#this is my baby fr

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

#this is my baby fr #really feeling the tragic hero vibe down to my core #will prob do a part 2 from reader's POV! #ofc inspired by get him back! bc nemesis!reader.... #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan smut #saf writes #Spotify

[ofthecaravel]

Brandy

Chapter One

Summary: A port on a western bay serves a hundred ships a day, and the lonely sailors flock to the Caravel Cantina, run by the Kiszka brothers (minus one). But when their brother returns with a handsome sailor in tow, the youngest Kiszka brother finds his perspective about his family and himself turned upside down.

Tags: Brotherly shenanigans as always, mentions of parental death, a little squabbling, flirting, minor angst

Words: Lil under 10k (whoops)

A/N: I started this literally a year ago. God help me. Inspired by Brandy by Looking Glass and Sam and Danny being goofuses. I really hope y'all like this because there is so much more to post 😭

~~~

As always, the Kiszka brothers had gotten to work a little earlier than they needed to.

The elder of them, Joshua, had always believed that a clean bar would result in an easygoing night, so they often found themselves slipping in through the back door around 5pm on nights they didn't even open and staying until 8pm to mop the floors and replace anything that had been tarnished in nights previous. Josh and his spritely spirit found it invigorating to fiddle with such things as measuring the level of alcohol in their assortment of kegs and casks, or the arrangement of glasses and the security of the coat hooks. But Sam, the youngest of his siblings and the only other one who tended to the family business on a regular basis, usually found himself walking away from all of the menial chores Josh assigned him. He was annoyed enough that he'd had to start full time as their one and only waiter since their brother Jake had left the family business to his twin and little brother to chase his dream of sailing the high seas three years ago. Since then, Josh and Sam had struggled to manage the popular bar all on their own, stretch their very small budget out between the business and themselves, and not murder each other in the process. Sam thought he deserved a little break before work, and the seemingly pointless tasks that Josh insisted he do to help out were not exactly morale boosters. He was coming up on a year of Josh's least favorite pre-shift ritual of his, which included leaning his head against the window tucked into the corner that faced true north and staring in unblinking, unmoving silence. 

It was a clear, early June evening when from his post wiping down the keg spigots, Josh noticed Sam drifting out of the corner of his eye. He sighed when he realized where his younger brother now stood.

"Will you get away from the window? I just cleaned it and you're gonna fog it up again with all your longing sighs."

Sam tossed a sour look over his shoulder at his brother, who stood behind the bar with a rag slung over his shoulder and a judgmental look on his face. Josh pulled the rag down and across the already gleaming wood in front of him and shook his head in near pity, his hand working anxious circles on the surface as it had done every night for nearly 7 years now. 

"I'm not fogging it up," Sam argued. "What, I'm not allowed to look out the window of my own bar?"

"Not if you're going to get your fish breath all over my nice, clean glass," Josh shot back with a barely contained smile, looking down amusedly while Sam scoffed.

He rolled his eyes all the way around to look back out the window, his keen eyes trained on the bustle of the harbor town coming alive as the sun slowly sank deeper into the twilight sky. Lamps were starting to blink awake in the windows of the weathered brick buildings surrounding their little bar, casting their amber light on the cobblestone that the fishmongers tread on with their stained aprons still tightly tied as they headed homeward bound. Sam sported a similar apron that he kept hiked up flatteringly around his waist, worn begrudgingly and scattered with its own fair share of stains and stories. But unlike the fishmongers that passed him by without so much as a glance, he was in for the night,  his shift starting when the first patron inevitably burst in with a thirst for comradery and the extra strong spirits and liqueurs that Sam and his brothers distilled themselves. 

They all specialized in their own kinds, and as their regulars eventually went on to point out, they all suited their specialties very nicely. Josh with his appropriately rosy cheeks and boisterous, people pleasing nature was a natural when it came to bold, sweet wines. Jake had a knack for whipping up a whiskey with a sharp bite and smooth burn, but just like the man himself, those bottles were usually gone from the bar and ran out fast when they were. But Sam was the only one with the patience and palate to tend to the bar's most sought after delicacy: casks of sweet brandy that he laid down in crystal glasses bought off a merchant ship with his private stash of tips. The men that frequented the bar the most had long since stopped referring to him by name, simply raising their hands to catch his eye as he made his rounds and calling out "Brandy!".

Much to his chagrin, his name slowly started to get left at home, and he was soon known solely as "Brandy" to the bar goers of The Caravel Cantina. Only Josh called him Sam at work, knowing it was a surefire way to get his attention as he tended to the mobs of ever parched, low lidded men. Josh called it then, recognizing the mournful look his little brother was casting towards the docks that lay just out of sight of the northern window that his head was lolled against. Sam startled again and fully turned away, pressing his hand briefly to his forehead to feel how his skin had cooled against the pane.

"What?" Sam asked in annoyance, already feeling his ears perk as he thought about the water and its many ships that now lay at his back. As Josh shook his head at him again, he absently wondered if he would be able to recognize the ship he was waiting for by the creak of its sails or how its bow sliced into the dark seawater that pooled around their port. "You wanted something?"

"I want you to get away from my goddamn window and do your job, you hooligan," Josh scolded lightheartedly, tossing his rag with force into Sam's slight chest, who caught it with an audible "oof".  

"Nobody's even here yet," Sam pointed out, gesturing dramatically with the cloth out at the warmly lit yet definitely empty sea of cramped tables and chairs with its lone jukebox pressed against the wall. 

"Sam," Josh said again, his voice softer this time. He let out an even softer sigh and cocked his head at his brother, giving him a small smile. "They're not coming tonight. You got to give it up, bud."

Sam hesitated, slightly stunned that Josh had been able to read his mind so easily, but after a lifetime of close quarters and shared secrets, he could only be so surprised. 

"Jake said they'd be back in the summertime," Sam said carefully, echoing his brother's words of encouragement from the year prior. "The fishermen are starting to bring in albacore and those big, pink shrimps and you know damn well those are only in season when the weather has turned. It is officially summer, thank you very much."

"Hell, you think sailors measure the seasons by the fuckin' fish?" Josh barked out a condescending laugh. "They're not out there to pick salt off of shrimp and clams. You think Jake captains that hunk of junk across the Atlantic to get the ol' pole out and let it fly?"

Sam's cheeks flushed in embarrassment and he furrowed his dark brow with a frown, casting his eyes down as he wrung the filthy bar rag between his lithe hands. 

"Jake knows," Sam muttered. "And he promised."

"Because his promises are so reliable," Josh said sarcastically, a genuine hint of bitterness slipping out as he started stacking glasses aggressively. "Something tells me it's not him who made you that promise, Sammy."

"The sun is staying up for longer, too," Sam pointed out, skillfully ignoring Josh's accusation. "He'll notice that the daylight is blazing beautifully on their masts for an hour longer or whatever pretentious garbage sentiment he writes in his journal. Or do they not have the sun out on the sea, wise guy?"

"Sam."

Sam finally met Josh's gaze and felt a guilty curl in his stomach from the glint in his brother's tired, brown eyes.

"Why don't you have a drink and remember how sweet the fruit of your patience can be, hm?" 

"Yeah," Sam replied simply, feeling a slight shame that he was only adding to ever growing list of Josh's stressors. "Okay. Might help with the rush tonight."

"Rush?" Josh looked lost for a moment before he gripped the glass in his hand even tighter and spun to look at the bar's beloved Mermaid of the Month calendar. "It's Saturday? I thought it was a fucking Friday, fuck!"

"Oh, and Fridays are any better for us?" Sam laughed, dipping behind the bar with his frazzled brother to grab a glass and pouring himself a shallow drink of golden brandy from its coveted bottle. 

Outside, Sam could already hear laughter carrying from down the street that would soon arrive as a pack of rowdy men ready to unwind after a long day by the docks. They surely wouldn't be the last group to swarm their painfully understaffed yet ultimately well loved cantina, and as Sam was throwing back the last of his drink and watching the panic sizzle off of Josh's abundance of curls, the door slammed open and the space filled with thundering voices and cackles.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Josh greeted jovially, his visible anxiety peeling off of him in an instant as men started to take seats at the bar and drag tables together. "What can I do you for?"

"I sure could use a tall, sweet drink of brandy," one of the grizzled regulars purred, giving a sharp toothed grin to Sam, who had already grabbed his tray and slipped from behind the bar and out into the fray. Josh bristled at the man's comment as he skillfully poured him up a glass and watched his brother sidle up to a throng of butchers, who were giving him a look they usually saved for their finest cuts of meat. Josh knew what the men in the bar thought about his brother's feminine features and hospitable grace. He heard what they said about his body and long hair as he slinked through crowds and brushed hands with eager patrons, flashing his wide smile and playing into their little jokes. Of course Sam knew too, and it's not like The Caravel was the kind of place that would let anything like that go by without getting a boot to the ass, but Josh couldn't help but feel protective of him nonetheless. 

"Cool it, Caldwell," Josh said with a slight bite in his gravelly voice as he set down the drink in front of the sharp toothed man. "We wouldn't want the missus knowing what you say about my brother after a few of those tall and sweets, now would we?"

"You're no fun, Kiszka," Caldwell mumbled into his drink, his mustache dipping into the liquor as his grubby pals quickly roped him into a conversation and left Josh to his pouring and coin collecting. 

Across the bar, the jukebox blared to life, and Sam felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sound. The jukebox's chronically high volume meant he had an excuse not to hear everybody's little comments to and about him as he dutifully dished out spilling glasses and salty scoops of peanuts. However, as the song stretched out beyond the first 30 seconds of instrumental, the wave inside Sam came crashing down as he recognized the song's bright lyrics and the vocals they danced on. He swallowed an emotion he'd been biting back since he'd first felt the temperature begin to rise, and as he placed a ring of shots on his metal tray with shaking hands that made the metal and glass clatter in time to the beat, Sam relived a burst of last summer for what felt like the hundredth time.  

-

One Year Earlier

-

Against his will, Sundays had become the designated day for Josh and Sam to come to the bar during the daytime and work on any repairs that couldn't be done in their little interludes before regular nights. The Caravel was closed on Sundays, and despite Sam's consistent protests that that logic should also be applied to its employees, Josh insisted that it was a great opportunity to fix it up for the upcoming week. 

Despite the fact that he and Josh hadn't got home until 3am, Sam woke up with the sun that Sunday. As he lay in bed and focused only on the feel of the linen sheets on his bare skin and the distant whistle of the wind outside, he tried to think back on the last time he had gotten a full night's sleep. 

He figured it had to be around the time that he'd last seen Jake, right before he had left to join a crew on a merchant ship that he made seem a lot cooler than it probably actually was.

"The captain says we're going to sail to all kinds of places," Jake had told him, perched on the end of Sam's bed with a map so wide it sprawled across their knees and grazed the edge of his pillow. "Not just Europe, but Africa, too. Maybe even Asia."

"I don't even understand what you'll be doing," Sam had mumbled darkly, bitterly watching Jake's fingers trace over imaginary waves in the yellowed sea on the paper, charting routes he was yet to go on. Without them. 

"We'll be transporting cargo to ports all across the world," Jake had explained proudly, not understanding the disdain that Sam felt towards his sudden career change. "Not every harbor is as drab as this one. There are really wonderful ones, and I want to see them all."

"It isn't that drab here," Sam had argued weakly, even though he wholeheartedly agreed that their town was the poster child for sad, salty, seasick ports. "Just work on the docks that sail to Canada and Greenland if you want to get on a ship so bad. You could be home for Christmas if you wanted."

There was a moment of silence when Sam leaned back against the wall sullenly, crossing his arms and glaring at Jake. Jake couldn't look him in the eye, instead choosing to slowly roll the map up and secure it with a little slip of ribbon as Sam huffed and bit back any tears that threatened to rise to the surface. The whole house was quiet in that moment, every room empty of noise and joy, Josh having long grown silent since Jake had broke the news over dinner and caused Josh to immediately retreat to his room with a slam of the door. The air had grown thick and cloudy since the words had left Jake's mouth, and as he watched his lanky little brother suddenly shrink very small on the bed he'd slept on since he was a child, Jake fully understood just what his absence was going to do to his family. 

"I need to do this, Sammy," Jake had pleaded with his brother, scooting closer to Sam on the bed and putting a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "I'll be back before you even care that I'm gone."

"I care now," Sam had whispered, shrugging away from Jake's touch and turning away.

It had been the truth. And it was still the truth two years later, after months of letters that came few and far between, and random parcels that came in the mail containing garments made of soft, dyed fabric that Josh snuck into every outfit and hair oils that had made Sam's awkward, choppy bob grow into glossy, walnut waves that he wove into plaits and loose buns to keep out of his face at work. These little gifts he sent from his travels were nice to have around, but they couldn't make up for Jake's substantial absence in their lives. As he got out of bed and dressed in the hazy peach light streaming through his thin curtains, Sam looked at the map hung crookedly on his wall and wondered where Jake's ship was docked now. 

"Jake wouldn't drag me to the bar on a fucking Sunday," Sam murmured to himself in his mirror as he pulled a comb through his hair and twisted it into a loose, wavy ponytail that swung nearly to his lower back. Just a moment too late, he heard his brother's footsteps out in the hall, and hoped in vain he didn't hear what he had said so close to his only partially closed door. 

"Yes, he would!" Josh called from right outside the door as he passed by, knocking on it with an enthusiasm that seemed completely unwarranted for the time of day. "Lighten up, Sammy, we only have a few chairs to fix. It'll be nice and easy for you, Mister Cranky."

"You always say that!" Sam called back, smacking the door and hearing Josh's donkey bray of a laugh move into their small kitchen, followed by the familiar clatter of the kettle and the other sounds that Josh put into motion to bring the house back to life for the coming day. 

Sam looked back at himself in the mirror, tugging on the lavender skin under his drooping lower lashes and pale waterline, taking only a second to dwell on any thoughts outside of getting through the day before he braced himself and headed out the door. 

As predicted, a few chairs to be fixed turned into a couple of barstools that needed tightening, a window pane that needed to be replaced, a floorboard that needed to be hammered back into place, glass shards that somehow went unnoticed from a minor brawl two nights prior needing to be swept up, and Sam being sent on an errand to find a vendor open on Sundays selling oranges. By the time Josh called it quits for the day, the sun was already starting to start its journey back down under the horizon line, much to Sam's dismay. He could barely keep his temper under wraps as Josh circled the bar one last time, letting his honey brown gaze rest a moment longer than necessary on every square inch of the place.

"This is insane, Josh, let's go," Sam hissed, trying not to claw into the doorframe as he attempted not to bolt. "There is absolutely no need for this level of astuteness unless you're expecting the goddamn Queen of England to pop by for a visit."

"You never know when a special guest might grace us," Josh said mysteriously, wiggling his eyebrows while he locked up the maintenance closet.

"Nobody even comes on Monday nights," Sam continued to whine. "You're prepping for three drunks and some mice." 

"Maybe I'm just trying to set an example for the level of care this place deserves," Josh explained in his even, oh-so-wise tone that Sam hated. "This place will be yours someday, you know."

"Yes, I know, and your ghost will still find a way to micro manage it."

"I'll be great for business," Josh grinned, finally turning down the lamp and clicking the key into place. "Sailors love a ghost story."

"It was a dark and stormy night when the young master Kiszka broke free of his cruel, domineering eldest brother and slayed him in his sleep," Sam crooned in a spooky voice as he took the lead down the street back to their little house. 

"You'd never get the chance," Josh scoffed.

Sam continued on with his dramatic tale of how his brother's ghost went on to curse his bar for all eternity and sent him spiraling into madness, with Josh contributing his own details where he saw fit as he trailed him. Right before it went out of sight, Sam cast a look back at the bar, sitting squat and dark against the lilac sky, wondering if what made him detest it so much might be the same thing that made Josh fuss over it so much.

-

The following night, Sam's expectation of a slow night was more than lived up to. By the time 9pm rolled around, Caravel had been graced by a whopping 2 patrons, who had only lingered for about an hour before leaving Josh and Sam to awkwardly sit around and flick coins at each other. 

Sam was able to read his brother's moods pretty well, and as he watched Josh stacking silver coins in a pyramid at the other end of the bar, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with him. He kept glancing at the door and his usually steady fingers had a slight tremble to them, which caused the coin pyramid to shift and slide to a clattering mess on the wood, making Josh cuss and scoop them back into his palm.

"Hey, brother of mine," Sam prodded gently as Josh occupied himself with spinning a quarter like a top. "How are you?"

Josh tossed him a weird look, laughing slightly as he straightened to admire his growing army of spinning coins. 

"I'm peachy, baby," Josh chuckled, knitting his brows. "And yourself?"

"Good, good," Sam said absently. "You know, if something's bothering you, I'm here to talk."

"Sammy, nothing's the matter," Josh insisted as if it was the silliest thing in the world, but he said it a little too fast. "Seriously. All is well in the house of Kiszka."

"I don't believe you," Sam said lazily, resting his face in his hands as he stared his brother down. 

"Well, I can't help that, now can I?" Josh teased, rolling one of his coins towards Sam. "Let's see how many of these we can spin at once."

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing he wasn't going to be able to get anything more out of Josh but still watching him out of the corner of his eye as they worked together to set the glimmering surface of the bar ablaze with a ballet of dancing silver coins. 

Around midnight, they had managed to accrue a small group of women in the back corner and a few more men at the bar, keeping them only slightly more busy than they had been in the empty bar. Sam, bored out of his mind, stepped away for a moment to "check inventory". This thorough "check" consisted of Sam slipping out the back door and taking a moment to breathe in the sweet, summery air. The chill coming off the ocean gave it a cold, salty bite, and Sam breathed it in gratefully through his nose as he slipped a cigarette and lighter out of his apron pocket. The cigarette, purchased secretly from the general store's quiet cashier, lit up quickly and was slowly inhaled, the herbs and tobacco mingling deliciously with the night air in Sam's senses. He tipped his head back and let loose a billowy stream of smoke into the dark sky, watching a moth sail through it on its way to the streetlight a few doors down. Josh would absolutely kill Sam if he knew he was smoking, so Sam had to sneak them in his rare moments completely alone. He was going to save it for a busy night when he'd really need it, but Sam couldn't help but give in to temptation. He closed his eyes and took in another long, slow drag, listening to the sizzle of the paper and the unmistakable, jovial noises of a group of sailors making their way down the street in front of the bar.

'Oh, boy, here we go,' Sam thought begrudgingly, hearing the muffled shouts and laughs enter the bar through the door to his back. Surprisingly, he heard Josh's voice ring out the loudest, making some kind of announcement and laughing. Josh was loud, of course, but he wasn't one to command a room when there were customers just coming in. Sam took a few more hits before dropping the cigarette and crushing it underfoot, putting his ear to the door curiously as he listened further. Josh's voice seemed to layer over itself alongside the unfamiliar voices that had just come in, and Sam furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out what he was hearing.

"SAM!"

"Fuck, shit," Sam whispered to himself, readjusting his apron and swinging around to open the door, stumbling back inside and powerwalking his way through the back and out into the open expanse of the bar. 

"There he is," Josh grinned brightly, his face completely alight. He was, for once, out from behind the bar and mixed amongst the sailors cluttering the front of the bar. Sam suddenly questioned if his assumption that they were sailors was even correct, judging from their casual, loose fitting clothes that varied in style. Usually the sailors that passed through their town were decked out in the traditional, matching garb with plain stripes and jaunty hats. But, still, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that these were sailors of some sort of caliber. He approached, turning on his cute waiter charm and flashing a warm smile, only for it to fall a moment later when he caught sight of who exactly Josh was standing with his arm around.

"Got a drink handy for an old seafarer?" 

"Jake?" Sam blurted in disbelief, adrenaline seizing his every sense as he tossed his tray haphazardly towards the bar and threw his arms around his brother, who clapped him on the back with a genuine and utterly Jake laugh. "Holy shit, I thought it was Josh I was hearing. What, I mean, oh my God, you're here, what the hell!"

"Good lord, Sam, since when do you swear like a sailor?" Jake exclaimed good-naturedly. "That's supposed to be my sort of thing."

"You should hear the shit he says, I tell you," Josh interjected. He was absolutely beaming, radiating joy from the tips of his curls down to his loafers in a way that should've projected the shimmer of sunlight's pure heat. Sam knew how much he had missed his twin, and now that they were back together again, it felt like something in Josh had slid back into its rightful place. Standing right next to each other, Sam was able to properly assess just how different Jake looked from the last time he had seen him. When he'd left, Jake's hair had curled up boyishly around his ears, but it now fell in sun kissed and wind tossed waves just above his shoulders. He was sturdier in build, with muscles built from lugging cargo on and off ships. He also sported some sparse facial hair and the biggest, ugliest hoop earring Sam had ever seen. Jake was lucky that Sam was too overwhelmed with emotion to make a comment about it, even when they hugged again and Sam felt it brush against his neck, causing him to choke down a giggle as Jake started one of his rambles. 

"You wouldn't believe the weather we had to get through to make it here," Jake said, throwing his palms up dramatically. "Rain like knives the whole way. I thought it was gonna cut through the sails but thanks to some expert direction from yours truly, we made it in record time."

"So, what, you're a captain now?" Sam asked, slightly in awe. 

"Sure am," Jake announced, pride dripping off him as he tipped his chin up and smoothed down his shirt. "A lot has happened since I've been out to sea."

"And you never thought to mention it in any of your letters?"

"Didn't seem fair to brag."

"Oh, get over yourself," Sam scoffed with a smile. "We've been pretty damn successful here without you. We're the talk of the town."

"Really? I didn't hear anything when I was showing the boys around town tonight, did we, boys?" Jake spoke to the crowd around them, and Sam startled slightly at their muddled replies and laughs as he remembered that it wasn't just him and his brothers alone in this space they had grown up in.  

"When we had dinner tonight, did any of you hear about the ol' Caravel?" Jake teased, slinging an arm around Sam and pulling him down to his height, mussing his hair. "Any talk of sweet Brandy?"

"Shut up!" Sam cried, trying to wiggle out of Jake's surprisingly strong grip, his face flushing as the men around them erupted into raucous laughter and whistles. He finally released him, Sam immediately straightening and brushing his hair out with his fingers with a huff as Josh covered a smile with his hand and Jake laughed. 

"You're the worst," Sam declared in true youngest sibling fashion. "You can make your own drinks tonight, how about that?"

"It would be my pleasure," Jake invited warmly, and from the genuine twinkle in his eye, Sam could tell he meant it. 

"Don't you fuck up my bar, Jacob," Josh said seriously, jabbing his finger at his twin as Jake happily made his way behind the counter. "We did all this cleaning and organizing for you, you know."

"Wait, wait, wait," Sam exclaimed, putting the pieces together as he glared down Josh, who immediately turned sheepish under Sam's sharp gaze. "You knew he was coming back? That's why you were being so weird? Why didn't you tell me?"

"We thought it would be a fun surprise," Josh explained meekly. "I still think it was."

"You're unbelievable," Sam sneered, secretly very touched by the gesture. "If I had known it was just Jake, I would've left some of that glass out on the floor."

"Cruel!" Jake cried from his spot behind the bar, where he was now dutifully pouring drinks for his crew, who were only now starting to settle. "It's not just me, it's my men, too. Wouldn't want them getting hurt, now would we?"

Sam didn't reply, simply smiling innocently and turning back to grab his tray to tend to the sailors who had taken seats at tables. He didn't remember exactly where it had ended up landing in his tackling of Jake. He looked around the shoulders of the burly men who had conveniently gathered around the spot on the bar he figured he must have set it down, but didn't see it anywhere. 

Behind him, the jukebox started up, a high instrumental starting to swing out over the crowd inside the Caravel. Sam turned towards the sound instinctually, and blinked in shock when he saw his tray resting atop the jukebox, sitting casually beside the tall man facing the jukebox. Sam approached the tray thief, sidling around his strong frame and preparing himself to have to argue with whoever this kleptomaniac was. Instead, Sam found himself freezing up when he caught sight of the man's profile. 

His eyes, cast down and shadowed by dark, stern brows and long lashes, tracked the song listings as his long, calloused fingers ghosted the dials. His hair was as long as Jake's and fell in smoky ringlets that swayed against his broad shoulders. His nose was handsomely aquiline, and Sam realized that he was close enough to see a peppering of freckles across it. He swallowed thickly and prayed that he hadn't been standing there too long, suddenly unaware of how much time had passed since he had first started looking at the stranger. Sam decided to break himself out of his brief funk by reaching up and snatching the tray off of the jukebox, the flimsy metal making a racket that made the jukebox man jump slightly and turn to Sam with wide eyes. 

"That's my tray," Sam announced, staring him down. There was a short pause, a smile creeping onto the man's face as his gaze softened.

"You're Brandy," he finally said, his small smile stretching into a full, charming smile that was crooked in the way Sam had only ever read about. Sam flushed, his ears going hot as he gripped the tray tightly and curled his lip.

"It's Sam, actually," Sam snapped, wondering why his flustered state was translating as frustration.

"Oh, well, my apologies," the man said sincerely, dipping his head slightly in apology. "That's what the captain called you. I'm Daniel."

"Your captain is my brother, so I wouldn't take anything he says about me at face value," Sam explained, pushing away the thought of what the hell Jake told his crew he was like, if he talked about him and Josh at all. He must have. He was too much of a sap not to. 

Daniel laughed, and Sam flinched at the sound. He didn't know why, it was a nice laugh.

"Don't worry, he speaks very highly of you," Daniel affirmed, and Sam was annoyed to find himself physically relaxing. Did he really care what a bunch of sailors thought of him? "You don't look how I pictured, though." 

"Oh?" Sam barked out an awkward laugh. "What did you think I'd look like?"

Daniel shrugged, his hair shifting enough to reveal hoops in his ears similar to Jake's. He did a dramatic look up and down of Sam, which made him go hot in the face again as Daniel's eyes finally rested on his own. 

"He always described you as, I don't know, like a squirrely little brother," Daniel remarked, gesturing vaguely at Sam. "Messy hair, snotty nose. Which is definitely not you."

"You're strange," Sam replied, meaning it. 

"You're pretty."

Sam froze as he had when he had first approached Daniel, every muscle tensing up as his mouth snapped shut. Daniel stood there smiling at him like he hadn't said a word. 

"I'm working," Sam countered nervously, turning away and then turning back. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Daniel echoed, looking back down at the jukebox. "Brandy."

Sam tossed a silent glare at him before hurrying away, quickly distracting himself with fetching rounds for the nearby tables occupied by Daniel's crewmates. 

'What the fuck was that?' Sam kept thinking to himself as he bustled around for the next hour, far too aware that Daniel was still somewhere in this space with him. It wasn't that he had made Sam uncomfortable...it was something else entirely. He couldn't put words to it, and it frustrated him. 

"You're a pistol tonight, Sammy," Jake commented as Sam came sailing back to the bar for the 3rd time in the past 10 minutes, clearing his tray and stocking it with a fresh round of clean glasses. "I knew me being here would renew your zest for work."

"You're a hoot, Jakers," Sam said dryly, both of them exchanging mocking faces as Jake poured up Sam's new round. "Your friends are something else."

"They're a lively bunch, aren't they?" Jake responded proudly, casting a look out over the bar at his men. "Make any friends yet? I talk about you and Joshy every chance I get, you should know. These boys all think you two are the bees knees. Brother of the Year goes to me, thank you."

"Daniel told me about that," Sam replied coolly. "The talking about us, not you being Brother of the Year. Not sure you've earned that one, Mr. Runaway."

"Ah, Daniel," Jake smirked, shaking his head with a mysterious smile. "I love that guy. Damn good when it comes to heavy lifting and rigging. Did you get a look at those tree trunk arms of his?"

"I can't say I did," Sam muttered, lying.

"He's a strong fellow. His talents are much appreciated. He also happens to be a complete sweetheart. If you're gonna actually try and befriend any of these fuckers, he's probably your best bet."

"Noted," Sam replied quickly as Jake poured the last drink. "I'll be back in a second."

"Take your time!" Jake encouraged, pushing Sam back out into the fray. "Go say hi to Daniel for me!"

-

Sam didn't honor Jake's request until after 3am, when Josh had finally taken back control of the bar and insisted Jake and his crewmates get moving so they could clean up. 

"Tell me they're not staying in our house," Josh muttered to Jake as the three of them huddled behind the bar, pretending to be busy as the sailors all gathered up their coats and drunkenly stumbled their way to the entrance. "You promised. We only have the three rooms and our living room is certainly not up to code for sailor folk."

"I've booked them week-long stays at the inn, don't even worry about it," Jake insisted in a whisper. "I sure hope I'm allowed the privilege to sleep in my own bed."

"Of course, idiot," Josh smiled, smacking Jake's arm. "Your bed is still how you left it."

"You're only here for a week?" Sam questioned, his stomach sinking as reality shook the seeming eternity of this odd night. 

"I'm afraid so, pipsqueak," Jake affirmed, his tone weak but his voice far too laced with whiskey to effectively communicate any kind of genuine sadness. 

Sam stared into the glass he was halfheartedly wiping and held back everything he wanted to say. He wished he could say anything about how it wasn't fair to the family for Jake to leave for so long, or how the almost complete lack of communication was even less fair, or how much easier it would be for him to just stay. But Jake was drunk, and it was late, and it just wasn't worth it, so Sam just mumbled an "okay" and stacked the glass. 

"You know," Sam started to say, faltering slightly when both of them looked at him expectantly. "Josh, why don't you just go back with Jake and I'll finish up here. I don't think he can make it back by himself, and I doubt he's kept hold of his house key since leaving."

"Aw, Sammy, you don't have to," Josh pushed back, putting an appreciative hand on Sam's slight shoulder. "I think he can make his way."

"I'm standing right here," Jake interjected, swaying only slightly as he leaned forward. "I can give input. My input is I'm completely fine to walk the 5 minutes home."

"And you have your key?"

Jake paused, his glassy eyes darting around in space as he thought, gently moving to pat his pockets.

"He does not," Josh said to Sam alone, his tired features raising in devilish amusement.

"No, he does not," Sam agreed as they watched Jake turn away slightly to dig in his pockets some more. 

"Still here," Jake piped up again, finally giving up on his key search. "But, yes, it would seem I've misplaced them. But I can wait outside. It's not even that cold and I got some fire in my belly to keep me warm."

"People are going to think you're a vagrant, Jake, no," Sam argued, waving his brothers away. "Josh, take him home. Both of you, get some sleep for once. I'll lock up and see you in the morning."

"Are you sure, Sammy?" Josh asked again, looking at him with a little too much concern. "I'm not saying I don't think you can, I'm just-"

"Get out!" Sam insisted, grabbing both of them by the shoulder and spinning them to face away from him. "And stay out! Follow the crowd, little fish, swim away. I'll be fine, I can handle putting up chairs and mopping."

"Fine, fine, sheesh," Josh giggled, wrestling Sam away from him and slinging a rough arm around Jake, hauling him towards the last few men trailing out the door. "You take care of my baby! And get home quick!"

"Bite me!" Sam replied cheerfully, waving them away with his rag like he was waving off a ship.

"Good to see you again, Sam! I love you!" Jake called loudly, despite being only a few feet away.

"I love you too, you drunk!" 

"Aw!" Jake blew him a kiss, causing Josh to cackle and start up an unheard conversation as they opened the door in identical hand slaps and slipped out into the cool, dark night. 

Sam turned his back to the door, slinging the rag in his hand over the spigot of the sink and sliding the tub of dirty dishes into the basin, letting the water run from cool to warm to soak them. He looked into the full length mirror that Josh had tipped sideways in front of the sink and just under the first shelf of bottles, grimacing slightly at the dark circles continuing to grow under his eyes and the state of the flyaways that had fallen from the ponytail he'd thrown up around 1am. Sam leaned in closer, pulling the ribbon from his hair and letting it fall in a shiny curtain, smoothing it back with his damp fingers. Something fluttered in the mirror, causing Sam to squint and look into the slightly warped and smudged glass, catching sight of something dark behind him. He straightened with a jolt and spun on his heel, brandishing the silk ribbon as if it could do anything to protect him against an intruder. 

Instead, he found Daniel wandering around by the door, watching him with that same gentle smile he'd given him before. Sam's heart had raced when he'd seen something behind him, but now it was just about ready to slam a gory hole through his chest and escape. 

"Oh, my God," Sam wheezed, clutching his chest to hold his heart in. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I didn't mean to," Daniel said with a chuckle, his long legs delivering him to the bar. "I was worried we got off on the wrong foot and wanted to rectify that."

"And you figured waiting in the corner like a silent specter until I was alone was the perfect solution to starting up a jolly ol' friendship?" Sam teased, annoyance lacing his voice with no real venom behind it. "I stand behind when I said you were strange."

"And I stand behind what I said after you said that," Daniel doubled down, leaning onto the bar and meeting Sam's eye, which Sam tried to hold with a nervous swallow.

"Oh, is that why you stayed?" Sam laughed weakly, turning away from Daniel to start on properly washing the dishes. "I don't know what kind of guy you think I am, but I'm not like that."

"No, no, that's not..." Daniel sighed, and Sam watched him lean his head against his hand in the mirror for a brief moment before looking up again, watching the back of Sam's head. "I'm fucking blowing this, huh?"

"Pretty much," Sam agreed with a smile, his cheeks warming. "You really haven't talked to anybody outside of your crewmates for a while, hm?"

"No," Daniel mumbled dejectedly, and Sam bit his lip to prevent a giggle from escaping.

"I can tell."

There was a minute of quiet between them, the only sound being the motion of the water in the sink and the dishes clinking together as Sam rinsed them and wiped them down haphazardly. 

"Do you want help? I can dry."

Sam looked over his shoulder in surprise at the offer. Daniel looked sincere, so Sam nodded slightly and motioned for him to join him behind the bar. Now that they were standing right next to each other, Daniel's towering height and body heat were dizzying in Sam's peripheral as he struggled to keep his hands steady in the soapy water. Daniel dutifully took the ratty drying towel and gently dried off the glasses and plates as Sam handed them to him, both of them working in tense silence. Sam's mind spun as they fell into rhythm, wondering once again just what the hell was going on tonight. 

They were done in a quick 10 minutes, with Daniel drying the last dish with a flourish and training his blinding smile on Sam, who returned it with much less fervor. 

"What next?" Daniel asked brightly. Sam just looked at him for a second, squinting his eyes in confusion as he stared up at the kindly giant who was apparently more than ready for chores.

"Dude, we're closed," Sam explained. "And you don't work here. You're lucky I let you stay this long. You don't have to be here."

"I know, but I want to be," Daniel explained right back. "And you're lucky to have some company. So, what's next?"

"Uh," Sam stuttered, utterly flummoxed by Daniel. "Well, I was going to put the chairs up so I can mop."

"Okay, why don't you get the mopping stuff and I'll put the chairs up?"

"Well-"

It was too late for any kind of response because Daniel had already started shimmying out from behind the bar and making his way over to the sea of tables that had been knocked around and moved all night, straightening them up and effortlessly lifting chairs with a single hand and sitting them gently on the wood. Sam hesitated for only a minute, watching Daniel work to a tune he had started humming, absently wringing his cold hands before wiping them on his apron and shuffling off to the maintenance closet to pull out the mop and bucket. By the time he had wrangled them out, Daniel had managed to get every chair off the ground, allowing Sam to flop the old mop onto the hardwood and start pushing clean water across it. 

"Careful or I'm going to mop you into a corner," Sam threatened, starting towards Daniel with the mop. Daniel yelped in mock fear, backing away dramatically with his hands up. Sam let his front fall for a moment at seeing Daniel play along so easily, smiling as he lifted the mop off the ground and held it out towards Daniel, swinging a spray of floor water towards the sailor. Daniel yelped for real then, laughing as he tip toed his way back towards the bar, perching on one of the bolted down stools as Sam snickered to himself, continuing his mopping route.

"You're a beast with that thing," Daniel encouraged, kicking his leg up onto the stool and resting his cheek against his knee. "How long have you been a mopping prodigy?"

"Well, I've been the designated mopper since I was 12, so about 10 years now," Sam said, and Daniel let out a low whistle. 

"I'm surprised they started you on it that late. Did you do any work here before that?"

"Some," Sam offered, redipping the mop. "More cleaning stuff. I couldn't serve until after we inherited it, so I had sort of a late start on that front." 

"Jake told us about that." Daniel paused. "I'm sorry about your parents."

"It's alright," Sam answered immediately, the response mechanical after so many years of sentiments. He couldn't even begin to delve back into the emotions their accident brought. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Another lull, save for the sound of water.

"My folks bit it, too."

Sam's grip on the mop shifted and he had to fight it from falling over, looking over to Daniel at the bar, whose face was still chipper despite his statement.

"Same thing too, actually," Daniel continued, his hand tracing the motion of waves. "Spot of bad weather on a trip and down they went. The sea is a merciless mistress."

"I-I'm sorry to hear that," Sam stammered, shocked at how blasé Daniel was about such a trauma, especially considering how much he could relate.

"As you said, it's alright, and thank you," Daniel grinned, nuzzling his cheek into his knee further. "I forgave her."

"Her?"

"The sea," Daniel explained, his eyes twinkling slightly. "She can't help but do what she does. Sometimes it means getting a little rough and taking a few of our own. She can't stop it, and neither can I. All I can do is try and bend to her ever changing will."

"Sounds like you two have a complicated relationship," Sam joked as he mopped himself back towards the maintenance closet. Daniel laughed and he nearly bowed under the weight of it, instead gripping the sweat slick handle of the mop a little tighter.

"Maybe we do," Daniel laughed, watching Sam with a fierce grin. "But I love it. She's my life, my lover, my lady."

"Is that so?" Sam leaned the mop back inside the closet, taking advantage of the door shielding him from seeing Daniel for a second. "Then what are you doing here with a landlubber like me?"

There was no reply, forcing Sam to close the door and make eye contact with Daniel again, who was still staring at him with that frustratingly ever present smile ghosting his rosy lips. 

"Because I'm going to need someone to hang out with while I'm here," Daniel said simply. "And Jake told me you're my best bet."

Sam couldn't help but let an inappropriately timed laugh escape then, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and crossing his arms.

"Jake, you bitch," he spoke to the sky. "He said the same damn thing to me tonight."

"Ha! He's never struck me as the matchmaker type," Danny chuckled. "What a sly dog." 

"I wouldn't call it matchmaking," Sam protested, bending to lift the mop bucket and struggling to get it off the ground, flushing in embarrassment. In a flash, Daniel was on his feet and in front of Sam, taking the bucket from him and carrying it like it was a glass of water.

"I would," Daniel argued back. "Where do you need this?"

"Uh, the sink," Sam replied meekly, waving towards the sink. "If you get it there, I can dump it."

"Don't bother, I got it," Daniel insisted, strolling over to the sink and tipping the gray, foamy water down the drain. "Come on, you're not going to let me take you out?"

"I already told you, I'm not that kind of guy," Sam doubled down, tucking hair behind his ear as he watched Daniel shake the last of the water out. "Gimme that."

"I suppose you'll want this back too?"

Daniel held the bucket aloft and in his same curled hand, Sam's silk hair ribbon hung down, the longest bit of lilac thread nearly grazing the inside of the bucket. Sam let an involuntary quiet gasp fly, feeling his cheeks flush once again as he stomped towards Daniel, reaching out for the bucket and ribbon. Daniel held it even higher then, giggling down at Sam as he stood on his tiptoes and struggled for his things.

"You're a fucking kleptomaniac, you know that, right?" Sam hissed in frustration. "It's a disease, and buddy, you have it tenfold."

"One date, that's all I ask," Daniel cooed. "Jake said you'd be tough, so I came prepared to wear you down."

"Jake said what?!"

"He saaaaid,'' Daniel began, lifting the bucket and ribbon even higher when Sam made a springing jump for them, grabbing desperately. "That his little brother was a sweetheart pretending to be a real tough cookie and in desperate need of a date."

"Lies and slander," Sam seethed. "Jake was lying through his teeth to prank you. You've been pranked. Now bite the bullet and give me my things back, please!"

"Mm, no, see, he said you'd say something like that," Daniel hummed, backing up against the bar as Sam stalked closer. "He said there were few things you'd be unable to resist and that I had the most of those qualifications out of our crew. Therefore, I was deemed the lucky fellow tasked with treating you right."

"Oh, really? And what are these alleged traits I find so irresistible?" 

"He said you were a sucker for dark hair," Daniel smiled, cocking his head so his glossy curls swung around his flushed face. "Especially curly hair. He said you like freckles, and green eyes, but most of all you like someone who can handle your attitude."

Sam stood there silently, his heart pounding in his ears as he attempted to glare a hole through the center of Daniel's head.

"You don't have green eyes," Sam pointed out, his voice still dark with frustration. "And I can barely see your freckles." 

"But you admit I'm doing a good job of handling your attitude."

"Stop putting fucking words in my mouth!"

"Stop fighting me and admit you're enjoying yourself!" Daniel crowed, the bucket swinging happily over his head. "You already like having me around. I'm charming, and I'm useful, and I'll pay for your dinner." 

They stared each other down, inches apart, Sam's already burnt out brain churning desperately to make sense of the situation and figure out how to proceed with such a relentless prick holding him up like this. Finally, he dropped back down to the balls of his feet and let his arms rest at his side, letting out a furious huff through his nose and walking away from Daniel.

"Keep them, I could give a fuck," Sam declared. "I'm going the fuck home. Get the fuck out."

Daniel laughed again, and Sam could've strangled him for it. He heard the clank of the bucket hitting the floor and then the soft tread of Daniel's footsteps approaching. He drew in a sharp breath when Daniel's arm came around his side and extended the ribbon to him, his palm up as if in surrender. 

"At least let me walk you home," Daniel maintained, his voice low and velvet soft. "I don't want any criminals snatching you up on your way."

Sam's hand came up and gently took the ribbon from Daniel, the tips of his finger grazing the warm roughness of his hand and then retreating just as quickly, tucking the ribbon into his pocket. He sighed deeply and looked over his shoulder, trying not to startle physically when he realized how close Daniel was, the front of his dark linen top nearly grazing the curve of Sam's back. 

"Get your coat," Sam muttered, stepping out of the near embrace and making his way to the back door. "And stay away from the register."

Daniel laughed as he went back for his corduroy jacket, sneaking a look at the back of Sam's head and graceful figure.

"You really think I'm a lowdown dirty thief, don't you?" Daniel accused, catching up to Sam and opening the door before he got the chance, a gesture which Sam begrudgingly accepted as he stepped out for the second time that night. 

"Yes, I do," Sam agreed, all but yanking Daniel out the door and locking the door with a firm click that soothed his soul a little, certain the craziness of the night was locked away with it.

"You have no idea," Daniel murmured mysteriously, dipping down to hum it in Sam's ear. The feeling of his hot breath ghosting the cold shell of his ear sent chills down Sam's neck that made him involuntarily speed up his pace as they walked down the dim, quiet alleyway. 

This walk usually took about 10 minutes when he walked with Josh, slowing his speed ever so slightly to account for the gangly legs that Josh simply did not possess. However, with Daniel beside him, Sam arrived at his door in record time, not needing to check the time to know it had been about half his usual time. Daniel had tried a few times to strike up a conversation, but Sam had chosen to satiate him only with simple replies and looks, far too worn out to put up with his relentless cheer any longer. 

"Well, this is me," Sam said with finality, pulling his keys out again and giving Daniel a polite smile. "Thank you for walking me home, it was nice to meet you."

"Of course," Daniel replied, his eyes tracing over Sam's face as Sam quietly slid the key into the lock and opened the door a crack. Before Sam could get inside and finally wind down for the night, Daniel reached out and grasped his arm with gentle force, turning Sam ever so slightly towards him.

"Listen, before I go," Daniel began, his perky expression fading ever so slightly into a calmer look Sam couldn't quite read, his features softened by the hazy moonlight. "I know I've been a lot, and I know you probably don't care for me very much, but I really would like to take you to dinner tomorrow."

Sam let out a long, heavy sigh, looking longingly towards the door. Once inside, he would be able to fall into his nice, warm, comfy bed and just sleep. He could even sleep in if he wanted to, and then in the morning, he would get to hang out with his brother, whom he hadn't seen in 2 full years. But here he was, being tugged on by an aggressively cheerful sailor, who was also aggressively into him. Standing on worn, tired legs, in the cold, in the dead of night. There was only one thing standing between him and that sleep he was fantasizing about.

"Sure," Sam finally agreed, shifting awkwardly to accommodate the grin that burst onto Daniel's face at the affirmation. "If it'll get you off my doorstep."

"Wonderful," Daniel said, his smile bleeding into his voice. "Meet me at the pub by the inn at 5 tomorrow. I'll have you back before your shift starts."

"How do you know when-"

"Have a good night," Daniel cut him off, patting Sam's shoulder before spinning on his heel and setting off towards the inn, whistling the jukebox tune he'd played earlier in the night as Sam watched his dark form bounce away. 

Sam waited until he was out of sight to release the tension he'd been holding in his chest in the form of a fast, hot huff of breath, bracing himself against the doorway as he took in another drink of cool air and tried to stave off the perplexing dizzying feeling that overcame him. He entered his house as quietly as he could and shut the door firmly behind him, his fingertips shaking from the adrenaline that had overcome him and seized every bodily motion with uncomfortable velocity. Clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to get it out of his system, Sam silently padded by Josh's room, listening only for a second before he heard the soft and unmistakable rattle of the snoring his brother claimed not to do. Next, he stopped in front of Jake's door, finding it ajar and peeking in to see him curled up on top of the blanket and sheets, one of his comically large wide brimmed hats sat crookedly on his head and tipped over his face. Sam went to shut the door but stopped halfway, recalling a memory of Jake tossing a shoe at his head when they were much younger, bitching to keep the door open because he "needed the air". Sam left it open, and retreated to his room.

Sam immediately collapsed on the edge of his bed, slipping his shoes off and ridding himself of his shirt and pants in a flurry of motion, rolling over with a grunt and taking the blanket with him.  He faced the wall for a few minutes, trying to steady his breathing so he could dip into the sleep he so desperately craved, but his eyes didn't close and his mind didn't slow to allow unconsciousness. He turned so he was laying on his back, pulling the covers over his bare chest and staring up at the blank ceiling, trying to clear his mind. 

It was around 5am when Sam finally got his shut eye, sinking back into his thin pillow with his lips parted, the darkness outside starting to lift with the first flickers of morning light. It had only taken an hour of tossing, turning, and indulging in the relentless parade of images flickering against his eyelids, counting the freckles on the strange sailor's nose until he drifted away.

~~~

#this is my baby fr #shes been screaming at me to get out of my damn google docs #gvf #greta van fleet #danny wagner #sam kiszka #myart #karoufiction #greta van fleet fanfiction

[venusstorm]

The way I’m about to write a Tangerine fic because I can’t stop watching edits of this man

#I can’t stop rewatching this movie #this is my baby fr #bullet train #tangerine #aaron taylor johnson

[artchixs]

if I loved you. you would know it.

#my art #starkid #starkid nerdy prudes must die #starkid npmd #starkid nightmare time #nerdy prudes must die #npmd #nightmare time #stephanie lauter #peter spankoffski #duke keane #miss holloway #holloduke #holloweane #much better ship name imo #musicals #lautski #still getting the hang of duke lol #he’s my baby girl fr tho #hatchetfield

[colberine]

crying some real queer tears over how anxious and scared izzy was to have makeup on and sing in front of everyone but they didn’t blink an eye and just started dancing and singing with him

#my baby’s getting love and respect that he deserves #but fr he was so anxious #he’s just like me #also izzy and wee john???? wtffff the huuug #ALSO why didn’t we see how izzy asked to have his makeup be done? we were robbed #izzy hands #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers

[aterfish]

Oh no! LBM got wet...

#i got two responses to the washing machine animation: 'weee he spinin' or 'oh no he spinin' #i let him get wet so im letting you how he gets dry #he lives in my head fr #little baby man #lbm dp #dp #danny phantom #ater art #ater babbling at 2 am #hes like a cat and i keep spinning him in my head #hes so fun to draw

[eggdrawsthings]

Children of the Watch's shenanigans bro found their secret stash of snacks :3

#found this old sketch in my drive so i had to color it #imagine a spin off animated series about their clans and stuff ; v; #i would kill someone to watch it fr #my art #grogu #the mandalorian #clan mudhorn #children of the watch #baby yoda #star wars

[super-un-stable]

Lost is translation

#tmnt #tmnt 1987 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt crossover #turtles forever #it’s a reference get it #also kinda a jab to 87 infanizatiom like is you see them as younger bros that’s kool and dandy but like they aren’t babies be fr #tmnt fanart #teenage mutant ninja turtles #my art

[spookeart]

I’ve been told people wanted a fanart of the cave scene, so here it is🤲

This is from ‘Only the brave’ by @solmussa on AO3!! The way I went FERAL reading this omg

‼️ bloody version under the cut👇

#Sirius fighting off the inferis on his own????? #with a fcking mystical sword???!?? #like ARE YOU FR #HE REALLY SAID HANDS OFF MY BABY BRO #HE’S SO FCKING COOL #i want to be like him when I grow up #Sirius black #Sirius black fanart #regulus black #regulus black fanart #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanart #black brothers #artist on tumblr #digital art #my art

[kyouka-supremacy]

ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA | Bungo Stray Dogs Anime Novel

#Sickness aside this ended up taking days... Note to self: next time just resize the canvas fr girl #Previous one was actually just a small break while I was making this ahjvfcajsav #There's so many projects I want to finish before the year ends and so little time... #atsushi nakajima #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd edit #my edit #mine #Edit because I didn't even talk about Atsushi: I LOVE HIM ALRIGHT. As soon as I saw the book I knew I had to make something out of these– #because he's just TOO CUTE in Oda's art style. Baby. belovedest. Light of my life. #In the answering phone one he's super cute eheh. AND the one where he's dying he's SO pretty in there #I love he <3

[hualianschild]

#the hualian shared trope fr #they're so skdjdhdh #THEY'RE SO PRECIOUS TO ME #MY BABIES #but like STOP BEING SO OBLIVIOUS AND HESITANT #it's the slow burn™ that keeps me going mhmm #hualian invented love #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #xie lian #hua cheng #san lang #tian guan ci fu #mxtx #hualian #tgcf meme #heaven officials blessing #hob

[raz-mo]

I love drawing him <3

#he’s baby girl #comfort character fr #my art #fanart #nimona #ballister boldheart #ballister blackheart #nimona ballister #nimona fanart #nimart

[milky-shea]

A very happy 2 year anniversary to the fam, and hopes for more to come :)

#fanart #fnaf #sun and moon show #fnaf fanart #tsams #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #sams earth #sams solar #sams lunar #ma babies #making this my phone wallpaper fr

[throwmethroughawindow]

ace is a messy whiny pussy eater, you cannot tell me otherwise

begging and whimpering for more, devouring you over and over until you’re crying bc you’re so overstimulated and he begs for “just one more baby, you taste so good”

kissing and licking your thigh as you ride out your last orgasm, your pussy squeezing his fingers as he praises you and thanks you; promising to do this for you every day of his life if you’d let him

UGH UGH UGH

Blame @terarria-sunflower FOR THESE HORNY ASS TJOUGHTS!!!!‼️‼️‼️

#one piece #portgas d ace #ace ace ace ace ace #he’s so fucking sexy #I want him whimpering between my legs #so fucking messy and cute #FUCK #I want him so badly #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace smut #portgas d ace pussy eater fr #you can eat my pussy whenever baby #one piece smut #one piece x reader

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

alcina dimitrescu KILLS her maids and drinks their blood

karl heisenberg tried to use a BABY as a weapon

ethan winters is WHITE

mother miranda tries to STEAL someones daughter

at the end of the day, your favorite resident evil 8 characters are terrible people

#resident evil village #ethan winters #resident evil #u cannot tell me that ethan actually did something bad #please be fr 😭 #ethan winters is a horrible person for killing a family a five! #man come on #open ur eyes… play the game maybe… #i get just not liking ethan #but why come up with a bunch of unreasonable excuses for why he sucks 😭 #liek just say u hate him #u dont gotta start babying the lords or demonizing him #hes just a normal guy come on bro #most arguments i see r full of buzzwords tbh #i havent seen anything that has made me think #huh… maybe that is a bit messed up of him… #he is a victim of other peoples consequences #he is forced into situations where he has to fight to survive #idc if people hate ethan… but the second u start pulling stuff outta ur butt… #im sorry i gotta defend my gf #its annoying whenever people complain abt ethan fans goi ng like #‘haha i like him hes a normal guy’ #cos waht r u arguing against #he IS a normal guy #he is literally a civillian…? #come on #conpare him to chris or leon who literally work for the government or whatever #its weird to get defenisive over ethan… not being normal…? #just leave him alone😭 bro has 100 hate articles abt him already #again another essay in the tags

[bakudekublogblog]

the way katsuki just IS izuku's first love drives me nutty. like he just had a big ole crush on him with his huge-ass heart eyes and he chased him around with maximum puppy-love smitten energy

#bkdk #bakudeku #izuku chasing after katsuki with the biggest wettest heartiest heart eyes ever and katsuki is like FUCKER IS LOOKING DOWN ON ME HOW DARE YO #like no bby so close he's down BAD for you i can see where there could be some confusion #it just drives me nutty!!! that's his pookie bear bitty baby boy #it just makes every other ship feel so irrelevant bc katsuki is izuku's first love and fiercest #like fr do we think izuku is getting over katsuki especially now #especially after all bakugou has done for him #how many times has bakugou saved him and in so many ways #my headcanon is that izuku's baby puppy love crush faded but never really died #it was always there #and then they're thrust into each other's lives and katsuki starts growing and training with him and izuku is like fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK #and he just keeps falling for him over and over again #izuku sees him standing on the UA island and is like yeah ok i'm never getting over him he's it for me #he's always been it he's always been the one