#forever jealous of tiny petite women

[ihatebnha]

With the beauty stuff going on here- think Bakugo and Shoto (maybe Shinso?) would comfort their s/o in regards to not entering certain clothing stores? I can't go into a lot of them because all/the majority of their clothes are for skinny/petite women and I can't fit into it. Plus, with all the good looking girls who work in those stores I can't help but compare myself and see the trash I am. Sometimes I get physically sick if I walk into the stores because its so overwhelming. Sigh. Wish those boys would be a comfort, but they'd probably just be awkward or break up wif me. Especially explody boy.

Legend... the only thing that’s trash here is your garbage attitude! I wanna let you know that I’m on the tubbier side, too... so when you say you’re trash, you’re calling me trash, too... and I honestly don’t like that nor do I agree... (and trust me, I hate fitting rooms too... why do you think i only wear pajamas all the time?)

because the truth is...YOU’RE NOT! You just live in a world that favors conventionally attractive and skinny people over everyone else. Obviously it isn’t bad to be either of those things, but we all have a duty to work hard at rewiring our brains to reevaluate society’s sense of beauty (esp since its very eurocentric, too). 

it’s also funny you sent me this because I honestly believe that all the boys in bnha like chubby girls (but ofc they don’t discriminate)! im very genuine when i say that EVERYONE is their ideal type, and i could honestly talk for hours about how they’re too busy being heroes to give a crap about petty things such as looks and weight. 

the truth is, “real men” (and real partners, for that matter) don’t care if you’re heavy, have beauty marks, anything, so therefore... the bnha boys dont mind those things, either. 

plus lmfao... todo, bakugo, and shinso are all actually in my top list of chubby chasers soooo (although im biased and think every character is on that list tbh)... 

none of them would break up with you for your insecurities! They of all people understand what it’s like to be ashamed of things (as Bakugo faces feelings of inferiority, Shinso has his quirk, and Todo’s family is bananas), so they would only want to comfort you if you ever expressed your concerns. 

Not to mention, they all seem like the type to be in a relationship for the long haul... So if they’re already dating you, it means they’re in it FOR LIFE🤞🏻

Which is why, none of what you do could ever bother them... and as for comforting... 

I don’t think either Bakugo, Todo, or Shinso are really going to notice if you don’t want to or can’t go into certain clothing stores. They’re heroes (and boys for that matter💀) with a lot on their mind, so if you mention you don’t like shopping somewhere, they’re just going to assume that you either don’t feel like it or it’s not your style. 

Their heads don’t really connect your insecurities with your shopping preferences, simply because they assume you already know what you like to wear and where you like to shop.

In Shinso’s case, while I can see him picking up on some of your subtleties, such as avoiding certain stores and/or sections, he’s probably not really going to think it’s a serious issue or bring up the topic unless you initiate the conversation yourself, mostly because he (doesn’t want to be at the mall) assumes you already know that he likes your body and really doesn’t care what you wear. 

That being said, when you are in fitting rooms together, he gets pretty handsy even before you start getting frustrated by things. Definitely distracts you from doing anything by whistling at you or grabbing at your thighs and pulling you between his legs from where he sits on the tiny stool they’ve provided... Also probably puts in some effort beforehand too, helping you pick out things that he likes and are more likely to fit in the first place.  

Bakugo is pretty similar to this, as well. With his parents working in the design industry, he definitely has a good eye for sizing and can help you pick out the most accurate things for your body type. He’s actually really useful because you can hold up anything, and he’ll generally have a pretty good idea on whether the style will suit you or not, and if it’s in the right size. This makes trying things on a bit more bearable, as you honestly end up fitting everything you bring into the changing room. 

He’s also good to shop with because he’s probably not gonna let you go to any shitty clothing stores either... So wherever you end up going is probably gonna have better stuff that’s in every size, anyway (it’s literally like 2200 and people have quirks... you can’t tell me stores would have things for literally every shape). The nice thing about this too is that everything you end up getting is super comfortable for that exact reason. 

Definitely can stay pretty serious in the dressing rooms... but you have to be careful because the moment you guys get home he’s gonna be horn-nee. 

Todoroki, on the other side of all of this, is literally motherfucking useless. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be comforting, it’s just he really just doesn’t put the puzzle pieces of your insecurity together AND thinks you look good in everything, regardless... so even if you tried to explain why you hate shopping, he’s just like “but everyone has things they don’t fit?” 

HOWEVER..... the redeeming quality about him is.... HE IS RICH!!! And probably grew up with a tailor, and/or at least a family stylist, so once you’re in with him, he just adds you onto the bill for that, too. Say goodbye shopping, hello to having clothing that fits you shipped right to your door... (and Todo just loves staring at you while you get measured for outfits). 

SO.... sorry for my earlier harshness... it’s just because I love and care about you sooooo much!! as well as understand what it’s like to feel like a freak in forever 21... 

ANYWAY... here’s just some little things I wanted to include, too! 

-

I used to think that Bakugo wouldn’t have a preference for thick girls, but then I saw this tik tok that was like, “my attractive friends always ask me where all the hot and fit boys are.... in these guts bitch” and my perspective changed entirely... I just know a beefy boy like him who has a mean mommy LOVES curves... like you can’t tell me he doesn’t see your belly and absolutely melts... like that shit is straight FAXXXXXXXXXXX no printer... (i also saw a tik tok today that was like, “would you fuck me if i was skinny? and the person said “i would fuck you right now.” and tbh that’s big baku energy LOL) 

Todoroki also definitely gives me vibes where if you’re like, “but i look ugly in ____,” he’s just like, “doesn’t matter, it’s you.” AND YES TBH i cried

AND shinso... god tbh shinso is the guy that all your friends are jealous of bc he’s the one who’s like, “I like my women with meat on them” because he doesn’t believe in skinny culture or diets... he wants you chubby bc chubby just kinda looks more correct.... tbh king shit

#bakugo x reader #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki #bakugo #shinso #shinso thoughts #bakugo thoughts #todoroki thoughts #sorry this took so long its hard to type with my nails #ask #anon #Anonymous #i went off sorry yall #and dont worry to my skinny queens bc they love u too

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 90

Warnings: none 

Tagging @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @tragiclyhip​, @alievans007​

“I have a serious bone to pick with you,” Riley scolds, thousands of miles away in her dorm room at Colorado State. Clad in a black and green plaid hunting jacket that’s miles too big on her petite frame, vibrant red hair tucked up into a ‘trucker style’ ball cap. “Why did I have to find out about this from Douchey McDouche Face?”

Despite there being a near fourteen year age difference between them and no blood ties whatsoever, their relationship has always been strong; even with the familial drama and the miles that have continuously kept them separated. Esme can vividly remember meeting her for the first time; a then three year old gazing up at her -all of seventeen- with pure adoration and idolization. That cute little ginger with her massive green eyes and her already fiery personality; drawn to Esme and her then tomboyish style and her penchant -despite her own small stature- for full contact sports.  She can even recall how good it had felt; having someone that DID look at her that way.

For years she'd been practically invisible; the last child between her mother and father, treated as if there’d been simply no love left to bestow on her after piling it on five boys. Her father had been her only source of real affection; the only person who’d ever showed pride in her achievements and never dragged her down for her choices or belittled her passions and interests. When he died, everything went to shit. While her mother’s   toxicity increased and she kicked the emotional abuse up several notches, her brothers had all tried -in their obnoxious and overbearing ways- to step up and take their father’s place in her life. They’d all failed, causing her to become uncharacteristically sullen and withdrawn; prone to cutting when the depressions and feelings of inadequacy hit especially hard and her mother no longer hide her rapidly growing hatred for her only daughter. Life had been pretty dark; many moments where she thought the world would be a better place without her in it and she’d actually been in possession of handfuls of pills and had the desire -and the chance- to end the suffering.

Then ‘The Sarge’ had come along. Filling that fatherly role without expecting or demanding it; letting her call the shots and make the moves when it came to accepting him into her life. And he’d ‘shown up’ in ways her mother and brothers never bothered; quietly and lovingly, showing interest in her life and valuing her opinions and thoughts and getting involved in the things she enjoyed. She was no longer the only one on the wrestling squad or the lacrosse team or at swim meets without someone there to support her. Sarge would always be there; sitting in the front row, enthusiastically cheering her on and nudging other parents with his elbow while proudly declaring “that’s MY girl!”.

And just when she thought things couldn’t possibly get better, they did.  Sarge was granted full custody of his only child; her mother choosing her career over that adorable redhead. Despite their age difference, she and Riley had become inseparable. Happily and willingly taking the little girl to the movies or the mall; listening to preschool gossip while out for dinner at McDonalds, letting the little girl climb into bed with her during thunderstorms or after a bad dream. Over the years they’d both been branded as  the ‘black sheep’; ostracized  for their ‘lifestyle choices’ and how ‘wayward and lost’ they’d managed to become.

Nothing brings two people together like shared alienation and pure hatred and spite for their ‘enemies’.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Esme attempts to reason, as she conducts the video chat in one of the ICU’s private family meeting rooms.  “I know finals are coming up. And you’ve been busy with placement. I didn’t want to add THIS to your plate.”

She’d left Tyler in extremely compassionate hands: a quiet and gentle Andy, who’d been standing over his sleeping friend and in the midst of a traditional Aboriginal blessing and prayer for healing.  She’d had to leave;  the purity and the beauty of both Andy’s heart and the moment too profound for her already fragile emotions to handle.  Instead she spends the time with both her sister and Addie; the infant cuddled close to her chest, a receiving blanket emblazoned with images of Baby Dumbo covering her as she nurses.  She had terribly missed even the simplicity and familiarity of such a common occurrence; the light weight of her daughter’s tiny body against hers, those tiny hands that gently  knead at her breast or grab at her necklace and reach for her hair.

“THIS is my brother in law,”  Riley says. “You know how much I love the guy. How much he’s the cat’s ass and I totally approve of how he treats you like a queen.”

“You’re one of the few people in my life who do. Love him.”

“Well NOT everyone can have exceptional taste.   They’re just bitter and jealous. You got out of that shit hole and away from their crap.   They’re all still stuck in and thriving on it; too chicken shit to ever think on their own, in fear of pissing off Mommy Dearest. Tyler’s the best thing that came along to that family in...well...forever.  They’re just pissed they can’t control him; that he gives zero fucks about any of them and doesn't shy away from letting them know.”

“Mommy Dearest still insists he’s the WORST thing to ever happen. That I’ve somehow been forced into this life and he’s somehow brainwashed me and has some strong and powerful hold over me that keeps me around.”

Riley gives a derisive snort.

“I mean even in her condition, she still managed to send me an email asking me when I was going to get my shit together and realize ‘that man’ is nothing but poison and bad news.  She didn’t even remember the twins’ birthdays or Millie’s. Or she did and just didn’t give a shit. She’s always treated those kids differently from the rest. All because she has this stupid, imaginary axe to grind against Tyler.”

“Fuck her,” Riley snarls. “You’re way too good for her. For that whole damn family. You always have been. And he is DEFINITELY way too good for them. Probably why none of your brothers like him; he makes them feel inferior and most definitely puts their masculinity into doubt. They’re probably pissed off their wives think of him when they’re flicking the bean.”

Esme frowns. “Riley!”

“Please tell me you’re still not bringing your bullshit; the whole insecurity crap. Who cares if other women lust after your husband? Or if they get themselves off thinking about him? Who is the one HE is getting off in person?  Who gets to have THAT going down on her whenever she damn well wants? Cut your shit; he only has eyes for you.”

“It’s not him I don’t trust.”

“He knows how to say no. I’m sure he has, many times.  No one else exists in his eyes. There’s not one woman in this world that would make that man unfaithful. So stop. Let other women...and probably more than a handful of men...fantasize about him. You get the real thing. I mean, he is so hot, he almost turned ME straight. Almost.”

Esme laughs at that.

“And that last picture you sent? The family one you guys did before Christmas? Whoa! Dude is looking thick and buff as fuck! What are you feeding him?”

“His favourite meal. Remember what he told you THAT was?”

“I sure as shit do! It’s the same as mine. Atta boy. The man from down under likes to spend a lot of time down under. That’s the spirit! And speaking of my favorite Aussie, what the fuck Tyler? What kind of god awful shitty mess did you get yourself caught up in?”

“Godawful shitty mess does not even begin to accurately describe what happened, believe me.”

“I called your place because I wanted to come down and visit for a couple of weeks next month. Finally see Australia! Bring the new girl for you all the meet. Cuddle my nieces and nephews and spoil the shit out of them with presents and candy.  And what do I find out? What does Fire Chief Dick for Brains tell me?”

“I’m sorry, Ry. I should have called you. I just didn’t want to burden you. I know you have a lot going on with school and placement and your social life and…”

“Fuck all of that. None of that matters. You’re my sister. That’s my brother in law. The father of my nieces and nephews. You’re my family.  All that matters to me is you guys.”

“Please don’t take it personally. It’s just a huge mess and my brain is not functioning at a hundred percent right now. All I’ve been concentrating on is him.  He’s my number one priority right now; helping him heal and getting him out of here and sent to a hospital back home. I didn’t purposefully leave you out.”

“Do you need me to come? Just say the word MeMe. I’ll get on the next flight.”

Esme smiles at the nickname; a little something a then four year old Riley had come up with because she couldn’t properly pronounce her new step sister’s name.  “I missed that,” she says. “Hearing you call me that.”

“You’ll always be MeMe to me. Do you need me there? Do you WANT me there? Because I will put everything aside and get to you. You know I will.”

“As much I’d love to see you and have you here, I don’t want you to do that. I want you to concentrate on school and your placement and your new love.  And Tyler would want all that, too. He would not expect you to drop everything for him. He’d give you shit for it, you know he would.”

“He is such a stubborn fuck, I swear. Love the guy, but he does my head in. And this isn’t about expecting it from me; it’s about me wanting to be there for you. I want to be there for you. Let me be there for you.”

“Ry, I love you and appreciate you so much. And I miss you. Terribly. But this isn’t the place for you. You need to stay where you are and concentrate on school and just get on with things.”

“How am I supposed to do that when Tyler is messed up like his? How am I supposed to concentrate on things when you’re going through this?”

“Because that’s what we BOTH want you to do. There is no reason for you to put your life on hold to come here. Everything is so up in the air right now.  There’s no timetable for his recovery; we have no idea how long it’s going to be until he can be sent home. And even then he’s going to be admitted to a hospital there.  It’ll be awhile until he’s home, home.”

“This is just such bullshit,” Riley sighs heavily. “I am so sorry. MeMe. That you’re going through this. I know how much you love him. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like; seeing him so torn up. It was bad, wasn’t it. What was done to him?”

“It was pretty damn bad.  He was in really rough shape when he was brought in.”

“How rough?”

“The roughest. Worse than seven years ago. Way worse. He told me that he didn’t want to die, but he was expecting it.”

“Jesus…” Riley breathes. “...for a guy like Tyler to come right out and admit that…”

“It was horrible; seeing him like that. I will never forget that as long as I live. I thought what I saw on the bridge...had to do on the bridge...was awful. But seeing him? After the surgeries and all the wounds so new and fresh?  I can’t even begin to describe it. How it made me feel.”

“I am so sorry,  I am so goddamn sorry.”

“I mean, that’s the love of my life. The father of my kids. The strongest person I’ve ever known. And to see him like that…like this…”  she takes a deep, shaky breath and releases it slowly.  “...it hurts. So much. That’s my whole heart, Riley. HE’S my whole heart.”

“I’m going to come there. To Dhaka. I don’t want you going through this alone. I don’t…”

“I’m fine,” Esme assures her. “I really am. I’m not alone either; a lot of friends are here to help out and watch over me. And now I’ve got this little muffin…” she lifts the edge of the blanket and glances down at Addie; those huge brown eyes staring up at her, then crinkling when the infant smiles.   “...it’s better now that she’s here. Or at least that one of them is here.”

“Do you want me to go to Australia? I can stay at your place, help with the kids. As much as I hate Fire Chief Dick for Brains, I’ll put up with him. Just for you.”

“The kids are fine, I promise. I just miss them. A lot. Once he’s transferred home, it’ll be a whole new ballgame.”

“Any remote idea on what that’s going to be?”

“Two weeks. Three at the most.”

“Shit…”  Riley shakes her head. “...oh Tyler, what the hell bruh…”

“It could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse. There could have been five kids with no daddy.”

“I don’t even want to think about that. How is he now? How is he doing?”

“He’s being weaned off of sedation. He has wakeful moments; periods where he’s pretty lucid.  His memory is shit; he asks the same questions at least six times an hour. That’s just the meds though. They said once the sedation is totally out of him, his brain will go back to normal.”

“Whatever normal is for Tyler,” Riley chides.  

“He’s able to stay up for quite a while. He can carry on a conversation, but he gets confused really easily. And then he gets frustrated and embarrassed and he starts shutting down.  And his emotions are all over the place; joking and somewhat happy one minute,  a weepy mess the next.”

“How’s the PTSD been?”

“Now that he’s more coherent? It’s been a mess. When he wakes up he’s very disoriented and if he’s alone or there’s people in the room he doesn’t know…”

“Freaks out?”

“He loses it. His fight or flight kicks in. And you know Tyler…”

“Always picks fight.”

Esme nods.  “And he doesn’t know what he’s doing or saying when he’s like that and he’s freaking out because he thinks I’m dead and no one can convince him otherwise. A PSW came in; while I was out. Woke him. To wash his hair and trim his beard.”

“Oh no…”

“He fucking lost it, Ry.  Which I knew would happen and is why I told them NOT to send someone in.  He just went off. It took four people to hold him down, and that was AFTER they gave him sedation. You would have thought nothing was wrong with him; that’s how hard he fought.  This is a man who can’t even walk right now. And he still scared the shit out of the PSW. Threatened to break his neck with his bare hands and told him how he’s done it before. Many times. Then told him he’d rip his head off and shove it up his ass.”

“So what’s the difference in him after all this? That sounds like Tyler on a good day.”

Esme can’t help but laugh.  “I think he made the PSW piss his pants.”

“Serves him right if he can’t follow instructions. Is it in his chart? That no one is supposed to come in?”

Esme nods.

“Well fuck him then.  Read the patient’s chart. It’s not that hard. Is it wrong that I’d give my right arm to see him rip someone’s head off and shove it up their ass? I bet he could do it too. I bet he’s done shit that defies logic.”

“Well he did once kill two people with a garden rake.”

“How fitting. A Rake, using a rake.  Perfection.  What’s his injuries like? Kyle says they’re pretty gnarly.”

“Why do you sound so pleased at the thought?”

“I’m in nursing school. This shit excites me. I can’t help it.”

“Gunshot wound to the back, lots of stitches, a torn MCL and ACL, open fracture of the right femur…”

“Do you have pictures of it?”

“Of what?”

“His femur.”

“Hell no, I don’t. Why would I want pictures of that?”

“Because that would be fucking amazing to see. Was it a true open fracture? Bone protruding and everything?”

“I guess. His friend said the bone was showing.”

“That is wild. I would have loved pictures; before AND after.”

Esme grimaces. “You’re disturbed.”

“Did they give him an ilizarov?”

“They said it would be on for a least three months. He is NOT happy.”

“Can you take pictures of that? And the gunshot wound?”

“Riley…”

“For scientific reasons, I swear. I just want to see them. I could even show my one prof and Tyler could be a case study.”

“I’d rather my husband NOT be one, thank you. He’s not your show and tell project.”

“Just go and take a couple pictures. Please? Pretty please? With  whipped cream and sprinkles and a cherry on top?”

“He’s sleeping. I am not going in there and waking him up because you're a freak.”

“Best time to do it; when he’s sleeping.”

“I would never do that to him. There’s this thing called consent. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it…”

“When he wakes up, ask him if you can take pictures. If you tell them they’re for Red, he’ll be good with it. I know he will. He loves me.”

“He does, actually.”

“I can’t wait to see you guys. I’ll come down; once he’s in a hospital there. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

“I talked to Mildred by the way…”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Millie is NOT short for Mildred.”

“Actually, it is.”

“Her name is not Mildred, though.”

“She LOVES when I call her that. Loves it.  Anyway, how grown up is she sounding all of a sudden? It’s like she’s six going on sixteen! What is up with that kid?”

“She’s her father. What more do I have to say?”

“She even sounds like him! The way she says certain words and little sayings she has. I couldn’t believe it; it was like talking to a mini, girl version of him.  Freaky!  She’s pretty pissed, huh? At you?”

Esme sighs. “Unfortunately.”

“I told her to smarten up. That she’s got a great mom and she needs to appreciate it AND you. I told her to get her shit together and respect you. That if her dad finds out what she’s up to, it won’t be pretty. I said that he’ll stick up for her mom no matter WHO is disrespecting her. I think that scared her.”

“There’s nothing she hates more than the thought of her daddy being mad at her. That’s her WORST fear, I swear.”

“Well she needs to cut the attitude. I don’t tolerate that shit. I don’t think I’m the favorite Aunt anymore, by the way.”

“You’re her only Aunt.”

“I guess I’m excommunicated then.  And speaking of being an aunt, let me see my little poop face.”

Esme removes the blanket covering Addie, then holds her onto the arms and places her in line with the camera.

“Oh my God…” Riley gives an excited squeal.  “...look at Auntie Ry Ry’s little poop face! You’re getting so big!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Esme laughs. “She just got into the newborn clothes. She’ll be four months.”

“She’s still grown a lot since the last time I saw her. Look at you, Addie! Look how beautiful you are. Look at how much you look like your mommy! You’re the lucky one, huh? Getting your momma’s looks? She’s smiling, MeMe. That smile is everything! She has Tyler’s smile.”

“It’s the one thing they all inherited. And she also got his appetite. I really need to get back to feeding her and I know it’s not the most pleasant thing to see while trying to have a conversation.”

“I don’t know, MeMe. I’ve had to look at worse things. You’ve got really nice boobs, actually. Tell him I said he’s lucky.”

“You’re too much. But I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.”

“As soon as you guys get home, I’ll be on my way,” Riley promises. “And if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me. Right away, hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Chin up, okay? He’s got this. He’s a tough shit. He’ll be alright.”

“I know he will,” Esme says confidently, then blows her step sister a kiss in farewell before killing the video feed.

****

She pokes her head into the room when she returns, smiling when she finds him awake and sitting up in bed; the angle of the mattress slowly increasing with each hour, giving his back used to being in different positions and not allowing the muscles to settle and stiffen.

“Hey,” she greets. “You’re awake.”

“I am.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m texting you. Just taking me forever; hands won’t stop shaking.”

“I’m here, you might as well just tell me what you want to say.”

“I’m gonna send it anyway…” a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “...I’m almost done. Be patient.”

“That’s more your thing; being patient.”

“You’ve been plenty patient the last couple of days. There...all done...sent.”

Her phone vibrates within the pocket of her hoodie, and she pulls it out to check the message; smiling at the simple -yet honest and heartfelt- words. “You’re cute,” she gushes. “I’m going to send you one back.”     She steps out into the hall; composing her own text. Just a short and sweet: I love you too.   Accompanied by a selfie of her puckering her lips for a kiss. “Well…” she pokes her head back into the room.  “...did you get it?”

“Yep.”  A broad smile spreads across his face. “Want me to send something back? A dick pic?”

“Not when there’s a tube in it, I don’t. I do have a separate file for them though; where I put all the dick pics you send me when you’re away from home.”

“You’re dirty.”

“You’re the one who sends them! Where’s Andy?”

“He went downstairs to get something to eat. I told him I’d be fine by myself.”

“Pretty awesome, huh? That he can all this way to see you?”

“Yeah, it is.  He’s a good guy; I’m glad I sucked it up and talked to him that day at the school. Why are you poking your head in like that? Why don’t you just come in?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Are you naked?”

“You wish.”

“Is it a blowjob?”

Esme frowns. “What is wrong with you?”

“A lot. I probably couldn’t get it up anyway. Not with a tube sticking out of it and all the meds I’m on. What’s the surprise? Want me to close my eyes? Will it make it better?”

“This is going to be an awesome surprise no matter what. But go ahead.”

“You ARE naked, aren’t you. Baby, as much I appreciate your willingness and your effort to make me feel better at all costs, that part of me is not gonna work right now.”

“I am definitely NOT naked. It’s going to be a while before you get to see me with no clothes on. You are nowhere close to being ready for that.”

“You’re underestimating me.”

“That’s one thing I never do, trust me. You want the surprise or not? I promise you, this is an amazing one.”

“Even better than when the kids make me breakfast in bed and cupcakes for my birthday?”

“Even better,” she says, and then waits for him to close his eyes; carrying Addie into the room. “Don’t open them until I tell you to.  I brought you a little visitor.”

“One of those hospital therapy dogs? Like a corgi or some shit?”

“Way better and way cuter.”

“I don’t know, wife. Those are pretty damn cute.”

“Trust me, this is much better and will cheer you up a hundred times more than any dog ever could.”  She stands on the right side of the bed; easier to transfer Addie onto his good arm.  And she removes the receiving blanket draped over her daughter as she leans over the railing; a smile already curving the baby’s lips and her tiny hands reaching for her father.  “No sudden movements, alright? You don’t want to accidentally hurt the surprise. Open your eyes.”

He does as he’s told. A brief moment of confusion etched on his face as he looks down at the baby in his wife’s arms, then up at her. “Are you serious?”

“Andy brought her.  She’s been missing you just as much as you’ve been missing her. Look at her; she’s already smiling at you. She’s so happy to see you. There’s no one she loves the way she loves her daddy.  Wait until you see her little outfit.”

“I thought she wasn’t coming until tomorrow. That Ovi was bringing her.”  His eyes narrow. “How long was I asleep??”

“There was a change of plans; a little something Andy and Ovi came up with together. Here…”  she gently lays Addie along his left forearm; settling the baby’s head in the crook of his elbow. “...look at her little shirt? Isn’t it perfect? Daddy’s little peanut. Andy made it for her.”

“It is perfect. SHE’S perfect.”

“Look at her looking at you...look at that smile..all she sees is her daddy. Not what happened to him. Feels good, right? To have her here? To have her in your arms like this?”

“Yeah…” emotion chokes at him, and he leans down to press a kiss to Addie’s forehead, lightly chuckling when those tiny hands grab at his hair and his nose. “...feels amazing, actually.”

Esme leans into him, draping an arm across his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure she feels the same way. She definitely missed you.”

“I missed her,” he says, and kisses the tip of Addie’s nose. “Daddy missed you so much, baby girl. So much.”   The tears come now; a mixture of relief and happiness combined with the anger and frustration at being laid up and unable to perform even the simplest tasks for himself.

“Hey…” Esme places a kiss to his temple and rubs and squeezes his shoulder. “...it’s okay.  All uphill from here, remember? You’re doing amazing; don’t doubt that. Please don’t doubt that.”

“I didn’t think I’d get this chance again; to see her, hold her. I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t.”

“Well you’re a tough cookie, Tyler Rake. If there’s anyone on this earth that can survive THAT and do this well, it’s you. I know how much you love proving people wrong. And you’re doing that. I also know how much you want to get out of Dhaka. I know that’s your main driving force for trying as hard as you are.”

“I just want to go home.  Even if it is to a hospital there. I just want to be home.”

“Soon,” she promises. “And if you keep doing as well as you are, it will be even sooner than any of us thought. I don’t want you to hurt yourself though, okay? I know sometimes you try to do to much, too soon. And I don’t want you doing that. I don’t want you busting your ass to the point it sets you back.  I know you don’t want that either.”

“I just want to feel my legs. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t. It freaks me out. I wake up and I forget it’s only temporary and I fucking lose it. You know that’s one of the worst things possible in my eyes; not being able to do things, not being able to have the life I had.”

“There’s no reason to worry about that. In a couple days, you’ll get the feeling back. This too shall pass.  It won’t be a while until you’re back to being the old you, but you WILL get there. I promise.  And you can’t tell me this won’t help. Having Addie here. That it won’t lift your spirits a bit.”

“She already has. She’s lifted them a lot, actually. I didn’t think I’d ever get to do this again. See you, see her.”

“Well, you DID get to do it. We’re here. We’re BOTH here.”  She moves her hand to the nape of his neck, massaging gently.  “Are you okay with her? She seems pretty happy where she is; I don’t think she’s going to want you to put her down anytime soon.”

“I’m good.  I’m not giving her up.  They’d have to pry her out of my cold, dead hands. She’s getting bigger, huh?”

“I thought the same thing when I first saw her. Feels like we’ve been away from her for a lot longer than we have. She’s still super tiny though.”

“She is. Just a wee little thing. Like her momma,” he presses another kiss to Addie’s brow. “Beautiful like your momma too.”

“In case you haven’t noticed by now, daddy is extremely  biased when it comes to mommy,” Esme addresses the infant.  “He always has been.”

“It’s not being biased when it’s the truth. It still feels weird; how light she is. Even Tanner with all his issues was never this small. She’s definitely all you. Now I’ll have two people small enough to pick up and put in my pocket.”

She combs her fingers through his hair and pecks his cheek. “You sure have your cute moments.”

“You seem to bring that side of me out.”

“Well it’s a very nice side.  But I like all your sides, so…”

Smiling, he tips his head up towards her, and she leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

“I know you didn’t agree with it,” she says, when he turns his attention back to Addie. “Her coming here.”

She notices the wince that briefly takes hold of his face; the simple action of using his right hand to tug the baby’s socks back up causing pain in the injured shoulder.

“I was just worried. About her being here if things went to shit again. I know we think they’re all gone; Asif’s people.  But I didn’t want to take that chance. Especially with her.”

“There hasn’t been any movement. Not even a whisper of trouble.  And you know Anil; he’s got all kinds of ears to the ground. I think it’s really over this time. I think we’re finally going to be able to put this place behind us. It’s time; to leave Dhaka behind.”

“I definitely don’t plan on coming back for a visit, that’s for sure. So if you have Dhaka on that ‘places like you’d like to vacation’ list, you can go ahead and erase it right now.”

“I have had enough of Dhaka to last me a lifetime, believe me. You know, you have this real habit of choosing extremely dramatic and painful ways to get out of taking me anywhere.”

Tyler grins. “Neither of the times I bailed on you were intentional, I swear.”

“I think we should stop planning ahead when it comes to going away. It’s like we jinx it somehow; talking about it too soon.  How about next time, we just decide on the spur of the moment to go somewhere? That way we shock the universe with our spontaneity and it doesn’t have time to recover until we’re BACK from our trip.”

“Sounds good to me. And we’re going to need one; a trip. When all this is over. I know it’s going to be a while, but we are definitely going to need a vacation.”

“Well tell your pocketbook to expect Bora Bora or The Maldives. I’m getting my suite on the water.”

“I will get you whatever you want, baby. Whatever your little heart desires.  You just tell me what it is and I’ll do it. I’ll get it for you.”

“You healthy and back on your feet.  That’s all I want.”

“I’m working on it.”

“I know you are,” she kisses his temple. “And you’re doing amazing. I’m so proud of you, Tyler. So fucking proud of you.”

“You’re going to make me cry. Again.”

“I can’t help that you’re so beautiful when you cry. And it would be happy tears, right?”

“Very happy tears.” He lays his palm on Addie’s stomach, all of her fingers wrapping around one of his. “She’s tiny, but she’s strong. Has a hell of a grip.”

“She’s like her daddy. Tough as nails.”

“I don’t know,” he smiles up at her. “I think her momma has me beat in the toughness department.”

“I think…” she places a kiss to his brow, then the bridge of his nose. “...you totally underestimate yourself. He does, doesn’t he, Addie? Underestimate himself. Tell daddy he’s tough as hell and the strongest, bravest person you know. Tell him how the sun shines out of his ass and he poops glitter and pisses rainbows. That’s how you look at him, might as well tell him too. Because his ego isn’t quite big enough, yet.”

He smirks. “My ego took a hell of a beating.”

“Well tell your ego to shut the fuck up,” she affectionately tousles his hair. “There was nothing you could have done, Tyler. You didn’t know this going to happen; that things were going to go this bad. There was nothing to suggest that he who shall not be mentioned was capable of something like that.”

“We both knew he was sketchy as fuck.”

“Being sketchy and being psychotic are two totally different things. You did everything right; you got Neysa and Aarev out, you went back to get him out.  There’s no way you could have known what he was going to do.”

“Should have listened to Koen and left his ass there.”

“Koen said that?”

He nods.

“You remember that? Him saying that?”

“I can remember things that happened BEFORE it all went down.  Things that I said, that other people said. I can remember getting Neysa and Aarev out and going back in to get N...him.  But after that, it’s pretty muddled.”

“But you do remember things?”

“I THINK  I’m remembering them. I THINK  it’s things that happened. I’m not sure though; if they’re real or my brain is just making shit up. I DO remember...vividly...him shooting me in the back. Everything else? I don’t know what’s real and what I’m imagining. And honestly, babe? I don’t think I want to remember.”

“But you might. And that could get pretty scary for you; things coming back to you.”

“I know.”

“Once we’re home, we’ll get you some help okay? Some therapy. For the mental stuff.”

“Alright.”

“I know you hate that side; seeing therapists and talking to strangers and having to take meds. But you know what I hate? Seeing your brain torturing you like it does. I hate that you have to go to war every damn day with your own mind. I just want you to be okay.  You know that, right?”

“I do know that. I’ve never doubted that. Not once in the last seven years.”

“Even the toughest need help, sometimes. And I’ll get you that help. I promise. I’ve got you. Always.  You’re my ride or die, remember?”

“Yeah…” he chuckles. “...you’re mine too.”

“You’re going to be okay,” she assures him. “Inside AND out. You’re already on your way.  And I’m not going anywhere. I'll be here, right beside you, every step of the way.”

“What about after? When I AM better? You still going to stick around? The whole pain meds thing?”

“We talked about that. You know where I stand; about you needing to deal with that. That’s a deal breaker, Tyler. Because I can’t live like that. And I won’t let our kids live like that either. I love you. More than you could possibly ever comprehend. But that? I can’t do THAT.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to. I don’t want to lose you. Or my kids. Whatever I need to do...whatever YOU need me to do...I’ll do it. No hesitations. Whatever it is.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? Let’s concentrate on what we’re going through right now. One thing at a time.  I don’t want you to worry about anything else, alright?”

He nods. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”

“I love you,” she says, and leans down to press a kiss to his lips.   “We’re going to get through this. Our track record for getting through tough shit is at one hundred percent.  I want to keep it that way.”

“Yeah…” he closes his eyes as she rests her forehead against his. “...so do I.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic

[sunflowersteves]

You Can’t Have Roses Without Thorns || ch. two

summary || Colossus makes you go to a superhero support group. You hate the idea of being in the same room as those lameos until a certain someone shows up late to the meeting.

author’s note || Sorry it’s been a while, I’ve had some writer's block but I’m starting to make my way out of it. I also just started college so I’ve been HELLA busy. I hope to continue to write more soon. I hope you enjoy the second part!

warnings || some angst, swearing, mentions of depression

chapter one // m.list

It’s been a couple of weeks since you had started that woo hoo! I’m a superhero but I’m sad group. You had made a lot more friends and It surprised the fuck out of Colossus (he was totally jealous) but you were starting to be more social.

You had made friends with the ever-loving brooding—Wolverine, the cheeky—Valkyrie, and the kid who you still didn’t know what his powers were—Peter. You often had drinks with them afterward, and Peter had milk.   

But most importantly, the one person in the group that you wanted to know so badly than any other is Natasha Badass Romanoff. The best part? You have had at least four conversations with her. It wasn’t ideal, you had wanted a lot more than small talk by this point but you’d take it. 

Today wasn’t new, you sat in your usual seat 10 minutes late with Natasha not too far behind you. Steve went ahead and started the group session. A lot of time had passed but Nat (as you liked to call her—not to her face though) never seemed to show. This session, you had also not talked as much. Your mind had gone rambling on to itself on where she could be, you didn’t want to pry but you were pretty disappointed in not seeing the red locks.

Steve noticed you occasionally stealing glances at the seemingly shiny metal chair, he sighed to himself hoping Nat was just... an hour late. He saw the connection you wanted with her and he also saw how Nat was around you but he also knew that she was never one to open her feelings. He also knew that feeling too well. Maybe Steve would talk to her at the compound, encourage her to go on a date.

You stand, politely declining (not without a sassy comment) your friends when they asked if you wanted a drink. Due to the disappointing stinging in your chest, you decided that drinking probably only would make it worse. You started to walk out of the double doors of the old run-down building when an enticing splash of red caught your eye.

There she was leaning on the wall next to the ancient and very germy water fountain. Natasha Romanoff had been listening in but never seemed to get the courage to open the doors. She had experienced nightmares, the unmerciful memories flooding her sleeping mind.

If she was being completely honest with herself, one of the reasons she didn’t want to go in because she didn’t want you to see her as an absolute wreck. Sure, most of it was the fact that she just didn’t want to talk about it. she knew her mind wasn’t in the most splendid and enthralling state but there was a sliver—a teeny tiny part of her that knew she just didn’t want you to see her like this.

“Oh, hey Natasha.” You put your hands in your jacket pockets, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Her blue enraptured eyes locked with yours, one hand on her cheek and the other supporting her forearm. “Y/N.” She curses at herself over the excruciating silence that fell between you both. She caught a glance at your face and she felt a pang rupture in her stomach. You were chewing on your lip, looking at the floor, and shuffling your feet around. To say you were cute was an understatement. Natasha blushed at her thoughts but more importantly felt bad. Did you think she didn’t attend because of you?

“Hey” you looked up, your eyes frantically looking at hers. She absentmindedly beamed at you. “I was actually going to get coffee, would you care for some?” You nodded, a slight blush tinted onto your skin. This is the first time you were actually at a lost for words. Your mind racing a mile a second. Natasha smiled at you and gestured for you both to start walking.

- - 

The walk there was succumbed to the utter silence. You would both steal glances at each other, opening mouths to say something, but then, of course, immediately closing it. At the same time, you didn’t want to say anything. You didn’t need to, with her being Black Widow and you an immortal being, was there anything to REALLY talk about?

She turns to you with a small smile. “How about this place?” Your eyes light up which makes Natasha’s stomach do flip flops but she would never tell you that. “It’s perfect!” You blushed at your enthusiasm as her smile got brighter. It was a petite French Cafe, baby blue sprung beneath your eyes and the french words danced along with your pupils. You both walk in, the cashier happily greets the two of you and you order a cappuccino while she orders just a shot of espresso. You sit down at a small table, in the style of French chairs while you wait. 

You try to make small talk but your mind goes into a different direction. For fuck’s sake, you’re immortal. She knows this too so why would she make this effort? You’ve heard of the black widow before: cold-hearted, heavily trained, isolated, and even more than you can list off. Apparent;y, you had a sullen look on your face because she tilted her head to the side. “Y/N, are you okay?” You nodded but you knew that she knew better. She’s a spy, she knew you weren’t. The cashier finally came around with the drinks. She gently took a small sip of her espresso, not wanting to finish the coffee too fast in order to spend more time with you. 

She sighed, put down the small cup and straightened herself up to look at you. “Look, Y/N.” She paused, trying to find the right words. “I’m not good at confrontation but I really like you. I never wanted to go to Steve’s stupid makeshift AA meetings but I didn’t want to stop. Not because I needed it but because I wanted to see you. Everyday.” She was fiddling with her thumbs, she was nervous. She looked up at your for some kind of reaction, for her to keep going. Your eyes were wide but gave her every ounce of attention that you had in you. 

This gave her a sign to continue, “I have a pretty good grasp as to why you have that look on your face. I mean, you’re immortal but I’ve never felt this way with anyone before. Sure, I’ve had my fair share of men and women in my romantic life but this is... different. I know that I belong with you. And I just...” She pauses again and holds out her hand for you to hold it. You oblige and reach out, rubbing your thumb back and forth on her knuckles but you still had the sad look in your eyes. This all felt right. “I just want you to know that... If the time comes, I’m willing to be immoral with you. I want to belong to you, forever.” You immediately tensed up, your eyes as wide as they can be. You wanted to let go of her hand but she had a tight grip on it. “I’m sorry, what? No, Nat.” You stood up, dropping her hand. Tears sprung to your eyes as you left the cafe and Nat standing there alone. You had to think, to get away from her sparkling eyes, furious red hair, and body like a greek goddess. You shouldn’t be near her. 

Your depressed ass could never let her become immortal. Never, ever. 

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x read #natasha romanov x reader #Black Widow #black widow fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel fan fiction #lesbians #lesbian fanfiction

[thank-god-and-you]

A/N: This is a very, very belated birthday present for the lovely Amy. I am so, so sorry it’s taken me so long to finish this for you. I hate myself. But I hope it was worth the wait and you can still enjoy it even though your birthday is long gone.

-- --

Broken Eggs, Mending Hearts

“Well, look at you,” said Robert. “All set up in a home of your own. I’m proud of you.”

John snorted, a touch bitterly. “You have low standards, then.”

They stood together in the pokey front room, squashed tightly together. Neither of them were small men and the living space, advertised as comforting, was most definitely uncomfortable.

“At least you’ve got a place of your own now,” said Robert bracingly. “It’s better than still being stuck in that house with Vera, you have to admit.”

Yes, he could concede to that. The house had been a point of contention with them over the last year, with Vera demanding that he give it up to her, and him refusing in turn. But he was so tired of the way that it was stalling the divorce, so tired of being tied to her, and in the end he had decided that no property was worth this level of unhappiness. So he had conceded to signing the house over to her if she was willing to put her signature to the divorce papers. So far she had remained silent on that matter, but he hoped that the promise of winning that particular battle would make her more amenable to compromising. This flat was far from the thing that he’d wanted, but it got him out of the house and on the way to being an independent bachelor once more, so at least that was something.

He just wished that he’d been able to afford something a little better than this. Vera was trying to bleed him dry in the divorce, and until all that was settled, he couldn’t begin to build up his savings. For the time being he was stuck here.

“You’re right,” he said. “The only good thing about this whole shitty situation.”

“Don’t be like that. There’s always a silver lining, no matter how small. Sometimes we have to take small steps to achieve big things.”

“Are you just going to stand there and spout nonsense from self-help books at me?” said John, reluctantly amused.

Robert put his hand over his heart, pretending to be mortally wounded. “I’m just trying to help you, Bates. But if you don’t want that, then fine. I’ll go.”

John checked his watch. “That might not be a bad idea. I’ve still got to get these things sorted out, and I’m going to have to nip to the corner shop to get some things in for tonight.”

“I can do that for you. Or you can come over to ours for tea. Cora would be happy to have you.”

John wasn’t sure how true that was; he and Cora were polite and civil to one another, but he had the feeling that she wasn’t overly keen on him. She’d told him that she was very, very grateful that he had saved her husband’s life but he thought that she was a little jealous, too, of the tight bond they had shared for so many years. After all, there were things that John knew about Robert that he doubted his friend would ever breathe to Cora, no matter how strong their marriage was.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I ought to go out and get a feel for the surroundings. But thank you. I do appreciate it.”

“No problem. You know where I am if you need me. And I insist that you come over at the weekend for Sunday dinner. I don’t trust you to look after yourself. You’ll need a good feeding, and I won’t see you going down the nick.”

“You’re worse than my mother.”

“I know what you were like during our time in the army, that’s all. And you couldn’t cook for toffee.”

“Neither could you. In fact, you were a lot worse than I was. Who was the one who almost set fire to the whole camp?”

Robert waved his hand dismissively. “Details, details. Besides, I lucked out with Cora. She’s clever, gorgeous, and can cook a decent meal. I’m forever in her debt.”

“And never forget that again,” said John mildly. “If you really don’t mind having me, I suppose I’ll come over.”

“Excellent. See you soon, then, Bates. Good luck with the unpacking.”

John glanced around dismally at all of the cardboard boxes, the categories that his entire life had been packed into. It was rather depressing, really, that his life had become this. All of his achievements, all of his milestones, everything had been condensed down into a few paltry boxes. “Thanks, mate. See you soon.”

Robert waved, and was gone. Resigned, John set about emptying the boxes, decorating his sparse new space with a few more homey touches. It would probably take quite a while before it began to feel like a true home.

After a while, however, his stomach began to growl insistently. It had been a long time since the soggy sandwich he’d scarfed down at dinner. He wouldn’t be able to carry on without some sustenance. The supermarket was a drive across town, so the corner shop would indeed have to be sufficient for tonight. He grabbed his wallet and keys from the side, locked the door behind him, and set off.

He enjoyed the walk to the shop, glad to be away from the chaos of his flat for the time being. He certainly wouldn’t be able to avoid the mess when he returned, and his knee was beginning to ache with the repetitive motion of lifting the boxes onto the sides for unpacking, but it was nice to be carefree for the moment. He picked up a basket when he arrived and strolled around the tiny aisles scrutinising the goods. Figuring that he’d do a good shop at the supermarket tomorrow, he settled on the essentials: bread, milk, butter, cheese, ham, eggs. If nothing else, he could make himself an omelette. One step at a time; he didn’t have to channel Jamie Oliver on his first night. He paid for his goods and stepped back outside into the cool evening air.

Transporting the goods home, however, proved to be a trickier feat. Saddled as he was with the cane, it meant that he had to gather all of the carrier bags in his left hand. They were not heavy, but they still left him feeling decidedly lopsided, and he knew that he must look a right sight to anyone peering through their curtains. Poor cripple, they would probably be thinking. Or lazy lout. It was usually fifty-fifty these days.

As much as he hated to admit it, by the time he reached the building’s doors, he was a little breathless. The brisk walk, coupled with the strains of the day, had left him feeling sore, and he paused to gather himself before he pushed on to the final leg of his journey. The lift wasn’t an option; there was a limp ‘Do Not Use’ sign taped to it. He would have to struggle up all the flights of stairs.

He was just worrying whether his knee would let him face it when he heard a voice behind him say, “Need a hand with any of that?”

He turned at once to find a petite young woman walking towards him, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. His first instinct was to stiffen in self-defence, ready to fight yet another battle against someone who wished to pity him, but the sunny smile she sent his way disarmed him. She had a kind, open face, and as ridiculous as it sounded, he had no wish to offend her; he had the distinct impression that showing kindness to strangers was a regular weapon in her arsenal.

And, though he hated himself for even thinking it, he could not help but notice how beautiful she was. Her features were pale and delicate, with light blue eyes which sparkled like the cerulean sky above. Her blonde hair looked so silky, the sort of hair that he’d be able to run his fingers through for hours without ever getting bored. She was small in stature, but slim, the kind of enviable physique that seemed to come naturally to some women.

With the way that the sun was shining behind her, making her almost glow, she looked like an angel sent from God, the answer to all of his prayers. All she was missing was the damned halo.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he said instead, as politely as possible, hoping to dispel the disconcerting thought. He’d been raised a Catholic by his fierce Irish mother, but it had been a long time since he’d given any kind of thought to religion, disillusioned as he’d become by death and destruction. There were no such things as angels, even if this gorgeous stranger almost fit the bill to a tee.

“Sure,” said the woman. “I’m glad. Don’t mind me. I just know what a pain this place can be.”

“You live here?” said John, surprised.

She laughed. “Of course I do. Though I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“I’m new to the area, moved in today,” he supplied. “John Bates.”

“Anna Smith,” she returned. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

She held out her hand to him to shake. He scrabbled to shove his cane in his left hand so he could return the gesture, but he must have caught it in the plastic carrier bag, because the next thing he knew there was an ominous ripping sound. Time seemed to slow as he lurched to stop the contents of his shopping from falling out the ruined sides.

No such luck.

Anna squealed as the bread bounced and rolled, the cheese hit the ground with a flump, and the milk burst and pulsed in the street like the blood of a dying animal.

And the eggs made a horrible, dull thunking sound, like a head being cracked open.

“Shit!” John yelped, stumbling backwards away from the wreckage. “Shit. There goes my tea.”

“Bugger,” said Anna. “I didn’t intend for that to happen.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I offered you my hand.”

“Because you were being kind. Here.” Now hands free, John thrust his hand towards her again. “You might as well finish the deal.”

Tentatively, she did so. She had a nice grip, confident but not too firm. If John allowed it to, the frustrations of the last few months could come bubbling over, culminating in his irritation that his meagre tea plans had ended up all over the floor. It meant that another trip to the shops was on the cards. But none of this was Anna’s fault, and he was trying his hardest to be a better man. He would not take that out on her, especially when she had been nothing other than friendly.

“I’m so sorry,” she said when she dropped his hand. Her accent was soothing. He liked the way that she elongated her vowels. He had a good ear for accents, having spent a lot of his time travelling with the army, and he knew a native Yorkshire tongue when he heard one. There was something very attractive about it. “What were you planning on making?”

“Please don’t apologise,” he told her, rapidly shaking away that treacherous last thought and bending with a huff to pick up the bread, cheese, and ham to give himself something else to focus on. Those, at least, appeared okay. The ham was the only thing that had escaped unscathed; the bread was a bit squashed and the block of cheese had lost its shape a little, but otherwise they were edible. “It was an accident. I wasn’t planning anything spectacular, just an omelette. I can hardly manage anything else. All the same, I’d better get this bread upstairs before I head back down to the shops.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I bet you’ve got loads of things you need to be getting on with if you’ve just moved in today. Whatever you say, I do feel partially responsible for this, so the least I can do is the neighbourly thing and offer you some eggs.  That way you can at least still make your omelette.”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was start accepting charity.

Anna, however, seemed determined to ignore him. “No, really, I insist. Which flat is yours? I’ll hurry inside really quickly and bring them up to you.”

She jutted her chin defiantly and, as much as he hated it, he knew there was no arguing with her. He knew nothing of her, this stranger, but he could tell that she was a little spitfire. It was a refreshing change to see that fire used for good and not ill, as had always been the case with Vera. It was the thought of his wife that made him nod now.

“Okay,” he said. “Thank you. I’m flat 4D.”

Anna brightened. “You’re right above me! I’m 3D.”

She was almost a neighbour. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Clearing his throat, he gathered his things together and said, “Well, I’d better be heading up.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

She was quicker than he was, and bounded off in front of him like a little fawn. He watched her go for a moment then set off at a much more sedate pace, gritting his teeth against the wrench in his knee—he must have injured himself when he tried to catch his wayward things. By the time he’d got back to his flat and laid his things out on the worktop, Anna was only a few minutes behind, offering him a sheepish smile and half a dozen eggs in a neat little carton, along with some mushrooms and tomatoes.

“I thought you could spruce your omelette up even more,” she explained. “I know it’s not a lot…”

“It’s lovely,” he interrupted her, touched by the gesture. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Welcome to Downton, Mr. Bates.”

She walked away then, and he closed the door behind her, unable to keep the smile from his face.

Perhaps there really were some angels in disguise after all.

-- --

Wilting Flowers, Blooming Hope

Life in Downton was certainly not perfect, but it was a damned sight better than what he’d been used to in the past five years. There were no screaming matches, no drinking until he passed out, no rutting that bordered on the painful. He was free in a way that he had not been for years, and bit by bit he was finding his feet and beginning to enjoy his life again. Most people would not find it the least bit fulfilling, but after being trapped for so long in such a stranglehold, it suited him down to the ground.

All of it was significantly improved by the presence of Anna, who had become a firm and steady friend, almost to the point where she overtook Robert, though if the latter ever found that out then he’d probably throw the biggest most moping fit of all.

At first, they had simply exchanged pleasantries when they saw each other, asking after each other’s welfare, with John never leaving without a smile. But, when they had bumped into each other at one of the Crawley gatherings and realised that their ties ran deeper than they’d initially thought, they’d grown even closer. Mobile numbers exchanged, trips to the cinema taken, days out to the nearby beaches organised, meals cooked in or eaten out, TV shows binged. It was amazing just how quickly he’d felt comfortable with her, when usually it took him a long time to see anyone as more than a passing acquaintance, but there was something almost fey-like about Anna’s abilities to get him to open up to her. He’d told her things that he’d never thought he’d share with anyone else again, and she in turned seemed to trust him with some of the more intimate details in her life. And he had to admit: it was nice to have a friend so close to hand, and a friend who never judged or pushed him to be anything other than he was. Robert was a wonderful man, but he did not have the listening skills that Anna possessed. With every day that passed, it became more and more apparent that he needed her in his life.

Which terrified him. Because the longer he spent with her, the more he began to realise that she was the kind of woman men dreamed about. She was funny, she was kind, she took no shit, and she was gorgeous to boot. His early thought that she’d looked like an angel had only been cemented further with her every action, and with someone like that, it seemed almost inevitable that the soft feelings he had for her would melt into something more.

He’d told himself that he would keep all women at arm’s length, and he’d failed miserably. She made him feel things that he had never, ever felt before.

It was all futile, of course. Anna would never look at him the same way he looked at her, and that was the best thing all round. What could he possibly have to offer her? In the last stages of his divorce he was poorer and more bitter than he had ever been, and well aware of the mistakes he had made which would prevent him from loading his baggage onto someone else’s back. Anna did not deserve that. She deserved someone young, vibrant, free.

Which no doubt she was getting now.

John pushed his food around his plate moodily, trying very hard not to imagine what might be going on at this very moment. When Anna had come to him asking if he would check in on her flat during the weekend because she was going away, he had agreed readily. She was a trainee nurse and worked hard every single day caring for those around her, and it was about time that she got some time away from work to relax and do something for herself.

But that was before he’d realised that she was going on a mad weekend with Mary and Sybil to Magaluf on a hen party. Magaluf, of all places. Or Shagaluf as Mary had candidly told him on the day the minibus had arrived to whisk them all away. The place of drinking until dawn, of no inhibitions, of hooking up with someone new every night.

The thought of it made John’s skin crawl. Anna was, of course, entitled to go out there and do whatever she pleased. She was a young woman in the prime of her life and deserved to have fun. It was on him that he’d started to develop feelings for her and did not want to think about her in bed with some young Spaniard with rippling abs and irresistible brown eyes.

Even though he knew it shouldn’t, it had put him in a bad mood for the rest of the weekend. He had shut himself in his flat and tried to concentrate on the book that he’d been neglecting for the past few weeks, but his mind wandered constantly, wondering who Anna was with now. He would not ask her—it was none of her business—but his heart ached with the thought that right at this very minute some gym buff was running his hands all over her body.

If only drowning his sorrows in the local pub was an option.

In the end, he’d decided to buy a last-minute ticket at nearby Elland Road. At least being in the zone of a football match would work for a little while.

It certainly did help for a short while, but the brooding thoughts returned when it was all over, and there was nothing else to distract him. Sunday passed slowly and Monday even more so, his eyes straying to the clock to count down the hours to her return. She was due back at some point later that evening.

On the way home, he was struck by a stupid, rash urge. He should do something nice for her, something that would hopefully brighten her mood after a long, tiring few days.

He should be careful. It was a reckless move, would likely imply more than he should say. But he could not stop himself.

He stopped off at the supermarket and dithered in front of the flowers. He was disappointed with the range. Where were all the pretty, vibrant bouquets? These ones were on their last legs, heads drooping, leaves on the turn. He stopped one of the workers, a bored looking young man.

“Is this all there is?” he asked desperately. “I was hoping for something…else.”

“Sorry, mate,” the lad replied, not sounding the least bit remorseful. “We’ve had a bit of a problem with the flowers over the last few days. Someone hasn’t been watering them properly. These are the best of a bad bunch. We’re not due another flower order until mid-week.”

“Shouldn’t be selling them, then, if they’re all so bad,” John said grumpily, but in the end he chose the least battered bunch he could find. They were not worth the five pounds that the sticker demanded, but he paid it anyway. He just hoped that Anna wouldn’t be too disappointed with them. He’d have to explain himself to her.

He made his way back across town to the block of flats and dithered for a moment. When he stopped to think about what he was doing, it was ridiculous. What man went out and bought flowers to freshen up a friend’s flat? He could not imagine any of the men he knew doing something like that. What if it aroused Anna’s suspicions? What if it made her uncomfortable? That was the last thing he wanted to do. And yet he could not back out now. It was too late. He had to go through with it, for better or worse.

Taking a deep breath, he fished her key out and let himself into her flat. It was pristinely clean and sunny. He liked coming here; its warmth and brightness felt very much like coming home.

Much like being with Anna always did.

He shook that thought away because it was not constructive. He did not want to pry into her personal things too much when she wasn’t here to know about it, but he located a vase in one of her cupboards and set about arranging the flowers. They looked feeble when he’d done, made even worse by his poor handiwork, but there was nothing he could do to change that now.

He was just debating where he should put them to give them maximum effect—Christ, he needed something to make them look better—when he heard a scuffling out in the corridor. It was probably the young couple that lived across from her. They were always having some kind of argument. How Anna put up with them was a mystery to him. They’d drive him mad. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the flowers. Would putting them on the coffee table be his best bet?

The door behind him creaked open. He whirled around at once, his heart pounding, clutching the vase of flowers as if it was going to ward off whatever was coming…

…And he came face to face with Anna.

She blinked, as if surprised to see him there, but a broad grin soon overtook her features. “John! It’s so good to see you!”

“You too,” he managed, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He wished that he could put the flower down. What a prat he must look, standing here with them like this…

True to form, Anna’s eyes honed in on them at once. “Oh! What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Flowers,” he muttered, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “I just…I thought they might cheer your flat up for your homecoming. I wasn’t expecting you back until later tonight. I wouldn’t have been here otherwise.”

Anna dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about that! I’m glad you’re here! I’ve missed you.”

Those words were hard to process. To think that someone like Anna, someone beautiful and kind and funny might miss him when she’d probably had men falling over themselves to keep her company this weekend, was mind-boggling.

But he didn’t have time to even reiterate her sentiment before she had moved on, as if her words had been nothing more than a casual observance. “And you’re right, we were supposed to get home later, but our flight was changed last-minute. The one we were supposed to catch has been cancelled because of air miles or something, and so the airline managed to squeeze us on to the one before. Not everyone has been as lucky as that. Some have had to stay an extra day. I think Mary was gunning for that, to be honest. She met a bloke whilst she was over there and I don’t think she would have minded seeing him again.”

That did not surprise John in the least; Mary was as fickle with her men as she was with her clothes. “I see. Spare me the details.”

Anna shuddered. “Don’t worry, I will. It’s enough that I’ve had to know about it. I don’t fancy bringing the memories up again. I think I’ve seen more of her this week than I ever wanted to. I will admit, he was nice-looking though. A Turk.”

John’s mood soured further at that. “I see.”

Seemingly oblivious, Anna smirked. “You know what Mary’s like. Nothing but the most gorgeous things for her.”

“As long as she had fun,” he managed.

“Oh, she definitely had that,” said Anna, pulling a face.

“And what about you?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them; they seemed to hang for an eternity between them before Anna shot him that smile, the one that was slightly crooked and altogether too beautiful. “Well, I enjoyed the relaxing in the day, but the rest of it wasn’t much fun.”

“It wasn’t?” John did not dare get his hopes up. He would not be able to take it if she admitted that she had met someone out there. But nor could he stop himself from wanting to know, from needing to know, like the witness unable to look away from the most gruesome of sights. “I would have thought you’d have enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, mostly,” she clarified. “But I must admit that I started to feel my age. The others are so much younger than I am. They spent all of their days sleeping away their hangovers and all of their nights drinking until seven in the morning. I couldn’t keep up with that. I’d had enough after the first day. I don’t think I’ve ever been as sick as I was then. I made sure I took it steady after that.”

John had to smile at that. He could well imagine Anna lying there, groaning, swearing that she was never going to drink ever again. He knew that the Crawley girls could be bad influences, especially carefree Sybil and reckless Mary. It would not be difficult to be led astray by the two of them. And that wasn’t even taking Ethel into consideration, and she could be worse than anyone.

“Well, I can empathise with the raging hangovers,” he offered. “I’ve had more than enough of those in my time, much to my regret.”

“I definitely regretted that one,” she agreed. “And I’ll be honest, I rather turned into the mother of the group after that. It made me feel ancient.”

“You’re twenty-six,” he scoffed. “Hardly ancient.”

“Compared with Mary and Sybil I am. Sybil’s only eighteen, for goodness sake. I felt like I had a duty to keep my eye on her. I think Robert and Cora would have killed me if anything bad had happened to her. Though I must confess that I didn’t do my job all that well…”

“What does that mean?” said John. “Did she do something outrageous? Get a tattoo while drunk or something?”

“Worse,” Anna shuddered. “She met someone.”

“Ah,” said John. It was coming back to sex again, and thinking about his goddaughter in that position was even less appealing than thinking of Mary. Sybil was still a baby, to be kept wrapped in cotton wool and protected from the world.

“Yes,” said Anna miserably. “Though he wasn’t too bad, I suppose. He spent the whole weekend following her around like a little puppy. He did seem to really like her, and he took her phone number with him. I’m not sure it’ll last, though. He’s from Ireland.”

“Oh, that’ll really please Robert if he ever finds out,” snickered John. “You know his feelings towards the Irish. He’s a prejudiced patriot at heart.”

“Tell me about it,” said Anna. “But I’m going to deny all knowledge of it. I’ll say it happened out of my eye line.”

“And what could you have possibly have been doing to keep you so distracted?” said John, then immediately wished he hadn’t; although it had been meant as a joke, it brought the image of Anna wrapped around some tanned athlete to his mind.

Anna rolled her eyes at him. “Fishing for details doesn’t suit you, you know.”

“I wasn’t—” he began, blushing like a damned schoolboy all over again.

Anna’s mouth curled upwards in a teasing smile. “If you say so, Mr. Bates. Now, give me those flowers. I think I ought to put them pride of place.”

“They’re not very nice,” he said tentatively as he handed them over dutifully. “I’m sorry. I wanted to give you nicer ones than that.”

“Don’t apologise,” she said. “They’re lovely. It’s the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me, buying me flowers just to cheer the place up.”

“I doubt that very much,” he said. She was the kind of woman who would inspire anyone to make grand gestures. Surely she was teasing him about his weak, wilting flowers, so very pathetic in the light of all she really deserved.

A reflection on him, perhaps.

But Anna shook her head. “No, I mean it.” She brought them to her nose and inhaled deeply. “See? They still smell heavenly. I’ll give them some water and I’m sure they’ll bloom beautifully. Some things just need some time and attention, Mr. Bates. You shouldn’t give up on something just because it looks a bit battered on the outside.”

John cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “Yes, well. I’m glad you got home safely. But I ought to get going. I’ve still got some things to sort out of myself.”

“Of course,” said Anna, stepping aside. “We’ll catch up soon?”

“Yes,” said John. He debated bending in to kiss her cheek—Christ, he’d not seen her in a few days and he’d missed her so much—but he resisted the urge. Limping past her, he made it to the door and wrenched it open a little more roughly than intended.

“John.”

He’d already stepped over the threshold; her voice made him turn.

“Yes?” he said, frowning. “What is it, Anna?”

She stared him down for a moment, before tilting her head to the side. “I didn’t meet anyone out there, you know. I’m very, very happy with the way things are at the moment.”

He did not know what to say in answer to that, but it sent him back up to his flat with an extra spring in his step.

Perhaps…perhaps, as insane as it sounded, something could bloom after all.

-- --

Burned Toast, Raw Emotion

John woke early on Saturday, to the low morning light and the chirping of the birds. For a moment he simply lay there, exulting in the nothingness, before pushing the sheets away. It was time he got up and did something. What, he wasn’t quite sure. But he was meeting Anna later for a coffee, and as much as he was looking forward to seeing her, he had to take some time out to reconcile the war in his heart with the future that was now sure to be in front of him.

Anna had been on a date last night.

No doubt she would fill him in on the details today, and he had to practice looking pleased for her when inside his heart was breaking. He’d had opportunities to do something about the vortex of feelings that swirled around inside him, but he’d been too cowardly to face his fears, and now all opportunity had passed him by. This was different to the holiday in Magaluf; he’d spotted them leaving through the window, and the man that Anna had been with was nothing like those immature prats who had swarmed her abroad.  Whoever this guy was, he was clearly well-groomed, in a sharp suit and a crisp white shirt. He obviously knew what money was, and would be able to treat her like a princess. They hadn’t been holding hands when they’d gone out but they might have been when they came back; he hadn’t gone to look, but he’d heard their voices through the wide-open window after midnight, and it had sounded as if they’d had a good time.

He swore to himself and scrubbed a hand down his face. It was time to accept the facts of life, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

He shaved off his overnight shadow and showered, then headed to the bedroom to pull on his customary jeans and shirt. It promised to be another scorching day outside—Britain was in the throes of its first heatwave in years, and it was horrible—then decided that the best way of getting rid of some of this pent-up frustration would be to go for a morning walk. The experts always said that exercise was good for that kind of thing, didn’t they? Well, there was no better time to try it.

As he was swiping his keys up from the coffee table, however, he heard it below his feet. A bang and a shriek. Christ, that hadn’t sounded good. Had Anna hurt herself? Heart hammering, he snatched the keys up, locked the door quickly behind him—it took him three attempts to get the key into the lock—and hurried for the stairs as quickly as his knee would allow. He’d take a detour on the way down, just to make sure that she was okay. He’d never be able to go out now without checking that she was fine, and he’d never forgive himself if she’d hurt herself and he’d not gone to see if she was all right.

And what if her bloke is there? a sly voice in the back of his head said. What if she asked him to stay for the night?

He shook the thought away, taking a shuddering breath even as the thought made him feel sick to the stomach. If that was indeed the case, well, he’d have to face it like an adult and get on with it. There was nothing he could do to prevent the tide, and he could not take out his bitterness on Anna, not when she was the person who meant most to him in the whole world. He would simply have to deal with it. She’d never been meant for him, anyway.

He drew up short when he reached her door, taking a second to compose himself before raising his fist and rapping his knuckles against the wood.

“Anna?” he called. “Anna, are you all right?”

He could hear shuffling behind the barrier. “I’m fine.”

“Can you open up? I’d like to see for myself. I won’t keep you long. I’m just heading out.”

There was more rustling, then the door creaked open.

His breath caught in his throat.

He’d never seen her like this before, and the sight of her in her natural environment simply took his breath away. This was not the carefully composed, sunny Anna he was used to seeing. The Anna before him was a little puffy-eyed from not having enough sleep, her hair was a tangled mess, there was no makeup in sight, and she was wearing a baggy t-shirt and oversized shorts that had slipped over her hips.

She was gorgeous.

“’M all right,” she mumbled, not quite meeting his eye. “I dropped something on my foot.”

With a lurch, he realised that her feet were bare. As petite as the rest of her, the intimacy of the sight made him flush all over. What a stupid thing to touch his heart. And yet he couldn’t stop it. There was indeed a darkening patch there, which suggested that it would bruise.

“What did you drop?” he asked.

“That bloody paperweight Mary bought me. I was trying to get my papers out from under it and it slipped off and hit me. Came bloody keen as well.”

“Ice it or something,” he advised.

“Don’t have any in, do I? Stupid really, given what this weather’s like.”

“I could pick some up for you on my way back round,” he offered. “I can detour to the corner shop.”

For the first time all morning, her eyes met his, peeking up at him shyly. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’d do anything for you, you know.”

The words lingered between them, and he cursed at their implication. He cleared his throat, shuffling his feet.

“Well, thank you,” Anna said softly. “That would be most kind. Do you want to come in a moment?”

“I’d better not,” he said, checking his watch. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Anna furrowed her brows. “Since when have I ever said that you’re intruding?”

He shrugged, careful to keep his gaze well away from her. “You might have company for all I know.”

From the look on Anna’s face, he knew that she’d cottoned on to what he was inferring. She coloured delicately, but shook her head. “There’s no one else here, John. Just me.”

The admission lightened some of the load on his shoulders,, but he did not change his stance. “Still, the longer we put off icing that, the worse it’ll be.”

“Well, perhaps you can stay for a cup of tea afterwards?”

“I’d like that,” John admitted; he could not lie. “I won’t be too long, perhaps half an hour or so. In the meantime—” He broke off, sniffing the air. “Hang on, do you smell burning?”

“Burning?” said Anna, puzzled, taking a deep drag of air herself. Her eyes widened. “Shit! The toast!”

With that, she scarpered back into the room, leaving John blinking after her. Deciding that he’d rather not be lingering on her doorstep like an uncertain teenager, he followed her inside. He could hear her banging about in the kitchen, and he followed the sounds there. The toast under the grill was almost on fire, smoke coming off it in an alarming manner, and Anna was frantically searching through her draws for something to get it out with. If they left it much longer they might have a fire on their hands, so John gritted his teeth, grabbed hold of the nearby tea towel, and wrapped it as best he could around the grill pan. He managed to hook it out and Anna dodged out of the way so he could fling it in the sink. It sat there smouldering dangerously, the acrid smell almost making him gag. Anna ducked under him and scrabbled to get the window open, flinging it as wide as she could.

“I had you down as a better cook than that,” he managed, hoping to lighten the mood.

Anna glared at him, but it was playful. “I’ll have you know that I am. I blame you for this.”

“Me? What have I done?”

“Distracting me with your gallant behaviour. I would have had perfectly nice toast if you hadn’t come sweeping in like a knight in shining armour.”

“Well, excuse me for caring about you.”

These slips of the tongue, weighted with so much, would be the death of him, he knew. Anna looked at him steadily and he turned away on the pretence of checking on the charred thing in the sink.

“How about I bring some kind of pastry from the coffee shop on the way back?” he said. “Would that make it up to you?”

“It might,” she said. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Go and sit down,” he said. “I’ll make you a cup of tea to drink while I’m gone, and I’ll just pop out for you.”

“What would I do without you?” she murmured, hobbling towards the tiny sitting room. John waited until she was gone, taking the time to gather himself, before switching on the kettle to boil. He listened to the sounds of Anna getting comfortable on her couch, and banged about making her the perfect cup of tea. That, at least, was one thing he was guaranteed to get right. He could make a mean cup of tea.

Once it was done, coupled with a few biscuits to satiate Anna’s sweet tooth, he limped back into the room. Anna had her foot elevated on the coffee table, and he kept his eyes on her face as he handed her the cup. “Here you are, milady. Now sit tight.”

He’d half-turned away when her soft voice stopped him. “John.”

“Yes?” he said.

“Wait a minute. Lean down a little.”

Confused, John watched as Anna placed the mug on the coffee table. “What?”

She huffed. “I’m not in the best of states to come to you right now, so I want you to come to me.”

“Why?”

She huffed, a definite edge to her voice now. “If you keep questioning me, I’ll lose my nerve.”

“Lose your nerve to do what?”

She huffed again, almost grinding her teeth in frustration now, and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. John barely had time to register alarm that she would probably be able to see his hairy belly underneath before she tugged him towards her with surprising strength. He flailed about, narrowly missing hitting Anna with his cane as he dropped it so he could put a steadying hand against the back of the sofa just above Anna’s head.

“What the hell—” he yelped, heart beating far too fast in his chest, but Anna’s spare hand snaked between them, yanked the collar of his shit still further down towards her, and angled her head up to his.

Time stopped.

Anna was kissing him.

Anna was kissing him.

His brain was frozen, as if he’d plummeted into icy depths and could not make himself function again. It was the one overwhelming thought in his mind as Anna’s mouth moved softly over his, that Anna, his best friend, the woman he had been longing to kiss for so goddamned long, was actually doing this.

Before he could even stop to enjoy it, however, she pulled away from him. With a jolt, he realised that she was scowling. Christ, that was all he needed, for her to regret it as soon as it had happened. He had not been the instigator, thank God, but how could he laugh it off when inside his heart was already beginning to crack…?

“Bleedn’ hell, John,” she said.

“What?” he said, his mouth feeling thick. He could still feel the weight of her mouth on his, like a phantom.

“I’m putting myself out here! The very least you could do is give me a sign!”

“What?” he repeated. Her eyes flashed, and he had a nasty feeling that he was sailing perilously close to the wind with his inability to form any other words.

But how could he? Words had fled the moment that Anna’s mouth had touched his, so soft and warm. He had dreamt about that moment over and over, had ached for it so desperately, and it had happened like that, completely out of the blue, robbing him of all intelligence. How was he supposed to articulate the things that were going around in his head, his question of what the hell was going on, of what this meant for them?

“Give me something!” Anna said, and there was a definite edge to her voice now. If he didn’t answer her, he had a feeling that he would be facing down her wrath. He had never seen Anna lose her temper—she was so sweet-tempered and measured at all times, a stark contrast to Mary’s wild changes in mood—but even the most placid person would reach breaking point at some time. Apparently this was Anna’s.

“I—just—what?” he managed, then, realising that he had said the dreaded ‘W’ word again, hastened to add on, “Did that just happen?”

“Yes,” she ground out. “Yes, John. That just happened. I just kissed you.”

“Wow,” he said. “Wow.”

“God, you’re terrible at this,” she snapped. “I still don’t have a clue whether I’ve just screwed everything up for us or not.”

John blinked at her, brain sluggishly beginning to work again. “Oh, no. No, you haven’t messed anything up.”

“But are you just saying that because you’re such a gentleman, or do you actually mean it?”

He thought back on all those days of longing, all those nights of aching for her and torturing himself on how much he wanted to confess how he felt. He thought on his determination to let her go and live the life she deserved with a man that he could never be.

The right thing to do for her would be to let her down gently, to tell her that he loved her as a friend but they could never be more than that. It would kill him inside, but it would be wrong to tie her down. If one of them had to sacrifice happiness it should be him, to atone for all of the sins in his past.

But the words got stuck in his throat, like cement, and he could not force them out. The plain truth of the matter was that he wanted this woman, and he didn’t think that he’d ever recover if he watched her get on with her life with someone else. Hadn’t the date yesterday proven that to him? This would be his last chance, of that he had no doubt. If he did not seize it now, he would never get another.

He bent his head down and caught her lips again.

Anna made a muffled sound of surprise against him, but her arms wound eagerly around his shoulders and she kissed him back in earnest, her mouth opening up beneath his with such enthusiasm that it made him shudder. She tasted of tea, and he pushed closer, desperate to have more of her. He was walking through an oasis after years of being denied; he couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed someone, and the simple pleasure of it was crashing over him now, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The movement of her mouth was sending pleasure arrowing straight down to the pit of his stomach, and he cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, angling her head just slightly so he could meet her tongue. Electricity exploded down his spine, and when Anna ran her hands down his body to pull him even closer, he broke the kiss, burying his head into her shoulder and taking deep breaths, trying to control himself. He resisted her attempts to bring him closer, hyper-aware that if his body touched hers he would embarrass himself by letting her know just how much he wanted her. She seemed to understand his desire to pull away this time; her hands smoothed down his back reassuringly, and she pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, nestling her nose there. For long moments, neither of them said a thing.

“I think that answers my question,” Anna said at last, then started to giggle. He couldn’t help himself, laughing too; it seemed the best way to release the disbelieving, relieved tension in his body. Christ, he was trembling. He’d never been like this in his whole life.

“So I take it you won’t be seeing your date again?” he asked.

She shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “No. He was nice enough, but…”

“But?”

“He wasn’t you,” she said simply. “Mary insisted that I go, but I wasn’t quite ready to give up on you.”

“Mary knows?” he said, not quite sure how he felt about that. He tried to remember if she had ever dropped any obvious hints that he hadn’t picked up on at the time, too busy wallowing in self-pity.

“No,” said Anna. “No, I didn’t tell her. I didn’t want her to make things uncomfortable for you if you didn’t feel the same way. I know how awkward she can be about those kinds of things sometimes. But I’ve been single for a long time now, and I suppose she decided that it was time I got back in the saddle. I didn’t really know how to tell her that I wasn’t interested without having to confess that I had my eye on someone, so I went along with it. He wasn’t a complete arsehole, which I ought to be grateful for. Mary does like to pick them.”

John knew that from experience; Mary had dated some frights in her time, including that awful Tony Foyle, who had stalked her for a few months after she had broken up with him.

He could well imagine that Anna’s type of bloke was a long way from Mary’s, and the idea of the younger woman match-making for her was laughable in its own way. Still, the knowledge that Anna hadn’t had the best time in the world simply because the bloke hadn’t been him cheered him no end.

“And you’re sure that you’re making the right choice?” he ventured.

“Yes,” was the instant response. “I want you, not him. I’m not going to pretend that he wasn’t nice. He was. But he didn’t get my heart racing, and he didn’t give me butterflies.”

“I give you butterflies?” he asked, nonplussed. It was a thought that he couldn’t get his head around; what on earth about him could make Anna feel that way? He had much more flab than muscle, and at fifteen years her senior he would hardly be the sort of person that most women in their mid-twenties found attractive.

“You always have,” she said vaguely. “I thought I’d been pretty obvious on that score, John.”

“I’ve never been much good at reading women,” he admitted. The only woman he’d read with ease had been Vera, but she’d been so obvious about everything that only an idiot would have missed the signs; she’d set out to snare him with her sexuality, ad young and stupid as he’d been, she’d succeeded. In the years that had followed, it had been impossible to miss her venom and indifference towards him. After the injury, that had only got worse, and there had been too much poison for their relationship to possibly survive.

“I’ll say,” said Anna, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, no wonder I’ve never been one for dating. It’s utterly exhausting.”

“But you’re willing to give it a go now?” he said hopefully. Perhaps foolishly. There was no such thing as plain sailing in his life, and he doubted he would be lucky with this.

She tilted her head just so. “Yes. Though I’m going to have to let Lee know, which I expect is going to be a horrendously uncomfortable conversation. I at least owe him that after everything.”

“‘After everything’?”

“Well, you know. He did take me out to dinner and walk me home like a true gentleman.”

“And kissed you on the doorstep?” said John. His heart lurched horribly in his chest at the thought of this bloke with his hands all over Anna’s body, perhaps holding her in the places he himself had been holding her only minutes before.

Anna smirked at him. “Jealous, are we?”

“No,” he lied, pulling away completely. “You have the right to kiss whoever you want to.”

“How kind of you to say.” She kept the tension going between them for a few more seconds before shaking her head. “Honestly, men are ridiculous, pouting over every tiny thing.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Yes, you are.” She reached up and ran her index finger over his lips. He promptly relaxed his mouth, scowling at her. “Don’t look so worried, of course I didn’t kiss him. I think he wanted me to, but he was a perfect gentleman about it all. And I’ve already told you: it’s you I want. I’m not going to go around kissing anyone else when as far as I’m concerned you’re the only one I want to kiss.”

Her words placated him, and he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry if I was a bit of an arse. It’s just…I’m not used to the idea that you might have feelings for me. It feels too good to be true.”

“Well, believe,” she said softly. “I’d never lie to you, John. You’re my best friend, and I’d never want to hurt you.”

“I know,” he reassured her. “I feel the same way. It’s just…surreal.” He couldn’t stop his grin from spreading. “Christ, I can’t believe you kissed me.”

She ducked her head, suddenly shy. “Neither can I. It was…rather forward of me. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.”

“I’m glad it did. I liked it. And if we’re being honest, I don’t think I would have had the courage to make the first move.”

“Then I’m glad I did. It felt right. You were being so caring, I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d tried.”

“It did feel right,” he agreed softly. So right. More than he could ever put into words. As clichéd and pathetic as it sounded, it felt like coming home, as if he’d found the missing part of his soul after so many years of searching. He’d had feelings for people before, and he was sure that Anna had too, but there was something about the way he felt for Anna that transcended everything he’d ever felt. The idea of soulmates was corny…but on some level he truly believed that that was what Anna was to him. He could have this was someone else and no doubt be comfortable with it…but there would always be the sense that something was missing, just some tiny piece, like the final one in a jigsaw that prevented the full, glorious picture.

Anna shifted with a wince, and he suddenly remembered the purpose of this mission before he had been distracted by the delights of Anna’s mouth.

“Ice,” he said. “I was going to get you ice.”

“You needn’t bother,” she said. “I can manage. You can stay here and keep me company.”

A tempting as the prospect was, he was determined to do this properly. He would not jump into bed with her at the first invitation, no matter how agreeable that sounded to his body, which had been without the touch of a woman for so long. No, he did not want her to think that that was all he wanted her for when her mind, her cheerfulness, her wit, all was so much more appealing to him. “I’m a man of my word. When I say I’m going to get you ice and something for breakfast, that’s what I’m going to do. But then I’ll come back and perhaps we can sit and watch a movie?” A movie would be safe. It would give them the opportunity to cuddle up with each other, but he was determined that it would go no further than that. Escaping for a little while would give him time to regroup and strengthen his resolve. He’d had to have nerves of steel during the war, and he could rediscover them now.

Anna looked slightly disappointed, but she nodded her head. “Sounds good. See you soon.”

He bent his head one more time and kissed her, pulling away before she could deepen it too much. Taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her skin, he pecked at her forehead, gathered his cane from where it had fallen, and stumped towards the door. In the doorway he turned to look at her one more time, mussed and beautiful as she was, and felt a surge of deep, deep affection for her. It was too soon to tell her he loved her, but the feeling was growing nevertheless, sweeping him away on a riptide.

What a lucky, lucky man he was.

-- --          

Sour Milk, Sweet Victory

The text came when he was halfway through the day. There was nothing to suggest that there was anything inherently wrong, but it gave John a reason to pause nevertheless.

If you can get away ASAP, I think you should. It’s important. x

It was precise and to the point, and very unlike Anna. Emojis were the bane of his life, but she loved them; she wrote him essays by text message, to let him know that she was thinking about him, that she couldn’t wait to see him.  The kiss was reassuring, but there was something ominous about it, and it put him on edge. Had something happened? Was she ill?

Christ, had she fallen pregnant?

That would certainly be a speedbump in the road. It wasn’t as if he might not want children with Anna in the future—she would make a wonderful mother and he was certain that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life without her—but these were still early days, and if he was truly honest with himself, he had not planned children into his relationship until further down the line. Realistically, there was no question about what they would do in his mind, but it was something that would need a great deal of consideration—after all, it was Anna’s body, not his.

He was probably getting ahead of himself. There was probably nothing to worry about. Still, he needed to put his mind at rest.

Thankfully, begging off work early was not difficult. Robert was quick to point out that he always worked more hours than he needed to, and he was happy to let him take the afternoon off. Grateful, John shot off a text. I’ll be there in ten minutes.

Anna did not respond on the way home, and he parked his car and practically ran inside, damn his leg. He hammered on Anna’s door for a full minute before realising that she might be up at his flat. They’d exchanged keys a mere two weeks ago for convenience, and he used his now to quickly check that she wasn’t anywhere in the flat before heading up towards his own. His key scraped in the lock as he pushed open his own door.

He stopped short, feeling as if the bottom had just dropped out of his world.

“Hello, Johnny,” said Vera. She was standing in the little kitchenette, leaning against the worktop. “You’re out of milk, I’m sorry to say. It’s gone off. Which is a shame, as I rather fancied a cup of tea. Of course, I wouldn’t say no to a nip of something stronger if you have it. I can usually rely on you to have that.”

The absurdity of the statement, of her standing right there in his flat when he had not seen her since she had signed her name on the dotted line in the solicitor’s office was simply overwhelming. Surreal. She was talking about sour milk as if he’d just gone back in time five years.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, spat with more vehemence than he wanted to show her.

Vera folded her arms across her chest, her icy blue eyes flashing with gleeful malice. “That’s not a very nice way to greet your wife, Johnny.”

“Ex-wife,” he spat back at her.

“Ah, of course, you wouldn’t let that little detail slip me by, would you? It’s no surprise you’d want to remind me of that fact, not when your pretty little piece is here. Didn’t take you long to get your end away, did it? There’s no wonder the milk’s gone sour. I bet you’re never here to use it.”

It was then that John realised that Anna was indeed there too, standing quietly behind the sofa, analysing the scene in front of her. He hardly dared look at her, terrified that he would see regret and judgement in her gaze. He could only imagine how this scene must have played out. Vera had never been known for her grace, spouted vitriol on a regular basis. If Anna had already been here when she had arrived—and she must have been, given the text, given her presence here now—then he could only imagine the things that she might have said. It did not bear thinking about.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated, closing the door behind him.

“I came to see how you are.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t be like that, Johnny. I won’t stand to be talked to like that.” Vera turned towards Anna, a snake-like smile curling her mouth. “Do you know that he’s got a horrible temper, dearie? Snaps at the slightest thing and says the most awful things. I feared for my life sometimes.”

“Like hell you did.”

“See? I feel sorry for you, putting up with someone like him. You must be desperate.”

Anna rolled her shoulders back, jutting her chin defiantly. “On the contrary, I count myself fortunate.”

“And that’s the most unfortunate thing I’ve ever heard. Your standards must be exceedingly low if you consider yourself fortunate to be with a broken down old drunk. Has he told you about that, eh? That he gets so pissed that he shouts and breaks things and sometimes wants to fuck you even though he says that he hates you?”

John felt himself going cold all over, bile rising in his throat. He could not bring himself to look in Anna’s direction, terrified of what he might see in her face. Revulsion. Horror. Belief in Vera’s words.

“John doesn’t drink,” Anna said calmly.

Vera’s face twisted in an ugly sneer. “How naïve you are.”

“He hasn’t touched a drop in five years. Since splitting from you, in fact.”

“He told you this, did he? And you believed him. What a silly little girl you are.”

Anna shrugged. “I believe him because he’s telling the truth.”

“And has he told you about all of the other ugly skeletons in his closet? Has he told you about prison?” Vera’s eyes gleamed with triumph; clearly she believed that she was going to shake the very foundations of their fledgling relationship.

“Of course he has,” said Anna without missing a beat.

“Really?” said Vera scathingly.

John stepped forward. “Really. People have the right to know the worst of me.”

“It just helped me to see the best of him,” said Anna. “He’s made mistakes in his past, but he’s not the same man anymore.”

“Mistakes!” cackled Vera. “You call having a criminal record a mistake? Men like my husband never change.”

“Ex-husband,” said Anna, sounding bored. “Look, is this all you’ve come to do? Try to intimidate me out of being with John? Because it’s not going to work and I’ve got better things to be doing with my time than listening to a jealous ex.”

“Jealous? Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’m not. That’s what you sound like. A bitter old woman who can’t stand to see anyone else happy.”

“Batesy doesn’t know how to make anyone else happy.”

“He makes me happy,” said Anna defiantly. “He makes me very happy. So if you’ve come here hell-bent on revenge, I’m going to have to burst your bubble. I know that he struggled with alcoholism. I know that you were poorly matched. I know that he’s had a suspended prison sentence.  Nothing you’ve come to say will shock me, so let me save us both some time.”

“You’re an arrogant little bitch, aren’t you?” said Vera.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” John snarled, taking a step forward, but Anna held up her hand.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, John,” she said.

“But you’re quite happy to fight his,” sneered Vera.

“Because he’s too much of a gentleman to do it himself,” Anna retorted. “He’ll fight with honour, but I can fight as dirty as the rest of them. So go on, I dare you. I can take you down any day of the week.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Are you willing to test it?”

The two women stared each other down. Anna was several inches shorter than Vera was, but she stood tall and unafraid, and in that moment John felt, despite the sickening pounding of his heart, such a warm surge of affection for her. She really was the best of women. No one had ever defended him like this before, and it did not make him feel vulnerable. In fact, he had never felt more powerful. Taking a deep breath, he limped around the room to Anna’s side, positioning himself protectively at her shoulder.

“I think it’s time you left,” he told Vera quietly.

Her eyes flashed. “I don’t think so, Johnny. I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

“Then allow me to make this easy for you,” said Anna, taking a step forward. “If you don’t leave now I will call the police. John owes you nothing. If you continue to harass him then I will personally make sure that you get your just desserts, starting with breaking and entering. I have a friend in the police force, you see, and he’d be very happy to take my case up. A quiet word in the right person’s ear and you’ll be behind bars in no time. I suspect that you wouldn’t like it there.”

“Are you threatening me?” Vera hissed. “Because I can have you tied up just as quickly.”

“I’d like to see you try,” said Anna. “Who would believe you over me? I’d be willing to wager on that outcome. So go on, try me.”

Vera glared at them with a stare icy enough to freeze before turning on her heel and storming to the door. In the threshold she turned.

“This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me,” she said.

“Yes,” said Anna, “it is.” She marched across the room. “Darken this doorstep again and you’ll be sorry you ever did.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No,” said Anna. “It’s a promise.” With that, she slammed the door in Vera’s face.

Ringing silence followed. Every muscle in John’s body was tensed, as if ready for battle. He strained to hear Vera’s footsteps fading away.

“That won’t be the end of it,” he said softly.

Anna was breathing hard. “I beg to differ. I don’t think she’s stupid enough to test it.”

She wasn’t stupid, no, but she was cunning, and would not take kindly to being made a fool of in front of him. Still, John pushed his disquiet away for the time being. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Don’t be. I always knew that she was a bitch, but I never realised just how much until just now.”

“I can’t imagine it was a cosy atmosphere.”

She laughed. “Oh, it wasn’t. I think I took her by surprise, actually. She was probably expecting to see you coming through the door and instead she got me. For a split-second I think she thought she’d broken into the wrong flat before she put two and two together. It was an interesting fifteen minutes to say the least.”

“I’d understand if this changed things between us.”

“Don’t be silly! I meant what I said, John Bates. You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, but you’d let her walk all over you. I won’t let that happen. And I certainly won’t let her ruin what we have. It’s good, isn’t it?”

He looked at her. Yes, it was good. Better than good. He’d never known relationships could be like this. Such bliss.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it’s good.”

“There we are, then,” Anna said simply. “That’s all there is to it. She’s not going to win. I won’t let her.”

“I just can’t believe meeting her hasn’t put you off me.”

“I know you have a past, John. So does everyone else. I meant what I said. I know you’re not the same man as before, and I like you just as you are. She was right about one thing, though.”

“Oh?” said John, his heart twisting.

Anna gave him a little smile. “Your milk has gone off. So how about we do what we’ve done all week and go down to mine?”

She came over to his side and wrapped her arms around him. John squeezed her back tightly, stooping to rest his chin against the crown of her head. He couldn’t share her certainty that Vera was gone for good, but there was one thing that he had total confidence in:

No matter what, Anna would be right there, fighting tooth and nail for what they could build together.

And he’d never been happier.

-- --

Melted Chocolate, Gooey Hearts

These days, Robert frequently liked to tell him that he had become one of those exceedingly dull people whose personalities all but disappeared when they met someone they liked. John rolled his eyes in return, though he suspected that there was some truth in his friend’s words, and more than a little fear that things were changing. As happy as Robert was for him, their friendship was entering unchartered waters; in all of the years that they had known each other—over two decades now—Robert had never known him to be in a happy, stable relationship. It was bound to be weird for him. Hell, it was weird for John himself.

But as incomprehensible as it all sounded, things were going better than ever with Anna. She was endlessly patient with him as he navigated through feelings and situations he had never known before; after their first real fight, he had been sure that it was all over, that she would scream that she never wanted to see him again. That was something that Vera would have done, screeching abuse at him about everything from his worthless disability to his inadequacy in the bedroom, before she would have stormed back into his life as if she knew that no one else in the world had a right to be there but her.

His tongue, often sharpened by the drink and by Vera’s goading, had not completely forgotten how to injure, but he had been racked by a crippling guilt he had never known before as soon as he’d uttered harsh words to Anna. She had not flinched, but he had sensed the hardening of her mouth, and her request for him to leave had not been an unreasonable one. He’d gone at once, too cowardly to do any different, and had spent the following day with his phone in his sweaty palm, trying to work up the courage to speak to her, to grovel at her feet like she deserved. In the end, inevitably, Anna had come to him, still stony and barbed, but at least willing to work on his awful imperfections. He had not been able to thank her enough for giving him the second chance he did not merit, and had promised himself that no matter what it took he would master that stupid Irish temper of his, because Anna had already sacrificed so much for him, and he would not pay her back more poorly than he already was.

They’d worked through it, like adults should, and he marvelled at the fact that he was able to have a mature, normal relationship with a woman that did not involve constantly breaking-and-making up. Anna stoked his desire to be a better man, and if there was anyone he was determined to succeed for, it was for her.

So they had gone from strength to strength, and now John finally felt in a place of peace.

On their six month anniversary, he splashed down the high street. The warm August rain was a welcome change to the unbearably hot weather they’d been enduring recently, and he tilted his head up to it, enjoying the feel of it against his face. It brought back decent memories of his time in the army, when any kind of relief from the searing weather abroad had been seized with both hands, and his comrades had whooped and run out into it, relishing the novelty of being cool once more. Anna too enjoyed the rain, and he would never forget the first moment that he’d seen her out in it, drenched to the bone in a summer monsoon, arms wide as if welcoming it; he’d joined her there, kissing her fiercely as if they were in some corny movie, her mouth warm and wet, rivulets running down her skin. It was another memory he’d treasure forever.

He was just splashing past the bright lights of the big name department store when he saw it. The local chocolatier’s shop window was cosy and inviting, filled with all manner of delectable treats, and John was drawn to them at once. He pressed his palm against the cool glass, peering closer at the display.

They’d already exchanged presents that morning, of course. He’d bought her a delicate piece of jewellery, his anxiety rising all the time as he tried to decide what was a suitable gift for a first, small anniversary; in return she had surprised him with a thoughtful weekend away to Harrogate, a quaint little Yorkshire town he had always been interested in visiting.

But Anna loved chocolate, and he had many happy memories of her sneaking the last one, or choosing the sweetest, chocolatiest thing on the menu to satisfy her cravings. Chocolates were a simple gift, but he had already gone for the overt declaration, and he knew that she would appreciate this small gesture just as much as any other. Shaking his head like a dog to dispel some of the excess water, he shuffled inside the shop.

There were so many things that he was spoiled for choice. In the end he plumped for the personal box, which meant that he could fill it with whatever chocolate he wanted. He chose all of Anna’s favourites, from strawberry-centred to caramel, and the shop worker kindly wrapped it up in a neat bow, much better than anything he could have done. Satisfied, he continued with his journey home.

Once there he laid the box down on the table and headed for the shower. It would be nice to scrub the grime from the day away, and he wanted to look his best for Anna. They were not going out to dine tonight—they had reservations for the weekend—but he still wanted to make the best impression he could.

By the time he got out of the shower, however, it was to a missed call on his phone from Anna. Frowning, he swiped it open. What could be wrong? He hoped she was okay. He hadn’t expected to hear from her before he met up with her. He hit the speed dial that she’d inputted for him and thrust the phone against his ear, waiting for her to answer.

She did so almost immediately.

“Hi,” she said, sounding tired.

“Hello, my darling. I’m sorry I missed your call. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she sighed, but she didn’t quite sound it. “Just…I’m sorry, John.”

“Sorry? For what?”

Now her voice trembled slightly. “I think I have to cancel tonight.”

His stomach plummeted in disappointment, but he kept his voice even. “Oh, okay.”

“I hate myself for having to do it.”

“Can I…can I ask why?”

“Oh! Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry, my head’s all over the place at the minute.”

It was all the work she was doing at the moment. When she wasn’t working out in the real world she was coming home to pore over her assignments, determined to get the best grades and achieve her dream of helping others as a career. John was so proud of her, but it was troubling too—he was trying to find that fine line of supporting her with every fibre of his being and also stepping in to make her take a break when he thought that she was doing far too much. He did not want her to think that he was trying to control her life in any way—Christ, that was the last thing he wanted to do—but at the same time he wanted to let her know that he was concerned about her, that he cared about her.

That he loved her.

The words had not yet passed his lips, but that did not make his feelings any less true.

“I’ve got to finish my assignment.” Anna’s voice pulled him back to the present, and he forced himself to focus on her words. “I thought I was done but…well, I think I must have pressed the wrong button last night and it hasn’t saved it and I didn’t notice it because I didn’t go to bed until gone one, so I’m going to have to do the final bit all over again and it’s due on Friday so I have to get it done—”

“Say no more,” he interrupted her. “I get it. We didn’t have any plans.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t!”

“I wish things could be different,” she said fretfully. “I just feel like a horrible girlfriend, not wanting to see you.”

“I know you want to see me. And it’s not like it’s a proper anniversary. Hell, it’s not a year’s. It’s fine, Anna, honestly.”

“But…”

The idea occurred to him then. “Well, how about…how about I come down to yours anyway, then? I won’t get in your way. I’ll be like a little ghost in the flat. I’ll bring a book to keep me occupied but I could cook you something so you don’t have to stop what you’re doing. And I promise that I won’t speak a single word to you until you’re done for the evening. How does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful,” said Anna gratefully. “But are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No, of course I don’t. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

The words lingered all over again, like they had the first time he’d spoken them, and he heard the smile in Anna’s voice. “Then please, come on down. I’d love to see you.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said. Feeling happier than he had at the beginning of the conversation, he pulled on his clothes, swiped the chocolates from the table and then, as an afterthought, raided his fridge for some ingredients. He knew what Anna could be like, and when she was in the zone as she had been this week, she often forgot to check to see what she had in stock. He did not want to be confronted with an empty fridge when he arrived and, since meeting Anna, he had become a lot better about making sure that he had actual food to work with and not just microwave meals for one.

Satisfied that he had everything he needed, he set off down the flight of steps for Anna’s place. He keyed himself in. She was sitting at her little desk in the sitting room, but she swivelled around on her chair when he entered, giving him a beaming smile.

“Hey,” she said.

John mimed zipping his mouth. “I’m not here, remember?”

“So I can’t even say hello to you?”

“Not if it’s going to distract you from what you’re doing,” he teased.

She pouted. “So that means I don’t get a kiss?”

“You’ll get a kiss goodnight when I leave. Or you’ll get one as a reward if you finish your paper before then.”

“Is that a challenge, Mr. Bates?”

“It might be. The question is, are you up for it?”

She jutted her chin. “I think I might be.”

“Great. Well, you get on. I’m going to go through to the kitchen and start cooking. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Okay,” she said, turning back to her work. John watched her for a beat longer before moving towards the kitchen. He enjoyed being in here. It was laid out in exactly the same way that his was, but she’d filled her cupboards differently, and each time he opened one expecting to see one thing and finding another he felt like he was getting to know her just that little bit more intimately. It was a nice feeling.

He was certainly no connoisseur, so he stuck to something tried and trusted. His mother had once shown him how to make a mean lasagne, and it had become his signature dish. He chopped potatoes for homemade chips and cleared away his mess whilst his basic creation cooked, determined that Anna wouldn’t have anything to fuss with tonight. When that was done he sat himself down at the table and pulled out his book. The longer he could leave Anna on her own, the better.

Once tea was cooked, he popped his head in on the sitting room.

“Love, it’s ready,” he said.

Anna glanced up, rubbing at her eyes. She was looking sleepy now. “Oh, thank you, John. I’m coming.”

She pushed her chair away and made her way towards him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she passed, and it made her smile brighten. That only made the warm glow in his chest kindle more vibrantly. Following her, he plated up the meal and took it across to her.

“Do you want any wine?” he asked her as he sat himself down.

“Better not,” she said. “It’ll send me straight to sleep and that won’t do me any good. I can have a celebratory glass later.”

“Fair enough.” John chewed a mouthful of food, gathered his courage, and said, “I have something else for you.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I know we’ve already exchanged gifts but it’s only something small.” He pushed his chair away from the table and fetched the chocolates, which he had left on the side. Anna’s eyes widened when she saw the box.

“Oh, John, you didn’t have to!” she cooed, taking them from his hands. “You’re so thoughtful.”

He shrugged. “I wish it was something better, but…”

“It’s perfect,” she told him firmly. “These are my favourites. Thank you so much. These will make the perfect dessert.” She leaned across the table and pressed her mouth to his, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“You’re welcome. Now, how about we eat so you can get back to work?”

“That eager to get rid of me?” she teased.

“No, of course not!” he said. “But the quicker you get done, the quicker we can spend some quality time together.”

She beamed at him, and attacked her food with gusto. When they were done, John insisted that she leave the tidying up to him so that she could concentrate on what mattered. She protested a little but soon disappeared back into the sitting room, taking the chocolates with her. John hummed to himself as he returned the kitchen to its pre-tea state.

Once he was finished, he decided that he couldn’t hide in the kitchen any longer, and took his book though to the sitting room. He had no intention of disturbing Anna, but he reasoned that he wouldn’t be too much of a distraction if he just sat on the sofa quietly whilst she worked.

The book was less than enthralling when compared with Anna .He tried reading a few pages but he kept catching his gaze slipping away from the page and latching on to Anna instead, studying her as she studied her notes. The warm glow in his heart spread further, warming him to the tips of his fingers and toes. She had her feet tucked up beneath her, chewing whimsically at the end of the pen she had in her mouth. She looked unbearably adorable like that, the little frown of concentration creasing her brows.

“What are you staring at?” she murmured without looking up from the page.

“How did you know I was looking at you?” he grinned.

“I can feel the weight of your gaze on me. Besides, I haven’t heard you rustling the pages on your book for ages.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said. “I was just thinking.”

“Hmm?” Anna turned the page of the medical book she was using as a reference, her finger moving lazily over the lines. “What’s that then?”

“I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

He could tell that she hadn’t truly registered what he had said, too preoccupied with what she was reading. “That’s good.”

He stretched, abandoning his book to one side. “I hope it is.”

Anna didn’t immediately respond, bending to write something else on the page. This had not been his plan for the evening. He still did not want to distract her from what she needed to do. She was so close to realising her dream of helping those around her. Qualifying as a nurse would be her greatest achievement, and she was a mere two assignments away from doing just that. He wanted to support her every step of the way, but now that he had given voice to the thoughts that had been clamouring in his head for so long now, it was difficult to box them back up.

He’d been careful to hold himself back, not wanting to get too carried away in what they had, but since she had sent Vera packing so admirably, never swaying away from any of the barbs that had been thrown at her, it had made him fall even harder for her, and no matter what came now, it was time that she knew.

“It is,” she murmured, scrabbling about on her desk for a chocolate without looking and popping it into her mouth. They were melting; he watched as she popped her thumb into her mouth and sucked off the excess chocolate. How beautiful she was.

“Well, that’s good, then. I was half-afraid that my confession of love would go down like a lead balloon.”

“Of course it wouldn’t,” she said absently, then froze halfway through turning the page. Very slowly, she turned to look at him, as if she didn’t quite dare believe what she thought she’d heard. “Wait, what?”

John couldn’t help grinning broadly, folding his arms across his chest. “I said that I’m glad you’re not against hearing that I love you.”

“What?”

“Are you going deaf?” He paused for greater effect, then said with slow deliberation, dragging out the words, “I love you.”

Anna blinked at him a few times, as if that would help her to process the information better. “You…love me?”

“I do.”

“You love me.”

“Yes.”

“Bloody hell,” she said, throwing down her pen; it hit the edge of her desk and bounced away. She didn’t seem to notice, leaping to her feet and sending her chair clattering sideways. “You just said—you love—bloody hell!”

“Are you all right?” he asked her, amused. His glee quickly softened into something soft and all-consuming as she turned those blue eyes on him. They were shimmering with unshed tears, and when she spoke again, her voice was quivering.

“I don’t believe it.”

“Believe,” he told her, echoing her word from all that time ago. “And…and it’s okay? You’re not put off or anything?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “You silly beggar! As if I’d be put off by that! In my whole life, I’ve never been as happy as I am in this moment. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words, John. I love you too.”

Now it was his turn to be momentarily paralysed. “You do?” In his most hopeful imaginings he’d yearned to hear her echo those words back at him, so that they could have the fairy tale ending that they both deserved. But somehow, hearing those words in reality blew away every single visualisation that he’d ever had. He’d never been able to conjure up that level of emotion in her voice, an overwhelming mix of delight, desire, and giddy disbelief.

“I love you too,” she repeated. “I love you so much, John.”

She swept towards him then, and practically launched herself at him. He huffed as her full weight careened into him, instinctively moving to wrap his arms around her. She buried her head against his shoulder, squeezing him tight in return.

“This feels like a dream,” she said, her voice muffled. “Please don’t wake me up.”

He toyed with her hair, cradling the back of her head in his hand. “Don’t worry, I won��t.”

Although things had hopefully changed forever—and for better—between them, life still had to go on. Anna still had her assignment to finish. He still had to play the role of overseer to ensure that she didn’t get too side-tracked.

Anna pulled back enough to press her mouth against his, tasting of the delicious chocolates. As he held her in his arms, John supposed they could delay for just a few more minutes to bask in this perfect golden moment.

-- --

The prompt was:

I JUST MOVED INTO A NEW APARTMENT AND WENT TO BUY GROCERIES, BUT I BOUGHT MORE THAN I COULD CARRY BACK. I’VE STOPPED TO CATCH MY BREATH WHEN I HEAR SOMEONE ASKING IF I NEED HELP AND I LOOK UP AND THE SUN IS LITERALLY MAKING YOU GLOW LIKE A DAMN ANGEL AU

#John Bates #Anna Bates #Anna x Bates #Banna #Downton Abbey #my fanfiction #AnnaxBates #Anna/Bates #Team Bates #OTP: thank God and you

[justjessame]

Diamonds Are A Boy’s Best Friend Chapter 27

I didn’t wait long for the next update from Pop-Pop.  It came hours after he’d sent a midwife to check in on me.  A midwife who looked over my overall health, advised both myself and Selma that my nausea would grow worse with stress, and patted my hand to assure me that women had been giving birth since the dawn of time and I’d be alright.  

Her other rules made little sense, which meant that I had to wonder how realistic the entire ordeal would be.  No reading, she sniffed, seeing my books lined and stacked around my room.  Too much excitement wasn’t good for my condition.  Rest, and a great deal of it, even as I lay reclining on my bed.  No bumpy car rides, no funerals, no sporting events.  Nothing to get my emotions raised.  No reaching over my head, which she said as she took in my petite frame.  She asked if I smoked or drank, but since I’d felt the first gurgling of vomit I hadn’t felt the urge to take up smoking and the scent of alcohol or the memory of it made me gag.  

She left, telling me to watch my weight, to keep a pleasant and quiet mind, and I rolled my eyes at Selma as she stood next to me with a smirk.

“Is she insane?”  I finally asked, having been rendered speechless by the overbearing woman.  “Does she have any idea what family I belong to?”  No stress?  Good luck.

Selma snorted.  “She’s right about at least one thing,”  I glanced up at her.  “Women HAVE been doing this forever, and we survive.”  She helped me to my feet, since I wasn’t completely up to full strength yet.  “I nearly burst out laughing when she told you no reading.”  

I had to smile at that.  Selma had teased me about my appetite for books from the moment we first met.  “Yes, well, I nearly concussed myself when she advised ‘no stress’, as though I have another option.”  

Pop-Pop called soon after.  I was lounging on the sofa, per midwife’s orders, reading one of the books she’d taken such offense to, when Selma handed me the phone.  

“How are you, Lizzie?”  He asked, as I greeted him.  “You listening to Ellen’s advice?”  Ellen, the midwife.  I snorted and heard him chuckle.  “I promised not to add to your stress, sweetheart, but I have some news.”

“Ike?”  A breathless as I could sound when I was saying his name to his face.  “Is he alright?”

“He made bail.”  Meg, I thought.  “That wife of his, she’s got a jealous streak a mile wide.”  Wait, what?  

“I don’t understand, Pop-Pop.”  I didn’t, what did Vera’s jealousy have to do, I went cold.  Did she know?  “She knows,” I breathed.  

“No, Lizzie, no.”  He sighed.  “The sister-in-law?”  I made a noise of knowing who he meant.  “She offered the money, family like, but the wife?  She turned her down flat.”  How did he know?  “That Sid, he’s a good guy.”  Oh, Ike’s lawyer.  “He tells me that the wife, she stands up and makes demands for the money, but when it’s offered by the in-law, she spits at it.”  So who gave it?  “Your father,” No, I prayed, no.  “He tried to get the son to let him pay it.  The kid, he’s stubborn and says no.”  Of course he did, I thought, since this triangle between Lily, Father, and him was a torrid ring of confusion.  “Some bookie, Bel something, he gave the wife the cash.”  Bel?  Wasn’t Bel-shit.  “Then the wife and Ike had their wonderful reunion in full view.”  

“Bel works for Father.”  I offered, pushing aside the thought of how wonderful Vera and Ike had reunited, I offered and heard my grandfather chuckle.  “Any more bad news?”  I settled back against the pillow that Selma had brought me to make the sofa more comfortable.

“He’s free.  And he wants to have a chat with me.”  I nodded, and realized he couldn’t see me, but it didn’t seem to matter because he went on.  “He’s got ideas, Lizzie, plans, I’m told.”  What kind of ideas and plans?  What kind would Ike have to call on Pop-Pop?  “Did you know an Al that worked for Ben?”

“Yes, he-”  I stopped suddenly realizing he’d used past tense.  “Al’s dead?”  I felt a strange clutch of sadness at the knowledge that one of my father’s hired goons was gone.  “How?”

“The story is that Al went after the witness against Ike,”  the woman that Sid had mentioned.  “The whore lived, Al got shot and killed by a hero cop.”  He was scoffing at the idea of it being true.  I shut my eyes, wondering who was next.  “I’m sorry, Lizzie, I-”

“I know,” I swallowed hard.  “It’s just a mess, isn’t it?”  

Another chuckle.  “That it is, honey, that it is.”  

We said goodbye soon after, and as Selma took the phone back, I felt the rush of vomit that I’d been fighting during the call come fighting its way out, and almost didn’t make it to the bathroom.  

The next call came while I was sleeping.  I heard the ringing phone, but rolled over and tried to drift back off.  Selma rushing into the room, turning the light on ruined the attempt.  “Here,” she said, a large smile on her face and her hair a tangled mess.  “Take it.”  

I blinked away the spots that the bright light had coated my vision in, and realized she was handing me the phone.  Groaning, and staying prone from weeks of experience at what sitting up too fast could cause, I held the receiver to my ear.  “Hello?”  I sounded hoarse from sleep, because I’d been sleeping, but the news that my grandfather was giving me woke me fully and I couldn’t stop myself from sitting upright.

“The charges have been dropped, Lizzie.”  I sighed in relief, and nearly squealed as Lily had when she wanted to take me shopping the first time.  “He’s free and clear.”  

“Thank God.”  I sighed, feeling the vertigo from my sudden upright pose had caused, I choked the rising bile down.  “How?”  

He told me that Judi Silver, the witness, had recanted her statement naming Ike as the murderer.  Instead, she offered up Al, dead already and unable to be charged.  I wondered what the truth was, and if I’d ever know?  The money for Ike’s bail would go back to Bel, to my father, and Ike would go back to being the king of his sand castle.  

“The wife,”  I sighed, feeling the burn of tears at the reminder.  “She’s gonna be going on stage dancing.  I hear that it’s gonna be billed as ‘the queen of the Miramar Playa, former queen of the Tropicana’ bullshit.  Can’t seem to book anyone else.”  He chuckled at the thought of Ike’s wife returning to the stage.  And the way he said dancing implied what he thought of that idea.  

I huffed out my own mirthless laugh.  “Ike must be desperate.  He told me-”  I stopped, what Ike had told me kept seeming to contradict itself.  “Have you seen him?”  

“Not yet,” he sighed.  “Lizzie, you can’t expect-”

“I don’t.”  I promised him and myself.  “I don’t expect anything, Pop-Pop.”  And it was almost the truth.  “Just-  I never got to-”  Say goodbye, tell him I’d love him and our baby, that I wanted to kiss him and maybe, just maybe then I’d be able to let go?  I brushed away the tears that I’d finally let fall, and shook it off.  It did no good to wallow.  

“I hear the daughter asks about you.”  Lauren?  Why would she ask after me?  “Seems that she took a liking to you.  She wants to know where you went, when you’ll come back, and why you didn’t say goodbye.”  

Heavily sighing, I thought about how she must feel.  She’d lost her mother at such a young age, but unlike me, she remembered hers.  And I thought about the lunches I shared with her and Vera, the way she watched me and the promise I’d made to take her shopping, but didn’t because I’d seen the flash of hurt that had crossed Vera’s face at how excited she’d seemed at the prospect.  I’d taken her husband carnally, I couldn’t take her stepdaughter’s friendship.  

“I should have-”  I wondered if anything would ever feel right again.  If I’d ever feel like I hadn’t failed at everything.  “Is there more?”

“Sid keeps me in the loop.  Ike still wants to chat, I’m making him sweat.”  He sounded gruff again.  “Putz puts you in this condition and gets out-” he made a noise that sounded like passing gas, “nothing.  He can stew, he can worry.  He’ll get his meeting, Lizzie, but he might not want to face me.”  He went quiet, making me think he was holding something back.  

“There’s more?”  I wanted it all.  Purge it and move on, or pretend to.  “Pop-Pop?”

“His family had a celebration, since he’s in the clear.”  I waited, and wasn’t disappointed, at least not in the sense that I was right, there was more.  “Ben showed up.  Ike insulted him.  He reminded, quietly I’m told, Ike about your current predicament, and-”

“Threatened to tell Vera?”  Of course, why wouldn’t he?  “And?”

“He left, it was tense.”  He chuckled again.  “The wife, I’m told it’s not all rainbows and sunshine, but-”

“There’s an image to maintain.”  I knew this, the scandal of a murder charge, even if it was dismissed, was something they had to work through.  

“He visited the whore.”  I shook my head at what Pop-Pop was insinuating with his tone.  “To ‘thank’ her.  She didn’t let him in.”  

“Miami sounds busy.”  I was choking back the urge to vomit and he noticed.

“Go, Lizzie, then have the tea you told me about.”  I agreed with a murmur of apology and thrust the phone back at Selma as I ran to the bathroom and let everything rush out.  

I was being punished.  That was the only thing I could think as I retched up anything I had put in my mouth that evening.  Punished for envy, for infidelity, for immorality.  But, as I stood up finally, and scrubbed the acidic sour taste from my mouth, I wouldn’t give up the tiny piece of Ike I still had.  Even if I felt exhausted and my nerves were stretched to the breaking point.  If the baby was all I kept from him, all I was allowed, then it was more precious to me than all the money or jewels in the world.  And I hoped it knew.  Knew that I already loved it, even if it was forcing misery upon me every single morning.  

Selma tried to keep my mind busy.  She tried distracting me with thoughts of shopping for new clothes.  She tempted me with trips to bookstores.  She took it as a personal challenge to find foods that would stay down, and new teas that would help soothe my rolling stomach as the silence from Pop-Pop and the news from Miami stretched out and dried up respectively.  

“Tents,” I swore, looking through the racks at the store she’d talked me into going to.  “Everything for an expecting woman, it all looks like tents.”  The patterns, the bows, and the utter ugliness of them, offended me on a deep level.  “Once we’re expecting do we all join the Navy?”  I asked, pulling a tent that was trying to pretend it was a sailor suit.  And held it up to Selma’s smirking amusement.  

“Can I help you?”  A frowning saleswoman approached, clearly offended by my mockery of the store’s line of camping equipment masquerading as clothing.  

“I think my niece,” Selma started, seeing my cringe grow as I flicked through more hangers holding uglier choices by the second.  “Wants to know if you have anything a little less-”

“Eye-gougingly hideous?”  I offered with a grimace.  I held up another tent with an enormous bow.  And met the woman’s eyes.  “Please?”  

She laughed, suddenly seeing that I wasn’t being unduly rude, but truly appalled by the lack of attractive options for what I was heading toward.  Shaking her head, she came closer and offered in a quiet, conspiratorial way, “they are horrible, aren’t they?”  She smiled.  “You should check-”  She gave us the name of a more upscale store a few towns away.  “They tend to have the more fashion forward styles, and they cater to more discerning tastes.”  

I thanked her, but Selma could see that I was too tired to continue shopping.  At the house, she told me to settle on the makeshift lounge she’d made the sofa into, and went to get us some tea.  Well, tea for me, something a bit stronger for her.  

It didn’t smell minty, the steaming cup that she handed me and I raised an eyebrow.  “Chamomile.”  She smiled, taking the chair at my feet.  “If you’re up to it, tomorrow we can try the other store.”  

I took a sip of the tea and waited a beat to see if it would have to make a return appearance.  When nothing happened, I smiled and sighed.  “What if we miss a call, Selma?”  I was worried that I wouldn’t be home, that I’d miss the call that told me I could go back, or that I had nothing to go back to.  

She shook her head and sipped from her glass.  “Then he calls back, Liz.  If it’s important, Sy will make sure he gets it to you, you know that.”  Did I?  It had gone quiet, and fast, and I felt like I was on a seesaw and I was waiting for the other person to kick off the ground so my feet could touch firm land again.  

“I’m worried, Selma, so worried that I can’t do this.”  My hand had gone to my stomach, to the little being inside.  

“You can.”  She was firm.  “You will.  And more important, I think, you want to.”  I met her eyes, and knew that she understood me, possibly better than I did.  

I’d consented to the shopping trip.  I allowed myself to be dragged into the new store, and even agreed to taking a seat and letting the saleswoman bring me samples of their line.  I turned down the offer of champagne, disagreeing with the assurances that it would help with my nausea.  

“The smell,” I frowned, the mere memory of the scent making my bile rise.  “I can’t.”  

Selma asked for seltzer water, for both of us, and the woman rushed off to complete her tasks.  First the drinks, fresh and fizzy she assured us with a perkiness that made me want to throw up, but not for the usual reason.  And then with two other women, carrying several new, yet still tent-like offerings.  I sighed and sat back.  Honestly?

“We were told that your establishment had more-” Selma looked to me for the word she wanted.  

“Attractive,” I supplied, rolling my eyes and taking a sip of my fresh and fizzy consolation prize.  

“Yes, attractive options for an expectant young woman.”  She smiled, knowing that this trip was going downhill fast.  

The saleswoman tried to argue that the fabrics, the prints, were all of a far higher quality, but I cut her off.

“They all have hideous bows, or unnecessary frills.”  I glared at the ‘quality’ sailor suit one was holding.  “Is there nothing with a sleeker line?  A cleaner feel?”  I could see that the saleswomen were finally taking in how I was dressed.  The black dress, my heels, the simple, yet expensive diamond on my finger (a requirement, Selma and I agreed, to cut off the questions or looks).  

“Perhaps,” the one who had greeted us, the one who had brought us the drinks, was running an idea through her head and I could almost smell the gears grinding.  “Give us a moment.”  

“You’re coming back to yourself,” Selma said into her drink.  “This reminds me of the time in Athens.”  I smiled at the memory.  “They kept trying to force the gauzy pastels on you-”

“All bows and roses,” I could almost feel the warm sun on my skin.  The scent of the sea.  “I thought they would cry when I insisted on-”

“Black.  Simple, plain, black.”  It had been what the salespeople had muttered, in Greek, thinking I couldn’t understand.  “When you asserted that you did indeed love plain and simple, I thought their heads would implode.”  

I chuckled and sobered quickly as I saw the group coming back.  “Round two?”  I muttered to Selma and she covered a laugh as a cough.  

“Usually,” the saleswoman started her pitch, “these styles are for the more full bodied clients we cater to, but, with the right adjustments, I think we can make them work for someone preparing for a new addition to their family.”  

Critically, I checked the offerings she’d brought.  Upon first inspection, they looked like regular dresses that hung in every shop a woman could shop in, but when I stood to take a closer look, I realized that first look was deceptive.  They had hems that hid the unhideable.  And-

“What’s this?”  I fingered a block of fabric that was perfectly disguised in the fabric.  

“Panels.”  The saleswoman offered with a smile.  “Added size, that works to hide the size it’s adding.”  Clever. “Is this what you were thinking of?”  

“Possibly.”  I didn’t want to give her too much confidence.  “Are there other patterns?”  Selma and the woman stared at me with shock.  “Colors?”  More silence as they took in my completely black ensemble.  “Do you have this one,”  I pulled the one that had caught my eye and spoke slow and clear as though they were all very dim witted.  “In red.”  

We left and I felt marginally better about the chance that I wouldn’t look like a barge or a sailor as I progressed.  I had the woman’s promise that, should I return to the states, I could call or have a seamstress call with my measurements and they would send my choices to me then.  Of course, it helped that I treated Selma with a few, a lot actually, new selections for her own wardrobe.  Greasing the wheel, so to speak.  

“You look relaxed,” she said, as they carefully packed her purchases into the car.  I nodded, I was tired, but I did feel relaxed.  “Good.”  They closed the boot and she started the car.  “Let’s get you back so you can really rest.”  

#magic city #Ike evans x ofc #ben diamond's daughter #sy berman's granddaughter #alternative universe

[anavoliselenu]

Hiched chapter 19

“We’re not staying here. Come on.” Sterling grabs his wallet and cell phone and heads to the door.

“Where to?”

“We’re going out. To where I should have taken you in the first place.”

Soon we’re at our favorite gentleman’s club, seated along the bar with a view of the stage, two pints of beer in front of us.

“Now this is somewhere to drown your sorrows,” Sterling remarks coolly.

My gaze drifts over to the center stage, where a petite blonde makes the stripper pole her bitch. But I think my cock must be broken, because despite the show she’s putting on, there’s not even the slightest bit of interest. Nada. Nothing. I look down at my lap. Urging my cock to do something. Waiting to see if it moves, if it twitches, anything to make me see that it’s not broken. She couldn’t have broken my cock when she broke my heart, could she?

Sterling leans forward on his elbows to give me a pointed look. “You want to know my grand unified theory of life?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to give it to me anyway, so sure.” I flash him a tight, fake grin and take another sip of my beer.

“Why get yourself all spun up over one woman, one difficult woman, when there are so many flavors to sample?”

He turns, gazing over at the action on the stage. All shapes and sizes of naked women shake their goods for us to enjoy. This is the biggest gentleman’s club in the city, and the choices are endless. From lean runner types with pert breasts and firm butts without dimples, to curvy goddesses whose huge breasts sway when they walk. From redheads that you instinctively know are trouble, to platinum blondes who are probably wild in bed, to demure brunettes who are every man’s perfect girl-next-door fantasy. But none of them appeal to me. Like, at all.

“Not interested,” I choke out, my throat feeling tight. What the hell has happened to me? I was Justin fucking Tate—master of my own domain, professional charmer and booty-call provocateur.

“Come fucking on,” Sterling says on a groan. “Not a one?”

I shake my head. “Nope.” None of these women hold a candle to the classy, sophisticated woman who used to warm my bed at night and keeps me on my toes all day. She makes me work for every inch of ground I gain with her. The feeling is addicting. Any of these woman would happily go home with me if I asked. Where’s the fun in that?

Sterling makes a low, tortured growl of frustration. “You’re impossible.”

I cut my gaze over to his. “Right, because your life is so perfect and full. If it was, you wouldn’t be at a place like this.”

I know I’m on to something. Sterling doesn’t open up much, but from what he has shared, I know his job makes him miserable much of the time, and living here while his entire family is still back in Great Britain is hard.

But he holds up his hands, taking no offense. “I was only trying to help. Chill.”

There is no helping me. There’s only an unmet need raging through my body and soul. I need to get Selena back. I need to be inside her. To claim her. To make her see that she is my wife. Till death do us part.

I take another sip of my beer, knowing I’ll get my chance tonight.

Chapter Five

Selena

The charity gala is beautiful. The finest, most mouthwatering cuisine is laid out on long tables along one wall of the opulent banquet hall. A tailcoated band plays lively smooth jazz on the stage set up at the other end.

Throughout the rest of the huge room, hundreds of upper-crust guests mingle and laugh and dance. White-shirted waiters slip fluidly through the crowd with silver trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes. The high bay windows stand open, letting a crisp breeze ruffle my chiffon evening gown and play over my bared shoulders and back.

And I can’t enjoy any of it, because the heir clause is still hanging over my head, casting a dark shadow over everything.

Even just a week ago, I would have been proud to stroll in here on Justin’s arm. And unfortunately he does look devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo. But after what he did, I don’t want him near me. I don’t want to pretend to be the lovey-dovey young couple, all picture-perfect smiles. Because I can’t simply erase what I saw from my brain.

That one tiny moment in the bathroom threw our whole relationship into question. It’s almost like we’re back to square one. Before I got to know him, before I saw him as anything more than an annoying, lazy playboy. Before I (almost) fell in love. I have to decide all over again whether I can trust him.

And even if I do trust him . . . what then? Let him put a baby in me? Sacrifice my body, my future, in exchange for a company that might end up drowning no matter what we do? I won’t be forced into having a child. If and when I have a baby, it will be because I’m ready to parent. And I’m a long way from believing that the person beside me in those fantasies is Justin.

My grim thoughts derail when Justin rests his arm around my waist, his hand on my opposite hip. I stiffen at his touch. The line between his brows deepens; he definitely noticed my flinch.

“Christ, Snowflake, try to loosen up,” he mutters under his breath.

“I’m still angry with you,” I say out of the corner of my mouth, still smiling brightly. The strain of keeping up our happy facade is already taking its toll on my nerves.

Justin’s expression darkens despite his trying to repress his frown. “Be angry all you want, just don’t act like it. We have to make this look good. The last thing the company needs is the media starting rumors that our relationship is on the rocks.”

“I know that, I just—”

Justin cuts me off. “Don’t look now, it’s the CEO of Acentix Telecom.” He inclines his head toward a silver-haired gentleman walking our way. “Act natural. Touch my arm or something.”

“I’ll pass,” I hiss just as the man claps Justin on the shoulder.

“Justin Tate, you son of a gun.” He laughs, louder than necessary—the room isn’t that noisy. “How’ve you been lately? Is this lovely creature your wife?”

Justin’s gaze flicks toward me, too fast for anyone else to see. I know what he’s thinking: For now, anyway. But he responds smoothly, “I’m proud to say she is. Selena, have you met Caleb Tyrell?”

I nod at Mr. Tyrell. “Yes, at all of our client meetings with Acentix.” And yet this idiot still managed to forget me.

“Ah yes, of course. How could I forget such a pretty face?” Caleb winks at me.

Normally I would play along with his corny old-fart flirting. But I have no patience left for putting up with men tonight. I just nod and smile, more stiffly than before.

“Sweetheart, your hand is empty. Let’s go get you a glass of prosecco.” Justin steers me away from Mr. Tyrell under the pretext of us going to the bar.

I set my jaw. Why did he have to jump in like that? Intervening so obviously only makes the situation more awkward than it already is.

Fortunately, Mr. Tyrell doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong. “As much as I’d love to shoot the breeze, I should get back to my own wife before she gets jealous.” With another obnoxious wink in my direction, he ambles away and disappears into the crowd.

“What the hell is your problem tonight?” Justin growls under his breath as soon as the client is out of earshot.

“You just have to be in control of everything, don’t you?” I snap right back. I could have handled myself smoothly in that situation, if he’d only given me a chance. Just because I needed his help with Brad doesn’t mean Justin has to be my white knight all the time.

“Okay, that’s it. If you want to fight, let’s at least take this somewhere private. Then you can make as big a scene as you fucking want.”

I match his dark glare. “Great idea.”

Justin stalks through the banquet hall’s entrance. I follow him as he turns down a seemingly random narrow hallway. Even from behind, he looks almost as pissed as I feel—his shoulders are tense and his stride is even longer than usual, forcing me to hurry after him.

Gradually the buzz of chatter from the banquet hall fades, leaving only the clack of our shoes on the marble floors. When we reach a coat closet, he yanks the door open. “After you.” He follows me inside and shuts the door behind us, plunging us into shadows.

I launch into my tirade as if there had been no interruption. “What the fuck do you think my problem is? I can manage faking a happy relationship for the press, but don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

I can just barely make out Justin shaking his head. “We both know that’s not the whole story. You’ve been freezing me out for days now. If you’ve got something to say, say it. I’m listening.”

What is it with men and not understanding basic communication? “I’ve already made my feelings very clear. You just don’t like the messages you got.”

“Oh, come on.” He sighs. “Throw me a bone here. I know I fucked up royally, and I’m sorry, but things between us have been going nowhere lately. Can I at least get a hint about where I stand? Am I going to stay in the doghouse forever? Just let me know what I should do, how I can fix this.”

“It’s not that easy. Do you think you can just buy me some flowers and I’ll forget all about what I saw that night? The heir clause will disappear out of the contract, we’ll inherit the company, and live happily ever after?”

“You said you were giving up. Quitting the company, or quitting our marriage, or maybe both—I couldn’t exactly ask for clarification while you were tearing ass out the door. But then why are you still here?” Justin’s silhouette throws its hands up. “If you hate me so much, why haven’t we gotten a divorce yet? Are you giving this another chance or not? I’ll stay by your side, or I’ll leave if there’s really no hope left, but I won’t hang around just to be your punching bag.”

I swallow past the knot in my throat, fighting the urge to cry from sheer anxiety and frustration. “I don’t know, okay? Even if I believed everything you said—about how you’d never get me pregnant without my consent—what’s next? What are we going to do? No baby means no inheritance.”

“If you believed me?” He releases an exasperated scoffing sound. “You don’t even know that for sure? Wow, I guess I really am on your shit list.”

I doubt he can see me roll my eyes, but I do it anyway. “Gee, I wonder why. There’s no reason on earth why a woman should distrust a man who lied his ass off about things that could make or break her whole future.”

“I said I was sorry. I made a big fucking stupid mistake, okay? I didn’t speak up when I should have, because I was so scared of losing you and ruining the company and—”

“The company is going to be ruined anyway!” I explain for what feels like the hundredth time. “If you had said something earlier, we could have figured this out together. Instead you waited until the last possible second.”

“Is saving Tate & Cane the real reason why you’re so tense? Because I’m here to help with that.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re hitting on me,” I reply in my driest, coldest tone.

“No, that’s not where I was going.” His voice drops slightly, taking on a silky note. “Although if you want me to . . .” He leans against the wall, trapping me between his arms.

I turn my face away from his. Having him this close makes it hard to think. “Ugh. No thanks.”

“Fair enough. All I meant is that we’re partners—we can think of a way out of this problem, if you’ll just let me help you.”

Why hasn’t he backed off yet? His spicy cologne is slowly filling my head with fog. “I think I have the right to be a little skeptical of a man who I caught with a fucking needle.”

Justin makes a quiet growling huff. “See what I mean? You bring that up again, and I already apologized and explained what happened. We’re just going in circles.” His voice smooths out again into an imploring, seductive tone. “Please, Snowflake. Don’t shut me out. I’ll do anything. Just tell me. Say the word and I’ll be on my knees—begging forgiveness, at your service, ready and willing to make it up to you.”

His warm breath fans ticklishly over my cheek as he speaks. That voice is pure sin, licking at my self-control like flames.

I try to retort, “Y-you’re ready and willing for that anytime. With just about any woman too.”

“You know that’s not true. Maybe I was that way once, but now . . . I’m a one-woman man. You’ve caught me for good. I’ll never be satisfied with anyone but you ever again.”

And suddenly, his hands clasp my bare shoulders and his lips press hot against mine.

I gasp into his mouth. My eyes slide shut helplessly. I didn’t realize how much I needed this contact, this closeness, until Justin’s touch lit my nerves on fire. But now I’m painfully aware of every minute it’s been since he last made love to me.

I’m still pissed at him. Damn his sexy smirk, damn his wickedly skilled kiss, more intoxicating than anything I’ve drunk tonight . . . I don’t want to want him. But I do want this. Dear God, I might even need it.

And so I let myself give in.

It’s okay as long as he doesn’t talk. As long as he doesn’t remind me that we’re Justin Tate and Selena Cane, heirs to a failing company, with the board’s impending decision hanging over our heads like a guillotine blade.

Right now, under cover of darkness, we’re anonymous. Just a man and a woman, a pair of animals who are starving for each other. I can pretend that this is only sex, only blowing off some steam, and it’s not because I’m still addicted to Justin despite everything that’s happened between us. I can come back to my senses—to my waking life, my anger and hurt and worry, all the crushing responsibilities of my family name—after my body is satisfied.

At the exploring swipe of Justin’s tongue, I open up and return his kiss savagely. He gives a little surprised noise, then a growl of satisfaction. His lips curve against mine in a smug smile.

Does he think he’s won me over? Then he’d better fucking think again, because I’m going to make him fight for every inch of ground. I crush my mouth against his, and when he gently nips my lower lip, I answer with a harsh bite. He moans and matches my intensity right back. Soon our kiss is little more than a dance of dueling tongues and soft murmurs of pleasure.

Still devouring my mouth, he leans into me, walking me backward until my lower back hits a shelf. I jolt at the brush of cold metal on bare skin. Then he pushes a little more for good measure, forcing me to arch my spine and raise my chin, exposing my neck. The shelf’s chill soaks through the thin fabric of my dress and spreads goosebumps over my arms. But I’m already so hot, I barely notice any of it. My senses are too completely consumed by Justin’s touch and taste and smell.

He hikes up my evening gown’s skirt and gropes me, his fingertips tracing up my bare thighs until I can’t stand it. I know exactly where his destination is, and I want him there now.

Lifting the elastic edge of my panties, his fingers glide over my center in one easy stroke. “No matter what, Snowflake, you’re always wet for me.” His voice is rough with need, but his movements are controlled.

“Sh-shut up and do something about it,” I gasp.

“As you wish.”

He gently pets my clit, my blood racing, heart pounding as I rock my hips forward. It’s too slow. Torturous.

Finally, need wins out over pride, and I beg. “More.”

“I hope you’re ready.” And with that, Justin’s control snaps. He yanks down my damp panties and shoves three fingers inside me.

My head almost hits the wall as it falls back. I dig my nails into his shoulders, urging him harder, harder. He plunges his fingers in and out with rough jerks of his arm. It’s still not quite enough; I want his cock, long and thick. But I’m not so far gone as to forget that we’re in public. So I make do.

And in a way, this rough fingering is better than fucking. It’s all for me, all about my pleasure. I can feel his steely erection against my inner thigh, twitching with eagerness, but he doesn’t get jack shit until I decide he deserves it. I reach under his moving arm and grab his crotch through his pants, just to feel how hard he is and to hear him groan in frustrated need.

And he does. The sound is harsh and needy. It makes my pussy grip his fingers hard, quivering as his desperate growl washes through me.

His hand is a surprisingly decent substitute for his cock. Every thrust rubs the ball of his thumb against my clit and strikes the spot inside me that shoots hot lightning through my veins, making my toes curl in my Manolo Blahniks. All the bare hangers on the shelves around us rattle with his force.

“Faster, dammit,” I grunt out between thrusts. He’s pounding the breath out of me in sharp, guttural bursts—stifled growls reminding us both that I’m still angry as hell.

“You asked for it.” His arm pistons faster and I bite my lower lip hard enough to bruise.

He suddenly breaks our kiss, leaving me with nothing to stifle my whimpers, and his mouth descends to suck and bite at my neck. I want to tell him that he’s a dead man if he leaves a hickey, but I can’t form words anymore. All I can do is cling to him, clawing at his shoulders. I arch my hips up and spread my knees to urge him even deeper inside me. He fucks me as hard as he can into the wall while I hang on for dear life, gasping and trembling as the pleasure rises higher.

My thighs clamp around his forearm as I finally tip over the edge. No longer able to thrust with his arm’s full strength, Justin crooks his fingers to massage my G-spot and grinds the heel of his hand into my clit. I shudder violently, my mouth opening in a silent scream, wave after wave of white heat pulsing through my entire body. Justin keeps working his hand to let me ride out my climax to the end.

Floating slowly down from my high, I can feel myself still spasming around his fingers, my inner walls gripping tight and relaxing and then gripping again, weaker and weaker each time. I flush deep red at the thought of just how much Justin can feel. He could tell the moment I started to come and the moment my orgasm finally faded away. There’s nothing I can hide from him when I’m like this.

His fingers slide free with a faint slick noise. His eyes are dark with lust as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. My knees tremble a little. God, he’s infuriatingly sexy.

He steps closer to loop an arm around my bare back and he kisses me, tenderly now. I can taste myself on his lips. I’m feeling so languorous that I relax into his embrace without thinking. His cock is still rock hard in my hand. Instinctively, I reach out to unzip his pants and reciprocate the pleasure he just gave me. Even through his tuxedo, his body is so warm against the breeze trickling down from the ceiling vents, the chill I somehow never noticed before . . .

It suddenly seeps into my spine and I shiver, blinking like I’ve just woken up from a dream. Wait . . . what am I doing? Why did we just . . . ? My jaw tightens. The fog of lust is clearing fast and goddammit, I’ve made a huge mistake. I’m supposed to still be pissed at him, but yet again, I let my libido take the reins. How does this always happen?

I yank my hands off Justin’s crotch like I’ve been burned. Giving in to pleasure was bad enough, but giving in to the desire to please him . . . I’m acting like we’re making love. And as much as I try to tell myself it was just force of habit, I know it wasn’t. I wanted to get him off almost as badly as I wanted to come myself.

“What’s wrong?”

Justin’s voice is still husky, so ready for my touch, and I shake my head like I can dislodge the seductive sound.

“You already know.”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I hike my panties back up and smooth my skirt. I let him get so far. He still has so much sexual power over me. He can play my body like a violin, and the rest of me is helpless to follow.

“Hey, where are you going? What about me?”

Ignoring Justin’s protests, I charge out of the closet like something is chasing me. As if I can outrun my own feelings. I fling open the door . . . just in time to lock eyes with Mr. Tyrell, walking down the hall. His eyes widen in confusion.

“Got lost looking for the bathroom,” I blurt, and stomp back to the main room as fast as my high heels will let me.

Chapter Six

Justin

If Selena is going to stay mad, fine. So be it. But if last night is any indication, we still have chemistry. With my fingers buried deep inside her, she came apart, clawing at my suit jacket, devouring my mouth, gasping for air. She can pretend to be unaffected all she wants, but I know the truth.

And she’s still here, sharing our apartment. She hasn’t filed for divorce or started looking for a new place or anything like that. So I have to believe that, deep down, she does still have feelings for me. Her father was right—growing up, we were so in sync, right there for each other through every rite of passage. Granted, I’m sleeping on the couch, but at least she hasn’t left.

I’ll just have to find a way to make her believe those feelings, show her that we belong together. Convince her that the happily-ever-after she’s always wanted isn’t just a fantasy—it’s something we can have together, for real. But it’s become obvious that I’ll have to fight dirty. And that’s why I’ve enlisted the help of our friends. This is gonna take a village.

“Where’s Selena today?” Camryn asks, surveying our empty apartment as she enters.

“At the spa.” I usher her over toward the dining room where I have everything set up. I booked Selena for the works today—European facial, hot stone massage, manicure, pedicure, and something called a blow-out, which I’m told is for her hair. “We have at least four hours,” I add.

Selena thinks the appointment is just my latest attempt to apologize for everything, but really, it’s because I needed her out of the house so I could hold this brainstorming session.

Camryn nods. “I’ll help however I can.”

I appraise her as though I’m looking at her for the first time. Her mischievous green eyes have a sparkle to them and her expression is open and curious. “Why the change in attitude?” I ask. She once told me she wasn’t Team Justin, after all.

Camryn helps herself to one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar. “Because.” She flips her long chestnut-colored hair over one shoulder. “I’ve seen how good you guys can be together. In just a couple short months, you were the cause of so many positive changes in her. She worked less, she laughed more. She wasn’t just all about the grind.”

I nod, hanging on her every word.

“She had pleasure in her life too—something that put a smile on her face, and that something was you.”

A smug grin uncurls on my mouth. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“But.” She purses her lips like she’s tasted a lemon. “You did fuck up royally.”

My grin fades to nothing. “I did.”

“Epically. Like, completely fucked up beyond anything that’s normal.”

Okay, Jesus, I get it. I interrupt her before she can rub any more salt in the wound. “And that’s why I’ve invited you guys here today. We’ll start as soon as Sterling gets here.”

The buzzer sounds, signaling his arrival.

“Speak of the devil,” I mutter and head to the intercom to buzz him in.

Sterling grins and claps his hand on my shoulder when he arrives. “Ready to get your girl back?”

“Hell yes.”

My posture relaxes, and I lead him into the dining room. Having the support of my best friend means the world to me, and gives me the tiniest bit of hope that maybe this is possible. Sterling’s always been the voice of reason, after all. If he believes in me, maybe I really can pull this off.

I gesture for Sterling to take a seat. He does, next to Camryn at the counter. They watch me with wary expressions. I stand next to the easel with the new flip charts and markers I purchased just for the occasion. The dining table is scattered with poster board, sticky notes, and extra markers. I only hope we’ll be able to figure out a workable plan today. Never in my life have I wanted something as badly as I want to fix my relationship with Selena. To bring us back to the happy place we used to be.

Growing up, I always envied what my parents had. Sure, I’ve spent years playing the field and indulging in meaningless conquests, but I’ve always known deep down that I was a one-woman kind of guy and I’d eventually want to settle down. To attain that kind of comfortable familiarity that comes with monogamy and commitment. And now, just when I’ve gotten a taste of how good that can be—it’s been savagely ripped away from me by my own stupid actions.

I clear my throat. “First, thank you both for being here today. It means a lot.”

Sterling nods for me to go on. Camryn looks a little skeptical but stays quiet, waiting for me to continue.

“As Camryn pointed out earlier, yes, I have fucked up royally. And I don’t intend to make any excuses for my behavior. I only want to tell you that I was a desperate man, at the end of my rope. And that I love Selena . . . and probably always have.”

Camryn’s expression softens and she leans back in her seat, placing her hands in her lap.

“I’ve brought you both here today to help me create a strategy for winning back my wife.”

I repeat the words I practiced in the shower this morning, pausing to write Operation: Get Selena Back on the flip-chart paper taped to the easel.

I hear Camryn snicker and look over at my captive audience. Sterling is gazing at me, his mouth open like I’ve lost my damn mind.

“What?” I ask, feeling defensive. I’ve barely begun, and they’re giggling at me behind their hands like children.

“Selena has rubbed off on you.” Camryn chuckles. “The old Justin would have winged it.”

I consider her words for a moment. Just as I open my mouth to ask if that’s such a terrible thing, Sterling interrupts.

“And the old Justin would have had pizza and beer.”

At that, Camryn perks up. “Oh, pizza sounds great. I haven’t had lunch yet.”

I fish my cell phone from my pocket and toss it to Sterling. “Fine, order pizza. And there’s beer in the fridge. But we’re going to work through this, and you’re going to help me figure it out.”

Camryn salutes me while Sterling presses the phone to his ear to order two large pies.

It’s been five minutes and my strategy meeting is already fucking derailed.

• • •

Paper plates with pizza crusts litter the coffee table, along with a few half-empty bottles of beer. The poster board I bought has turned into a mess of scribbles, after Sterling challenged Camryn to a game of hangman and then tic-tac-toe.

The easel holds a large drawing of a penis, which Camryn assured me with a sober expression was the key to getting Selena back. Right now, they’re laughing and adding words like vulva and scrotum to the mess.

I want to slap both of them.

All their suggestions were silly and unhelpful. This entire afternoon has been a huge waste of time, and now I only have an hour before Selena’s due to arrive home.

“Okay. That’s enough.” I grab the Sharpies from their hands. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, then get out. Both of you.”

Camryn rises to her feet and yawns. “Sounds fine to me. I’m going home . . . I need a nap.”

Sterling pats me on the back—in sympathy or to mock my efforts today, I’m not sure. “You’ll think of something, buddy. I know it.”

“Thanks,” I reply, unconvinced.

I usher them out the door, then systematically make my way through the apartment, wadding up the used papers and collecting the markers. I stuff the remnants of our lunch into the trash and then collapse on our bed, grabbing her pillow and holding on to it, her scent all around me. I stare blankly up at the ceiling.