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cassiejane-writes · 2 years

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Call Me Ari

Fandom: Ghostbusters

Pairing: Egon Spengler x OC (platonic)

Word Count: 2,390

A/N: Boy, I’m terrified to post any OC content, so take it easy on me, please. I’m excited to introduce you all to my character, though! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing this🧪💚

“Hello, may I help you?”

A flat, nasally voice spoke from behind a magazine, not bothering to look beyond the pages at the person standing before her. Janine Melnitz heard the footsteps shuffle toward the front desk, but found the article before her to be much more intriguing than whatever frantic sob story the next customer was likely to have. After a while, the descriptions of the ghosts, ghouls and things that went bump in the night stopped fazing the woman, and her level-headedness told the customers that it really wasn’t as big of a deal as they thought. Anticipating another freak-out from the person before her, Janine held her breath.

“Hello. I’m looking to apply for a job. If you’re hiring- that is,” another female voice spoke, maintaining a subtle and professional composure until the end. The second sentence faltered a bit, as though the person realized the boldness of their initial statement and had to curtail themselves. Janine paused, eyes narrowing behind her glasses and peering over the top of the magazine. A woman… come to apply for a job?

The woman in question was standing stock still, with dark brown eyes focused directly back at Janine. She was thin, and looked even thinner in the large clothing she wore: a belted pair of jeans and a black turtleneck, swallowed by a draping grey cardigan that hung over her hands, just barely showing her fingers that fidgeted restlessly in front of her. Her skin was rather pale, and her cropped brown hair fell in layers. At first glance, Janine would’ve said it was disheveled, but the assorted bobby pins across the woman’s bangs gave her the impression that at least the woman tried.

“Do you believe in UFOs, astral projections, mental telepathy, ESP, clairvoyance, spirit photography, telekinetic movement, full trance mediums, the Loch Ness monster and the theory of Atlantis?” Janine slowly placed her magazine down, one eyebrow quirking at the rather unextraordinary woman. Her voice was monotone, as though this were a spiel she gave more than once a day.

“Oh, actually-”

“In addition,” Janine cut the young woman off, “Can you lift loads upwards of 20 pounds?”

The woman, whose lips had parted to finish her halted statement, gazed downward, before drawing in a deep breath. Janine waited, watching the young woman prepare her self-defense.

“Actually, I’m looking for a position in your laboratories,” she said half-apologetically.

“I am willing, however, to accept all of those notions with proper evidence.”

Janine paused again, hung on the woman’s request. A job in the laboratories? She almost scoffed at the idea, thinking of the man who ran them. An independent and aloof man, who would sooner blow up a city street than take in a lab assistant (a concept based in true fact, considering there were no lab assistants but one such avenue still repairing damages).

“Oh,” Janine began, leaning forward to look up at the woman through her pink-rimmed glasses.

“Our laboratories aren’t generally hiring, but I can place the call up to the Doctor for an interview.”

The woman seemed to perk up at that, the corners of her lips twitching upward. An interview was more than she’d gotten at three other laboratories, and those were not nearly as fascinating as the Ghostbusters’ supernatural and etherically-focused research.

“I’d greatly appreciate that, Miss…” the woman glanced down at the tag on the desk, her smile growing slightly bigger. “Miss Melnitz.”

Janine picked up the phone and placed it to her ear, hovering a finger over the rotary.

“It’s no problem, but I’ll warn ya. Don’t take it personal if you’re not hired, hun. He’s really choosy with people in the lab; even the other Ghostbusters aren’t allowed in half the time.”

She watched as the young woman’s smile fell slightly, the nerves going straight to her fingers as she continued to fidget with the sleeves of her cardigan, bracing for the worst.

“There’s someone here for an interview… A lab interview… Well, I’ll ask her…Yes, her.”

Janine sighed and looked at the woman, pursing her glossed lips in a puckered frown.

“What’s your name?”

— — —

This was it. This was when real first impressions were made. The way one says their name, their credentials, and their intentions makes all the difference. The sting of rejections from the past research laboratories had dimmed her spark, but this was further than she’d gotten before, and this was Arielle Maitland’s chance to secure the most fascinating job in the city.

“Arielle Maitland,” she said firmly to the woman at the desk, her smile returning slightly.

There were seemingly hundreds of thoughts speeding through Arielle’s mind at that moment, fighting for her attention and anxiety.

Don’t look nervous, even though you are.

Tell them about your research.

Focus on your accolades.

Ms. Melnitz is judging so harshly, that I can feel her eyes slicing through me.

You should’ve brought a resume.

Don’t tell them about the ghost in your closet that you befriended.

“What school did you graduate from?”

Arielle felt her thoughts pause with a mental record scratch, drawing her attention back to the woman at the desk.

“New York University. Class of 1982.”

As Ms. Melnitz repeated her words into the telephone, an almost puzzled look crossed her face.

“Well, yes, I suppose it’s her. Shall I send her up?”

Arielle hadn’t the faintest idea what that interaction could’ve meant, but Ms. Melnitz seemed surprised and offered to send her to the laboratory, so she could only hope it meant something positive. The twist of anticipation in her stomach seemed to grow as she bit her lips inward, glancing hopefully at the staircase and then back to the secretary.

“Mhm. She’ll be right up,” Ms. Melnitz confirmed before hanging the phone back on its hook. She drew in another deep breath before gesturing to the staircase.

“Dr. Spengler will see you. Up the stairs, to the right and all the way down. His name is on the door, you can’t miss it. I wish you luck, Ms. Maitland.”

“Thank you, Miss Melnitz,” Arielle replied, almost breathless as she hurried to the staircase and took her first steps up.

“But remember-” Janine spoke up, swiveling her chair to look at her. “Don’t take it all personal.”

Arielle felt the punch of nerves hit her again as she nodded solemnly to the woman and proceeded up the rest of the stairs. It was quieter than she’d anticipated the Ghostbusters headquarters to be, though she could only assume that to mean that they were out on business. Was their laboratory researcher not a Ghostbuster, then? Ms. Melnitz had said he didn’t let ‘the other Ghostbusters’ inside, which implied that he himself was a Ghostbuster. Dr. Spengler… Arielle fought to remember which of the men had that nametag on their uniform. She had an inkling, but couldn’t be sure in thought alone.

She rapped lightly on the closed laboratory door, shifting nervously on the balls of her feet. Behind the obscured glass doors, she could hear the shuffle of papers, and then of a desk chair. The open and close of a file cabinet, and then the sound of a man clearing his throat before speaking.

“Come in.”

This was it, for the second time. The real first impression, the real selling point. If she could prove her scientific and professional prowess to Dr. Spengler, she may just secure a paying job that wasn’t tutoring failing middle school students.

Focus on your accolades and research.

Don’t talk about the ghost you befriended.

Arielle Maitland gingerly opened the door and stepped into the lab, taking a moment to glance around. It wasn’t a very large laboratory, but it was well organized and well-lit, with assorted scientific diagrams on the walls and a bookshelf of journals, textbooks and guides lined neatly in one corner. And, sitting at the main desk was a thin man with a long, slender nose and rounded glasses perched on the bridge. His hair seemed to defy laws of physics, standing atop his head in light waves that seemed untouched by products. Arielle had to wonder if some kind of electric shock produced a style like that. He wore a white lab coat and drummed his fingers mindlessly against the edge of the table.

“Arielle Maitland?”

His voice was deep and bore no hint of emotion. As Arielle looked down at him, she could gather no hint of intrigue, dismissal, or otherwise identifiable emotion. She proceeded with caution, measuring each word carefully as she spoke.

“Yes. Hello, Dr. Spengler. Miss Melnitz sent me.”

Dr. Spengler let out a low hum, reaching for a journal at the corner of his desk and rifling through the pages. Ari drew in a silent breath before pressing forward.

“As she said, I’m interested in applying for a position here in the- your laboratory. I hold a degree in chemical engineering and cosmology from NYU, with a minor in psychology. I’ve worked-”

“Researching spectroscopy of historical landmarks and denoting psychological shifts of visitors, in comparison with newly built architecture,” Dr. Spengler finished, reading from the page he’d just found in his book.

“An interesting concept, it almost lends itself to studies of parapsychology. Though your samples didn’t go before the 18th century and avoided religious locations.”

Arielle Maitland was floored. Her senior research was being read back to her, scrutinized and even half-complimented, by a Ghostbuster. She wasn’t even sure if her own parents had made it through the published research, let alone anyone else. And yet, Dr. Spengler was drumming his fingers along the page, humming lowly as he read over her published work with narrowed, dark eyes.

“Well- pre-revolutionary sites are harder to come by in the New York as visitor locations, and I wanted to keep my research in line with non-rural areas. In addition, the research of historical religious sites may have influenced the variable psychology and verity of the interview subjects, regardless of spectroscopy. And, while I admit there are hints to parapsychology in theory, I’m afraid NYU would’ve never recognized that as a viable area of study.”

Dr. Spengler turned from his chair and stood up, slowly approaching Arielle. His looming shadow over her brought her attention to his height, and how significantly taller he was than her. His brows were furrowed as he looked down at her, studying her facial expression (which she knew, at that moment, must have been a thinly veiled look of pure anxiousness) and body language. Her back arched as she looked up, taking a cautious step back.

You blew it. You talked back and you blew it. Take the criticism and accept your failure, Ari. Don’t. Talk. Back.

“Convincing institutions is like pleading with a brick wall,” he muttered. “In the realm of parapsychology and ethereal-plane chemistry, religious sites are home to some of the most potent readings and samples in the field.”

Arielle blinked silently at him, lowering her head so as to not crane her neck toward his face. In a flash, he turned around, swiping the book off of his desk and speaking again.

“But I commend you, the NYU Scientific Journal is a competitive research publication, and mixed psychological-chemistry research is rare. From a student, no less.”

“Th-thank you, Dr. Spengler. I appreciate that you’ve read my research.” Arielle half-whispered her response, airing on the side of caution. His tone still bore no indication of where his thought process was, and whether or not she rested on the precipice of a job offer or another miserable rejection.

“I read the research that’s worth reading,” he replied, closing the journal and filing it back on the shelf. For the first time, Ari could sense a shift in his voice. Though she could no longer see his face, she could almost feel the hint of a smile in his words. She knew not to be so bold as to take it as a sign, but it did make her wonder… If he thought her research was worth reading, would she be worth hiring?

“Having a broad perspective and proper research is important, especially in this industry.”

Arielle rocked on her heels a couple of times, growing slightly more confident in the path Dr. Spengler was taking with his words. Perhaps, a slightly bolder and self-assured approach was warranted. Her tone brightened as she half-smiled at the doctor’s back.

“Well, I believe I have both; an open mind, but scientifically driven toward empirical evidence.”

“Your research speaks as evidence, Ms. Maitland.” Dr. Spengler took a pause before turning back to face her. Then, she could see the corners of his lips upturned, in a slightly anticipatory smile.

“I’ll look forward to seeing the research in this laboratory.”

Arielle let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, in a surprised half-laugh. He was offering her a job at the Ghostbusters lab, even anticipating working with her. Her eyebrows raised in pleasant shock, and her freckled face broke into a wider grin than she’d had in a very long time.

“Thank you, Dr. Spengler. Thanks. I- I thoroughly look forward to it as well. There’s a lot to be discovered, and I can’t wait to-”

For a moment, she stumbled, fighting for a professional phrase but coming up empty. With an apologetic laugh and an embarrassingly red flush to her face, she pressed on. “To discover it.”

She held out a hand for Dr. Spengler to shake, only to find it hanging awkwardly in the air, half-covered by her cardigan. For a brief moment, she locked eyes with him, her face growing even deeper in color as she slowly went to lower her hand. As her fingers recoiled with another guilty glance to the ground, she felt the man’s thin fingers grasp around her hand, firmly shaking it. Her head jerked up with surprise, meeting his dark eyes once more.

Dr. Egon Spengler had a smile, a full smile, painted across his face now as he looked at his new lab assistant and research partner, Arielle Maitland.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Arielle.”

Ari grinned widely back at the man and nodded as she shook his hand. She stepped back toward the door, placing one foot out before turning back and offering one last tip to her new boss.

“Please, call me Ari.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #egon spengler #egon spengler fanfiction #egon x oc #original character #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1984 #fiction #ghostbusters 2 #egon simp #oc x canon #oc x cc #scifi #ghostbusters oc #cassiejane writes #fanfiction writer

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cassiejane-writes · 2 years

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A Little Bit of Love

Fandom: Ghostbusters

Pairing: Egon Spengler x GN!Reader

A/N: Request for @egonspenglersweetie !! I hope you get as many smiles reading this as I had while making it. It was based on this cute song by Weezer!! Everyone needs some good ol’ Egon support in a trying time❣️

New York City was not the prime location for agriculture of any kind. Emissions, urbanization and industrialization made the greenery in the city rare, and seldom private. But, there was one small patch that was all your own; secluded, well-tended, and aromatic.

It just so happened to be on top of the Ghostbuster’s headquarters. Of course, as someone that worked there, it wasn’t the worst location of them all, it was simply a challenge of finding the time to really enjoy the fruits (or rather, flowers) of your labors.

The sun was setting low over the cityscape, and after a rather long and arduous week, you found yourself kneeling at the edge of the flower bed, sighing heavily and watering the plants. Much like the psychomagnotheric slime that had wreaked havoc on the city not too long ago, it was a well known fact that plants also reacted to human emotion. At times, it was easy to spread positivity and light to the plants, offering nurturing words and smiles.

On days like this though, it was near impossible. Instead, the plant bed was as good as a therapy room, and the plants were unwitting therapists, listening to you talk about your day, untangle your thoughts as you spilled as many words as water droplets onto them.

“But it’s fine, it’s totally fine… You’re doing great,” you sighed to yourself, making your best attempt to feign a smile across your lips.

“Psychomagnotheric flora,” a voice said from behind, echoing in the small foyer that led to the rooftop. It was deep and flat, though something unmistakably tinged the voice. Though you couldn’t see Egon Spengler, you could feel the glint of amusement in his eyes.

You bit your lip, realizing that he must have thought you were encouraging the plants, rather than providing yourself a pep talk.

“A little bit of love goes a pretty long way,” you replied, though the hint of misery in your tone told the man that it wasn’t the plants that were in need of love, but rather you.

“Positive reinforcement is a proven psychological tactic with positively correlated results. The more an action is positively reinforced, the more the action occurs,” he further noted, stepping out of the doorway to stand above you at the flower bed. He had a device in his hand, which he held toward you with curiosity. His emotional reader, for lack of a better term, was whirring lowly, indicating a negative emotional reading.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered, lowering himself to your level (though with the way his hair stood atop his head, he still had a few inches on you).

“Would you happen to be in need of positive reinforcement?”

You turned to look at him, setting the watering can down and meeting his eyes. The always-serious doctor wasn’t quite smiling, and his dark brows were furrowed with mild concern at his readings. You offered a sad smile, and shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe. I know we’ve all had it kinda rough but… it just seems like- like you guys brush it off and get back so easily. I dunno… I let it all get me down.”

Egon listened intently, placing his emotional reader in the pocket of his pants. The whirring ceased as he placed his undivided attention on you, taking into account your facial expressions, and the nerves that made themselves apparent in your tone. What he was hearing was that, yes, you did need positive reinforcement.

He drew in a deep breath, and gingerly went to place a hand on your shoulder. You could feel the warmth emanate in a wave across your neck and back, making your tension dissipate just a bit.

“Y/N, I’d say that you take things quite well. It’s natural that variables in life will affect your mood. Invariably, you get knocked down. But, you keep going.”

He took a pause, carefully choosing his words. He wanted to offer helpful reassurance, without sounding too pedantic about it. Of course, he could point out that statistically, the likelihood of them succumbing to their issues was very slim, and therefore they were stronger than they gave themselves credit for. But, he settled for something a bit more empathetic and poetic. Ray, he thought to himself, would be proud.

“Everyone is lost, in their own right. Some show it, some hide it more than others. But, metaphorically speaking, you’ve climbed mountains and swam oceans already. If you think where you started, and where you are today, you’ve made great strides.”

He offered a small smile to you, and you found the corners of your own lips tugging upward. When he wasn’t prattling like a textbook, he could be rather philosophical.

“Thanks, Spengs,” you whispered. He shrugged his shoulders, finding your own words leaving his mouth.

“As you said, a little bit of love- or rather, positive reinforcement- can go a pretty long way.”

#egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #egon x reader #Egon x Y/N #requested #fanfiction #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters #ghostbusters 2 #song fic #comfort #fluff #harold ramis #weezer #ghostbusters 1984

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cassiejane-writes · 2 years

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“You’ve Always Got Me”

Fandom: Ghostbusters

Pairing: Egon Spengler x GN Reader

A/N: Little request for @localsimpmigraine ❣️ I know I don’t know you personally, but I know the feeling, and I know how much Egon fluff makes things better. I only hope that I can help!!

P.S. - I have never written a Y/N… anything before, deepest apologies if this is rubbish.

- That day had been a long month… As in, it dragged on, and things just felt like they were caught in quicksand. The day just couldn’t end fast enough.

- At one point, it had just felt too much. The world was too heavy, and the threat of tears pressed too hard. It was time to unleash the waterworks.

- You found yourself on a battered old car-seat that sat in the corner of the Firehouse garage (it was the original seat that came in Ecto-1, and Ray refused to get rid of it, citing that it was ‘basically a couch’)

- You had your knees tucked to your chest, just letting it out. The guys had all retired to their separate tasks

- Peter was having a date night in with Dana

- Winston had checked in on you earlier pre-waterworks, and said he was going to cook your favorite meal that night (he’s surprisingly good at cooking)

- Ray had finally gotten a new shipment of books, and had retired upstairs to have a quiet night delving into the ‘Fairy Tales: Fantasy or Gruesome Fact’

- “Y/N?” Egon had entered the doorway of the garage, only to hear the soft sobs coming from the not-couch.

- Y/N.exe has stopped responding. Great, just what you need, right? The tall, dark, handsome and always-serious doctor seeing you like this…

- And much to your dismay (and secret desire), he cautiously approached you, head tilted curiously. His brows were furrowed, keenly analyzing your body language.

- It was a personal vow not to ever sit on that dismal not-couch; it was as nasty as the Firehouse was when they first found it, and he didn’t want to know who had once sat on that (and what they had likely done on it).

- But seeing you all curled up tugged at his heartstrings… Something that didn’t happen for most.

- You were such a strong person, always carrying yourself so well, keeping up with the best of everyone. To see such a falter was not only a concerning lapse of emotional stability, it was downright heartbreaking.

- Egon may not have been much of an empath to most, but to you… you had that man wrapped around your finger. He was just intrigued by you, and everything about you. To see you hurt was just as bad as being hurt himself.

- “Y/N, did something happen?” Egon pursed his lips in a frown as he lowered himself onto the car seat next to you.

- You ducked your head further into your knees, shrugging your shaking shoulders as if to say ‘not exactly something but everything’

- A man of few words himself, Dr. Spengler knew that in moments of anguish, words never quite did justice to emotions (hence why he could never find the right way to express his feelings toward you). He knew that sometimes, there was very little to say.

- Which means, he’d have to console you without having a complete understanding of the situation. Which was vague, and only mildly befuddling to the man who liked details… but he’d do it.

- “You don’t have to talk, if you don’t want. I’m here though, if you want to…”

- You were torn. If there was one person you trusted with your life to tell everything to, it was Egon. But at the same time, you knew that your feelings for him posed a barrier. What if you said too much?

- Frankly, you just wanted his arms around you. But what if he said no? What if that was too much?

- The thought made you tense more, which didn’t go unnoticed.

- “Is there anything I can do, or… offer, as consolation?”

- He’s trying very hard not to break out the psychology tactics. After all, you’re his friend (crush), not his patient. And he cares about you far more than he actually cares about his patient subjects.

- “Can you… Sorry-… Can you just… Can I have- a hug…” You were finding the best way to ask without being too awkward, or too pushy, or too needy.

- But this man. It took him a moment to understand what you were requesting (crying + knees made it a bit difficult). But when it registered, there was almost no hesitation.

- “Oh- yes, ah… of course.” He shifted closer to you and snaked an arm around your shoulders, nudging you ever so slightly closer to him.

- You were hesitant at first, trying not to seem too eager to just melt into his arms. But eventually, you do.

- You uncurl yourself and turn into him, resting your head against his chest. His arms come to hold you to him, one hand resting against the back of your head and lightly grazing your hair.

- He sets like that for a moment. For one, he himself has to take the moment to just analyze his own feelings. Because while he imagines this must be cathartic for you… god dANG is this cathartic for him.

- He’s thought about holding you for a while. And while these were not the ideal circumstances, he will take it.

- And you… oh you are melting. For one, this man is warm. But it’s not just that, or the way his chin just lightly rests on top of your head, or the way his scent (old books, fountain pens and Twinkies) hits you just nicely.

- It’s that he feels safe. In his embrace, you feel protected, safe.

- “It’s all right. This is just one day out of 365, in just this year alone. You’ve survived multiple years of these 365 days. You’ve survived days like this before. And there are many multiples of 365-day years that you’ve yet to live.”

- He pauses, because pep talks are really not his thing, but he’s trying to find the best way to cheer you up.

- “Living through that many days, especially when there are days like this, is daunting.”

- He pulls you a little tighter, and you can hear his heartbeat through his sweater vest ((because I personally LIVE for this man in a vest anyway)). His heartbeat is steady and calm. He’s not nervous, he’s not frantic. He has his undivided attention on you, and he is doing his best.

- “But I can assure you. Those multiples of 365-day years won’t be faced alone. You have a lot of people that will be there. You’ve got Ray. And Winston. And Peter and Dana, and even Oscar when he’s at the capacity for conscious understanding. You’ve got Janine and Louis, they’d drop everything to help you.”

- You can feel Egon’s lips spread into the smallest smile as he builds up to the most important statement of them all.

- “And of course, you’ve always got me.”

#egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #egon x reader #Egon x Y/N #ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1984 #ghostbusters 2 #ghostbusters fanfiction #requested #comfort #fluff #spengler x reader #fanfic

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cassiejane-writes · 3 years

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𝗦𝗰𝗶-𝗙𝗶 𝗦𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿-𝗗𝗮𝘁𝗲

Word count: 1259

TW: None

Summary: Olivia Handler and Demetri have their usual Shitty Sci-Fi Saturday, but this time it comes with something new for them: it’s a date.

The knock on the door came at 6:39 p.m., steady and sharp against the dark oak door with the kaleidoscope of glass in the center. Demetri had been on the couch, lazily scrolling with his one good hand through his social media. Lots of Game of Thrones theories and Star Wars posts, and too many ships that made his skin crawl because of its illegitimacy. The knock made the boy jump, his long legs immediately swinging off the sofa to plant on the ground. His crew socks matched the theme of the night, with funky looking planets and aliens and the words ‘Far Out!’.

Pushing himself to stand was harder with one hand, he noticed. The lean and lanky boy was tilted to the side as he stood and pulled his shirt down. It was plain navy blue with dark grey stripes, falling just past his hips and matching his dark blue jeans. His hair was disheveled, falling in messy waves across his forehead.

He groaned upon standing and trudged over to the door, turning the doorknob and swinging the door open to reveal the small figure of a blonde girl, staring softly up at him. Olivia Holley Handler was standing at Demetri’s front door, platinum blonde hair tucked into a black headband, wearing a nearly identical outfit of a blue t-shirt with white stripes along the chest, and a pair of jeans. Her light brown eyes sloped downward softly as she stared up at him, but her thin lips curled into a sympathetic smile.

“Hey slinger, how are you feeling?”

Ollie’s eyes traveled down from Demetri’s face to the white sling that held his casted and broken arm.

“Well, I know why junkies get addicted to drugs. These painkillers have taken away all feeling in my arm. But, I still can’t do anything,” Demetri sighed, his usual complaining tone of resignation evident. Ollie laughed, immediately jumping up on her tiptoes and reaching to tousle his hair.

“Including brush your hair,” she laughed, doing her best to run her fingers through his dark brown waves.

“I dunno, I think I make the rugged bad-boy look work,” he defended, quirking an eyebrow and stepping back to allow the girl into his home. She followed, swinging to the backside of the couch and placing her backpack down on the ground. Demetri sat back down, using his free hand to adjust his hair.

“C’mon, don’t girls go for the bad boys?” he asked, leaning his head back against the cushions and reaching for the television remote. His arms were long and double-jointed, able to bend backward when outstretched. And yet, leaning to the side like he was and with one arm held by a sling, he found the remote just out of reach. He muttered a small ‘shit’ to himself, before watching Ollie’s shadow pop up from behind.

“I wouldn’t know, I went for the dorkiest boy I could find,” she said with a shrug, snatching the remote up from the end of the couch and plopping down beside him. There was a rosy blush on her pale freckled cheeks, one that showed just how bashful the girl was at the status of their relationship.

----

Years as best friends, secretly hiding deeper feelings, all to come to a boiling point in the heat of an emotional moment. Demetri had just gotten out of the hospital, and Olivia was the first to see him, eyes still streaming fresh tears. He was still shaking nervously when he stepped out with his mother, his arm wrapped in a cast and held in a white sling. His grey-green eyes were pained and weary, and Olivia could feel the hurt in his one-armed hug.

It had been mindless, what she wrote on his cast. In red Sharpie marker, she’d written her nickname and placed a small heart next to it.

Ollie ♥

It was innocent, and she hadn’t thought that it would bring into question her (potentially obvious) feelings. But the next day when she’d shown up to bring him a small get-well basket, he’d hit her with a question that made her stomach tie in knots and opened a floodgate.

‘What does this mean?’

It meant nothing and everything. It was just a heart, but when faced with the question, it meant a crush that she’d had for four years, a loyalty and love that ran far deeper than the best friendship she’d maintained. And all at once, she let it loose, all those feelings and emotions. She told Demetri to his face that she like-liked him, she almost always had, and perhaps always would. She told him that when he looked at her or threw an arm around her shoulder to make fun of her height, her heart skipped a beat and her stomach did double-flips. She told him that maybe she drew the heart to be kind, but maybe she drew the heart because seeing the boy she loved get hurt felt like a knife to her chest and she just wanted to be there for him.

And somehow, Demetri’s grey-green eyes just lit up, and with his good arm he’d brought Olivia into a hug and dipped his head into her neck, his voice a whisper laced with relief and elation.

‘Me too.’

-----

“So, Mystery Science Theater marathon?”

Demetri waved his hand, motioning for Olivia to sit closer. Once hugs had begun to mean something more, Demetri had felt like Pandora’s box had opened. He never thought himself to be clingy, but there was something safe and reassuring about having Olivia right by him, under his arm or leaning against him. It was a reminder that she, unlike so many others in his life, wouldn’t leave him.

Besides… Demetri wanted the remote.

“Reptilicus or Monster A-Go-Go first?”

Ollie shifted her small frame closer to her best-friend-turned-boyfriend, handing him the remote and tilting her head to the side. Her blush-pink lips were curled into a smile full of anticipation, excitedly awaiting what would be the first movie of their impromptu date.

“C’mon, don’t you want some horror? Ring of Terror, oooh,” Demetri retorted, shifting his casted arm so that the exposed fingers could grab at Ollie’s side, going for a jump scare. She flinched with a small squeak, but it devolved into a giggle as she moved even closer, practically leaning into Demetri and grabbing at his thin fingers poking out of his cast. It wasn’t as though the two had never touched hands before. There had been plenty of times when they’d run hand-in-hand; sometimes in excitement from one bookstore aisle to the next, sometimes in terror from the bullies that were chasing them.

But nothing was quite like the feeling of being hand-in-hand and having it mean more, having it share the feelings that had finally come to fruition between the two.

“Your remote, your choice,” Ollie said, watching as Demetri flipped the television on and began to load up their first movie. The familiar logo of MST3K filled the screen after a few moments, and soon the two were singing along to the theme, swaying their heads as they looked at one another.

“If you’re wondering how he eats and breathes, and other science facts

Repeat to yourself that it’s just a show, I should really just relax!

For Mystery Science Theater 3000!”

The two fell into a fit of laughter as they leaned their heads together, his dark brown waves brushing against her platinum blonde hair. Just like every other Shitty Sci-Fi Saturday they’d had… but more.

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