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mopeytropey · 4 years

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a beer buds series: chapter 5

newest update available below the cut and on AO3 here :) those of you anticipating more of gay disaster!Lexa should be pleased ...

Timeline: takes place between chapters 4 and 5 of 'apu' after Clarke attempts to host a dinner party only to have Lexa arrive as her only guest

Beer: Sunday Paper IMPERIAL STOUT WITH COFFEE

The smoothness of this beer belies it’s 9.9% ABV. Fresh roasted coffee nose leads into a smooth and rich roasted dark chocolate and coffee flavor with hints of dried black cherries.

ABV 9.9%

Sunday Paper Imperial Stout: Exhibit A (Framingham, MA)

Lexa has settled into the worn comfort of Lincoln’s sofa for all of six minutes before a large, curious ball of grey fur is sitting beside her. The cat blinks up at her with its owlish eyes the color of rust, and Lexa smiles while rubbing behind its ears.

“I still can’t believe you’ve named your cat after my father.”

“Come on! Tell me she doesn’t look exactly like Gus!” Lincoln shouts from the nearby kitchen.

The cat begins to purr at Lexa’s doting touch, and she thinks it enhances the resemblance even further. A docile temperament hidden beneath the imposing stature of her father. Uniform grey coloring gives way to a wide swath of darker fur beneath the cat’s chin, cascading down its chest like an unkempt beard. Lexa smiles again. Gus the cat has a bulky frame but is gentle and affectionate. She thinks the comparison is entirely apt.

“She’s bigger than when I was here last,” Lexa observes as Lincoln enters the room carrying two glasses of dark beer with heavy foam.

“She eats like a horse,” he laughs, setting a drink in front of Lexa before collapsing onto the other end of his couch. “Plus, I’m fairly certain Octavia is spoiling her with extra treats. Cheers, buddy.”

Gus abandons her immediately for the comfort of Lincoln’s lap while Lexa retrieves her glass.

She reaches down the short expanse of sofa cushions to clink her glass against Lincoln’s. “How drunk am I going to be after this one?”

“Imperial stout. 9.9%,” Lincoln smiles. “But, I’ve got lasagna and garlic bread in the oven to compensate.”

“So I’ll be hungover and doubling my running route tomorrow. Thanks a lot.”

“What are friends for?” Lincoln beams. “Hey! We should do 1A down to the island and back—weather is supposed to be super mild tomorrow and I’m done with my meetings by 4:00.”

The route past Clarke’s house.

The new information of Clarke’s residence is like a hot coal buried deep in Lexa’s stomach. The architecture. The pungent smell of the marshes. Seeing Clarke backdropped by her own surroundings had completed so much of the picture Lexa has been composing for months. Everything about the house, and Clarke in it, made sense—from the colors of her open kitchen to the art hung on the walls to the spiral staircase that Clarke practically forbade Lexa to ascend.

She swallows, wondering if the blush she feels on her cheeks will show in the low light of Lincoln’s living room. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“So, how was it on Tuesday? Sorry we bailed.”

Not for the first time, Lexa wonders if Lincoln has somehow infiltrated her inner thoughts based on the timeliness of his ask. The inquiry does nothing to lessen her blush, but Lexa hides further embarrassment behind a large sip of stout.

“You mean showing up for a dinner party to find you’re the only guest in attendance? Not awkward at all, that’s for sure.”

Gus seems to vacillate between the two of them for a moment, finally curling against Lexa’s leg and pushing her paws into Lexa’s thigh when she sinks her hand into thick, soft fur. The sound of Gus’s purring is amplified by Lincoln’s quiet apartment, and Lexa begins to relax with its perpetual hum.

“Yeah, but it’s Clarke,” Lincoln laughs. “I’m sure you guys had fun without us anyway.”

Lexa can’t decide if he’s really so oblivious or playing dumb for her sake, but she looks at him like he’s sprouted a second, immaculately shaved head anyway. She is tempted to recount every movement, and look, and smile, and gesture that she was forced to endure in Clarke’s company that made her feel, in fact, incredibly awkward. And, unsure. Anxious. Elated. Questioning every decision she’d ever made in her life to that point.

But, sure: fun is more succinct.

“We had a nice time.” Lexa smiles into her beer, remembering. “I think I talked a lot.”

“I’m sorry—what?” Lincoln further mocks her by cupping a hand around his ear as if to hear her more clearly.

“You’re such an ass. Why do I even hang out with you?”

“I’ve been grandfathered in,” Lincoln shrugs.

“When we were out on the boat, Clarke shared some things with me—personal things—and it felt like it was time to reciprocate.”

“Her dad?” Lincoln asks in a far more cautious tone. Lexa nods, taking another sip of the dense, dark beer. “The way the girls talk about him, he sounds incredible. A great guy to have lost so soon. O says the Griffins practically raised her. She really loved Jake.”

“I think Clarke’s connection with him was quite strong.”

Lincoln slowly nods through a heavy sigh. “So, how much of the backlog did you offer up in return? How far back into the Brooklyn archives did chatty Lexa venture?”

He’s broken the mood, and Lexa gives him a grateful smile. “Quite a bit, actually. I was also sort of high at the time.” Lincoln almost chokes on a sip of beer as Lexa shrugs. “But, I’m glad I told her. It felt good to talk about it.”

“Yeah.” Lincoln’s dark eyes have taken on a distant quality, and Lexa suspects he may be thinking of Octavia. Perhaps he’s thinking of all the parts of his dark history that he’s been able to share with someone as strong and resilient and unwavering as her. For someone as reticent as Lincoln, it must feel like infinite relief to give that part of himself to someone else. “We beat some shit odds, didn’t we?” he finally says.

Lexa exhales a humorless laugh. “Understatement.”

It had been a childhood of survival for them both. Anya too. But then they found each other, and it started to feel less harrowing, less isolating and alone. Even when they lost track of one another—transported from one family to another, in different boroughs, different schools—Anya taught them to rely on a network of trusted contacts. Information from other kids in the system became the string that kept them tied together.

And then, during that frightening summer when Lexa was thirteen and Anya disappeared, lost to another state—shipped halfway across the country—Lexa wouldn’t let them rest until she and Lincoln found her. It would be another eight months before Anya landed back on New York City asphalt and Lexa could breathe steadily again.

A timer sounding off in the kitchen breaks the atmosphere again, and Lincoln sets his beer down to briskly stand from the couch. “I’m gonna check on the lasagna. You good on beer?”

Lexa eyes him, incredulous. “I’ll be drinking this same beer in an hour. Quit trying to get me drunk.” Her phone buzzes while Lincoln exits, his laughter trailing after him.

Clarke’s name on her phone screen has Lexa shifting around on the couch, setting down her beer and resting her elbows on her knees. That now familiar coil of excitement swirls in her stomach as she opens the message.

Clarke Griffin (6:07PM): new artist featured at the coffee shop has some amazing photography of NY

Clarke Griffin (6:07PM): red hook, I think?

Lexa gives in to the tug at her lips, the way Clarke’s innocuous observation blooms warmth in her chest because of its casual consideration.

Clarke had been thinking of her.

She more often tries to suppress the way her mind wants to calculate just how much Clarke thinks of her. But tonight, she allows it. Even a momentary concession has Lexa biting at her lips to keep her smile from spreading.

(6:08PM): Clarke, please tell me you are not drinking coffee at six pm.

Clarke Griffin (6:08PM): Ok. Lexa, I am not drinking coffee at 6pm.

Lexa is readying her next reply, gently chastising Clarke for her irresponsible caffeine intake for what is likely the hundredth time, when Lincoln’s voice announces his return to the room.

“What’s Costia up to tonight?”

A lurch in her chest has Lexa nearly dropping her phone onto the floor. Mention of Costia while staring at an innocent message from Clarke is like a head-on collision in her brain. She blinks, closing her phone all together and setting it carefully on the table beside her beer.

It shouldn’t feel like an irritant, like vinegar in an open wound, but Lincoln asking after Costia grates the skin at the back of her neck.

Lexa works to remain calm, grinds her jaw, and goes for vague nonchalance. “Boston. Working late.”

“Damn, that sucks. Again?” Lincoln returns to the sofa and stretches his arm along the back cushions. Gus had since wandered off during Lexa’s less-than-scandalous text exchange about photography, but she returns to nuzzle at Lincoln’s calves.

“Par for the course,” Lexa exhales, willing herself to ease the raised hackles she feels along her spine.

Lincoln’s tone is sympathetic. “It’s been happening a lot lately, huh?”

After another sip of beer, Lexa turns into the couch, folding one leg beneath the other. “I’ve lost track, honestly.”

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, but I have a lot of questions.”

Lexa runs her fingers through her hair and stares at the drink held in her right hand. She doesn’t like to think about all the ins and outs and what-ifs of her current relationship, let alone voice her wandering thoughts aloud. But, Lincoln is a good friend—more than that, he is an integral part of her found family. She finishes the last quarter of her pint in two or three gulps.

“I’m probably going to require more beer.”

Lincoln smiles kindly, patting her kneecap before taking the empty glass and standing once again. “More of the same? Or do you want to try something else?”

Lexa stops herself from asking for an entire bottle of whiskey. “What else do you have?”

“Come have a look,” Lincoln offers.

She follows him into a petite kitchen, further dwarfed by Lincoln’s immense stature.

“It smells amazing in here.”

“Should be ready in the next half hour or so,” Lincoln tells her as he swings open the fridge door. There is a low shelf stocked entirely with various cans of beer. “Pick your poison.”

Lexa squats onto her haunches to examine a few of the labels, in the end deciding on an IPA she remembers seeing on the taps at Dockside.

“That’s a good one. Octavia is obsessed with it,” Lincoln tells her as he opens his cabinets for a fresh glass and snaps the tab on the beer can for her. He hands over the new glass of beer before rinsing the can and tossing it into a squat recycling bin beside his trash can.

Lexa rests the small of her back against the edge of his kitchen counters and enjoys her first sip while Gus winds around her ankles and flicks her bushy tail.

“Octavia has good taste.”

“Tell me something I didn’t already know,” Lincoln smirks.

Lexa shakes her head in mock astonishment. “Legitimately. Such an ass.”

His smile transforms to something more genuine as Lincoln props his weight against the counter opposite. “She’s a complete workaholic—never stops thinking about the job, reading up on new techniques, emerging brewers, hop varietals. All of it. The success of that bar is her life. She lives and breathes it, and it shows.”

“But she—” Lexa adjusts the fit of her plaid button down, swallows her uncertainties with another sip of beer, and forces herself to engage in a conversation she has long since ignored. “You two still spend a lot of time together?”

“I think the fact that our mutual interests and careers virtually overlap sort of helps. But, yeah, I think regardless of that, we would still make time for each other.”

Lexa can only nod in response, returning to her beer in lieu of anything profound to say in turn.

“Are you guys able to spend any time together at this point? Costia’s schedule seems heinous.”

“We are. Here and there,” Lexa shrugs. “We went to see an exhibit at the MFA last weekend, which was nice.” Lexa frowns at the floor. “None of this is her fault. She tries.”

“There’s not always someone at fault when things stop working,” Lincoln says, not unkindly.

It doesn’t stop Lexa from grinding her jaw on instinct.

“I moved here for her. If we were to—I don’t even know what I would do if that happened.”

“Lex, you told me months ago that you were moving here to sort things out—not just with Costia, but with yourself, too.”

Lexa nods again and answers softly. “I know.”

“Let me ask you this: if Costia’s schedule were different, if she were able to do what she loved in school while also making more time for you and her, would it make you want to hang out any less with, you know, other people?”

Not so oblivious then.

He doesn’t have to say her name explicitly—the knowing look they share speaks volumes. Lexa looks away and licks her lips, stalling a response as her pulse quickens.

“I don’t know if—”

Her half-formed response is interrupted by Lincoln’s phone ringing on the counter beside him. He grins as he picks up the call.

“Speak of the devil. Hey, Clarke.”

Lexa sips her beer helplessly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as her mind races. He’s answered the call on speaker, and Lexa braces for the distinct rasp of Clarke’s voice.

“Hey, it’s me,” Octavia answers, her voice sharp and distinct in it’s own way, and Lexa relaxes by a fraction.

“Oh! Hey, it’s you. Why are you calling from Clarke’s phone?”

“I can’t fucking find mine. Have you seen it at yours?”

“Uh, no,” Lincoln answers, nevertheless casting his eyes around the kitchen surfaces for any sign of it. “I can look around for it though.”

“We’re actually parked outside—”

“Hi, Lincoln!”

Clarke’s voice pipes through at a distance—as if Octavia hasn’t put the call on speaker but Clarke wanted to be included anyway. Lexa tenses in an instant.

“—on our way to Abby’s for dinner. Do you mind if I run up for a sec?”

“No, of course not. Come on up.”

“Are you sure? I’m not trying to interrupt your bro date with Lexa.”

“Hi, Lexa!”

“Clarke, is it possible for you to have any chill for longer than ninety seconds?” Octavia snaps.

A short and hushed squabble ensues over the next several seconds, likely within the confines of Clarke’s car. Lincoln shares a smile with Lexa across the small expanse of his kitchen as her stomach jumps with nervous energy.

“I’ll be up in a second,” Octavia grumbles.

She’s at the front door a moment later, and Lexa lingers by the kitchen doorway while Lincoln greets her with a brief kiss.

“Hey, Lexa.”

“Hi.” Lexa offers a half wave.

“I’ll be out of here so quickly, I swear.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you want help looking?”

“Nah, I’m good. Clarke wants to talk to you anyway.”

This jolts Lexa to a standstill where she had begun to move slowly towards the sofa with Gus at her heels.

“Oh, she—I uh,” Lexa swallows down a fresh set of nerves that Octavia doesn’t seem to notice.

“Babe, can you check the back deck while I look in your bedroom? I was out there this morning for a little while, and I might have left it on one of the chairs.”

“Sure,” Lincoln answers, his arm still slung around Octavia’s waist as he leans down to kiss the top of her head.

They’re both gone from the room in another instant, leaving Lexa standing awkwardly between the front door and the couch where Gus has perched herself atop the back cushions. Lexa hesitates for long seconds, adjusting the rolled sleeves of her shirt while gnawing her lip as the decision to stay or go to Clarke flits irritatingly against her conscience.

Gus observes her solemnly, and she swears it’s the same look her own father pinned on her during that summer she turned sixteen and formed an unwavering desperation to impress Nathalie Rivera, who Lexa did not, irrefutably, have a crush on. Even going so far as to bribe Lincoln into teaching her the Spanish he’d picked up from his new foster mom. Lexa’s determination to get her attention could not be deterred, but she was not romantically interested in any way, Anya’s accusational taunts be damned.

“Don’t give me that look,” Lexa tells the cat as she rests her beer on Lincoln’s coffee table, slips into her shoes, and heads for the door.

She practically sprints (without logical cause) down the flight of interior stairs to the main door, which opens onto a front walk, at the end of which sits Clarke’s silver car. Lexa manages to calm her breathing enough by the time she reaches the driver’s side of the car that she’s not visibly out-of-breath, but her lungs feel constricted nonetheless.

“Hey!” Clarke beams as she slips from the driver’s seat when she notices Lexa approaching.

“Hi.”

Lexa forces her mouth closed to keep from audibly stuttering. Clarke is often dressed at Dockside in an expansive wardrobe that feels like a personal attack on Lexa’s wellbeing. But, something about seeing Clarke in jeans and a warm sweater, looking casually elegant for a dinner with her mother, has Lexa stumbling over basic conversation skills like she hasn’t in years.

“You’re, um, you guys have—” she clears her throat, completely ineffectually, and Clarke very poorly hides her amusement.

“We’re on our way to my mom’s. Raven just got this major promotion so we’re celebrating by letting her cook us dinner.”

Lexa places her hands into her front pockets and smiles at Clarke as if her whole body doesn’t feel like a brittle, shaken leaf.

“You maintain very bizarre friendships.”

“That’s an interesting take coming from one of my best friends.”

“I didn’t know what I was getting into,” Lexa smirks. “Clearly.”

Clarke looks away with a laugh and leans against the side of her car to cross her arms along her stomach. The gold of her necklace pendant glints in the streetlamp above them. She nods towards the house at Lexa’s back when her laughter has subsided.

“Sorry we crashed.” Clarke’s face scrunches prettily with guilt, and Lexa makes the wise decision to avert her eyes with a shrug.

“It’s totally fine. Unavoidable emergency, right?”

“Or, they just devised a pathetic excuse to makeout for a few minutes.”

“Right,” Lexa laughs. She cranes her neck to look back at the house. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left them alone.”

“At this rate, they could be grabbing a quickie.”

It’s now Lexa who is twisting her mouth at Clarke’s overt sexual reference, hiding embarrassment behind disgust. “Clarke, ew.”

It only serves to make Clarke laugh again, and Lexa is forced to look away a second time.

“So what’s up? Did you need something? Or, did you just really miss me?”

“What?” Lexa must look horror-stricken because Clarke is sputtering more laughter. “No, I’m just—Octavia said you wanted to see me.”

Smooth. Very smooth.

“I didn’t—” Clarke starts to protest, looking a little unnerved herself before rolling her eyes. “She’s an ass.”

The familiar insult makes Lexa laugh, and Clarke smiles in kind. “She’s well matched then.”

“Lincoln? An ass?” Clarke looks scandalized. “No!”

Lexa shakes her head with a long sigh. “You have no idea.”

A charged moment between them stretches taut, as it so often does, and Lexa is reminded of all the other moments that have preceded it.

Tuesday night spent salvaging a failed dinner party.

A blissful day on the water in Clarke’s boat.

Coffee along the harbor.

Aimless walks about town. Lingering goodbyes.

And, countless other instances in which Lexa must fight this same impulse. She’s not at liberty to admit to such wants, let alone act on them, but the thought of kissing Clarke persists behind a veneer of practiced composure.

Sometimes Lexa thinks that if Clarke were to lean in, make the decision for them both, she would let her.

Clarke is too good a person to make such advances; even hoping for such an outcome is wildly unfair, and Lexa hates herself a little bit for it.

She wears a regretful smile that she presumes Clarke has come to recognize—the way it is reflected back to her as Lexa sighs. “So, I guess I’m going to head back up. Lincoln has promised me twice my weight in carbs.”

“Ooh!” Clarke’s eyes light up as they so often do at the mention of food. “What’s on the menu?”

“Lasagna.” The answer comes from over Lexa’s shoulder, and she turns to see Octavia ambling down the front walk with a small plate and a mouthful of pasta. “And, it’s so, fucking good.”

“Aren’t you two on your way to dinner?”

Octavia shrugs, “Appetizer.”

“I hope you know you’re sharing that with me,” Clarke tells her as Octavia rounds the car and opens the passenger door.

“You’ll have to pry the fork from my cold, dead fingers.”

Clarke scoffs, opening her own door. “As if cutlery has ever stopped me from stealing food off your plate.”

“I’ll see you guys later,” Lexa smiles, taking one or two backwards steps towards the house.

“Later, dude,” Octavia answers before closing herself into the car.

Clarke smiles warmly, her eyes softening even as Lexa creates more distance between them. “Bye.”

Lexa can feel the warmth of Clarke’s gaze at the base of her stomach, swirling lazily. “Bye.”

She ascends Lincoln’s stairs briskly, determined to figure out her emotional baggage sooner rather than later and finally get her life together.

:::

#a beer bud series #apu #a pleasant undoing #brewkru!#clexa fic

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thelangdoncooperative · 5 years

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Scary Love

Homecoming (Repost due to Tumblr’s dumb rules)

Two days later, Jim was in a 7-day detox program. Most of the time, he spent it sweating out every last piece of shit he had ingested. He couldn't sleep. His body was on fire. He was sweating but he was shivering. His body ached and, if he was being honest, he thought he was there to die. As the time passed, he felt better. They gave him pamphlets for longer rehab stays. They pumped him with an IV of fluids when he couldn't hold down any food. On the second to last day, Michael was finally able to convince them to allow Y/N to visit although she wasn't technically family.

When she walked into the room, Jim’s face lit up and he sat up in his bed.

“Hi Jimmy” she spoke low, voice thick with the tears she was holding back. He let her pet his hair for a brief moment before he pulled her in, holding her as tight as he could.

Michael smiled at their reunion and only spoke up when Y/N let out a sound that signaled her struggle for air, “Jim, let her breathe” he chuckled.

“Sorry” Jim laughed as he let her go. She sat beside him on the bed as he held her face, not saying much of anything.

She couldn't help but smile back, her face hurting from how much smiling she was doing, “Jimmy, you look so good,” she ran her finger down his nose before poking it.

“Thank you for everything,” he turned to Michael, “you too,”

Michael moved to stand beside his brother, gently patting his shoulder, “Anything. That's what a tribe does,”

Y/N had heard of their tribe before but to be in it was something else. To hear them say it made her heart soar, “You come home tomorrow. How do you feel about that?”

“Good,” he nodded, “I wanna get back to the water,”

Y/N smiled up at Michael before rubbing Jim’s thigh as she spoke, “One thing at a time. Do you have the energy?”

“Never felt better,”

“Okay,” she leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “if the doctor says it's okay than we can go,” she paused and frowned, “Where does your mother think you are?”

“Visiting me,” Michael said, “The only way she'd let him out of her sight,”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the thought of that insufferable woman. She stayed at Jim’s bedside for as long as they let her. She held his hand while he watched TV or spoke to Michael. She couldn't stop touching him in some way. While he was away, she craved being near him. It was the longest they had been apart since they met. Of course, Michael gave her updates every day when he came back from visiting but it wasn't the same.

“Jimmy, I've got to go,” she said as she stood and he shook his head.

“Stay. Who cares what they say?” He waved his hand dismissively at the nurses station.

Y/N laughed, “I care,” she hugged him once more, kissing his forehead, “I'm so happy to see my Jim again,” he lifted his face up and caught her cheek for a kiss. She smiled and looked at Michael as she left.

She waited in the hall, a few doors down, for Michael. She hugged him tight, releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding. She quickly wiped her eyes, “He looks so good. I haven't seen that much color in his face in so long,”

“He still has a long way to go,” Michael reminded her, tucking hair behind her ear.

She nodded in understanding, “I know but...still” she made a move to turn and then stopped, turning back to him, “When you're out of here, would you like to have dinner?”

Michael seemed surprised by the offer, “Uhm...yeah. Okay. Visiting hours usually end at 7,”

“So 7:30?…” she bit her lip and smiled when he nodded.

----

Michael was surprised that she wanted to drive. She had texted him she was outside his hotel at exactly 7:30. There was something to be said about her punctuality. Hanging out with Jim as much as she did he was surprised she had any at all.

He headed out of his hotel and found her Jeep parked right in front. She seemed a bit nervous the way she wouldn't meet his eyes and kept tapping on the steering wheel whenever they were stopped at a light. When they finally got to the restaurant he was finally about to really appreciate the girl in front of him. Her white cotton dress was a tad sheer and he could just make out the shape of her body underneath. Her hair was piled up on her head in a bun and the way a few strands came out and framed her face only added to her beauty.

He only looked at her as the waiter read them the specials and Y/N swallowed a chuckle when she caught him. When they were finally alone he asked the question he had been wanting to ask all day.

“If I may, why did you ask me to dinner?” He folded his hands on the table.

“Because we’ve been through a lot with Jim the last two weeks and I thought it would be nice,” she explained. He could see that she was biting down on the inside of her cheek.

“That's all? Just because of Jim?” He raised an eyebrow.

She opened her mouth and sighed when the words didn't come, “Michael, I-...I don't know what you want me to say,”

“I think you do,” He said nonchalantly as he turned the pages of the menu.

She reached over the table, putting her hand over his, “I like being with you. I like when you're home or when I go see you,” he could see how hard it was for her to admit what she was saying, “It feels sorta like I'm betraying Jim when I do,”

“You're not dating Jim,” Michael reminded her.

“Aren't I, though?” She shrugged her shoulders in defeat.

Michael had to give her that. They had never defined what they were. Hell, he wasn't even sure if they had even admitted to the other but the love was there, “You love him,” he said it as fact.

“And you,” she said.

“You see why that's a problem,” he closed his menu, his eyes boring into her soul.

She nodded, dropping her gaze when she couldn't stand him looking anymore, “He's fragile to a certain degree. He's home with your parents and I don't want to make anything harder for him,”

“Do you take care of him because you want to or because you think you have to?” Michael asked, taking her hand and stroking his thumb over her knuckles.

“Because I want to. Because I love him,” she stated confidently and plainly. Michael was satisfied.

“But you love me too” Michael thought about the words over and over in silence, “Don't tell him that,”

“I'm not stupid,” she retorted, “I just had to say it to someone,”

“A bit selfish if you ask me,” Michael scoffed.

She took her hand back from his, “Maybe...Yeah. Yeah, it was. I'm sorry,”

As he opened his mouth to speak, their waiter came back to take their order. The rest of the dinner passed and it took a minute for the awkward air to lift. They talked about Jim’s pickup time and taking him to the beach. Y/N couldn't get off work so she was going to meet them there afterwards.

The car ride back to his hotel was fairly silent too, aside from the soft music coming from the radio. Michael looked over to Y/N who looked straight ahead at the road. He leaned over, taking her right hand in his and laying it in his lap. She looked at him briefly with a smile before turning back to the road. The silence remained as Michael played with her fingers, lacing them with his and running his fingers along the creases in her hand until she pulled in front of his hotel.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” she smiled warmly.

He nodded and got out of the car. He turned back, leaning his head half in the window, “I love you too, by the way.” He didn't stay to find out what she thought. He only heard her light gasp as he turned to walk inside. Her car didn't pull out right away but he didn't look back.

The next day dragged on and on. Y/N tried to will herself to stop watching the clock. A watched clock never ticks, or so the saying goes. It never felt more true. When she was finally off the clock, she changed in the work bathroom. She put on the white bikini she knew Jim liked. Whenever she wore it, she would catch him staring at her ass. The one time she called him on it he swore it was because she had something stuck to her. She threw a dress over and it sprinted to the car. She already had her board in the back. Y/N liked to consider herself a safe driver but she never drove faster or switched lanes so much in her life. She wanted to see him.

When she parked her car at the beach, she could just make out her two boys down by the water. For that singular moment she was going to allow herself to forget about the day before. She was going to try and push everything out of her mind but the well-being of Jim. He was alive, he was detoxed and he was back home.

She walked down with her surfboard under her arm, damning the thing for being so bulky. All she wanted to do was run to them. She saw Jim turn, his hair floppy and wet, smiling at her with a grin so wide it made her heart hurt.

“Y/N” He yelled, dropping his board. She did the same as she ran to him. He picked her up in his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She did not expect the full on kiss he pressed to her lips, nor did she expect the light moan that escaped her lips when his slipped his tongue slightly passed her lips and they lightly grinded together as he lifted her up a bit to get a better grip on her thighs.

She pulled away quickly, aware that Michael was mere feet away, “Hi Jim,” she smiled, “Can you put me down?”

“Sure,” he laughed, setting her down on her feet but holding her against him, “I told you she’d come,” he turned back smugly to Michael.

“Of that I had no doubt,” he said, running his hand through his blonde hair and eyeing Y/N.

She pulled back from Jim, going back for her board, before explaining, “I know I was late. Work and all. Have you guys been here long?” She asked.

“Define ‘long’,” Michael asked as his eyes slowly took in the sight of her in so little clothing. Jim, so taken by her in front of him, did not notice his brother staring.

Jim laughed, “Michael was never a fan of the beach. Thank God for you,” he said as he threw his arm around her shoulder.

“Well are we gonna stand around or are we going to go in the water?” She asked.

“You two go,” Michael said, “I need a break,” he scanned her face once more before he retreated to the spot they had claimed earlier. Y/N didn't want to know what was going on inside his head. She should’ve been more careful with how she greeted Jim, she knew that now. She wasn’t used to having to do that. Her and Jim had always been playful and affectionate in their friendship but that was different. Jim had never kissed her like that before.

As they walked to the water, Jim turned to her, “You know, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things,” he stopped when the water was at their knees.

“Okay?” She chuckled nervously.

“I was thinking about me and you. Us together,” he said, rubbing his hand down his face, “What do you think about it?”

“I’m not sure what you mean Jimmy,” she looked out into the water. It was beginning to swell, “We should get out there,” He nodded and followed her. They were their normal free spirited selves out riding the waves. They teased each other if they wiped out. They splashed at each other while they waited for another swell to come in. When they had enough, they came back to shore, tired and sun-kissed.

“Have fun?” Michael asked as she laid on the blanket next to him. Her eyes were closed and her body was wet. He eyes roamed and he skimmed his knuckle down her side when Jim wasn't aware.

She squirmed when he did, not expecting his touch. She sat up, taking the sunglasses off his head and wearing them herself, “For now,” He smirked at her but turned his attention to the men coming down from the parking lot.

“Are those them?” Michael ask, squinting from the sun, looking up at the group who were rowdy and obnoxious.

Y/N nodded and turned to Jim, “Hey Jimmy, wanna go for a walk?”

He turned back from waxing his board to look at what had Michael’s attention, “No. I’m not scared of them,”

“It’s not about being scared. It’s about me wanting to go for a walk,” she hopped to her feet, “Please,” she put out her hand. The guys were closer and the one who had Jim do the dumbest shit, Chad, was already calling his name, “Jim,” she pulled on his hand.

“Fine, fine. Jesus,” he huffed and they left Michael, once again, alone on the blanket.

Jim laced his fingers through Y/N’s, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. When the water came close, she backed up. They had been out of the water long enough that it now seemed cold. He looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Jim, don't touch me” she nervously chuckled, pushing him away, “I’m so serious,”

He lifted her off her feet and spun her around, “What was that, Y/N? You want to go in the water?”

“James, do not!” She laughed and held onto the arms that held her, digging her nails into his skin. Their laughing stopped and he set her down when they heard yelling. They turned back to the source of the noise. Michael and Chad were coming to blows. Michael had yelled something about Chad being a piece of shit and that’s all Chad needed to start throwing fists.

Jim left Y/N to run to his brother’s side. He pushed through the circle that surrounded them, pushing Chad back, “What the fuck? That’s my brother” he shouted.

“Listen, you know the rules around here. Best teach them to your brother” Chad shouted back. Michael only took that as an invitation to continue to hit him. They fell to the sand, punching wherever they could get in a hit. When Jim finally pulled Michael back, Chad’s face was bloodied and bruised and he decided he had had enough. He went off to lick his wounds with his crew somewhere else.

Y/N had watched it all in horror, taking some ice out of their cooler and wrapping it in a towel, “Michael, you’re so stupid,” she said, her voice laced in panic. Her heart was racing a mile a minute.

“That’s my fucking brother, Y/N. He did this to him,” he yelled at her.

Jim nudged Michael’s leg with his foot, “ Don’t yell at her. She’s just worried for you,”

“Worried for you. Worried for me. That seems to be her job these days,”

Y/N wiped the blood off his face delicately before holding the ice to the swollen skin under his eye, “Don’t be an asshole, Michael” she said low. His face softened and his eyes fell, “Are you okay? Nothing broken right?” She gingerly lifted his hands, checking his reddened knuckles.

“Nothing broken.” He confirmed.

Jim began to pack everything up, “It’s time to go. I’ll bring all this shit to the car,” he said as he picked up the cooler and his surfboard. He turned back to Michael before he went, “Thank you,”

Y/N waited until Jim was out of earshot before she spoke, “I’m sorry about before,”

“Nothing to be sorry about. We don’t belong to each other,” he spoke harshly. Y/N held the ice with more pressure against his face, only stopping when he pulled away.

“Don’t be an asshole,” she repeated, “This isn’t easy for me either. It’s not like this is how I like to spend my days,”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “He just...he loves you. You can see it in everything he does. Every move he makes,”

Y/N looked up the beach where Jim was just an outline struggling to fit everything in Michael’s car and sighed, “Let’s go,” she stood, holding out her hand and helping him up the best she could.

When they got to his car, she handed him the ice, reminding him to hold it to his face, “Jim maybe you should drive,” She looked at Michael’s face one more time, “and maybe you shouldn’t go home. Go to your hotel, Michael. Don’t let Sandy see you like that or she’ll shit a brick,” The two brothers looked at each other and nodded in silent agreement. Jim left to pack Y/N’s board into her car.

Y/N came to the passenger side bending over to talk, “Are your sure you’re okay?” She asked as she gently ran her thumb over his bottom lip.

“As good as I can be,” he said as he put his hand over hers. She dropped her hand when she saw Jim come back, yelling about having packed her surfboard in her car. She gave Michael a quick kiss on the head, afraid to touch him anywhere else and left him to tend to himself.

Jim left his brother in the car to walk Y/N to hers a few spots down. He followed closely behind, leaving little room for her between his chest and the car door, “There’s still a few things we should talk about,”

“Jimmy, maybe we should focus on you first. On getting you on the right track,”

Jim looked down, hands on either side of her, leaning on the door of her Jeep, “Is this you letting me down easy and me not taking a hint?”

She shook her head, grasping his face in her hands to look at her, “I love you, Jim. You know that,”

Jim smiled that boyish grin that always made her stomach flutter, “Love you too, angel.” She hugged him tight and felt him brush his lips against her jaw as she pulled away.

“Behave,” she teased, “Go take care of Michael. He did good today,” she reminded him.

He nodded, “Yes, ma’am. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow” She smiled before climbing into her Jeep and headed home as confused as ever.

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rpeterthomas · 5 years

Text

Like most people I’ve been into cycling since I was a kid.

I remember opening my first mountain bike one Christmas. I couldn’t tell you anything about it apart from it being black with yellow tires.

I remember going for my first ride with my mum walking along side me and my brother. This is when a stranger stopped us to say my handlebars were on backwards.

What happened to that bike I have no idea. Like many of the bikes I had growing up, it most likely ended up a rusting hulk in the garden because we didn’t have the space to keep them inside.

Anyway, fast forward a about a decade and many bikes later. I’ve amassed a small fleet of custom bicycles that have occupied my spare time over the past 4 years.

The first one on the list would be my Duracell mountain bike. I got this as it was being given away as a promotional item. I don’t remember what exactly because I’ve owned the bike for at least 10 years in total now.

I used it a handful of times when I was 17, but living in a hilly valley town made it difficult to use and thus it was resigned to the garden until I moved to Cardiff in 2015.

As I’d moved to the city for university and work. I figured I’d need a mode of transport, Cardiff being a fairly flat city made the idea of cycling fun and easy. That’s when I decided to dig the Duracell bike out of retirement.

Needless to say, the bike was completely seized. I remember there being a puncture in the rear tire when I last used it, but being sat in the garden for all that time had taken its toll.

As I was unfamiliar with bike maintenance and repair (I had never even opened a puncture kit) I was unsure if the bike was worth saving or if I’d have to just buy a new bike, however having a limited budget at the time made looking for a new bike difficult.

So seeking some professional help, I went to my local Halfords store to see what they could do.

As it happens a friend of mine worked there and gave me the news that he could bring the bike back to life and have it in working condition for £55… Bearing in mind I had to carry this bike into the store because it was completely seized up.

Fast forward a week and here’s what I got back!

They had replaced the bottom bracket, brakes, brake levers, brake pads, inner tubes, brake cables and housing, gear lines and housing, front and rear derailleur arms and the rear cassette…

For all of you that are unfamiliar with bike anatomy, that’s basically everything that makes the bike move!

Of course. As happy as I was with the resurrection of the bike, I just couldn’t leave it in its stock setup. I had to make this mountain bike a useful city commuter that can take the urban and the mud. I started out by adding pannier racks and bags.

Ultimately the pannier bags above lasted about a week and the handlebar bag even less. They didn’t suit my needs, and keeping things on your bike while it’s locked up on the street just isn’t a great idea.

My modifications from this point had whole practical influences. I changed out the bars for a straight bar from Brick Lane Bikes and swapped out the horrid grip shift gears for some new combination Shimano EF41 quick shifters and brake levers. Finished off this some gold bar tape… Just because. This setup was then improved with the addition the Takeaway tray, another item from Brick Lane Bikes.

This setup helps me I’m the city because it makes the bike so narrow. I can filter through the heaviest traffic without worrying about accidentally scratching other vehicles, and the tray on the front has come in handy on so many occasions.

last items while moving out of old flat.

nor

carrying prints for exhibition

bluetooth amplifier in the summer

cages on back with backpack

Later additions came in the forms of a Pendleton satchel bag for my everyday use, and some metal carrying cages.

While in uni, using the duracell bike. I realised that sometimes I was taking out a really heavy bike built to carry things when all I really needed was something simple and lightweight to get me from A to B. So as a result of this I ended up buying a new bike from ebay.

Brand new this bike only cost me £160 including delivery.

A nice, simple, single speed bicycle with nothing unnecessary weighing me down… The only problem was, I hated the bars on it for some reason.

I already knew what I wanted, dropped racing bars and 2 position brake levers like I’d seen on vintage 10 speed bikes.

I found it a great bike and took its place as my main ride depending on if I knew I’d need to carry anything heavy or bulky.

When I had these 2 bikes up and running my commute to work was only around 500 meters or so, I made a point of living close to my workplace. In fact, some mornings it would take me longer to get the bike out of my flat than it would take to cycle to work.

However, in February 2017. My place of work changed location. Which meant that my 500m trip to work became a 7 mile round trip. Needless to say this was a massive step up in regards to my previous cycling endeavours.

The first few weeks were hell and I still couldn’t work out which bike would be better to commute with. A lighter bike with only one speed, or a heavier bike with the ability to adjust the gears… over time and with a lot of practice I was capable of cycling the route in a best time of 15:30 with either bike. I still believe I could have got that down to less than 10 minutes if it wasn’t for the 10 sets of traffic lights on the way. My health improved massively and my asthma almost completely disappeared. I was in the best physical shape I had ever been. My thighs muscles had even doubled in size!

As of this post I have started a third bike build for the sake of fun. This project bike was actually acquired as the same time as the duracell mountain bike and was in pretty much the same condition when I dragged it out of the garden at my family home.

I proceeded to strip off all the parts I didn’t want or were too damaged to use. This left with the frame and forks, wheel set, front crankset, pedals and rear cassette.

The plan is to get the bike up and running as a single speed cargo bicycle for now, with the intention to eventually get an 80cc engine kit and make it work as a cargo moped! I’ve only got as far as to get the wheels re-wrapped with City jets and I’ve also already started to cover the frame with stickers… Because it’s my project and I want to… other parts I’ve been looking at including this flat rat handlebar rack by Brick Lane Bikes

I know this post isn’t for the purist cyclists put there. Nor is it for the mountain bike crowd, or even the city commuter crowd. These bikes are built to my own, very weird specifications. They all serve a purpose that I need them to. And honestly I do it for the fun of building. There’s nothing more rewarding that looking at something you’ve created with pure glee and pride. Here’s to running these bikes for years to come!

Easy rider. Like most people I've been into cycling since I was a kid. I remember opening my first mountain bike one Christmas.

#army #Bicycle #bike #blogger #cardiff #cardiff lifestyle blogger #commute #cycle #design #fixie #health #Lifestyle #lifestyle blogger #photography #shopping #storage #travel

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