free, lonely teenager, both then and now. Our pasts selves are always with us. Learning to unlock and express our emotions and relate them to our own evolving idea of our personal legend is the mission of a lifespan. The lesson from Van Etten here is to be patient and compassionate with yourself along the way.

BONUS!

My favorite cover song of the year: Courtney Barnett - “So Long, Marianne”

I’ve been a cover music fan since discovering the Coverville podcast a few years ago. I couldn’t write about my favorite music of the year without mentioning this perfect Leonard Cohen cover from Courtney Barnett. Her voice brings Cohen’s prose a new level of emotional complexity. This cover will wreck you; you’ve been warned.

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#best of 2019 #music list #music review #sharon van etten #jamila woods #vampire weekend #big thief #oso oso #PUP #charli xcx #(sandy) alex g #lana del rey #fka twigs #james blake #frank ocean #tyler the creator #angel olsen #bon iver

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ekebolou · 7 years

Note

#20! Tenor Group

Hahahahaaaaaaa I accidentally kinda went off on this one. I have another idea for a shorter one, but who knows if I’ll get to writing it down. Anyway, I spent way too long on this hope you like it :B

For once, all six of them were together, walking down a far too chilly hallway on a floor higher up than their own floor in the Tenor Building. Because of the separate elevators for different stretches for floors, they had assumed the elevators for the stretch of floors above them simply didn’t connect to their floor (or, in Bosh’s opinion, they didn’t exist). The suit who had come to get them, however, had opened a panel and inserted a key and suddenly they were going up.

It was hard to avoid the conclusion that they were in trouble.

“You shouldn’t have gone in on that bank robbery,” Bosh hissed at Seth’s back. This wasn’t smart, since the vast majority of her road rash received during said bank robbery was on the backs of her arms, making her somewhat sensitive to changes in the air behind her. Also, it was unwise generally, because in her extremely short words on the matter yesterday, she had been ‘having trouble regulating heat.’

Decon, in his head, had likened it to speaking near a guttering candle – every breath moved the flame. Except it wasn’t very apt, because instead of going out, the flame reared up and swallowed your face.

At this moment, however, she chose not to respond.

“We aren’t supposed to have anything to do with crime-fighting, or whatever the fu–”

“Bosh,” Decon said.

“Fuck off with that propriety shit, Decon, you two just blew our whole future here—”

Fir pushing past him to take the lead stopped his talk – or maybe it was the slightly obnoxious smell of the black licorice from the bag cradled in his arm. “He’s not correcting your potty mouth, he’s trying to make sure she doesn’t fry you before we get to the boardroom.”

“You assholes haven’t ruined my chances,” Julie said. “Or you better not have, because if you have…”

“Julie, you weren’t even there,” Decon said gently. “There’s no way you’ll be held responsible.”

Looking no less sour, Julie pressed her lips together and looked away. The others were thinking of upgrading their estimation of Decon’s abilities to include disagreeing with Julie without the situation escalating.

“Yeah,” Firmament offered, walking backward in front of the group and speak around the strand of the licorice wheel he was unpeeling, “the ol’ man nee’s you to make ‘im nukes or whatever anyway. ’S just us.”

“The fuckup trifecta!” Bosh cried.

“Wes was there,” Decon said.

“Wes didn’t fuck up. He doesn’t have any powers, he can just go back to a normie or whatever.”

Everyone (except Julie, who disdainfully looked the opposite direction) looked at Wes. Wes shrugged.

“It’s not fucking up to help people,” Fir drawled. “Anyway, nobody used their powers,” his eyes slid over to Seth, “proveably, anyway.”

Decon saw the candle flicker vividly in his mind. Not for the first time, he had reason to marvel at the human tendency to just stop and watch, say, an explosion, rather than running for their lives. Otherwise he was mentally joining Wes in a contemplation of what, in fact, would happen to Wes should he lose the sponsorship of the group. At this point, going back into the care of Dr. Hardwick, however vital she was to him, was not promising. Unlike Firmament, he had disposed of all of his scrubs.

“It is when there’s a fucking law, or congressional act… thingie, or amendment, or whatever to keep you from doing it! Or else what was our fearless leader’s big talk about ‘not raising concerns’ or ‘keeping a low profile’ or whatever that nonsense–”

“Bosh,” Fir said, “she is going to set you on fire.”

Because Bosh could check on the reality of that statement, and he did, he stopped talking.

“How is there this long of a fucking hallways in this building,” Firmament said, turning slowly as he walked. “Who actually has big, dark, secret boardrooms at the tops of towers? I feel like we’re going to fight a wizard, not get a scolding from our boss,”

“A scolding would be lucky,” Seth said.

Everybody stopped talking.

It was a long and quiet walk.

There was an anteroom to the board room that made it feel like they were being decontaminated before entering a delicate environment. All glass walls but for the one with the door, which helped the light fight against the abyssal darkness of the polished black walls and floors. The normal stream of inane music which occupied Bosh’s thoughts had given way to the ominous sound of Darth Vadar breathing, though amazingly he hadn’t mentioned it to anybody.

A secretary got up to greet them without saying a word. He took out his phone and silently indicated turning of the volume, prompting them all to check, and by way of suggestion making all of them subconsciously concerned they were breathing too loud. Julie’s sneakers made a noise on the floor, and she actually looked mortified, rather than as if it was somehow their faults for hearing it. Seth’s grim silence had evolved into the rocky, thousand-yard-stare of a political veteran about to not just bite the hand that feeds, but potentially tear it off at the wrist.

Firmament found Seth inspiring. Decon was putting together a list of contacts and organizations he knew of to help everyone get resettled after they were fired, particularly Wes. Wes was trying to remember the supposed difference between “Ice Ice Baby” and “Under Pressure”.

The secretary, using signals only perceivable to himself, waited until the proper moment to slide open the completely silent black glass door. Firmament barely managed to stop himself from asking who the hell would have a completely opaque black glass door. He was allowed to take his licorice in, so he thought it best not to push it.

Now there was a lot of light, since the boardroom seemed to be in a corner of the building. They had a magnificent view of the city, right down to the water, fog, and bridges. The only pieces of furniture in the room were a hideously large black conference table with equally large black chairs, and a tiny rolling service with an airpot of coffee and a pitcher of water on it at some arbitrarily declared but somehow aesthetic distance from said table.

Mr. Tenor was on the phone.

Rather, a voice was coming out of the weird plastic star on the conference table with a phone-like quality, as Mr. Tenor sat at the end of the table, steepling his fingers and listening. He motioned for them to sit.

Seth stalked stiff-legged to his right hand, while the rest of them trailed after, reluctantly admitting to themselves that this wasn’t a moment that would allow them to sit at the back of the class. On his right were Seth, Bosh, and Decon; on his left, Fir, Wes, and Julie.

The voice on the phone was saying, “We’re old friends, we go back a long ways, and I just want the situation to be clear between us.”

“Yes,” Mr. Tenor said.

“You know I wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t facing just the utmost pressure, just the greatest possible… it’s really tough, you know?”

“Yes,” Mr. Tenor said.

“And, you know, I use my influence wisely on your behalf. You wouldn’t appreciate me just throwing it all away to fight for a dead cause.”

“Yes,” Mr. Tenor said.

There was a pause. The sound of various rustlings, a hesitant breath taken that turned into a politely quieted cough. The pause dragged.

“So… so you see what I’m saying, don’t you?” the voice on the phone asked.

“Of course, Senator,” Mr. Tenor said.

Even Seth got a little pale at that one.

“So… I mean, I have to take this course of action. My hands… I’m really… my hands are really tied.”

“Of course they are,” Mr. Tenor said.

There was another pause.

“So…?” the voice on the phone said.

“So, let us be absolutely clear,” Mr. Tenor said. “The next thing you plan to do is to make a speech to Congress decrying the actions of a group of young people under my care. You anticipate their possession of special abilities will somehow mitigate the damaging effects of a United States Senator taking a group of teenagers who risked their lives to save others to task on a national stage. You also expect that this will mitigate the effects of the federal government bringing its full power to bear in prosecuting children…”

“Not the full power – and not the Feds, not really…”

“No, Senator, it will be the federal government. It was the federal government who put this law into effect regarding their conduct, and I will want no less than the full power and discretion of the federal government put into effect on their behalf. If you think for a moment, Senator, I will allow this to stay on a state level, where any number of factors will interfere in the absolute impartiality of judgement, you are much mistaken. You see, too many people know me in this state, Senator. You are not the only one, Senator. And there are only more people the further down the hierarchy we go. I could not allow the judgement of these young people to rest in the hands of those compromised by familiarity, for the sake of the comfort of a small and personal stage. Oh, no, Senator, I will not. The only direction this goes, is up.”

Seth was decidedly pale. Even Firmament had a disarming seriousness to his gaze. It was good nobody knew what Wes was thinking.

The voice on the phone had not expected Mr. Tenor to pause. “…I… this is really unprecedented, Mr. Tenor, I don’t see what you expect…”

“It will be good to set the precedent, Senator,” Mr. Tenor said. “I am always pleased to help.”

“I… this is all… I meant, intentions are all well and good, Mr. Tenor, but I’m not sure the Feds will be interested in pursuing…”

“I can assure you that they will be,” Mr. Tenor said.

Another pause happened. Decon caught Julie’s eye and held it, taking long, slow, breaths, which she soon began to imitate. Bosh’s knuckles were white on the table edge, so in accord was everyone except Mr. Tenor; his empathy, as usual, found Mr. Tenor like a clouded sea, the waves of which pushed him away, whereas the others he felt like still, clear water. The contrast was making him seasick.

“Look, this really doesn’t have to be this big of an issue,” the voice said, more combative than it had been.

“You and your colleagues made it this big an issue when you put the Acts into effect, Senator. It was a nice way to do something about regulating the actions of Islanders after the fact, and in a lull in which you would not be forced to face the consequences of your actions – but now, here we are. And if you are prepared to argue that a seventeen year old girl who was shot and nearly buried under rubble deserved to take no actions in her defense despite her ample ability to defend herself, I am prepared to make sure those arguments are heard by everyone who have been living under the Acts that make it so.”

“That’s not even the question,” the voice said, “that’s not even the direction we’re going to take this…”

“Oh, but it is. Because it cannot help but be relevant to the question of why that building came down on her in the first place when she had with her another young man perfectly capable of preventing it, who legally could not.”

“You use ‘young man’ a little freely, don’t you? That ‘young man’ should be safely locked up,” the voice spat, “there is no evidence that the building coming down isn’t his fault in the first place, and it’s not like he doesn’t have a history…”

“There will be evidence that it is not, Senator,” Mr. Tenor said. “As should be expected, I have people gathering the facts of the matter as soon as they are available. I have it on good word from my friends in the bomb squad that there is no evidence implicating Firmament.”

“Regardless,” the voice said, “there was no reason for them to be there in the first place…”

“At one of my banks? Where they have some of their savings from my program invested?”

There was another pause. Now, Seth just looked slightly guilty.

“People died, Mr. Tenor,” the voice said. “We can’t ignore that people died…”

Seth paled again. Firmament sat up in his chair such that Mr. Tenor’s gaze actually flicked to him, acknowledging his agitation.

“Criminals died, Senator, in the commission of a crime. Shot by their own weapons in the confusion. And people lived, Senator, because of my team.”

“So you admit it, then, Tenor? This is a team – this is your way of setting up a new wave of violent vigilante justice teams, using children–”

“They are my team,” Mr. Tenor said, his voice dropping, “because they are my children. I have taken responsibility for them. Both their parents and the various entities with guardianship have been assured of no less from me than to treat them as my own. We are working together to do something important, something good – doing something, rather than the nothing the rest of the nation has done by hiding under the covers and pretending Islanders don’t exist, denying them both acknowledgement and aid because you are afraid – acting as if you could legislate away their abilities by forbidding them to use them, on pain of prosecution. It is unfair, Senator, and it is inhumane, and I won’t allow it to happen to my children, and I will gladly stand before the nation and insist it should never happen to anyone.”

The silence stretched, not even a rustling on the other side, just the quiet buzz of the phone still operating.

“This was a courtesy call,” the voice said sharply. “I shouldn’t have even informed you. I’ve done this a favor for all that you’ve done for me in the past…”

“Thank you,” Mr. Tenor said.

There was another pause. A sigh. “I… so we’re good then?”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Mr. Tenor said. Looking up at the team arrayed around him.

“Are you sure there’s no way… are you sure this is the course of action…”

“Absolutely.”

Another pause followed. It was like they could hear the sweat on the Senator’s brow. “I’m sorry you feel that way about it, Mr. Tenor, but maybe it you gave it some thought—”

“I’ll see you in Washington, Pat.”

Mr. Tenor pressed the button to end the call, then leaned back in his chair again. Everyone had nothing better to do for a few moments than to look at one another.

“Seth,” Mr. Tenor said, gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Seth said, when she was able to make her mouth not quite so dry. “I’m… better. Recovering very well.”

“I just want to make sure Susan’s come up and talked to you?”

“Yes,” Seth glanced nervously at the others, a blush rising, “I… I mean… Decon mentioned she visited. I mean to get down there, and… I definitely will take advantage of that counseling…”

She glanced at Decon, who with his usual pleasant forbearance gave no sign of what she had said, loudly, about his suggestions she take Susan up on her offer.

“Good, and thank you Decon,” he said, smiling. “Getting shot would have an effect on anyone, it’s really just a good idea to check in.” He glanced at Bosh. “It wouldn’t be too bad an idea for you, either, you know.”

“I wasn’t there,” Bosh said.

“I just mean in terms of sharing professional insights – you might just have things to learn from one another. It would be a shame not to take advantage of some of the resources you have here for exploring your own abilities.”

This wasn’t the first time Bosh had been told to do his homework, but it was perhaps the only time he hadn’t given a smart-assed response.

“And Decon,” Mr. Tenor smiled, “I just want to thank you for taking such an initiative in looking after your teammates.”

Decon nodded, with a little smile. Maybe he was referring to taking the sometimes literal heat for pushing Seth to go see the counselor. Maybe he meant illegally using his abilities to dig Seth out of the rubble at the bank. Decon had a feeling that there was a reason he’d been thanked twice.

“Firmament, I assume you’re feeling well,” Mr. Tenor said, gesturing at the bag of licorice wheels. Fir offered him one, which he declined with a smile.

“Good,” Mr. Tenor said. “It’s good to see everyone’s recovering.”

“Everyone who needs recovering,” Julie hissed. This signal return to form was like everyone getting to let out a long-held breath.

“I just wanted to check in,” Mr. Tenor said. “I’ve been lax. We should be having these slightly more often. It’s just been a little busy of late – and I know you all are busy. I wouldn’t want to stick my nose in.”

A bolt of unease shot through the four members of the fuckup trifecta. So, Mr. Tenor knew (or suspected) what they were up to…

“Julie, at some later point, I want to talk to you a little bit about expanding your research. I would like to see you more involved with the rest of your team – strictly within the bounds of what we have discussed with your lab of course. Perhaps just a more active, daily check in kind of research. Comings and goings. Environment changes, that sort of thing. Does that make sense?”

“We can discuss it,” Julie said, folding her arms and frowning.

Mr. Tenor smiled. “I can use the money at that bank to help fund this change in direction. I had only recently decided to open accounts for you there. Surely you must have seen notes I sent to that effect, which explains why you went down there in the first place.”

They all looked shame-facedly down at the table. Fir stuffed a licorice wheel in his mouth instead of saying, ‘No, Mr. Tenor, of course it wasn’t the news coverage of the robbery! They certainly didn’t run out half-cocked and unthinking to try to test themselves in a dangerous situation! It was a note. About their savings.’

Julie sniffed disdainfully. “Research. Sure.”

Mr. Tenor smiled at her. “Well, glad to see everyone’s doing so well. We’ll have another chat sometime soon.”

So dismissed, they all got up, shuffling at various speeds towards the door.

“Wesley,” Mr. Tenor called, as they exited.

Wes jogged back to the table.

“Wesley,” Mr. Tenor said, “At the bank...”

“Oh,” Wes said, once he understood Mr. Tenor’s hesitation, “Don’t worry. No fingerprints.”

Mr. Tenor nodded, and Wes left with the others, humming softly.

5 notes · View notes

chipsandwaffles · 7 years

Text

Elevator Music - Bedroom

Maybe that bliss with Jaehyun could last forever.

jk here’s your last chapter you jaehyun lovers enjoy ^^

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A silence fills the air for a moment. And then, suddenly, Jaehyun is pushing you against the door of your apartment, his eyes scanning across your face as he searches for something in your features. You’re not sure what, and you squirm against him, wanting him off of you and away from you.

“Do you like me?” Jaehyun asks. You roll your eyes.

“Of course I like you I wouldn’t make out with you-

“Y/N. Do. You. Like. Me.”

You know what Jaehyun is asking. You know exactly what he’s asking. And you want to tell him “yes you fucking idiot I like you” but you’re not sure what’s going to happen if you do. He’ll either leave, or he might return your feelings.

Which, seemed a little farfetched because Jaehyun thought with his dick and only his dick. There was no way he actually had feelings for you.

Right?

“Do you like me?”

Jaehyun stares at you in confusion at your question. He had seemed so confident and in power, asking the questions, pinning you against your apartment door, and now here he was, silent and confused as you looked at one another.

“Do I… like you?” Jaehyun repeats. You want to close your eyes and wait until Jaehyun drops the ball that he only sees you as a someone he wants to make out with and fuck, because that’d be much easier than watching him think about his answer. He looks deep in thought, and it makes you nervous because who has to think that long to know whether they like you or not?

“Can I be honest with you? No judgement or anything?” Jaehyun asks. He’s quiet, his eyes to the ground and you nod your head, mumbling out a small “yes” for him.

Suddenly, his hands are grabbing yours, squeezing them gently and he looks up at you, a serious expression on his face that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before.

“I can honestly say I’m completely in love with you.”

You blink a few times. You look down at your hands in Jaehyun’s. You look back up at him, open your mouth, and you promptly close it.

Did Jaehyun just say that? Did he just say he was in love with you? Are you sure you were hearing right? Maybe you were dreaming.

You hope you’re not dreaming.

“You’re in love with me?” You ask in disbelief.

“Why is that so surprising to you?” Jaehyun asks. He’s frowning, as if he’s actually offended that you’d be so surprised at finding out he’s in love with you. But how could you not be surprised? Jaehyun hadn’t shown any kind of feelings besides “let me kiss you” or “let me fuck you”, maybe even “let’s be friends who do stuff”, and now here he was, confessing his love to you.

It was weird; all you knew was the boy who thought with his dick.

“Y/N, you’re making me feel like you’re not going to return my feelings and I’m just sitting here waiting for you for no reason. You like me, right? At least a little bit?”

You laugh at Jaehyun. “Sorry, I’m sorry I’m just- you’re in love with me.”

“…why is that funny?” He asks, a look of hurt flashing across his face. You shake your head and squeeze his hands, smiling up at him. You didn’t want him jumping to conclusions so you quickly start talking to answer his questions.

“It’s not funny it’s just- I like you. I more than like you. It’s just surprising because I thought you only wanted to fuck me and- you really like me?”

Jaehyun nods once in understanding before smiling back at you. “I really like you. And I really want to fuck you. Is that bad to think?”

“No, it’s not. I really want to fuck you too-

“Do you want to right now?” Jaehyun asks. You squeeze his hands again.

“I’m kind of still in disbelief that you’re in love with me so… maybe convince me some more?”

Jaehyun looks confused for all of two seconds before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, gentle kiss. One of his hands that had been holding yours finds its way up your arm, to your neck, placing itself there and pulling you a little closer. You smile into the kiss, the feeling far too different from any other kiss you’ve shared together. This was loving and innocent, while the others had been so full of want and lust.

Both were fine, but this kiss really had your heart beating so erratically.

Jaehyun pulls away after a few seconds, his lips hovering away from yours by only a couple of centimeters.

“I love you,” he says.

You swear you’re dreaming. This had to be a dream. Here was the guy you had fallen in love with after so many shared moments together telling you he loved you, making your skin tingle in delight with just one phrase. How could it not be a dream? How could this be real?

“Can I take you to your room?” Jaehyun asks. You nod your head and Jaehyun steps away from you, leading you down the hall and to your bedroom. He lets you enter first, closing the door behind you before he’s practically latching himself to you, arms wrapping around you and lips connecting with yours once again.

It’s definitely a lust filled kiss, nothing but want for you coming from him. It still somehow sends shivers down your spine, even after you’ve had plenty of kisses like this before.

Jaehyun backs you up as you kiss until the back of your knees hit the edge of your bed, and you fall back, pulling Jaehyun down with you. He wasn’t expecting it though and nearly falls on top of you, but manages to catch himself, pulling away. You look at each other and laugh. Jaehyun’s dimples show and you lean up to kiss each of them, still grinning at him when you pull back.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming,” Jaehyun says. He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, soft and quick. “Tell me you’re real.”

“I’m real,” you say. You lean forward to kiss Jaehyun back. “Are you real?”

“You tell me.”

Jaehyun’s hands find their way under your shirt immediately, wasting no time in sliding it over your head and tossing it to the floor. His lips connect with your skin, and his hands run up your sides, sending more shivers across your body. Your skin is already heating up at his touch, the feeling pleasantly overwhelming.

Jaehyun catches you off guard when he sucks a mark in a particular spot near your chest that makes you moan, and your hands scramble for his shirt, fisting your hands in the fabric. You’re not sure at all how he could find a sensitive spot so easily, when he’s only had your neck to work with, but here he was, already pleasing you beyond belief and he didn’t even have his hands in your pants yet.

He continues to suck the spot until you know a nice, pretty mark is resting there and he kisses it once, twice, trailing his lips back up your neck and pressing a kiss to your lips once more.

“Was that real enough for you?” He asks. You smile playfully at him.

“Mm, I don’t know. This still feels like a dream.”

“I’ll try harder then.”

Jaehyun’s lips trail back down your neck, going further and further down until his mouth is sucking a mark into the side of your stomach and his hands are messing with the hem of your sweatpants. You stare down at him, watching him, wondering exactly what he has planned for you. He had said all those dirty things to you while you made out with each other, but, this was your first time together.

He’d probably be soft.

Hopefully.

“Jaehyun.” Jaehyun looks up at you with the mention of his name, smiling a little as he presses a kiss to the mark he made. “Are… are you going to be soft with me?”

Jaehyun hums against your skin as he kisses his way back up your body, pressing a soft, featherlight kiss to your lips. “I’ll be soft, definitely. Unless you don’t want me to be?”

“I do. At least… for our first time.” Jaehyun kisses you again and before you can even try to make the kiss last, he’s already kissing back down your body, peppering kisses wherever he can. His hands roam your body, touching here and there, and somewhere between his kisses he starts mumbling words into your skin.

They’re along the lines of “so beautiful” and “I like you” and other praises that make your heart flutter as you listen. You hadn’t really seen this side of Jaehyun before, and, seeing it now, seeing him be so gentle and sweet like this only made you love him more.

You’d tell him you loved him, but his hands distract you when they move back down to the waistband of your sweatpants, tugging up at them. You make eye contact with him, and it’s almost like he’s asking for permission to take them off, to see more of you like he’s wanted so many times before.

You bite your lip, wiggling your hips a little to let Jaehyun know he can keep going. You work together to get your pants off, him pulling down while you lift your hips up, making it easier for him. You watch as they land on the floor next to your shirt, and then your attention is once again back on Jaehyun as his mouth connects with the inside of your thigh, nipping at the skin there. He kisses up your thigh, to your stomach, smiling at you.

For a long time, Jaehyun just continues to kiss and nip and mark your skin, at your thighs, your stomach, your collarbone, your neck, back down and up again, over and over until you’ve had enough of it. He was fucking teasing you, and you needed more than that.

You needed him. And, as much as you didn’t want to rush your first time, you had been wanting him to fuck you before, so he could at least drop the teasing and get on with it.

“Jaehyun.” He looks up at you from where he’s sucking a particular mark right against your shoulder, where anyone could see if you were wearing a sleeveless shirt. The thought of people knowing he did this to you gets your face all hot and suddenly any words you were going to say to him catches in your throat.

“Y/N.” Jaehyun kisses the mark he placed on your shoulder, pressing kisses along your skin until his lips are touching yours. “What is it?”

You and him stare at each other, you silently hoping he’ll understand that you want more than kisses, because really, you’ve been kissing for weeks. You could deal without them for the time it took for him to fuck you.

Jaehyun’s hands roam down your body as you continue looking at each other, stopping at certain places. When he stops at your hips, you let out a quiet moan, hoping he’ll take the hint.

All of a sudden, Jaehyun is back down by your thighs, his fingers messing with the waistband of your panties. You hold your breath and nod your head when he raises an eyebrow at you.

And then they’re sliding down your body, joining the rest of your clothing that had come off. And then he’s helping you out of your sports bra, throwing it to the floor to complete the pile.

You’re completely naked underneath Jaehyun, his eyes admiring everything about you. He already had most of you, but now he had all of you, and he was clearly enjoying it. You can tell he enjoys it even more when he’s leaning down to press kisses against your breast, one of his hands moving to mess with the other. It makes you moan, the feeling of his mouth and his hands touching at one of your sensitive areas.

Jaehyun’s fingers tease at one of your nipples, bringing another moan out of you. For a slight second, you wonder if Jaehyun has done this before. If he’s touched someone like this, made them feel as good as you were feeling. You’d ask, but, that didn’t seem appropriate in this situation. Jaehyun was trying to pleasure you, distract you from anything and everything that wasn’t him. You shouldn’t let his hard work go to waste.

You bring your attention back to him, his mouth nipping at the skin above your breasts and his hand trailing down your body, down between your legs until one of his fingers is touching at your clit. You buck your hips up towards his hand, wanting more of what you had needed all along.

But, Jaehyun stops abruptly, pulling away from you until he’s not even touching you anymore. You look at him, frowning, wondering why he stopped so suddenly.

“Sorry- I’m sorry I just- I realized I haven’t even taken off my shirt- hold on.” Jaehyun gets off the bed and begins stripping, articles of clothing dropping one by one until he’s completely naked, nothing but himself standing before you.

For some reason though, he still looks concerned. You sit up and reach for his arm, tugging a little. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I be honest with you?” Jaehyun asks. You nod slowly, hoping it’s not something serious. Or, him telling you this was a joke and that he didn’t love you. That wasn’t something you needed to hear or think about.

Jaehyun moves his hands to your face, holding it gently for a moment.

“It’s just that… I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long and we’re taking it really slow and- it’s okay if you want to go slow but- I… really want to… fuck you already.”

“…I didn’t say to take it slow. You could’ve fucked me ten minutes ago if you wanted.”

“…really?” You nod your head and smile at Jaehyun.

“Really.”

“Is it okay if we skip everything else then and just… go straight to that then?” Jaehyun asks.

“Go for it.”

Jaehyun lays you back down on the bed, crawling back on it until his face is between your thighs. His mouth immediately attaches to your clit, surprising you and making you let out a strangled moan at the action. His fingers don’t bother hesitating either, moving to tease at your entrance.

He really did want to go straight into it.

He continues sucking at your clit, making moans come out of you every time he moves his mouth even slightly. Even if he was clearly rushing, he was still good. His fingers only add to the pleasure as one pushes into you, moving slowly and gently in you. You relax quickly, adjusting to the feeling and enjoying Jaehyun’s mouth on you to distract you from when his other fingers start pushing into you.

It doesn’t take long before there’s a second, and then a third finger, moving and scissoring you open, out and in, giving you pleasure more than you could give to yourself before. Usually you didn’t really bother using your fingers on anything else but your clit, deciding it was too much of a hassle when you could easily make do without that.

And here Jaehyun was, doing all the work for you, making you feel good with his fingers. They were better than yours, slender and hitting all the right spots in you that you couldn’t reach. That could only last for so long though. You needed more.

The anticipation for his cock makes you let out a filthy moan, wiggling your hips a little to let Jaehyun know you wanted him and you wanted him now. You were ready.

You were so fucking ready for him.

Jaehyun seems to get the hint and moves his mouth off your clit and his fingers pull out of you. You stare at him and he mouths the word lube at you, hoping maybe he could add a little more simplicity to the work at hand.

But, you shake your head. You didn’t have any lube, and Jaehyun laughs a little, nodding his head. Before you can offer to maybe help him out by giving him head, he moves his body, positioning himself at your entrance. You almost push him away, thinking he’d just continue on. Five seconds ago you were ready, but thinking about it now you definitely were not. It’d hurt and you didn’t want that.

But Jaehyun doesn’t push into you, he just teases at your entrance with the head of his cock, moving it up between your folds and back down. It feels good, it feels so good, and you could easily come just like this. You wouldn’t mind. You think maybe that’s not the purpose of that though. Jaehyun was most likely trying to get his dick slick enough to be able to push into you.

Besides, he’d probably want you coming around him anyways.

Eventually, when Jaehyun deems it enough, the head of his cock is at your entrance again, staying there instead of moving anywhere else. He looks at you, that silent asking of permission back. You move your hands to his face, pulling him down to press your lips against his in silent consent, telling him you wanted this.

You wanted him.

Jaehyun kisses back, and it nearly distracts you as he pushes into you. You whine into his mouth at the slight uncomfortable feeling, never having something as big as him in you before. He pulls back almost immediately, teasing at you entrance only for a second, and then pushing back in. He continues doing this, opening you fully up for him slowly but surely.

The kiss between you doesn’t last, Jaehyun moving away only slightly to instead put his forehead against yours.

“You feel just as good as I thought you would,” he tells you. “You feel so fucking good. Do- do you feel good?”

You whine a little, smiling at Jaehyun. “So good- just. Don’t stop.”

“Don’t plan on it.”

Jaehyun’s pace is slow and sweet when you finally relax around him enough for him to move smoothly. He feels amazing, and all those times you had thought about him fucking you in the elevator could never match up to how you were feeling now. Your hands move to find Jaehyun’s, wanting to hold them like you would if you were a couple. They run down his arms, only feeling at his biceps for a short moment. When you fucked another time, where you weren’t trying to be loving, you’d pay extra attention to those arms and all the rest of the muscles you hadn’t been paying attention to today.

You find his hands and he immediately pins your arms to the bed, entwining your fingers only a moment later. It’s a rather normal gesture between you two, but something about this one feels loving and like he wants to hold your hands too as he fucks you.

It makes you smile and you lean up to bring him into another kiss. This one is soft, Jaehyun moving his lips against yours so gently and sweetly, savoring every moment of the kiss as much as he can. When he pulls away, he puts his focus back on fucking you, picking up his pace a little bit. The change makes you moan, and you close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling.

There’s another feeling in the pit of your stomach, all too familiar from nights you’ve done things like this by yourself. It makes you tense around Jaehyun and your toes curl, makes you squeeze at his hands that were holding yours and makes you let out more moans as he fucks you.

“Fuck, Y/N- are you close?”

“I’m- yes, fuck, yes. Jaehyun. Don’t stop.”

Jaehyun keeps moving his hips and then he’s hitting a spot in you that makes you whine, each time getting more sensitive than the last as he keeps hitting it. It feels good, so fucking good. Jaehyun must be feeling ridiculously good too, because his movements are becoming sloppy, stuttering every so often.

“Jaehyun- are you close?” You ask, your breathing ragged. Jaehyun nods his head, moaning out your name as he continues thrusting in and out of you. You whine at him, your hands struggling to move from his grip, wanting to help yourself finish. His strength was something else.

He seems to understand what you want though, and instead of letting you move your hand, he moves his own, his fingers coming in contact with your clit again. You let out a moan instantly, feeling in the pit of your stomach increasing tenfold with every movement he makes.

“Fuck- Y/N, Y/N, I’m so close- I’m- Y/N.”

“Yes, yes, keep going I’m close too- ah- fuck- Jaehyun!”

It only takes a few more thrusts and a few more circles of Jaehyun’s fingers before you’re coming around him, your body tensing from the pleasure. You close your eyes, reveling in all the feelings overwhelming you. You breathe with Jaehyun, who had halted his movements for you, his fingers the only thing still even bothering to help you ride out your high.

It takes you a moment before you come down from it, and Jaehyun is pulling out of you, his hand that had been on your clit moving to his cock. You open your eyes, wondering what he was doing and see him stroking himself, his eyes closed as he focuses on making himself come.

You realize why he had done that instead of just coming in you, having no condom on, and your heart swells with love and adoration for him. You watch him stroke himself, moaning out his name every time he moans out yours, hoping it helps him.

Eventually, Jaehyun is coming into his hand and on your stomach. You’re too happy to even care about the mess, watching him and letting him do what he wanted. If he felt good, then you felt good.

When he finally finishes himself off, he falls onto the bed next to you, letting out heavy breaths. It only takes a short moment before you feel something wiping up the come on your stomach. You look down to see Jaehyun using his t-shirt, smiling a little at his lazy consideration for you. He tosses it to the floor after cleaning himself up and lets out a heavy breath.

Jaehyun and you lay next to each other for a while, you nearly falling asleep after that experience, until his hand is reaching for yours and he’s pressing kisses to your knuckles. You look at him with droopy eyes, a sleepy smile pointed in his direction.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Still making sure you know I’m real,” he says. You wiggle your hand out of his grip and shove at him lightly.

“I know you’re real. Very real. I… would’ve hated if this was a dream.”

“Oh yeah?” Jaehyun scoots closer to you, wrapping his arms around you. You hum in response and snuggle close, your head resting against his chest. You were definitely going to fall asleep like this.

“I’m glad you’re real and you love me… It’s probably not obvious but I’m… unbelievably happy.”

You feel Jaehyun kiss the top of your head and mumble something about how he’s happy too. You’re glad. You’re glad he’s happy, that he’s happy with you, and that this isn’t a dream. You’re glad this was all real, and that when you woke up, Jaehyun was going to be there.

Jaehyun was going to still love you and be with you and want you for more than just kisses or sex.

“Jaehyun…”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

Jaehyun laughs quietly, most likely at your sleepy voice. He kisses the top of your head again and squeezes you close, the love he has for you apparent in the way he touches you and holds you. You love it. You love him.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

And he loves you.

#jung jaehyun imagines #jung jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct scenarios #nct imagines #sheep writes

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cinnamon-muffins · 7 years

Text

Mail-Order Mello (Part 2)

Summary: Growing tired of his father harassing him about marriage, Near decides to play the ultimate joke by ordering a Russian bride. Little does he know, he ends up with more than he bargained for. | MelloxNear, LightxL | Alternate Universe

:*watches as he sets the large tip on the table but doesn’t comment on it, but he does wonder if this is something Near just always does* *continues towards the exit alongside him, throwing his hood up and over his head* You’re done already?:

:*does the same as Mello, even if he dislikes the way the fur-covered rim tickles against his cheek* It’s getting late, I don’t like to be out at dark. You should be glad I came out to begin with.:

:Hm. Suit yourself. *pushes open the door, a bell dinging above them as they leave - but the rain is a bit heavier now, the temperature having dropped since they first arrived* дерьмо.. *shoves his hands in his coat pockets, looking over towards Near to see how he’s handling it*:

(‘Shit..’)

:*as soon as they step out into the rain, his face grows into an uncomfortable grimace* *crosses his arms across his chest, his torso already racked with hard shivering* It’s-- cold...:

:We’ll be back soon. It’s not that bad. *begins along the wet sidewalk, maneuvering around the people there* In Russia, where I lived, it hardly ever rose above 30.:

:This isn’t normal f- for me... *his walking begins to slow down as his limbs grow affected by the cold, trying to burrow into his hood, suddenly thankful it’s there*:

:I assume you didn’t grow up somewhere cold then. *sees the towering building of Near’s a couple blocks away, and he grows suddenly curious, and while it’s a question that should be asked in private, he realizes no one is even listening* *speaks through the rain, leaning so Near can hear him better* .. I’m sure large building like yours draws attention. What do you say it is?:

:-- Software. *says as loud as he can, which isn’t that loud* You should have seen the logo- as you came in. It’s a multi-million dollar company in itself.:

:Ah. Does anyone ever try to apply for ‘job’? *glances towards him again, and once he notices his subtle shivering, he has half a mind to help him out - but he decides against it, figuring he’d also feel uncomfortable in the first place*:

:*too focused on trying to keep himself from freezing and hitting oncoming strangers to notice his grammar, his fingers tightening their grip on his jacket* It happens, but our receptionist knows wh- what to do then-- *suddenly gets hit on the shoulder but a rapidly walking business man, it temporarily knocking him off balance* --!:

: - ! *before he can process what’s happening, he reaches out to catch Near before he can fall, grasping him with an arm wrapped around his shoulder, drawing him away from the strangers around them* *turns to throw the man who hit his shoulder a dirty glare, yelling in his direction* Watch where the fuck you’re going-!!:

:*stares up at him with wide eyes, not expecting to be caught by the other, much less for him to get angry at a passer-by* Mello-- *carefully draws his attention, using his arm for leverage to get back on his feet* --It’s okay, I’m fine.:

:*the businessman ignores him - either that or he’s already too far off to have heard him, to which he frowns distastefully* Fucking idiot... *allows Near to use him to stand up, having half of a mind to go track that man down and demand an apology*:

:*can see the contemplation in his eyes, so he gently nudges him in the opposite direction, wanting him to keep going* Let’s keep going, we’re almost home and out of the rain. *even as they start moving he doesn’t mind being close to him, rationalizing it as better protection from that same situation happening again* -- Thank you, it was very kind of you to stand up for me.:

:People are assholes. *mutters as they continue on their way as his version of accepting the thanks, Near’s words somehow convincing him to leave it be, and he keeps his arm around him, now wary of everyone that passes them*:

:You’re very correct. *agrees with a nod of his head, but despite the setback, Mello’s added warmth is at least an advantage for him* But it’s best not to- make a scene. You’re my spouse, what involves you will involve me.:

:So we’re supposed to act married now? *crosses the crosswalk with him before turning the corner, the entrance of Near’s building now in view through the blurry rain*:

:That isn’t what I said. *seeing the view of his building gives him an unusual burst of energy, his legs carrying him faster than before to make it there* I just can’t have you getting in trouble, or else it will cause me problems.:

:How? *looks towards him with a frown, wondering why he’d be so against it* If I went after that guy, you wouldn’t have to do anything. I’d make sure that asshole would apologize to you - and that’s it.:

:The authorities could have been around, and a whole new set or problems could be brought on with a public disturbance. *realizes the likelihood of that is rare, but he’s mainly trying to save face on actually admiring that he’d do something like that for him at all*:

:*rolls his eyes* You really never have been out, have you? *with their pace, they quickly make it to the glass entrance doors, and he already anticipates the warmth as the doors open automatically for that* Maybe I know more about New York than you do.:

:*the doors slide open and Near basks in the warm, never feeling happier to have a controlled temperature in his life* *starts to ditch his now wet jacket, exposing his dewy face and semi-flat hair* It’d be normal for a gangster to know street behaviour, hm?:

:Is that what you think of me? *can’t help a subtle smile, taking off his own jacket and throwing it carelessly to the side, knowing from past experience that doing so eventually leads to it being cleaned and delivered to his room* Besides, you don’t know who I was or what I did before this. Don’t jump to conclusions. *despite his words, his tone is somewhat playful*:

:*can’t help the smile that happens in return, deciding to follow his lead and simply drop his jacket on top of the other* Of course, мужа. *walks a short distance before he’s back at the elevators, pressing the button and getting in as soon as the doors allow him*:

(‘Husband.’)

:*mocks* Жена. *now that he’s away from the rain, he stretches his arms above his head, following alongside Near to the elevators* *as he enters the elevators, he’s about to say something humorous, but suddenly, the sight of the other catches him off guard, and he stalls in the elevator, watching him for a brief moment, a strange, foreign feeling overcoming him* *immediately, he goes silent, moving from the awkward position to stand next to him* ...:

(‘Wife.’)

:*keys the floor they both dwell in with no problem, not registering anything wrong with Mello before he glances up at him* *his expression is innocuous and benign past his damp bangs, actually seeming concerned to the best of his abilities* Are you alright?:

: - *a little startled, quickly turning to look at him* - Yeah, I’m fine. *leans back against the back wall of the elevator, watching as the floors steadily move upwards, remaining quiet as he faces forward, trying to dissect the strange comfort he felt just now* ..:

:*doesn’t say anything more about it, turning his head back to stare at the metal doors before they open at the correct floor* *he walks out, waiting for Mello to accompany him until they head toward the door and inside the comfort of his home* --I know it doesn’t entertain you very much, but would you like to build a puzzle with me? After my work is complete, of course.:

: - No, I’m going to sleep. *his voice is cold, not bothering to make eye contact - somehow that makes it more difficult to say no* *immediately sets for his room, a bit dazed out in thought over this situation, not yet able to describe it or how he’s feeling* ... I’ll see you later.:

:..? *suddenly stills, watching him go without the slightest idea of why he suddenly acts like when they just met* *realizes that he shouldn’t care about this, but still a pang of hurt fills his chest* *his stoic voice returns as he goes over to his seat, his back turned to Mello* .. Yes, have a good night.:

:*pauses for a moment as he says that, stalling in his steps* ... *only a moment passes before he wonders why he’s even caring in the first place, a thought which propels him forward into motion and towards his room, set on doing whatever it takes to forget it*:

**around 11:00pm that night**

:*much later that evening, after dressing himself into a clean outfit and readying himself for the night, he eventually winds up at the grand opening of the new club just a few blocks down* *the atmosphere of the place certainly lives up to its hype, loud music reverberating throughout every corner played by a DJ set up at the front, people dancing and packed inside to the brim, neon lights flashing and moving to the rhythm, and alcoholic drinks being served all around, coming from the extravagant bar set up on the side*

*finds himself moving through the crowd until he ends up sitting at the bar area, looking around the room in search of someone worthwhile of his attention* *to help the time pass quicker, he orders a drink, and it’s not long until he’s sipping slowly from the glass, continuing to watch the crowd, his head beginning to feel dizzy from the atmosphere* ...:

;*after almost an hour of nonstop dancing, he finally breaks free from the crowd on the dance floor, not wanting to break a sweat, lest he look unpresentable* *takes a deep breath in, smiling at a few people as he walks his way to the bar, bending over the counter* Hey, can I get a sex on the beach, please? *gives the bartender a wink, grinning when he ignores the other orders he has to work on his*;

:*watches the redhead approach the bar with mild disinterest, though once he orders, he does grow amused that he has such an affect on others* *observes him through the corner of his vision, realizing quite suddenly the male’s outfit, hair, and overall persona seems to contrast starkly with someone like Near, and while that's a passing thought, he can't help but realize there might be some advantage to this* *turns in his seat, facing the bar as he takes a long drink from his glass, speaking purposefully to the male next to him* Sex on the beach? Why not something stronger? *gestures his own glass, a daring look in his expression*:

;*as he carelessly waits for his drink to be made, he notices the male beside him trying to get his attention, to which he of course engages in* *glances down at his drink and back up to its owner, a relatively healthy-looking blond with a thick accent he finds intriguing, and so he grins* Not my thing. A little goes a long way. *simply puts, just as the bartender is sliding him his drink, to which he easily catches in his hand, taking a sip from the straw with a grin* *sticks out his hand, offering it to the other* I’m Matt, light drinker, heavy dancer~;

:*smiles, though it’s mostly out of amusement over how he decides to introduce himself, and he extends his hand out, shaking Matt’s hand once before retracting it* Mello. *offers nothing more than the name for a moment, tilting his glass to his lips and taking a long sip, enjoying the way it stings his throat* You like it here?:

;*as another song blared on the speakers his foot taps his the best, generously drinking his beverage as the other speaks to him* It’s awesome, we haven't had a nice club on this side of the city. It’s mainly just a bunch of stiff wall-street buffs. *gives him another look with a playful grin* But you’re certainly not one of those, hm?;

((ya’ll both just thirsty hoes, wtf))

:*swivels his chair slightly in his direction, leaning against the back of his hand with an equally playful expression* I’d like to think not. *as he observes him, he almost contemplates backing out of the conversation, but he presses onwards, there being no logical reason to leave just yet, and so he offers half a smile* I was worried this place would just be another ‘The Underground’, but.. This place isn’t so bad. *makes it obvious he’s directly referring to him*:

((lol rite))

((GAGS. REAL CANON MATT GAGS AS WELL.))

;*his brow goes up at the small hint of flirting, and he can’t help but chuckle under his breath before taking another drink* *normally his type is a little different, those of the heavy muscle variety, but the blond’s appearance isn’t bad, so he indulges the other* *moves a little closer to him, propping his head up on his hand with a sly look* Don’t let my outfit fool you, ‘mister Mello’, I am a guy. Hope that doesn’t cramp your style.;

:That’s perfect, actually. *finishes off the last bit of his drink, pushing his glass to the side decisively, standing and offering his hand for the other to help him off* C’mon. Let’s dance.:

;* sees the other and immediately does the same, not wanting to waste it, but as soon as it's done he accepts the other's hand hopping off the stool with a grin* *its his turn to take the lead as he grabs his wrist, tugging him towards the dance floor where the music vibrates their surroundings, to which he easily starts to flow with* You sure you can dance? I heard Russian’s are pretty stiff~;

:Find out for yourself. *smirks, following him towards the dance floor, in amongst the sweaty, dancing bodies all around them* *once they've picked a spot, his body begins to move along with the rhythm, and he moves his hands to Matt’s waist, drawing him closer* Music here’s not shit either.:

;They hired one of the best dj’s in New York for the grand opening, so it's not just pop remixes. *easily adjusts to the new position, smiling as he lazily rests an arm on his shoulder, rolling his hips to the music* So are you new here?

((WOW I HONESTLY DIDN’T EXPECT TO BE SO UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THIS

ALSO I KINDA WANT MATT TO HAVE A FRENCH ACCENT TOO????? ))

((YES I WAS GONNA HAVE MELLO MENTION THAT BUT I DIDNT KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE IT))

:Fairly new. New enough that I haven't seen you yet. *draws him closer with arms wrapped around his waist, their bodies nearly touching as they continue to move to the rhythm* I'm assuming you are too. *referring to the accent in Matt’s voice*:

;*gives him a snarky grin as he nods* Bordeaux. I moved to New York a few years ago for school, but I don’t think my accent will ever disappear. *laughs a little, but as the song slowly delves into something more sensual, he has no fear to get up close on Mello’s body, his eyes sparkling with mischief* And why are you here, mon chéri?;

(#Triggered)

:Well, I like it. *smiles, doing his absolute best to focus on the male in front of him, and chase away other thoughts insisting on consuming his attention* *knows enough French to understand the small bit Matt offers, and simultaneously he allows the other to come closer, their hips swaying together* I wanted to live exciting life in big city. I wanted its experience. *leans forward, pressing their foreheads together, speaking with a hint of sensuality - but somehow, this situation still isn’t yielding the desired, mind-numbing results* .. I think I’m doing alright so far.:

;*didn’t expect the sudden intimate touch, his eyes wide, only able to murmur* Whoa... *without any warning he puts some separation between them before he’s suddenly taking his hand, leading him in a different direction away from the crowd, toward a dimly lit hallway* *he doesn’t make it far before he’s willingly pressing himself against a wall while pulling the other in with arms draped around his neck* I can’t resist a smooth talker.. Wanna make out?;

:*follows him, idly moving his arms around him to push their bodies flush together, consciously making the effort to make his motions appear desperate* *though, as soon as Matt speaks, he’s suddenly reminded of just earlier today, when he’d been instead kissing Near, and heat rises to his face, replaying the memory in his head - and it’s almost frightening just how affected he is, not ever having been so before* *his hesitation is somewhat obvious, remembering the promise he made Near, but not just that, somehow following through with Matt just won’t yield the same results as it would with Near, a realization that’s even more frightening* .. Matt. *slowly pulls away* .. I’m sorry. *says simply for the moment, before feeling the need to explain further, but vaguely so in a way that might make sense to Matt* ... I think I like someone.:

;*the moment he sees hesitation in Mello’s eyes, and his voice say his name softly, he knows exactly what’s about to happen* *his hands slowly drift to his side, looking somewhat confused as to why he’d even start this, but as he explains, it makes complete sense* *relaxes against the wall, giving him a small, sympathetic smile* Hey, it’s okay. We all get- what is the term- cold feet. I’ve been eyeing a hot redhead all night, but I’ve been too afraid to even say hello~ *laughs a little, bringing his hand back up to caress his cheek, following it with a small pinch* Don’t be afraid of your feelings, they are there for a reason.;

:Hmph. *grows flustered, feeling absolutely ridiculous over all this, and he has half a mind to just continue what they started anyway* .. I’ve never liked someone. I’ve never - felt this way about someone. *takes a step away, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking out towards the crowd - as he does, he immediately notices a tall, muscular redhead* .. Is that him?:

;? *looks in the direction he’s pointing in, seeing that it in fact is him, and his eyes quickly turn away, as if he’s not worthy, and he goes more bashful than the confident, vixen-like state he’s been showing all night* You caught me.. ;

:Either you talk to him, or I’ll tell him to. *sounds very firm, giving Matt no other option than to approach him, but he’s also doing this because he wants an easier way to end this conversation and quietly leave*:

;*currently walking towards the bar before sitting down in the much-too-small seat, mouthing something in a calm, polite manner to the bartender, who then begins mixing a drink for him*;

;*looks rather astonished, not used to such direct demands, but he slowly begins to agree, looking at his target while taking a deep breath* -! *he’s about to move, but just then he thinks of something, turning to Mello and diving into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a cell phone he knew was there* *sees the phone is of course locked, so he goes to the phone screen to tap in a number* *once he’s finished he hands the phone to him with a bright smile* Let’s still be friends, okay? I want to know all about this love situation.;

:*frowns, this being a little forward from a stranger, but something about Matt seems trustworthy - and beyond that, not annoying like most people he meets* *nods after a moment, stuffing his phone back in his pocket, and he offers a brief smile* Whatever. Go get your lover boy.:

;*with a new sense of optimism he nods, starting to walk out, but as a final goodbye for the evening he turns over his shoulder to look at him one last time* Always practice what you preach, blondie. *gives him a small wink before he sets out of the hallway, going directly toward the hulking red male with a saunter, sliding gracefully beside him, nonchalant as he comments beside him* A cocktail? Why not something a little stronger?;

;*turns to the redhead speaking to him, and immediately he smiles, most certainly liking what he sees, the cocktail remaining untouched in his hand* Oh? What do you suggest?;

:*once he ensures Matt is completely distracted, he sets off for the exit - but not before taking his phone out once more and typing a quick text to Matt so that he has his number, then stuffing it back in his pocket* *doesn’t turn back as he leaves, exiting into the comparatively quiet, but still bustling street, immediately walking towards Near’s headquarters with purpose*:

:*just after a few hours of slumber, he unfortunately begins to toss in his sleep, rousing awake just enough to comprehend* *frowns, upset to been awoken, not because of losing sleep, but because of the bitter way he and Mello had left each other, even after what he considered a pleasant evening* ... *stares up at the ceiling, wondering what he could have done differently to keep his attention, and why that matters to him* ...:

:*it doesn’t take long until he winds up back at the building, into the elevator, and up to the floor his room is on - and Near’s is on* *somehow, he finds himself directly in front of Near’s door, simply standing there in the dark, not even remembering having approached it, the silence and lack of distraction allowing all these feelings to resurface* ...:

:*rolls on his side, trying to convince himself that sleep is more important than the useless thoughts he’s having, about someone he paid to be here no less, but even still, he can’t help their position on the forefront of his mind* *sighs out quietly, his hand clutching the pillow, his voice quiet but filled with confusion and longing* Mello...:

((this is so dramatic))

: .. *his hand reaches out towards the doorknob, as though it has a will of its own, and he gently grasps the metal piece, impulsively twisting it and pushing the door open, exposing another dark room* *this being his first time ever being in Near’s room, he looks around, his eyes already adjusted, and he soon finds the bed and a lump beneath the blankets to one side, indicating a person beneath* *his breath catches, and for some strange reason, he feels nervous for once* ...:

((one day they gon have kids and kids gon ask how they met))

((well you see......))

:*nearly jumps when he hears his door come open, not expecting that in the slightest, silently wondering if the other actually heard him call his name* *stays perfectly still though, not wanting to make any indication that he’s awake, wondering why the other has brought himself here* ..:

:*approaches the bed, and for a moment he thinks the other is sleeping, but the rise and fall of his chest indicates that he’s not quite there yet* ... *moves to the side he’s resting on, leaning to reach down, swiping the back of his now ungloved fingers against his hair, pushing the white locks from his face* ..:

:*the sudden touch takes him off guard, simply staring up at him, only seeing minor details due to the increased darkness* *since he knows the other is aware that he’s okay, he slowly mumbles, unsure of his words* .. You didn't want to be around me.:

:What? *murmurs without thinking first, retracting his hand and simply standing there, watching him through the dark* .. It’s not that. *decides against admitting the full truth, whatever the hell that is, and a short silence passes before he continues* ... I went out tonight.:

:*slowly sits up in his bed, wanting to be comfortable with speaking to the other, even if what he says leaves a bad tastes in his mouth* *looks down in his lap, unconsciously fiddling with his hands, his voice coming out a little hollow and analytical* ... Were you safe at the very least?:

:.. *quietly analyzes him as the moment passes, searching for a hint of what Near’s feeling, almost wondering if he feels betrayed* ... *once he speaks, his voice grows quiet, eyes averting* .. I didn’t sleep with anyone. It was boring, so I left.:

:..? *that certainly wasn’t the answer he expected, as made obvious by his eyes coming up to the other, trying to search for any notion of a lie in the other* *when he can’t find anything, he can’t suppress the feeling of relief, so much that his body relaxes, but he keeps the same voice* Why did you go in the first place? You promised.:

: ... *the question renders him speechless, and he finally looks at him, all the while trying to figure out a way to answer him that doesn’t accidentally convey anything too - unwanted* ... *takes the moment to sit down on the bedding, next to him, and once he speaks, he knows his answer is vague* .. I thought it would be fine.:

:You thought it would be fine to betray my trust? *his brows furrow together, the answer not satisfying whatever* *for some reason, it hurts him more than he expected to know he didn’t care about his feelings* .. I told you explicitly I didn’t want you to go, I-- tried, so you wouldn’t go.:

:You tried so I wouldn’t fuck someone. *responds bluntly, suddenly irritated* You only didn’t want me to go because of that. All I did was listen to music and have drink. *doesn’t understand why he’s bothering to explain himself, but the guilt inside him continues to fester* - I won’t go back. It’s fucking boring anyway. *adds on, internally cringing as he knows it’s a lame excuse*:

-- :*stares at him for a moment, slightly surprised that he would try such a pathetic excuse with intentions of making him feel better* ... Okay. *says simply, slowly sinking his way back in bed, turning on his opposite side* Feel free to rest, I’m sure you’re tired.:

:... *contemplates leaving that moment, but something has him cemented to the spot* .. *impulsively, he reaches down, untying his shoes and tossing them to the side, shrugging his jacket off and letting it join the floor* *grateful that he wore somewhat comfortable clothing, besides the leather pants, but that’s the last thing on his mind as he yanks the covers up, climbing under them and resting his head against the pillow*:

((i wanna find a picture of near’s room))

:-? *as he feels the bed dip beside him he turns around, and his eyes open just slightly at the sight of Mello in his bed* - What are you doing?:

:You said, ‘Feel free to rest’. *comments as though it were obvious, but there’s also an underlying tone daring him to suggest there’s more to it than that* *as Near turns to face him and he can see him much clearer, more closely, and he almost regrets doing something as ridiculous as this, especially with these ridiculous feelings*:

:*speechless, only able to focus on the other’s eyes as he wonders if this is a ploy to rid the guilt he must be feeling, or even an apology* .. *once again feelings open inside him that he pushes deep down inside, too afraid to begin to try and understand them* ... *decides it doesn’t hurt to let this happen, just this once, so he keeps quiet, getting situated in a more permanent position* .. Don’t ruffle up my pillows too much.:

:Fuck off. *frowns, and he responds by grabbing at the pillow beneath him, ruffling it up before leaning his head back against it* *somehow, the humor deflates the situation, and he can’t help but smile, unable to repress the short, quiet laugh that follows*:

:*a little in awe at hearing the other laugh, that not being something he’s heard since his arrival, and somehow it makes him want to smile* *feels strange with another person in his bed after going so many years alone, but as he examines the other, he doesn’t find it as much of a problem as he assumed* ... To make up for your misbehaviour, you’ll take me to the tourist attractions tomorrow as a proper spouse should.:

:*the conversation is a nice distraction, he muses* I was already going to. *truthfully, he had been, finding it ridiculous that someone can live in New York City without ever having traveled farther than a quarter mile radius* Where first?:

:*isn’t sure what’s considered a tourist attraction other than the obvious, which he says* The Statue of Liberty. *yawns a little, his eyes settling lower as he grows tired once again* ... Я боюсь, что мне может быть одиноко, когда ты уйдешь.:

((‘I’m worried that I may be lonely when you leave’))

:*it takes a moment to realize he's not speaking English, and what he says catches him off guard, making him pause* … Так почему ты привел меня сюда?:

(‘So the reason you brought me here was true?’)

:*immediately shakes his head, even if he can’t see it* До сих пор я не чувствовал себя одиноким. Я не думал, что когда- *the remainder of his sentence is abnormally quiet* Растите, как вы.:

(‘I didn’t feel lonely until now. I didn’t think I’d ever- Grow to like you’)

((The grow to like you has a more serious translation than he thinks))

:*eyes widen, and his breath catches in his throat, coughing a little* - Sorry. *offers quickly in English, simultaneously wondering if Near even knows what he said or even meant it* .. *responds, quiet* .. Тогда, возможно, вам следовало быть более осторожным, когда вы решили купить меня. Могла бы получить девушку, так как ты только в мужчинах. Тогда они не будут тебе нравиться.:

(‘Then maybe you should have been more careful when you decided to purchase me. Could've gotten a girl, since you're only into men. Then they're be no chance you'd like her.’)

:*glares at him for a moment* Я не просто люблю мужчин, я же вам говорил. *after that his face softens again, too tired to think about being irritated* Я купил тебя, чтобы быть противоположным тому, чего хотели мои родители. Я не думал, что мы поладим.:

(‘I don't exclusively like men, I told you that.’

‘I purchased you in order to be the opposite of what my parent’s wanted. I didn't expect us to get along.’)

:*his eyes sharpen into a glare, but it only lasts a moment before his expression softens just slightly* Я тоже не ожидал, что ты мне понравишься. *suddenly realizes what he initially says, backtracking to it, unable to help the curiosity* Итак, вы были с девушкой раньше?:

(‘I didn't expect to like you either.’

‘So, you've been with a girl before?’)

:.. Никогда. *doesn't want to deal with his mockery, so he turns his head into the pillow, mumbling* Вы не должны быть в отношениях, как пол.:

(‘Never’

‘You don't have to be in a relationship to like a certain gender.’)

:Hm. *a moment passes before he reaches over, pushing against the side of his head, wondering why he's suddenly facing away* .. Ты прячешься.:

(‘You’re hiding.’)

:*looks at him without any chance to not as he’s holding his head up, having to stare into the other’s eyes with a bashful look mixed with irritation that very few could translate* - You’ll make fun of me. You mock me because of my lack of experience.:

:Я - I don't fucking care. *responds truthfully, wondering why he's making a big deal out of it, and he rests his hand beneath his head to prevent him from looking away again, despite it being a childish maneuver* I’m just curious. That's all.:

:... *surrenders to the other, simply relaxing his head against his hand, too tired to try and struggle past it* I don’t know that gender matters to my feelings. It just so happens that those who I enjoy the company of have been men.:

:’Men’? *notices the plurality of the word, though he's only picking* ... Where are you from, anyway? *realizes the entire time he's been there, he's never asked, and at this point he decides to not bother wondering why his curiosity has grown this much, steadily growing tired*:

:*thinks about the question, and if it’s really alright to trust someone with that intimate information* ... Japan. We also lived in the United Kingdom for a few years, but the majority of my life was lived in the Asia.:

:.. You don’t look Japanese. *scrutinizes him, though the more he looks, the more he can somewhat see it, but it’s definitely not obvious*:

:I took more after my mother. *says bluntly, though even he has some Japanese descent* He was born and raised in England, hence why we lived there for a short time.:

:He? *points the word out, knowing he didn't mistranslate, simultaneously adjusting himself in the bed to get more comfortable, tugging the blankets up* Your parents are both men?:

:*all he does is give a simple nod, wondering if the other has an issue with such- which, wouldn't be a problem considering why he’s here* Does that make you uncomfortable? Russia still prohibits same-sex pregnancy, I realize.:

((Get topical))

:For all I know, my parents were both men. *rationalizes that, but it does remind him of the many horror stories he's heard whilst growing up, but he never thought about it much beyond that* .. No. I've told you; romance is distraction, whether it's between man and woman or man and man. I don't particularly care either way. And I assume you weren't actually born in Russia.:

:You are correct. *admires Mello’s open-mindedness, it being a rare trait in an area where everyone is forced fed the same information* *smiles slightly, deciding to tease him* -Is that why you so easily accepted to bear my child?:

: - What? *frowns, pulling his hand away, a short huff immediately following* I never said I'd get pregnant - Or pregnant you. Obviously I wouldn't have allowed earlier to happen without some means of protection.:

((he means impregnate))

:Impregnate. *smiles a little wider, amused by his slip-ups and frustration* Are you saying you’d like to have sex with me?:

:*the correction falls deaf on his ears at Near’s next statement, and once again, his breath catching* - I didn’t imply that. All I said was if such thing were to happen, we wouldn’t be stupid about it.:

:*only gives him a small hum in agreement, but he can’t help but be satisfied by just his thought over the matter, no matter how intimidating sex is* *thinks about that as he stares at the other, and without thinking he reaches out to him* -- Maybe we could start with being close. Just for now.:

:*hesitates, wondering if this is Near’s way of making an excuse to indulge in his feelings - whatever those might be* ... *moves closer, drawing him closer, and wrapping an arm around his middle* .. Close enough?:

:*doesn’t know what he expects when Mello wraps an arm around him, but to his surprise he doesn’t dislike the feeling like he thought he would, it in fact feels warm, almost inviting* *gives a small nod, resting his arms between them* You’re not uncomfortable, are you?:

:I wouldn’t have laid down with you if I was. .. Idiot. *adds on with a mumble, resting his cheek against Near’s forehead, looking out into the dark* Besides.. *a yawn makes its way out, and he closes his eyes, feeling rather exhausted, as well as strangely at peace* ... You’re lonely.:

:I’m not- *the yawn is contagious, and he easily settles in the position, forgetting about battling his accusation, even if he doesn't believe it* .. Let’s sleep. I’ll need all of my energy for tomorrow.:

:What’s tomorrow? *mumbles tiredly, slowly being lulled to sleep by the other’s warmth* - Tourism. *offers simply, realizing what he means* .. Yeah, whatever. Let’s sleep.:

:*all the thoughts are easily dulled by his exhaustion, and he simply enjoys the pleasant feeling of the other’s hold as he closes his eyes* Goodnight then, Mello.:

:.. Good night. *responds, his voice quiet and void of his bite, not even a subtle trace to be found* *the moment he speaks, he feels himself drift off, consciousness fading* ...:

:*after another two weeks have gone by, seemingly in a blink of an eye, Near find himself in the place where he normally is, with his blocks* *the past two weeks have brought Mello and himself closer than what he assumed would ever be possible for him. Their arguing was cut down dramatically, and one way or another they always ended up in the same bed, just like a routine. Things were content, and he was truly beginning to enjoy Mello’s company* *he stares at legos, barely able to focus as he thinks over how, after this day, things will go back to normal, and the blond will be out of his life for good* ... *internally he battles against his feelings, telling himself that this will be for the best, and after the plans and instructions he gave Mello, he remember how harsh the other can be, and it will make this ordeal easier for him to let go* *every so often he checks up at the clock, making sure the time doesn’t get away from him until his parents arrive* ---Are you almost ready?:

((The plan he’s mentioning is how Mello is going to act really rude and stuff))

:*currently residing in a comfortable chair, one leg crossed over the other as he has a book propped up on his knee, idly reading it* *secretly though, he has to refrain from allowing his apathetic expression to slip, growing more amused over his idea as the time draws nearer* *looks over towards Near, before noting the clock* Been ready.:

:Are you sure? *looks up at him with complete seriousness* I don't want you to do anything too crude, these are my parents after all.:

:I’m going to act ‘normal’, just like you asked me to. *raises an eyebrow, feeling almost offended* What the hell could I do that would be considered ‘crude’?:

:I’m not sure, like put a gun in my father’s face? *mumbles as he goes back to his blocks, trying to distract himself from all of these thoughts running through his head* Just behave, but not too much. And--:

*a few knocks sound off the front door*

:--! They’re here. *looks at Mello quickly as he stands up* Go back to your room until I call for you.:

:*rolls his eyes, closing the book and standing up, beginning towards the door exiting into the hallway* Whatever. Let me know. *disappears into the hallway and towards his room, shutting the door behind him*:

:*once Mello is out of the way, he takes a deep breath and moves towards the door, opening it wide to expose both of his parents* Mother, Father. Welcome back.:

“*looks down at his son with warm eyes, his hand swiftly going to swoop down and pat Near’s head* Thank you very much, Near. We’re happy to see you again.”

“*as he enters, he sees nothing has changed except for perhaps a few more piles of books in the room than usual, but his focus immediately goes to Near, but he doesn’t offer to embrace him, knowing if he did he’d be pushed away* It’s good to see you, Nate. How has it been going?”

:Fine. *answers simply, not needing to give anything away so quickly* *goes back to where he was before the others showed up, starting up once more* How was your meeting with the commissioner?:

“Unnecessary, as always. *mumbles as he sits on the couch nearby, legs pulled up to his chest* Things were much easier when I could handle meetings over a computer screen.”

“At least it wasn’t that long of a meeting. We handled it rather quickly - Mostly, they wanted to confirm information we’d already discussed over email. *decides to move the subject matter towards Near, curious* How’s work?”

:Nothing of true importance to speak about. *says with a small shrug, that being at least true on the business half of his life* Everything has been relatively calm.:

“Good to hear. *responds simply, knowing Near would handle things either way* And you’re doing well? Personally?”

:*gives his mother a small nod, but he sees this as a way to get their attention* Better than normal. I’ve decided to take father’s advice, after all.:

“ - *that certainly catches his attention, and he wonders what advice he’s referring to* - Oh? And what’s that? *laughs a little* Surely not that you’d go out and start dating. Are you thinking about moving with us to Japan?”

:No, father. *a little perturbed that he’s still bringing that up, but he ignores it to get the satisfaction in the end* I did listen to your advice on wanting me to find a relationship.:

“*eyes widen at that, certainly not expecting something so completely abnormal for Near to happen in just a short time since they’ve been gone* You’re- dating? When did you meet this person?”

:Shortly after you went back to Japan. I took father’s advice to heart, since it was so important to you. But we aren’t dating. *looks right at Light now, a certain smug look in his eyes* I’m married.:

“ - *his breath catches, that word being the last he expected to hear* - What? *wonders if Near’s just pulling his leg, or if this is some sort of scheme to convince him that somehow he’s married, because the other alternative is impossible, especially considering the time restraint* - Married? It's only been a couple of months. Who could you have met and fallen in love with in just that short amount of time?”

((do they all speak English or Japanese))

:*the expression that his father gives is exactly what he wanted, but he easily hides the smile he wants to show off* Why don't you meet him yourself? He’s here, after all. His primary language is Russian, but he’s proficient in English so I would prefer you speak as such.:

“*still in a state of shock to hear such news from his son, of all people* *has a bad feeling about this, knowing who he is, and knowing his primarily goal is to clash with his father, so he can’t imagine the person to be savory* .. Let’s meet him then.”

:*stands up at that, walking to the hallway, only stopping at the edge before he calls out* Mello, my parents are here. You can come out. *turns back to the living room, his eyes mainly on his father* Don’t panic, he’s slightly- rough around the edges.:

“*at the mention that his husband is here, something he doubted would actually be true, his surprise grows - but at Near’s description, he grows concerned, wondering what exactly that constitutes* *turns to L, wondering if he's thinking the same thing* ..”

:*disguises his crude smile as a gentle, inviting one, flattening out the sweater he’s donning and straightening the collar around his neck* *does one last check in the mirror for his hair, which is perfectly in place, hanging freely, but it's been pushed away from his face, one side tucked behind his ear, a careful amount of hairspray holding it in place to look put together* *honestly, as he observes himself in the mirror, he can hardly recognize his appearance, but that's all for the better, and so once he's satisfied, he turns away and heads into the hallway, reaching the large doors entering into Near’s office, eyes first going to the males who must be his parents* *easily detects which one is Near’s father, based on his dress and stuck up expression, offering his hand out with a smile* Hello, it’s nice to finally meet you. How are you?:

“*at the male’s presence, he’s surprised - but certainly pleased - by the picture perfect appearance to which he considers fine, and so he smiles brightly, reaching out to shake his hand, obviously happy in how this situation is turning out so far* I’m well. It's nice to meet you too; why is it we haven't heard about you yet?”

((‘Dress’ referring to his manner of dressing, not like an actual dress btw))

((I know Haley xD))

:*instead of the person expression of mortification, he sees his father is actually pleased, and immediately the smug look in his eyes dies* *immediately looks to see why he’d ever give Mello a look like that, but his eyes widen as he realizes that ‘Mello’ did not walk out of the bedroom* *actually speechless as he stares at him, not even knowing he had such an outfit* This- is Mihael.. *knows he has to say something, hoping that this is just an addition to the real plan* -- I wanted you to be surprised and be able to meet him in person.:

“*just like Light he is pleasantly surprised to see the person who walks out of the hallway, it not at all what he was dreading to see* *relaxes slightly, but naturally he still keeps his reservations until he can know the other well enough to make a decision* It’s nice to meet you, Mihael. My name is L, and my husband is Light.”

:*has to hide his smirk from seeing Near’s reaction out of the corner of his eye, and he moves to L now, offering his hand to shake* Your son has told me much about you.:

“Has he? I assume good things. *smiles, giving L a look that suggests he’s pleased, but also not yet making a decision over whether he likes him or not, especially considering what Near said in warning* How about we continue this conversation over lunch? We could eat here, if you'd like. *looks to Near, considering his feelings*”

:Anything is fine by me. Though, I have been trying to convince Near to go out more - Which has surprisingly been successful. *smiles, looking towards Near and reaching out to take hold of his hand* We've been visiting tourist destinations around New York recently.:

:*slightly frigid as he looks toward Mello, not able to get over this new persona, and more so how he’s ruining what he had intended for this day* *feelings trapped by this, knowing he has to go along with it or else he’ll make himself the fool, so he takes the other’s hand, mumbling* ... Going out with fine.:

“*his eyes go up, impressed, as they’ve tried several times and never convinced their son to go out* Well then, I suppose that’s what we’ll do. Light, you did mention a restaurant on our way here that you wanted to attend.”

“You’re right. *nods, recalling the restaurant seemed rather nice, and a perfect setting to have their first dinner with the new husband* I think it's Italian cuisine. How does that sound?”

:*smiles and offers a short nod, simultaneously linking his fingers with Near’s and offering a short squeeze, though rather than out of affection, it's out of amusement, enjoying playing this little game he's created* That sounds perfect.:

“*with everyone in agreeance, he stands up, nudging Light with his foot to get up and moving towards the door* Let’s get going, I suddenly have a large appetite.”

:*reluctantly agrees, and he’s about to follow before he sits back, holding Mello in place also* Mihael, will you go with me to m-- our room? I left my shoes in there. *doesn’t wait to get an answer before he pulls him along through the hallway, not even bothering to go into the room as he just turns around toward him, looking none too pleased* What do you think you’re doing? You’re supposed to make them hate you.:

:*as he’s dragged into the hallway, he finally allows the façade to drop* *smirks, looking down at him with utter amusement* I thought it would be - more fun this way. *gestures to their link fingers, holding their hands up* Consider it revenge.:

:*gives him an incredulous look, fearing everything that he’s doing will only make things worse for him when he leaves* You can’t- We had an agreement, Mello. Do you truly want to risk your freedom for revenge?:

:*raises an eyebrow, though his threat for some reason doesn’t strike the same chord of anger as it usually does* Do you honestly want me sticking around anyway? However I act today doesn’t make difference.:

:... *no matter how he rationalizes it in his head, the nagging decision to tell the truth sets priority in his mind, but thankfully he has enough sense to ignore it* ... Fine. Do what you want, but you’ll slip up at some point today. I’ll get what I want.:

:We’ll see about that. *offers another smile, one that suggests he knows he’ll win this, and he brings Near’s hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his knuckles* C’mon, spouse. Let’s go out to eat, like a normal family.:

“*having been wandering around Near’s office, taking a look at things, he decides to head into the hallway to see what’s taking so long* *once he sees the two in the hallway, he smiles, comfortably leaning against the door as he gets their attention* Nate, are you almost ready?”

:*at the name, the corner of his lip curls up in amusement, giving Near a look* - Yes, Nate, do you want me to get your shoes for you?:

:-? *suddenly grows embarrassed and irritated, both from having his father see them in a seemingly intimate setting and having his real name exposed so easily* *retracts his hand from Mello, but trying to keep the kind facade, wanting Mello to be the only cause of his mess up* Please. I wouldn’t want to keep mother waiting any more.:

:Of course. *offers him a sweet look, one that he ensures Near’s father will see, before disappearing into Near’s room, smile immediately vanishing as he looks around, not having a clue where Near keeps his things* *finds a closet door, sliding it open and finding a neat collection of extra clothing and shoes, and it’s not much, but he hasn’t seen Near wearing any of it* *grabs the only pair of tennis shoes he sees, before heading back towards the hallway*:

“*before Mello returns, he offers a knowing smile to Near, waiting a moment before speaking* .. He seems like a decent man. How did you find someone like that?”

((internet))

:-- Halle introduced me to him after I told her of your advice. *mumbles the only logical excuse he could muster, watching the door to wait until the other arrives with his shoes* .. You’re clearly happy about this.:

“Well, I’m happy you took my advice. *steps closer to him, reaching out to gently hold his arm* I’m proud of you for going out of your comfort zone. Don’t you think it’s worth it?”

:*returns with the shoes in hand and a fake, gentle expression* Here, would you like me to put them on for you? *gestures the shoes for Near to see*:

:*doesn’t answer his father right away, it actually forcing him to think about his real-life situation* ... I suppose it was. *gives Mello a dazed look, but he quickly comes to, realizing he might as well use the other while he has no reason to deny him* Yes, thank you.:

“*comes stalking back to the hallway, angrily chewing on his thumb as he tugs Light on the collar* I went all the way to the entrance before I realized you weren’t following me.”

“ - *raises an eyebrow, frowning* Do you not actually look to see if I’m there? *takes a few steps closer to L, before pulling his phone from his pocket* I’ll call the car and let them know we’re ready to leave again.”

:*as Light and L aren’t looking, he shoots Near a quiet, dirty look, leaning down on his knee and forcing his foot up and off the ground, pushing it into the correct shoe, before doing the same with the other* - Perfect. *despite the sweet tone, his expression is still laced with annoyance* Ready?:

((light’s referring to a private car))

:*sees the look that Mello gives him, and that suddenly sparks a plan in his mind* *doesn’t give an ounce to Mello, only responding in a nice tone back while taking his hand again* Of course, dear.:

“*temporarily distracted by the two in the corner, specifically his son, as he’s never seen him like this before, but he only smiles* Let’s go then. -And hopefully everyone will follow me this time.”

“*as they step into one of the large, living rooms on the same floor as Near’s main area of living, he relaxes into one of the love seats, allowing room for L to sit next to him if he desires* Well, that was actually pretty good. I’m glad we went there.”

:*nods in agreement, despite the fact the food was less than enjoyable - and he had to actually eat all his food before getting dessert* *sits on the love seat opposite of Light, facing him, going against the instinct to sit improperly and instead sitting up straight with one leg crossed simply over the other, and he gestures for Near to follow him* Yes, I’ve always been fan of Italian cuisine. It was wonderful suggestion on your part.:

:*wants to roll his eyes at Mello’s formal way of speaking, assuming he took lessons from a textbook or television* It was fine. *sits down beside him nonetheless, contemplating how exactly he should enact his plan, but for now, he goes with the flow of conversation * -- Father, Mother, you should tell Mihael what you do. He’s certainly a fan of the line of work:

“Oh? *muses as he sits in his normal position on the couch, intrigued* I am surprised that would request that, Near. I would assume it would scare anyone away.”

:*as Near sits, he places an arm around his shoulders* Scared? *smiles, looking curious, though he does have an idea as to what it is, considering Near’s line of work* Well, what is it?:

“*looks to L, and he knows he can trust Near, but even so, he won’t release too much detail* L and I are in the same line of work. I’m the head chief of the Japanese police, and L is a private detective. Though, we work together on many cases.”

: - Interesting. That sounds fascinating. *reaches forward, picking up one of the cookies on a tray resting on the table between them, a small set up of snacks and tea prepared for them when they first arrived* So, very similar to Nate’s work. *at the name, he offers a quick glance to Near through his peripherals, having full intentions of discussing it later*:

:*amused by the reaction, that is until he calls him by his first name* Near, Mihael. You know I prefer that--:

“*pipes in, knowing how to settle Near before he gets upset, having plenty of experience with him and Light* Near, of course, is my successor. I’m rather good at what I do, so I would have needed to find one either way. But luckily Light found me first so that I didn’t need to look so far. *finds his own humor rather hilarious, but sees only pity smiles, so he continues* For now, Near controls everything in select countries as a primary, and also helps with cases I have no time for.”

:*gives a small nod in acknowledgement, turning a strand of hair around his finger* Russia in particular is my mother’s dominion, so hopefully you were clean of any incriminating charges before you left or it would mean trouble for you- *gives Mello a small smile, seemingly to be a joke to his parents, but the other should see the truth in it* hm, Mihael?:

: - Right. *chuckles in response, jokingly adding on* You got me. *secretly, he feels almost nervous, the presence of especially L a bit intimidating, but so far it looks like he’s easily fooled both of them*:

“*laughs shortly, the idea that Mello of all people could be truly a criminal borderline hilarious, especially considering after the entire afternoon, he’s deemed him to be perfectly suitable for Near* Though, L, didn’t you say the mafia there has been causing trouble for you?”

“I wouldn’t go as far to say they’ve been troubling me. *mumbles, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip, his expression growing a little annoyed* But they certainly have gotten unruly as of late. I’m suspecting their leader has been MIA for a while now, and they’re just now beginning to really feel the affects of it.”

:Really, mother? *seems interested, even if he already knows all of this- after all, he does have the former boss under his roof* Then it should be easy for you to break it apart while it’s weak. *gives a small glance to Mello* Or perhaps the boss was the cause of the decline in the first place.:

:*looks to Near with only the slightest hint of surprise, not wanting to give any indication that something’s wrong to the others, but he’s wondering how on earth he found out about his connections with the mafia, or if he’s just a hell of a good guesser* *laughs it off, taking a bite from the cookie in his hand* I don’t know much about these things.:

“Well, you’re an author, right? You don’t keep up with these things, nor do you even have the ability to access that information. *looks to L, responding to his suggestion* - You know, I think you’re right. From what you’ve shown me, it’s almost exactly like what happened in Italy.”

“Ah, yes, that was quite a fortunate situation for me. *smiles, happy to recall that case for him* It was only a short time before their entire base was revealed.”

:*doesn’t respond to Mello’s look, only focusing on his parents to keep from giving him any answers* The old boss should be thankful if he isn’t already dead, your wrath is particularly strong, mother. I would hate to be on the receiving end of it.:

:*reaches over to take hold of Near’s hand, disguising the movement as gentle, but almost unnoticeably squeezing it tightly, obviously none-too-pleased* Right. It’s hard to believe that sort of thing actually exists.:

“Crime lurks everywhere. *reaches forward, grabbing one of the glasses of water set out for them, and he also takes one of the pastries, instinctively offering it to L* Even in places it doesn’t seem like it. People are very good at hiding it, but not good enough.”

“*is ready to roll his eyes at Light’s dramatic speech, but the sweets dangled in front of him distract any thought from that, taking it and effortlessly stuffing it into his mouth while still talking* Enough of this talk, surely Mihael isn’t interested in our work. This is about catching up with our son.”

:*wants to frown at the sudden pressure on his hand, but he keeps a solid face, not wanting to give off like something is wrong* *squeezes his hand back as hard as he can, all the while thinking of anything that may set the other off* -- We’re talking of having a child.:

“ - Already? *frowns, setting down the glass after taking a sip, looking concernedly towards Near* Isn’t it a little too soon? I wouldn’t want you to rush into anything.”

: - He’s right. *continues, as though further explaining what Near means* It’s something we both want, but you’re right, it’s something that won’t happen for a while. *turns to Near, smiling, but there’s hidden anger behind his expression* - Right, Na - I mean, Near?:

:Right. *agrees with a cool tone, making no stands against the other, but his glance goes back to his parent’s, knowing exactly how to hit the other* We would prefer to wait until Mihael’s ready to bear the child.:

“Oh? *seems slightly surprised by that, noticing the type of man Mihael seems to be, but he isn’t too quick to judge* Good for you then. As long as you two are sure, the right time will come.”

:*his grip on Near’s hand tightens, anger steadily consuming him that he would make such an assumption* - Is there something wrong with you bearing child?:

“*the somewhat harsh tone from Mello surprises him, but since it was only one statement, he easily excuses it, figuring it must be a touchy subject* *interrupts, before Near can respond* Well, you have all the time in the world to think about this. You’re both still very young.”

:*easily ignores his father, seeing that he’s struck the chord in Mello that he expected, so he goes along with it* I’ve already discussed this with you. I need to focus on my career, but beings that your an author, you’re able to take the necessary time to properly rest. You’re my wife, after all.:

“-? *a little surprised at that, as he thankfully can say he’s never assumed anything from his son, but he never expected the bold decisions* *speaks up, noticing that both of them are getting more animated than what he’s seen over the afternoon* -Perhaps you shouldn’t concern yourself over this now.”

:*scoffs, that igniting an immediate fire in him, and he snaps back, as though having no control over his words* Ну, в зависимости от того, как ты, бля, шумешь и действуешь, когда ты под мной, кажется, черт возьми, ты предпочитаешь быть трахнутым, чем я.:

“*doesn’t understand enough Russian to properly decipher the lingo, and while he does catch a few words, he’s mostly worried over the tone he exhibits* - Alright, I think you need to calm down. - Why don’t we move onto something else to talk about?”

(‘Well, based on how you fucking sound and act when you're under me, it sure as hell seems you'd much prefer being fucked than me.’)

“*unlike Light he is proficient in the other’s language, it immediately putting a dark expression on his face, straightening his figure as he calls out quickly* Mihael, that isn’t at all appropriate to say in front of his parents.”

:Ой? *speaks as if he isn’t phased whatsoever by his words, so much that he leans in to whisper in his ear, not wanting his parent’s, moreso his mother, to hear* Я владею тобой, ты будешь делать все, что я скажу.:

(‘I own you, you will do everything I say.’)

:*looks in almost panic towards Light and L once L speaks, having forgotten they were even there* *returns to Near, sneering at the pathetic attempt to enrage him further (though, it does work)* *responds quietly, threateningly* Вы бы предпочли рассказать своим родителям, как мы на самом деле встретились?:

“*looks towards L, concerned, demanding answers* What’s going on? What did he say?”

(‘Would you prefer tell your parents how we actually met?’)

((I just rly don’t think Light knows Russian btw, he’s never had a reason to like L))

“*looks confused himself, not understanding because they’re speaking to themselves, so he shakes his head* Don’t concern yourself with it. Perhaps they’re just having a argument. Near, Mihael, please take a moment to calm down.”

:*eyes widen, genuinely afraid for him to say something like that to his parents, lest this entire event be something he’ll be put down for* Я сделаю так, чтобы тебя арестовали за твою неудачу.:

(‘I’ll have you arrested for the failure you are.’)

:*physically feels rage filling him, and at that, he immediately stands, storming away from Near* Fuck off. *murmurs, before leaving the room in an instant*:

“ ... *watches as Mello leaves, growing further confused, various possibilities going through his head over what could have possibility caused this dispute* .. - Nate, whatever this issue is, you need to either tell us so we can help, or talk to him.”

:-? *didn’t expect Mello to leave without anymore fight, and immediately he’s compelled to follow him* -- I’m sorry Mother, Father. I’ll go speak to him.:

“*before Near to leave the room he catches him, gently asking* Do you want one of us to come with you?”

:.. *shakes his head, appreciating the concern, but his mind is only focused on finding the other* Please make yourselves comfortable, we’ll be back shortly. *starts into the hallway at that, quickly making his way to Mello’s room, where the other has yet to lock the door* *comes in, only making his way in enough to shut the door* What are you doing? I thought you were so sure about making them love you.:

((mello is so defensive about his masculinity lol))

:*had just been about the slide the lock in place when Near walks in, and he steps back, more so out of surprise he actually immediately followed him rather than purposefully allowing him in the room* Who cares? I only did it to piss you off.:

:*frowns, forgetting that his attempts were solely to make him upset, and while that makes him feel less guilty, he presses further* Then why storm out of the room? You knew I had to stop whatever you were doing.:

: - You’re fucking annoying. That’s why. *crosses his arms, turning around and walking to sit on the edge of his bed, facing away from him and towards the window, not at all in the mood to be around him right now* You were purposefully - instigating me. And you know it.:

:Obviously. *mumbles, walking only a few steps further, casually twirling his hair* Your whole purpose for being here was to make a bad impression. I had no other choice.:

:And you decided the way to piss me off was to say I’d have your children? *glances behind him, scoffing* You’re ridiculous. You could have at least thought of something better to say.:

:*simply rolls his eyes* Out of everything we’ve argued about, your masculinity has always brought on the biggest outburst. It was the obvious way to go. *grows tired of standing, so he sits beside him, not caring if he has an issue with it* Let’s go back out there so we can finish this once and for all.:

: - Whatever. *decides to drop the issue, not wanting Near to go into further detail, and he turns his body away, resting a bent leg on the bed* .. Why did you follow me, anyway? You could have finished this on your own.:

:*wasn’t expecting the question, and he would rather go without it for his own sake, but he sits there, silent until he manages a response* --At first I felt wrong for upsetting you. Maybe I was feeding too much in the delusion that our marriage was real.:

:Is it? *asks rhetorically as a small smile appears on his face, but it’s not seen by Near since he’s facing away* *the smile fades, quickly recalling his anger* Well, do you not feel wrong now?:

:I think it was only fair considering you’re making things difficult very difficult for me. *mumbles, crossing his arms over his legs* *pauses, his tone growing slightly more solemn as he thinks over the situation* I don’t know what I’m going to tell my parents when you’re suddenly out of my life, considering how ‘happy’ we’ve been this entire time.:

:*turns his head slightly towards him, a little surprised he’s already concerning himself with it* ... It’s not all that uncommon for couples to get divorced. Besides, doesn’t every couple go through some sort of ‘honeymoon’ phase, or whatever?:

:*shakes his head, not accepting what the other has to say* There’s no chance that I would marry someone without an absolute certainty of the other person. *looks around the room, distracting himself as he considers his choices* -My other option is to have it look like a unforeseen death. Perhaps a car accident- or an illness. That would be less documented.:

:*turns sharply towards him, perplexed* What - You’re not going to kill me off. That’s pathetic. What’s so wrong with you just divorcing me without having to make up some stupid story of my death?:

:I told you, that would make it seem like I made a bad decision. *gives him a small look, frustrated by his questions* Why does it even matter to you? This isn’t your life. You’ll be long gone.:

:*frowns, averting his eyes towards the window facing out as he realizes he’s right, that he has no true reason to be upset over Near’s plan* ... Well, an illness seems like hassle. If you’re so fucking rich, you’d do everything in your power to get me best medical care. Pick something else.:

:Being rich has nothing to do with it. *says with a somewhat harsh tone, quickly turning away from him* No matter how much money one has, it can’t always change the outcome. You’re going to die, and I’m going to be alone, like it was meant to be in the beginning.:

((sounds familiar))

:*looks towards him, wondering where this is coming from, as the last time they’ve discussed this a month prior, he was sure he was only speaking out of tiredness, as he didn’t show any indication he still felt that way afterwards* .. You act as though I’m actually going to die.:

((light and l be like, ‘hurry the fuck up’))

:-Perhaps it’ll be easier to think that way. *whispers, hurriedly standing from the bed, wanting to leave before he lets his emotions get the better of him* Come on then, my parents are waiting.:

:*wonders over his sudden rush, and he stands, immediately following after him* Right, remain completely unattached from everyone around you. Why not just think same for your parents?:

:*the comment has him pausing, his hand just barely at the door knob before he catches him* I’m unattached from you for a reason. I don’t want my feelings to grow for someone who wants nothing more from me than a ticket to freedom. *his hand drops to his side, actually managing to calm down as he filters his words* ..Please understand that this is already hard on me.:

:*guilt washes over him, and he moves closer, standing just a few feet behind him as he chooses his next words carefully* ... You aren’t unattached from me.:

:... *doesn’t respond initially, internally trying to deny the accusation, to try and find anything to say other than the truth, but he fails* ..I don’t know why. I’ve thought over it countless times, so much that it’s kept me awake at night, but- I am:

: ... *the confession is startling, if not a little unsettling, especially considering it describes exactly what he’s been going through* .. *without saying that aloud, he instead steps forward, moving his arms around Near into an embrace* *a moment passes before he speaks* .. You realize if I leave, that doesn’t mean we can’t still - talk, or whatever.

((if))

:*the hold comes as a shock, almost causing him to flinch at the sudden touch, but once he understands what he’s doing, the warmth comforts him, despite it being such a difficult topic* I- don’t think I’ll be happy knowing you’re out there, possibly finding other people’s company.:

:*rests his chin atop his head, inhaling the subtle scent of his hair, and he rationalizes the personal touch as feeling sorry for the other* Are you jealous?:

:No. *he says quickly, immediately flustered whenever he brings up such a topic* .. You’re my spouse, no matter where you go.:

:It’s okay if you actually like me. Or are attracted to me, whichever. *slides one of his arms around his waist, pulling him against his chest, the position and change of conversation directing at Near making him feel more in control, less aware of his own feelings* Though, you have to realize you have bias. You’re not around anyone else all time.:

:*reluctantly has no retort to Mello’s statement, though he allows him to pull him closer, even holding his arms around him loosely* I don’t deny that there is some bias. *looks up at him, his eyebrows going up* - but what is your excuse? You have plenty of experience with society, and yet you’re here holding me.:

: - We’re married. *retracts his arms, moving past him to open the door* Let’s just pretend we've made up and deal with your parents.:

:*can’t help but smile at his reaction, knowing what it means without him having to say it directly* *gives him a small nod, moving forward, but not without taking his hand to lead him out* Let’s go. *walks out and into the hallway, coming back with a much more calm expression*:

“*leaning against Light with his attention on another pastry, but he suddenly gets up once he sees them, eyeing particularly Mihael* Is everything alright now?”

:*puts on a sweet smile, squeezing Near’s hand and glancing towards him, before offering an explanation to them as they walk towards the seating area* We have fights all the time, but we always make up.:

“*the explanation makes sense, especially considering Near definitely takes after L, and he and L have quite the few spats - but even so, he feels somewhat wary* .. Are you sure that everything’s alright? *leans forward, idly pushing the tray of pastries away to make sure L doesn’t take anymore* If there’s something wrong, you know you can tell us.”

:It’s nothing wrong, father. *responds in a quiet tone, wanting to be as confident as possible* It was a foolish argument, but we’ve talked, and everything is fine. *gives Mello a small smile, though he isn’t sure if it’s just for show, or genuine after their talk* Our marriage still stands.:

“*frowns at the sweets being taken away from him, but he catches the site of Mihael and Near, and it instantly calms him* *something still feels off with their relationship, but he can’t help but think that things will be alright with his son, so he simply nods* I’m happy to hear it.”

:*sits down, bringing Near to follow him with his arm around his shoulders* But - maybe we should avoid talking about having family. For now, of course. *smiles, laughing the situation off*:

“*begins to feel better about this, taking a sip of his tea, all the while keeping an eye on L’s actions to make sure he doesn’t make a lunge for the sweets* I’m sure the day will come where you’ll agree, anyway.”

:We’ll see. *keeps a light-hearted tone, not wanting to bring up the fact that it of course won’t be happening* How long will you and father be staying in America, mother?:

“For now your father’s business with the government is complete. We’ll leave tomorrow, and we shouldn’t have to return for quite some time. *speaks honestly, though, he knows they still will come back, if only to see their son*”

:Your work is - ‘mobile’, right? Why don’t you move here, to New York? *asks despite knowing well enough that’s a ridiculous proposition, one that he doesn’t even want occurring if he gets free*:

“*laughs shortly* Well, we own a home in Japan already, so we couldn’t possibly move to a whole new country. *looks towards Near* In fact, we’ve been hoping Near will move to Japan at some point.”

:*rolls his eyes, ignoring his look* Father, we aren’t moving to Japan. Mihael just managed to settle in a new country, and he doesn’t know Japanese.:

“Oh, he doesn’t? *decides to tease Mihael a little, switching his tongue to the language to he can’t understand as a bit of revenge for earlier* *turns to Light* If we get rid of him, Near won’t have any excuses left. Our little boy will have to return with us.”

:*eyes widen slightly, less to the morbid joke and more to the embarrassing name* Mother--:

((I feel too weebish when i use kanji but he spoke in japanese for that))

((i gotchu))

:*as L switches to the new language, he frowns, absolutely hating when people speak in a language he doesn’t know around him, but he holds his tongue* *once Near speaks, he grows even more confused* - What’s going on?:

“Oh - Nothing. L just wants Near to move back with us. *switches to Japanese, responding to L with a smile* Though, it’s not a bad idea.”

“What a dastardly thought, commissioner. *grins wide, leaning into Light with full intentions of kissing him*”

:-! *disgusted by his parent’s show of affection, looking away immediately* They’re two of the most powerful men in the world, but they-- are still normal parents. *mumbles grimly, not wanting to tell him what they actually said*:

“*accepts the kiss, bringing him closer with an arm wrapped around his waist* *once they release the kiss after a moment, he leans back against the couch cushions, taking another sip from his tea as he gives L a warm smile* Maybe one day.”

:*looks to Near with a curious, but annoyed frown* Aren’t you in the exact same position? You’re powerful, and you’re in a relationship.:

:But we aren’t like- them. *points to his parent’s still not wanting to look at them in case they aren’t done*:

“*gives Light another grin before he turns over to his son’s conversation, amused* Near is different in many ways, but the same as every other child when it comes to being embarrassed by his parents. One day you’ll know what it’s like.”

:We could be. *leans forward, pressing a kiss against his forehead in defiance, but internally, his own words sound a little bit too realistic, even though he knows if he were ever to be in a relationship, it wouldn’t be so romantic*:

“*as they talk, he nods in agreement, idly offering L a sip of his (unsweetened) drink, expecting him to deny it* Near’s very normal in a lot of ways, whether he thinks so or not. *an idea comes to him suddenly, which he decides to voice aloud* You know, since we’re leaving tomorrow, maybe we should all do something together before we leave. As a family.”

:*nearly flinches away from the overly sweet gesture, not liking it even if he is still pretending with the other, his cheeks growing warm involuntarily* We did do something as a family. We went to lunch.:

“*raises his hand up to Light’s gesture, of course rejecting the drink, but his attention focuses on the conversation* What kind of activity would we do?”

“Maybe... *thinks for a moment, wondering if there’s something that they’d all enjoy* *tilts the cup against his lips, taking a sip as he thinks* ... We could visit a museum. Have you two gone to any?”

:Few art and science museums, but not many. *leans back against his seat, but secretly, he’s growing annoyed he’s going to have to keep this façade up for an entire day*:

:*seems to sense Mello’s agitation, so he easily thinks of something to use as an excuse* Mihael has a busy workload tomorrow. His next transcript is due, and we can’t take him away from work.:

“Hm, that’s unfortunate, but we understand. *doesn’t harbor any bad feelings, knowing how it can be with time-sensitive work* Surely we’ll have to plan something for our next visit.”

“*nods in agreement, taking the final sip of his tea before setting it down with a small clank* Maybe next time we can plan to stay longer - At least a week, maybe. We’ll have to see how our schedules work.”

:*grateful for Near’s intervention, to which he relaxes, already growing tired of this, but considering these are Near’s parents, he’s a little lenient* Yeah, maybe for - Christmas, whatever is you celebrate.:

“None of us are religious, but we’ve always celebrated for Near’s sake. *likes the idea of spending a holiday with Near, as he’s insisted to not for several years now* Christmas it is.”

:*as everyone makes plans around him, he can’t help but frown, it once again reminding him of how the situation will vary much different from what they’re seeing now* ... *squeezes Mello’s hand without thinking, it subconsciously giving him strength* Father, Mother, I’m sure you’re tired from traveling. Would you prefer to stay here or do you have somewhere else?:

“Well, we were planning on staying at the hotel a few blocks down, but if you wouldn’t mind us staying here, I think it’d be a nice way to spend a little bit of time together before we go.”

:*wonders over the small action of Near’s hand, but he doesn’t comment on it, figuring it’s subconscious* *looks towards him, speaking to him, figuring he has no reason to go against the idea* .. You have million rooms here.:

:Of course. *feels at ease with Mello guiding with him in the conversation, growing more secure* You’ve stayed before, feel free to take whatever area you’d like.:

“*seems to sense the vibe coming from Near, and instantly he nudges the one beside him, starting to get out* Let’s go and settle ourselves in, Light. We can come back after we’re finished and perhaps think over what to have for dinner.”

“Right - I wouldn’t mind cooking for dinner, also. *stands up, offering a hand for L to use to get up, looking over towards Near* We’ll stay in the same room as last time, so you know where to find us.”

:*as they begin to stand, he starts to feel relieved* .. *looks towards Near, a sudden question in mind, and he mumbles just loud enough for him to hear* .. I’m assuming not same room as mine.:

:*shakes his head, responding back* They normally stay on the floor below mine. *goes back to his parents, offering them a small wave* Take your take, we’ll see you when you return.:

“*gives them a nod, examining the two with interest before opening the front door* Behave while we’re away, you two. *leaves without another word, pulling Light along with him*”

:*rolls his eyes at his mother’s comment, but lets out a small sigh of relief, this entire day being a difficult endeavour* -- Are you regretting your attempt at revenge yet?:

:It’s - surprisingly annoying. *pulls at the top few buttons of his collar, opening at least three before he feels like he can breath, before grabbing the hem of the sweater over top and pulling it over his head, throwing it carelessly to the side* How do people stand to wear this shit? It’s constricting. *runs a hand through his hair, messing up the perfectly in place strands*:

((r u sure it’s constricting))

:I wear a button-up shirt nearly every day, I don't find it constricting in the slightest. *casually adds as the other removes the uncomfortable clothes, his eyes leisurely following down to his chest* Though, this outfit did look particularly nice on your figure.:

:And my others don't? *arches an eyebrow, obviously offended by the comment* *with sudden decision, he kicks off his shoes, glad to be rid of the uncomfortable, yet to be broken in shoes*:

:Well, I also think the leather fits you, but this gives you a different look entirely. It makes you seem- bigger, while the leather makes you seem more tough. *reaches out to skim the cloth covering his torso, marveling in its softness* - both are appealing.:

:*at the touch, he's surprised, but he supposes it's just another example of Near’s oddity and how he can do something socially unacceptable without realizing it* ... *manages to speak, after a moment* .. Well, good, because I don't plan to change.:

:*retracts his hand after a moment more, having his fill without any reason* I would never ask for such. I like Mello the way he is- subtracting some of the attitude, of course.:

:*watches as Near pulls away, wondering what caused the sudden movement* *frowns at what he says, though he doesn't deny it, knowing his attitude is especially evident around Near - but he figures it's his fault anyway* Well, I’ll change when you do.:

:*his eyebrow goes up, wondering what he could mean by something like that, as he’s never had an attitude with the other* Would you have me act like a loving spouse? Would you be not as angry then?:

:Maybe. Depends on what that includes. *as a final attempt of comfort, he kicks his feet up and on the coffee table in front of them, making sure to avoid hitting the leftover pastries and tea* *relaxes, content now that he’s had his fun with messing up Near’s plans for the day, even if it ended somewhat badly, but also glad it’s (mostly) over with*:

:*looks over at him, seeing how relaxed he is, a little perturbed that he’s so satisfied with himself* .. *a small idea forms in his mind, and he decides he can manage to go out of his comfort zone to get his own revenge* *without any warning he creeps up on him, swinging his leg over and effecting straddling the other, eyes direct on his* *his voice comes out soft, but it has emotional unlike his normal apathy* Ты такой замечательный муж, то почти сводит меня с ума..:

(‘You’re such a wonderful husband, it almost drives me mad.’)

:*having closed his eyes to relax just a moment prior, they suddenly shoot open the moment he feels Near shift, him closing in happening before he can even process it* *once he realizes he’s effectively trapped, he doesn’t attempt to immediately shove him off despite being capable of doing so, feeling frozen in place as he speaks, the words sending a hot, twisting feeling straight to his gut* *not one to be outdone, he counters back, voice thick with challenge* Ой? Что тебе так обо мне нравится?:

(‘Oh? What do you like so much abnout me then?’)

:*knew Mello wouldn’t immediately curb at that, so he’s prepared to play along, reaching forward to gently curl a strand of his hair around his finger* А что нет? Каждый раз, когда я смотрю на тебя, я таю. *mumbles, resting his free hand against his shoulder* Ты такой сильный..:

(‘What doesn’t? When I look at you I want to melt.’ ‘You’re so superior..’)

((Gotta get that that inferior complex))

((U right))

:*his last statement strikes a chord in him, fingers twisting into a half-closed grip against both his calves resting on either side of him* … *wonders for a moment what he’s getting at by doing this, but strangely, the mystery of it makes the situation even more enticing, deciding to continue playing along* Итак, значит ли это, что теперь ты хочешь быть моей маленькой домохозяйкой, Золотце?:

(‘So, does this mean you’re willing to be my little housewife, my dear?’)

((The Золотце part is basically the equivalent of ‘my dear’ in english and ‘mon cheri’ in french btw))

((Btw I really wanna do a high school light and l au, we could give them their own outfits and everything))

:Домохозяйка? Это то, что вы хотите? *quietly responds, genuinely curious if Mello truly wants something like that or if he’s trying to make this difficult for him* *leans down a little, his hand drifting down to his chest* Я мог бы, если вы позаботитесь обо мне.:

(‘Housewife? Is that what you want?’ ‘I could, as long as you take care of me.’)

:*unable to restrain himself, his head swimming, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to his jawline, before offering a single sharp nip just beneath* Hm.. Хорошо. По рукам.:

(‘Hm.. Alright. Deal.’)

((Хорошо is the “Korosho” Eli always says, I think xD))

:--! *flinches at the sudden bite, reflexes telling him to move away, but he stays only to be pleasantly rewarded by a warm sensation creeping down his neck* Грязный трюк.. *looks at him with distracted eyes, the hand twirling that strand of hair now going full against his scalp, barely scraping against it* Мудак.:

(‘Dirty Trick.. Asshole.’)

:*the vulgar language catches him off guard, and part of him wonders where he learned it from, but mostly, he’s too distracted to care* *a soft groan escapes him at the touch to his hair, surprising even himself, and he focuses on moving his hands up his sides, digging his fingers into his waist, subconsciously pulling him closer* .. Сделай это снова.:

(‘.. Says you.’)

:*his breath quickly catches as he feels the nails pull him in like a hook, his fingers twitch, and all he can think to do is pull harder, liking the reaction before* --? *but as he moves against him, he can’t ignore the ‘growth’ he feels underneath, to which he can't help but feel satisfied* Hm. *without any warning he starts to removes himself from Mello’s lap, fully intending on leaving him to suffer*:

:-? *as soon as he feels the other’s disappearing body heat, he grows confused, rational long gone as he doesn't bother to contemplate his next move, using his hands against his waist to impulsively jerk him back into place, flush against his body* Кусок дерьма - *the words barely make it out of his mouth before he forces their lips together, kissing him hard and without thought*:

(‘Little shit -’)

((We should include a matt scene again, pick up that subplot again))

:--? *just as he think he’s gotten his victory, he’s caught off guard as he’s suddenly pulled back against Mello’s body* *doesn’t have time to think before his lips meet with the other’s, his eyes closing out of response* Gn-- *despite the surprise, he can’t ignore how good it feels almost immediately, and having some experience now, he’s able to get into the flow before he grows frustrated by its heaviness* *pulls away quickly, looking down at him, flustered* -- don’t be so rough so quickly. I- don't like it:

:*frowns as he pulls away, immediately attempting to tug him closer before he speaks, and he pauses once he understands* - *grows somewhat embarrassed amongst his otherwise deluded feelings, subconsciously keeping him in place, twisting his fingers in the cloth of his shirt* You started it. You asked me to satisfy you.:

:*looks at him with a small hint of amusement, not able to stay angry at him as he notices the embarrassment on his face* If you want to satisfy me, then- Be more gentle. *speaks softly as he closes in, hand creeping to the back of his head to keep him interested* .. Тогда вы можете стать все труднее.:

(‘.. Then you can get rough.’)

:And .. how do you know what you want? *his voice doesn't come out as intimidating as he’d like, much more distracted by the touch to his hair and sound of his voice, and he idly realizes it seems to take hardly anything to rile him up, a fact that settles strangely in his mind* Вот?:

(‘Here?’)

:*intrigued by Mello’s somewhat passive responses, but he’s caught off guard by the question, contemplating it’s meaning* *grows a little more quiet, shrugging his shoulders* It’s- only kissing, and it’s my home. I can do what I want when I want.:

:Are you - what do you call it - exhibitionist? *smirks, but he doesn't bother waiting for an explanation, instead drawing him into a kiss, this time making an effort to be more gentle, but the feeling is strange, almost overwhelming* ..:

((He's not really using the term correctly xD))

:*rolls his eyes even into the kiss, but Mello’s lack of understanding English isn’t nearly as amusing as the kiss easily begins to affect it, it something unlike he’s felt before* *moves closer to him, idly grazing his fingertips against his chest, wanting to feel him as much as possible* Mm..:

:*refrains from digging his fingers into his sides again, settling at tracing them along his thighs, lightly* *leans into the kiss, beginning to feel dizzy as he carefully, slowly deepens it, the action oddly intimate* ...:

:*easily manages to progress along with him, his attention solely on the other and how the kiss feels, it sending pleasant shivers down his spine* Nn.. *can’t think about how any bad implications could come from this, fully immersed with his hands gently roaming to explore whatever they come across*:

:*the kiss is surprisingly pleasant, somehow making the promise of what’s to come even more anticipating, even if it is just this, but he feels content, despite having trouble keeping his touch soft* *once again, he feels the urge to grow rougher, for a moment pressing harder into it, one hand digging into the side of his hips, but it only lasts a moment before he remembers what they agreed on*..:

((so r we gon do ur idea))

:-! *at the sudden grip his flinches his hips, but the pain easily morphs into pleasure, it spurring on a sudden sense of eagerness to the kiss, moving closer to Mello with fingers digging in his shoulders* ..:

“*doesn’t bother knocking, quickly allowing himself in as he continues speaking to Light behind him* I think he’ll approve of that. You still enjoy gyudon don’t you, Ne-- *looks in front of him to see Mello and Near on the couch in a- compromising position* ?”

:-?! *didn’t even notice the door opening, it being too late to separate before he already hears L’s voice* *rapidly pulls himself away from Mello, his breath still heavy as he looks at them with wide eyes* Mother-!:

“*his brows raises, a grin on his face* .. Perhaps you’d prefer Russian cuisine.”

:*grows confused the moment Near rapidly pulls away from him, attempting to grasp him again, but he stills the instant he realizes exactly why he moved in the first place, seeing both Light and L in the doorway*:

“*upon seeing the two on the couch, shock freezing him in place, not ever having expected to see this from his son, even if he knows it’s only expected* *figures he’s feeling this way only because he’s his father, but even so, it wasn’t what he was expecting to see upon first walking in, and it’s even more incriminating considering Mello seems somewhat undressed* - Nate?”

: - *starts to button his shirt back up, realizing how it may look, but he realizes the overall amusement of this situation, having cost Near so much embarrassment* *turns to Near, speaking to him* See, Near? I told you we should have waited.:

:Mihael. *practically grits his name through his teeth, and if he were any other person he would be tempted to hit him, but for now he settles for quickly removing himself from the other’s lap* -- I’m sorry, Father. We didn’t expect you back so quickly.:

“Now now, don’t be such a prude, Light. *says with amusement, having more fun with Light’s reaction than anything* They’re married after all, and you can’t say we weren’t doing the exact same thing.”

:*eyes widen, completely in awe at his mother’s lenience- and disgusting conversation* Are you punishing me?:

“You’re right. I’m sorry. *offers the apology with a smile, but it doesn’t sound entirely genuine* Anyway, this is where you live.”

:*reaches over to take hold of Near’s hand once more, squeezing him gently, mumbling quietly for him to hear* Seems you can’t control yourself, Домохозяйка.:

“*not having heard them, instead deciding to continue the conversation they initially meant to have, figuring it’s the easiest way to diffuse any tension* So, Nate - gyudon? What do you two think?”

(‘Housewife.’)

:*gives Mello another mean look, though his face does get red at such a comment* *moves away easily, focusing on his father, giving him a small nod* That’s fine- as long as you and mother stay five feet apart.:

“*smiles, taking his own seat on the loveseat across from Mello, just like they were a short while ago* No promises.”

“*sits next to L, moving an arm around his shoulders and effectively already going against Near’s wishes* Mihael? Have you ever tried it?”

:*looks towards Light once he speaks directly to him, having been distracted by the subtle redness of Near’s face* - No, I haven’t. But I’m not very picky.:

:*looks at his parents grimly, annoyed that they won’t listen to him, but he guess that’s their own revenge, so he keeps quiet* - I’ll help you if you get up now, father.:

“Oh, what a charming negotiation. *muses to Light, getting intentionally close to his face just to tease their son* You may want to take that offer before it never happens again.”

(those parents)

“*leans in to press a kiss to his lips, letting it last a moment before finally retracting himself, offering L a gentle look before standing up, gesturing for Near to follow him* Alright, let’s go. It’s been a while since you’ve cooked with me.”

:You’ve actually cooked before? *doesn’t actually want to get up, deciding he’d rather wait until they leave so he can finally - take care of other matters* Without burning the place down?:

((y dont i just @me next time))

:*rolls his eyes at his parents, crossing his arms at their overly-affectionate display, but thankfully he’s distracted by Mello’s question* I don’t go near the stove, I just help him with the minor things for the sake of ‘bonding’.:

“*smiling softly at the warm kiss, easily letting him move away for him and his son to have their time together* *decides to lock eyes on Mello, deciding he needs a little discipline as well* I think Mello and I will sit here and have a conversation while you two make dinner. We need bonding time as well.”

((haha mello has to suffer through a boner))

((lol))

:*his eyes dart towards L once he addresses him, wondering what the hell he’s planning* - Sure, that’s fine with me. *forces out in the nicest manner possible*:

“You sure? *asks out of habit, before heading towards the door* Alright, well, we’ll be in the kitchen. C’mon, Nate.”

:*after a long afternoon and an admittedly pleasant dinner, his parents returned to their temporary home and he ended up showered and exchanged in a new set of pajamas, lazily drying his hair with a towel on the edge of his bed* *glances over at his bathroom, somewhat hesitant to speak up* -- There’s no reason to sleep in the same bedroom, they’re on an entirely different floor:

:*after having finally washed the sticky hairspray from his hair that’s kept it in place all day, he dries his head swiftly with a towel before tossing it on the sink’s counter* I’m using your shower, not sleeping in your bed. *adjusts the robe covering his body and lazily tied around his waist, deciding he’s finally finished, and so he exits the room, combing his hands through his hair* Not that you’ve ever minded.:

:*glances at him twice before he realizes what he’s wearing, his eyes wander for a moment before he suddenly turns away, pretending to be distracted with his hair* Maybe we should. *mumbles, before adding quickly* -just in case they came here in the middle of the night. They’re known to do that.:

:- Really? *believes him, surprised for a moment before he realizes it does sound like something his parents would do, after getting to know them throughout the day* That’s fucking weird. *mumbles offhandedly, moving to the small table where his phone is sitting, checking the messages and seeing he has quite a few from Matt talking about his latest date, and he begins to type a response, distracted from the conversation* .. Or are you just finding excuse to sleep with me?:

((he means that like literally sleeping))

((yes I know haley))

:I am not. *speaks in a serious tone, tossing the towel on the floor after he’s done with it* Don’t act as if you’re not jumping at the opportunity to stay in here without the usual excuse at two in the morning.:

:*the sudden comment hits a little too close to home, and he can only look towards him with a mixture of irritation and bewilderment that he can be so direct* ... Fuck off. *drops his phone, allowing it fall onto the table without care, a bad mood developing* Don’t act like you don’t look forward to it.:

:*doesn’t have to look at Mello to understand he’s set him off, wondering when he became so in tune with the other’s emotions, but he quickly ignores that, appeasing him instead* I do look forward to it. *simultaneously patting the other side of the bed as he comments playfully* You’re rather thin for your height, but you’re still warm.:

:*rolls his eyes, not wanting to sit down out of spite, but he doesn’t feel like standing any longer* You’re lucky I’m tired. *sits on the mattress, kicking the comforters away as he leans back against the pillows* Is that all I’m good for? Heat?:

:And the occasional conversation. *repeats the same process Mello does, bringing his feet up to his chest for added comfort* What’s wrong with enjoying the company of my husband for one more night?:

:Nothing, I guess. *responds casually, crossing his arms behind his head to rest against* You could just hire someone to do this for you, since I’m not here every night. And you seem so obviously desperate for - what, warmth? Conversation? *glances towards him, the hint of a smile on his face*:

:Hmph. *doesn’t respond beyond a small huff at first, defiantly shaking his head* It took me weeks to be able to comfortably have you in my room for more than a minute, much less lay in my bed. It’s too much of a hassle to train another spouse.:

:I feel honored. *responds sarcastically, then decides to continue once he realizes what he said* - I’m not trained. You haven't taught me how to do shit.:

:*”looks at him, but not before he rolls his eyes* You are too sensitive. I never said anything about training you. After the first night, you understood things. *adds quietly, a little reluctant to add this* .. I meant so that I would like them.:

:I haven't done anything intentionally to please you. *says simply, it being true - despite the instances he remembers being patient, such as letting him go at his own pace when they were traveling to tourist destinations* .. You seem like you’re uncaring anyway.:

:I do care about some things. *defiantly mumbles, not like the assumption, even if he does act that way quite often* I cared enough to go in public with you. I allowed you your privacy by taking the tracker off your phone. *lays his head against his hand to relax* I even tried to cook for you, remember?:

:And how did that turn out? *chuckles, recalling the incident, the food having somehow been both undercooked and burnt* Maybe you’re not a good housewife.:

:*looks at him as if that’s an obvious statement, flicking him on his shoulder* The point is, I tried many new things to make your stay here pleasant. Things I wouldn’t do with just anyone.:

:.. I never said I didn't appreciate it. *mumbles, fidgeting for a moment before distracting himself by grabbing a book he left here a few nights before, opening it to where he left off, worried over the direction of this conversation* .. So? This makes us friends, then?:

:*the question strikes him as strange, to which he doesn't have an answer for at first, only offering a small shrug* *plays with his hair idly as he watches him read* Do friends kiss like we do? And sleep together?:

(He’s genuinely asking if that's a thing)

:*is about to respond ‘no’, but he realizes that it is actually something that occurs* .. Sometimes. Not usually. *keeps the answer simple after realizing Near is likely genuinely asking the question, keeping his eyes on the book in front of him* .. We’ve only kissed twice anyway.:

:I suppose you’re right. *takes his word to heart, thinking maybe it truly is something just between friends, to which he suddenly feels conflicted in his feelings* Then we’re friends.:

:... Is there something wrong with that? *looks towards him, wondering what's going through his mind, momentarily forgetting about his book*:

:No. *responds simply, trying to ignore the confusion he has for their new label* *lays himself down on the pillow again, closing his eyes to relax* I’m happy you want to be my friend.:

:*the sentimentality is too much, heat rising to his face out of embarrassment, but he hopes the other doesn't notice his discomfort over the foreign situation, mulling the label over as well* ... Well, it's unavoidable, right?:

:Technically not. *peeks an eye open, ignorant to the blush on Mello’s face, lucky for him* Things could have been very different for us. You could have left, we could have never spoken and been parted after a month without a second thought.:

:... *turns the page, realizing he's right, though he didn't expect him to voice it aloud and so directly* .. Should I?:

:-? *becomes more alert now, almost concerned that was what he wanted to hear the entire time* .. *swallows softly, remaining as passive as possible* Do you want to?:

: ... *doesn’t answer at first, his initial gut answer unsettling, as he's never been in a situation before where he couldn't easily leave due to emotions* .. *sighs heavily, setting the book face down in his lap* ... Come here.:

:... *doesn’t respond to him initially, but slowly he considers it, scooting his body over to get closer to his side, still keeping his hands close to his chest* Is this your way of telling me goodbye? I know you aren’t one for words.:

:*as he comes closer, he brings an arm around his shoulders and drawing him against him* ... *remains silent for the moment, weighing the options heavily* .. No. You’d know if I was leaving.:

:*the decline does take him by surprise, but he doesn’t anticipate anything from the other, only deciding to enjoy whatever this is while it lasts* - Will you tell me what happened to you in Russia? I’ve gone through many possibilities, but can’t pinpoint why you would leave the mafia, or why they’re searching for you.:

#mail order mello #mello #near #light #l #matt #melloxnear #lightxl #alternate universe

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altertonative · 6 years

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ALTERNATIVELY THROUGH POLAND: ZDROWISKO IN KAMPINOS NATIONAL PARK

BRZOZÓWKA AND ZDROWISKO – WHERE CAN I FIND IT?

Brzozówka is a tiny village located in the Masovian Voivodeship, 8 km from Mińsk Mazowiecki and 35 km from Warsaw. There are only a dozen houses there, and the population is less than 300 people. The village is surrounded by omnipresent lowland areas overgrown with forest or converted into arable fields. There aren’t any elevations above the horizon! A strange feeling when you are riding a bike for a few kilometers and due to the flat terrain, you don’t even have to change the gears! It seems like an ideal place for skaters and skateboard fans! And actually, Mr. Jacek, the owner of Zdrowisko, recommends this form of free time activity, while staying in his health resort - the most extraordinary holiday home in the area. Of course, this is only a fraction of the possibilities that this place has to offer. If you expect a country-style rustic cottage, you are wrong. Try to imagine a small manor house inhabited by a family of artists, in which each object tells a story, adding its interiors a kind of pomposity. The seeming tangle of styles in Zdrowisko introduces only temporary chaos in the organized mind of the city's minimalist arriving to this place, because it quickly turns out that everything has its place, as it was planned by the owner. Mr. Jacek is a sculptor and an architect (designer) of gardens. For several years now he has been devoting himself completely to Zdrowisko, investing all his time in the implementation of his dream venture, which, once he runs out of power, should serve as a private "nursing home" for him and his friends. And from the stories at dinner it appears that these friends are not just anybody! Actors, musicians, writers...a few remarkable names could be found, so if you are tempted to spend the night in Zdrowisko, be sure to reserve one evening for a chat with a glass of wine with the owner!

ACCOMMODATION IN ZDROWISKO:

Zdrowisko (which means the Health Resort) has as many as 14 beds located in five original apartments. Each of them stands out for something else: one has a mezzanine, in another there is a bathtub in the room or a bed made of piano. Noteworthy are the pillows filled with buckwheat seeds, at first glance they look very uncomfortable, but they ideally suit to the shape of the head and neck, thus providing a deep, restful sleep - be sure to try them! Apparently, you can also buy them from Mr. Jacek...

The easiest way to describe this place is as being decorated in a glamorous style, but such generalization deprives it of the artistic spirit that can be seen at every corner in many sculptures and paintings decorating all interiors. On the ground floor there is a recreation room with a fireplace, a kitchen (where magic happens behind the closed door), a spacious dining room with a huge table for 14 people and an exit to the terrace leading directly to the garden. Upstairs, apartments and a common space have been created, where you can relax, listen to music, or watch a movie projected on the big projector. Zdrowisko is ideally suited for a variety of workshops or as accommodation for organized groups, although individual guests are also welcomed here.

FOOD IN ZDROWISKO:

It is possible to buy food in Zdrowisko: breakfast, lunch, dinner – all together or as individual meals. Mr. Jacek offers traditional or vegetarian cuisine (although at our request he managed to prepare vegan breakfast and dinner), without wheat, but full of vegetables from his own garden and natural products such as bread, meat and eggs from a trusted sources (i.e. usually from his neighbors). Guests have 24-hour access to water, coffee and tea, and sometimes to some kind of cake, which will be baked by the hostess. Apartments also have wireless kettles, and a communal fridge is set up in the shared lounge. Meal times can be agreed with the owner on the spot, he will adapt them to your needs. We came to Zdrowisko in the autumn, that's why pumpkin, beetroot and potatoes reigned supreme on the table, all of it intensely seasoned and beautifully served. For example, for supper we got roasted pumpkin stuffed with buckwheat groats with mushrooms, and for breakfast porridge with nuts, cranberries and cinnamon, and delicious rye bread. If you're a gourmand, make sure to prepare an empty stomach 😉

ATTRACTIONS IN ZDROWISKO:

If the weather is good, you can take a bike trip around the area which is covered by the Natura 2000 program. This gives these terrains prestige and status of importance – it’s really worth visiting them! Bicycles can be rented for free on site - there are seven of them in stock. Although the glory years are behind them, they are suitable for flat, asphalt roads leading to various parts of the Kampinos National Park. Narrow streets rarely frequented by cars will be a treat for fans of roller-skaters and skateboards, but you will need to bring the equipment with you. The biggest attraction of Zdrowisko is a private swimming pond, built by the owner, where you can go swimming, also by canoe or boat. And it is best to jump from the jetty to the water, where the depth reaches two meters!

What if it's raining?

Relax, you will not be bored. In addition to the aforementioned home cinema room, you can arrange a yoga class, Ayurveda massage (extra payable) or a relaxing bath in a herbal tub. For those thriving for interesting company, I recommend talking to the owner. Be careful because he can easily inspire you to completely change your current lifestyle! 😊

ZDROWISKO’S AMENITIES:

For guests there are available: • water, coffee, tea, • cutlery, mugs and glasses, • electric kettle, • shared fridge, • towels, • hair-dryer, • bath salt, •hair and body shower gel, • candles, • bikes. There is no possibility to use the kitchen in Zdrowisko, so think about getting the full-board. Moreover, there is no restaurant in the closest area.

HOW AND WHERE TO BOOK ZDROWISKO?

This can be done by the SLOWHOP search engine, which collects addresses of extraordinary guest houses in Poland. All you have to do is send a reservation request, wait for the answer and quote from the hosts, and then pay 30% of the total amount as confirmation.

You can also book directly on the owner's site HERE. Unfortunately this site is only in Polish.

PRICES:

1 night = 150 PLN / person (around 35 EUR) 2, 3, 4, etc. nights = PLN 100 / person per night (around 25 EUR)

In case of longer stays and renting the entire facility, the price should be agreed individually with the owner. The number of beds can then be increased to sixteen.

Board*: breakfast = 20 PLN / person (around 5 EUR) dinner = PLN 50 / person (around 12 EUR) dinner = PLN 30 / person (around 7 EUR)

* it is possible to get vegan meals for a larger group of people, but the food is prepared by Mr Jacek's neighbor for PLN 120 whole (around 28 EUR).

Ayurvedic massage 1.5h = 200 PLN (around 47 EUR)

Schiatsu massage 1h = PLN 120 (around 28 EUR)

Yoga 1h = PLN 150 (around 35 EUR)

KAMPINOS NATIONAL PARK:

The Kampinos National Park was created in 1959 on the Central Mazovian Lowland. On the area of over 38 thousand hectares, there are vast areas of the Kampinos Forest, located in the Vistula's (Poland’s biggest river) glacier valley. Most of them are covered with dense forest, in which mixed trees and pine trees predominate. It is estimated that there are more than half of native animal species in the park, including a small population of black storks and herons. Since 2004, the Kampinos National Park belongs to the Natura 2000 areas due to the abundant plant diversity and the richness of bird species. The Kampinos National Park is just 30 km from Warsaw, thus offering a kind of escape from the urban jungle to the busy inhabitants of the capital. They have 350 km of walking routes, 200 km of cycling routes, horse-riding routes, car parks and relaxation poles. More information and current route maps can be found HERE. The most interesting is the red trail leading from Dziekanów Leśny to Brochów, showing the full spectrum of the park's landscape. It is also worth coming to Żelazowa Wola to visit the home of Fryderyk Chopin, as well as visit the graves and partisan cemeteries from 1944 (the closest one from Zdrowisko is in Wiesze). On the official website of the Kampinos National Park you can find an exhaustive tourist guide to download (unfortunately it’s only in Polish).

CONCLUSION:

Zdrowisko is an interesting place especially for people with an artistic spirit, or for those who still seek theirs. Located on the outskirts of the Kampinos Forest, it offers many attractions related to admiring and resting in the bosom of nature and learning about Polish history. I truly recommend this place not only to the inhabitants of Warsaw!

IF YOU WANT TO SHARE ANY THOUGHTS, PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SITE, OR WRITE TO ME DIRECTLY THROUGH THIS FORM:

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how? join the group of the alternative travelers!

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dangerfieldnewby · 6 years

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Back to the Future with Bill Cosby and Ta-Nehisi Coates

Coates, from 2009...

“...[T]he shift in focus from white racism to black culture is not as new as some social commentators make it out to be. Standing in St. Paul Church on that July evening listening to Cosby, I remembered the last time The Street felt like this: in the summer of 1994, after Louis Farrakhan announced the Million Man March. Farrakhan barnstormed the country holding “men only” meetings (but much larger). I saw him in my native Baltimore, while home from Howard University on vacation. The march itself was cathartic. I walked with four or five other black men, and all along the way black women stood on porches or out on the street, shouting, clapping, cheering. For us, Farrakhan’s opinions on the Jews mostly seemed beside the point; what stuck was the chance to assert our humanity and our manhood by marching on the Mall, and not acting like we were all fresh out of San Quentin. We lived in the shadow of the ’80s crack era. So many of us had been jailed or were on our way. So many of us were fathers in biology only. We believed ourselves disgraced and clung to the march as a public statement: the time had come to grow up.

Black conservatives have been dipping into this well of lost black honor since the turn of the 20th century. On the one hand, vintage black nationalists have harked back to a golden age of black Africa, where mighty empires sprawled and everyone was a king. Meanwhile, populist black conservatives like Cosby point to pre-1968 black America as an era when blacks were united in the struggle: men were men, and a girl who got pregnant without getting married would find herself bundled off to Grandpa’s farm.

What both visions share is a sense that black culture in its present form is bastardized and pathological. What they also share is a foundation in myth. Black people are not the descendants of kings. We are—and I say this with big pride—the progeny of slaves. If there’s any majesty in our struggle, it lies not in fairy tales but in those humble origins and the great distance we’ve traveled since. Ditto for the dreams of a separate but noble past. Cosby’s, and much of black America’s, conservative analysis flattens history and smooths over the wrinkles that have characterized black America since its inception.

Indeed, a century ago, the black brain trust was pushing the same rhetoric that Cosby is pushing today. It was concerned that slavery had essentially destroyed the black family and was obsessed with seemingly the same issues—crime, wanton sexuality, and general moral turpitude—that Cosby claims are recent developments. “The early effort of middle-class blacks to respond to segregation was, aside from a political agenda, focused on a social-reform agenda,” says Khalil G. Muhammad, a professor of American history at Indiana University. “The National Association of Colored Women, Du Bois in The Philadelphia Negro, all shared a sense of anxiety that African Americans were not presenting their best selves to the world. There was the sense that they were committing crimes and needed to keep their sexuality in check.” Adds William Jelani Cobb, a professor of American history at Spelman College: “The same kind of people who were advocating for social reform were denigrating people because they didn’t play piano. They often saw themselves as reluctant caretakers of the less enlightened.”

In particular, Cosby’s argument—that much of what haunts young black men originates in post-segregation black culture—doesn’t square with history. As early as the 1930s, sociologists were concerned that black men were falling behind black women. In his classic study, The Negro Family in the United States, published in 1939, E. Franklin Frazier argued that urbanization was undermining the ability of men to provide for their families. In 1965—at the height of the civil-rights movement—Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s milestone report, “The Negro Family: The Case for National Action,” picked up the same theme.

At times, Cosby seems willfully blind to the parallels between his arguments and those made in the presumably glorious past. Consider his problems with rap. How could an avowed jazz fanatic be oblivious to the similar plaints once sparked by the music of his youth? “The tired longshoreman, the porter, the housemaid and the poor elevator boy in search of recreation, seeking in jazz the tonic for weary nerves and muscles,” wrote the lay historian J. A. Rogers, “are only too apt to find the bootlegger, the gambler and the demi-monde who have come there for victims and to escape the eyes of the police.”

Beyond the apocryphal notion that black culture was once a fount of virtue, there’s still the charge that culture is indeed the problem. But to reach that conclusion, you’d have to stand on some rickety legs. The hip-hop argument, again, is particularly creaky. Ronald Ferguson, a Harvard social scientist, has highlighted that an increase in hip-hop’s popularity during the early 1990s corresponded with a declining amount of time spent reading among black kids. But gangsta rap can be correlated with other phenomena, too—many of them positive. During the 1990s, as gangsta rap exploded, teen pregnancy and the murder rate among black men declined. Should we give the blue ribbon in citizenship to Dr. Dre?

“I don’t know how to measure culture. I don’t know how to test its effects, and I’m not sure anyone else does,” says the Georgetown economist Harry Holzer. “There’s a liberal story that limited opportunities, and barriers, lead to employment problems and criminal records, but then there’s another story that has to do with norms, behaviors, and oppositional culture. You can’t prove the latter statistically, but it still might be true.” Holzer thinks that both arguments contain truth and that one doesn’t preclude the other. Fair enough. Suffice it to say, though, that the evidence supporting structural inequality is compelling. In 2001, a researcher sent out black and white job applicants in Milwaukee, randomly assigning them a criminal record. The researcher concluded that a white man with a criminal record had about the same chance of getting a job as a black man without one. Three years later, researchers produced the same results in New York under more-rigorous conditions.The accepted wisdom is that such studies are a comfort to black people, allowing them to wallow in their misery. In fact, the opposite is true—the liberal notion that blacks are still, after a century of struggle, victims of pervasive discrimination is the ultimate collective buzz-kill. It effectively means that African Americans must, on some level, accept that their children will be “less than” until some point in the future when white racism miraculously abates. That’s not the sort of future that any black person eagerly awaits, nor does it make for particularly motivating talking points.

Last summer, I watched Cosby give a moving commencement speech to a group of Connecticut inmates who’d just received their GEDs. Before the speech, at eight in the morning, Cosby quizzed correctional officials on the conditions and characteristics of their inmate population. I wished, then, that my 7-year-old son could have seen Cosby there, to take in the same basic message that I endeavor to serve him every day—that manhood means more than virility and strut, that it calls for discipline and dutiful stewardship. That the ultimate fate of black people lies in their own hands, not in the hands of their antagonists. That as an African American, he has a duty to his family, his community, and his ancestors.

If Cosby’s call-outs simply ended at that—a personal and communal creed—there’d be little to oppose. But Cosby often pits the rhetoric of personal responsibility against the legitimate claims of American citizens for their rights. He chides activists for pushing to reform the criminal-justice system, despite solid evidence that the criminal-justice system needs reform. His historical amnesia—his assertion that many of the problems that pervade black America are of a recent vintage—is simply wrong, as is his contention that today’s young African Americans are somehow weaker, that they’ve dropped the ball. And for all its positive energy, his language of uplift has its limitations. After the Million Man March, black men embraced a sense of hope and promise. We were supposed to return to our communities and families inspired by a new feeling of responsibility. Yet here we are again, almost 15 years later, with seemingly little tangible change. I’d take my son to see Bill Cosby, to hear his message, to revel in its promise and optimism. But afterward, he and I would have a very long talk.

On the day last summer when Cosby met me for lunch in the West Village, it was raining, as it had been all week, and New York was experiencing a record-cold August. Cosby had just come from Max Roach’s funeral and was dressed in a natty three-piece suit. Despite the weather, the occasion, and the oddly empty dining room, Cosby was energized. He had spent the previous day in Philadelphia, where he spoke to a group in a housing project, met with state health officials, and participated in a community march against crime. Grassroots black activists in his hometown were embracing his call. He planned, over the coming year, to continue his call-outs and release a hip-hop album. (He has also noted, however, that there won’t be any profanity on it.)

Cosby was feeling warm and nostalgic. He asked why I had not brought my son, and I instantly regretted dropping him off at my partner’s workplace for a couple of hours. He talked about breaking his shoulder playing school football, after his grandfather had tried to get him to quit. “Granddad Cosby got on the trolley and came over to the apartment,” he recalled. “I was so embarrassed. I was laid out on the sofa. He was talking to my parents, and I was waiting for the moment when he would say, ‘See, I told you, Junior.’ He came back and reached in his pocket and gave me a quarter. He said, ‘Go to the corner and get some ice cream. It has calcium in it.’”

Much pop psychology has been devoted to Cosby’s transformation into such a high-octane, high-profile activist. His nemesis Dyson says that Cosby, in his later years, is following in the dishonorable tradition of upper-class African Americans who denounce their less fortunate brethren. Others have suggested more-sinister motivations—that Cosby is covering for his own alleged transgressions. (In 2006, Cosby settled a civil lawsuit filed by a woman who claimed that he had sexually assaulted her; other women have come forward with similar allegations that have not gone to court.) But the depth of his commitment would seem to belie such suspicions, and in any case, they do not seem to have affected his hold on his audience: in the November Pew survey, 85 percent of all African American respondents considered him a “good influence” on the black community, above Obama (76 percent) and second only to Oprah Winfrey (87 percent).

Part of what drives Cosby’s activism, and reinforces his message, is the rage that lives in all African Americans, a collective feeling of disgrace that borders on self-hatred. As the comedian Chris Rock put it in one of his infamous routines, “Everything white people don’t like about black people, black people really don’t like about black people … It’s like a civil war going on with black people, and it’s two sides—there’s black people and there’s niggas, and niggas have got to go … Boy, I wish they’d let me join the Ku Klux Klan. Shit, I’d do a drive-by from here to Brooklyn.” (Rock stopped performing the routine when he noticed that his white fans were laughing a little too hard.) Liberalism, with its pat logic and focus on structural inequities, offers no balm for this sort of raw pain. Like the people he preaches to, Cosby has grown tired of hanging his head.

This disquiet spans generations, but it is most acute among those of the civil-rights era. “I don’t know a better term than angst,” says Johnnetta Cole. “I refuse to categorize every young African American with the same language, but there are some ‘young’uns’—and some of us who are not ‘young’uns’—who must turn around and look at where we are, because where we’re headed isn’t pretty.” Like many of the stars of the civil-rights movement, Cole has gifts that go beyond social activism. She rose out of the segregated South and went to college at age 15, eventually earning a bachelor’s from Oberlin and a doctorate in anthropology from Northwestern.

That same sort of dynamism exists today among many younger blacks, but what troubles the older generation is that their energy seems directed at other pursuits besides social uplift.Cosby is fond of saying that sacrifices of the ’60s weren’t made so that rappers and young people could repeatedly use the word nigger. But that’s exactly why they were made. After all, chief among all individual rights awarded Americans is the right to be mediocre, crass, and juvenile—in other words, the right to be human. But Cosby is aiming for something superhuman—twice as good, as the elders used to say—and his homily to a hazy black past seems like an effort to redeem something more than the present...”

#bill cosby #ta-nehisi coates #america #trump #culture #White People

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fiftyshadesofdimmadome · 6 years

Text

Book 1; Chapter 19

Soft lips brush across my temple, leaving sweet tender kisses in their wake, and part of me wants to turn and respond, but mostly I want to stay asleep. I moan and burrow into my pillow.

“Anastasia, wake up.” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome’s voice is soft, cajoling.

“No,” I moan.

“We have to leave in half an hour for dinner at my parents.” He’s amused.

I open my eyes reluctantly. It’s dusk outside. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome is leaning over, gazing at me intently.

“Come on sleepy-head. Get up.” He stoops down and kisses me again.

“I’ve bought you a drink. I’ll be downstairs. Don’t go back to sleep, or you’ll be in trouble,” he threatens, but his tone is mild. He kisses me briefly and exits, leaving me blinking sleep from my eyes in the cool, stark room.

I’m refreshed but suddenly nervous. Holy cow, I am meeting his folks! He’s just worked me over with a riding crop and tied me up using a cable tie which I sold him, for heaven’s sake and I’m going to meet his parents. It will be Kate��s first time meeting them too at least she’ll be there for support. I roll my shoulders. They’re stiff. His demands for a personal trainer don’t seem so outlandish now, in fact, they’re mandatory if I am to have any hope of keeping up with him.

I climb slowly out of bed and note that my dress is hanging outside the wardrobe and my bra is on the chair. Where are my panties? I check beneath the chair. Nothing. Then I remember he squirreled them away in the pocket of his jeans. I flush at the memory, after he, I can’t even bring myself to think about it, he was so barbarous. I frown. Why hasn’t he given me back my panties?

I steal into the bathroom, bewildered by my lack of underwear. While drying myself after my enjoyable but far too brief shower, I realize he’s done this on purpose. He wants me to be embarrassed and ask for my panties back, and he’ll either say yes or no. My inner goddess grins at me. Hell... two can play that particular game. Resolving there and then not to ask him for them and not give him that satisfaction, I shall go meet his parents sans culottes. Anastasia Steele! My subconscious chides me, but I don’t want to listen to her I almost hug myself with glee because I know this will drive him crazy.

Back in the bedroom, I put on my bra, slip into my dress, and climb into my shoes. I remove the braid and hastily brush out my hair, I then glance down at the drink he’s left.

It’s pale pink. What’s this? Cranberry and sparkling water. Hmm... it tastes delicious and quenches my thirst.

Dashing back into the bathroom, I check myself in the mirror: eyes bright, cheeks slightly flushed, slightly smug look because of my panty plan, and I head downstairs. Fif teen minutes. Not bad, Ana.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome is standing by the panoramic window, wearing the grey flannel pants that I love, the ones that hang in that unbelievably sexy way off his hips, and of course, a white linen shirt. Doesn’t he have any other colors? Frank Sinatra sings softly over the surround sound speakers.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome turns and smiles as I enter. He looks at me expectantly.

“Hi,” I say softly, and my sphinx-like smile meets his.

“Hi,” he says. “How are you feeling?” His eyes are alight with amusement.

“Good, thanks. You?”

“I feel mighty fine, Miss Steele.”

He is so waiting for me to say something.

“Frank. I never figured you for a Sinatra fan.”

He raises his eyebrows at me, his look speculative.

“Eclectic taste, Miss Steele,” he murmurs, and he paces toward me like a panther until he’s standing in front of me, his gaze so intense it takes my breath away.

Frank starts crooning... an old song, one of Ray’s favorites. ‘Witchcraft.’ Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome leisurely traces his fingertips down my cheek, and I feel it all the way down there.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs, his voice husky.

Taking the remote out of his pocket, he turns up the volume and holds his hand out to me, his gray gaze full of promise and longing and humor. He is totally beguiling, and I’m bewitched. I place my hand in his. He grins lazily down at me and pulls me into his embrace, his arm curling around my waist, and he starts to sway.

I put my free hand on his shoulder and grin up at him, caught in his infectious, playful mood. And he starts to move. Boy can he dance. We cover the floor, from the window to the kitchen and back again, whirling and turning in time to the music. And he makes it so effortless for me to follow.

We glide around the dining table, over to the piano, and backwards and forwards in front of the glass wall, Seattle twinkling outside, a dark and magical mural to our dance, and I can’t help my carefree laugh. He grins down at me as the song comes to a close.

“There’s no nicer witch than you,” he murmurs, then kisses me sweetly. “Well, that’s bought some color to your cheeks, Miss Steele. Thank you for the dance. Shall we go and meet my parents?”

“You’re welcome, and yes, I can’t wait to meet them,” I answer breathlessly.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Oh, yes,” I respond sweetly.

“Are you sure?”

I nod as nonchalantly as I can manage under his intense, amused scrutiny. His face splits into a huge grin, and he shakes his head.

“Okay. If that’s the way you want to play it, Miss Steele.”

He grabs my hand, collects his jacket which is hanging on one of the barstools, and leads me through the foyer to the elevator. Oh, the many faces of Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. Will I ever be able to understand this mercurial man?

I peek up at him in the elevator. He’s enjoying a private joke, a trace of a smile flirting with his beautiful mouth. I fear that it may be at my expense. What was I thinking? I’m going to see his parents, and I’m not wearing any underwear. My subconscious gives me an unhelpful I told you so expression. In the relative safety of his apartment, it seemed like a fun, teasing idea. Now, I’m almost outside with No Panties! He peers down at me, and it’s there, the charge building between us. The amused look disappears from his face and his expression clouds, his eyes dark... oh my.

The elevator doors open on the ground floor. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome shakes his head slightly as if to clear his thoughts and gestures for me to exit before him in a most gentlemanly manner. Who’s he kidding? He’s no gentleman. He has my panties.

Taylor draws up in the large Audi. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome opens the rear door for me, and I climb in side as elegantly as I can, considering my state of wanton undress. I’m grateful that Kate’s plum dress is so clingy and hangs to the top of my knees.

We speed up the 1-5, both of us quiet, no doubt inhibited by Taylor’s steady presence in the front. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome’s mood is almost tangible and seems to shift, the humor dissipating slowly as we head north. He’s brooding, staring out of the window, and I can feel him slipping away from me. What is he thinking? I can’t ask him. What can I say in front of Taylor?

“Where did you learn to dance?” I ask tentatively. He turns to gaze at me, his eyes unreadable beneath the intermittent light of the passing street lamps.

“Do you really want to know?” he replies softly.

My heart sinks, and now I don’t because I can guess.

“Yes,” I murmur, reluctantly.

“Mrs. Robinson was fond of dancing.”

Oh, my worst suspicions confirmed. She has taught him well, and the thought de presses me there’s nothing I can teach him. I have no special skills.

“She must have been a good teacher.”

“She was,” he says softly.

My scalp prickles. Did she have the best of him? Before he became so closed? Or did she bring him out of himself? He has such a fun, playful side. I smile involuntarily as I recall being in his arms as he spun me around his living room, so unexpected, and he has my panties, somewhere.

And then there’s the Red Room of Pain. I rub my wrists reflexively thin strips of plastic will do that to a girl. She taught him all that too or ruined him, depending on one’s point of view. Or perhaps he would have found his way there anyway in spite of Mrs. R.

I realize, in that moment, that I hate her. I hope that I never meet her because I will not be responsible for my actions if I do. I can’t remember ever feeling this passionately about anyone, especially someone I’ve never met. Gazing unseeing out of the window, I nurse my irrational anger and jealousy.

My mind drifts back to the afternoon. Given what I understand of his preferences, I think he’s been easy on me. Would I do it again? I can’t even pretend to put up an argu ment against that. Of course I would, if he asked me as long as he didn’t hurt me and if it’s the only way to be with him.

That’s the bottom line. I want to be with him. My inner goddess sighs with relief. I reach the conclusion that she rarely uses her brain to think but another vital part of her anatomy, and at the moment, it’s a rather exposed part.

“Don’t,” he murmurs.

I frown and turn to look at him.

“Don’t what?” I haven’t touched him.

“Over-think things, Anastasia.” Reaching out, he grasps my hand, draws it up to his lips, and kisses my knuckles gently. “I had a wonderful afternoon. Thank you.”

And he’s back with me again. I blink up at him and smile shyly. He’s so confusing. I ask a question that’s been bugging me.

“Why did you use a cable tie?”

He grins at me.

“It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s something different for you to feel and experience. I know they’re quite brutal, and I do like that in a restraining device.” He smiles at me mildly.

“Very effective at keeping you in your place.”

I flush and glance nervously at Taylor, who remains impassive, eyes on road. What am I supposed to say to that? Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome shrugs innocently.

“All part of my world, Anastasia.” He squeezes my hand and lets go, staring out of the window again.

His world indeed, and I want to belong in it, but on his terms? I just don’t know. He hasn’t mentioned that damned contract. My inner musings do nothing to cheer me. I stare out of the window and the landscape has changed. We’re crossing one of the bridges, sur rounded by inky darkness. The somber night reflects my introspective mood, closing in, suffocating.

I glance briefly at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, and he’s staring at me.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks.

I sigh and frown.

“That bad, huh?”

“I wish I knew what you were thinking.”

He smirks at me.

“Ditto, baby,” he says softly as Taylor speeds into the night toward Bellevue.

It is just before eight when the Audi draws into the driveway of a colonial-style mansion.

It’s breathtaking, even down to the roses around the door. Picture-book perfect.

“Are you ready for this?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks as Taylor pulls up outside the impressive front

door.

I nod, and he gives my hand another reassuring squeeze.

“First for me too,” he whispers, then smiles wickedly. “Bet you wish you were wear ing your underwear right now,” he teases.

I flush. I’d forgotten my missing panties. Fortunately, Taylor has climbed out of the car and is opening my door so he can’t hear our exchange. I scowl at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome who grins broadly as I turn and climb out of the car.

Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome is on the doorstep waiting for us. She looks elegantly so phisticated in a pale blue silk dress; behind her stands Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, I presume, tall, blond, and as handsome in his own way as Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.

“Anastasia, you’ve met my mother, Grace. This is my dad, Carrick.”

“Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, what a pleasure to meet you.” I smile and shake his outstretched hand.

“The pleasure is all mine, Anastasia.”

“Please call me, Ana.”

His blue eyes are soft and gentle.

“Ana, how lovely to see you again.” Grace wraps me in a warm hug. “Come in, my dear.”

“Is she here?” I hear a screech from within the house. I glance nervously at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.

“That would be Mia, my little sister,” he says almost irritably, but not quite.

There’s an undercurrent of affection in his words, the way his voice grows softer and his eyes crinkle as he mentions her name. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome obviously adores her. It’s a revelation. And she comes barreling down the hall, raven haired, tall, and curvaceous. She’s about my age.

“Anastasia! I’ve heard so much about you.” She hugs me hard.

Holy Cow. I can’t help but smile at her boundless enthusiasm.

“Ana, please,” I murmur as she drags me into the large vestibule. It’s all dark wood floors and antique rugs with a sweeping staircase to the second floor.

“He’s never brought a girl home before,” says Mia, dark eyes bright with excitement.

I glimpse Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome rolling his eyes, and I raise an eyebrow at him. He narrows his eyes at me.

“Mia, calm down,” Grace admonishes softly. “Hello, darling,” she says as she kisses Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome on both cheeks. He smiles down at her warmly, and then shakes hands with his father.

We all turn and head into the living room. Mia has not let go of my hand. The room is spacious, tastefully furnished in creams, browns, and pale blue, comfortable, understated, and very stylish. Kate and Elliot are cuddled together on a couch, clutching champagne flutes. Kate bounces up to embrace me, and Mia finally releases my hand.

“Hi, Ana!” She beams. “Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.” She nods curtly to him.

“Kate.” He is equally formal with her.

I frown at their exchange. Elliot grasps me in an all-embracing hug. What is this, hug Ana week? This dazzling display of affection I’m just not used to it. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome stands at my side, wrapping his arm around me. Placing his hand on my hip, he spreads out his fingers and pulls me close. Everyone is staring at us. It’s unnerving.

“Drinks?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome seems to recover himself. “Prosecco?”

“Please,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and I speak in unison.

Oh... this is beyond weird. Mia claps her hands.

“You’re even saying the same things. I’ll get them.” She scoots out of the room.

I flush scarlet, and seeing Kate sitting with Elliot, it occurs to me suddenly that the only reason Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome invited me is because Kate is here. Elliot probably freely and happily asked Kate to meet his parents. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome was trapped knowing that I would have found out via Kate. I frown at the thought. He’s been forced into the invitation. The realization is bleak and depressing. My subconscious nods sagely, a you’ve-finally-worked-it-out stupid look on her face.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Grace says as she follows Mia out of the room.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome frowns as he gazes at me.

“Sit,” he commands, pointing to the plush couch, and I do as I’m told, carefully cross ing my legs. He sits down beside me but doesn’t touch me.

“We were just talking about vacations, Ana,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome says kindly. “Elliot has decided to follow Kate and her family to Barbados for a week.”

I glance at Kate, and she grins, her eyes bright and wide. She’s delighted. Katherine Kavanagh, show some dignity!

“Are you taking a break now you’ve finished your degree?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks.

“I’m thinking about going to Georgia for a few days,” I reply.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome gapes at me, blinking a couple of times, his expression unreadable. Oh shit.

I haven’t mentioned this to him.

“Georgia?” he murmurs.

“My mother lives there, and I haven’t seen her for a while.”

“When were you thinking of going?” His voice is low.

“Tomorrow, late evening.”

Mia saunters back into the living room and hands us champagne flutes filled with pale pink Prosecco.

“Your good health!” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome raises his glass. An appropriate toast from a doctor’s husband, it makes me smile.

“For how long?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks, his voice deceptively soft.

Holy crap... he’s angry.

“I don’t know yet. It will depend how my interviews go tomorrow.”

His jaw clenches, and Kate gets that interfering look on her face. She smiles over sweetly.

“Ana deserves a break,” she says pointedly at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. Why is she so antagonistic towards him? What is her problem?

“You have interviews?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks.

“Yes, for internships at two publishers, tomorrow.”

“I wish you the best of luck.”

“Dinner is on the table,” Grace announces.

We all stand. Kate and Elliot follow Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and Mia out of the room. I go to follow, but Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome clutches my elbow, bringing me to an abrupt halt.

“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?” he asks urgently. His tone is soft, but he’s masking his anger.

“I’m not leaving, I’m going to see my mother, and I was only thinking about it.”

“What about our arrangement?”

“We don’t have an arrangement yet.”

He narrows his eyes, and then seems to remember himself. Releasing my hand, he takes my elbow and leads me out of the room.

“This conversation is not over,” he whispers threateningly as we enter the dining room.

Oh, crapola. Don’t get your panties in such a twist. . . and give me back mine. I glare at him.

The dining room reminds me of our private dinner at the Heathman. A crystal chan delier hangs over the dark wood table and there’s a massive, ornately carved mirror on the wall. The table is laid and covered with a crisp white linen tablecloth, a bowl of pale pink peonies as the center piece. It’s stunning.

We take our places. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome is at the head of the table, while I sit at his right hand, and Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome is seated beside me. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome reaches for the opened bottle of red wine and offers some to Kate. Mia takes her seat beside Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, and grabbing his hand, squeezes it tightly. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome smiles warmly at her.

“Where did you meet, Ana?” Mia asks him.

“She interviewed me for the WSU student magazine.”

“Which Kate edits,” I add, hoping to steer the conversation away from me.

Mia beams at Kate, seated opposite next to Elliot, and they start talking about the stu dent magazine.

“Wine, Ana?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks.

“Please.” I smile at him. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome rises to fill the rest of the glasses.

I peek up at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, and he turns to look at me, his head cocked to one side.

“What?” he asks.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” I whisper.

“I’m not mad at you.”

I stare at him. He sighs.

“Yes, I am mad at you.” He closes his eyes briefly.

“Palm-twitchingly mad?” I ask nervously.

“What are you two whispering about?” Kate interjects.

I flush, and Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome glares at her in a butt-out-of-this-Kavanagh kind of way even Kate wilts under his stare.

“Just about my trip to Georgia,” I say sweetly, hoping to diffuse their mutual hostility.

Kate smiles, a wicked gleam in her eye.

“How was Jose when you went to the bar with him on Friday?”

Holy fuck, Kate. I widen my eyes at her. What is she doing? She widens her eyes back at me, and I realize she’s trying to make Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome jealous. How little she knows. I thought I’d got away with this.

“He was fine,” I murmur.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome leans over.

“Palm-twitchingly mad,” he whispers. “Especially now.” His tone is quiet and deadly.

Oh no. I squirm.

Grace reappears carrying two plates, followed by a pretty young woman with blonde pigtails, dressed smartly in pale blue, carrying a tray of plates. Her eyes immediately find Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome in the room. She blushes and gazes at him from under her lonq mascara’d lashes. What!

Somewhere in the house the phone starts ringing.

“Excuse me,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome rises again and exits.

“Thank you, Gretchen,” Grace says gently, frowning as Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome exits. “Just leave the tray on the console.” Gretchen nods, and with another furtive glance at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, she leaves.

So the Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadomes have staff, and the staff are eyeing up my would-be Dominant. Can this evening get any worse? I scowl at my hands in my lap.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome returns.

“Call for you, darling. It’s the hospital,” he says to Grace.

“Please start, everyone.” Grace smiles as she hands me a plate and leaves.

It smells delicious chorizo and scallops with roasted red peppers and shallots, sprin kled with flat leafed parsley. And in spite of the fact that my stomach is churning from Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome’s veiled threats, the surreptitious glances from pretty little Miss Pigtails, and the debacle of my missing underwear, I am starving. I flush as I realize it’s the physical effort of this afternoon that’s given me such an appetite.

Moments later Grace returns, her brow furrowed. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome cocks his head to one side... like Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.

“Everything okay?”

“Another measles case,” Grace sighs.

“Oh no.”

“Yes, a child. The fourth case this month. If only people would get their kids vacci nated.” She shakes her head sadly, and then smiles. “I’m so glad our children never went through that. They never caught anything worse than chicken pox, thank goodness. Poor Elliot,” she says as she sits down, smiling indulgently at her son. Elliot frowns mid chew and squirms uncomfortably. “Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and Mia were lucky. They got it so mildly, only a spot to share between them.”

Mia giggles, and Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome rolls his eyes.

“So, did you catch the Mariners game, Dad?” Elliot’s clearly keen to move the con versation on.

The hors d’oeuvres are delicious, and I concentrate on eating while Elliot, Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, and Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome talk baseball. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome seems relaxed and calm talking to his family. My mind is working furiously. Damn Kate, what game is she playing? Will he punish me? I

quail at the thought. I haven’t signed that contract yet. Perhaps I won’t. Perhaps I’ll stay in Georgia where he can’t reach me.

“How are you settling into your new apartment dear?” Grace asks politely.

I’m grateful for her question, distracting me from my discordant thoughts, and I tell her about our move.

As we finish our starters, Gretchen appears, and not for the first time, I wish I felt able to put my hands freely on Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome just to let her know he may be fifty shades of fucked up, but he’s mine. She proceeds to clear the table, brushing rather too closely to Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome for my liking. Fortunately, he seems oblivious to her, but my inner goddess is smoldering and not in a good way.

Kate and Mia are waxing lyrical about Paris.

“Have you been to Paris, Ana?” Mia asks innocently, distracting me from my jealous reverie.

“No, but I’d love to go.” I know I’m the only one at the table who has never left main land USA.

“We honeymooned in Paris.” Grace smiles at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome who grins back at her.

It’s almost embarrassing to witness. They obviously love each other deeply, and I wonder for a brief moment what it must be like to grow up with both one’s parents in situ.

“It’s a beautiful city,” Mia agrees. “In spite of the Parisians. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, you should take Ana to Paris,” Mia states firmly.

“I think Anastasia would prefer London,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome says softly.

Oh. . . he remembered. He places his hand on my knee his fingers traveling up my thigh. My whole body tightens in response. No... not here, not now. I flush and shift, try ing to pull away from him. His hand clamps down on my thigh, stilling me. I reach for my wine, in desperation.

Little Miss European Pigtails returns, all coy glances and swaying hips, with our en tree, a Beef Wellington, I think. Fortunately, she gives us our plates and then leaves, al though she lingers handing Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome his. He looks quizzically at me as I watch her close the dining room door.

“So what was wrong with the Parisians?” Elliot asks his sister. “Didn’t they take to your winsome ways?”

“Ugh, no they didn’t. And Monsieur Floubert, the ogre I was working for, he was such a domineering tyrant.”

I splutter into my wine.

“Anastasia, are you okay?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome asks solicitously, taking his hand off my thigh.

Humor has returned to his voice. Oh thank heavens. When I nod, he pats my back gently, and only removes his hand when he knows I’ve recovered.

The beef is delicious and served with roasted sweet potatoes, carrots, parsnips, and green beans. It is even more palatable since Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome manages to retain his good-humor for the rest of the meal. I suspect that it’s because I’m eating so heartily. The conversation flows freely among the Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadomes, warm and caring, gently teasing each other. Over our des sert of lemon syllabub, Mia regales us with her exploits in Paris, lapsing at one point into fluent French. We all stare at her, and she stares back puzzled, until Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome tells her in

equally fluent French what she’s done, whereupon she bursts into a fit of giggles. She has a very infectious laugh and soon we’re all in stitches.

Elliot holds forth about his latest building project, a new eco-friendly community to the north of Seattle. I glance up at Kate, and she’s hanging on every word Elliot says, her eyes glowing with lust or love. I haven’t quite worked out which yet. He grins down at her, and it’s as if an unspoken promise passes between them. Laters, baby, he’s saying, and it’s hot, freaking hot. I flush just watching them.

I sigh and peek up at Fifty Shades. He’s so beautiful, I could stare at him forever. He has light stubble over his chin, and my fingers itch to scratch it and feel it against my face, against my breasts... between my thighs. I blush at the direction of my thoughts. He peers down at me and raises his hand to pull at my chin.

“Don’t bite your lip,” he murmurs huskily. “I want to do that.”

Grace and Mia clear our dessert glasses and head to the kitchen, while Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, Kate, and Elliot discuss the merits of solar panels in Washington State. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, feigning inter est in their conversation, puts his hand once more on my knee, and his fingers travel up my thigh. My breathing hitches, and I press my thighs together in a bid to halt his progress. I can see him smirk.

“Shall I give you a tour of the grounds?” he asks me quite openly.

I know I’m meant to say yes, but I don’t trust him. Before I can answer however, he’s on his feet and holding his hand out to me. I place my hand in his, and I feel all the muscles clench deep in my belly, responding to his dark, hungry gray gaze.

“Excuse me,” I say to Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and follow Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome out of the dining room.

He leads me through the hallway and into the kitchen where Mia and Grace are stack ing the dishwasher. European Pigtails is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m going to show Anastasia the backyard,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome says innocently to his mother. She waves us out with a smile as Mia heads back to the dining room.

We step out onto a grey flagstone patio area lit by recessed lights in the flagstones. There are shrubs in grey stone tubs and a chic metal table and chairs set up in one corner. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome walks past those, up some steps, and onto a vast lawn that leads down to the bay... oh my it’s beautiful. Seattle twinkles on the horizon, and the cool, bright, May moon etches a sparkling silver path across the water toward a jetty where two boats are moored. Beside the jetty stands a boathouse. It is so picturesque, so peaceful. I stand and gape for a moment.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome pulls me behind him, and my heels sink into the soft grass.

“Stop, please.” I am stumbling in his wake.

He stops and gazes at me, his expression unfathomable.

“My heels. I need to take my shoes off.”

“Don’t bother,” he says, and he bends down and scoops me over his shoulder. I squeal loudly with shocked surprise, and he gives me a ringing slap on my behind.

“Keep your voice down,” he growls.

Oh no... this is not good, my subconscious is quaking at the knees. He’s mad about something could be Jose, Georgia, no panties, biting my lip. Jeez, he’s easy to rile.

“Where are we going?” I breathe.

“Boathouse,” he snaps.

I hang on to his hips as I’m tipped upside-down, and he strides purposefully in the moonlight across the lawn.

“Why?” I sound breathless, bouncing on this shoulder.

“I need to be alone with you.”

“What for?”

“Because I’m going to spank and then fuck you.”

“Why?” I whimper softly.

“You know why,” he hisses.

“I thought you were an in-the-moment guy?” I plead breathlessly.

“Anastasia, I’m in the moment, trust me.”

Holy fuck.

#fsodd #fifty shades of dimmadome

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