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ninaahelvar · 6 years

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Paw Prints

Summary: Owen owns the local animal shelter and trains service dogs. Claire volunteers there for a nice line on her resume. Everyone teases Owen about his obvious attraction towards her. The thing he doesn’t realise - the feelings aren’t one sided.

AO3

A/N: This was a prompt from an anon! I adored it so much! thank you to whoever sent it in! hope i did it justice! xx

“She’s hot, right?”

“What?” Owen said, realising he was staring. Claire sat at the front desk, her pen between two fingers as she balanced it back and forth, some lawyer talking to her with his fancy suit and perfect grin. Owen rolled his eyes when the guy laughed and Claire forced a smile. Lowery nudged Owen again.

“You know, the love of your life? Claire?”

“Shut up,” Owen shoved Lowery, who laughed and took Echo to the next room to go for outdoor training. She was a calm blue heeler who followed her commands, but liked to play a lot. Rex barked as she followed Lowery and Echo, her head held high as she walked briskly towards the sliding backdoor.

Claire worked the front desk occasionally, something about how she needed volunteer work on her resume. She was a young hotshot lawyer straight out of law school and said she liked what they were doing for veterans. Her father served once, and had required a service dog on his return. It seemed to be close to her heart, and Owen agreed to let her on - though he had tried to pay her for her work, she requested that it all be put on as volunteer stuff. He had a few paychecks to give her when she decided she no longer needed the position.

Without fail, however, every day lawyers from her classes or ones that she knew came by to give her coffee or talk to her for longer than Owen liked. They had one thing in common. God he hated pretty boys. He knew he was jealous - of their easy grins and floofy hair and the way they seemed to talk so effortlessly with her. But comparing himself was a new low. Maybe she liked pretty boys, like the ones that always came to visit. Instead, Owen was sitting there with his ex-marine status and ptsd to match the war wounds, and hairy as bigfoot.

He was training Charlie that day and, the beautiful black labrador came trotting up behind Owen as he guided her to her spot. As the other dogs got to relax and unwind outside, Owen had his own pup - Blue - sitting nearby as Lowery and Barry came to the training exercise. For some vets, crowded or tight spaces were triggers; and admittedly it was one of Owen’s, but it allowed them a unique opportunity to help the dogs understand a real event. As they walked the length of the animal shelter, Lowery and Barry came up beside Owen, their shoulders touching and pushing him into an uncomfortable position. Owen could feel his heart rate increasing, and as Charlie saw, she immediately got in between Owen and Lowery, and the same to Barry, giving Owen as much space as he needed.

The two other trainers looked cautiously at Owen before nodding and giving a treat to Charlie for her good behaviour. But Owen’s mind hadn’t kicked out of gear, reeling and charged with energy he wasn’t able to omit. And then, his head raced with flashes of memories, the realness of it all making his hands shake and he was having a full fledged attack that he couldn’t control.

Bomb. Drop.

Explosion.

Fire.

Flash.

Screaming.

Calls of his name.

Flash.

Crushing.

Legs feeling numb.

Flash.

Owen felt Blue jumping up at him and he collapsed down to his knees, the two dogs whimpering as he settled him against the wall, guiding him down and licking at his face. Charlie had already been trained in this exercise, but had never truly achieved what Blue had. Blue rested her head in Owen’s lap as he began breathing in long deep breaths. Charlie occasionally licked Owen’s hand, staying as close as she could on Owen’s other side.

It was calm, having Blue by his side. After his final deployment, he was exhausted and he knew the dreams he was having were signs of ptsd. The moment he could, he got therapy, he had his service dog - Blue - and he was having less attacks because of her around. The attacks less severe and less frequent, but he still had them bearing down on him. When he heard the owner of the local veteran animal shelter was selling, he knew he had to get in on it.

Although he knew very little of taking care of a business like this, he was good at training animals from his time abroad and when his friends all heard, they wanted to jump on board too. Zara and Zia were two vets who volunteered at the clinic for check ups on the service dogs, whilst Lowery trained animals for a living, Barry was just a lucky break when he had no job after serving and was great with training the dogs for stealth units. Franklin kept their business together - though he was terrible around the dogs, he managed to work with Claire on the books and keep away from the animals for most of the time. When they housed cats for a short time, Franklin would steal away to their section before leaving in sneezing fits.

Hated dogs, and was allergic to cats.

“Are you okay?” A voice asked and Owen looked up - his mind racing and in his own world.

“Huh?” He asked before realising Claire was bending down to his level, hand cautiously touching his knee.

“You’ve been in the corner for a little while with Blue and Charlie,” she said, and Owen felt his heart rate had definitely gone down and the dogs had calmed down along with him.

“Oh, uh…” Owen said, shifting to make the dogs get a little excited. Owen cleared his throat. “The exercise is a hard one for me. We usually do it to trigger for the dogs to see how they react. Blue is usually close by in case they can’t,” he explained, realising the mistakes of his exercise - and although it wasn’t always like this, it could be a possibility.

“You shouldn’t purposely trigger yourself,” Claire said, patting his knee gently.

“Yeah, we know, but it’s good that they experience what a real attack is like,” he said, feeling his heart rate go a little haywire. Charlie soon began licking his face, leaning her head on his thigh to indicate to him to calm down.

“Do you want me to bring you anything?” she asked.

“I think I’ll be fine,” he said, patting at the dogs’ heads. “Thanks anyway,” he smiled.

“Shout if you need me,” Claire said, rising from her crouching position to walk back to her desk, turning and smiling at him as he let his head rest against the wall. It was only a few minutes later when Owen stood and went back to work, maintaining a level head throughout the day.

It was a well known fact around the shelter that Owen was completely in love with Claire. He couldn’t help it - she was strong, smart, and never let anyone get to her. The minute she was hired, everyone made fun of Owen, how he listened to her and the way he watched her walk away all the time. He was a mess and the whole shelter had begged Owen to ask her out. Something that Owen was still struggling with…

It was hard; trying to get the courage to approach her. He’d tried - so many times he’d called her name, only to be dazed by her perfume. Or he’d walk up to her desk, plans for coffee already flying off his tongue, and she’d smile up at him and he’d choke on the sentence at the back of his throat. Finding the words was always difficult around her - in a way it had never been with anyone else. He could charm just about any woman to come home with him, take them to bed and show them a good time - and the one time he needed his charm to work, he became a bumbling mess of a man, unable to find his limbs and the giddiness erupting like a teenage boy.

Which was why, when he ran into her on a sunny Thursday, he found himself with a barking dog, a coffee stained dress shirt, and a vow to never even bother asking again. Claire had done a girlish laugh, patted his shoulder, and the courage that he could have had was now deeper than the dogshit he had to pick up later that same day.

From that day on, it became pining looks that were never inconspicuous, and daydreams that were lost to the mess of his ptsd mind.

*~*~*

Rex was a largest dog he’d ever trained, a giant caucasian ovcharka. When her owner had passed away, she had no real home to go to, so she acted as the shelters carer - but went home with Blue and Owen at the end of the day. Blue had recently had a bath, and was running around outside in the sun, as Rex relaxed inside with Owen underneath the air conditioning, following the airflow. Rex barked at Owen when he got in her way, but she wagged her tail anyway.

Claire walked in with one of the regular douchebag lawyers on her heels - Eli Mills. He wore his suits like he was the richest man in the world, but they were cheap and tacky - just like Eli, it seemed. Claire, on the other hand, wasn’t going into her firm just yet; she was only a researcher, so didn’t have cases to work. Graceful as ever, Claire wore the pastel blue summer dress, wrapped around her like she was a gift, and her hair pulled up off of her neck.

So yeah, Owen was staring.

Very obviously staring.

Rex barked, but Owen just patted her head, pretending to guide her in a circle as he still watched as Claire went over her notes and tried to hold a conversation with a wooden door.

“Yes, Owen, I do love you. None of the other men matter, only you,” Lowery whispered in Owen’s ear, and Owen shoved the shortstack aside, even though Lowery’s fits of laughter made Owen smile.

“Come here, asshat,” Owen cursed, chasing Lowery around, Rex racing after them and bellowing out howls, tailing going nuts as she jumped around. She was a dominant force, pushing them around and they both chuckled as it became a battle between the men and the beast.

“It’s a little unprofessional to just beat up an employee, don’t you think?” Eli called out and the pair looked at each and scoffed, Rex still jumping around.

“Rex, down,” Owen whistled sharply, and Rex stopped barking and stood her ground, staring at Owen as he made full eye contact with Eli, “heal,” he said, Rex meeting at Owen’s side. “Beg,” he ordered, “assert,” he said, Rex moving around Owen, barking before standing in front of him and giving three barks, equal distance apart as she sat in front of him. Owen smiled, kneeling down and patting Rex’s head, handing over a treat, which she gladly took. “Good girl,” he praised. “I’m a good trainer. If I’m good at my job, I get to fuck around,” Owen said,

“You should be concerned that veterans come here and get shitty dogs,” Eli commented, just as an old army buddy came through the front doors and Owen beamed, hollering to him.

“Sempa Fi!” Reaper called. Owen saluted the man.

“Hey Reaper! I have Charlie ready for some training,” Owen said, hugging Michael - nicknamed Reaper - arm over his shoulder as he took him to the back rooms with the other dogs.

“Owen is a veteran. I think respect should be shown to a guy that’s seen more shit than you have,” Claire replied, and Eli said something in a hushed voice to Claire. Owen smiled to Claire as he continued on.

“Rex,” Owen called, whistling again and the giant dog walked quickly behind Owen as he showed the fellow veteran Charlie and guided him through commands.

*~*~*

Owen was watching Barry as he guided Delta, an eager German Shepherd, through her basic runs as a seeing eye dog. She was very talented and could be very focused on her job. The two trainers made some remarks to one another, noting some small things she could improve on, getting her to go through the exercise a few more times with praise coming from every successful run. It wasn’t long before Owen became a little distracted by the redhead by the door.

It was the staring.

The staring always made him a little fumbly.

Because when Claire looked up at him, Owen’s attention went down to his shoes when he should have refocused on Barry and Delta.

Owen had no game whatsoever.

He crossed his arms, and felt his palms get sweaty as she walked over, the outfit of the day was a suit that made Owen’s mouth a little dry.

“I have to grab coffee today, I was wondering if you wanted to join me?” she explained, and all Owen’s mind did was focus on the word - I have to - because she was meeting Eli. She was meeting with Eli again and Owen would have to watch him try and flirt with her yet again, and his jealousy was a raging creature. He lost to it every time. Owen cleared his throat.

“Oh, I don’t want to get in the way, you go on,” he said, noticing the slight shock on her face - an unexpected response?

“Oh, okay, uh, see you later?” she asked and Owen nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling at her weakly before she moved towards the doors. Owen watched as she left, mentally beating the shit out of himself for being the absolute worst

“Owen,” Barry said, meeting Owen at his side.

“Yeah?”

“You’re a dumbass,” Barry said, and Owen looked over at his friend.

“Why?”

“She was asking you out, you complete idiot,” he said, smacking at Owen’s shoulder. Owen’s eyes narrowed - she wasn’t asking him out, that’d be stupid. She didn’t like guys like him; he wasn’t like the guys she was surrounded by. He was different and rough and serly compared to the lawyers that fawn at her feet.

“I can fire you, you know?” Owen snapped, and Barry clicked his tongue.

“Do it, I dare you,” he replied.

“Rex, chase,” Owen called, Rex bounding from her sitting position and springing up to Barry who tried to control Rex and Delta, as the two dogs set each other off - overstimulation was bad for service dogs.

“Hey!” Barry called out in a laugh and Owen whistled.

“Okay, Rex, heel,” he called, and Rex came back to him, waiting for her next task and he gave a small clicking sound before she circled to her spot and sat down.

*~*~*

Owen had Rex staying at the shelter as he did some errands with Blue. He had bangs hanging from his wrists, wandering around corners trying to find a cafe that may be service dog friendly when a voice called out in the crowd. “Hey you!” Owen looked forward, finding Claire waving at him delicately. Blue barked, wagging her tail and moving eagerly next to Owen.

“Oh, hi!” he replied, smiling to Claire. Though, his smile shifted when he saw Eli.

“Claire, we have to -” he tried to say before she waved him off.

“You go on ahead,” she said. Owen looked between the pair before trying to whisper to Claire.

“I don’t want to hold you up,” he said, but Claire ignored the question, bending down to Blue who sat patiently by Owen’s side. She didn’t interact with Blue, just waving and smiling.

“Are you going for a coffee?” she asked, and there was a small dart of her hand that was clear that she wanted to pat Blue more than she’d care to admit. Owen hid his smile.

“Ah, yeah, but -”

“Come on, I’ll buy,” she said, seemingly ignoring his efforts to stop interrupting her day. She willingly became a part of his day, it seemed.

“You don’t have to d-”

“Claire!” Eli called out, but Claire just waved over her shoulder.

“Go ahead, Eli! I’ll be right there!” she said, arm still hooked with Owen’s as she walked them to a cafe nearby.

Owen was always nervous about taking Blue to cafes or restaurants - many didn’t accommodate an animal inside, or they didn’t known if they had a certain policy against animals. Instead, it seemed, Owen was willing to follow Claire, trusting her instincts rather than his own. Walking inside, people eyed the dog with the vest on the minute they walked in. Blue stayed focused on Owen’s side as the pair walked up the counter.

The barista looked at Owen and Blue, their brow furrowing as they stammered for words. “We don’t -”

“Service dog,” Claire interrupted, “can I grab regular caramel latte,” she ordered quickly with no hesitation. Owen was still unsure but she soon looked at him with a curious tilt of her head, “you?”

“Large black coffee,” he said back, not wanting to take up anymore of her time for that day.

“And a large black coffee,” she repeated for the barista, “oh, and some whipped cream for the dog, please?” she said, handing her card over for payment.

“Sure,” The barista smiled at the request and it was all put through.

“You know you don’t -”

“No arguing,” Claire said, taking the card back and smiling at him. Owen gave over a defeated chuckle, giving her a weak salute.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied and Claire laughed.

They sat outside the cafe for a little while as Blue laid down on the ground, licking the small cup of whipped cream before the pair decided to set off. Blue was still concerned with licking the remnants of the cream from her nose when there was a soft and breathable moment that Owen took in droves. It was a courage he was lacking, but he wanted to make it last.

“You look nice today,” he said, and Claire smiled, looking down at her outfit. She wore a flowy white skirt that went just past her knees and matched with a long sleeve pastel blue blouse. It was slightly see through, a white tank top underneath, but she looked amazing.

“Thank you,” she replied, a giddiness in her reply. “I’m meeting with the partners of the firm today and get to talk about becoming an actual lawyer instead of a researcher,” she said, holding her coffee a little tighter.

“That’s amazing,” Owen nodded, trying to follow her words as much as he could - though he had very little knowledge on what it all meant.

“It’s a little nerve wracking if I have to be honest,” she laughed.

“Yeah, Blue can tell,” Owen chuckled and Claire turned to him.

“What?”

“She’s whining,” Owen said, and the pause between their words let the dogs soft whines be heard. “It’s not because of me,” he said and Claire huffed, crouching down to Blue’s level once more.

“Hey, girl,” she greeted, “I’ll be okay,” she winked before standing. Owen gave soft pats to the border collie’s head.

“You’re gonna be just amazing, Claire,” Owen said, and there was a sigh that left Claire - a breath of relief.

“Thank you,” she said, moving into his space and kissing his cheek. She pulled back as her phone started to ring and she cursed under her breath. “I’ve gotta run! I’ll see you later!” she said, hurrying off and Owen watched as she ran as fast as she could around a corner, heading towards whatever destination she needed to go. Regardless of how many times he had watched her leave - he could do it a thousand times over.

*~*~*

Blue was being calm that day - he felt the pressure from his shoulders lifting with her by his side, and even as he paced about some business with the shelter, she still kept him calm. The forms he was reading were simple and didn’t mean anything bad, but he needed to go over them as owner of the business - it just confused the shit out of him.

Taking another lap, Owen heard the doors of the shelter open and he rolled his eyes when he saw Eli walking into the room, cocky attitude following him like a bad stink. He leaned on the front desk as Claire’s attention was on her own that she was trying to get off her desk. “Claire, you know your starting at the firm soon,” Eli said and Owen’s pace slowed, listening into the conversation that he really didn’t want to pay attention to, but he wanted to make sure Claire was okay.

“I’m very much aware of that,” she replied, voice quick and uninterested.

“Before then, I want to take you on a nice date,” Eli said, his tone seductive yet condescending at the same time. Claire looked up at Eli. It made Owen feel sick and his heart felt like it was burning - racing to erupt into something that would finally -

“Blue, hey, stop it,” Owen said, feeling Blue push herself against Owen.

“You know, wear a dress that would put any other woman to shame, get the best bottle of wine,” Eli continued and Owen clenched his fist around the paper. Blue began jumping up and down, trying to gain his attention as she whined.

“I’m calm, stop jumping,” he replied, trying to get the dog to calm down.

“Dinner, movie, walk in the park, back to my plac-”

“Woah!” Owen said as Blue jumped up and basically tackled Owen to the ground. She laid straight down on top of him, wagging her tail and keeping him pinned. Owen resigned to this feeling. It helped. And he knew why.

“Owen, are you -” Claire tried before Eli’s laugh echoed in the shelter.

“That guy really is nuts,” he said. Owen covered his eyes, patting at Blue’s head as he regained a better breathing pattern.

“You can go, Eli,” Claire said to Owen’s surprise.

“What?” To Eli’s surprise too apparently.

“I know you don’t get this job, but I’ve liked it here,” she said, and he gave over a reluctant sigh.

“Just call me about the date okay? I’ll pick you up wherever you wanna go,” he said, just before the doors shut. Owen was watching the inside of his palm, trying to remember when his life wasn’t a mess. It was never clear. Maybe the womb was his only non-chaotic place.

“You okay?” Claire said and Owen turned to her.

“Fine, I think Blue misread a sign, and pounced,” he lied, and Claire laughed as she sat down next to them.

“She looks very comfy,” she said, nodding and hiding a smile.

“I’m her favourite bed,” he said, scratching behind the dog’s ear.

“Lucky her,” Claire said, teeth nipping at her bottom lip. Owen’s heart ached.

“You’ve only got a couple more weeks with us, huh?” he said, sitting up next to.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said, tucking hair behind her ear. Owen became unexpectedly nervous, the obvious indication was the whine from Blue. “Did you want to -”

“I’ve got a few paychecks for you,” he interrupted. Claire’s brow furrowed.

“What?”

“I didn’t want you going unpaid for this, at least part of it wasn’t volunteer work, but you should be paid for the overtime you did,” he said, shifting his position underneath Blue and managing to stand.

Claire followed him up. “Owen, that isn’t wh-”

“I’ll get that for you before you leave,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Can we talk about this, please?” she asked, and Owen stepped back from her.

“I gotta go train some of the dogs,” he said, turning on his heels and feeling his hands shake. God he was bad at...he didn’t even know what this was - but he certainly fucking sucked at it.

*~*~*

It was quiet that night; a shaking breath of a coming night that made Owen nervous. He was closing up the shelter for the night, making sure everything was off - almost about to close up the veterinary rooms when he felt the lack of something by his side. “Blue?” he called, and when she didn’t come, he whistled. Owen switched on the lights, wandering the shelter as he became more panicked. Outside, he called her name. “Blue?!” he yelled, and the reply was silence. Until he heard laughed and thuds that sounded too familiar for Owen not to notice.

Racing over to the back gate, he looked at the lock on the wooden fence and saw the lock was snapped off. He opened the door to the back alley to see something that made his stomach sink. His little partner in crime - the thing that kept him sane was struggling to breath and the only sound she was making was a pathetic whimper. The two guys saw Owen and dashed. Owen picked up a nearby rock throwing it at one before dashing after the other. The rock landed and hit the guy square in the back. Owen caught up to the guy and snatched him up by the collar, pulling him back to his friend and before keeping the guy on the ground with his foot. Owen held the guy by his collar, fuming with a rage only Blue could control and shook the guy.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asked, the two men struggled, one trying to move his foot as the other clawed at Owen’s defiant hands.

“Get your hands off of me!” the guys

“You just beat the shit out of my dog? For fun, right?” he said and the man laughed, “I’m an ex-marine, asshole,” Owen threatened and the guy stopped laughing. “Whatever you did to my dog, I’m going to you, ten times over,”

“Owen?” he heard the soft voice of Claire and he turned. She finally saw the scene and covered her mouth in shock.

“Call the police,” he yelled, pushing the guy to the fence, pinning the two guys in place, “if you know what’s good for you, you stay here,” he warned. And out of fear, neither of them moved until the police got there.

Owen’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking. He worried about his dog. He was having an anxiety attack. And he needed his dog. That was on the brink of death probably. He didn’t have time to talk about this shit. He wanted it all over.

“Yeah, thanks officer,” Owen nodded, turning to find Claire by the doors of the shelter, opening them up for him. “What’s goin-”

“I got Zara, she’s treating Blue now, but...she’s operating,” she explained, and Owen’s hand went to his forehead. He was barely registering anything, he felt everything and nothing all at once, but there was a definite tremor in his limbs.

“O-operating?” his voice shook.

“She thought you’d want to as soon as possible, we didn’t want to wait,” Claire said, holding onto his arm.

“Okay, okay,” he said, his breathing getting ragged as he stumbled forward on legs that could barely hold his weight.

“Rex!” Claire called and the giant dog came racing, guiding him to a safe spot and settling him down on the ground, head resting near him and licking at his skin whenever she could.

“Okay, I got to get in -” Owen said, almost standing, but Claire pulled him back down, keeping him in place. He looked at her with a shaking bottom lip and his hands bound so tight, his knuckles turned as white as the bones underneath.

“Slow down, big guy, sit down,” she said.

“Blue...is-” he choked.

“It’s going to be ok,” she said, her hand rubbing up and down on his shoulder. Owen’s hands went over his face, the shake in his limbs still present as he tried to keep himself together.

“I always tell people with service dogs that they do need to understand that their dogs aren’t forever. They’re a temporary part of your life,” he said, the tears slipping past his eyes and he sniffed. “I hate that I can’t follow my own advice,” he whimpered.

“I may not be able to lower your blood pressure, or slow down your heart rate,” Claire said softly, and her hand came to his, taking the tremor-filled fingers and wrapping her fingers around his, “but I can hold your hand until Zara is done,” she said and Owen looked at her with a heart that couldn’t calm down. He nodded to her, the tears still in his eyes, and Claire rested her head against his shoulder. He kept still with her there, Rex allowing him to breathe.

It felt like a lifetime before Zara came out, her forehead broken into a sweat and she looked exhausted. Owen sprung to life and Claire followed with Rex on her heels. They came to his side and Claire hooked her hand with his again. Zara sighed before smiling to the pair.

“She’s a little banged up right now, but she’s going to be fine, Owen,” she said, and Claire sighed in relief.

“Thanks for coming in, Zara,” she said.

“Anything for you guys,” she replied, “I’ve got an early shift at the -”

“Yeah, yeah, you can go,” Owen said, clearing his throat.

“She’s on a drip, but I’d still like to monitor her,” Zara said, and Owen shook his head.

“I can do it,” he replied and Zara nodded. She picked up her things and waved goodbye to them. Claire tugged on his hand briefly.

“I’ll get us something to eat,” she said.

“Claire, you don’t have to stay,” he said, but the scowl she had told him he should have swallowed his words.

“Don’t you dare argue with me right now,” she told him, “go see Blue, and I’ll bring us back something,” she nodded, her hand still gripping tightly to his. “Rex, you stay right there with him, okay?” she said to the dog, who was pinned to his side regardless. Owen laughed as her hand let go and went outside.

Owen went to sleeping area, Blue’s pen had the drip attached to it and the dog slept soundly. She looked so broken - bandaged covering her legs, stitches piecing together wounds and blood stains in her fur that was once a polished coat. He sat down next to it, pulling blankets next to him, and on top of him as Rex came and sat by his side.

Claire came back with a meal for the three of them - though she did prepare Rex’s when she came back with their take away. They managed to finish their dinner quickly and stayed up for most of the night to make sure Blue was doing alright. There seemed to be no problems, but Rex still occasionally whined when Owen became anxious.

Claire drifted in and out of sleep. It wasn’t until Owen’s attention came to her, did he realise that Claire was in sweatpants and a large t-shirt. She had been wearing it since he saw her - which meant she only caught them there when she was going out to the grocery story or something. They had completely interrupted her night, but she didn’t seem to mind. Owen tapped his foot to hers. Her eyes opened weakly.

“Thanks for staying here with me,” he whispered and she smiled.

“Anytime,” she murmured her reply before sleep finally took her. Owen managed little sleep, but when the next day came, the entire staff was there to take their place, allowing them both to go home and rest. Owen worried the whole time - but he was lucky that he had Rex by his side.

*~*~*

A week or so had passed, Owen’s anxiety was maintained by Rex. But Blue was healing well and he liked seeing her with her panting smiles. Owen sat down next to the two dogs, keeping them calm. Lowery was training Echo, the shelter was quiet save for the entire staff being in attendance. Owen asked them why they were all there, but they had things to do that day, with Zia having an early appointment with an old dog they had trained. Zara came for a check up on Blue. Franklin was there to see the books, as this was one of the last chances to see Claire before she left. And the other two were training their dogs that day.

The doors opened and Claire came through, a very casual look of jeans and a t-shirt with a faded print on it. Her hair was tied back and somehow she looked like a moviestar.

“Hey girl!” Claire called and went racing over to Blue. The dog wagged her tail quickly, and Claire scratched the dog behind the ear. “She looks great,” Claire said looking up at Owen. He tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Thanks for helping us,” he said.

“Always,” Claire shrugged, as though what she had done for him was nothing. He took a deep breath.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck briefly before tucking it away again.

“I did too,” Claire said, taking her own breath. He had no idea what she was going to say, but he breath made him curious.

“Do you want to go out with me?” The words that came out of both their mouths echoed, cheers and high fives exchanged between their staff behind them. They both laughed, Owen’s cheeks burning, and he saw the same redness emerging in Claire’s cheeks.

“What?” Claire muttered.

“Sorry?” Owen choked.

“No, you -” Claire cut herself short.

“You -” he tried.

Claire sighed, letting out a nervous chuckle before she straightened her shoulders and looked at him. “Owen, do you want to go out with me?” Claire said, a slow smile coming to her lips.

“Yes, a lot actually,” he nodded. Another cheer from the staff before they both looked at them and they shut their mouths but laughed amongst themselves. Looking back at each other, they both rolled their eyes, smiling anyway.

“Okay then,” Claire nodded, moving towards the back of the room where Franklin had been waiting and talked to him for a bit. Owen excused himself, going back to rooms for the dogs, and when he knew he was alone, he pumped his fists into the air.

“Yes!” Owen cheered silently to himself, Blue dancing around his feet and Rex jumping up and almost knocking him to the ground.

He couldn’t believe this life was falling into place.

#clawen #claire x owen #owen x claire #jurassic world #claire dearing #owen grady #my fics #winds of the lovestruck

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lilyvandersteen · 6 years

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Facing Your Dragons Chapter 2

This story is written for @lizzard713, as part of the 2018 Klaine fic exchange.

I combined two prompts for this fic. The giftee wished for a Badboy Blaine / Skank Kurt fic, and also wanted a dragon as a key part of the story, so I’ve tried to include all those elements.

Thank you so much for your feedback on Chapter 1! I'm so glad this story spoke to you. Here's Chapter 2, guest-starring Rachel Berry :-) Enjoy!

A big thank you to my friend @hkvoyage for looking this over for me. I'm so lucky to have you as my beta ♥

The previous installment can be found here: Chapter 1.

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net.

Chapter 2: Tell Us A Story

Rachel proved to be a pretty brunette with a great singing voice and a very bossy attitude. Blaine did as she said, and enjoyed singing with her, but secretly, he much preferred Kurt.

Again, the boy with the monotone voice asked for dragons when Rachel called for requests, so they sang Puff the Magic Dragon, and then it was time to wrap up the lesson. You couldn’t really call it an hour of entertainment, for Rachel had been drilling all the children until they were word perfect and sang in key.

When they left the snoozle room, Rachel told Blaine that his guitar playing was satisfactory but his singing voice could use some work. “Especially your falsetto. It sounds pitchy. I could e-mail you some voice exercises and breathing tips if you like?”

Blaine bit back a smile and gave Rachel his e-mail address. She was quite a character.

When they passed the reception desk, Dolores once again asked how it had gone.

Rachel flashed her a brilliant smile, said that the children were definitely improving, and swanned out of the building with a, “See you next Thursday!”

Dolores shook her head. “Someone should probably tell that one her charges are supposed to have fun. She treats them like new recruits at a military academy.”

Blaine nodded.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Dolores asked him.

“Sure. Who am I working with?”

“Nobody. You’ve seen how it’s done now. Tomorrow, you’re on your own.”

Blaine swallowed with difficulty. He’d be alone? He’d have to keep all those children happy and entertained by himself?

Nerves slammed through him, and he wanted to run like a bat from hell and never return.

“Aww, sweetie, don’t be nervous,” Dolores said. “Those children are sweethearts, every last one of them. You’ll do fine.”

Blaine hardly slept that night, but somehow worked up the courage to go back to the children’s home the next afternoon. Dolores sent him an encouraging smile and told him to have fun. His answering smile was probably more like a grimace.

When he stepped into the snoozle room, all eyes were on him, and him alone, and he felt his skin prickle and his hands start to sweat.

Music instruments. Yes.

Blaine went to the cupboard and started distributing the instruments, exactly as they had done the previous days.

The moment everyone was holding an instrument, he sat down with his guitar and cleared his throat. “So… Ahem. I’m Blaine. I was here yesterday and the day before that too. Let’s start by singing some songs, okay? I’m in the mood for Disney songs, I hope that’s okay with you guys.”

Blaine fiddled with the guitar for a bit before he started singing. Though it didn’t really need tuning, the familiar moves steadied his nerves.

Soon, he was singing his heart out, choosing all his favourite tunes from The Little Mermaid, Mulan, Beauty and the Beast and Tarzan. He didn’t notice the time fly by, and only stopped when there was a knock on the door, and Dolores stuck her head in. “The hour’s up, Blaine!”

“But we haven’t had a story yet!” a girl complained. “That’s two days without a story!”

“And Keith hasn’t had his dragon fix yet,” Ruth pointed out.

Dolores hesitated. “Well, Blaine, if you don’t have to hurry home yet, maybe you could sing a dragon song for Keith? I’ll count it as an extra hour, though you don’t have to stay that long.”

Blaine blinked at her, and then nodded. “Okay.”

Dolores flashed him a bright smile and disappeared.

Blaine turned back to the children, who were looking up at him expectantly. “We can sing Puff the Magic Dragon…”

The girl who wanted a story huffed and stuck her bottom lip out.

“…or I could tell you a dragon story instead,” Blaine continued.

The girl lit up. “Yes. Yes! The story, please!”

“What’s your name?” Blaine asked.

“It’s Louise May Brown, but everyone calls me Lou.”

“Can I use your name in the story?”

Lou nodded, grinning widely.

“Once upon a time, there was a town plagued by a haunted castle on its northern border. In the castle lived a banshee who slithered around town shrieking and touching people’s necks with ice-cold fingers and sending them depressing thoughts. There was also a dragon flying around singing their hair and setting their straw roofs on fire, and there were tons of ghosts and pixies and poltergeists that delighted in scaring and annoying the townspeople.

After a few hundred years of horrible happenings, the mayor struck a deal with the inhabitants of the castle. Every year, on All Hallow’s Eve, the town would choose one person among their own to go to the castle and spend the night there. In return, the castle’s inhabitants would leave the townspeople alone.

The first year, a few young men volunteered to go, and the tallest and strongest of them was chosen to represent the town. He left with a cheery wave, but returned the next day looking fifty years older. His hair had turned white, and he was shaking like a leaf and muttering nonsense under his breath.

Everyone dreaded Halloween from that moment on, because no-one wanted to be chosen to be sent to the castle and return like Crazy Steve, as he was now called.

Yet when the day came, the townspeople assembled on the market place, dead silent, waiting with their hearts in their throats for the decision to fall.

The mayor came and gave a speech about how much better life was now that they weren’t disturbed by supernatural creatures anymore. Then, he let his eyes rove over the crowd, and they all held their breath.

In the darkest corner of the market place, under an awning and huddled close together to keep warm, were the children from the town’s orphanage and the matron looking after them. Not all of the children were orphans. Some of them lived at the orphanage because their parents didn’t want them. Some were missing an arm or a leg, others were often ill, a few behaved oddly or couldn’t see or hear.

The mayor’s eyes lingered on them. They were a sorry bunch, he thought, and unlike the promising young man he’d sent last year, he was sure none of them would come back much the worse for wear after spending a night at the castle. Or if they did, at least no-one would care. After all the backlash he’d had for sending Steve, the town’s indifference about the orphans would be a godsend.

He pointed to one of the older girls. “What’s your name?”

“Lou!” Lou shouted, and clapped her hands in glee. Blaine smiled at her.

“Lou, you will go to the castle tonight, to fulfil the promise we made. Good luck!”

The townspeople applauded, and then went home smiling and sighing in relief.

When only the children and the matron from the orphanage were left, Lou looked at her friends and smiled bravely. “Well, off I go, then. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The matron shook her head. “Lou, you can’t go all by yourself. What if you have a seizure?”

Lou shrugged, putting on a bit more bravado than she felt. “I’ll survive.”

“You’re not going alone, and that’s final,” the matron declared.

“I’ll go with her,” said Ruth.

The matron rolled her eyes. “Ruth, you’re blind. How will you be able to tell Lou needs your help? And how will you help her?”

Ruth stuck her chin out and glared at the matron. “I’ve helped Lou before.”

Lou nodded.

“I’ll come as well,” said Keith. “I want to see the dragon.”

The matron wavered, and then gave in. “All right, then. Will you be careful? Please come back in one piece, the lot of you.”

Lou took Ruth’s hand and nodded at Keith, and the three of them set off on their journey.

The path to the castle was narrow and winding and in some places overgrown. Keith walked in front and used his pocket knife to hack through the bramble bushes so they could squeeze through.

As soon as the castle came in sight, they stopped and stared. However scary it was to be going there, there was no denying the castle was a sight to see. A white stone building that shone in the moonlight, with graceful turrets and a well-tended garden.

It was decorated for Halloween with dozens of carved pumpkins, the candles in them exuding a warm and welcoming light.

Lou described it all to Ruth.

“It sounds lovely,” Ruth said.

They smiled at each other and stepped onto the cobblestone driveway. The moment they set foot on it, something swooped down from the sky.

“Welcome, welcome!” the creature said, in a hoarse whisper.

Lou saw Keith stiffen, and stepped in front of him for protection, throwing her arms wide open. “Please don’t touch my friend. He doesn’t like people touching him without permission. It makes him very uncomfortable.”

“No touching, eh?” asked the creature. “Well, well… Sybil won’t like that. Don’t tell her your names, then, if you don’t want to be touched. You give her power over you when you tell her your name.”

“Who’s Sybil?” Ruth wanted to know.

“She’s a banshee,” the creature answered. “Oh, where are my manners? My name’s Banner. Joe Banner. I used to be the gatekeeper. Lived in that cottage over there. I was killed when the revolutionaries came and killed my master and mistress. I became a ghost, they didn’t.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr Banner,” the three children chorused.

A smile lit up the ghost’s blue-grey features, and now Lou and Keith could see him a lot more clearly. He looked like a friendly middle-aged man with a pot belly and a very round nose.

“Would you like a tour of the castle?” Mr Banner offered, and everyone nodded and followed him.

A throat-clearing made Blaine look towards the door. It was Dolores again. “Uhm, Blaine, sorry, but could you wrap it up? It’s nearly the children’s supper time.”

“Okay,” said Blaine, and then he turned to the children again. “The next part of the story will be for tomorrow, okay?”

There were a few groans, but most of the children grinned and nodded.

“Please put your instruments back in the cupboard,” Blaine instructed them.

They did so, and then filed out of the room, Ruth and Lou bestowing a big hug on Blaine before they left.

Well. Huh. I guess they had fun.

When he passed the reception desk, Dolores said, “Next time, put on a watch, Blaine. And check it every now and then.”

Blaine frowned at her. “I don’t have a watch.”

“Huh. You can afford earrings, a leather jacket, eyeliner and mascara, but not a watch?”

Blaine bit his lip, and then confessed, “Those are all my mother’s.”

“The motorbike too?”

“My brother’s.”

Dolores raised her eyebrows. “Ooh. Is he a rebel too?”

Blaine scowled. “He’s an actor. In LA. Bailed on me when he turned eighteen. Just packed his bags and left. He didn’t take his bike, though, so it’s mine now.”

Dolores hummed. “Well, if your mother doesn’t have a watch you can borrow, I have a kitchen timer here you can use. Just ask me.”

Blaine nodded.

“They like you,” Dolores said. “You might just dethrone Kurt as their favourite. Ghost stories, though? If they have nightmares, I’m blaming you.”

Uh-oh.

“Just kidding!” Dolores laughed. “Seriously, the way they were hanging on your every word, I bet they’ll all sleep like a top.”

“Oh, great,” Blaine breathed out.

“Tomorrow you’re teaming up with Kurt again. Best tell him beforehand that you have a story to finish. He doesn’t seem the control-freak type, but his sessions are as scheduled as Rachel’s.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Dolores shook her head. “I don’t get why you young’uns all want to look like hoodlums instead of the sweet polite boys you are. But hey, you do you, I guess. See you tomorrow, Blaine!”

Blaine came home that afternoon to a note from his mother telling him that she was on a business trip and that she’d be gone until next Wednesday. He sighed, crumpled it and threw it in the bin.

His mom was always gone these days. Being a single parent and sole provider meant working long hours and weekends too.

Well, on the bright side, at least she hadn’t seen his black eye or heard about his suspension yet. And neither had his father, thankfully. Yes, he’d abandoned them for a new wife and a new child, but he still liked to meddle in Blaine’s life and chew him out for every mistake he made.

So however unfair it was that Blaine got punished for a fight Karofsky had started, he was glad that at least the school hadn’t called his parents about it.

And now, after three days at the home, he had to agree with Kurt. Volunteering there was fun to do.

He grabbed an apple and a cup of yoghurt from the fridge, ran up the stairs to his room, took his shoes off and dived onto his bed.

He was actually looking forward to going back to the home tomorrow afternoon. And the best part was that he’d get to see Kurt again. The very thought made his stomach swoop, and he grinned at the ceiling.

I guess it’s time to break out my leather pants…

#klaine fanfiction #2018 klaine fic exchange #my fic #facing your dragons #chapter 2 #guest-starring Rachel #let me know if you'd like to read more in this verse #i might continue this after Puppy Eyes is finished

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antiloquist · 6 years

Text

Caffeinated Hearts

Hello, I’m back again with more self indulgent garbage!

Ignis Scientia/Reader, SFW, 5521 words. Reader’s gender is not specified and no pronouns are used for them.

When the little coffee shop you work at starts serving Ebony products, you start bringing in more customers, including a tall, exceptionally polite man who grabs your attention from the start.

Little do you know, he’s interested too.

Tagging my fellow Ignis lovers: @singergurl91 @hypaalicious @strikecommandher @thirdstreetcettin @misssarahdoll @themissimmortal @tehrevving @roses-and-oceans

Read on AO3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12922065

When your coffee shop, a little cozy place nestled in the heart of downtown Insomnia, started serving Ebony products, you expected it would bring in some new clientele. What you weren’t expecting, however, was for one of them to catch your eye.

He was tall and crisply dressed, with piercing green eyes and a stern resting expression that could probably melt stone. He’d caught your attention from the first time he’d walked in there, early on a Monday morning at the tail end of a rush. At first, you’d expected him to be just like many of the Citadel customers you waited on, impatient and condescending, but he took you by surprise.

He’d waited quietly in line for his turn, and when he’d gotten to the front, he’d greeted you with a polite smile that made his eyes light up. You’d been so shocked, actually, that it took you a solid few seconds to realize that you were supposed to answer the greeting he then offered. His voice was smooth, with a lovely accent you couldn’t quite place. If he noticed your little social slip-up, he never said anything. He simply ordered an Ebony and paid in cash. The name he gave was ‘Ignis’.

After he received his order, he swept out of the coffee shop as gracefully as he had entered. You couldn’t get his intense eyes or velvety voice out of your head for the rest of the day. Who was he? He carried himself with the air of someone important; it wouldn’t be out of the question if he were, considering you were located a mere block from the entrance to the Citadel.

You wondered if he would come back, bordering on hoping. Maybe it was strange, but… you wanted to know more about him.

And come back he did, around the same time every weekday. On the third day, you summoned the courage to strike up some small talk with him, leaving the cash register to you coworker as you moved to make his drink yourself. He did indeed work at the Citadel, though he wouldn’t specify where. He seemed more interested in hearing about you, honestly. You were surprised; most people took their coffee and left without a care as to who made it for them.

Before long, it had become a routine. Whenever Ignis came in in the morning, your coworkers somehow knew without saying to man the register after you took his drink order, leaving you to make it yourself while conversing with him. He was always polite, made for good conversation, and was utterly charming without even meaning to. After the second week of this, you couldn’t deny that maybe you had a bit of a crush on the mysterious Ignis.

A crush was all it was going to be, however. You knew you never had a chance with someone like him. He was elegant, graceful, like something out of a movie. Meanwhile, you were just some awkward barista, desperately searching for a purpose in life. There was no way he’d go for it, not to mention the world or trouble you’d be in if he complained. Just because he was nice didn’t mean he was interested.

The weeks passed, and you slowly learned more about Ignis. He was apparently a decent chef, for one thing. You had noticed him scribbling something down in a little notebook after ordering one of your to-go sandwiches; when you asked, he replied that it was his list of recipes, and that he found inspiration just about everywhere he went. You had had to practically bite your tongue to stop yourself from telling him that you definitely wouldn’t mind sampling something he made sometime.

In turn, he surprised you by remembering little details about you that you had told him here and there that you had fully expected him to forget. In contrast to so many other customers you saw on a daily basis, he seemed to remember that you were a person with your own thoughts, feelings, and experiences.

Of course, other people noticed you noticing him. Mainly, it was your best friend there at the coffee shop, who had apparently made it her grand mission in life to see you and the mysterious Ignis together. She never had any shortage of advice for you whenever the two of you were on shift together.

“Just casually drop the fact that you’re single,” she said, turning to you as she cleaned the espresso machine in the middle of a lull. It was a Thursday morning, not long before it would be ‘time’ for Ignis to come in.

“How about I don’t do that?” you shot back.

Your friend rolled her eyes. “Live a little. Ask him if he’s seeing anyone!”

“Yeah, because that isn’t suspicious at all.” You could see it now; a one way ticket to being fired, or at the very least written up for harassing a customer.

“You’ll never know until you try.” She elbowed you in the side, shooting you a cheeky grin.

You shrugged. “Guess I’ll never know.” The bell on top of the door rang and you glanced up to see… Ignis. What uncanny timing, you thought.

Before you could greet him, however, you were interrupted by your manager, who told you to grab some cups and lids from the back. When you’d asked if she’d meant now, she insisted now. Oh well.

“Don’t worry, I got this,” your friend said, shooting you a wink that left you feeling less sure than you had before.

Of course, the damned things were in the top cabinet. You didn’t know whose idea it was to create cabinets so tall even the tallest people in the store had trouble reaching, but you were definitely inclined to disagree with their design choices.

It took you far too long to locate something sturdy enough to boost you up to the top shelf of the cabinet; as if that wasn’t terrible enough, you nearly lost your balance coming down. A hard fought battle, but you emerged victorious nonetheless. Hopefully you didn’t take so long that you missed Ignis.

Unfortunately, it seemed the Astrals were working against you, as you arrived back into the main area of the coffee shop just in time to see Ignis disappear out the front door. You had half a mind to call after him before you remembered that you were at work on the clock.

A giggle to your left caused you to turn your attention to your friend.

“Disappointed?” she teased.

“Shut it,” you said, shoving the box of cups and lids at her while you took over the cash register. She took the box, smile not leaving her face the entire time. The morning rush had yet to rear its ugly head, and you weren’t looking forward to when it did.

The devious grin on your friend’s face persevered between customers, and it was nearing lunch time when your resolve finally broke and you asked her what the hell she was so happy about.

“Nothing…” she replied. “Except for the fact that I totally helped you out with Mr. Tall, Refined and Handsome.”

Your stomach dropped. “... What did you do?” Part of you didn’t even want to know the answer, but you knew if you didn’t push the question, your friend would never fess up.

“So, I may have - don’t kill me, okay? - I may or may not have written your name and phone number on his cup before giving it to him.”

You glanced around you to make sure no customers were in earshot. “You did what?” You pressed a hand to your temples. “I’m dead. There’s no way around it. I’m just dead.” You weren’t even angry at her; you’d skipped mad and gone to mortified.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” your friend said, frown finally winning out against that damned smile. “To be honest, I don’t know if he even noticed. And if he’s mad, I’ll take the heat. I’m just sick of you staring at him like a lovesick puppy every time he comes in here.”

For a moment, all you could do was gape at her. “I-I do not-”

Your friend raised an eyebrow at you. “Hmm?”

“Yeah, I guess I kinda do…” you said, heat rising to your cheeks. “I mean, can you blame me?”

“Honestly? No. If I wasn’t already seeing someone…”

You pouted at her. “Hey, I saw him first.”

She winked. “Just kidding.”

The rest of the day was filled with clandestine peeks to your phone, waiting for a text, a call, anything. It was stupid, and you knew it was stupid, but you couldn’t help but… hope? You sighed; he probably never even saw it, or maybe he saw it and assumed it was your friend making a pass at him instead. For all you knew, it could have been something that happened to him twice a week from different people and he was sick of it.

Your thoughts were still swirling around in your head when you clocked off for the day and headed home. Around 6:30, you had finally gotten home and relaxed… and then your phone rang. You nearly tripped over the coffee table leaping across the room to get it from its perch charging next to the sofa.

The number wasn’t one you recognized, but the area code was downtown Insomnia. Could it be?... You took a deep breath and picked up the phone. Worst case scenario, it was a telemarketer or a robocall and you just hung up, but best case scenario…

You brought the phone up to your ear. “Hello?” you asked, trying to sound steady.

“Ah, hello.” The voice on the other end was unmistakable. “Am I correct in assuming this is the right number?”

“Ignis?” you could only ask, dumbfounded.

A light chuckle; even distorted through the phone it sounded lovely. “The one and only.”

“It’s uh... “ You weren’t sure if he would remember you. You all had nametags at the coffee shop, and he made it a point to refer to you all by name, but chances were you were a pretty insignificant part of his day. “I’m from the coffee shop down near the Citadel?” you offered.

“Yes, but of course. Your friend was quite insistent I call you.”

You groaned. “Oh, by the Six… I am so sorry about her. She’s got this weird notion in her head that putting friend’s numbers on customer’s cups is okay for some reason?”

A moment of silence. “I do hope I’m not bothering you,” he said, a hint of hesitation evident in his voice.

“No!” you exclaimed, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I’m… I’m glad you called. When she told me what she’d done I thought I was toast for sure.”

“Why so?”

You paused for a moment, unsure if you should say what was on your mind. “It’s just… I dunno, I figured it was kinda weird and that you might have complained. I didn’t ask her to do that, I swear. I-I mean, I definitely like talking to you, but I wasn’t gonna just up and… yeah.” You lost your momentum and sat, waiting for some kind of response.

“Your friend said something along the lines of you not being able to work up the courage yourself?” There was a bit of a teasing lilt to his voice, and you dared to hope through the wave of frustration at your friend; had she really told him that?

“She’s… not wrong,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “I-I’m sorry…”

Another soft chuckle; you desperately hoped he wasn’t laughing at you. “There’s nothing to apologize for. The reason I called was…” He cleared his throat. “I was wondering if perhaps I could take you to dinner sometime?”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Was this a joke? A prank?

“I-I’d love to! Uh… I have Saturday off?”

“Saturday it is. I’m always quite busy, but I’m sure I’ll be allotted time for this.”

You raised an eyebrow, though he knew you couldn’t see it. What did that mean? What kind of crazy job did he have that had him working weekends even with the government? The weekends were when your shop was dead, because the Citadel was closed and all the employees were home.

“Sounds good. Uh, where are we going?”

A moment of silence; perhaps Ignis was thinking. “There’s a nice place a few blocks from your work. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

This was happening. It was actually, really happening; you were going on a date with the cute guy that plagued your idle thoughts. “Y-yeah! That works.” You rattled off your address to him so he knew where to go. “Um… I’ll see you then if I don’t see you at work?”

“Indeed.” There was a clatter on the other line, and another voice shouting. “Ah, I’m afraid I must be going. Be seeing you.”

“L-later,” you said eloquently.

The line clicked and you didn’t know if you wanted to flop onto your couch and squeal or call your best friend and tell her everything. Forget being mad; you wanted to proclaim your undying devotion for her for what she had done.

… She wasn’t ever going to let you hear the end of it, though.

You did indeed see Ignis again before Saturday. He was casual as ever, and honestly you preferred it that way. He didn’t seem like the type for spontaneous PDA, so you weren’t surprised in the slightest. And if he caught you elbowing your friend when she gave you a silly expression in the middle of his order, he didn’t say anything about it.

When Saturday finally came, you must have spent at least an hour agonizing over what to wear. Would dressing fancy make him think that you’re desperate? Would dressing casual come off as you not caring? In the end, you settled for something down the middle; fancy enough for a nice restaurant but casual enough that it didn’t look like you were going to a Citadel ball.

With the minutes ticking down to 7, you paced outside your front door. This was it, this was actually happening. Unless, of course, he decided to cancel or stood you up or something. You shook your head of the negative thoughts; he’d given no indication that he was the sort of person to do those sorts of things to someone, and you were damned if you were going to let your anxiety ruin a nice night out.

At approximately 7:01 PM, someone knocked on your door. You mentally steeled yourself for this, not even bothering to check the peephole before throwing open your door.

There Ignis stood in all of his casually elegant glory; it seemed he too had decided to go for somewhere down the middle line for attire tonight, and you were relieved that you two seemed to be on the same page. At the very least, you both looked okay enough for a decently fancy restaurant, you thought. A pinstriped button-up shirt adorned his lithe frame, paired with a nice pair of slacks and a light jacket. It was frustrating just how nice he looked standing in your doorway.

“Apologies for my tardiness,” he said crisply, checking the time on his phone. “I had prior matters to attend to.”

You blinked. “U-uh, you’re fine, really!” you said eloquently. “I wouldn’t call being a minute late anything to be sorry for.”

Ignis smiled softy. “Still, I said 7 and I am generally a man of my word. Do forgive me.”

“Okay, I guess I can let it go,” you teased, smiling when your jab get a genuine chuckle out of him. “Did you want to come in?”

“No, that’s quite alright. I’ve made reservations for us, and I don’t want to be late twice in the same night.” Though his words were serious, his tone of voice was light.

You grinned. “Perish the thought.”

Ignis offered you his arm as you closed and locked your apartment door behind you. “Shall we, then?” On anyone else, the gesture probably would have come off as silly or facetious, but Ignis had a sort of old-world charm about him that made it work.

“Let’s,” you said, taking his elbow and letting him show you where to go.

The walk was peaceful, the setting sun providing a warm atmosphere. Surprisingly, you found it just as easy to keep up conversation with Ignis as you did when you saw him at work.

“I hope your day off has treated you well?” he asked while the two of you waited for a walk signal to cross a busy intersection.

You nodded. “Yeah, good to not be up at the crack of dawn. Fridays are the worst, because everyone wants their coffee and for the day to be be over.”

“Endless coffee orders? I hope they haven’t bean a downer on your spirits.” You blinked at him for a second. Had he… just made a coffee pun? It caught you off-guard and all you could do was sputter out a laugh in response.

“That was terrible,” you said, though your grin betrayed how you really felt. Intelligent, gorgeous, and a sense of humor? Goodness, this man wasn’t real.

Any potential response from Ignis was cut short by his announcement that you’d arrived at your destination. You had to take a moment to not boggle at the place he’d brought you to. Of course, you’d seen it on your travels through downtown, but it had always seemed way too expensive for your budget. Were you underdressed? You subtly craned your head around to look at the other patrons through the restaurant’s glass windows; they were dressed a touch above what you generally wore on a day to day basis, but it looked like this place wasn’t Citadel Ballroom attire-worthy. Thank the Six for that, you thought.

Your grip on his arm subtly tightened as you entered the establishment, and Ignis answered the gesture with a gentle pat to your arm with his free hand.

The host greeted him with the sort of familiarity a semi-regular customer garnered; warmth, but not overt friendliness, especially not at a posh place like this.

“A reservation for two at 7:15,” Ignis said. “It should be under ‘Scientia’.”

You frowned. Scientia, Scientia… you’d heard that name somewhere. But where?

The host tapped at his register and brought you back from your thoughts by confirmed that there was indeed a reservation under that name. “Right this way, Mr. Scientia,” he said to Ignis, barely giving you more than a cursory glance before turning and leading you two into the restaurant with two menus in hand.

At least you didn’t feel horribly out of place… yet.

You took your seats and the host left you alone for the time being. Before the waiter came and took your order, you took the opportunity to look around. The decor was upscale, but not obnoxiously so. It was refined without being snooty… exactly you how you thought of Ignis. A glance up to the man seated at the other end of the relatively small table reminded you that yes, this was actually happening. You blushed and looked down at your menu, hoping to find something to suit your palate that wouldn’t bankrupt your date.

“You’re quiet,” Ignis remarked. It wasn’t a criticism, but rather an observation.

You fidgeted. “Guess I’m still a little nervous. This is a nice place. And also, I was wondering…”

“Ah,” was the response you got. Perhaps he was waiting for this.

“Your name… it sounds familiar? I dunno why, though.”

Ignis thought for a moment. “Perhaps you’ve seen it in a news article somewhere. I do occasionally get mentioned, being the crown prince’s Chamberlain-to-be, after all.”

You snapped your head up and looked at him, searching his face for any sign of a joke. “Wait, seriously?” you asked when he realized he wasn’t being facetious.

Ignis chuckled. “As serious as a heart attack, my dear.” He frowned slightly. “... perhaps I should have mentioned it beforehand.”

“N-no, it’s okay,” you said. “You probably didn’t want it known because…” You paused for a moment, trying to word your thoughts in a correct and coherent manner. “People pretend to like you to get things, don’t they?”

The slight widening of Ignis’s eyes told you you were right on the money. “Perhaps that has... happened in the past…” he murmured. You had a feeling he didn’t really want to talk about it.

“Well, that’s not fair to you at all!” you said. You then took a deep breath before your next statement. “I… I liked you even when you were just a regular customer.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow at you but said nothing. His silence prompted you to continue onwards.

“Y-you’re always super nice to all of us. Some people… they pretend we’re machines or something, just there to give them what they want.” You sighed, remembering a few of the far too many rude customers you had had over the course of your time working where you did. “You even remembered my name…”

“Is that… not a regular occurance?” Ignis asked, genuine surprise coloring his tone.

You shook your head. “I’m usually ‘hey, you!’ or ‘hey, cashier!’ on a good day,” you said, scowling.

“How dreadful,” Ignis replied.

You snorted. “Dreadful doesn’t even start to cut it,” you said. “One time - Gods, this was ridiculous - one time, this lady told me I was too stupid to even work at the fast food place down the street just because I wasn’t done with her heavily customized order in under a minute.” You chuckled at the memory; once the hurt had passed, you remembered it more as an occasion to roll your eyes over. Some people…

“That’s not fair to you at all,” Ignis shot back, echoing your statement from a moment earlier.

You smiled at him. “It’s… it’s really not, isn’t it?”

The waiter arrived and took your drink orders. Not knowing what was good on the menu, you simply opted to have a glass of whatever Ignis ordered; you trusted his judgment.

“It’s truly a shame that some people are absolutely barbaric,” Ignis said.

“It’s okay,” you said. “A lot of stuff makes it worth it. The pay’s pretty nice, the location’s good, and… some of the regulars are really cute.” You winked at him.

Ignis flushed slightly. “Come now, I’m nothing special…” he murmured, but he looked pleased with the compliment nonetheless.

“I mean it!” you exclaimed. “But I guess you know that, considering... “ You hid your face in your hands. “What did my friend even tell you, anyway?”

“She insisted I absolutely had to call you. Something about how she had to tell me because you never would.”

You blushed, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “W-well, I… It wouldn’t be professional to ask a customer out while I’m on the clock, right?”

Ignis chuckled. “Your adherence to professionalism is admirable, but… I can’t help but find myself glad protocol was broken somewhat, if I may be so bold.”

“Yeah?” you asked.

“You say I’m one of the good things about your job. What’s not to say I enjoy seeing your smiling face first thing in the morning?”

You sputtered. “I-Ignis!” You clapped a hand to your mouth to muffle the nervous laughter that threatened to escape. “That’s… really sweet of you to say.”

“I speak the truth. I spend so much of my time entrenched in politics that I hardly have the stomach for empty compliments outside of work. Though you work customer service for a living, I find your cheer to be quite genuine.”

“That might be partly because of you,” you admitted. “But… there is something really nice about making someone’s day better however you can… there’s too much negativity in the world, yeah? Why add to it?”

Ignis nodded. “Indeed.”

The waiter arrived with your drink orders and took your food orders. You ordered what looked closest to what you generally enjoyed when you went out to eat, and Ignis ordered something completely different.

You sipped at your drink, a light airy wine that complimented the slowly warming weather in the city quite well. A few moments of oddly comfortable silence passed between you and Ignis.

“Is it… difficult, working for the royal family?” you finally asked. You wondered if questions about this kind of stuff irritated him, but you were honestly curious.

Ignis took a sip of his wine. “Hmm…” he thought. “I’ve held the same position since I was a boy, so I can’t really say there is anything to compare it against. It’s… busy, but I honestly don’t think I would trade it for anything.”

“Since you were a kid? Whoa…”

“Indeed,” Ignis said, nodding. “His Majesty wanted someone to guide His Highness, stand beside him as more than just an employee.”

You smiled. “That’s actually really sweet.”

“I would like to think this is a role I perform well… even if I still cannot get His Highness to eat his vegetables to this day…”

“Sounds like your average teenage boy to me,” you remarked, wondering a touch too late if perhaps what you had said was rude.

Ignis only sighed in response. “It is how he would prefer people see him as… It doesn’t stop me from hiding spinach in his meals, though.” He smirked softly, giving his sharp features a mischievous look to them. Ooh, you liked that.

Before you could respond, the waiter arrived with your food. Yours smelled divine, and whatever Ignis had ordered looked pretty appetizing too. You eagerly dug into your meal, though you took care to not look sloppy in front of your date.

A scratching noise brought your attention to the other side of the table. Ignis had a silver notebook in his hands and was writing something down. “I daresay I can recreate this…” he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow. “Just from tasting it?” you asked.

Ignis nodded. “A learned skill, perfected from many years of trial and error.”

“That’s pretty cool. You’re full of surprises, Ignis.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Ignis asked, a perplexed frown settling on his features.

You shook your head. “No, definitely not. Gosh…” you trailed off, drumming your fingers on the tabletop nervously. Would it be too forward to say what you were thinking? Ah, to hell with it, you thought; if he thought it was weird, his loss. “You’re cute, polite, charming, and you cook? Pinch me, I must be dreaming.”

Ignis laughed, a short genuine sound that made butterflies explode in your stomach. “You flatter me…” he said. At least he didn’t seem offended or creeped out?

“I… I mean it. I, ah, I really do like you, Ignis.”

“Well, I would hope so, since we are out on a date.”

A date. He himself had said it; this was definitely a date date then, not just some casual ambiguous outing between two people.

You smiled at him. “I guess I’m just nervous.”

“About what?”

“W-well, I…” you trailed off, wringing your hands under the table and trying to gather your thoughts. “I’m just worried I’m gonna say something dumb or you’re going to think I’m a huge weirdo or something.”

Ignis chuckled softly. “There’s no need to worry. On the contrary, I find you quite endearing.”

You took a bite of your meal to quell the urge to laugh nervously. You didn’t feel awkward with him, but you weren’t used to such… earnest praise. It was clear that Ignis was a man who said what he meant.

The rest of the evening flowed better than you could have ever hoped. Conversation came easy, and he seemed interested in all of the ‘customer horror stories’ you had to offer. He wasn’t able to offer many anecdotes in return (confidentiality reasons, he’d said) but he managed to paint an image of day to day life at the Citadel that was actually far less stuffy than you expected it to be.

When the bill came, Ignis took it and you let him; hopefully you could return the favor on a future date… if there would be one. You were having a good time, but you didn’t know if Ignis was as well or not.

The sudden chill of the night air broke you from your thoughts as you and Ignis left the restaurant. Though the weather was in it’s warming cycle, the nights could still be rather cold. You let out a noise of surprise at the sudden change of temperature and Ignis reacted immediately, shrugging his light jacket off and placing it around your shoulders.

“Oh, thank you…” you said, blushing. At least getting flustered was warming your face, you thought.

“Of course,” Ignis replied, charming smile lighting up his features once more. This man was a work of art, truly. Had the Astrals themselves chiseled him out of marble?

Ignis offered his arm once more, and you took it. Though the fabric of his button-up shirt, you could feel that his arm muscles were toned, solid. Did he work out? At first glance, he’d seemed to have a more ‘nerdy’ physique, but you were beginning to think he was stronger than he looked. It made sense; if he was in direct service of the royal family, it would make sense if he were trained in combat of some sort. Or maybe it just came from hefting pots and pans around. You chuckled at the mental image, and Ignis turned his head to look at you.

“What kinds of things do you cook?” you asked him, pulling the jacket tighter around you as the wind gusted slightly. It smelled like him; fancy cologne and something faintly musky.

“I have a variety of staples, but I tend to stay with what I know the people around me will enjoy most. For example, I myself am fond of light pastries, whereas His Highness generally enjoys more savory dishes.”

You grinned. “But still no vegetables.”

“Still no vegetables,” Ignis replied with a sigh, though the smile on his face made it clear he held the crown prince in high regard, distaste for vegetables notwithstanding. “Perhaps next time we can dine in, and I can show you what I’m capable of.”

Next time. Next time. He wanted a next time. Those words swirled around in your head and you had to resist the urge to jump up in glee. It was a moment before you realized he probably expected you to say something in response. “That sounds great,” you said, trying to sound eager but not overly enthusiastic; you didn’t want to freak him out by closing in so fast. No, you really liked Ignis, and you wanted to do this right.

Far too soon, you arrived at your apartment. You had half a mind to invite him in, but you had a feeling he would refuse, gentleman that he was. It was honestly… endearing, if you were being honest. Ignis had been nothing but perfectly courteous the whole time you’d known him, and for some reason that well-mannered exterior made your heart flutter like mad.

“Guess this is it,” you said, trying to find something to say that didn’t make you sound needy.

Ignis nodded. “I’ve had a lovely evening, and I do hope you feel the same.”

“Definitely,” you said, nodding enthusiastically.

“Until next time, my dear,” he said, picking up your hand in his and raising it to his lips to kiss it softly. Your heart hammered in your throat. Such an old-world gesture… and yet it worked for him.

He dropped your hand, reluctance twinging his features; at least you weren’t the only one who didn’t want this night to be over.

Before he could go, however, you gripped his arm, prompting him to turn back and face you. Screwing up all of your courage, you surged forward and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. When you pulled away, he was blushing. The sight of his flushed cheeks and surprised expression was absolutely breathtaking, and you had to stomp down the urge to cover him in more kisses.

“Ah, I…” For once, he seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Call me,” you said, winking at him and retreating inside.

There was a moment of silence on the other side of the door before you heard him turn and finally walk away. When you were certain he had gone, you let out a breath and slumped with your back against your front door.

You… you had definitely done that. At least he hadn’t seemed displeased? And he definitely wanted to see you again, right?

Well, if he suddenly stopped showing up at your work, you supposed you’d have an answer to that… But you had a good feeling about this. You were hopeful that this could really be something.

You were three steps into your living room before you realized you’d never given him back his jacket. Oh well. It was your jacket now.

(Customer anecdote actually happened to me, except I was bagging groceries instead of making coffee)

#ignis scientia #ffxv #final fantasy xv #fanfiction #reader insert

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glasgowgirl92-blog · 7 years

Text

Lullaby: We did Good

A/N: SO! This is the long awaited next chapter wherein Jay is grumpy, Erin is emotional and Will meets his niece for the first time. There is another mini-ficlet that is scheduled to come later tonight for this series due to the fact I said this would be updated last night and it never was! The Playlist will be up tomorrow and then hopefully we’ll be back to our regular schedule of Thursdays and Fridays!

Huge thank you to everyone who has commented, reblogged, messaged me, liked this series. It gives me life. I will make a master post for this and playlist, but in the meantime, you can find Lullaby, Sleepless in Chicago, The Sass is strong with this One, The Call in the links! I’m open to prompts and these can be read in any order, and you don’t have to read them all!

I’m going to make a tagging list; so if you want added? Just let me know!

Here you go; @halsteadpd, @queseraone, @erinlindscys.

Enjoy!

Erin smiled as she stroked the 5 o’clock shadow across Jay’s jaw, his lashes fluttering open and giving her a breath-taking smile, moving so his head was closer to her, resting on her shoulder as his eyes slipped closed again and the smile slowly faded from his face. She pressed a kiss to his hairline, pulling the blankets up a little higher, making sure he was warm enough. Sharon Goodwin had organized for Jay to be cared for in Erin’s room for the time being, even going so far as to bring in a larger bed. Jay had put up such an argument that it had been decided that he was going to be allowed to stay with his girls due to fear of him actually hurting himself any further.

He’d been in and out of consciousness. The shooting and recovery pulling at his energy reserves, but he’d held himself awake long enough to hold Millie, to call the relevant people, to watch her feed. Jay had been in awe of her, so gentle, so soft. He never raised his voice above a whisper when he spoke to her; and it made Erin’s heart swell at how much he cherished their new addition. She’d been worried that he’d want a boy, someone to carry on the family name, to throw a football around with and kick one around with, too. She knew, though, that Millie would still be able to do all of those things and more, because Jay never seemed like the type to discriminate between boys and girls.

All of Intelligence had been to visit in the past 12 or so hours, Ethan and April had popped up, too. Will had gotten as far as the doorway before his beeper had went off and he’d charged back out of the room. Natalie had also walked into the doorway, but said she was waiting for Will to come any further. So Erin let Jay sleep. She let him rest his head on her shoulder and fall asleep before gently rolling him back onto his back and rolling onto her side to rest her head on his shoulder. Trying to get him to lay on his back was almost impossible, so she’d taken to using him as a body pillow in order to watch Millie as she lay in her crib. That way, Jay could still be hooked up to his IVs and Erin could still be comfortable and have the best view.

This wasn’t her ideal. This wasn’t how she envisioned bringing their child into the world. She’d thought about it, long before Bunny and the FBI. Long before he’d even moved into her apartment. Long before she even realised she wanted children. They’d been working a case, just before Justin had passed away, and one of the suspects was pregnant and her boyfriend had left her high and dry. It had gotten Erin thinking about what would she do if she was pregnant and it had become the topic of conversation with Jay during the stake out.

“If you got someone pregnant, would you leave them?”

“What?” he turned to her, that damn eyebrow raised with the most adorable look of alarm across his face as he looked at her then to her navel and back up.

“If you got a woman pregnant would you leave?” There was a pause and she swore that all colour had drained from his face before she sighed, “I’m not pregnant Jay, I’m thinking about Tasha.”

“Oh.” He was quiet for a few minutes. “I’d be there; even if I wasn’t with the woman.” His voice was deceptively soft and Erin studied him. “I’d be around, be there to help. I couldn’t be an absent father. Kids need two parents in their lives.” He looked like he was going to say more; but movement caught his attention and he’d smirked, radioing in asking permission to take them down.

Erin smiled at the memory, how honest he’d been and how she’d believed him whole heartedly. The thought rose unbidden into her mind of the fact he was here too because he’d been shot, the sheer amount of blood he’d been covered in. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t feel the bed shift or the soft hand on her face.

“Hey, Erin, babe, what is it?” his sleep roughened voice pulled her out of her thoughts as he softly wiped the tears from her eyes, wincing as he turned, glaring when she pushed him onto his back again.

“Nothing, hormones.” She tried to wave him off, sniffling and moving closer to him so he didn’t have the option other than to lay there. It didn’t stop him frowning and pulling her down for a soft kiss, though, nor did it stop him moving his arm to wrap around her and hold her close to him.

“Talk to me, we promised that there would be no secrets this time around.” Jay whispered softly against her head, pressing a kiss to her hair when she tried to speak. “I know a woman’s hormones are nuts right after the birth, I know that all the books said so, but there’s something in this. I know you Erin Lindsey.” He told her emphatically, allowing her to lift her head to look at him, so much emotion shining in her eyes and he smiled at her.

“I could have lost you. We could have lost you.” She told him, glancing over at the sleeping baby in the cot, a fresh set of tears spilling down her cheeks and over his fingers, causing him to bring his other hand to his hairline and move, the fact that she didn’t fight him this time proving the only way he managed to sit up and gently pull her into him.

“You didn’t,” Jay shook his head, “you didn’t lose me.” He promised her with a soft kiss, “All I could think about was you and how I needed to get back to you. I tried to get up,” there was a strange look in his eye, one that was far away but close at hand at the same time; as though he was trying to remember something that was a ghost in his imagination.

“You remember that?” She asked. She’d been asking for details, but no-one would tell her what had happened, how Jay had taken two to the chest. How the bullets had been cop killers. She’d tried to get it from anyone and everyone she could think of, tried to access the reports, but she’d been denied at every turn.

“Not all of it.” Jay shrugged, running his fingers through the length of her pony tail. “I don’t remember getting hit,” he shook his head. “I do remember hitting the ground, then everything is spotty. Tony was there, he looked pretty rough. I remember SWAT and the Ambo getting there the same time. I remember you speaking to me.” He frowned again and Erin blinked, she hadn’t spoken to him until he was on his way to the theatre, he’d been unconscious then.

“What did I say?” Erin asked softly, bring her hand up to trace Jay’s lips, a grin on her face at the fact that he remembered, that he’d come back to her because she’d asked him to.

“Uhh,” Jay bit his lip, trying hard to focus and concentrate, but it was evident that he didn’t know, he couldn’t pull that information from the fog. “All I know is, you were there and then I woke up.” He shrugged again, and Erin opened her mouth to speak before there was a knock at the door, causing her to turn around and Jay to try and see over her.

“I hope we’re not interrupting anything.” Natalie’s voice carried over the room and Erin shook her head, turning to sit next to Jay in the bed, a huge smile on her face as Natalie and Will entered the room, both with a couple of bags of gifts, flowers and balloons in their hands.

“I’m here to give Jay his next batch of injections.” Will told her. He’d yet to call them shots and it was clear why, he still hadn’t been able to come too close to Jay without looking terrified.

“Bite me.” Jay grumbled, moving around in the bed to wrap an arm around Erin, already sounding exhausted and Erin’s heart went out to him. She was exhausted, but so wired that she didn’t think she’d sleep for a month.

“How are you feeling?” Natalie asked, directing her question to both of them as she approached the bed, placing her bags on the table to lean in and give Erin a hug, moving around the bed to hug Jay, then beginning to assess his injuries again, Jay letting her because Erin had taken his hand and shot him a warning look.

“I’m good,” Jay said around a yawn and Natalie laughed and nodded, “I mean, you’re getting there, but you’re in much better shape. You’re a lucky man, Jay.” She told him with a soft smile.

“Most days,” Erin interjected, reaching for the bag of gifts, making room for Will to place the bags he’d brought along. Natalie laughed and shook her head, before moving over to the cot and gasping. “She’s gorgeous.” She said, eyes wide. “Can I?”

Erin wanted to say no; wanted to tell her to leave the baby and let her sleep, but there was something about the way Natalie was smiling at their daughter, something about the fact that she’d been there for Erin the second that Erin had arrived in the hospital that had her nodding and curling into Jay’s side, watching him watching Natalie lift Millie, the way his entire body tensed until the doctor had her cradled against her and she had sat down in the chair, holding Millie carefully but securely. Only then did he relax a little, making Erin smile and lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. If this is how he reacted to professionals, how would he react when Kevin and Adam eventually plucked up the courage to ask them to hold her?

“She’s so sweet,” Natalie was saying and it was only then that Erin noticed Will standing stiffly at the bottom of the bed, hands in his pockets, saying nothing.

“She is,” Jay agreed, and Erin watched as his eyes flicked between his daughter and his younger brother. “I uh,” he cleared his throat. “We uh,” Jay bit his bottom lip and Erin gave his hand a squeeze, a reassuring gesture to help him find the words. “Um, Mom’s name is Millie’s middle name.” Jay’s voice was so calm, but Erin felt him tense again with Will moved and she had to turn to rest her head against his shoulder to give her time to compose herself, so she wouldn’t break down in tears at the obvious fear apparent in her partner’s body; what was he afraid of?

Will was silent for a long time, just staring at the tiny bundle in Natalie’s arms. He opened his mouth to speak, but cleared his throat instead. “Mom would be proud.” He said eventually and Erin felt more than heard the gasp Jay took, but the only audible sound had her heart breaking at the sheer pain it caused Jay. “She’d be so proud of you,” Will’s voice caught and he cleared his throat again. “Gotta change your IV.” He said quickly, producing a bag from his pocket.

Jay nodded and Erin shuffled, moving slightly to let Jay lift his arm, his hand a death grip in hers and she knew he was using her as an anchor. Will was efficient as he changed the bag of pain killer that was up on the pole, changed the setting on the machine, lessening the dose slightly through some unspoken exchange that Erin could only see one side of.

“You need to hold her, Will.” Natalie stated from the corner of the room where she was busy fussing over Millie, kissing her little fist and talking to her.

“I’m good.” Will commented, shaking his head as he cleared Jay’s old bag away and moved the presents over to the others.

“She’s your niece, we need to get a picture with you guys.” Erin stated, slowly climbing out of the bed to snap a picture of Natalie and Millie.

“I’ll just crouch next to the chair.” Will said as he turned, crouching down and letting Erin snap the picture.

“That’s cute and all, but she needs a picture with just you.” Erin told him pointedly and she turned to look at Jay as Natalie stood, his entire body going rigid again as he tried to see around Erin to what was happening. Erin stepped to the side to give him a clear view, counting in her head how long he’d been holding his breath by the time Will had sat down in the chair, Natalie talking him through the handover.

“I swear to god if you drop her—” Jay spoke from where he was sitting,

“--You’ll do what?” Will asked, raising a brow, not paying attention to the baby, looking pointedly at Jay.

“I will shoot you.” Jay told him pointedly, “I will shoot you and not think twice if you don’t hold her properly.”

“Shoot me with what?”

“Dude, I’m not going to shoot you while you’re holding my child.” Jay pointed at him, “But I will shoot you when I can.” His threat was followed by another yawn and Will laughed. “That’s not funny, m’serious.” Jay was adamant, eyes widening when Will stood up after Erin took the picture, rocking Millie as he walked around. “Sit your ass down.” Jay’s voice was weak and Erin slowly inched her way towards him, trying not to draw attention to the fact she was about to restrain him to keep him in the bed.

“She’s perfect.” Will’s voice cut through the tension in the room, caused Jay’s body to lock up and then relax, caused a sheen in Natalie’s eyes and Erin to take Jay’s hand. “She’s absolutely perfect,” Will grinned, his voice thick with some unnamed emotion, but both brothers had the same look in their eyes. “You did good, little brother.”

Jay squeezed Erin’s hand and smiled. “We did, we did real good.” Jay’s grin was infections and Erin found herself smiling along with him; her’s lasting longer than his, however, when Will walked over to the bed and climbed up into it. “I swear to God and all things Holy, I will end your life and make it look like a goddamned boating accident if you do any damage to her.”

“A boating accident?” Will’s eyes were wide as he blinked.

“Yes. A boating accident. Now sit freaking still.” Jay hissed as Will got himself comfortable on the bed.

“I can hold a child, Jay. I’m a professional.”

“You make a habit of holding a lot of random babies?”

“No. I do have to treat children.”

“Not my child.”

“That would be unethical.”

“You need to support her head.”

“Okay, daddy day care.” Will quipped, earning himself a glare.

“I think you forget I’m military trained.” Jay raised an eyebrow and Erin and Natalie found themselves staring at the exchange with wide eyes.

“I think you forget that I don’t care about your ninja skills.”

“So you admit that I have them?”

“I never denied that you did.”

“You did, when we went to dinner with Mouse. You said—hold her damn head properly.” Jay muttered through gritted teeth, causing Will to laugh then huff and adjust his hold on her.

“I never once told Mouse to hold anyone’s head properly and having a potty mouth around your kid doesn’t bode well.”

There was a moment of silence between the two men, both of them glaring at each other. A split second where Erin panicked that this family reunion would turn into something that caused them to implode, but then they were both laughing, Jay’s hand coming up to support Millie’s head – despite it being adequately supported on Will’s arm – as the shared a laugh, a moment that Erin couldn’t help but snap with her phone, both she and Natalie grinning at the picture as the men resumed their playful banter, both of them holding Millie so carefully, despite the other’s interjections that they weren’t.

We have another 18 years of this.

#linstead #linsteadfiction #linstead fanfiction #jay and erin #erin lindsay #jay halstead #ChicagoPD #OneChicago #chicagopdfanfiction

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dcnativegal · 5 years

Text

In which Jane turns 60 in the desert

Thursday, July 25th, 2019 was the first day that we were all together, everyone present. On Wednesday, my cousin Targ (a nickname created from “Margaret”) and her mother, my aunt, my father’s only sibling, Mary Lee Lincoln McIntyre, had arrived in a rental car from Eugene airport and checked into a cabin at Summer Lake Hot Springs. My sister, Elizabeth Lincoln, drove my kids, Jonah and Clara, and two of her kids, Yuuki and Makoto, and her husband Jim, up from Reno, arriving just after noon. My cousin, Julie McIntyre, drove with her son, Shayden, all the way from Tucson, AZ. Valerie’s youngest, Arden, and his partner Maggie drove in from the Willamette Valley, and Valerie’s sister Karen arrived on Thursday from Chiloquin. Karen left on Friday, having to prepare a sermon for Sunday, so by Saturday morning, this was the assembled crew:

We had a more serious portrait shot but I tend to prefer the ‘act goofy’ photos. I look like a zombie, well fed after the apocalypse, Valerie is simply laughing. Mary Lee, age 86, is clearly game for anything. Yuuki is doing a pose. Maggie is blowing bubbles. Everyone was a good sport.

Months ago, realizing I was headed to the end of my 60th year on earth, I decided to invite the descendants of Ruth and Henry Lincoln to the Oregon Outback, Great Basin, High Desert land of Paisley to celebrate the fact of my existence. Not all could come, but a surprising number did. And the two relations of Valerie who were easily able to join us, got to meet more of my peeps.

That Thursday, we enjoyed a Mexican themed dinner, accommodating the vegan and the beef-eating, the gluten free and the ‘organic-only.’ Since July 25th was the day I decided would be my designated birthday with everyone as my captive audience, we played “Vertellis.” It’s a Dutch card game that’s pretty simple: four rounds are organized into individual and group questions. I picked two categories of individual questions: Looking back on the year, what was good, crazy, interesting… and, looking forward to next year, what do you plan, hope for, find challenging? Everyone picks a card with a question, and you answer as honestly as you wish when it’s your turn.

I highly recommend https://vertellis.com/ for gatherings of people you don’t regularly see, especially around holidays. The answers can be hilarious, revelatory, and touching. When Valerie drew a card about picking something from the past year that she regretted, she told us: “I should have bought that primer bulb for the weed whacker way sooner!” Ever the practical gal, that Valerie! Clara hopes that the immigration hearing goes well for her husband, Jose. The answers spanned quite a range, and helped us to know each other a little bit better.

Why do we gather relatives only for funerals and weddings? Or for old people’s 90th birthdays? Why not age 60?

I did feel selfish about the whole thing, off and on. My family had to spend money on the flights, the rental cars, and then the cabins at Summer Lake Hot Springs. My friend and coworker, JD, and his husband Joey lent me their RV camper, so 4 of the young’uns could sleep in that for nothing’. There were 4 Lincoln/McIntyre/Matteuccis and 4 Lincoln/Frey/Saitohs in each cabin. There was a lovely symmetry to the housing. The inside of the cabins has a southwest, rustic feel:

They are not air conditioned, and it was quite hot during the day, although as we say out west, at least ‘it’s a dry heat.’ Here in the desert, it is also very dusty. Thank goodness the temperatures cool off at night to around 50 degrees F, and there’s almost always a breeze.

There are the fabulous hot springs pools, too: here is the pool house at dusk, run through a filter:

We managed to escape the heat by going to the swimming hole in the Chewaucan River, which I’d never been to. The water is cool but not freezing, and clear, so that I could sit in a shallow spot and pick out flat rocks for Clara to skip. Even my aunt went, situated in a camp chair, safe from the water, and an elderly chihuahua named Uddha came, too. He stayed well away from the watery fracas.

Valerie and Uddha

Mary Lee and Uddha

Someone stacked rocks in a lovely sculptural way:

We spent Friday schlepping to Picture Rock Pass to look at the petroglyphs, and then to Crack in the Ground, where I’d been wanting to go. That place is magical. Aunt Mary Lee sat comfortably in the shade on the picnic bench while the rest of us went one way or another, deep into the crevasses. My cousin’s son Shayden is a confident free climber and scaled all the way to the surface. We breathed in the moist, cool air and reveled in curious rock formations.

Shayden at Crack in the Ground

Where did this fern blow in from? Way to the west? I salute you, brave, flying little fern.

Looks like a path in the Holy Land, or a Roman ruin….

“Crack in the Ground is a volcanic fissure that formed at the western boundary of a small graben underlying the Four Craters Lava Field. The Crack and lava field were recently dated at about 14,000 years old. The fissure is about 2 miles long and 70 feet deep, and disappears into lake sediments at its southern end. Therefore, this supports an interpretation that Lake Fort Rock rose no higher than this level in the last 14,000 years.” http://www.fortrockoregon.com/Crack.html

Although impressing my family with the gorgeousness of high desert Eastern Oregon was deeply satisfying, the best part of the visit was the conversations. Family lore was reviewed by Mary Lee, who lived it, and Elizabeth, who brought a copy of a bound books she had made of her genealogy research on the Lincolns and the Smiths (my mother’s side.) Jonah was asked about The Future of Film, and Makoto shared that he’s looking forward to his semester in Japan where he can improve his Japanese and get a bit more feeling about the land of his father’s ancestors. I didn’t actually have any deep conversations. I felt a little bit like a bride: everyone’s gathered here to see me (and my beloved), and my job is to play my role and make sure everyone has enough seltzer to drink, and a comfy clean pillow. It was enough to create the event of gathering: I hope to continue conversations with my sister, cousins, and children by phone with more depth now that we’ve seen each other in the flesh.

The family came in from Brooklyn, DC, Philadelphia, Virginia, Delaware, Albuquerque and Tucson, all very urban places. The empty expanses, and the star lit night sky, will surely stay with our visitors. Arden, Valerie’s youngest, was a firefighter in Lake County and knows a lot of cool locations, like the dry Loco Lake. He took the youngest generation to check it out on at least two nights. I was too tired. But from the photos, it looks like yet another spooky, otherworldly piece of the Oregon Outback.

Yuuki is the most photogenic creature that ever was, and was beautifully lit at Loco Lake by Jonah.

Beautiful Clara, and Jonah making Alkali Angels??

Apparently Loco Lake was a highlight for the youngest generation.

For the oldest traveler, Mary Lee, I think the best part of the trip was just seeing everyone. She’s lived and visited most of the planet, and reared her three children in New Dehli and Lebanon. She knows world history and writes plays about strong women, including Eleanor Roosevelt. She survived being widowed in her early 40s, and again in her 70s. She loves Italy, travel in general, gems, and her children and grandchildren. She loves me enough to deal with flight delays and dusty heat. She is amazing.

I was born in the evening of August 15th when Perry Mason was apparently just starting on TV. My father had just turned 30 two weeks before my arrival, and my mother was just 23. My mother passed away when she was 55, and my father after 7 years in a nursing home following a devastating stroke at age 69. Neither lived long enough to know my life as a divorced lesbian, and would have wondered at my choice to live in Paisley. Hopefully they’d have come around to my being gay, and as long as I have a job and am self sufficient, my father would have relaxed about the move. He’d also loved all the gun-toting, horse-riding republicans and he’d have adored Trump. Mom would have romanticized the First Nation people, and asked me about all the churches we’ve tried in our futile search for another St. Stephen’s. In any case, their daughters, myself and Elizabeth, are doing fine, and so are our five children. Mary Lee has 5 grandchildren, too. The 10 great grands of Ruth and Henry.

Ruth Turner, the descendant of slave owners. Henry Lincoln, cousin to the Great Emancipator. In that tension lies most of American History.

One thing that I reflect on as I think about the descendants of Ruth and Henry, is that we are committed to the social good, and to the arts. My sister is learning Healing Touch for working with animals and humans. Cousin Julie is an expert on pollinators, working against all hope for the healing of the environment with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Her sister, Targ, is a middle school guidance counselor. Brother Andrew McIntyre, who couldn’t come to Paisley, is a professor of acupuncture. Yuuki is an artist, exploring gender and the biracial life as a Japanese-American hyphenated human, with courage and sass. I’ve been a social worker for 33 years, now psychotherapist to the bruised and broken-hearted of Lake County. My daughter Clara is in charge of a tutoring site in Prince Georges County for at risk Latinx youth, using her bilingual skills to bring children and grandchildren of immigrants more opportunity through education. My son Jonah makes music videos in Brooklyn, living in what Beverly Tatum Daniel calls the borderlands where cultures complement, challenge, connect and stimulate each other. I asked him recently why he only dates women of color, particularly women of the African Diaspora. He says, they can relate to being of two cultures. Since he grew up white in a non-white world, he feels like a code switcher, too.

We are all in our own way, justice-seeking.

The other part of the birthday extravaganza was letting people give to me. Receiving. Valerie had been reading a book called, It’s Not Your Money, by Tosha Sliver, who’s an amazing writer using humor and an ecumenical lens. I started reading it, and found this prayer, which I inhaled into my heart for the awkwardness of receiving all the love of my family for my birthday.

Here I go, headlong into my 61st year, giving with complete ease and abundance, wildly open to receiving.

#birthday crackintheground paisley toshasilver

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