#BUT YOU SAW THAT DINER SCENE SAME AS ME NO DENYING IT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

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some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected.

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead.

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily.

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook.

Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with.

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke.

Neither of you laugh.

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak.

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got.

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case.

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car.

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight.

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him.

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father. “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing.

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance.

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering.

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #mine

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wayward-dreamer · 4 years

Text

Life’s Lessons - Part 4

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Self Control

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader (eventual)

Other Pairings: Dean x Lisa, Female!Reader x OMC – Ethan (past, mentioned)

Word Count: 6,612 (thoughts, song lyrics in italics)

Part Summary: After Charlie witnesses the looks between Dean and Y/N outside the school on Friday, she convinces Y/N they should go out for drinks. At the bar, Charlie and Y/N bond, as she opens up to Charlie about Dean but also her past. After several drinks, Y/N goes home drunk and gets a little help from a friend. The next day brings a little embarrassment, but also brings up feelings within Dean and Y/N, that they know they shouldn’t be feeling.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of cheating, Mentions of reader’s ex, Talk of Emotional Abuse, Mentions of a physical incident against reader, Drunk reader, Embarrassment, Dean being sweet (yes, that’s a warning), flirting, forbidden feelings

Music: Deeper in the Water by The Lone Bellow (playing in the background while Y/N is baking scene), Wherever I May Roam by Metallica (Dean and Y/N backyard scene).

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: Thank you to everyone for your wonderful comments on this series so far! I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it! This part is a little heavier, so please read the warnings. Please share your thoughts with me, I love hearing what you all think! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics! Check her out for all your AU needs!!!

Life’s Lessons Masterlist

Y/N took off her red glasses, smiling as she looked at her students. She could see them all flicking their eyes up at the clock every now and then, wondering when the bell would ring. She found it amusing as she tried not to laugh. It was Friday and they couldn’t wait to get out of there and start their weekend fun. She couldn’t wait herself, hoping to have some time for herself, call her family and maybe go see a movie.

Unfortunately for her students, they still had some time before they could leave, using that time to take the notes for the criteria set for their book reports. She watched as they all scribbled in their notebooks hurriedly, wanting to get out as soon as the bell went off.

“Make sure it’s personal to you” she told them as they wrote. “Books have a way of really affecting us, so I want you guys to choose something that really had a big effect on you.”

Some of them mumbled an “okay” while others nodded.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and they all sprung up at the same time. It was like how smaller children got excited for ice-cream.

“Alright, don’t all head out at the same time! You’ll plow each other out of the way!” she laughed.

“Sorry, Miss Y/L/N” one student called out.

“Have a great weekend, guys!” she called out in return.

Y/N walked out of the room as well, following them down the hallway and out of the school building. She smiled as students were being picked up by their parents, getting on the bus home or their bikes and riding home. She spotted a parent of one of her students notice her, walking over to her.

“Miss Y/L/N?” the woman asked.

“Yes” Y/N smiled, offering her hand.

“Oh, it’s wonderful to meet you, I’m Carol. Amy’s mom” she said, shaking Y/N’s hand.

“Wonderful to meet you, too” Y/N agreed.

“I just wanted to come and introduce myself and welcome you” Carol said, a bright, peaceful smile on her face. “I know it’s already been a couple of weeks, but I hope you’re loving Lawrence.”

Y/N nodded. “I’m definitely warming up to life here.”

“Well, Amy’s really fond of you. English is already her favorite subject but she’s so happy to have someone like you teaching it” Carol complemented her.

Y/N beamed, her heart soaring. It was always great to hear when kids enjoyed a subject and the way you taught it.

“She’s a great student, so that definitely makes it easy” Y/N told her.

Carol blushed, delighted by the complement for her daughter. “Well, we better go. I’m sure we’ll see you around.”

“Of course,” Y/N said. “It was great to meet you.”

As Carol walked away after saying goodbye, Y/N looked around as the crowds of children started to clear. She spotted Charlie and was about to walk over, when she noticed who she was talking to. Dean was leaning against his car, aviators on and laughing at something Charlie just said. Ben was sitting in the car, waiting for Dean. She didn’t realize that Charlie knew Dean too, but she really should’ve made the connection considering she knew Cas, and Cas knew Dean. She thought about going over there, but she didn’t want to interrupt them. Plus, after what happened the other night at dinner with him and Lisa, she wasn’t sure if she should go over there.

“Y/N!” she heard her redheaded friend call out and she knew she had to go over.

She smiled as she walked over, trying to prepare herself to be near Dean again. He looked so damn good in that moment, and she was finding it hard to look at him.

“Thanks to your car, I know you already know each other, so I don’t have to introduce you” Charlie laughed, as she nudged Y/N with her hand.

“Yeah.” Dean took his sunglasses off and Y/N saw that he was looking directly at her. She was suddenly nervous again.

Dean took her in, dressed in a black dress that hugged her body in just the right way. Her red glasses were tucked into the neckline of her dress, and he had a sudden urge to see her wearing them. Mind outta the gutter, man he thought to himself as he looked away from her.

“I didn’t realize you guys were friends” she said, as she stood in front of Charlie and Dean.

Charlie smiled as she looked at Dean. “Yeah, have been for years.”

“Charlie’s like the little sister I never wanted” Dean teased, smiling cheekily at her. Charlie punched him in the arm, and he laughed.

His gaze moved from her back to Y/N. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since the first time he met her, but even more so after what happened at her house.

Charlie noticed how Dean and Y/N were looking at each other and dropped her head, smiling without them seeing.

“I better go” he said, suddenly, putting his sunglasses back on. “Lisa finished work early and we’re going to Sid and Olivia’s for dinner.”

“Tell them I said hi” Y/N told him, trying not frown as she wished he had stayed longer.

“Sure thing” he nodded. He moved in to hug Charlie, kissing her head.

Y/N watched as Dean got into the car and drove off, the car roaring down the road. She turned to Charlie and her face dropped into a frown, when she saw her friend grinning at her.

“What?”

“You like him” Charlie stated.

Y/N stared at her in shock, before scoffing a laugh. “You’re insane.”

“On the contrary, I’m completely sane” Charlie countered. “And you denied it a little too quickly, so it has to be true.”

“Charlie…” Y/N trailed off, not knowing how to respond to that.

“I think we need to get a drink together” Charlie suggested. “We haven’t gotten a chance to hang out outside of work yet.”

Y/N grinned. “Sounds great.”

“Tonight?” Charlie asked.

“Name a time and place, and I’m there” Y/N responded quickly. She was excited to go out and see what Lawrence was like on a Friday night. She knew it wouldn’t be much for a small town, but she also knew she needed to know how the nightlife was here.

“Ditch the rental at home and I’ll pick you up” Charlie said, as she started to walk away. “I’ll be there at 7!”

“See you soon!” Y/N called out as they both made their way back in to collect their belongings, before they headed home.

When she got home, Y/N relaxed for a while before she needed to get ready. She freshened up and got dressed into black ripped skinny jeans and a dark mustard sweater. She put on her black heeled ankle boots, ran a straightener through her hair quickly to get the kinks of the school day out and applied light make-up. She picked up her black leather jacket and her bag, just in time when she heard two quick honks of a car horn. She picked up her keys and walked out, closing the door behind her. She walked down the porch steps and smiled at Charlie as she walked over, getting into the car.

Y/N and Charlie made their way to the town square, lined with shops and some restaurants. Deciding they were hungry too; they grabbed a quick bite to eat. Conversation over at the diner mainly consisted of work and minor things, because Y/N had a feeling Charlie wanted to talk about personal things over drinks. After they ate, they walked down the street and past a couple of dive bars, the loud music and chatter filtering out to the streets. She felt better knowing there was something going on in this town and that it wasn’t as sleepy as a place like Rhinebeck. Though Rhinebeck did have its own charms.

Y/N followed Charlie, arriving at the place where they sat at the bar. She and Charlie sat on the bar stools, the bartender immediately coming over to them.

“What can I get you, ladies?” he asked, smiling at them.

“Gin and tonic, please” Charlie replied, smiling back.

Y/N thought it over for a second before she replied. “A vodka martini.”

“Sure thing” he muttered before moving down the bar to mix the drinks.

Y/N and Charlie both took their jackets off, settling in. The bartender put their respective drinks in front of them and then went to serve other customers. Charlie picked up her glass and turned to Y/N.

“To surviving your first two weeks” she said, smiling.

“Well, thanks for making it easy for me to settle in” Y/N smiled back, clinking her glass against hers. “I really mean it. You and Cas have really helped me and supported me, so… thank you.”

“No need to thank” Charlie waved her off, taking a sip of her drink. “So… let’s get to the real reason we’re here…”

“Oh god” Y/N groaned.

“Oh yeah” Charlie smirked. “You like Dean.”

Y/N laughed a little to herself. She didn’t beat around the bush, this one.

“Yeah. I do” Y/N admitted, feeling slightly relieved to say it out loud. “At first, I really just thought it was a crush, something that would just go away after a couple of days. Then… then the butterflies stuck around and they’re not going away. Every time I see him… I just want to be near him. All the time. I know two weeks is way too soon to be feeling like this about someone I just met, but-” she explained but Charlie shook her head, cutting in.

“I don’t think the length of time matters to Oxytocin” Charlie advised her.

“I’m not quite at the love stage yet. In fact, I hope I never get there because that’s going to get me into trouble” Y/N countered.

“Which is unfortunate because I think you two would be adorable together” Charlie confessed, a guilty grin on her face.

“What?” Y/N scoffed, not quite believing what she just heard.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… the way he was looking at you, even just for a few seconds, I haven’t seen him like that in a really long time” Charlie said, a sad smile on her face.

“Oh god” Y/N groaned, her face dropping into her hands. “Charlie, what are you doing to me?!”

“I know, I know” Charlie shook her head, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t” Y/N shook her head, taking a large sip of her martini.

“I know, and I wasn’t telling you to go for it at all. I’m sorry” Charlie apologized, sipping her drink.

“It’s okay” Y/N reassured her, patting her back. Once they had both calmed down, Y/N turned to her friend. “Oh, they came over for dinner on Monday. I wanted to thank Dean about the car, and he came over with Lisa.”

“Really?” Charlie asked, a little shocked. “She actually came over?”

Y/N nodded. “Seemed like she didn’t want to be there, though. I mean, she was okay, she didn’t say much, which I don’t really care about, but she was kind of cold with Dean.”

Y/N looked at Charlie and saw that she looked like she wanted to say something but was contemplating whether she should or not.

“Okay, look…” Charlie started, trying to find her next words carefully. “I’m just going to tell you this, and it’s in no way saying that you have to do something, I just think you need to know, now that you’ve brought this up.”

“Okay…” Y/N didn’t know where she was going with this, but she listened anyway.

“Dean and Lisa have never been good for each other. They had a one-night thing, it was great for both of them, but that’s where it should’ve ended. Things were fine at the start, but once they got past the one-year mark, is when things started turning. Two years in, it got pretty bad. I mean, Dean doesn’t know for sure… but he thinks that she might’ve slept with someone else when she went home to visit her family. Things haven’t been right for a while now. Between not trusting her and them fighting at the drop of a hat all the time… it should’ve ended a year ago” Charlie explained.

“Wow” Y/N sighed, shaking her head.

“The only time we see him happy is when he’s at work or when he’s with us and she’s not around. Hell, I don’t particularly think she likes any of us, and we’ve tried really hard to include her. She never really wanted to do anything with us and would only come out with Dean if she wanted to prove things were okay. After a while, we just stopped trying to get her to like us” Charlie went on.

Y/N couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Charlie or Cas. “Seriously?”

Charlie nodded, a glint of anger behind her eyes. “She’s never encouraged him with the business, she’s always put him down for his choice in friends. She claims it’s to make him see that he’s better than them, but she’s just forcing him to think things he never would.”

There was a long silence between them, as Y/N processed everything Charlie just told her. She and Charlie were only just starting to become friends, so she could’ve easily said she didn’t believe her. She did, though. Charlie looked genuinely hurt, which meant everything was true.

“Fuck” Y/N whispered.

“Yeah” Charlie said, raising her eyebrows. “Dean’s generally a happy, care-free guy but for over a year now, I know he’s been hurting. He just hides it behind his larger than life personality. I just want to see him as his old self again. He thinks that if he stays, maybe things will just fix themselves, but they won’t. They haven’t yet and they certainly won’t the longer he stays in this relationship.”

“Wow” Y/N sighed again.

“So, that’s all I want to say” Charlie finished. “I’m not saying you have to do anything about it, but I want you know the reality, and maybe not hate yourself so much for having the thoughts you’ve been having.”

Y/N nodded. Hearing it made her feel slightly better, but worse now that she knew what he was going through.

Another silence fell between them as Y/N thought about everything Charlie said.

“It scares me” Y/N looked down into her glass, shaking her head. “Feeling something so quickly for someone I just met. I’ve never felt a connection like this before. Not even with Ethan.”

“Ethan?” Charlie asked, confusion written on her face.

Y/N bit her lip. She didn’t realize she had never mentioned him to Charlie. “My ex.”

Charlie nodded slowly, immediately understanding. “I’m guessing things didn’t end well if you’re so far away from New York.”

“No, they did not” Y/N muttered after a sip of her drink. “He uh… he was really controlling of me. He’d tell me how I shouldn’t dress up and be too revealing, but then somehow… somehow, he’d tell me that I didn’t try hard enough either, that I wasn’t attractive enough. My job wasn’t good enough. I… I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t… I didn’t think it was something that was a problem, no matter how much anyone told me it was. I thought he’d… he’d say the things he did because he just wanted me to be better, but it was to stroke his own ego.”

“Scumbag” Charlie muttered; her face morphed into anger.

“Yeah” Y/N laughed, bitterly. “I couldn’t see it until the night he hurt me. I thought he was doing those things because he loved me, but love isn’t making a person hate themselves to make yourself feel better.”

“You said he hurt you…” Charlie trailed off, worried that she’d uncover feelings that Y/N had buried.

“Just once, he pushed me and I ended up in hospital with a concussion” Y/N said, her words choking around the lump in her throat. “Once I was better, my parents helped me get my things out of his apartment. It wasn’t an easy transition; I kept seeing him everywhere. I tried to get a restraining order against him, but his family had money and probably paid someone off, so he never got charged with one. He eventually left with his new girlfriend, but that didn’t mean it got better for me. It took some time, a year of therapy before I left, but I realized that I wasn’t going to let anyone do that to me ever again. That place… I didn’t want to leave my family but there was too much of him there. So… now I’m here.”

“I’m glad you are. Y/N, you’re… shit, you’re fucking amazing and I hate that someone made you feel like you’re not” Charlie said, quietly, her eyes watery.

“I really know how to tell a story, huh?” Y/N jested, trying to lighten the mood again, as she blinked to keep her tears from falling.

“I’m glad you told me, that you could trust me with that” Charlie said, a small, empathetic smile playing at her lips.

“I’m sorry” Y/N shook her head, feeling awful at her sudden confession of her past. “I shouldn’t have brought it up when we’re here to have a good time.”

Charlie took her hand in hers. “No, please don’t apologize. I really am glad that you did. I’m so glad I know you.”

Y/N smiled at her. She knew Charlie would hear the story and wouldn’t pity her but be there for her and listen. She held Charlie’s hand, squeezing it. She was glad to have met the woman sitting in front of her.

“You know… Dean would never do that to you, right? To anyone” Charlie told her.

Y/N nodded, closing her eyes. “I know. I don’t know how I know, but I just see him, and I know that he’d never do that.”

“And that’s what scares you, right? That he’d never do that, that you feel so much and that he’s with someone else?” Charlie asked.

Y/N looked at her and didn’t say anything. Her face said it all. Charlie just nodded, before taking the last sip of her drink.

“I need another drink” Y/N said with a small chuckle, having finished her martini.

Charlie just smiled as she flagged down the bartender.

Another drink turned into two more after that. Y/N understood what Charlie said clearly, but that didn’t mean she was going to take the words and run with them. Why risk everything on what could just be a crush? She was wrong, 2 weeks was absolutely a ridiculous amount of time to suddenly fall for someone. She was overthinking things.

She was thankful when Charlie dropped the subject of Dean, having said what she needed to about how she felt towards Lisa, knowing Y/N would interpret everything the way she needed to. She also felt a huge pressure lift off her chest when she told Charlie about what happened with Ethan. It had been a year since the break-up and since she had started therapy. Her last session before she left had left her feeling relieved. Coming to Lawrence had been the best decision, even with her situation with Dean. Charlie was amazing and was glad she spoke up and told someone who she really trusted.

They eventually moved onto talking Charlie and Dorothy and Y/N found the redhead incredibly cute in that moment, as she gushed about her girlfriend.

Y/N knew that once the fourth martini went down, she had to get home. She was well and truly drunk and all she wanted to do was sleep it off. Just forget them ever talking about Dean.

As they left the bar, she stumbled slightly as they walked down the road. She needed to get an Uber and be alone in her thoughts now, her mind reeling with their conversation but vodka, too.

“Are you sure I can’t take you home?” Charlie asked, concern all over her face.

Y/N chuckled as she shook her head. “I’m sure, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay” Charlie agreed, reluctantly. “Message me as soon as you get home.”

An Uber quickly pulled up a few moments after she called it, and Y/N got in. She smiled and waved at Charlie. “Thanks for tonight.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you Monday” Charlie smiled.

Y/N leaned back against the seat, looking out the window. She really didn’t need man drama while she settled into a new town. She had had enough of it back home in her previous relationship, that one almost ruining her mental state. She was still recovering, even if had been a year since they broke up. Memories of him and imagining him around town, even after he left, were what made her decide to leave too. The last thing she needed was to be with someone. That being said, someone could argue with her that it was time to move on and find something better, something more meaningful.

Well, that something would have to come from somewhere else because it sure as hell wasn’t going to come from Dean. As much as she was attracted to him, he was with someone. No matter how unhappy the relationship was. Her mind floated to something Charlie told her. That it was possible that Lisa cheated on Dean.

He was sweet and caring, nurturing and compassionate. Gorgeous as hell and insanely hilarious. Who could ever cheat on him? People had their flaws, but that didn’t mean you give up on a person. His flaws couldn’t be as bad as her ex’s.

The Uber pulled up outside her house. Y/N steadied herself as much as she could as she got out. The car pulling up caught the attention of Dean, however, as he was sitting on the front porch, beer in hand. He watched as Y/N stumbled up the stairs of her porch and tried to open the door to her house.

Dean put his beer down on the stoop and got up from the stairs, walking across the street. As he walked up her porch stairs, Y/N turned around and smiled at him, indicating to Dean that she was quite drunk.

“Dean” she slurred happily, her eyes sparkling.

He tried not to laugh as he walked over to her. “Doing okay there, sweetheart?”

“Sure am” she giggled in her drunken state. “Just trying to get my door open.”

Dean watched as she tried to put the key in but kept missing the keyhole. He stepped forward and took the key from her hand, putting it into the lock and opening the door with ease.

“Thanks” she beamed.

As she went to walk through the threshold, her foot caught the edge and she stumbled. With quick reflexes, Dean caught her arm and pulled her into his body.

“Whoa, Y/N” he exclaimed, cradling her to his body.

She let out a loud cackling laugh, completely unaware of her near injury. Knowing that this wasn’t going to end well if she kept at it by herself, Dean bent down and lifted her legs up as he cradled her body. He lifted her into his arms as he carried her into the house, trying not to dwell on how good she felt in his arms.

“Ooh” she gasped, as her arms wrapped around his neck. “You’re very strong, Dean.”

She couldn’t help but lean her head on his shoulder, the intoxicating scent of cologne driving her crazy.

He ignored that as he walked down the hallway and into her bedroom.

Dean gulped as he looked around, the realization that he shouldn’t be standing in her bedroom hitting him suddenly. He quickly walked to the bed and laid her down, watching her eyes flutter as the alcohol she had consumed took control.

“Have to… have to text Charlie” she mumbled, the alcohol making her sleepy.

Ah, so that’s who she went out with he thought as he took off her shoes and pulled the covers over her.

He picked up her bag and fished around quickly, finding her phone. He didn’t look in, knowing that a woman’s handbag had things in there he had no business seeing.

Y/N unlocked her phone and handed it to him, flinging her head back to her pillow.

Dean bit back a laugh as he messaged Charlie as Y/N.

Hey, made it home safe. Thanks for tonight.

He added that in because if she was this drunk, then clearly she had a great time with his friend. Who wouldn’t?

Dean placed her phone on the nightstand and was about to walk away when he heard her stir.

“You’re really sweet, Dean” she mumbled, only one eye looking up at him as her face was smooshed to her pillow. “Why can’t all guys be like you?”

Dean shook his head. She was really out of it. “I wouldn’t say that, Y/N. I’m not someone to be compared to.”

“I think you are” she said, a soft smile on her face. “I think you’re something special, Dean Winchester.”

A smile spread on his face, but it dropped quickly. She wouldn’t remember saying it in the morning, so it was best not to dwell on it.

“Goodnight, Y/N” he whispered.

“I could get used to you in my life” she whispered, as she drifted off into slumber.

Dean felt a pang in his heart at her words. She may have been drunk, but it had been a while since someone had something like that to him. He couldn’t let her words affect him like that, though. He was with someone else and he needed to make that work again.

Dean slowly walked out of her room and back down the hall. He took out his wallet and took out the Advil tablets he kept in there, leaving them by her coffee machine. He picked up a napkin and quickly scribbled a note on it, before leaving her house. Hopefully she wouldn’t remember all of that in the morning and they could avoid the awkwardness that would follow.

The sunlight from the windows streamed into Y/N’s room. It warmed the covers she was wrapped in, causing her to stir. She groaned as she lifted her head, feeling the heaviness of last night’s drinking session with Charlie. She sat in bed as she tried to recall what happened last night. Her eyes widened as she remembered, everything quickly rushing to her head.

Dean had helped her into the house. Dean had most likely helped her into bed. Dean had been in her bedroom.

She couldn’t remember if any words had been exchanged. Had she said anything that would cause her embarrassment?

Y/N slowly got out of bed and picked up her robe, wrapping it around herself. She picked up her phone and walked out of her bedroom, into the kitchen, as she needed coffee as soon as humanly possible. She looked at the time. It was 10 in the morning. She had really been knocked out last night. She walked over to her coffee machine and was about to start filling it, when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

A slip of Advil tablets and a note laid next to the machine. She smiled as she picked up the note, scribbled in all-caps.

HOPE YOUR HEAD DOESN’T HATE YOU TOO MUCH IN THE MORNING.

-D

Her stomach flipped as she bit her lip, reading over the note again. She liked his handwriting. It said so much about him.

She quickly took the Advil before she made her coffee and breakfast, two eggs and a little bacon. You had to have bacon on a Saturday morning, especially if you were hungover. That’s what she felt.

The rest of her afternoon consisted of paying bills and doing some work for her classes, once her head was feeling slightly better. She made a mental note to actually go see a movie next week with Charlie. Maybe they could invite Cas’s girlfriend along, as she was dying to meet Meg. After doing her work for the day, she decided to do a little baking. Saturday afternoon baking was something she did often back home, and she wanted to keep that going here in her new house.

Y/N decided on making an apple pie, one of her favorites. As she got all the ingredients together, she decided to make two, wanting to take one over to Dean as a thank you for helping her last night. Hopefully he liked pie. She turned on one of her softer playlists, as cooking or baking needed some kind of music in the background and something soft was good for her head right now.

An hour later as The Lone Bellow graced her ears, she took out two beautifully golden pies from the oven. She put them on the kitchen bench and went to shower, having still been in the same clothes from last night.

Once she was freshened up, she walked out in dark blue skinny jeans, a white tank top and a pink and white plaid shirt over the top. She took a red and white checked cloth and wrapped it around one of the pies, making sure it stayed warm as she walked over. Slipping her phone into her back pocket, she shrugged on a light jacket to shield her from the light breeze. It was starting to get colder and she wondered what winter would be like here.

Y/N left her house and walked over to Dean and Lisa’s, pie in hand. She was a little nervous and hoped that Lisa wouldn’t be there, so that she could talk to Dean alone. She was slightly ashamed of herself; he was technically a parent of a child she was teaching, and he saw her drunk. She really hated herself for it and hoped that they could talk and come to an understanding.

She quickly walked up the porch steps and rang their doorbell. She waited patiently for a few seconds, before she rang the bell again. Again, she didn’t hear anyone coming for the door. Even the Impala wasn’t in the driveway. They had probably gone out as a family. As she walked back down the porch steps, she heard some music and clinking sounds coming from the back of the house. Wondering if maybe Dean was at home, she walked around the corner to their backyard, the sounds of Metallica’s Wherever I May Roam becoming louder as she got closer. The sight that greeted her caused her eyes to widen and her heart to beat wildly in her chest.

Dean was leaning over the engine of his car with the hood open. He was wearing blue jeans that hung on his hips in the most perfect way, highlighting his cute butt. His dark grey t-shirt defined his physique, the material stretching across his chest and biceps. His arms and face were covered in grease from the car, but that only added to the hotness he was showing at that point. When he turned around and noticed her, he smirked which just killed her dead on the spot.

“Hey, I didn’t hear ya coming out here” he said, walking over to her, turning the music down a little as he walked past his little radio.

She blinked a few times, trying to get out of the trance he put her in. “I rang the bell a few times but then I heard you out here.”

He nodded as he jerked his head towards the car. “Yeah, I gotta work on her from time to time, make sure she’s still runnin’ properly.”

“Well, she’s gorgeous. I wouldn’t want her to fade away either, if I was you” she smiled.

He smirked as he looked at his priced possession. “Dad would tear me a new one if I ever did.”

She laughed a little before a silence fell between them, only the sounds of the song being heard.

And the road becomes my bride And the road becomes my bride I have stripped of all but pride So in her I do confide And she keeps me satisfied Gives me all I need And with dust in throat I crave Only knowledge will I save To the game you stay a slave

Now was as good a time as to bring up what she needed to.

“Dean, I just wanted to say thank you for helping me last night” she started but he waved her off.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart” he smiled.

He really had to stop calling her that if she was ever going to get anywhere with this. If only he knew what that did to her.

“I know it might’ve felt like just a nice gesture, and it was, but… Dean, I’m really ashamed and I really, really hope you don’t see me differently now” she confessed.

Dean frowned, not sure what she meant. “Why would I do that?”

“It’s just that… I’m a teacher, and I’m supposed to be a certain way. You’re practically a parent to a child in my class, and you shouldn’t be seeing me like that, like how I was last night-” she rambled but the feel of his hands on her shoulders stopped her.

“Y/N, it’s really okay. I’d never tell anyone about that. I mean, shit. You gotta let loose once and a while, too. Maybe someone else would judge you for that, but I never would” he told her, his voice calming her.

“But-” Dean shook his head when she protested.

“Honestly, Y/N. It’s fine. That’s just between you and me. Okay?” he reassured her.

She sighed in relief. “Okay.”

“Good” he winked at her.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked down, trying not to think about that wink.

“It’s just… I didn’t say anything stupid to you, did I? If I did, I’m so sorry” she apologized.

Dean remembered everything she said last night. It had kept him up for an hour and a half as her words circled around in his thoughts.

“Nope” he lied. “Though you did mutter something about finding Christopher Walken sexy.”

Y/N eyes widened. “What?!”

Dean guffawed loudly, shaking his head. “Oh my god, you should see your face.”

She reached up and smacked his arm, causing a small “ah” to leave his lips but he kept on laughing, as he rubbed his arm.

“You’re such an ass” she shook her head, trying not to smile at the sound of his laugh.

His laughter died down as he composed himself. “That was too easy.”

“I don’t think you deserve this pie now” she gestured to the wrapped-up dish in her hands.

His eyes lit up as he looked between her and what was in her hand. “Pie? You-you made me a pie?”

“Yeah, I did, as a thank you for last night but I don’t think I want to give it to you now” she pretended to be upset, riling him up.

“Y/N…” he said, looking her right in the eyes. “Please.”

Jesus. She was putty in his hands. This wasn’t good. She couldn’t do this with him. In that moment, all she could do was hand over the pie with a polite smile. She couldn’t let him think that she was wanted to keep going on this banter of theirs. That was dangerous and she wouldn’t be that person.

She quickly handed it over. “Since you asked so nice.”

His eyes and smile grew brighter, as he giddily lifted one corner of the cloth and smelt the cinnamon and apple.

His eyes rolled back as he moaned lightly. “Damn, that smells amazing. Thanks, Y/N. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome” she said, laughing slightly at his reaction. “I take it you like pie.”

“Like?” he scoffed. “More like obsessed.”

“Good to know” she giggled as she watched him take another whiff. “I better go.”

“Oh, before I forget. Your car should be ready on Wednesday” he told her.

She smiled with a sigh of relief. “Amazing, thank you.”

“So, I’ll see you at the shop on Wednesday” he said, his thumbs rubbing over the cloth around the pie. He was itching to dig into it.

“Yeah” she nodded. “Bye, Dean.”

“Bye. Thanks again” he lifted the pie as he thanked her.

Y/N smiled as she walked away, rounding the corner and disappearing.

As soon as she was gone, Dean walked into the house and put the pie on the kitchen counter. He washed his hands and wiped them down, his mouth salivating as the delicious scent of the pie wafted through the kitchen. He opened a drawer and took out a fork, unfolding the cloth from around the pie dish. He licked his lips he looked down at it, stabbing his fork in and digging up a big bite. He blew on it and shoved it into his mouth. The flavors exploded as he closed his eyes in delight.

“Fuck, that’s good” he mumbled to himself as he swallowed down the mouthful.

It had to be the best pie he had ever had, not including his mother’s because that wasn’t a fair fight. Did Y/N really have to be so perfect that she made an amazing pie, too? How the hell was he supposed to stay away from her if she did things like this?

You just have to he thought as he wrapped the pie up again, for later. You can’t keep doing what you’re doing with her.

If this was ever going to remain friendly, then he had to stop turning on the charm, even if that was second nature to him. She made everything so easy. Things hadn’t been easy for him in a long time.

Between what she said in her drunken state to him (she may have been drunk, but she still said it. So, it had to be true, right?) and now bringing him this pie, it was getting harder to resist her. He knew was starting to feel something for her, even if it had only been a couple of weeks. He hadn’t felt like this since the first time he was with Lisa. Once they actually got together, the spark fizzled out quite quickly as comfortability took over. Now, even that wasn’t there.

Maybe it’s only meant to be comfortable. Maybe the spark isn’t meant to stay as you get comfortable with your partner. Though, that didn’t seem right to him. If you were really in love, then wouldn’t the spark stick around?

He had never been more confused about what to do, but he knew what the right thing was. It was to stick it out with Lisa, and that’s what he needed to do.

No matter how much he thought about Y/N.

As Y/N walked towards her house, her smiled dropped. What happened back there wasn’t just a friendly neighborhood chat. That was more. Much more. That was something two people did when they’re getting to know each other as more than friends. That was banter and flirting and messing around with each other with silly jokes. There were looks that made her tingle all over, and polite words that comforted her.

He made everything so easy. What she was beginning to feel for him was so much more than what she had felt before. This feeling wasn’t even there the first time she met Ethan. She knew she was fooling herself when she said this was just a little crush.

As she entered her house, Y/N was determined.

Dean Winchester was not going to have an effect on her.

He just wasn’t.

-x-

Tags: @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @katehuntington @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @castiels-a-winchester @perpetualabsurdity

#Life's Lessons #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader Series #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Mechanic!Dean #Teacher!Reader #Dean x Reader Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Series #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Fanfic #Supernatural Fanfiction

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star-six7 · 4 years

Text

And You’re Someone Who Knows Someone (Who Was Someone I Once Knew)

Mikey Way x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word Count: 1909

Request: Could I request anything with Mikey? Thanks :)

A/N: I am so sorry about the delay on this one! I’ve been drowning in school and work at the moment, but I’m still thinking of you guys, I promise! Also, catch that title reference ;)

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction. No part of this story is meant to be libel, slander, or in any way derogatory towards any character’s real life counterpart. I’m not delusional; I know that these characters are simply based off of a public persona and may not actually resemble the people behind those personas. Any additional characters that you do not recognize are entirely fictional, unless otherwise stated. And finally, if you got here by Googling yourself, whatever happens next is 100% on you.

You rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet anxiously as you stood in front of the chain-link fence. Finally, a large guy with a security shirt came into your view, calling out your name.

“Hey,” he grinned when you nodded. “It’s good to finally meet you in person; Gerard’s been chattering nonstop about you for the past few days. I’m Worm, I’m in charge of most of the security for the band; I’ll take you back now.”

“Okay,” you nodded, putting away the backstage pass that Gerard had mailed to you. You were slightly taken aback by the professional quality of the whole set-up; the last time you had been to a My Chem show, it had been in a much less… respectable venue, and there wasn’t even the faintest idea of guards and backstage passes. Something told you that the security probably wasn’t the only thing that had changed over the last few years...

While you were lost in your thoughts, Worm had led you through a back parking lot filled with big box trucks and busy stage crews right to the band’s bus. He punched in a key-code, and grandly guided you up the steps.

“Gerard, your esteemed guest has arrived!” He winked good-naturedly at you, and then turned to leave. “Soundcheck at four, please attempt to think about being there in some semblance of a timely manner.” He rolled his eyes as he exited the bus.

Gerard, of course, didn’t hear him because he was too busy leaping off the couch so he could tackle you. “You’re here!”

“Yes,” you grinned, attempting to pat his back and keep your balance at the same time. “It’s been so long, Gerard, how are you?”

He let go and returned your smile. “I’ve been great, really great. A lot better than I was the last time we met. Um,” he ran a hand through his close-cropped white hair, and glanced sideways at Mikey. “You remember Ray and Mikey, right?”

“Of course,” you grinned at them. “How could I not? I did go to all of your shows for a year.”

“Well, uh, Otter ended up leaving after we finished recording Three Cheers, so that’s Bob- say hi, Bob- oh! And you remember Pencey, right? Well, Frankie’s with us now, and I think that about covers it.”

You waved at them. You remembered Frank’s wild nature, not surprised that he fit in so well with My Chem, and Bob seemed nice enough. All of the guys seemed genuinely excited about your presence, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that there were some conspiratorial glances and nudges being thrown around by everyone except Mikey. In fact, the bassist in question was doing his best to look artfully bored from his place on the couch and ignore Frank’s not-so-subtle shoving. Still, you felt a certain tug towards him, even after all these years.

“C’mon!” Gerard said brightly, snapping you out of your observations. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a whirlwind of wandering the bus park and venue with Gerard, watching the guys soundcheck from the nosebleeds, and dining on pizza in the green room. You were so glad you had been able to make it to a show; Gerard was one of your closest friends, and it had been a couple of years since you had last met.

Your friendship had started during your senior year of college- you had both had an internship in the same building, albeit for different companies and lines of work. Since then, you had bonded over several of your shared interests and kept in touch, leading you to go to several of the first My Chem shows, and by extension, meet Ray, Frank, and Mikey. Though your busy work life and their crazy tour schedule had caused you to drift apart, it felt like no time had passed at all as you watched Ray swat Frank for stealing his pizza while Gerard and Mikey laughed uncontrollably at Ray’s exasperated expression.

Soon enough, it was time for them to go onstage, which became evident when the venue’s stage manager knocked on the door to lead them to the curtain. Worm reappeared and guided you to the seat marked on your ticket from Gerard- a center stage view from the very first row of actual seats behind the pit. Clearly, Gerard had wanted to make sure you didn’t miss a single part of the show.

The lights dimmed, and you watched two crewmembers dressed as doctors and nurses wheel out a covered gurney while the sound of a heartbeat monitor played over the sound system. You were unsurprised when Gerard leapt out of the gurney moments later, kicking off the show.

You already knew the guys were awe-inspiring onstage- you had known it from the way you felt the first time you saw them live- but it was clear to see that over the past few years, they had taken it to a whole new level. They had each grown into their stage personas and their identity as a band, but your eyes kept drifting to one member in particular...

You had noticed it earlier today, but Mikey had definitely evolved since the last time you had met. He seemed much more sure of himself onstage; instead of retreating to the space almost directly behind Gerard, he often came up to the edge of the stage or interacted with his bandmates. He also seemed more relaxed off stage, easily interacting with fans outside of the venue and joking before the show with the rest of the band and crew. You couldn’t deny that he was a far cry from Gerard’s shy, slightly awkward, little brother you had met all those years ago.

Before you knew it, the show was over, and Frank was insisting on heading to a nearby diner for several plates of french fries and milkshakes. You glanced at your watch and balked. “Shit… I’m sorry guys, it’s almost 1am and I didn’t get a hotel. I think I’m going to start the drive home.”

Frank and Gerard glanced at each other, and then they rushed to stop you. “Don’t be ridiculous, come with us and you can just stay on the bus!”

“I don’t want to take up anyone’s space…” You hemmed.

“It’s fine!” Ray insisted. “Don’t even worry about it, you can sleep in the back lounge, it’s honestly very nice.”

Though you were suspicious of their enthusiasm, you accepted their offer with a shrug and followed the rest of the group in their search for a 24 hour diner.

…

You sighed as you took off your shoes and settled into the bed in the back lounge. You were exhausted; the long day of walking, dancing, and socializing was starting to catch up to you. However, just as soon as you had stretched out across the soft surface and closed you, you were startled upright by the sound of yelling coming from the bunk area just behind the lounge door. Confused, you opened it to see Mikey, looking irate, and Frank looking guilty yet slightly pleased with himself.

“What the actual fuck, Frank?” Mikey glared accusingly at him.

“I’m really sorry Mikey, it was-”

“An accident? Frank, we all know you’re clumsy as fuck, but there’s absolutely no way someone pours an entire liter of soda directly on my bunk on accident!”

“Oh shit,” you said, stepping out of the doorway to assess the damage.

Mikey glanced at you. “Sorry if I woke you up, Frank’s just being ridiculous.”

“Mikey, I don’t think you’re gonna be able to sleep here tonight,” Ray said, gently prodding Mikey’s mattress. “It’s pretty soaked.”

“Oh, well, of course,” Mikey sighed irritably. “Well, couch it is, then.”

“Actually,” Gerard piped up, oh-so-helpfully, “there’s plenty of space in the back lounge.” He turned to you. “If you’re okay with sharing, that is.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out his plan here. You were pretty sure that if he could bat his eyelashes right now, he would. Ignoring your suddenly accelerating heart rate, you turned back to Mikey.

“I don’t mind sharing, it is your bus after all,” you shrugged, glancing at Mikey. “Gerard’s right, there’s plenty of room.”

The other three looked extremely pleased with themselves.

“Thank you,” he told you, before turning to glare at Frank and head into the bathroom to change.

A few minutes later, you were in the back lounge again, somewhat awkwardly laying on one half of the double bed as you waited for Mikey to turn off the lights and get settled.

He looked abashed as he stretched out on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m sorry for snapping back there,” he said. “It’s just… the guys have been making fun of me for the past few days and it gets old fast.”

“I understand, it's okay,” you nodded, as you watched his silhouette shift closer to you in the dark.

He gave you a considering look. “It’s just… I told them something personal and they couldn’t just leave it alone. Honestly, this whole weekend has been sort of a set up.”

You rolled over to look at him properly as everything began to fall into place. Frank and Gerard’s insistence that you should stay the night, Frank’s “clumsiness,” Gerard’s helpful suggestions, the general feeling that something was going on behind the scenes…

“Oh,” you said, hoping he would confirm your suspicions, “what do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that,” for a moment, it seemed like the endearing shyness of the Mikey you had met in Gerard’s basement was back. “Okay, like.” He took a steadying breath. “I’m working on building my confidence, so I’m gonna tell you this and hope for this best. I’ve… had a thing for you for a while, if it wasn’t already obvious. I mean, at first, it was just a crush… but as the years went on, and I- we grew up, I’ve realized it’s more than that. I know I’m still working on being stable, but I want to take that chance with you. I mean, if you feel the same way of course.” He paused. “Wow, that was a weight off my chest.”

You stared at him, opening your mouth to speak and then closing it as you parsed your thoughts. You had always felt a certain fondness for Mikey, and the past day had shown you that, over the course of a few years, it had grown into something more than friendship. You couldn’t deny that you also had feelings towards Mikey, and that seeing his new-found confidence and sense of self had only solidified them.

“Um, you’re not like, pissed, are you?”

His timid question snapped you out of your reverie.

“No, of course not!” you rushed to assure him. “I… I feel the same way, Mikey. I think I always have.”

“Oh!” He couldn’t keep the small grin off of his face. “So then I guess you don’t mind if I do this then, right?” He moved in closer to you and wrapped his free arm around your waist, effectively pulling you into his chest.

You smiled, warm with the feeling that things had finally fallen into place. “Good guess,” you sighed, already beginning to fall asleep.

“One more thing,” Mikey paused.

“Hm?”

“Under no circumstances can the others know that their evil plan worked.” “Deal.”

#mikey way #mikey way imagine #mikey way x reader #mcr imagine #mcr x reader #mcr #my chemical romance #my chem #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance x reader #bandom #bandom imagine #imagine #x reader #reader insert

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grazieschillivera · 4 years

Text

Being part of the Boys would include...

Being part of the group and living with them would include...

spending your spare time with Kimiko doing your nails.When you knew you had to move in their hide out you made sure to bring some new nail polish for her

When walking past M&M you could see, that he watched Outlander and did a rather poor job in hidding that.You recognised the scene and couldn't help yourself and sneak up on him.He noticed you and closed his laptop immediatly.You shook your head with a wide smile and only told him that episode 13 would blow his mind.

Having a strange (almost) encounter with Billy when you thought you had a moment of your own in the hide out and could use your alone time to check yourself properly in the mirror.Fully naked you stood there before you would take a shower, thats when you realized the open bathroom door.In complete shock you hide behind it and peeked out into the living room to see if someone was there ,who might have seen you.Your stomach droped when you saw Billy walking the stairs up to go outside , leaving you unsure wether he saw you or not.You would avoid him for the rest of the day when you noticed your cheeks became red whenever he made eyecontact with you

Getting in trouble with Billy when you turned the music too loud for his liking.Thats when you started to listen music only with your headphones and you made sure to show up your good progress by dancing infront of him or past him through the hideout,earning grumble or an eyerolling -but Frenchie could swear he saw a smile spread across Billys lips now and then.

The only time music played in the hideout was when Kimiko and Frenchie ended up dancing with one another, you and Billy just came in with some groceries and saw this unexpected scenario

→ Originally it was Billys routine to just drive to a diner near by and spend there as much time as possible, whenever he had to get out of the hideout - this time he took you with him since you had nowhere else to go.

,,That's such a good idea.How often did you do that without taking me with you?'' you asked a bit dissapointed and you were it even more, when he gave you a list of situations.

,,Even that time with Hughie and Starlight?Fuck of Billy, I had to stay in the bathroom for hours and had to listen to all of that!'' you said.,,Hours?Mhm not bad.''

,,Am I also on your list?'' you asked a bit afraid.,,Depends love, is there something special that should be on my list?'' he asked with a grin but you just shocked your head and tried to play cool.

From there on you both made this to your routine and sometimes even hoped to get an excuse to drive to the diner again

You weren't a huge fan of bad language but you had to admit that you got used to some of it escepcially through Billy. When you were in the right mood you would greet the group in the morning with a sweet ,,Oi you cunts.'' laughing at yourself about this way of talking.While you did a poor job on imitating Billy, he did the same to you and would sometimes immitate you, with greeting the boys extra nicely asking if they slept well and offering them help in your usual manner and voice.

One evening you had a blackout in your hideout , your idea was it to go early to bed but the boys came up with the idea to play some poker, since they couldn't keep up working on their new plans properbly or watch outlander.After some persuasion and instructions you ended up giving it a try.

,,I bet Y/N lies right now about her cards.'' said Hughie

,,What makes you think that?'', you asked.

,,You need way too long to give an answer or to make a decision'' he said.

,,Oh that's such a cheap shot.Thats my first round!Since when is my incompetence suspicious?'' you asked earning laughter from all sides.

,,I bet Hughie here just needs to lie to distract from his nervous eyebrows.'' you said and explained whenever Hughie had to lie his eyebrows would twitch now and then. Hughie denied that until you asked him if he and Starlight had sex in the livingroom last week and his eyebrows actually twitched despite his efforts.

Full of disbelieve that your theory seemed to turn out right you looked to Billy, who was actually impressed and switched his grin in Hughies direction but still keeped an eye on you.

M&M asked in disgust if they also fucked on the desk they sat on right now and cried out when Hughie couldn't hide his eyebrows.,,Nooo Hughie I might have sperm from a minor on me now, I could end up in jail for that.'' you said slightly disgusted but still couldn't stop giggling about how chaotic this group was.

Thats how you could beat at least Hughie after you were also out – since Hughie was also right.

Listen to music with Hughie, comparing your almost similar music taste and argue what song was the better one – whenever you couldn't end your argument and you needed someone to give a third opinion, you lost most of the time due to the fact that you outed your parents as Phil Collins fans , which gave especially Billy a knockout – argument why your music taste might not be the best.You would always curse in disbelieve when he played that card, earning his familiar grin.

Since you had to sleep on the couch you sometimes had the problem that someone of the group wanted to watch TV, while you just wanted your sleep.One time Billy spend almost the whole night infront of the TV.You tried your best to fall asleep but it wouldn't work with Billy sitting right beside you.You would try to convince him to go to sleep but he wouldn't listen to you, he seemed really tense and far away with his thoughts.You sat up and brewed some tea and started some smalltalk to distract Billy from his thoughts.You knew he had struggel handeling his anger sometimes.After some time Billy and you talked about every possible topic but the news and everything related to that until you became less communicative occupied with not falling asleep before him.Billy talked about Hughie and that he was far too good for all this bullshit here , while you tried really hard not to fall asleep, you were far too happy about the fact that Billy opened so much up.But despite your efforts Billy noticed your struggles and let you know that you could go to sleep.That was all you needed to stop fighting against your tiredness.The last thing you memorised from that night was how Billy laid you back on the couch and stroked your shoulder before he went away.

#the boys #the boys imagine #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #billy butcher imagine

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double-yellows · 2 years

Text

2022 F1 Drivers as Lesser-Known Animal Crossing Villagers, Part 1

I’ve decided to be the fun and silly I want to see on the dash (rather than frickin’ bodyshaming and fandom meltdowns), AND I wasn’t going to be able to do any real work until I got this idea out of my head, so this is my offering to F1blr today. Basically all I’ve been doing on my vacation is reading up on F1 and playing Animal Crossing New Horizons (thanks but no thanks omicron variant), might as well smash two great tastes together.

I made these with MS Paint and my weirdo brain, you’ve been warned <3. Took my a shocking amount of time to assign characters to drivers, given that I wanted to avoid all the obvious ACNH faves, so I’m just posting a few today - trust me tho, I’ve got most of the grid figured out and I'll post more parts as I'm feelin' it.

This is the pairing that set me on this dark path. Look at Beardo - that bear is a FATHER and you won’t convince me otherwise. Dare I say he’s also a daddy? I can see certain parts of the fandom coming this way with torches and pitchforks, so I gotta bounce, but if you know, you know.

Sometimes, when you’re #blessed with strong brows, they can make you look a little grumpy and angry when you’re just thinking about what you’re gonna eat for dinner after work. Buck looks like he’s permanently ticked off, but behind those brows is a whole sweetie who’s a big nerd. And boi if that ain’t Lance too (although let’s be real, sometimes Lance is just ticked off lol).

Roscoe is both kinda scary and uhhh a little babely for a cartoon animal - I hate that I think this, and if it weren’t raining and 44F right now, I'd run outside and throw myself down on the sidewalk about it. But here we are, and I once again blame the virus. Black Mercedes Race Suit George gives me the same vibes all around - I hate than I find this attractive, but I can’t deny it.

Charles is a man who isn’t afraid to accessorize (perhaps he should be more afraid, but lord knows I’m not one to judge), and while I could have sworn I saw a picture once of Chal wearing basically the same type of scarf Cranston is rocking (if anyone knows the one I mean, PLEASE let me know), this pic Carlos took of him all bundled up on the plane is actually pretty perf. Plus Cranston’s goal is to be a CEO - he wants to get to the top of the game (unseating Tom Nook, perhaps?) as much as Charles does!

So this one might seem a little out of left field, but hear me out - Gruff is a cranky old man goat who lives in a diner/garage, plays the drums, and wears an "old school" jacket around. He'll happily wear absolutely anything you give him, though, including ladder shades and oversized hoodies. Despite being a cranky villager, he's almost always in a sunny mood. Plus look at the eyelashes game - I know I'm jealous. Anyway, long story short, I vibe-checked Nando and the test came back positive for Gruff, the most How Do You Do Fellow Kids villager.

And finally, a bonus frenemy for Part 1 - Renée seems like kind of a stuck up c-word, but she's actually extremely cool. Always willing to welcome you to the scene with a "yo yo yo!" and a lil wave. Loves to reminisce about the good old days (when she'd hang out in a vacant lot apparently?). Honestly, Nico is way more cringe these days than I think Renée is capable of, but I really feel in my gut that there's some strong similarities (particularly re: nostalgia).

#seb #lance #charles #george #nando #nico r #just a bit of fun but please feel free to argue (unseriously) with me #animal crossing

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syms-things-5 · 4 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Sixteen

Previous Chapter Here

Warnings: Language, scenes that are NSFW, angst, slightly annoying people

Tags: @kelbabyblue @jennmurawski13

Notes: I am so sorry for being rubbish in posting this. I started writing it weeks ago and then work took over my life. Thanks for sticking with me and I hope this was worth the wait (somewhat).

Chapter Sixteen

“So, what do you want to do now?” Audrey asked, hands firmly planted on the Diner table in front of her. She had the same careful posture and look on her face as when she had to relay bad news to a family. It certainly wasn’t providing much comfort now.

She tilted her head to one side and offered a soft smile to try and assuage Sarah’s anxiety but it was no use. This kind of information wasn’t deserving of a casual reaction. She’d pretty much dropped a bomb on her friend and she was expected to deal with the fall out. To Audrey’s credit, though, she appeared to be taking it in her stride which was a bit surprising to say the least.

“Honestly? I have no idea.” Sarah shook her head despondently before her forehead connected with the table.

Three Days Earlier…

The convenient thing about being a nurse and working long and tiring hours, Sarah found, was that you almost always had the perfect excuse for getting out of plans. Or not replying to messages you were deliberately avoiding. “Sorry I didn’t reply earlier, I lost track of time” quickly becomes an acceptable code for “Sorry I didn’t reply earlier, I didn’t have a clue what to say.”

No one would ever dare call you out on it.

It had been almost a week since Sarah had arrived home and the questions from her family had yet to subside. For someone quiet and relatively lacking in a desire for attention, people sure did have a vested interest in her whereabouts. They wanted to know about the exam and when she was likely to hear the outcome. They wanted to know what would happen next and whether she could appeal it if she didn’t like the results. They wanted to know whether she would try again or if she was just happy doing what she was doing now, and please can you call your grandmother because she wants to hear about it, too.

She was exhausted.

But dealing with those messages was an absolute dream compared to messages Chris was sending her. She could copy and paste generic responses to all of the above but with Chris? That was going to take some more thought.

Chris: You’re so pretty. I miss your face so much x

Chris: …..And so many other things x

Chris: It’s not the same waking up without you x Chris: Do you remember me waking you up last week………?

Chris: Did you pick up my sunglasses?? I cant find them anywhere……..

Chris: Just found them! Duh!

Chris: Have you seen the Last Week Tonight? I think you’d love this one……. X

Chris: I’m thinking of getting a dog x

Chris: Can you just tell me ur OK so I can stop worrying?

After coming home late one evening following a long shift, she found herself face-to-face with the most beautiful array of flowers she had ever seen. Sunflowers, glorious white roses, gerberas, tulips, peonies… Truly, indescribably beautiful.

“Someone sure is popular.” Shanna called from where she was sat at the dining table. “They got delivered earlier today. I don’t mean to be a bad feminist but you should probably think about putting out for Greg ‘cos if you don’t, you can let him know that I am definitely up for it.”

Sarah side-eyed her friend and tried to locate the card in amongst the substantial spray. “I can’t remember the last time someone bought me flowers that wasn’t my Dad.” Shanna barked out a laugh as Sarah pulled the card out, recognising the handwriting instantly.

I really miss you x

Now she felt bad for her lazy response to him earlier that afternoon. The second-hand embarrassment was creeping up on her after she tried to casually allay his concerns with an “All good!! x” and regretted the double exclamation marks. That was bound to give the game away.

She regarded the flowers standing proudly on ceremony and waiting for her to smile at them in utter joy so they knew they had done their job. They deserved that at least, but all she could manage was a sigh and a somewhat reluctant smile at their glowing beauty.

“I mean there’s certainly no denying he likes you a lot.” Shanna crept up behind her and narrowly missed Sarah scrunching up the card in her hands. “You don’t buy flowers like this without making your intentions clear.”

“Who says he has intentions?” Sarah playfully jostled with Shanna. “This isn’t Downton Abbey.”

“Oh, come on!” Shanna regaled in disbelief, running her fingers over the large, open sunflowers. “You can’t fool me, Bernette. These are statement flowers if ever I saw them. He wants you baaaad.”

She walked back into the kitchen and Sarah could hear her locate and clang the only two vases they owned in the apartment. Neither of them had much need for vases and even if they did, one thing that made them good flatmates was their mutual distaste for needless crockery lying around the place. Neither appreciated dusting as a chore; it was much easier this way.

“Fuck. I’ll have to ask Mom to bring one over.” Shanna said. “We’re gonna need more to cope with that.”

As expected, Chris was pretty proud of himself. She couldn’t deny him that as he saw the flowers blossom in and around her apartment. He had popped by under the premise of annoying his sister for the evening but flirtatious glances across the lounge gave away his true intentions.

“You should be flattered, I don’t normally do flowers.” He joked when he sidled up next to her in the kitchen, tossing an apple back and forth between his hands.

“You don’t “normally” do anything.”

“Not true. I once sent a girl a peace lily that came in that nice, tall glass vase. That big blue thing.”

“Wasn’t that just to replace the one you smashed at her mom’s place when you were trying to sneak out?”

Chris froze on the spot, staring at her. “I actually can’t remember now, was it? Scott ordered it for me.”

Sarah rolled her eyes before continuing to tidy around him, Chris evidently deciding not to make her job any easier by moving out of her way. It was the equivalent of him lazily lifting his feet off the floor while she tried to vacuum underneath.

“Seriously, though, did you like them?”

“They’re lovely, thank you." Sarah moved to the other side of the kitchen as she continued to dry and place back some wine glasses in the cupboard. “You really didn’t need to do that. It was kinda hard to explain them away.”

“What did you say?” He rubbed at the back of his neck, turning serious for a second.

“I didn’t really say anything. She just assumed they were from Greg.” She leaned against the counter across the room from him. He could make out the worry in her eyes. “Which makes me feel like I’ve lied to her twice.”

It was hard to sleep that night. Chris had somehow got her to agree to meeting him the next day so they could talk some more but she refrained from agreeing to meet him at his place after work. She knew how that was likely to end and she couldn’t face being with him in that way right now so he had finally relented and agreed to a simple coffee at lunch instead. He was less than pleased when he left and Shanna spent half an hour complaining through the bathroom door about his “issues” as Sarah was trying to clean up before heading to bed.

“He’s always been an entitled asshole.” She started before ending with a one-two punch of “He’s not happy unless he’s in control” and “I wish for once he would experience being told ‘no’” She wasn’t wrong but she also didn’t need to hear just how right she was in this moment either.

A couple of things happened in relatively quick succession.

The coffee was every bit as awkward as she knew it would be, only not exactly for the reasons she had anticipated. It was times like this she relished Chris’s ability to have it all figured out and to be able to express himself clearly and succinctly, but she should have known better. As a result, Sarah was left more anxious and unsure of what it was she was feeling. Guilt she figured, not just for the knowledge that she was lying to her best friend but also for leaving the man sat in front of her looking like he had not slept properly in days.

He cleared his throat and shifted to sit up straighter in his seat. They were sat in the corner of the diner, as always, and barring a couple of people having a relatively animated conversation a few booths away from them – relatives of patients, she figured – it was pretty quiet for this time of the day.

“So, time to be honest but there was a reason I sent those flowers.” He had the look of someone who had just been told off by a teacher. “I sort of thought you might have seen something but I guess it went away. I think Matt dealt with it OK.”

Sarah put her cup down and looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“OK, don’t get mad but there may have been a photograph.” He barely looked up as he spoke. “Of us at the hotel.”

Her eyes widened at him and she was about to panic out loud until she realised where she was. “A photograph?”

“Well, technically a photo of me and an ‘unidentified female companion’.” He deadpanned making air quotes like it was nothing before finally making eye contact with her. He frowned but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. He looked down at the table again and then back at her when he realised she hadn’t said anything. “Don’t worry. It’s sorted. I explained things. I just figured someone might have put it on social media or something but I guess I owe him one this time, which he’ll love no doubt.”

“Oh.” She knew it was a pathetic response. “What do you mean you explained things?”

“It looks like a fan spotted me and took a picture at the right time. For them, obviously, not for me. Or us. A magazine picked it up. You actually look a little blurry so technically it could be anyone.”

“Unless you know me. It’ll probably be really obvious then.”

“Well now you don’t need to worry because it’s gone away. We’ll call it one of our nine lives.” He sipped his coffee again, slowly regaining his confidence now that he knew she wasn’t mad with him. She began rubbing her temple, a predictable move for when she was feeling stressed out and he realised he’d crossed a line. “Sorry.”

“Maybe I should seek a career in espionage. Clearly I can hide in plain sight.” She finally spoke and he smiled softly at her in a way that would unnerve her under certain circumstances but for obvious reasons wasn’t having that same effect right in this moment.

“Trust me, OK? I know how these things play out and people forget quickly. I’ve done this hundreds of times.” He was about to sip his coffee again until he was met with a sterner look from across the table. “That was supposed to sound reassuring but I, er, misjudged it.”

“Does Matt know about me?”

A few seconds of silence passed between them, Chris looking slightly to his left before making eye contact with her and pursing his lips, giving her the answer.

He leaned in and spoke as quietly as he could manage. “But he won’t say anything. He’s a good guy and he looks out for me.” \

“Yeh, I know.” She nodded. “Just doesn’t feel great at the moment.”

“You know I would love it if you talked to me about this.” He lowered his head so much he was now practically touching the table with his chin. “I feel like ever since we got back from New York things have been really weird and normally I would think I was overthinking things but I don’t think I am, am I?”

She turned her cup a few times before she felt his hand connect with hers. She saw how small she looked in his and when she looked back up at him, she was met with his doe-eyed expression. The expression which all you could do was smile back, which she did, and she was glad she did because he seemed to lose some weight from his shoulders at that point. His fingers lightly rubbed across hers and she enjoyed the warmth spreading across her skin and up her forearms.

“I’m sorry,” She spoke after a minute. “I didn’t mean to cause you any stress.”

Surprised by her apology, he leaned back in his chair. “You don’t need to apologise to me, Bernette. I get it. It’s strange.”

“I guess I just didn’t know where things would go after, y’know, everything. I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“Well, I know where I want things to go but something tells me we’re not on the same page.”

More silence.

“Look, I get it, OK? Nothing about this is straight-forward.” He rubbed a hand over his beard and over the back of his hair. “But we’re doing OK, right? I mean, I don’t think this needs to end any time soon. We don’t need to make any rash decisions just yet.”

“But how do you see this ending?”

She missed his hands when he pulled them back and let them rest on the table in front of him. “Umm…”

“Because truthfully, I figured it would have ended as soon as it started. You might have got bored or maybe you got a job and you left for months and we’d just…forget about it.” She shrugged back at him.

“Forget?” He tried to mask the disbelief creeping into his tone. “I don’t think either of us could forget about this.”

“But you think about our lives and how different we are and even if we take the family out of the equation, like, it was always going to be tough, right? We would have to figure these things out eventually. It would be naïve to think we could carry on as we have done without feeling guilty and…”

“I don’t feel guilty. Do you feel guilty?”

“Well, yeh. From time to time. It’s not so bad when we’re at yours because it feels like it’s out of sight, out of mind, and-”

“-then we’ll just have to stay at mine more.” He raised his eyebrow at her in an attempt to bring some playfulness back to their conversation.

“That’s not what I’m getting at.” She shook her head at him. Now it was her time to pull back as her head connected with the headrest. “This isn’t gonna last forever, is it? We need to be more rational.”

“Well…”

“And it’s only going to get harder and feel more…stressful.”

Chris narrowed his eyes at her. “Why now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, where is this coming from?” he asked. “We seemed to be OK and I thought we had a good time in New York. Then it’s days of near silence and now I think you’re trying to end this but you don’t have the guts to say it out loud.”

He had her there. She didn’t feel particularly offended or caught off guard by his assumption and he saw that because, truthfully, he’d finally put a name to her thoughts. He wasn’t giving her a way out as such but he was at least addressing the elephant she had planted between them.

He looked away from her and took in a sharp breath. “Look, I don’t want to have this conversation here, OK? I think we should have taken up my idea and spoken about this later at mine and in private. Will you please just come and see me later?”

He didn’t give her the softer, more pleading tone she was normally used to when he was trying to make an appeal to her. She wasn’t expecting it given the circumstances but…it would have been nice. How was she going to get through the next few hours of work if she had this struggle to look forward to?

“Because if you’re gonna dump me, I’d rather have a whiskey in me than whatever crap this is.” He flicked his cup away from him on the table and smoothed his hand over his beard again, still not making eye contact. “I’m gonna go. Just text me when you’re on the way, yeh?”

So that was that, then.

She could have cried, it felt so good.

She didn’t intend to let things get as far as they did. She was trying to figure out what to say to him. She spent a good portion of time standing outside his front door building up just enough nerve to knock. When she saw him, in a slightly-too-tight sweater, sweatpants hanging loose on his hips, eyes glossy from the alcohol she suspected he had started drinking as soon as he had arrived home, she couldn’t help herself.

He looked gorgeous. He looked warm and comforting and soft and hot and…all the things that had become so familiar to her now. And when he held his hand out to pull her in, she willingly went to him.

One thing that struck her as he was entering her over and over again was how tightly he held on to her. After she had finally managed to catch her breath from the onslaught of kisses and touches all over her body. His hands held hers firmly above her head as they fell onto his bed. God knows how they managed to make it that far.

He hadn’t let her up for air as soon as his lips connected with hers. He pulled her inside his apartment and pushed her towards his bedroom. She knew the layout of his home like the back of her hand, knowing exactly when they passed his kitchen as he dragged her jacket from her shoulders and left it by the table. She felt the curtains in his hallway brush passed her hair and the breeze from the skylight in his bathroom reach the base of her spine, his hands having pushed up her t-shirt and exposed her skin to the brief chill. His arms wrapped around her and held her like he was scared she was going to fall away from his grasp. She can’t remember connecting with anything else after that point; she was focussed solely on the way he was loving her. \

Clumsily, he used to his leg to kick the bedroom open so she wouldn’t bang into it and he got her flat on the bed with minimal effort. He carefully removed clothes until she felt his hot skin smother hers and she realised she made the right decision in just going with it. There was a sweet hint of whiskey to his breath but she didn’t much care. As he looked into her eyes, resting deep inside her, she didn’t much care for anything. This was the power he held over her.

She could tell he was thinking of something to say. Something he had probably practiced in the few hours since they last saw each other but now was coming up short. She instinctively placed her hand gently over his mouth, an acknowledgement of sorts, and asked him to move again, slower this time as he made sure she could feel all of him moving inside her.

She was on the edge of her orgasm for a long time. His breathing grew laboured, his hot breath fanning over her face and surrounding her before, without warning, he shifted them both in one fluid move so she was lying on top of him.

“Ride me,” he whispered, a softness belying his request, and she complied.

She gripped at his upper arms so they would hold her weight as she moved purposefully on top of him. It was bliss. She couldn’t look away from him as he struggled to keep his eyes open, taking in everything she was giving him. They had experienced a few moments like this, moments that felt so tender if it wasn’t for the way his hands were gripping her hips to keep her going.

After they had both come together, she collapsed down over him, her head resting over the top of his chest, him still inside her. She felt sure she had accidently bumped his chin but couldn’t quite manage the energy to vocalise an apology. He wrapped his arms securely around her to hold her in place when he thought she would try and move away from him. They’d slept like this in New York and he had decided he liked it more than the alternative.

“If that’s the last time we do this, at least we went out on a high.” he sighed.

“True.” She replied, equally as breathless.

He turned his head to look down at her, stroking a hand over her hair and the side of her face. “It doesn’t feel fair, though. Life’s gonna be a little bit shitter without you to look forward to.”

“We’ll still see each other. We’ll find a way to make it work.” She shifted her legs from off his before turning slightly to take the rest of her body away from his and he reluctantly let her go.

“Do you think we can?” He asked as he stared up at the ceiling. He already knew the answer in his mind but he wanted to hear her try and convince him.

“We have to.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She sighed heavily and rubbed a hand across her forehead, letting it rest it in her hair. “She’s my best friend. You guys are my family. We have to at least try.”

Chris turned to look at her just in time to see a tear form in her eyes. She gently blinked and sniffed it away not realising he had already seen.

“You’re gonna be a hard act to follow, Bernette.”

“So you slept with him again?” Audrey worried.

Sarah nodded carefully, holding one hand in the other. “I know, I know…but when I saw him I just couldn’t help it. I couldn’t pull away from him, it’s like he-”

“Oh honey, listen, I get it. Completely.” Audrey’s eyes widened and she had to stop herself laughing. “I can imagine he’s been very supportive to you with everything that’s been going on but I think when all is said and done, maybe you both needed this?”

“I wish it was that simple, Audrey. It’s not just the two of us that needs to consider things. Y’know, Shan actually apologised to me, saying she’d been a bad friend and that she would try to be more supportive from now on and…it hit me. It just knocked me for six that I’ve betrayed her completely and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to go back.”

“It’s obvious this isn’t just sex. I mean, he drove to see you in New York and fucking…” She waved her hand around at nothing in particular. “…fucking tested you on fucking blood diseases and ECGs. Michael doesn’t even do that and I fucking married that guy! Come on, Sarah. If this was just sex, it wouldn’t be an issue, would it? You’d be able to close the book and move on. End of story. The only reason this is causing you strife is because you have feelings for each other. And very serious ones at that I might add.”

“Ah well, that’s easy. You don’t go back. You don’t just forget the last few months. What’s done is done now and maybe there’s a better way out of this.”

“How?”

“Oh Sarah, I love you but you really are friggin’ naïve sometimes.” Audrey pointedly rolled her eyes for the tenth time since they sat down. It wasn’t something Sarah was appreciating right now, this feeling that she was continuously missing the damn point.

If this was Oprah, the audience would be clapping and whooping loudly right now and Audrey would do her finger-snap that she reserved for drunken arguments in bars with ladies that pushed in line for the toilets. Instead, she took a sip from her sparkling water and raised an eyebrow at her, content in her response. Your move, she was saying.

Sarah rubbed her eyes and painfully pulled at the skin on her eyelids. “I should have told you about this sooner. I’m sorry, Audrey. I’m sorry I’m landing this on your now.”

“Well, while we’re being honest, I guess I should tell you that I kind of already knew.”

Sarah looked at her incredulously. Audrey didn’t bat an eye and just sat looking back at her.

“How long? When did you…?”

“It’s not every day a movie star wanders into the reception of a crumbling ER department.” She said, matter-of-factly. “Plus, I saw you both outside the diner. Aaand I’m guessing the accident you had recently was because of him as well?”

Sarah awkwardly bit at her bottom lip. She didn’t need to confirm anything; Audrey knew full well. She was astute as hell and while it didn’t feel like it right in this moment, Sarah was quietly relieved.

“What do I do, Audrey?”

She sipped her water again. “If you insist on being serious about this, you can’t let yourself be in a room with him alone. You know that much, hun. The rest is day by day. Maybe he’ll make it easy on you.”

She nodded in understanding. Audrey took that at face value, giving her a sympathetic smile in return while mentally making a bet with herself about how well things would turn out.

#chris evans #chris evans fic #fanfiction #evans fic #clear the area #sarah bernette #chris evans x original female character

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Note

For the soulmate foursome, it's clear that they all love their little girl now, but... Michael is still very cold ! It's his nature, but when she sees him so sweet with Jimmy, so cuddly with Duncan, their girl has some doubts. She needs to feel that he trusts her, by showing his true face : a lil pup full of fears and love.

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

How are you?

I hope you’ll like this new piece for the foursome, I honestly love these babes and Michael in this dynamic is just UWU...

As always, if you don’t like this just shoot me an ask or a DM and I’ll rewrite it!

Have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Mention of Work Harassment, Rejection, Slight Violence, Nightmares, Tiredness and Jim’s Idiotic Humor.

Michael was literally the embodiment of ‘are you the little spoon or the big spoon? I am a knife’ meme.

Which was something that Jim had said jokingly to you, as you had voiced your doubts towards Michael’s love for you.

You didn’t deny that he was attracted to you, at least physically, but whenever you would do something even remotely romantic, he would retreat in himself, almost frozen on the spot, and you couldn’t help but feel like he was more a puppet than actually Michael.

And he only had this behavior with you, because you saw the way he would purr as Duncan dove, almost distractedly, an hand in his hair when they were on the couch and he was checking emails, Michael immediately relaxing under him.

Or when Jimmy would make some dumb joke and Michael would laugh like he had just proclaimed an universal truth, gently holding his lover’s hand as he brought it to his lips, or when he would comfort Jimmy during his nightmares, although he had learned how to let you in.

Every sexual action never seemed to be spurred on by Michael, although by the end of the day his hard-on would wake you up on the mornings you fell asleep in his arms, but he never seemed to initiate anything with you, whereas he had no qualm dragging Jimmy in his bedroom or kissing Duncan when you both visited him in his office.

You didn’t know whether he was simply too stiff to warm up to you or you should have just given him his time.

That was what had suggested Duncan the diplomat, whereas Jimmy had gone for a more direct approach, suggesting you just tied the man to the bed and showed him a thing or two about ‘your beautiful body’.

You definitely didn’t know why you still bothered to ask Jimmy for advice.

But then Destiny decided to give you a hand, gently pushing you and Michael together.

Duncan would be gone for an entire week a business trip and that same week Jimmy had wanted to visit Medina since she would be soon leaving for a world tour of surf and he wanted to spend a bit of time together, even more when he knew the tension that staying with you and Michael would arise.

‘Everything is going to be alright’ he promised ‘… please just fuck out the tension, don’t throw knives, Duncan would be pissed if he had to redecorate’.

‘Thank you for thinking about my life, babe’ you had replied, as you had closed the door in his face ‘… suck your own dick, since you are supportive the kitchen, again’.

But strangely the first days without Jimmy and Duncan went pretty well, mostly because you and Michael stayed on your own with your own routines.

You would be leaving for work, come back by night, shower after Michael did (which meant that the water was never ‘boiling hot’ but you couldn’t hold Michael’s accountable for that… mostly with that glorious hair) and then you would dine together.

Michael would try awkwardly to ask how your day had gone and you would reply a bit less awkwardly.

And then you would go to sleep.

Each one in a separate room.

Then the third day the miracle happened.

You had just come back from work: it had been a tiring day, working with children wasn’t always easy.

That day you had also slept terribly and when you had come back home you still had papers to grade and projects to go through, which would make your night even longer no matter your need for bed and food, and a long warm shower…

You had come in the kitchen, barging in lightly more aggressively than you usually did, and you hadn’t certainly expected Michael to be there, eating softly some sweet and you couldn’t help but feel like you were intruding on his peace, immediately grabbing all the bags you had dropped and mumbling a soft ‘sorry’, as you moved away.

“No no, stay” he replied, something in his voice making you turn around, and as you came to face with him, he looked curious… almost worried “... is everything alright?”.

“Just an hard day at school” you muttered, releasing a soft breath “I do think that if it isn’t a problem I’d like to shower first, so that I can then dedicate my soul and body to going through the children’s works”.

“… sorry to hear that” and he seemed to mean it, before he pushed out a small chair next to him “… and I don’t mind it absolutely, but first do you want some of this tiramisu? It honestly tastes amazing”.

And you didn’t doubt it since it came from one of the most known bakeries of the city.

But what truly startled you was the fact Michael had just offered you one of his precious sweets and you looked at him confused as if he had grown another head, but refused politely, sure that it was a trick.

Michael would never share his sweets with anyone: he always preferred to get more than to share.

So why was he sharing it with you?

“I won’t kill you if you want a piece, I swear” he insisted “… I know that I can be… possessive on my sweets, but I just… I just think that you might need this more than I do”.

In fact, you low key felt like you might need a bit of sugar to get yourself to be better.

“… just a piece” you promised him, and he just looked at you in the eyes, honesty shining in his beautiful turquoise gems.

“Honestly you can take it all, I wouldn’t mind it”.

---

If that hadn’t been enough to scare you about Michael’s behavior, making you wonder what had made him change, something interesting had happened on Friday.

Usually Duncan would reserve that day as a day off from work with you, if his week had been calm enough: you would go out for a coffee, something rather calm and trivial, but you cherished those memories, because they made you feel comfortable and fall more in love with your beloved idiot.

You would do a similar thing with Jim, going to see him training every Wednesday and then spending time sharing a milkshake together, at your favorite diner.

You hadn’t any of this kind of things with Michael, but you knew, because you had spied the conversation, that Duncan had made him promise to cover his ‘shift’ with you on Friday, hence Michael had very ‘not genuinely’ asked you out for a coffee after you finished work.

And you were now waiting for the beautiful man to arrive, having arrived early and grading some of the papers you hadn’t been able to finish the previous days, and you had been a bit warmed up by the beautiful atmosphere of the secluded coffee.

It was a bit more expensive that the ones around the city, but you just loved it too much to notice the money you spent on it (and Duncan usually paid so…).

And as you were waiting an hand touched your shoulder, startling you but you quickly recovered thinking it was Michael and his feline-like grace but you were disappointed a you saw Mr. Tinsel, one of the fathers of your students.

Who had flirted with you at any teacher-parents meeting, to the point where you were so uncomfortable that you started to always avoid him.

But this time there was no running away.

“Mrs. (L/N)!” he called out to you with more energy than he should have, not releasing your shoulder from his grip as you raised your eyes to rank them slowly onto his greasy attire, something between a mix of ‘my wife left me because I wouldn’t shower’ and ‘this is fashionable trash’ “… so nice to see you!”.

“Absolutely” you hoped your wondering smile would make sure that he understood you weren’t feeling the same way “How is Priscilla?”.

That child was literally the original ‘problematic one’ and you could totally understand with a father like that, spoiled and brattish, but also definitely uncared and having a lack of affection in her life.

“… an angel truly” you doubted it but smiled again more out of convenience than anything else “… and very much in love, like me, with her teacher”.

‘Good Lord if you ever loved me, please please just throw a lighting on his way’ you muttered in your mind, with a wary smile to the man who sat in front of you, a distinct show that he wanted to stay, completely taking advantage of your alone moment.

“That’s actually for my partner…” you tried to say “… I am waiting for him”.

“Oh, but I don’t see him around” he gave you a charming smile, and you simply sent a worried one, checking the door, as you tried to go back to grading your papers giving Mr. Tinsel no attention, but soon your interest was caught by a small protesting ‘humph’ Mr. Tinsel released “… hey I got this lace before!”.

And as you raised your face, Michael was looming onto Mr. Tinsel, his eyes definitely burning an hole through the poor man who still stood his ground but didn’t have much choice as Michael got the chair out of his ass, making him fall onto it, with a fluid motion as he readjusted the chair closer to you, sitting on it and sending you a quick glance as you looked at the entire scene shocked.

“… hey sweetheart, sorry for being late”.

---

All those mixed signals were driving you crazy and the drop that filled and made your vase overflow was when Michael insisted on you sleeping together on Saturday night, after a movie marathon, insisting on needing a bit of help to sleep these days.

‘You wouldn’t mind, would you?’ he had asked you as you stared at him as if he had just revealed you, he was ‘the king of the world’.

‘No no’ you had almost chocked on your own saliva as you had pushed yourself to reply quickly.

And now you were in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling on your back, your hand on your stomach, aching because of the anxiety of such an intimate act that Michael regarded with the least attention, having simply slipped in bed in pajama pants and nothing more, as he curled onto one side, in a fetal position, pushing himself the furthest away from you.

In the end sleep overcame you wonderings and thoughts, but you were quickly brought back to reality as you felt something turning around in your bed, startling you and paralyzing you onto the mattress as you calmed your breath and analyzed the situation.

You immediately came to the quick conclusion that it was Michael turning around the bed, since you were in his bedroom and pushed in an upright position so that you could see what was going on.

And found Michael twisting his body in what looked like a painful memory, transformed in an awful nightmare and as you gently pushed yourself to softly brush an hand against his shoulder, aware that you had to wake him up, he snapped.

He quickly went into survival mood, gripping onto your hand in a way that pained you, pushing onto your wrist as he quickly pulled you under him, effectively stopping any movements and protests, and as his hand wrapped around your throat you found yoyrself fearing for your life.

You had never witnessed a nightmare of his.

You hadn’t even known he had such and almost cursed yourself for having used such a bold attempt till Michael’s eyes snapped open, taking in the situation and you muttered through your slow breaths.

‘It’s me, (Y/N), Michael’ and as his eyes slowly became bright eyes in the darkness of the room ‘… you are hurting me’.

And as burned, he immediately retreated his hand from your hands, definitely taking in the harshness of his action, before recognition of who you were overtook him and you immediately turned away from him, to regain your breath as you wondered what you had to do.

You were still scared by his aggressive answer but you could hear him being pained beside you, still as stone and cold as ice as you slowly moved to take a look at him, on his back and watching anything that wasn’t you, although your movement quickly caught his attention.

“Michael, are you…?” ‘ok’, ‘crazy, ‘safe’… you didn’t know what to say but Michael simply nodded your head more out of habit, than actually feeling ‘better’, and your heart chocked a bit, tightening in your chest, as you realized he had nightmare, he just hid them “… you had a nightmare, you aren’t ok, I can feel how shaken you are and I…”.

“It’s none of your business” the harshness of your words hurt you much more than is chokehold, but you couldn’t simply give up.

“It is” your voice had his same harshness as you propped onto your elbow turning onto your stomach as you softened your gaze “… you are my lover like Duncan and Jimmy and I always help them through nightmares”.

“But I am not like either of them!” he protested, not even looking at you in the eyes, and you gave him all the time in the world “… I am not cheery as Jimmy and romantic as Duncan”.

“Then you are you: elegant and algid Michael with a love for sweets and for luxurious things, I don’t really need anything else, truly, I mean… I have cheery Jim and romantic Duncan and a very very sweet Michael, I just need you the way you are”.

This seemed to breech something in Michael as he sent you a quick look to you as if to make sure that you weren’t lying.

“… I almost hurt you”.

“Also Jimmy and Duncan did, the first times they had a nightmare, it’s not you, it’s the nightmares” you explained softly, daring to let an hand out to him to settle it between you “… once I know how to deal with yours nightmares, I won’t be hurt anymore”.

Although Michael still needed more convincing, he grabbed softly your hand.

“… we are in this together” you promised him, gripping a bit tighter his hand to let him know that you were right there with him.

“I like being held when I have nightmares, not too tightly” he explained, not daring to look at you, already halfway nestling through your arms.

“… then I do think that I can do that for you”.

#Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon Reader #Michael Langdon x Reader #Michael Langdon Imagine #Michael Langdon Fic #Michael Langdon Fluff #Fluff #michael langdon ask #Michael Langdon Drabble #Michael Langdon Blurb #Michael Langdon Moodboard #Ahs #Ahs 8 #Ahs Apocalypse #Duncan Shepherd #Jim Mason #The Foursome #Duncan Shepherd Reader

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benelman · 4 years

Text

dinner & a scene // ben & quinn // @thelastlight

quinn

Mac's Diner was truly a staple of this town, and if Quinn wasn't dropping by before his drive to Denver for a coffee and a blueberry muffin, he was stopping by before he headed home to grade more lab notebooks for a burger and a milkshake. He had a bit of a sweet tooth; sue him. He made his way in closer to closing time because his office hours ended up running later than expected. Messenger bag slung over his shoulder, he placed it on the empty seat next to him at the counter before sliding onto the stool. He grinned when he saw his favorite waiter head over to him. "Did I make it before the kitchen closed? I'd like to think I'm too dignified to resort to ramen or a pizza from the freezer, and yet..." Adult Ben was a new conceptualization for him, but Quinn couldn't deny that he'd grown up to be hot. He was no longer Quinn's friend's kid brother, and well, Quinn hadn't really seen much of his old friend since he'd been back, so there wasn't a whole lot to feel guilty about. No harm in just looking after all. Especially if he kept it subtle. @sophie | ben & kyrie

Ben

It was always a shock to see Quinn in the diner as of late. Not that it was a bad shock, no - not at all. Just surprising to see him after what had seemed like ages apart. It had been ages, that's true - both of them had been away, Ben coming back sooner than Quinn, but it seemed like so much had changed. Quinn used to be the kid who was over at the Elman house for dinner frequently enough that Ben remembered his name, and, at some point, he turned into this man, this incredibly handsome professor, and Ben wouldn't admit that the professor thing checked a few boxes for him, too, but... Seeing Quinn come in always brightened his day. "As if this kitchen closes," he joked in return, leaning against the counter in front of him. "Burger and a milkshake again? Or are we changing things up tonight?"

Quinn

A laugh snuck past his lips at the joking comment, and he tilted his head to the side. "Does going from chocolate to strawberry count as spicing things up?" he joked. In some aspects, he really was a creature of habit. The burger and milkshake was such a quintessential diner food that he hadn't really thought of changing his tune. "Surprise me. That way if it sucks, I'll have someone to blame," he teased. There wasn't much going on in the diner at this time of night, which meant he had all the time in the world to talk to Ben after he put his order in. He probably shouldn't flirt with his former friend's brother, and yet.... If he was going to do it, he'd be subtle about it. It was his job, after all, and Quinn would have to figure out how much of his friendly demeanor was because he was a paying customer.

Ben

The sound of Quinn's laugh really did brighten Ben's day (and his smile), though he probably wouldn't admit that out loud. "No, Sir, I don't think it does," he joked in return, shaking his head. Quinn was the only customer in the diner - there was really nothing else to pull his attention away, and that's the way Ben liked it. "Oh, no - that's far too dangerous. When we're talking Brooke's menu, nothing on it's bad. But I'll surprise you, sure. Remember that you told me to surprise you, though. Give me a minute, I'll go put your order in." He gave Quinn a wink (was that too far? probably) before turning his back to head towards the kitchen and put the order in with Brooke. Once he had, he returned out to the dining area, running his hand down the counter before stopping in front of Quinn again. "How was work, then? Everything good, Professor Heartland?"

Quinn

"Damn, there goes that plan." Ben was just easy to get along with. He wasn't one of those townies that was immediately going to tell someone your business just for it to make its way clean through the gossip mill so everyone in the whole damn town knew. Not that Quinn's business was all that interesting to begin with, but that had been one of the main reasons he left. It had all just gotten old. A fond smile lingered on his lips as Ben praised Brooke's menu, and the wink left him absolutely endeared. Objectively, it was a good business model. Flirt a little bit with the customers, get a better tip. Quinn tipped him well anyway, but that was neither here nor there. "Everything's good. Some poor kid somehow managed to spill heptane on his pants while we were doing titrations in my intro chem lab, but all in all, that's a minor lab incident." He kept himself from rambling on too much about his day. "And how's your day been, handsome?" It rolled off his tongue before he could really second guess himself, so he rolled with it, pretending it had been intentional this whole time, waiting to see if it would make Ben blush.

Ben

"That's me, Ben Elman, plan-ruiner," he replied with a grin, tapping his fingers on the counter rhythmically. He was always more than willing to talk to Quinn - in fact, some people might call him eager to do so. In his childhood, he'd always been a little nervous around him, but, then again, he'd been a little nervous around most of his siblings' friends. He was glad he'd grown out of that stage of anxiety when it came to talking to people. When Quinn started talking about his day at school, Ben felt like he'd been thrown for a loop; he'd almost failed high school chemistry, and, since then, he'd avoided most talk about the topic. "Well, I've got no clue what heptane is and even less of a clue what a titration is, but I hope the kid's okay," he replied, concern in his eyes. Minor lab accidents could lead to major consequences, based on what little Ben remembered. When Quinn called him handsome, though, all worry for Quinn's student rushed out of his brain. He felt a flush rising to his cheeks, one hand coming up to cover his mouth to hide it at least a little bit. "Me?" he repeated, pointing at himself, glancing around as if Quinn was talking to somebody else. Once he was sure the flush had eased, he gave a shrug. "My day's been pretty good, same as usual, though. Of course, that's not a bad thing. Tell me - have you ever tried a fried Oreo? Or is it really as niche a treat as Brooke made me think it is?"

Quinn

"Oh, he's fine. Just had to talk a walk around the science building to let it dry," Quinn assured, not having realized that it wasn't immediately obvious. Of course it wasn't. Even though it was introductory chemistry, their high school chemistry class hadn't been all that comprehensive. Quinn couldn't imagine much had changed when Ben took it five years after him. His reaction was even better than Quinn had anticipated, all trepidation over whether he should've pushed the envelope with him gone. The word was overused among some of his students, but Ben really had to be the definition of wholesome. The blush, the genuine surprise at being addressed in such a way, even the fact that he'd likely been complimented in such a way before and he was still surprised was too damned cute. "A fried Oreo? Can't say that I have. Is that one of my surprises? If so, color me intrigued."

Ben

"Oh, okay, so it's not, like... deadly. That's good. I'm glad he's fine." Ben was just grateful that he only needed one science requirement to graduate and that his school let him take the world's simplest geology class to tick that requirement on his degree planning sheet. If he'd been forced into chemistry, he probably wouldn't have been able to graduate and he knew that. That was part of what made Quinn even more impressive to him; he had gotten enough degrees in chemistry to be able to teach chemistry in higher education - Ben couldn't come anywhere close to that. Raising his eyebrows at the fact that Quinn hadn't tried a fried Oreo either, Ben threw his hands up in the air. "Am I the only one in this town who has had one?" Returning back to the counter, Ben placed both hands in front of him, palms down, meeting Quinn's eyes. "No - no, they aren't on the menu yet, but come back, like... Friday? Next Friday? One of these Fridays, Brooke's gonna put them on there. And, when you do, you can try one with me. Because they're good. Definitely sweet as hell, but good. And I don't ruin surprises before they happen." He smiled a little bit, just enough to bring out his dimples, glancing over his shoulder towards the kitchen before returning his attention to Quinn. "I think you'll like what I picked out, though."

Quinn

"He was more embarrassed than anything. The lab TA automatically has to report a spill to me, regardless of whether or not it's something innocuous, but luckily I've never had any major lab catastrophes that resulted in serious injury." It was lucky. He was glad that his students all seemed to have at least the most basic level of competence. He couldn't help but chuckle at Ben's surprised reaction to him not having tried a fried Oreo. "So I'm not the only one to have disappointed you in the fried Oreo department? Good to know." He listened as Ben told him about when they were going to make it onto the menu, glancing at the appearance of those adorable dimples before meeting his gaze again. "One of these Fridays, huh? Will you be working when we try these fried Oreos?" It was a not so subtle commentary about how they tended to see each other when Ben was working. And as much as he enjoyed seeing him in his work environment, he did wonder about seeing him when he was off the clock. Wondered if there was any interest, or if he always reacted that way to a playful compliment. "I'm sure I will. I trust your judgment," he agreed. He was going to like it even if he didn't like it. Which seemed unlikely, considering his raving review of Brooke's cooking.

Ben

“Oh, you’ve got TAs? You’re fancy, huh?” Ben teased playfully, a grin remaining on his face. “But I’m glad you haven’t had any major spills, too. That’s probably why I should never be invited into a chemistry lab. I’d break something bad, or spill something worse. I’m kind of a disaster in the lab.” Despite the fact that he had good hand eye coordination - good enough that he started at shortstop for three out of his four years of high school baseball - he always seemed to manage to make a mess out of the chemistry lab. “Brooke’s never tried one either...!” He explained, a teasing hint of frustration seeping into his voice. He couldn’t believe that people hadn’t had fried Oreos in their life. Ben had a hard time turning them down; he was glad that he could introduce them to the diner’s menu soon enough. Tilting his head slightly at the question, he raised his eyebrows. “Am I going to be working...?” He repeated back at him. “Um... maybe...? Am I?” Part of Ben thought that that was Quinn’s way of asking him on a date, and, if it was, Ben wouldn’t hesitate to agree. “Oh- thanks. My judgement can be good when it comes to food, but that’s about it,” he joked, the smile returning to his features. When he heard the bell by the kitchen ding, he turned on his heel to grab the food, coming back with two plates. “Okay, so latkes or grilled cheese and tomato soup, take your pick. Whichever one you don’t eat, I will.” Maybe it was a bold decision, but he didn’t regret making it yet.

Quinn

"If you want to call it that," Quinn said with a casual shrug. Truth be told, he was well aware that the whole professor thing worked for him. He was hoping it would for a while. Truth be told, he didn't ever really plan on settling down for good. That ideal had bit the dust long ago. But he didn't assume that anyone he ended up dating or hooking up with wanted that sort of thing anyway. He was more of a mister right now than a mister forever. He chuckled at Ben's comments about avoiding a chemistry lab. "Well, if you had an interest in the lab, I'd invite you. Provided you were wearing safety goggles and didn't touch anything. Just to be safe," he teased. Truly, he doubted that Ben was as much of a disaster as he claimed to be. "Besides, you should probably give yourself more credit. Who's ever heard of a clumsy waiter?" He raised his eyebrows as Ben went on about how Brooke hadn't tried one. "I'm sure you'll remedy that as soon as you get the chance," he said with a playful smirk. Ben seemed genuinely baffled at the question, and Quinn blamed it on poor flirting. Seemed like Ben was someone he might have to be a bit more direct with. He could make that work. That smile of his was cute, though. He wouldn't mind being the cause of that more often. When he came back, Quinn immediately eyed the tomato soup and grilled cheese. "Yes, you do have good judgment. God. Ultimate comfort food right here, and you really can't have one without the other. Gotta dip it," he said with a grin.

Ben

"Yeah, I do want to call it that, actually," he joked with a smile, leaning against the counter a little more. At the teasing, he playfully rolled his eyes, locking his hands behind his back, left wrist over right wrist. "Yes, Sir, I'd keep my hands behind my back just like this to be safe. Good thing I'm good at following directions, huh?" Returning his hands to the counter in front of him, Ben's smile remained on his face. Maybe he'd have to take Quinn up on that offer to visit the lab someday - not just because his mind went plenty of dirty places thinking about being in Quinn's place of work, quickly shooing aside the professor fantasy he had in his head. He was at work, after all. "Oh - I wouldn't say I'm clumsy. Just that me and chemistry labs don't mix well. I've got good hand-eye coordination otherwise, I played baseball all through high school, varsity all four years, started my last three. But at the same time I was starting on the diamond, I was knocking over vials and shit in the chemistry classroom. God, Mr. Whatever-His-Name-Was hated me..." Ben muttered, shaking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck with a smile. "I definitely will. I'm swinging by the grocery store to pick up Oreos tomorrow, she's gotta try it. You've gotta try it. It's so good, I promise. But, like, cheat day only good. Because if you eat them every day, you'll feel like shit. Don't ask me how I know that." His freshman year of college had been a dangerous time. When he returned with the food, he smiled at the compliment, setting the grilled cheese and tomato soup down in front of Quinn and accepting the plate of latkes for himself. "For sure, yeah. It's not half as good without the dipping. But I'm glad I made a good choice. Enjoy, Professor."

Quinn

It was entirely too easy to lean into the sexy professor thing. Van Halen's Hot for Teacher had come out five years before he was born, but it sure as hell seemed to apply with some of his hookups. He'd never been stupid enough to hook up with a student, of course, but he had fucked more than one person over his desk with his office door locked behind him. "Very good thing," Quinn said, his mind inclined to wander about just how good he was at it. He'd find out later, if things turned out the way he wanted them to. It was endearing to hear about his high school days, considering his words until he got to Mr. Whatever-His-Name-Was. Eyes widening he said, "Oh, damn, did Dr. J finally retire when you got to high school chemistry? He looked like he was getting around to it when I graduated, but I always figured he'd be one of those that came back to sub when needed. Mr. Whatever-His-Name-Was sounds like a tool," he said with a dismissive roll of his eyes. He'd always admired his own chemistry teacher. He had a doctorate, but he came back to teach high school chemistry because the schedule was less demanding, and it was closer to home. Real family man. Quinn doubted he'd ever get to that point himself, but he could appreciate the fact that others were able to get their lives together enough to do something like that. "But if a chem lab makes you nervous, I can always show you my office," he added with a perfectly innocent expression. "Your choice." He chuckled when Ben went on about the Oreos as a cheat day only food. "I'll take your word for it," he promised before digging into his meal, promptly dipping the tip of the grilled cheese into the tomato soup and taking a bite. "Mm. I am already," he said after the first bite.

Ben

At the praise - if one could even consider it praise - Ben felt his cheeks flush a little bit more. Turning around to pretend to check the state of the milkshake machine behind him, Ben forced himself to take a deep breath. Now was not the time or the place - even though his shift was coming to a close, he was still at work, and Quinn was technically his customer. He was grateful for the talk of high school; there was nothing less sexy in Ben's book than high school chemistry. "Yeah, he retired a year before me. All my siblings praised Mr. J to all heavens, but I got stuck with this... yeah - he was a tool. All around asshole, glad I don't have to deal with him anymore -- I used to turn in homework and then get 0s on it because he claimed I never turned it in, when I very clearly did turn it in- which is how I nearly failed the class. Well, that, plus the fact that I can't do chemistry." It was too much memorization for him. How was he even supposed to begin to remember the whole periodic table, anyways? The next phrase caught him entirely off-guard again, his eyes dropping to the floor so he didn't have to make eye contact with Quinn while his mind wandered. "I'm sure your office is really nice." It was probably best to leave that at that for now. Grabbing a set of silverware for himself, he poured the applesauce onto the latkes, taking a bite with a hum. "Good, I'm glad you like it," he spoke, covering his mouth with the back of his hand in case there was any food in there while he talked. "You want a milkshake with that, too? On me...?" That was his best way of flirting while he was on the job, plus he knew that Quinn had his affinity for a chocolate milkshake.

Quinn

It was just too easy to make him blush, a fact that Quinn was taking full advantage of. He wasn't going to push it too much. After all, the poor guy was working. If he wanted an out, there was literally no getting away from him until he left. Still, his body language implied none of the sort, as far as he could tell. Well, maybe he was a little bit flustered. Quinn would take it easy on him. He looked more comfortable as they moved to the subject of high school chemistry. Truthfully, chemistry had kicked his ass a time or two in his undergraduate. He'd failed Calculus 1 the first go around in college and had to take it again in order to have enough working calculus knowledge to do chemistry. It had been a fucking shit show for a while there, but his stubbornness won out. "It's not for everyone. But I guarantee you'd've had a better time with it if you'd had Dr. J. Guy gets out of Edgewater to get his doctorate and comes back because he wants to teach high schoolers. Practically qualifies him for sainthood." He watched Ben's gaze move to the floor when he mentioned his office and held back a smirk. "It is. There's a desk for working and a couch for when it's time to take a break." His tone was even, not at all suggestive, but providing just enough information for Ben to have a mental picture. He grinned when Ben offered him a milkshake. Didn't go quite as well with this dish, but he sure as hell wasn't going to be turning it down, either. "I'd love that. But only if I'm buying your dinner."

Ben

"Wish I could turn back time and be born two years earlier, if only to have Dr. J. teaching me high school chemistry," he joked, tapping his fingers against the counter. He didn't want to think about himself as the type that peaked in high school. While he'd had some good experiences in high school, he truly hoped that the best was yet to come. He didn't want to think the peak of his life was winning the state championship in baseball his senior year, didn't want to think that the peak of his submission was kneeling in some barn to give a guy head after the homecoming bonfire in the fall. He had more to experience, he knew it. When Quinn continued to describe the office, Ben wondered if he was doing so on purpose just to tease him. He could practically picture it, if he closed his eyes and really tried to. He was sure that it looked good - better than what his imagination could come up with, in fact. "It's probably nice to have a couch in there for when you want it. But also nice to have a desk so you can actually focus when you need to." Don't think about it, Ben. Don't think about any of it. Turning around to make his milkshake, Ben quickly shook his head in dismissal. "No, no, don't worry about it. You don't have to do that." It was definitely a nice gesture, in Ben's mind, but he didn't want to be a burden to Quinn just because he'd decided to order an extra dish when Quinn only needed one. Quickly making the chocolate milkshake, he set it down on the counter in front of Quinn, setting a straw next to it. "But that's yours, no fighting back, Sir." A big grin accompanied those words, taking another bite of his latkes to occupy his mouth afterwards.

Quinn

"He gave you peanut m&ms if you got a hard question right, and I really don't think there's any topping that incentive," Quinn joked back. The longer they talked, the less he saw Ben as his high school friend's kid brother. It was easy to push the scrawny ten year old out of his mind when he looked like this. And when his back was turned, it was human nature that allowed for his gaze to dip down to his ass for just a moment. "It is nice having options," Quinn said. His tone of voice made the comment perfectly innocuous; it was up to Ben to interpret it how he would. He cracked a smile when Ben told him that he didn't have to do that. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to," he pointed out. "And it's really rare that I'll do something out of obligation. Well. Outside of a work context, anyway. I'll teach an eight A.M. class out of obligation, but I'll buy a hot guy dinner just because I want to." Much more of a direct flirtation, and he waited for the telltale blush. He was taking it easy, but Ben had walked right into it with his whole 'you don't have to do that'. He stuck the straw in the milkshake and took a sip, closing his eyes and humming with an approving nod of his head. He thought about mentioning how the milkshake was the second most delicious thing he'd seen tonight, but he really didn't want the poor guy to end up choking on his latke.

Ben

"I wish I got peanut M&Ms, instead I just got an inferiority complex and had to add humiliation to my list of hard limits," he replied, propping his chin up on his hand as he ate. That wasn't entirely true; he'd known his whole life that humiliation and degradation weren't things that turned him on, but he just thought that joking about it would make it easier to deal with in retrospect. "Yeah - yeah, options are nice..." he agreed, curious about what Quinn meant by that. He wasn't going to press, of course -- he was still at work, after all. But the thought would linger in his head long after he got off shift. When Quinn directly referred to him as a hot guy, Ben could feel his heart skip a beat. He almost felt like a kid again, crushing on his sibling's friend, but... there was something more to it. Maybe it was just the desire to submit. "Eight A.M.s suck... but you're the hot guy here, really." That sounded a lot better in his brain than it did coming out of his mouth. He never thought of himself as a bad flirt, so why was it so hard for him to flirt back right now? Taking another bite of his latke so his mouth was too occupied to talk and embarrass him again, he smiled at the hum of approval - Ben craved approval more than he'd ever be able to admit. Once he'd swallowed the bite, he spoke again, another attempt to flirt. "I'm really glad you like it, Sir." Using the honorific again, more than he typically would with old friends of his siblings'. He had always been taught to respect Dominants, sure, but this was going a bit more than respect, in his head; once per conversation was enough respect, but, now, he was really milking the honorific, trying to see what it would get out of Quinn.

Quinn

Quinn picked up on the interesting observation from the other. Truthfully, he could take or leave that sort of thing, anyway. He would do it if the person he was doing a scene with requested it, but it was by no means his favorite. He could be an asshole at times, without a doubt, but he didn't personally understand the appeal of being mean just to be mean. He was sure there were other perspectives on it as well, but that was for another conversation. "Thank you, Ben. This seems to be one of the cases where there are two right answers," he said with a teasing grin. It was sort of cute, how he was muddling through the whole flirting thing. Quinn was typically the type to go for the easy hook up, but he genuinely enjoyed talking with Ben like this. He wouldn't mind if this was as far as Ben wanted to take it, even though he was getting the hint that he might want more. He'd noticed all of the sirs Ben dropped in conversation, and he idly wondered if that meant that he wanted to submit to him in particular. A good looking, nice guy like him surely had no trouble finding someone to submit to, but he might still be shopping around. "There's a lot to like about the diner this time of night," he mused in return, taking another bite of his tomato soup dipped grilled cheese.

Ben

Ben had never felt quite like this with anyone else, which surprised him; he flirted a lot, with plenty of other people even during work hours. So why was he so uncertain of it now? Was it because of his childhood experience with Quinn? Or was it because of more recent conversations with him, their frequent run-ins at the diner? Or was it things in this conversation in particular that were making it difficult for Ben to keep up? Had it been that long since he'd submitted to someone else? No, not really. Then what was it...? "Oh - so you were just teasing me, knowing that whatever I was gonna say was gonna be right? That's sneaky, Quinn..." he joked, lips curling up into a smile again. "It's like giving a sub two options and the Dom knowing that both options are good but the sub doesn't know that, so you're being a tease..." Quickly taking another bite of his latkes to keep himself from rambling anymore, he looked down at his food, glancing back up at Quinn. He really did like the way that Quinn said his name. What would it sound like if he called him Benjamin...? "Oh, yeah, the neon looks really good, doesn't it?" glancing around, he gave a little smile. "It's quiet, but not bad quiet. Not creepy quiet, either. Just... comforting quiet. I like it a lot. Feels... cozy, y'know?"

Quinn

"What can I say? You looked like you'd be fun to tease," Quinn responded with a playful wink. He didn't let his mind wander around the specifics of how he'd tease Ben if the two of them were ever really alone. It was cute, the little routine of saying something and then quickly munching on his food to make sure he didn't say more than he intended to. "Do you like being teased, Benjamin?" The urge to touch had reached its peak, and the only thing holding him back was the fact that he had something to do with his hands. Sliding the milkshake closer, he sucked on the straw and gave Ben a quizzical look. However, then his wandering thoughts quieted as Ben commented on the neon and the quiet. Sure, he was cute flustered, but he was adorable in an environment that was clearly comfortable to him. "It's nice," he had to agree. "Part of the reason I didn't just get a place in Denver. A lot easier to find a quiet place to grade or relax in a place like Edgewater." When he'd left, the quiet had been too much. All he'd wanted was out of his thoughts, out of his head. He'd gotten that however he could at college. Throwing himself into extra-curriculars he didn't really care about. Throwing himself into his homework. Throwing himself into parties where he drank so much he couldn't remember. It was still hard being back, but thirteen years made it hurt a little less. A dull ache as opposed to a fresh wound.

Ben

Running his tongue over his teeth, Ben tried his best to hold back a blush this time. Did he look fun to tease? What did that mean, to look fun to tease? Was that a good thing? Mulling over the words in his mind, Ben was slightly distracted until Quinn spoke up again. Holy fuck... it was almost like Quinn could read his mind. And yes, he decided, he very much did like the way his full name sounded coming out of Quinn's mouth. He could almost imagine it now, Ben dropping into subspace with Quinn's hand in his hair, speaking kindly to him, calling him Benjamin and good boy and so many other beautiful things-- until he realized he'd been asked a question. "Yes, Sir..." Forcing himself to take deep breaths, Ben focused on things around them - the smell of the latkes and the grilled cheese, the way the neon reflected off of the counter, the way his nails were getting too long for his comfort and how he'd have to cut them when he got back home. The three glasses drying on the counter behind him. Enough to distract him until he felt calm enough to continue their conversation. "Well, I'm glad you came home. I mean that." Ben had understood the desire to leave, to see other things, when he graduated high school, too. He enjoyed his time in California, but he really had missed Edgewater; he had no regrets about coming back home afterwards. And now, those feelings were even stronger. Maybe his reasons were selfish, but he really was glad to see Quinn back in town.

Quinn

Quinn waited ever so patiently for Ben to answer his question, noting the long pause but deciding against pointing it out. His gaze wandered around the room, and Quinn had to wonder if Ben had been submitting regularly. Of course it was none of his business yet, and he wasn't going to ask. But he did seem awfully flustered for someone who was submitting on the regular. He'd find out if Ben wanted to tell him. All teasing aside, this would of course only go as far as Ben wanted it to. He quietly finished off his grilled cheese and soup, the silence comfortable enough for him even as he wondered what Ben might be thinking about. When he did finally speak up, the comment made him smile. It wasn't unequivocally good to be back, but it had been better than he expected. Family was a good enough reason to come back, for him. Everett was here. Noel was back. Quinn was by no means completely responsible, but the two of them needed someone to keep an eye on them before they crashed a tractor or worse. "You grew up," he mused, glancing over at him again. "I don't know if I can still call you kid now that you're taller than me."

Ben

How long had it been? Two weeks, maybe more? That thing with Theo, whatever it was, seemed like ages ago now. And he knew that she had her eyes on other subs, and the two of them would never end up together; it just wouldn't work, they were too close of friends to be Claim partners. Not to say that a Claim can't be a friend, too... A brief shake of his head stopped his thoughts from running again, finishing up his latkes in that comfortable silence again, the sound of silverware almost as comforting as the neon reflecting off the countertops. At the comment about him growing up, Ben shrugged. "I never really liked it when anybody called me kid, anyways, if I'm being honest." There are plenty of other things you could call me, though. Reaching to take his clean plate and bowl back to the kitchen, he looked over his shoulder at him. "Benjamin worked. Ben's good, too. Whatever you want, really. I'll grab your check in a minute."

Quinn

"Everett did it just to annoy me, which I caught on to pretty quick," he replied. He and his brother had had a relatively decent balance of getting along and fighting, but for the longest time, he'd been the one Quinn looked up to. Eventually he'd gotten over that, not wanting to get into any serious trouble that would prevent him from actually getting out of Edgewater some day. The Heartland name could only do a person so many favors, and it really didn't extend beyond the outskirts of town. "No rush on the check, Ben," he promised with an easygoing smile. "I'm enjoying your company." Back to a neutral enough compliment. He really didn't want to get the submissive too flustered, after all. There was a balance to it. The teasing comments and the more real things. Well, as real as Quinn got with anyone. This town made him nostalgic. He'd built up his walls in anticipation of them coming down easier in a place that was familiar even after over a decade away.

Ben

"We were never the 'kid' type of family, you know? Like, sure, I got called it at least a couple times, but it was never enough to get on my nerves. I just didn't prefer it." His siblings were certainly some of his closest friends, but that was likely a whole different story. He knew that he could look up to them no matter what, and he was grateful for everything they'd done in paving the way for him through school. A good reputation was definitely a nice starting block to have. Going to grab the check, he shot Quinn a smile. "No - no rush on your end. Seriously. I'm enjoying your company, too." Part of it was the easy flow of conversation, another part was that he was definitely attracted to Quinn, at least as a person who he could be friends with. He had no idea what Quinn was like as a Dominant, but part of Ben (a large part) hoped that he'd get to find out. Setting the check down in front of him, without the latkes and the milkshake on there, he leaned against the counter again. "So, classes tomorrow? Do you have to teach any 8 AMs this semester?"

Quinn

"How is your family, by the way?" He saw Ben because of the diner, but he hadn't really run into any of the other Elmans. It was a typical train of conversation, and truth be told, he was asking more out of habit than a general desire to know. Old habits apparently come back, even after thirteen years. It wasn't all that much of a surprise that he hadn't run into any of Ben's family. He didn't spend all that much time in Edgewater, even though he lived there. He went grocery shopping and to the diner, but he wasn't overly keen on socializing with many people. He'd be staying for at least the rest of the school year, but he had no idea if he was going to make a longer commitment than that. "Thank you," he added, looking over the check before raising his eyebrows. "You're really not going to let me buy you dinner, Benjamin?" He thought about making a comment about saving that for another time. "Yes, and yes. I just make my own coffee on 8 AM days so I can roll out of bed at the last minute possible. Luckily tomorrow my first is a 10:30 lecture. Then I have a lab from 2 to 5. What about you?"

Ben

"Oh, they're good - everybody's good. Dad's back into needlepointing, Mom's still cooking Sunday night dinners, everybody's good. You should come over one of these Sundays, catch up. We'd all like to have you, I'm sure of it." He nodded - Quinn used to be around so frequently when he was a kid; Ben was certain he'd be welcomed back into the Elman household with open arms. "I'd ask the same about your family, but I've seen pretty much everybody around, I think. Everyone looks healthy and happy. And the hayrides are as much of a hit as they ever were." It was nice, living someplace where he knew everyone. While it made dating more difficult, it made his day-to-day life much easier. There was less animosity when you knew everyone around you, it seemed. Except for the feud, and Ben pretended like that just didn't exist. At Quinn's question, Ben shook his head, biting back a smile. "No, Sir, I'm not." Holding back his own comment about saving it for another time, Ben looked him in the eyes, finally letting the smile raise up onto his cheeks. "I start at 9 tomorrow morning, get off at 5. Like a regular old businessman," he joked, grinning. "Or whenever Brooke tells me to leave. It's scheduled 9 to 5, but it all depends on how busy the diner is."

Quinn

He'd really walked right into that one, and he was kicking himself. Wholesome family dinners with people who weren't his family was exactly the sort of thing he had no desire to do. "Thanks. Maybe one of these Sundays I won't put off grading until the last minute." It was an easy out, and he was grateful for the fact that he was still pretty good at thinking on his feet when it came to this sort of thing. He chuckled at the mention of the hayrides. "Is it really hayride season if one of the Heartlands isn't joking about stealing the tractor?" Noel really needed to get his vehicle fixed. "If you insist," Quinn replied, pulling out his wallet, fully intending to leave a generous tip. "But I'll be buying you the fried Oreo when it gets added to the menu," he said with a grin of his own. "Ah. I get the feeling Stream would be a good boss, though," he said, the childhood nickname rolling off his tongue without a second thought. "I think the only times I've ever seen this place busy is when there's some sort of event going on in town." Which also happened a fair amount of the time. Edgewater was one of those little towns that stuck to its traditions.

Ben

"And I thought you would've figured out time management by now," Ben teased in a friendly manner, a smile on his lips. "You're always welcome, just let me know." Pushing a hand through his hair to get some of it out of his face, he propped his chin up on his wrist again after that. "You'll be able to see my naivety real quick, but don't tractors go, like, five miles an hour at best? What's the point of stealing one, you aren't gonna get anywhere." He didn't really get it, he knew he didn't. He'd grown up in town, not on the outskirts, so the farms around Edgewood weren't exactly his area of expertise, no matter how much Theo had tried to teach him over the years. "I do insist, actually. But I will take you up on one of those fried Oreos." Ben nodded in agreement, giving him a smile. "Stream?" he laughed at the nickname, looking over his shoulder. "Why do you call her that?" Genuinely curious, and also wanting to get Quinn to talk more, to stay longer, to be around him for as long as possible. "Yeah, that's true, but it's not like Edgewater is a dull place - especially with all that construction going on, people are talking, and people come here to talk over a good meal. It's interesting - nobody really seems to know what's going on. Weird, huh?" Glancing out the window, he turned his gaze back to Quinn. "But - yeah, you're right. It's not busy all that much, so... I've got plenty of free time, Sir."

Quinn

"That would be the adult thing to do. But I'm never out of bed before nine unless I absolutely have to be, so I guess I missed the memo on a few of those adult things," he joked back. It was one thing with Ben, he'd decided. But he really hadn't stayed close with all that many of his high school friends. Brooke was definitely an exception, not a rule. They'd been hanging out since they were in diapers because their moms had been best friends. When they were both out in California, they made time to see each other. When she was on tour in Baltimore, he skipped his homework for the night to catch her show. He hadn't ended up on bad terms with any of the Elmans, they'd just sort of fallen off each others' radars. "That's what it feels like when you get stuck behind one on the road," he admitted with a laugh. "But top speed's actually 25 miles per hour. So. Definitely quicker and less effort than riding a bike, if it really came down to it." He had a fair amount of useless farm knowledge considering he'd never planned to seriously work on the farm. It had been more of a summer job, helping out when needed. Quinn pulled out his phone, opening a new contact and offering it to Ben. "Text me when they're officially on the menu?" It was innocent enough, and an easy enough in. He shook his head at himself for the slip up. "Well, when you were a toddler, I was busy being absolutely insufferable in second grade, and when I learned that stream was a synonym for brook, she never had a chance." It was a dumb story, one he hadn't had the need to tell in years. "I'm sure someone knows what's going on," he reasoned. "But whoever that someone is is doing a damn good job of being tight lipped." That was almost more impressive, all things considered. It made him think that it had to be the doing of an out of towner. "Oh? And what do you like to do in your free time, Ben?"

Ben

"Oh, please - nine is still early, I'm not judging you at all. Between you and me? On days I don't work, sometimes I sleep in until ten." He chuckled at his own story, propping his elbows up on the counter again, despite how far he had to bend down to do so. Maybe he hadn't grown out of his high school days, off-season, when he could sleep in in the mornings on weekends and not have to worry about practice or games. "Oh, 25? That's fast as hell, please, forgive me," he teased, holding his hands up in a surrender-esque gesture. Despite his teasing, though, he had loved the sound of Quinn's laughter. His brain started to work on how he could hear the noise again. He hadn't ridden a bike in years, not since he got his car. He remembers liking it as a kid, though, despite how frequently he was lectured about wearing a helmet and staying off the streets. He was pleasantly surprised when Quinn offered him his phone to put his number in. "Yes, Sir, I can do that. Consider yourself on the exclusive Ben Elman Mac's Diner Mailing List," he joked, but he really was glowing with joy about getting to give Quinn his number. Typing it in, putting his name in as Benjamin Elman, he slid the phone back. He had been considering dropping his last name, but he knew that there were plenty of Benjamins out there, and he didn't want Quinn getting confused. "You'll have to text me later so I've got your number, too." He listened along with the story, feeling a little dumb when it took him a second to get it. "Oh, like - the- like a river, brook. Not like, Brooke with an e at the end. Science was not my thing, can you tell?" Nodding along with Quinn's commentary on the construction, Ben bit the inside of his cheek, silently pondering. "Yeah, I wish I could know more..." He muttered, fingers pulling at his sleeve. "In my free time? Read? Watch movies, relax, come to town... pretty much anything, you name it." Go on a date with you. "What do you like to do in your free time?"

Quinn

"How rebellious," Quinn replied immediately, laughing. The conversation between the two of them was so easy. It was impossible not to notice that, even though he wasn't sure what to do with the information. Ignore it, that was probably for the best. Not overthink it. At least, not while he was still right in front of him at the diner. "Fast enough for there to be a drive your tractor to school day. Although, come to think of it, that might've been something Everett made up when our folks grounded him from the car," he said with a shake of his head. "Exclusive, huh? Lucky me," he teased right back, taking the phone when it was handed back to him. He noticed the formal first name last name format, and he was pretty sure that Ben thought his social circle was a lot more extensive than it really was. "Oh, I intend to," he responded, immediately snapping a selfie with a goofy face and sending it to his new contact. "Use it responsibly," he said with a very serious expression before cracking a smile. "Science isn't my thing sometimes, so I get it. I worked in a lab after I graduated college, and my boss brought me donuts when I looked stressed, so apparently I have a very obvious stressed look," he joked. Ben looked genuinely concerned about the construction, and he wished he had some useful information if only to assuage whatever feelings he was having. It was a protective instinct, usually reserved for family or friends. "A lot of the same. I've been trying to go to the gym at least once a week, so that's been interesting." He certainly wasn't going to mention how he'd gone flying off the back of a treadmill the other day.

Ben

"That's me, Edgewood's most rebellious sub." Ben laughed at his own joke, knowing he was probably far to the opposite side of the spectrum. He was genuinely enjoying their conversation. It came easier now that he was comfortable with their flirting, easier to put the past in the past and accept the simple fact that he was attracted to Quinn. "Yeah, I don't think drive your tractor to school day was an actual thing, sorry to burst that bubble." Not that he would've been surprised if there had been; Edgewater was a town that would have something like that every year. "Yeah, it's really exclusive, 'cause you're the only one that gets it, and you can ask for updates on things, too. I hear the guy running the newsletter is a pretty quick responder, too." When he watched Quinn take the selfie, he smiled affectionately, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Yes, Sir. Sorry I forgot the picture for you, but I'm pretty sure I'm the only Benjamin Elman that you know, so." Now he wished he had put a picture in Quinn's phone. "Aren't you, like, a doctor of science, though? You've gotta be, like, ten times better at it than I am." He nodded along with what Quinn told him he was doing now that he was back in Edgewater. "Hey, that's more dedication than I've got. I go maybe once biweekly, but I also jog a lot, so... I guess there's that. I may not be in peak baseball shape, but I could still hold my own on a diamond, I think. I can still fit the letterman's jacket, at the very least, so that's a win."

Quinn

"You know, something tells me that isn't the case," Quinn teased. Truthfully, he had no idea what kind of submissive Ben was. That was part of the intrigue. With the data he had so far, he could see him going either way. He was curious to find out, but he didn't want to spook Ben too early on. "And here I was thinking they just quit the tradition before I got a chance to try it out," he said with a shake of his head. "Yeah? Glad I'm signed up for it, then," he said. "You're the only Benjamin that I know. Or at least, the only one to be a contact in my phone." His contact list was pretty sparse. He wasn't much of a casual texter. He chuckled when Ben commented on his being a doctor of science. "I am. But no one likes it when someone brags about being a doctor of science." Truthfully, it had been a lot of work, and he was still paying off student loans. But he liked teaching well enough. He'd had too many shitty professors along the way to not try to be one of the better ones, even if it was only better in comparison. "See, the idea of jogging is just so fundamentally unpleasant that I've decided to avoid it at all costs." The last time he'd tried it had been the treadmill fiasco, so it was clearly for good reason. More beneficial for his health not to jog, if you thought about it.

Ben

“You might be right on that assumption, but there’s only one way to find out...” Ben really hoped that Quinn wanted someone who could be obedient. Who was obedient. He just hoped that they were truly as compatible as they seemed to be. “I’m the only one, really?” So he could have just left it at Benjamin. Too late for regrets now. He almost never used his full name with anyone, but giving it to Quinn just felt right. With Quinn’s beautiful voice, he wanted to be Benjamin. “It’s not bragging. I’m more than happy to listen to you talking about your accomplishments, Sir.” That was true; even though Ben might not understand it all, he was definitely going to try. He laughed at Quinn’s feelings about jogging, propping his chin up on his knuckles again. “I just like the scenery changes better than I like the treadmill. And I can run at my perfect pace, not at a weird increment that’s just a tiny bit off. And I can slow down or speed up as much as I want whenever I want.” He realized soon after that he was probably rambling. “There are a lot of pros to it, I mean. I like it. But I’m not gonna push you into going jogging just because I like it. It’s perfectly normal to disagree with me, I mean. The gym is nice for weights, though.”

Quinn

And an awfully flirty comment coming from the youngest Elman. He was pleased with his poker face because if he didn't have one, he might very well have fallen right out of his stool. "And would you like for me to find out?" Asked innocently enough. He didn't bother putting any innuendo into the question because the words spoke for themselves. "You are," he added in response to Ben's question. Well aren't you just the cutest. He was hot, to be sure, but somehow he managed to be both all at once. "I'll let you in on a little secret, then. Half the reason I got my doctorate is because I knew the hot professor thing would work for me," he joked. Well, half-joked. The tie and button down sleeves rolled up to his elbows only served to emphasize his point. "Oh, I don't get along with a treadmill either," he replied immediately. "Probably wouldn't have bit the dust the other day if I had just gone on a jog outside." It was cute, though, the rambling about jogging. Quinn might actually consider rolling out of bed at a semi-decent hour to go on a jog with him. God, wasn't that a horrifying thought? "Yeah, I'll be sticking with the weights there from now on."

Ben

The question sounded so innocuous, but if Ben had been any less stable, it might’ve taken him out. Yes, it’s what I’ve been trying to get you to ask the whole night...! “I think I’d like that, Sir,” he replied after taking a deep breath to steady himself. That was the hardest part; admitting that he wanted that. He did it, though. He did it. “The hot professor thing really works for you. Like, really.” That was what he’d been thinking about the whole night, after all. Raising his eyebrows at Quinn’s seemingly continuous failures in cardio, he nodded at the comment about sticking to weights. “Well, if you ever need a spotter, you know where to find one. Especially now.”

Quinn

"Good boy, Benjamin. Thank you for telling me," he said, a sincere compliment as he looked at him across the counter. He stood up from his stool, knowing that both he and Brooke were likely wanting to close up shot, and he'd lingered long past his welcome. Well. Brooke had never failed him as a wingwoman before. Grinning at the compliment, he took his coat in hand. "Thank you. Hot waiter is not a trope I'd considered before, and yet..." He teased as he let his sentence trail off. "Oh? I suppose we'll have to work off those Oreos somehow." He contemplated making a comment about him getting too distracted, but he was still playing the balancing game, not flirting too much at once.

Ben

Oh, holy shit... Ben had to grip the counter to keep himself from stumbling. At the same time, he bit down on his tongue to keep himself from moaning. The words replayed over and over again in his mind, though. Good boy, Benjamin. Good boy, Benjamin. Good boy, Benjamin. “Oh, wait, don’t you want change for that...?” He asked as he saw Quinn gathering his coat. Picking up the check and the payment off of the counter, he figured Quinn had to want change; it was a pretty big tip otherwise. “Yeah, hot waiter isn’t exactly... peak sexy, I’ll admit,” he chuckled in concession. He was a service sub, though; with a little twist, something like this could be incredibly sexy to him. “I guess we will.” He did want to spend more time with Quinn outside of work; he’d do pretty much anything to get it. But he couldn’t just reach for him and ask him to stay until the end of his shift, to his dismay. “Just text me whenever. Seriously. I’m always around, Sir.” He sincerely hoped that that would be enough.

Quinn

Quinn saw the reaction to his words and seriously contemplated taking him home with him right now. His shift was clearly over, and those three words likely wouldn't have had such an effect on him if he were submitting regularly. "No change. I got excellent service," he replied with a grin. He thought about how Ben was easily the sexiest waiter he'd seen, but that was a thought better stuck in his head. Not to mention, he wasn't usually in the habit of having extended conversations with his waiters, so that ruled out a good deal of them out of hand. Whenever, he noted. The invitation was really open, and he couldn't help but wonder again if he wanted to do this right now. "What are you doing after your shift ends?" This was why his time management went to hell. He found a pretty sub and there went his plans to grade.

Ben

"Do you want to leave a note for Brooke letting her know you had good service at the diner tonight?" he teased, trying to get his mind to quiet down -- good boy, Benjamin -- it would be for the best if it just let him focus on the conversation at hand. "But thanks. Really." The tip was excessive, but Ben wasn't going to insist on giving the money back to Quinn. He could buy himself an extra hot chocolate or three in the morning. Or rent a movie. Or buy a toy. He could treat himself to something, and he was grateful. "After my shift..." he repeated, running his thumb over his lower lip, looking down at the counter as if he was contemplating. "Well, I was going to go home and make dinner, but now that I've already had dinner, it looks like my planner's empty. Why?" His eyes returned to Quinn's face as he spoke. Ben was almost bouncing on his toes with enthusiasm. He wanted the invitation - was it a dream that he was getting it so soon? Was he daydreaming? Had Quinn already left the diner, leaving him in the relative silence of the old Edgewater establishment? Or was this reality? Was he about to get something that he'd wanted since he first laid eyes on Quinn again...?

Quinn

“I might just. Never had a favorite waiter before, so here’s to new experiences,” he replied with an easygoing grin. He was aware that this tip was certainly bordering on excessive, but Ben didn’t seem to mind. Things were just easy with him in a way they hadn’t been since-. He should put the brakes on this. Logically he knew that. Still, was he going to actually listen to logic where Ben was involved? Probably fucking not. “I’m interested to find out if your claim about being Edgewater’s most rebellious sub is accurate,” he admitted. “I know it’s a rather last minute invitation; if you’d rather plan for another time, that can be arranged, too.” It was nice, knowing that regardless, Ben was interested in exploring this with him at some point. They had the hardest part of the conversation out of the way, now it was just a matter of when.

Ben

"Here's to new experiences," he repeated back with a smile, Quinn's grin enough to make Ben want to return it. Going to the cash register, he quickly put away what Quinn owed, storing the rest in his own tip compartment, closing things up after that. Turning his attention back to Quinn, his heart almost leapt out of his chest. "It's not accurate," he replied, unable to bite his tongue. "Unless rebellion is your thing? I could be- I mean- fuck--" he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Forcing himself to take a breath before he continued, he nodded. "I mean, now's good - not now, but, like..." glancing at the clock on the wall, he nodded. "Twenty minutes from now? I'm free. Are you sure you don't have... like... other things? You don't have to be up too early for this? Because I want this. I do - I just- are you sure?" Trying to get his words straight, Ben looked over at Quinn, both excited and anxious at the same time. "If you wanna sit with me 'til the end of my shift, we can maybe discuss limits and the rest? Unless somebody else comes in before my replacement, then I'd have to worry about them, but - if nobody does...? We could talk?"

Quinn

They were back to the part where Ben was incredibly flustered once again. “No, I didn’t think it was,” he agreed with a smile. “You like being a good boy too much to misbehave, right?” he asked, wanting to reach out and brush his hands through his hair but holding back for now. “Twenty minutes, sure. I can help you put the chairs on top of tables or whatever you do to close up shop, too,” he offered. He didn’t mind being put to work, particularly now that the place was Brooke’s. “I’m sure, Ben,” he added, making sure to make eye contact with him to drive the message home. “I’m interested in you. And I’m flattered that you’re willing to try this with me.” He wanted to make sure Ben was aware that he was wanted, too. Quinn then set his coat back down, pulling up the seat he’d just vacated. “Let’s talk about it,” he agreed.

Ben

"The more you call me good boy on shift, the less my brain realizes I'm on shift," he pointed out. As much as he wanted to drop to his knees right then and there, he couldn't exactly do that -- he was still working, after all. "The diner's 24/7, Sir. I'm not closing, I'm just off-shift. We've got replacements coming in in 20 minutes." Nineteen minutes. God, if only time could move a little bit faster, Ben would appreciate it endlessly. When Quinn pointed out that he was interested in him, Ben had to do his best to keep from blushing. "I'm flattered that you're willing to try this with me, too." Going to lean back against the counter, he nodded in agreement. It was an easy enough discussion to have; he'd had it plenty of times before. "My safeword is shortstop. My hard limits are scat, needle play, age play, and degradation. Softer limits are watersports, public sex, and heavy pain play."

Quinn

"Well, I can't have you distracted if there's a last minute customer, can I?" He took the hint, not wanting to overuse it anyway. "Is it really? Here I was thinking Edgewater's too small to have anything that's open at all hours." He wondered if that was a Brooke decision, or if it had been that way for a while and he just hadn't noticed. He was sure that they got some customers at 3 A.M., probably more around the weekend. Then Ben was complimenting him once again, and he was pulled out of his speculation. He smiled before listening as Ben went into the basic safeword, hard limits, soft limits spiel. "And what are your favorite things to do?" he asked, wanting to have the information instead of just guessing at it. "As for me, I use the stoplight system, and my hard limits are scat, vore, and age play."

Ben

"I appreciate that," he replied sincerely; if there was a last minute customer, god forbid, Ben didn't want to be as distracted as he was at any moment that Quinn decided to call him good boy. "Yeah, we get the three am customers in from Rammer Jammer drunk off their asses, because nothing says drunk food like fries and pancakes." He took the overnight shifts more often than usual, mostly because it was easier for him to handle the drunk crowds than any of the women who worked at the diner. He'd pretty much learned the ways of the customers by now. He just did his best to make sure that everyone left Mac's happy. "Stoplight system works for me, too," he quickly clarified - it was good to have something like 'yellow', something that said they needed to pause as opposed to a hard stop like a safeword brought. "As for my favorite things..." This was harder to talk about for Ben; it was easier to have quick hookups where neither of them cared about boxes being checked, favorites being hit. Nevertheless, he spoke up. "Um, I like bondage, ropes are better than leather, but either are good -- and orgasm control, those are the big two. Power exchange is good for me, body worship, sensory play, um... marking. I'm sure there's more, but... not at the top of my head. There's more stuff that I do like than stuff that I don't, let's say that."

Quinn

"Kinda forgot how popular the Rammer Jammer gets," he admitted. He hadn't been there since he'd been back, which was a testament to Everett not calling him for a ride home. Probably had other people to call since he'd gotten used to him not being around. "Gotta soak up the alcohol, though, right?" he asked with a playful roll of his eyes. He'd stumbled upon way too many people who genuinely believed the myth. Short stop and stop light, he noticed. Easy to remember. Then when he went into specific questions, Quinn thought about making a note on his phone, but he decided he'd do that once he was alone. It wasn't that serious, but he did like knowing what, specifically, Ben wanted. He was a little surprised that praise hadn't made the list because calling him a good boy had had such an effect on him. "Good," he said, leaving off the boy, as promised. He could work with all of that, and it had given him plenty to choose from, including two favorites. He thought about combining them, seeing how long Ben could last. He had fifteen minutes plus the drive home to decide how he wanted the scene to play out.

Ben

"Yeah, I don't really stay that late ever when I'm there, but I know that there are people who love it, and who am I to judge them...?" He was too much of a lightweight to fully enjoy the bar scene. But Theo did work there, so he did have to stop by every so often to say hello, to enjoy the company, to soak up the social scene, and nurse a beer. "Oh, yeah, um - I didn't mention praise, or, like, hair pulling - did I say hair pulling? I like it when people play with my hair. And body worship. I can't remember what I said at all, the words came out of my mouth and my brain decided to forget them." He nodded a bit, tapping his fingers on the counter, trying to recall what he'd said shortly before. "Um - did I ask what you like? Cause I wanna know what you like, too. Like... I want to make you feel good, you know? As a Dom, what makes you feel good?" He was genuinely curious; he did like to please his Dom whenever possible. And now they had plenty of time for Ben to get antsy with anticipation.

Quinn

"The latest I've ever stayed there was back when I wasn't old enough to buy my own drinks." It was beyond easy to get someone who was old enough to buy drinks to get one for you, but he didn't let himself think too much about that. That had been Callan's scene. Like Ben had read his mind, he mentioned praise and hair pulling, and Quinn added that to the mental list he had going. "Brains do that sometimes," he assured with a fond smile. "And if you'd like to know, I'll repeat what you said back to me," he said. It was worth note that he mentioned body worship twice. Maybe he'd tie him up and kiss him all over until he was begging. The thought sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. Ben changed gears, and Quinn nodded. "Thanks for asking. I do like a well-behaved sub. I don't mind putting a brat in their place, per se, but it's nice to just reward good behavior." He paused, considering. "Other than that, we have a lot of common interests. Edging, bondage... I might not tie your hands tonight so you're free to explore. Or I might make you wait for it, depending on your preference."

Ben

"Oh, god, I remember those days..." Ben admitted sheepishly. When he'd graduated high school, his siblings had brought him there, buying him drinks until he was too drunk to know his own name. "I really only go because my best friend works there. Bars aren't really my scene." He was glad that Quinn could repeat back what Ben said, because Ben genuinely couldn't remember half the things that had left his lips. "Did I mention power exchange and bondage?" He figured he had, but his mouth was moving faster than his mind could keep up. "Can you tell I'm nervous? But, like, good nervous. Excited nervous." Taking a deep breath, Ben shot a look at the clock. Less than ten minutes to go. "I'd like to think I'm a well-behaved sub. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been punished in my life, so... that's good, right?" Almost bouncing on his toes, Ben nodded along as Quinn spoke. "I -- I want you to surprise me. Is that asking too much? I trust you. If I didn't trust you I wouldn't have agreed to submit to you so quickly. I trust you - all that to say that I want you... to do what you think's best for both of us. I trust your mind, Sir."

Quinn

If you grew up in this town, it was all but predestined that you had some embarrassing story that happened at the Rammer Jammer. How many embarrassing stories; however, that all depends on a person's personality. "Yeah? Who's that?" He was just asking to make conversation. It was important to know things about any sub he was planning to do a scene with. Just run of the mill holding a conversation. "You did," he confirmed. "Ropes are better than leather, but either are good. You also mentioned orgasm control, sensory play, and marking." He neglected to mention the fact that he'd brought up body worship twice, although he found it endearing. "Excited nervous is good. We have the stoplight system if it ever gets into bad nervous," he said, which of course Ben already knew. Still, it seemed prudent to mention it again. He was well aware that Ben was giving him something with all of this. He wanted him to know that he wasn't taking it lightly. "That is good," he agreed. He listened intently as Ben said that he wanted him to surprise him, smiling again. "That's not too much. That's what it's all about, right? None of this works if the trust isn't there."

Ben

"Oh, her name's Theo. Theodora Flanigan. She's my age. You might've seen her around the house once or twice when we were kids." He was more than happy to talk about Theo; it was easier to talk about her than it was to talk about himself, after all. When Quinn started listing back everything he said, Ben nodded along. "Okay - yeah - yeah, I like all of that stuff. All of that stuff is really good. You said edging? That's good. Okay. We're on the same page." Taking another deep breath to calm his racing heart, Ben gave Quinn a smile. "We still have the stoplight system. We're green right now, I'm green, I mean. This is good. I'm looking forward to it." Fiddling with his hands a little bit, he glanced at the clock again, eagerly waiting for his shift to end. "Yeah, that's what it's all about. And I do trust you. I do. I've known you practically all my life, I know you aren't going to do anything to, like, hurt me or anything. It'll be nice." When his replacement finally - finally - walked through the door, Ben gave him a smile and a pleasant greeting about the night. Taking off his apron, he nodded again to Quinn. "Okay... ready...?"

Quinn

"The name sounds familiar," Quinn replied. It was Edgewater. What name didn't sound familiar? He noticed Ben relax a little bit when he asked about her, though, so he decided to continue talking about her. "What's she up to when she's not wrangling patrons at the Rammer Jammer?" he joked. It was good to hear back from his sub that they were on the same page. It had been a while since he'd so obviously overwhelmed a person, and as much as he was enjoying it, he really didn't want to take advantage. That smile of Ben's had to be enough to level the playing field, though. And when Ben started using the stoplight system before he even asked, the feeling of fondness hit him again. He glanced over at the clock when Ben did, also more than ready to head out. Quinn decided against pointing out the fact that he really hadn't been around a whole lot in the past thirteen years. People could change after all. He had in a lot of ways. But the main point of acknowledging that was knowing that he wasn't going to hurt him. He wouldn't. Fortunately, Ben's replacement came a little early. He wondered if that was a norm, people coming slightly early to their shifts to relieve the next person. In a place like Mac's, it definitely seemed plausible. "I am. Do you want to follow me to my place?" he asked, coat in one hand, bag slung over his shoulder. He didn't want Ben to be without a ride if he didn't end up wanting to stay the night.

Ben

"Yeah, but it's Edgewater. Every name of somebody who grew up here sounds familiar," he pointed out, pushing a hand through his hair again, the product he'd used to smooth some of it back quickly losing its grip on his hair, causing some of his curls to fall into his face. He was practically bouncing with excitement as he went to clock out, grabbing his keys and his coat and leaving his apron behind. Fidgeting with the keys in his hand, he nodded at Quinn's suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds great." He was going to offer to take Quinn's bag for him, but given the fact that they were driving separately, Ben didn't want to accidentally forget Quinn's bag in his car and leave him without his work materials. He'd offer small acts of submission elsewhere, then. "My car's the black one, over there--" he pointed at one end of the parking lot, scratching at the back of his neck. "Just so you know I'm not some random creep that's following you. I'm me." He tried to joke, giving a little smile. "I'll be right behind you, here's to hoping I don't get lost on these streets I've known my entire life."

Quinn

Quinn chuckled when Ben caught him in his non-committal comment. Truly, he didn't really remember any of the friends Ben had over when he hung out at the Elman place. Then they were headed outside into the crisp autumn air, and Quinn was glad that it was only a short walk to his vehicle, a white Equinox that was a few years old. "I'll make sure not to lose you. The traffic in this place is just awful," he said with a playful roll of his eyes. "See you when we get there," he said, settling into his car and turning on the heat. It was a pretty short drive, so it probably wouldn't even properly kick in until he got to his place. He made sure Ben was ready before he drove out of Mac's parking lot. He wasn't committed to staying in Edgewater long enough to buy a house, but he didn't mind his apartment. It wasn't as cluttered with boxes as it had once been, but it wasn't fit for company according to the standards he was raised on, either. He didn't feel self-conscious, though; he doubted Ben would judge. He mulled over what he wanted to do as he drove, careful not to get too distracted. He stepped out of his car when they got to the parking lot, gathering his things once again. This time it was his turn to ask if Ben was ready. "Still green?" he asked instead when he saw him.

Ben

"Oh, yeah, I've never sat in worse traffic in my life," Ben joked in return, unlocking his old Camaro convertible - something he'd spent plenty of paychecks saving up for, and something he still treasured to this day. "See you then." Going to get in the car, he didn't bother with the heat, figuring it would take too long to warm up between Mac's and Quinn's apartment. Edgewater wasn't exactly big, and it wasn't as if it was as cold as it got in winter quite yet. Following close behind Quinn's Equinox, Ben tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, both nervous and excited at the same time. It would be nice to scene with Quinn, nice to scene in general, but he was especially glad that it was Quinn. Once they reached an apartment complex that wasn't too far from Ben's own apartment, he took the parking spot beside Quinn's, climbing out of his car and locking it behind him. "Yes, Sir, still green," he replied confidently. "Can I take your bag for you? So your hands aren't so full?"

Quinn

"Good," Quinn replied with a small smile. "Nice car, by the way," he added, glancing over at it. He really didn't know much about cars in general, but a convertible definitely suited him. He could easily picture himself in the passenger's seat as they drove with the top down, showing Ben a new song he found. Of course, that would probably have to wait until summer, and that was something Quinn wasn't going to think about. "You can, thank you, Ben," Quinn replied to his next question. He hadn't yet put his bag over his shoulder yet, so it was easy enough to hand it over. He led the way inside his apartment complex, stopping in front of apartment 23. "That can just go on the table, thanks," he said, referring to what could technically be considered a dining room table, even though there were only four chairs, and there was no way in hell he'd be able to fit all of the aunts, uncles, and cousins at it. Lucky for him, he wasn't planning on hosting any family holidays anytime soon. Meanwhile, he busied himself getting both of them a glass of water.

Ben

“Oh, thanks. My pride and joy,” he admitted, looking down at the car. He already missed being able to drive with the top down during the warm summer months. He just had to wait the rest of the year before he could do that again. “My pleasure, Sir,” he replied with a smile, taking the bag from him and draping it over his shoulder. Following him up to the apartment, he noticed that it was still not quite unpacked, but who was Ben to judge? He hadn’t moved in the past four years, but, if he were to move, he would definitely take his time unpacking, too. Nodding at the instructions, he went and sat the bag down on the table, looking around. “It’s nice here. Cozy,” he smiled over at Quinn, leaning against the table. He could definitely see himself feeling at home here, but he decided against mentioning that. “I like it.”

Quinn

Quinn very nearly made a comment about how he hoped that would be the theme of the night, Ben’s pleasure, but he decided against it. He wanted to get Ben acclimated to his place a little bit before he got him flustered. “Yeah? The half unpacked boxes do it for ya?” he teased as he handed over a glass of water, taking a sip of his own. “Thanks for not minding it,” he said seriously. “My mom would be absolutely horrified that I’m allowing company in with my apartment looking like this, but I didn’t think you’d mind.” His tone was joking again, easygoing, wanting to make sure Ben was comfortable before he dragged him unceremoniously off to the bedroom. Normally, he’d have no qualms about it. They had their stoplights, after all. Stop lights and shortstop, and yes, the baseball reference was endearing too.

Ben

“It’s not the boxes, it’s... I don’t know, the place. It’s... I don’t know. It’s like you. Just showed up in Edgewater, for the first time in over a decade, still settling in, but... it suits you, you know?” Reaching for his glass of water and thanking Quinn for it, Ben took a little sip, shrugging. “Well, good thing I won’t tell your mom,” he teased back playfully, drinking more of the water. He knew he’d have to be hydrated for the scene; he was grateful for Quinn for taking that into account. “I’m happy to be here, really.” The more they stood there, though, the more antsy Ben became. He was excited, but the longer he had to wait, the more curious he got. Quickly finishing the glass of water, Ben set the cup aside, giving Quinn a smile. “Thanks again for that.”

Quinn

“I’ll take that as a compliment, then,” Quinn replied with a smile. He finished about half of his own glass before setting it down, deciding he’d come back for the rest. “Of course. You’re welcome to anything here,” he replied before reaching out to take Ben’s hand, showing him the way to the bedroom. He’d been wanting to touch him all night, and now the slightest thing had him all but vibrating. He already had an idea of what he wanted to do. “Take off your shoes, socks, and shirt, and kneel on the bed with your back facing me.” Quinn let go of his hand so he could follow his instructions, bending down to take off his converse and mismatched socks.

Ben

“Oh, yeah, it is a compliment. I promise.” He did mean what he had said— he really did think that Quinn’s place felt nice. Ben could definitely feel comfortable there. As soon as Quinn took his hand, Ben felt his heart pick up with excitement. Taking a deep breath, he let himself focus on the feeling of Quinn’s hand in his; it was softer than he expected, but a good size for holding, relative to Ben’s own hand. Following him into the bedroom, he did his best to keep himself from bouncing with excitement. As soon as Quinn uttered the word kneel, Ben felt his excitement pick up even more. “Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir...” he murmured happily, taking another deep breath. Bending down, he undid the laces on his shoes, tugging them off and putting them neatly off to the side, placing his socks inside of them. Then, he stood, tugging off his shirt. After folding it, he dropped it to sit on top of his shoes. Then, he finally made his way to the bed, climbing onto it, and kneeling with his back to Quinn, his butt resting on his calves, palms face up on his thighs. Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath, letting the feeling of kneeling for the first time in a while consume him. It felt amazing.

Quinn

"Good boy," Quinn murmured, taking in the sight of him, letting him kneel untouched for a moment. He was even more gorgeous with these extra layers removed, and Quinn was still contemplating all of the possibilities. He had time; Ben seemed more than content to be kneeling for him. Next time, he'd have him waiting and kneeling. If there was a next time. Normally, he was ambivalent about whether or not there was a next time. Shaking off the thought, Quinn focused again on the task at hand. Kneeling on the bed put Ben at an ideal height for what Quinn was going to do next. Typically, he'd do a quick hook up, but sometimes he liked to take his time. He hoped Ben wanted to take his time. Quinn stepped forward, putting his hands on Ben's shoulders and starting to massage his bare skin. He applied light pressure at first, not wanting to accidentally hurt him. His hands drifted downward, applying consistent pressure, and even as he was tempted to dip his head and press a kiss to the back of his neck, he held off for the moment, instead interested in Ben's reaction to what he was doing so far.

Ben

The praise drew a hum from his lips, Ben's eyes fluttering shut for a minute. He really couldn't overestimate the amount he liked to be called a good boy; he practically lived for the praise. He let the feeling of kneeling relax him, deciding against kneeling up - if Quinn wanted him to lift his ass off his legs, he was sure that Quinn would say so. His mind was silenced, no longer wondering about what Quinn wanted to do to him, with him, now just appreciating the feeling of being on his knees on the bed, the mattress far more comfortable than most other surfaces he'd knelt on in the past. "Oh, fuck..." he whispered as soon as he felt Quinn massaging his shoulders. He figured that he was allowed to speak - Quinn didn't gag him, didn't give him orders to hold his tongue, so why wouldn't he be allowed to comment? "Sir, your hands... where did you learn how to do that...?" Biting his lip gently, he could feel the stress running off of him in waves. "Mmm... thank you..." His muscles had been tenser than he realized, but, now, with Quinn working the tension out of them, he felt much looser, much more relaxed... the fact that subspace was already creeping in proved that to him.

Quinn

Feeling Ben relax under his hands was yet another good sign. Even though he'd explicitly stated that he trusted him, the first time doing a scene with someone could be a nerve-wracking experience. Quinn wanted him to feel as relaxed as possible. Safe with him. He smiled when Ben first spoke, a quiet curse word that was further indication that he was doing something right. He didn't really have an answer for how he'd gotten so good at it. It was just instinctual, a habit he'd picked up in college after someone had helped him out of a terrible drop. "You're welcome, handsome." He kept at it for a few more minutes before pulling his hands back. "Now, I'd like you to stand up and take off the rest of your clothes. Then get back on the bed, this time on all fours. I'm going to let you touch yourself while I rim you. I want you to say my name only when you're getting close. Then you stop, and wait for instructions. You may not come until I say so. Understood?"

Ben

Ben practically felt like putty in Quinn’s hands as the Dom continued to work at his muscles. He could certainly get used to this. He’d have to learn Quinn’s tricks for himself, too, already hoping to return the favor one day. His mind was nearly blank when he heard Quinn speak up again. He stayed silent as he gave the instructions, nodding along ever so slightly to show that he was listening. Every step of it seemed more exciting than the first. With a shiver running through him, Ben nodded. “I understand, Sir.” Rolling out of his kneeling position, he climbed off of the bed, making quick work of his slacks and his underwear. He wasn’t ashamed of his body; he never had been. He just wanted Quinn to like it, too. As he folded the clothes, he snuck a glance over at Quinn, trying not to moan at the knowledge that he was fully nude and Quinn was fully dressed. Climbing back onto the bed, he settled himself on all fours, making sure he was both comfortable and stable. He was genuinely looking forward to this- he’d never felt quite so excited about submitting before, and he wanted Quinn to have a good time Domming him. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his hands just enough that he could comfortably wrap a hand around himself and stay balanced, his head hanging down as he gave himself a single stroke to test the water, a sharp inhale accompanying it. Eager wouldn’t even begin to cover how Ben was feeling in the moment.

Quinn

Ben was nothing if not respectful, never forgetting a title. It made him consider asking Ben to call him something different, besides sir. Sir was fine, but it was a bit nondescript. Neutral. He likely called every Dominant he came upon sir when they were first introduced. Filing that thought away for later, he watched Ben undress the rest of the way. The phrase body worship came to mind, and a part of him just wanted to pay special attention to all of him. Memorize every detail. For now, though, he just let his gaze linger. "Did you know that you're absolutely gorgeous, Benjamin?" The question slipped past his lips so casually, like he was pointing out the weather, but with a simmering heat behind it. Once again, he let Ben get himself positioned, this time loosening his tie and taking it off. Next came his shirt, right after Ben reacted to his own touch. His pants stayed on for the moment, and he figured his shirtlessness would come as a surprise when he turned Ben over. The bed dipped a little as Quinn came to join him, running a slow hand over the perfect curve of his ass. His own hard on was visible through his pants, now, and this was going to be an exercise in self-control for him as well. He then parted his cheeks and teased Ben's entrance with his tongue, exploring.

Ben

Taking a few deep breaths, Ben let his eyes slip shut, absorbing the moment without letting his eyes get distracted. He focused on the texture of the blankets beneath his hands and knees, the feeling of the air against his bare skin, the feeling of subspace at the edges of his mind slowly seeping in. When Quinn spoke up again, it took Ben a moment to respond, to breathe through the blush it raised to his cheeks and the shiver it sent through his skin. "Thank you, Sir..." he murmured back, shifting his hands and knees slightly. Taking another deep breath, he could hear Quinn's words echoing through his mind, the air in the room crackling like it was electric against his skin. It felt like Quinn was leaving him waiting like that on purpose, but who was Ben to say what Quinn was doing? He trusted him; he was letting Quinn Dom him, after all. Finally, after what felt like a millennia, he felt the bed dipping behind him. A shiver ran down his spine at the feeling of Quinn's hand running down his ass, Ben's mouth hanging open in desire. Forcing himself to raise a hand to his mouth, he spat in it for lubrication's sake, before wrapping it around his length, just as Quinn's tongue pressed against his hole. He moaned quietly, beginning to stroke himself at a leisurely rate, trying to match Quinn's pace. "Oh my god..." he whispered, mind nearly blank with desire. "Thank you..."

Quinn

Figuring that he must be doing something right with Ben's thanks, he kept going, varying his tactics as he went. Quinn moved down to lick along his taint before moving back, his lips forming an o as he lightly blew along where his tongue had once been. He gave a light press of his tongue against his hole before pressing in as far as he could. After he pulled back again, he took his time spelling Ben's name with his tongue, all thirteen letters. He listened the whole time, making sure that it was well received. He wasn't sure how Ben felt about rimming alone, but combined with giving himself a hand job, Quinn was sure that he would be able to get himself close, just like he was hoping for. The discomfort of his hard on straining through his pants was hardly noticeable as he distracted himself with Ben's glorious reactions to his ministrations.

Ben

The feelings were indescribable, every sensation amplified. Every time he felt Quinn's breath against his skin, he felt shivers going through him. What Quinn could do with his mouth was unbeatable. And the feeling of his tongue pressing into him was amazing. He tried to keep his strokes paced evenly, despite how ragged his breaths were, a moan breaking his lips every so often. He could feel himself getting closer and closer, pressing himself to last longer despite his hand picking up speed. He'd lost track of time long before he could feel himself getting close to climax, forcing his hand back to the bed as his mouth finally managed to speak Quinn's name, teeth biting down at his lips, hands curling in the blankets. "Oh my god -- Quinn--" his breathing was ragged at best, his whole body feeling like it was being shocked in the best way possible. He could feel an ache in him, an ache that would surely be worth it when Quinn allowed him to cum in the end - if Quinn allowed him to cum in the end. Even if he didn't, it would be worth it. This felt amazing.

Quinn

Ben's moans continued to affect him, even as he was listening for the sound of his own name on his lips. He couldn't wait to hear how it sounded, desperate and close. As he continued to use his breath and tongue, he pulled back immediately when Ben managed to say his name. Not a moment before, even though the oh my god would have made him smirk in satisfaction. He gave Ben a moment to collect himself, listening to his ragged breaths. "On your back, sweetheart." He cringed immediately after the term of endearment rolled off his lips, and he was just glad that Ben hadn't seen it. Where had that come from? He didn't just... Call people he did a scene with pet names. Sure, he'd called him a good boy, but that was different. Quickly correcting himself before he got lost in his thoughts, he scooted up so he was laying alongside Ben, on his side so he could get a good look at him. "Color?" Quinn prompted, his pointer finger tracing lightly over Ben's abs, very tempted to glance down at his dick, but for now just curiously watching his face.

Ben

The pet name was endearing - if Ben had been any more grounded in reality, he would have loved to say something about it. But, instead, all he could do was lower himself to the bed and roll over onto his back, pushing some of his hair out of his face. Finally managing to catch his breath, he laid his eyes on Quinn for the first time, and he looked amazing shirtless. It made Ben want to reach out and touch, but he wasn't sure if he was allowed to. "Green, Sir," he replied as soon as he was prompted to give his color, his hand moving to run over Quinn's shoulder and collarbones, forgetting about the fact that he hadn't asked permission to touch. He figured that Quinn would have told him if he wasn't allowed. Words weren't coming as easily to him - it was likely due to subspace creeping into his mind - but he knew better than to leave a prompt for a color hanging, especially when he felt as good as he did. Nodding a tiny bit, he let his eyes slip shut for a minute, appreciating the feeling of Quinn's finger running over his abs.

Quinn

Edging could get intense, and even though Ben had listed it as one of his top two favorites, Quinn was going to keep checking in for as many times as he was close and not allowed to come. Being brought to the edge once could be frustrating enough, and Quinn was planning to do it at least one more time before he let Ben have his release. He was thinking that the third time would be the charm, and he'd make it a surprise for Ben, continuing with the theme of saying his name and telling him he could come right after he did. For the moment, though, he was content to let Ben come down a little bit before he started in again. It took him by surprise when Ben touched him without asking for permission once he answered his question. He hadn't told him he couldn't, though, and really, Quinn had wanted him to. He glanced down at Ben's cock, red and leaking pre-cum, and then back up to his face, surprisingly relaxed for just having been denied an orgasm. He let a few more minutes pass before he started moving to position himself between Ben's legs. "This time I'm going to blow you. You can put your hands wherever you'd like them. Same deal, say my name when you're getting close."

Ben

Ben did appreciate the check-ins; if he was any more coherent, he would have said so. Instead, he could just lay there, absorbing the feeling of the moment, of being in Quinn's bed, beside him, just an edge shy of an orgasm. His balls did ache, but it was a good sort of ache, like the ache after a workout. Propping his head up slightly against the pillows, he let himself breathe for an indeterminate amount of time, knowing that Quinn was keeping an eye on him. He felt so good, it was almost like he had left his body on the bed and was floating above it, the air electric around him, his body feeling so good he could almost cry. He felt the bed moving, so he opened his eyes again, looking to see Quinn positioned between his legs. If he could manage to speak very much, he would explain that Quinn was a far more generous Dom than many he'd been with in the past, and that Ben was appreciating every second of their time, but all he could do was nod, one hand curling up in Quinn's hair lazily. "Yes, Sir," he managed to roll the words off his tongue, giving him a smile to show that he was enjoying himself despite his lack of vocabulary at the moment.

Quinn

He'd been hoping that Ben would put his hand in his hair, but he wasn't going to order him to do it. He was enjoying himself regardless. Ben was a wonderful submissive, and the fact that he'd had such an easy time coming up with this scene on the fly just spoke to their compatibility. He ignored that for the moment, taking it slow as he pressed soft kisses to his inner thighs, first. One hand reached up to tease his thumb over his nipple, glancing up to watch Ben's face for just a moment. After a bit more teasing, he withdrew his hand to spit in it, giving Ben's dick a few lazy strokes as he tongued over the tip. He started with a slow rhythm at first, more teasing with his tongue than moving back and forth. The movement of his tongue was constant and intentional, one hand stroking where his mouth couldn't reach and the other holding Ben's hip.

Ben

Playing with Quinn's hair gently, Ben was enjoying the feeling of it between his fingers. It felt silky, perhaps even more so because of the way his senses felt heightened. A sharp inhale escaped his lips at the feeling of Quinn's thumb teasing over his nipple - he hadn't realized how sensitive they'd be until Quinn did that. As soon as Quinn's mouth was on him, Ben had to do his best not to squirm. It had been a long time since someone had blown him, and he was loving every second of it. His hand curled up a little tighter in Quinn's hair, teeth biting into his lower lip. "Oh my god--" he whispered, arching his hips up slightly. Ben had to do his best to refrain from saying Quinn's name, knowing he wasn't close enough to the edge for that quite yet. "Sir--"

Quinn

Even if Ben hadn't been making the most delicious noises in response to his mouth, the hand in his hair was an indication that he was enjoying himself. Quinn loved the feeling as his grip tightened, and huh, maybe hair pulling was on his list of things that he enjoyed. He usually told subs they couldn't touch when he was giving a blowjob, but Ben had been so good for him that he'd allowed it. He certainly didn't regret it even as his cock twitched in his pants again at the sensation. He kept his wits about him as he hollowed out his cheeks, careful not to suck too hard as he did so. Moaning around his cock to show just how into it he was, his hand moved from his hip to lightly brush over his balls. Quinn glanced up at Ben as he took a teasing pace before he ramped up the intensity, moving up and down, swirling his tongue around, and god was he tempted to get his lube from the drawer of his bedside table and add a finger, but they hadn't discussed that, so he refrained for this time.

Ben

It was almost as if every single thing that Quinn did, he did it because he could read Ben's mind. Each movement brought him closer and closer to the edge in the best way possible. His breath was ragged as he felt Quinn brush a hand over his balls, his eyes opening at the teasing pace. He gave a little whine, mouth hanging open with desire. That teasing didn't last for long, though - soon after, Quinn picked up the intensity of everything, and Ben threw his head back with pleasure. He could feel himself getting close to the edge again, his hand tightening in Quinn's hair. "Oh - fuck-- Quinn-" he blurted out quickly, trying not to push past the point of no return; better to stop now than to cum without permission. His hand remained curled in Quinn's hair, his head back against the pillow, mouth hanging open as he gasped for air, not realizing he'd been holding his breath between moans.

Quinn

Quinn kept up his pace, idly wondering how quickly he could bring Ben to the edge, so he was saying his name that way again. Just when his jaw started to ache, Ben said his name, and he dutifully pulled off with a slight pop. He pressed one small kiss to Ben's thigh before pulling completely back. This time, instead of laying next to him, Quinn got off the bed entirely. He took off his pants and boxers so he could put them in his hamper. His half hard dick was obvious, but he wasn't paying attention to see if Ben looked. Instead, he reached into the drawer beside his bed to grab the lube and a condom. The bed dipped again as he laid down next to Ben on his side once again. "Very good boy, Benjamin," he murmured, brushing a hand through his hair and taking in his facial expression. He'd been doing so well that Quinn had to contemplate whether or not he still wanted to surprise him and let him come or just tell him point blank that he could come whenever he wanted for this third time around.

Ben

A whine escaped his throat when Quinn pulled off of him and then climbed off of the bed; he wanted the lazy touches that had come after the edging prior to come this time around, too. But he wasn't in charge of the situation, thankfully - and it seemed like Quinn had other plans. When Quinn undressed, Ben couldn't help but let his eyes rake over his body. Of course, his body was just as beautiful as his face, and Ben felt his mouth watering with desire. Finally, Ben was given what he wanted prior when Quinn laid down beside him again. It felt like his whole body was going to melt into the bed at the praise, leaning into the hand in his hair, his eyes fluttering shut. "Thank you, Sir..." he managed to reply, the warmth of subspace drifting underneath his skin. He could lay like this for hours, he decided. It felt amazing.

Quinn

It was lucky that Ben seemed to enjoy all of the sexual positions he'd suggested so far. Not every guy could come from a blow job, nor did every guy enjoy being rimmed. Ben, though, had been so good throughout. He continued playing with Ben's hair as he let him come down for the second time. He really was beautiful. So well controlled, trusting, looking absolutely content even though he'd just denied him a second orgasm. No complaints, just pliant, laying next to him. He wasn't sure how long exactly he'd just laid there playing with his hair before he used his free hand to give himself a few good strokes. Between that and remembering how fucking hot Ben sounded moaning his name, it didn't take long at all for him to get hard. Then he pulled back his other hand, needing both to open the condom. Rolling it onto his dick, it occurred to him that he could make it four rounds, see how close he could get Ben from fingering him and stroking his dick. Maybe they'd work up to it. He didn't want to push too many limits their first time around. "Same rules. This time I'm going to fuck you. Color?"

Ben

It had been a long time since Ben had experienced anything like this. Most of his experience submitting was nonsexual, just submitting to fend away headaches and keep himself in his peak of health. When he was in high school, he had a few repeated scenes with people in his class and the class above him that were sexual, and the same thing applied to college, but since his college graduation, sexual submission had been rare. It was a disappointment to Ben, of course, who would have preferred to be submitting in every aspect of his life, but he didn't know what he was missing out on until tonight. Maybe it was best that he'd waited this long to submit sexually, because everything Quinn did seemed to hit. There were no strikeouts, no foul balls; it was home run after home run. Leaning into the hand in his hair, he finally opened his eyes when that hand was pulled away. He understood why the hand was taken from him, though. Condoms were important and Ben was glad that Quinn had one at the ready. He was able to answer with less of a pause this time; "I'm green, Sir, thank you for asking."

Quinn

Quinn smiled at Ben's sweet response, before taking the lube and applying some to his hole and some on his finger. He had no idea how regularly Ben was doing this sort of thing, so he planned to err on the side of caution and take his time fingering him before he tried to actually fuck him. He slowly pushed in with his pointer finger first, carefully watching his face. He didn't touch his dick, and he wouldn't until he was actively fucking him, wanting to make sure that Ben was as open and relaxed as possible. Once his finger was all the way in, he gently moved around until he found his prostate, and crooked his finger against it, a reward for taking his finger so well. While he did this, he watched Ben's face, remembering full well the dual sensation of pleasure and pain bottoming brought on even though he hadn't done it in years. Once he seemed adjusted to one finger, he pulled out, added lube to two fingers, and ever so slowly pushed in again, ready to slowly retreat if he was asked to stop.

Ben

The lube was cool, but not cold. Enough to ground him to reality for just a second longer. As Quinn pushed in, Ben inhaled sharply, his hand going to curl up in the blankets, unsure if he was still allowed to touch him. It took Ben another moment to relax, knowing that the experience wouldn't be good for either of them if he was so tense. Once he had relaxed, he felt Quinn's finger pushing in more, his eyes fluttering shut again. Then, though, he felt Quinn's finger prodding around inside of him until it hit just the right spot, his eyes snapping open again. His mouth hung open in a silent moan, his hips arching upwards. "Oh my god--" he whispered again, the only words his brain could manage to form, along with a moaned-out "Sir..." Resisting the urge to wrap a hand around himself, Ben managed to relax even more afterwards, another moan being dragged from him as Quinn pushed in two fingers. "Yes..." Maybe he had needed this more than he would've admitted. "Thank you..."

Quinn

All of Ben's reactions were going straight to his cock, but he had absolutely no intention of rushing the process for his own gratification. He gave Ben more time to adjust to his two fingers, brushing against his prostate once again. After a few teasing come here motions from his middle finger, he pulled out again. To Quinn, there was no such thing as too much lube, so he applied just a bit more to Ben's hole and a generous amount to his dick. Then he helped move Ben's legs so they were hooked around his shoulders, positioning himself accordingly. Now for the moment of truth. Slowly, he pushed inside, knowing that the most difficult part would be getting the head in. Luckily, Ben had been relaxed, so it was easy enough to slide in, the head of his cock sliding relatively seamlessly past the tight ring of muscle. He couldn't help himself as a moan snuck past his lips as he slowly but surely sank all the way in. He waited to move, wanting to give Ben all the time he needed to adjust to the difference.

Ben

Ben was grateful for the time that Quinn was giving him to adjust; he hadn't done anything like this in a long time, and heaven knew he needed that adjustment period. Thanks to that adjustment, he could enjoy the pleasure-pain feeling, as opposed to just feeling the pain. Every time Quinn's finger brushed against his prostate, a moan escaped his lips, his hands curling up tight in the blankets and his cock leaking precum. It felt like Quinn was taking him apart, watching him melt into the blankets, and Ben loved every second of it. It took him a moment to realize that Quinn had pulled his fingers out of him and was maneuvering his legs to be over his shoulders. Shifting slightly to get himself into a more comfortable position, he took a few deep breaths to relax himself once again, eyes on Quinn's face, as if he could read his mind by looking him in the eyes. "Oh, fuck..." he groaned at the feeling of Quinn pushing inside of him. He could hear Quinn's moan, which drew another moan from him. "Thank you--" he whispered, mouth hanging open slightly, hips pressed up towards Quinn a little more. Nodding, he pushed some of his hair out of his eyes again, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Thank you Sir--"

Quinn

It took all of his restraint to take things slow. Ben felt so good, tight around his dick, moaning and thanking him, and he hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes until he opened them to see Ben’s slight smile. “So good for me, Ben,” he said, a hand reaching forward to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. He let it linger for just a moment before pulling back and starting to move. He took a painfully slow pace at first, pulling back and pushing in again, the head of his cock brushing against that bundle of nerves, watching Ben’s face every time as his own breathing grew a little ragged. He was so ready to come, but he was drawing out this last part as long as he could.

Ben

Leaning into the hand on his cheek, Ben moaned a little bit at the praise. This all felt like a dream, a wonderful dream, a dream that, if he could choose, he would never wake up from. When Quinn started moving, it was at an achingly slow pace, as if Quinn was trying to tease him. Every time Quinn's cock brushed against his prostate, though, he felt like fireworks were going off inside of him, his cock leaking against his stomach. "Please, Sir--" he whispered, knowing he could hold on a little longer - at least long enough to make Quinn proud of him. "Oh-fuck--" he had to do his best to keep his hands to himself, curling up tight in the blankets. A little moan escaped his throat every time Quinn thrusted, sweat matting some of his hair to his forehead. He didn't want it to end.}

Quinn

This was without a doubt the best scene he'd had in a long time, but as much as he wanted it to last, Ben had been very good for him. He was going to let him come this time, just as soon as he said his name. He picked up his pace slowly, from teasing to more intense to all but relentless. He wondered if Ben would be able to come untouched if he kept it up. Either way it would be hot. He wanted to know what he looked like when he finally got to let go, even though he knew the clench of Ben's tight ass around his cock would be his own undoing. He was already holding himself back, having worked himself up in addition to Ben, although not quite as much. Fortunately, he still had his wits about him. He just had to remember to tell Ben it was okay when he ultimately said his name again.

Ben

It felt like each of Quinn's movements pushed the breath from his lungs with a moan. The longer the scene could go on, the more Ben wanted it to, which was why he was holding back as long as possible. Each time Quinn hit the bundle of nerves inside of him, though, more precum leaked out, and Ben was smart enough to know that he couldn't last much longer, especially as Quinn picked up the pace. Hooking his ankle against Quinn's back, trying to pull him in closer, Ben nodded quickly, opening his mouth. "Quinn- Quinn, I'm- I'm close--" he pleaded, his eyes staring up at the Dom above him, pushing his hips up a little more. "Please--" He didn't know how many more times Quinn planned on edging him, but he wasn't sure he could take much more; holding back was difficult enough already.

Quinn

As soon as Ben said his name, he stilled, leaning in a little closer. "You can come now," he told him, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back and getting back into his rhythm. Eyes open, he watched Ben's face, wondering how long it would take after all of the back and forth he'd experienced tonight. He was still marveling over how well he'd done, how frequently he'd expressed his thanks, how perfect he looked spread out underneath him like this. Vulnerable and open, utterly gorgeous. He picked up the pace a bit more, hand not drifting between Ben's legs just yet. If he seemed to want it, Quinn would be more than happy to provide, but for the moment, he wanted to see if that gorgeous cock of his would come untouched.

Ben

The permission felt like relief, like a cold shower after a hard day of baseball practice. And then Quinn kissed him - if one could even consider something as chaste as that a kiss, because Ben desperately wanted more. When Quinn picked up his pace again, Ben's eyes fluttered shut. Little moans escaped him, Ben not making any attempt to quiet himself. It took his body another minute to warm back up to Quinn's movements, but it was as if Quinn knew him, inside and out. Every thrust hit him in just the right place, driving him closer and closer to the edge, his orgasm building much quicker. It wasn't long before he climaxed, moaning Quinn's name. His cum splattered against his chest, relief washing over him, the orgasm drawn out thanks to the edgings prior. "Fuck, Sir... thank you..." he moaned, eyes shut as he rocked his hips through it.

Quinn

After all the build up, finally watching him come was fucking incredible. His face was absolutely gorgeous, and Quinn let himself go too, eyes falling closed. Ben’s tight walls clenching around him was just what he needed to come shortly after him, Ben’s name on his lips. He rode out his orgasm, a few more thrusts until he was spent. Then, carefully he pulled out, tying off the condom and tossing it in the trash. He’d help Ben clean up in a moment, but for now, he just wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed a gentle kiss to his neck. He hadn’t gotten around to marking him up this time around, and it was a little disappointing. He wanted Ben to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and think of him.

Ben

He could feel Quinn's hips stutter inside of him, even through his post-orgasmic haze. A little smile came up onto his cheeks, knowing that he was good enough for Quinn to come while he was fucking him. A little whine surprised even himself when Quinn pulled out of him -- he didn't want the scene to be over, no matter how exhausted he was. Cuddling close to him as soon as Quinn's arm was around him, he took a few deep breaths, trying to ground himself. "Hi..." he whispered, pressing his nose to Quinn's hair. "That... was amazing..." He was still out of breath, even if he wouldn't admit it, his pulse still racing. Pushing some of his hair out of his face again, he gave Quinn a smile, putting a hand on his stomach. "Thank you..."

Quinn

"Hi," Quinn replied with an endeared grin, glancing over at Ben. "I'll bring a warm wash cloth in a second," he promised, glancing at Ben's chest. He looked just as good in their post orgasm haze as he had when he was edging him. He was just nice to look at. "It was amazing," he agreed. It had been a while since he'd had such a good scene. Someone he'd really connected with. It had been years, but he wasn't going to think about that. He was just going to enjoy it. "It was quite literally my pleasure, Ben," he responded with a teasing grin when he thanked him. He usually cuddled out of obligation when it seemed like a sub needed it post-scene, but this was actually sort of nice.

Ben

"Thank you," he replied to the promise of a warm wash cloth, not wanting his come to dry to his chest. When Quinn agreed that the scene was amazing, Ben practically lit up. It had been so long since he'd had a scene that good, since he'd felt subspace like that - and to know that Quinn agreed that it was a good scene, well, it made him feel incredible inside. Tucking himself a little closer to Quinn, Ben ran his fingers over Quinn's bicep, grounding himself to the feeling of having him next to him. "We'll... do a post-scene eval in, like... five minutes, just let me... lay like this for a minute..." he murmured, tucking his head a little closer to Quinn. Not every scene needed an evaluation, Ben had found, but he did want to know what was good for Quinn, for the future. That was implying that they'd have future scenes together, of course, but Ben really did hope that they would have them.

Quinn

Quinn let Ben explore his body at his leisure, eyebrows quirking up at the mention of a post-scene eval. It sounded so formal to him, and he definitely wasn't in the habit of doing them. Was that something he was supposed to lead? Ben brought it up. He'd had his fair share of once and dones, but he doubted that Ben was going to be a once and done. It had just been too good. And even though he'd eventually have to break it off before either of them got too close, he was going to enjoy what they had now. Beginning with the end in mind, something one of his friends from his college years had told him, who was majoring in social work. There is simply nothing worse than knowing how it ends. A lyric from the music he listened to when he needed to get out of his head. Pulling back to stand up, he brushed a hand through Ben's hair. "Be right back," he promised, going to the kitchen first to get a small bottle of juice. Then he came back to the room, heading to the bathroom off of his room to get the warm washcloth. He brought both back, offering Ben the juice and then kneeling on the bed to clean him up.

Ben

It wasn't common for Ben to feel like this after a scene. He felt incredibly comfortable, safe, warm - he didn't know how much time had passed since he'd left work, and, quite frankly, he didn't care. He could've laid there with Quinn for all of eternity and he would be happy. Leaning into the feeling of Quinn brushing his hand through his hair, Ben hummed an acknowledgement, scooting up on the bed slightly to rest his head against the pillows. The haze of subspace still surrounded him; he could fall asleep right there and then because of the warmth of it all. But he was coming down, and he wanted to talk with Quinn about all of this before anything left his head. Accepting the bottle of juice with another smile, Ben propped himself up so he could drink it without choking. Taking his time with it, he thanked Quinn for cleaning him up, leaning back against the pillows when he was finished with the bottle. Screwing the top back on, he fiddled with it in his hands, despite how tired his muscles were. "So..." he started, a hand moving to brush over Quinn's skin again. "How was that for you...? Anything you would change? Keep the same?"

Quinn

Once his bases were covered, Quinn settled back into bed next to Ben. Normally at this point if things seemed okay, he would have left. Or the sub would have left his place, as the case may be. But Ben wanted to talk about it, and he could give him that. "You were good," he replied to Ben's question, letting him explore some more. He wanted to start out with a compliment before he considered things that he would change. "Honestly, the things that I'd change were on my part. I didn't mark you up," he said, a hand moving over to his collarbone, thumb brushing over it. "And I could've added one more round to the edging where I just fingered you. You were very responsive to that as well. But by the look of you, three rounds was plenty," he ended his brief ramble, looking over at Ben, anticipating what he would say. He was fine with constructive criticism; he just had no idea what Ben would say. He'd seemed to enjoy all of it.

Ben

Figuring that Quinn would tell him to go home if he didn't want him there, Ben assumed that this conversation could be had now, as opposed to later. "You don't need to flatter me, but thank you," he replied to the praise, fingertips just barely brushing over Quinn's bicep. "I probably could've taken one more round of edging, if it wasn't such a hard edge, and there's nothing to say that you can't mark me up right now," he pointed out, propping one arm behind his head to rest on it. "It was good for me, genuinely. I felt subspace like I have't felt in a long time, it felt nice to be able to submit. I especially liked the part where I was fully naked and you were still dressed. The only thing I would change is about myself, too. I would've probably asked you more questions," he explained, trying not to scare Quinn off. "Like... your preferred honorific during scenes. Not everybody prefers Sir or Miss, I should've asked that. And I can kneel on something harder than the bed, for the record - one guy who Dommed me in high school had me kneeling on hay, so I think I can handle the carpet or the hardwood," he admitted with a chuckle. "I had a really good time, though, Quinn. Seriously, thank you."

Quinn

"I wouldn't flatter you," Quinn replied simply with a small shrug of his shoulder. Truly, he wouldn't have given such high praise if it hadn't been earned. Quinn thought about saying that maybe they would work on more rounds of edging the next time, but that was assuming there would be a next time, and he wasn't going to get into those details just yet. "Do you want me to? Hickeys always seem like foreplay to me," he admitted. The last time he'd given a hickey and it hadn't led to sex had been... Well, high school. His choice to have Ben strip for him had been more for convenience so he wouldn't have to take his clothes off while in the bed, but he was glad it had worked for him, and the little detail was noted. "Sir is fine," Quinn added. "I mean, if you had something else in mind, we can talk about it, but I don't mind sir." He chuckled at the kneeling comment. "I had you kneel on the bed because I wanted you to be at a convenient height for that back rub," he explained. "I don't doubt your kneeling abilities," he added. He was proud of himself for showing Ben such a good time, though. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I did, too."

Ben

"I don't think hickeys have to be classified into one area of a scene or sex. I just like them. I mean, if you don't want to right now, it's definitely not a requirement." Ben didn't want to pressure Quinn into doing anything he didn't want to do, even if it was something as simple as giving him a hickey. Pushing his hair out of his face again - was it really getting long enough to need a hair tie? He didn't think so - he looked over at Quinn, raising an eyebrow, laughing gently. "Sure, Sir is fine, sure, you don't mind it, but is there something you prefer? Something you like? Something you would enjoy to hear me moan?" he asked, tilting his head. "If you like Sir, then I'll stick with Sir. I just want to be sure I'm making this as good for you as it was for me." His eyes lit up at the mention of the back rub, though - "speaking of the back rub, that was excellent. Your hands are like magic. My body felt like putty. I'd seriously pay you to just give me the massage." Rolling onto his side to face Quinn more, he hummed. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, too. Really glad."

Quinn

"If you want one, you're getting one," Quinn said with a smirk. Truly, Ben had been so good for him, and Quinn was absolutely in the business of rewarding good behavior. Not that the reward would be a hardship for him either. Quinn mulled over Ben's questions, not exactly sure where he stood on that side of things. "Let me get back to you on that one," he decided for the moment. None of the people he'd done a scene with had asked him what he wanted to be called. They just deferred to sir, and he accepted it because he was used to it. "You don't have to worry about that, Benjamin. It was definitely just as good for me," he said, grinning at his response to the back rub. "Maybe I missed a secret calling as a masseuse," he joked. "It's a seriously good trick to have up my sleeve for when I get to take my time in a scene," he admitted, rolling as well so he could see Ben better. "We're really going to have to thank Brooke for those fried oreos now," he quipped.

Ben

"If that's the case, then hell yeah, I want one." Ben wasn't going to lie about it; he wanted something that he could look at in the mirror the next day, something that would be a reminder of their scene for however long it lasted. Unlike the hickey, though, Ben knew that the memories would never fade. "Yeah, no worries. Take your time. If you think of something in an hour, let me know. Or tomorrow, or in a week, or a month-- you get it. Take your time, I'm happy to use Sir." When Quinn called him Benjamin again, Ben pushed him playfully. "Hey, now - you can't do that when I'm in the afterglow-- it'll just make me horny again, and I don't think either of us has the energy to deal with that right now," he joked, a smile on his face. "Well, I could do a 24 hour scene with you and I wouldn't grow tired of it, seriously. I'm a service sub, I'm happy to scene for as long as you'd like to, and -- I'm definitely off-topic, but the massage was great, so thanks for taking your time with me." His eyes went to Quinn's as soon as Quinn rolled to face him, Ben's tongue darting out to lick his lips. "We'll have to thank Brooke for not firing me when she bought the diner; if I was working anywhere else, who knows if we'd have gotten this chance reunion..." he murmured, eyes going down to rest on Quinn's lips. "Can I kiss you...?" the words came out before Ben realized that they had, but he wasn't going to take them back. He did want to feel Quinn's lips against his, especially now that they were laying like this.

Quinn

Quinn couldn't help but smile at Ben's enthusiasm. It was a small thing, really, but he'd do it for him. He thought about the title question some more as Ben told him to tell him if he thought of anything. His students called him professor, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be doing scenes with any of them. He had his Ph.D., but Doctor seemed a bit too extra. Although he was fond of Doctor Who. He was usually decisive about these sorts of things, but it was a pretty good point Ben made, about this being what he would be moaning in bed. God, if he wasn't hot when he was moaning his name. He chuckled when Ben pushed at him. "You mean I can't do that just to tease you? I think you should let me do that just to tease you. Although sometimes I don't even think about it consciously, so you might have to be careful," he teased. The usage of his full name couldn't make him that horny. "A 24 hour scene, huh?" He hadn't done a scene that long in his life; he'd have to do some research. "People do tend to like my hands," he said with a chuckle, his finger tracing an absentminded pattern on Ben's hip. "Brooke wouldn't fire you, you're too good at the job. And before you say I'm flattering you, just take the damn compliment," he joked. However, he caught Ben's gaze shifting to his lips. "Go ahead," he replied, not allowing himself to focus on the fact that this was different, definitely different, outside of the scene kissing in his bed.

Ben

Pushing a hand through Quinn's hair, Ben couldn't help the smile that remained on his face. There was just something about Quinn, something about their scene, something about the way they were interacting both before and after the scene. It made Ben feel better about himself than he'd felt in a long time, though he wouldn't have admitted that to anyone. "I mean, you can technically do whatever you want, because I'm not gonna safeword out of getting teased. But you know how teasing affects me. I mean, it's not, like, the worst teasing you could do - not even close, because, like, my mom still calls me Benjamin if I'm lying to her, but still. You know." He grinned, his hand moving down Quinn's side, just wanting to feel his skin beneath his fingers. "As for the 24 hour scene thing, it's not, like, 24 hours that are as intense as what we just did. It's more... simple, you know? Kneeling while you're working on things, me getting you snacks, stuff like that, I think - I mean, I've never, technically, done one, but I think I'd be happy to try it out, you know?" He tried his best not to ramble at Quinn, looking down at his shoulder so he didn't have to make eye contact. "Okay, okay, thank you, Quinn - I'm good at my job." He rolled his eyes playfully as he surrendered to the compliment. When he heard Quinn telling him that he could kiss him, Ben took a deep breath to muster up his courage, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Quinn's lips, his hand cupping his cheek. It sent butterflies through him again, lips curling up into a smile through the kiss, despite how chaste he was keeping it.

Quinn

Eyes falling closed when Ben ran a hand through his hair, it was so easy to just relax into the touch. He all but hummed in contentment. He really loved it when someone played with his hair. Hadn't happened in a while. He opened them again to look at Ben when he started talking, laughing a little when he said that his mom still called him Benjamin. "Two very different effects of getting the full name dropped, huh?" he replied. He nodded thoughtfully when Ben elaborated on his 24 hour scene suggestion. "I'm open to it. I'll never say no to you getting me snacks," he joked. "Unless it's between you getting me a snack and you being the snack I get," he joked. He kept up with the meme culture as best as he could, considering the general age of his students. He didn't want to be completely out of touch as a professor. He chuckled a little as Ben reluctantly agreed to his compliment. This time, Quinn waited for Ben to come to him. The deep breath was adorable, like he was steeling himself through the nerves. Logically, there shouldn't be nerves. They'd just fucked, after all. But this was different, he guessed. Outside of scene, Ben laying in his bed, Quinn idly wondering if he was going to stay the night. However, it was easy to stop wondering and just enjoy the moment when Ben kissed him. It was soft and sweet, gentle and easy, almost achingly so. It wasn't foreplay and it wasn't sexual, it was romantic. Ah, fuck. After a moment, he pulled back, not daring to say anything, instead wriggling downward and pressing kisses along his neck, trying to decide where he was going to leave the hickey they'd talked about earlier.

Ben

"Yeah, there's, like, Benjamin, and then there's Benjamin. Two very different Benjamins," he laughed, laying his head back against the pillow again. He wasn't about to assume that he could stay the night, but if Quinn let him, Ben would gladly take the opportunity. Quinn's bed was comfortable, it felt safe, and Ben didn't particularly want to get up, get dressed, and drive home anytime soon. He rolled his eyes playfully as Quinn called him a snack, gently shoving at his shoulder. "Well, that'll be up to you, Sir, to dictate the scene," he teased. "I just get to come along for the ride." Running his fingers through Quinn's hair again, Ben hummed, the hand moving down to Quinn's neck, thumb running over his jawline as he kissed him. He kept it gentle, not wanting to escalate it past there, just wanting to be able to remember the feeling of Quinn's lips against his. He let Quinn pull back, his hand moving back up into his hair, his eyes opening. Humming at the feeling of Quinn kissing down his neck, he tilted his head to the side slightly so Quinn could have more access to his skin. Part of him hoped that Quinn was picturing how Ben would look with a collar on, but he knew that that was far too drastic for a first scene. It wasn't something that happened in real life, just something that the movies talked about. Pushing one hand under the pillow he was using, he took another deep breath. "Thank you..." he whispered again. "This is... really nice."

Quinn

"Perks of being the Dom," he had to agree. "Speaking of riding," Quinn said, not letting himself lose the point of what he was saying even though the hand in his hair was certainly distracting. "Next time," he finished, a little bit lamely. "Bet you look just as good above me as underneath me," he complimented, once Ben moved his hand. When Ben moved to give him better access, he thought it over, deciding whether the mark should be visible on his neck or further down. Well, if he didn't want one on his neck, Ben would stop him. He couldn't help but smile against his skin when Ben thanked him for the umpteenth time that night. He was so responsive and appreciative, and honestly, Quinn liked the validation. It was always good to know that he was doing something right. Maybe just a little bit too right. Pushing that thought aside, he sucked a mark onto his neck, pulling back and kissing the spot when he'd finished. Then he moved down and sucked another one into his collarbone. Finally, he moved back up to meet his lips again, running a hand through Ben's hair as he did so.

Ben

"Perks of being the Dom, of course." He laughed, shaking his head. "Honestly, I'm glad I'm not the Dom. That's too much decision making. And you enjoy it, and I don't, which makes me a good sub," he joked, leaning towards him a little more. "Bet I do look just as good above you. We'll have to wait and see, won't we?" Ben couldn't help but smile to know that Quinn was already making plans for a next time. Ben really did like Quinn, and he really had enjoyed their scene together; he was just grateful that there would be a next time. That's all he could hope for, realistically. In real life, one scene led to another which led to another, and it kept going like that until a couple decided to make a contract and a claim. Humming happily at the feeling of Quinn sucking hickeys into his skin, Ben smiled, his eyes drifting shut. The kiss was unexpected, but surprising in the best way. Meeting his lips, he leaned his head into the hand in his hair, his hand going down to rest on Quinn's waist. He darted his tongue out to lick at Quinn's lower lip, humming to him. This moment felt like an eternity in the best way; Ben didn't want it to end.

Quinn

"A very good sub," Quinn agreed with a grin, tracing his finger over Ben's bicep. He looked so good laying here next to him that it was pretty much impossible to keep his hands to himself for too long. "Unless you think you have one more round in you," Quinn teased. Truthfully, one more round was probably not the best idea, if only because both of them had responsibilities in the morning and he had no idea what time it was at the moment. He didn't want to look. That felt like it would somehow break the spell. Relief hit him when Ben deepened the kiss this time around. The soft, gentle kisses were making him get a little too much in his head, but this was familiar. He parted his lips a little more to allow Ben access if he wanted it, tugging ever so slightly at his hair. Alright, he might be a bit of an instigator.

Ben

“I’m glad you agree.” Ben smiled at that; the sound of Quinn calling him a very good sub made it feel like there were butterflies in his stomach again. Ben was glad that he’d kept a semi-regular gym routine; it seemed like Quinn was enjoying touching him, and Ben was more than proud to show off his body to him. “You know, I wouldn’t say no to another round if you didn’t have class in the morning. And I’ve got work, which is equally unfortunate when it comes to doing another scene right now.” Ben similarly didn’t know what time it was, and, quite frankly, he didn’t care. He could definitely lay with Quinn like this all night. Slipping his tongue into Quinn’s mouth, Ben hummed to him, hand on his stomach. He was taken entirely by surprise when Quinn pulled his hair, though, causing a moan to be dragged from his throat, head leaning with the tug. He just barely bit back the instinct to call Quinn Sir.

Quinn

Quinn had definitely expected some sort of remark about him being a flatterer, and he was pleased when it didn't come. Quinn didn't give out compliments without meaning them, and with Ben, he really did mean it. "Ugh, adult responsibilities," Quinn said with a playful roll of his eyes, smirking. He wanted Ben to stay, which should really be the indication that he should pull back and let him go. Instead, he tangled their legs together, enjoying the closeness without really thinking about it. Next time they'd do the scene at Ben's place, and he'd leave after he did the proper aftercare. That was all this was, really. Just aftercare. He was entirely too interested when he heard Ben moan, and he let the kiss go on for a few more moments before he pulled back, opening his eyes and looking at him. "Turns out I can behave. Shocking," he said, pulling his hand back and wrapping his arm around his waist again.

Ben

Ben knew that he was a good sub, but it was always nice to hear it from someone else. It was easier to accept compliments about his submission than it was to accept any other sort of compliment, in his experience. The number of times he'd been told he was a delight of a submissive was enough to convince him that it was true. Plus, he felt comfortable in his submission, and he valued it about himself. He didn't want to be any other way. "I agree." He smiled at the playful response about having adult responsibilities. If only they could lay there forever, not having to worry about anything else. He hummed against Quinn's lips at the feeling of him tangling their legs together, happy that it seemed like Quinn's way of asking him to stay. All that Ben could hope was that this wasn't just aftercare - that Quinn actually wanted him there. When Quinn pulled back and wrapped an arm around his waist, Ben nuzzled close to him. "I'd have to spank you if you couldn't," he joked, shaking his head, laughing at himself. Pressing his forehead to Quinn's shoulder for just a second, he kissed there, a smile on his lips. "This is nice..."

Quinn

A surprised huff of laughter escaped Quinn’s lips at Ben’s joking comment. “Oh yeah, tough guy? Got a big bad dom side I don’t know about?” he teased. Spanking could be hot, but he’d never really pictured himself on the receiving end. He couldn’t really imagine Ben being bratty enough to warrant a spanking either. If he wanted one, it would definitely be the sensual kind. Filing that thought away for later, he just relaxed into Ben’s touch. He didn’t have to think so hard about it. He was getting a little bit sleepy anyway, and Ben was right. It was nice. Do you wanna stay? He almost asked the question just like that, but at the last minute thought better of it. He didn’t want to put Ben into a position where he felt like he had to say yes to be a good submissive. The scene was over, and he was under no obligation to stay. He finally decided on, “Are you staying?” Much more neutral, the invitation obvious even if it wasn’t explicitly stated.

Ben

"Don't I look like it?" he joked back, propping his head up on the pillow a little more. More than once in his life, he'd had people confuse him for a Dom. Maybe it was because of his height, or his stature, whatever it was, it had happened. And, whenever it happened, Ben had to explain that no, he was a submissive, but thanks for asking. "But you should've seen your face," he grinned, a finger coming up to trace over one of Quinn's cheekbones. At the question, he felt his heart skip a beat. Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes, his heart told him, but he pushed that thought down, not wanting to scare Quinn off (despite the fact that they were in Quinn's apartment). "I'd like that," he replied, a far more simple yes. Reaching down to tug the blankets over them, he hummed. "You big spoon or little spoon?" he asked, his tone nonjudgmental - Ben was happy to oblige either way. "Or no spooning? Up to you, it's your bed."

Quinn

Quinn tilted his head to the side, considering. "No. But I know you, and I just had a scene with you, so my answer's biased," he replied. A mind-blowingly good scene, but he didn't want to go overboard on the praise now they were out of the scene, he was pretty sure Ben was out of subspace and therefore more likely to remember the specific words he's said. He was pretty sure he'd gotten away with the term of endearment he'd dropped because of how far gone Ben had been. Not that he was going to ask and find out. "You don't usually catch me by surprise," Quinn replied. That wasn't necessarily true, but usually he was better at hiding it. When Ben said that he'd like that, Quinn smiled. He was a step ahead of him with the blankets, and when Ben asked about cuddling, he didn't have an immediate answer for him. He hadn't spooned with someone in a long time. But clearly Ben had been thinking about it. His genuine answer and the answer he was giving Ben were different, so after a beat he said, "Big spoon." And it was dumb, picking his least favorite option because he didn't want to enjoy the other one as much, but he'd made his call.

Ben

"Yeah, and you knew me before I was this big, which also gives a different idea," he pointed out, still smiling. He'd almost never been confused for a Dom in Edgewater, but, when he was in college, it happened at least once a month. "I don't usually catch you by surprise, sure, but I've caught you by surprise before." He caught almost everyone who had left town and then come back by surprise, especially if they'd been away from Edgewater for a while. Those people who missed his growth spurt, his high school baseball days, filling out from the scrawny thing he used to be. He could tell that Quinn didn't have an answer about spooning immediately, so he gave him the time to think, not bringing anything else up, just running a finger over his shoulder. He nodded with a little smile as Quinn decided on big spoon, rolling over so that his back was to him. "If I pass out mid-conversation, I'm sorry. But you wore me out, Heartland, I'll give you that. It was a great scene, thank you."

Quinn

"True. You being this big was definitely a surprise." He wasn't just talking about his height, either. He didn't typically bottom, but it wasn't as though he'd never done it before either. He had no idea if Ben was interested in that, but it might be worth bringing up later on. His visits home had been so brief that he hadn't so much as stopped by Mac's. Mostly because it was all but guaranteed that you'd run into someone you knew there and end up locked in conversation for who knows how long. Not that he minded the conversation, per se. It was when the small talk got repetitive. Which, he'd definitely been guilty of now that he was back. Reaching over to grab his cell phone from the top of his bedside table, he asked, "What time am I setting the alarm for?" He was pretty sure Ben had to get to work before he had to get to class, and he had the added disadvantage of having to go home. Smiling at the compliment, he ducked his head to press a kiss to Ben's shoulder. "Glad you liked it."

Ben

"I think it was a surprise to my mom, too." Ben chuckled, completely missing the double entendre. Shifting to fluff up his pillow, he rested his head back against it, almost groaning at Quinn's next question. "Fuck-- alarm..." he mumbled to himself, rubbing at his eyes. "Dunno, like, 8? I should shower before work, and I gotta go home first to grab a change of uniform..." Ben continued to mumble to himself, half-hoping Quinn could hear him. Pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, he did his best to hold back a yawn, not wanting to seem as worn out as he was. "8 should be good, yeah." He didn't want it to be any earlier than 8; the longer he got to spend in Quinn's arms, the better. If he was a tiny bit late, Brooke wouldn't care. "I hope you liked it as much as I did..." this time, he couldn't hold back the yawn, nuzzling against the pillow. "Mm... your bed's comfy..."

Quinn

Quinn snorted at Ben's comment, amused at how the dual meaning seemed to go straight over his head. He set the alarm for 8 as requested and then another for 8:30 for when he inevitably ignored Ben's alarm. Ben was seriously worn out, and Quinn took some small satisfaction knowing it was because of him. Once the alarms were set, Quinn rolled to put the phone back and plug it in before ultimately settling, pressed against Ben, an arm wrapped around him. "I did," he promised, eyes falling closed as he heard Ben yawn. "G'night," he murmured, even as his own mind wandered. Had it been a good idea to invite him to stay? He'd have to work it into conversation at some point that he wasn't on the market for anything serious. Then again, who knew if Ben was? Maybe he'd ask Brooke before making assumptions. Satisfied with that course of action, he drifted off.

Ben

Ben found himself more than content. He hadn’t felt this satisfied with anything in a long, long time. He had no clue if this was a one-time thing, but the fact that Quinn wanted him to stay was a good sign, right? He hummed at the feeling of Quinn wrapping around him, his hand going to rest on top of Quinn’s. He pressed himself back against him, nuzzling against the pillow again. Feeling thoroughly content, it wasn’t much longer until he fell asleep, knowing he was both safe and warm tucked up against Quinn.

#quinn heartland.

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missizzy · 3 years

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Fic: All the Extras, Part 8 (Harry Potter)

(Read entire work on AO3)

The next week was punctuated by a lot of boredom and anxiety, reminding all three of them too much of the months they'd spent wandering around in the wilderness and experiencing the same feelings. Despite Harry's first thoughts about not wanting to hide, they tried to avoid any contact with the wizarding world, because it felt like too much to deal with. They took to wandering around the rest of Brisbane. They saw two more movies, a museum full of modern art, a cathedral, another thing Harry was fascinated to see for the first time, and the city's Chinatown.

The biggest improvement from their last experience of this, Harry thought, was that Ron and Hermione's relationship was now completely different from what it had been. If they hadn't stopped arguing completely, there was still none of the hostility between them that had previously filled the air both before Ron's departure and after his return. Instead, the state of things between them made both their moods a lot lighter than they would've been otherwise. If it also meant that, at times, they retreated to their hotel room together, and made clear he didn't want to come with them, Harry could live with that.

Harry didn't have another incident like he'd had, and by the end of the week, he was feeling calmer in general, especially since he was sleeping a little better. Except that sometimes when they were out, he'd suddenly become convinced there were people on the street, or elsewhere in the room, if they were indoors, staring at him or talking about him. He suspected much of it was his imagination, but it kept feeling real.

They'd had a good morning. After sleeping in, and Harry truly had slept, they'd had a hearty breakfast much like the ones they'd enjoyed at the Burrow at a diner they'd found near the hotel two days ago. They then had gone to look at an old house ironically named Newstead House, and then gone for a little walk in the adjoining park. Hermione had heard a story about a legendary wizarding duel that had happened in the park, but she was sure to say it probably wasn't a true one. Lunch had been at a seafood place where the chowder had been delicious.

It was early afternoon when they returned to the hotel. Their plans hadn't been too specific for the afternoon, but they were all three of them a little tired. The general thought in Harry's head involved them just relaxing in Ron and Hermione's hotel room, maybe with Harry and Ron playing chess, and Hermione getting a little reading done. She'd purchased a large book called The Wizarding Antipodes: A History, and was about a quarter of the way through it.

That was what was pretty much in the schedule even when they walked through the hotel entrance. And then, when they were about halfway through the lobby, they found themselves being advanced upon by a cross-looking Molly Weasley, with a concerned-looking Ginny following along in her wake. Harry opened his mouth, then looked at Ron. Ron shook his head, and Harry closed it again.

As she reached them, Hermione started, "Mrs. Weasley, did you have a-"

"What did your parents say to you, Hermione?" she cut her off. "Are they truly going to disown you for saving their lives and stay here on the other side of the world?"

"I don't think it's going that far," Hermione said hastily. "They are going to stay here in Brisbane, yes."

"Are they?" Mrs. Weasley did not sound placated. "Sounds like abandoning you to me. If they'd just moved to France or Ireland, that would be one thing, but when they're in a place so hard for you to get to and fro from, especially by Muggle means, and not talking to you much while you're here..."

"I'm hoping for that to get better next time I come here. It's unfortunate now, of course, but..."

Harry saw Ginny's dismayed reaction even before her mother yelled, "UNFORTUNATE?!" He tried not to jump, even as she continued on, "You can't let your parents do this to you, Hermione. Give me their address."

"No," Hermione shook her head, and Harry thought she drew herself up a little. He admired her bravery. "They've been through a very great shock, they're probably still adjusting to having all their memories back, and honestly, if you go over there and lecture them the way you're talking right now, you'll probably just make them more angry and everything worse!"

Mrs. Weasley looked stunned. So did her two children. Harry felt it himself. He doubted any of her children had talked to her that way until they'd been much older than Hermione, if even then. Nor had the two of them, the children she had taken in as somewhat her own.

But Hermione, unintimidated by any kind of authority when she thought them wrong, said, "I know you mean well, Mrs. Weasley, but I have to handle this myself."

"No, that you certainly don't need to do!" That seemed to get her even angrier. "That's what you've already been doing almost this whole past year, doing things you never should've had to do..."

"It was by prophecy, Mrs. Weasley," Harry interrupted. "I had to be the one to...to..." He didn't want to say the rest.

"I don't care!" she yelled, before he could. "I don't care what excuse you three had for running off on your own. Whatever you had to do, that was wrong of you. You should have told us what you needed to do, and we would have figured out a more sensible way to do it."

"But then you all would've been in more danger," Harry protested.

It was Ginny who responded to that. "Oh, so for our own safety, we didn't even get to know what was going on? Do you know how angry I got at all three of you over that? Who were you, to make that decision for all of us? And I thought you three at least understood how much I hated that everyone felt they got to make that decision for me." She probably either didn't notice or simply didn't care about the look on her mother's face, even as she continued, "You know, I think mum's right. If you'd told us what you three were trying to do? Who knows, we might have even gotten it done faster, and maybe even saved lives in the process. Maybe...maybe even Fred's!"

High as the likelihood was there would've just been more dead Weasleys that way, this was a possibility that couldn't be denied. "I'm sorry," Harry sighed. "I just..."

"Didn't think," said Ginny. "Sometimes I think that's the problem with all three of you. Mighty heroes, always thinking about saving the world, and how can we complain when you've gone and done so? But you've had your minds so focused on the big, important things, all the while presuming you know best about what to do about them, that you've never given a thought to just how many consequences the actions you take have."

"Hey!" Harry protested. "I haven't always thought I know best, I know I've made mistakes sometimes..."

"No," Ginny raised her voice as she cut him off. "This is not the moment when you interrupt the young witch, Harry."

Then, to his surprise, she whirled on Hermione, and said, "I think that's even what we're stuck in this situation in the first place. Did you think of any other alternatives for keeping your parents safe, Hermione? Do you really believe that no wizarding family anywhere would've taken them in? We kept Harry's less than nice relatives safe. And you know, it's not the first time I've wondered about some of the things you've done, sometimes years after the fact, and I'm not going to get into all of that right now, but..."

That was also surprising, Harry thought. Ginny rarely pulled her punches like that. It made him think maybe this was something where she feared their current company would side with Hermione.

Especially when she instead finished by turning back to Harry, and saying, "I've just spent twenty hours on an aeroplane trying to figure out where the two of us go next. And for too much of it, I had to wonder, will you even ask me anyway? I used to wonder why my brother argues so much with Hermione here, you know."

"Ginny..." Ron now started. A look from her, and he didn't go further than that.

"Used to blame it all on him. But you two, you glorious heroes...well, actually, I think you've rubbed off on Ron a bit there, anyway, but still, anyone who gets involved with either of you? Needs to be able to tell you what's what. And I just hope the two of you eventually prove able to listen every once in a while. Because if you don't, Harry, well." And she turned and stalked away.

The feeling was not unlike that of being knocked off his broom. Harry thought all four of them were feeling that way, the way Hermione was looking after her, appearing greatly concerned, Ron was not looking at anyone, and Mrs. Weasley was just staring awkwardly at him. This, Harry suspected, was probably not the best way for a boy and his girlfriend's mother to first deal with the fact that he was dating her.

The quarrelling being taken out of her hands for that last minute or so seemed to have softened her temper slightly, but while she spoke more calmly, she still insisted, "At the very least, Hermione, it won't do to just wander around Brisbane all day until your parents come to your senses, and you certainly can't leave the country without forming some sort of plan."

"We're going to see them again when we come back for the World Cup," Ron offered. "She and me'll even let them look at our teeth, the way Muggle dentists do."

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" She actually looked slightly alarmed. "Letting Muggles have free range on your teeth?" Then she presumably realized how that sounded, and added, "Of course I'm sure they're very good at taking care of teeth in general, but, well...wizarding teeth are probably different."

"They looked at mine," Harry said. "They've been fine. Even got a small cavity filled the Muggle way, and it worked."

He even tried to pull his lips open to show her, but she shook her head with a, "Don't do that in the lobby of a place, Harry; I know you have some manners. We've caused quite a scene down her as it is, haven't we?"

"Do you want to come upstairs?" Harry asked. "Or maybe you could get your own room, if you want, and, er, if you're planning to stay very long." He still wasn't sure Mrs. Weasley wouldn't grab all three of them by their shirt collars and drag them straight back home at any moment.

She still looked like might be considering it. But meanwhile, Ron had been looking in the direction his sister had gone, and now said, "Um, Ginny's leaving. She, uh, was standing there sulking, but now she's going out the door."

"Oh no!" Mrs. Weasley hurried after her.

Harry was torn between following himself, and staying away from the mother-daughter fight he was pretty sure was about to happen. Ron made the decision for all three of them by calling after her, "We'll wait here."

The emotional toll of the last few minutes caught up with all three of them as they collapsed into three armchairs surrounding a table on the far side of the hotel lobby. Hermione especially looked exhausted, even leaning forward to prop herself up on the table by her elbows. Ron reached forward and put a hand on her arm.

Harry was left to ponder Ginny's words to him. They'd already established, of course, that maybe he'd been a little overprotective of her during this last war. But that had been during dire circumstances that ought to now be in their past. Now she had just made clear that if he wanted to stay with her, he might have to change more than that, and he wasn't even sure if he could get himself to do that.

But she'd spoken of wanting a say in their future. That was fair enough; he would have absolutely given her that anyway, whatever she thought. Did she have any specific plans or hopes right now? He hoped she was willing to talk enough to tell him about those sometime soon, if she did.

Though it might be a bit early for her anyway to be making plans if she wanted to start her entire post-O.W.L. education over. He thought she would, but he hadn't gotten the chance to ask anyone below seventh-year over it before he'd left Hogwarts.

He was still dwelling on how he was going to ask the question exactly, and what he would say depending on her answer, when she and her mother finally returned together, and despite the latter's smile, neither of them looking very happy. Harry wished he and Ginny were alone simply so he could ask her what had happened.

Mrs. Weasley spoke instead, "We've taken your advice, Harry, and gotten ourselves a room. On the second floor. I believe it would be best if we all took some time to rest, and then met for dinner, perhaps around five?"

"That does sound like a good idea," said Hermione. "The three of us can spend it together." Ron immediately nodded.

So they ended up doing what they would've done anyway that afternoon, except the entire time, Harry was thinking about Ginny, sitting around with her mother, and who knew what might be on her mind.

That Evening

Hermione wasn't the only one who had studied Brisbane and found places they could go to, at least to eat. That evening Ginny led them to a Japanese place, saying she wanted to try out sushi. They all of them ended up doing so (except Hermione had already tried it once; she said it was good), even though Harry felt he was ordering kind of blind doing so.

Figuring out just what to have distracted them until they'd finished ordering. As soon as the waiter had left, Mrs. Weasley said, "Having thought about it a little more, Hermione, I still think someone besides the three of you should talk to your parents, try to explain to them why doing what you did likely saved their lives. I think there's a good chance that an adult, talking carefully enough to them, could get them to understand."

After a moment of looking thoughtful, Hermione said, "You might be right. But I want to be the one to decide who and when and what they say. I know my parents. They're my parents."

"Well, you might have to let mum do it," said Ginny. "And before we leave. That really was a long flight, Hermione, and I don't think anyone's going to go to the kind of trouble setting up such a long-distance Portkey just for a task like this, or trying to figure out how to communicate Muggle-style from the other side of the world."

“I think Muggles are developing new ways to communicate wizards aren't keeping track of, but that is good point. Still, I just don't know if you'll be here long enough for them to cool down."

"We can take time," said Mrs. Weasley. "Even with the Quidditch World Cup not started yet, there's probably still plenty to see and do, and after coming all this way, I think the two of us would like that."

"Have you been anywhere interesting this week?" Ginny asked. "I mean, anywhere all three of you found interesting?"

Harry thought about it, as Ron and Hermione appeared to do the same. "I think the cathedral was interesting."

"Cathedral?" Mrs. Weasley asked, confused. "I thought they only built those in Europe."

"Oh, no, they're building one in Brisbane right now," said Hermione. "They've been working on it for nearly a hundred years," and she explained how they'd built it in three phases, and were currently in the middle of the third.

"A pity Arthur isn't here," commented Mrs. Weasley when Hermione was done. "He would love to see such a thing. We should get a camera and take some pictures for him. I don't even think it would have to be a magical one, especially since I don't suppose we'll be taking photos of anything that's supposed to move. Although I'm not sure how..."

"Don't worry," said Ginny. "I'm sure between the five of us, we can figure it out."

"Though if we're taking pictures now," said Ron, "I kind of want to go back to the park we went to this morning. I liked that place."

"That, too, then," said Hermione. Harry got the feeling then that they'd be revisiting most of the places they'd been to already. It would, after all, delay Mrs. Weasley's planned visit.

Briefly he entertained the notion that Ginny might try to stay behind with him on one of those excursions. But that, he told himself, should be up to her, and besides, there was a good chance her mother wouldn't allow it.

"We could probably go there first as well," Harry noted. "If we go before the cathedral opens."

They were still making plans when the sushi arrived. Harry wasn't sure, afterwards, whether he liked sushi or not. He liked most of the things it was made of, but the combining of them in that way was definitely new. Ginny seemed to really enjoy it, though, which left him thinking that maybe he could get used to it. Ron's and Mrs. Weasley's reactions were harder to tell.

When they'd exhausted the topic of Brisbane and all they'd seen in it, Hermione rather determinedly went right into the topic of Japan, which she wanted to visit some day, and everything she knew about its magical and Muggle societies both. Probably she was trying to ignore the very thoughtful way Mrs. Weasley was looking at her. Nobody pushed it, though. The only argument that happened over that meal was who got to pay the bill, with Mrs. Weasley ultimately winning.

It wasn't until they were nearly back at the hotel that Mrs. Weasley said, "I think I would also like to call Arthur and talk to him about this. If you could help me with that, Hermione?"

For a moment, Hermione looked like she wanted to protest. Then Ginny said, "If your parents ever decide to come home, it would be good for them to know some of dad's friends, Hermione."

"I suppose," said Hermione, but she didnâ€™t look all that happy. Harry wasn't sure why. Mr. Weasley wasn't like his wife; he wouldn't go barging in on her parents because he thought he was right and they were wrong, not even if he somehow ended up in Australia here with them.

"Anyway," she continued, "calling someone on the other side of the world can get a little complicated sometimes. I'm pretty sure we'll be able to do it at the hotel, but we might not be able to do it from our rooms. We should go up to the desk and ask about it."

"Harry," said Ginny as they entered the lobby. "Could you come with me for just a minute or so?"

Ron cast them a suspicious look as Harry agreed, but didn't say anything. Silently the two of them walked past the table he had sat at with Ron and Hermione earlier that day, to the far end of the room. It did give Harry time to think about his words to her, which started with, "Let me just say one thing really quickly, Gin. Maybe I haven't been the best at this the past year, but from now on..."

"I get to say where we're going, at least once we're both done with school," said Ginny. "You can make suggestions, if you want, but I bet I've thought about it a lot more than you have. In fact, if you still want to be an Auror, I've got some ideas for how we can make everything work, though a lot of that probably won't be in our control anyway."

"That's fine," Harry told her, because it really was. After the past year of constantly having to figure out what to do next, feeling like the fate of the wizarding world might hang on his decisions, and not knowing what he was doing too much of the time, the thought of handing over all that to someone he could trust, at least for a little while, was very much a relief.

"Good." She smiled. "Also, I noticed you didn't talk about being in the wizarding section of this city much, and mum may not have asked why, but I want to know."

This was going to be very hard to tell her. It felt too much like an excuse when he said, "That explanation would take a lot longer than a couple of minutes."

She did not look pleased. "In that case," she said, "You're giving it to me tomorrow. We can meet right here at 6:30."

Harry knew better than to argue. "All right, then. I'll try to explain it as best I can." That was as much as easily came to him then. "Let's go back."

Ron didn't say anything when they returned. Harry was very grateful for that. They were all of them maybe a little too tired to talk anyway. Instead they just stood there until Hermione and Mrs. Weasley returned, looking a bit peaked up, but a bit more pleased. "Arthur and I have a few ideas," she said. "We'll talk further about it in the morning."

After that, they all went up to their own rooms pretty quickly. Harry had no idea if Mrs. Weasley had any knowledge of Ron and Hermione sharing a room without he himself in it, but he sure wasn't going to tell her if she didn't. He tried to sleep immediately, he really did. Once he'd gazed at the map enough, he finally managed it.

6:30 A.M.

The lobby wasn't as deserted as Harry would've liked. Besides them and the woman at the desk, there was only one group of people, but that consisted of eight men in very nice suits who were talking way too loudly for this early in the morning. He sat in the chair furthest away from them to wait for Ginny, and he was pretty sure he wasn't imagining the confused looks a couple of them were throwing him. He was in his clothes for the day, but he was pretty sure the jumper was one of Dudley's he'd ended keeping until he'd actually grown into it, and it did show it, and his hair was probably even messier than usual.

He'd figured that Ginny, at least, wouldn't show up in a state to complain about his. Sure enough, she was a t-shirt he knew she'd had since she was at least fourteen and a long skirt with a visible patch in it, hair brushed but loose. He had never seen her like this much, even when they'd first dated. But he kind of liked it.

She was a little stiff, though, as she sat down in the chair nearest to him, which was still a few feet away, and right now that felt like a lot further. Biting back a reaction to that, he asked, "How are you?"

For a moment she didn't respond, and he even wondered if she'd heard him; those blokes in the suits were still yammering away. Then she said, "I think you're the one who needs to answer that question honestly. Or at least give me that explanation we didn't have time for last night for why you've been keeping to Muggle Brisbane."

"All right. We only went into wizarding Brisbane early in our stay here, because of..." Harry looked anxiously at the men, reminding himself they probably weren't paying attention to them. "Well," he started. "First I ended up having Hermione's parents look at my teeth..." Going through the whole story seemed to confuse her at first, but Harry found it cleared his mind a little, to have to order and string all the events together enough to explain them. And by the time he was done, Ginny was nodding.

"I remember," she said, "when the whole thing with the diary happened...well, at first I pretty much felt okay. Mostly just relieved, because I'd been so scared, you know. Sometimes when I woke up in the morning, I had serious trouble reminding myself the whole thing was over, but it never lasted too long after I got up.

Except then I went home, and I don't know what it even was. Maybe it was that I had less to do, or maybe it was that that was where the whole thing started, or maybe it was even that home didn't seem as secure as Hogwarts-but I wasn't safe from it at Hogwarts either, so I don't know. The feeling of being scared when I woke up came back. I almost didn't get my homework done that summer, because there were weeks when I couldn't bring myself to touch a book. What I got to writing down, I took to rechecking after a few days, just to make sure it hadn't changed.

And then, there was this morning where Fred and George sneaked up on me...I don't even remember exactly what they did anymore. But mum and dad had to pull me off them. I gave Fred a black eye." Her voice cracked a little then, probably out of grief.

"It wasn't okay, of course, what I did, and what you did wasn't okay either. But..." She sighed. "I think it happens sometimes. And it did get better for me, eventually. Well, mostly."

"Wait a minute," said Harry, as one memory came vividly back to him. "That time you really didn't want to go to the library, even though we both had essays due the next morning..."

She nodded. "It was one of those days. They're very rare, now, but they do still happen. But I never attacked anyone again, after that morning with Fred and George. There were a few times where I actually managed to stop myself, but I think that did go away eventually."

Harry did now remember how, from the start, Ginny had always been aggressive during DA practices. He hadn't thought anything of it back then.

"You think I'm always going to be a little like this?" he asked her, suddenly feeling timid. Maybe she wouldn't want him again after all.

"Maybe," she said. "But maybe if we can keep ourselves from hurting anyone else, and we can be happy a lot of the time-because I have been, Harry, I can say that-then it's...well, not *not* all right."

Harry tried to stop himself, but it came out anyway: "So you mean, the two of us, together?"

Ginny nodded, very solemn. "I'd been thinking this already, but after hearing about this, I want the two of us to be there for each other. For this, and for everything else, too. I want to be there when you're feeling bad, and then I want to still be there when you're feeling better. I want to be there when you become an Auror-for real, not just honourary-and I'd like it if you were there when I hopefully make my professional debut as Chaser."

"Oh, I absolutely want to be there for that," said Harry, and he couldn't stop the smile. "And if you have more of those bad days, I want to be there to help with that, and when you can smile again I want to see that, and I hope I can make you more happy than sad."

"Agreed, then," said Ginny, and she reached out and took his hand. Neither moved to kiss the other, but they didn't really have to.

#Harry Potter #harry x ginny #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #molly weasley

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the-starsabove-you · 4 years

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Just Friends After All

Chapter 10 - It Hurts when You Need Me, and it hurts when I can’t break your fall. A/N Reviews are welcomed! Natalie felt like her heart was taken out of her chest and stomped on.. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She was in the driveway of Tyler’s house, it was the next morning after the party.. She entered the house and didn’t expect to see what she saw. She unlocked the door, Tyler gave her a spare key when he moved in so she could look after the dogs when he was traveling for games, also any time that she wanted to visit. Tyler wasn’t answering his phone so she was assuming that he was still asleep. Natalie had let herself in and the dogs came to greet her with licks and whines. After Natalie had pet the dogs, she looked around and saw the house was still a mess from the party last night. Natalie looked around to see if Tyler was around the house getting dressed. But he wasn’t around. Natalie opened the cabinet to feed the dogs before walking up the stairs and going towards Tyler’s room. She knew that Tyler was probably asleep and hungover, she knew that Tyler wanted to go to breakfast with her and just spend the day together. Or she thought. The door was a bit opened and Natalie could hear the soft snores of Tyler coming from his room and she opened the door a bit more but she stopped dead and nearly dropped her keys. Her heart had shattered into pieces at the scene in front of her. Tyler was naked in bed, his curls covering a majority of his face and he had an arm around a figure’s waist and she was cuddled close to him. Then Natalie realized it was Kate. Natalie felt tears coming down her face as she closed her eyes and turned away quietly. She quietly stepped away from the door and made her way downstairs before letting out a sob. Cash tried to comfort her as she bent down and kissed his head. Gerry and Marshall joining in and she got up and looked over at the bedroom door. She made her way out of the house and back into the car. Natalie took out her phone and she thought about calling Katie, but she shook her head before calling Katherine. Her roommate. The phone rang a couple of times before Katherine picked up “Hey Nat, you’re doing okay?” She said and Natalie had tears coming down “No.. I saw Tyler with someone else” She said and Katherine was silent for a moment before she spoke “Meet me at our favorite diner.. I’ll treat you to some breakfast” Natalie sniffled and nodded. She gave one last look at Tyler’s house, before driving off. She walked into the diner that Katherine and her would love going to for breakfast. She found Katherine sitting at a table and once her roommate saw her, Katherine brought her into a tight hug “Are you okay..?” Katherine asked and Natalie shook her head “No. Not really” The two sat down and Katherine ordered Natalie a smoothie, knowing that her friend was too sick to even think of food. Natalie just sat there for a couple of moments before shaking her head “I didn’t expect to see him with someone else..” Natalie muttered and Katherine nodded as she took a bite out of her pancakes “Well it was unexpected.” “I thought that maybe he wouldn’t be with other girls, but I can’t stop denying it anymore huh?” Natalie said with such a sad smile and Katherine grabbed her friend’s hand “Listen, men can be trash sometimes.. Maybe this is a sign to remain friends with him” Natalie shrugged and shook her head “I care about him.. I love him, but time is running out and I don’t want us to hate each other by the end of this..” Katherine sighed and shook her head “Maybe just tell him how you feel and if he doesn’t feel the same, it’s best to just stay friends with him” Natalie nodded “I just need time away from him now..” Katherine smiled and nodded “That’s all you need dear, just take some time off” That night, Natalie called and requested that she wouldn’t work with the Dallas Stars for a while.

#Tyler Seguin #tyler seguin imagine #nhl imagines #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey imagine

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tw-anchor · 4 years

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05. Attack of the Alpha

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Reader)

Episode: 1x05; The Tell

Word Count: 6508

Warning(s): Mature language, dead body, blood, medication, cannon violence

Author’s Note: Olivia and Stiles bond! Enjoy and make sure you reblog and like this chapter!

Masterlist is in profile description!

"Look, Hoosiers is not only the best basketball movie ever, it is the best sports movie ever," Jackson declared, glancing between Lydia and Olivia as he tried to convince them to watch his movie pick.

"Uh, excuse me?" Olivia looked up from her phone to raise an eyebrow at Jackson. "High School Musical is the best basketball movie. Go Wildcats."

Jackson rolled his eyes at her and gave Lydia his full attention.

The redhead instantly denied him. "No."

"It's got Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper," Jackson added, hoping that would convince her. Lydia was a sucker for any movie with gorgeous guys.

Lydia shook her head. "No."

"Lydia, I swear to God you're gonna like it."

"No."

"I am not watching The Notebook again!" Jackson said strongly. He had watched that damn movie almost twenty times since he started dating Lydia. If he had to watch it again, he'd probably do something drastic.

"We're watching A Walk to Remember," Olivia said, popping her head in between the couple. "Remember? It's my turn to pick."

Lydia pursed her lips and then nodded. "Fine. A Walk to Remember."

Jackson scoffed. "You've got to be kidding me."

Olivia and Jackson left Lydia's Beetle and walked into the town's only video rental store. Like most nights, the store was completely empty—most of the people in town preferred to rent from Amazon or YouTube than to go to an actual store and pick out what movie they wanted. Jackson and Lydia couldn't relate.

Olivia pursed her lips and looked down the aisles, trying to find where the romance section started. Jackson followed her, aimlessly looking from movie to movie to see if something caught his attention.

"Can somebody help us find A Walk to Remember?" Jackson called loudly as he split from Olivia, looking around for an employee. "Hello? Is anybody working here?"

Olivia beamed and grabbed the movie from shelf, waving it over her head so Jackson could see. "I found it, Jax. Let's get out of here."

Jackson sighed in relief and they both turned to go to the register, only to find it empty. "You've got to be kidding me."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "They're probably in the back or something," she told Jackson, turning around to get a good look at the store. There was a ladder set up in the middle of two rows, a florescent light balancing on one of the steps with the light overhead flickering ominously. "I'll go see if someone's there."

Jackson nodded, still annoyed, and grabbed the movie from Olivia's hands, setting it on the counter in front of him along with a pack of Twizzlers for Olivia and Skittles for him and Lydia.

Olivia walked down the aisle, passing rows of horror movies organized in alphabetical order. She stopped in the middle, her eyes narrowing when she saw shoes laying on the ground a few feet in front of her.

Goosebumps popped up on her skin all over her body as she drew nearer.

I have a bad feeling about this, she thought to herself.

Olivia let out a short scream when she saw the body of the store employee propped up against one of the shelves. His glasses were askew and his shirt was heavily stained with the blood that poured from his slit throat.

"Olivia?" Jackson called, slightly panicked, and ran over to her.

Olivia couldn't speak, her sight becoming blurry with the onset of her tears. Jackson gasped when he saw the dead body and grabbed her around the waist, backing both of them up into the ladder behind them.

The ladder tipped over and the light above it came down with it, sparking and causing the other lights to flicker on and off repeatedly.

Once the two teenagers gained their footing back, Olivia came to her senses. She had to survive for the moment, she could freak out later.

Realizing that it was probably the alpha who killed the store employee and was hanging out somewhere close, she grabbed Jackson's arm and looked at him urgently.

"Let's get out of here," she whispered sharply.

Jackson nodded in agreement, the both of them turning to run out of the store.

They stopped in their tracks, unable to take one step, when they saw a dark animalistic shadow in front of them. Red eyes gleamed sharply as the lights flickered on and off and the alpha started snarling deep in its throat.

As Jackson gasped, Olivia tugged on his arm, bringing him into a crouch next to a shelf of movies. She knelt next to him, pressing her finger to her lips to tell him not to make a sound. Jackson nodded.

She hated seeing the fear in her friend's eyes all because of this stupid alpha werewolf jackass.

Olivia ducked her head out of the row, trying to see if the alpha was still in the store. Unfortunately, the werewolf sped through the aisle a few rows down from them, making her gasp and flinch back.

Jackson let out a heavy breath and Olivia shook her head frantically as she heard movies start to fall to the floor at the front of the store. She ducked her head out once again but flinched back when the shelves started to fall into one another like a set of dominos.

"Go!" she urged Jackson as the shelf ahead of theirs started falling.

They attempted to jump out of the row they were hiding in but were trapped when the heavy shelf fell on their backs.

Olivia groaned loudly next to Jackson when the wood slammed against her lower back, pushing her into the floor. Jackson was stuck too, and that worried her, but the pain she was experiencing was almost too much to allow her to concentrate.

Jackson fidgeted next to her, trying to free himself of the shelf on top of him but abruptly stopped when he saw the shadow of whatever was attacking them. Olivia froze, seeing the same shadow that Jackson had spotted.

The shelf on them got heavier as the alpha climbed on top of it and crawled over to Jackson, coming to a stop right over his back. Olivia didn't dare move and neither did Jackson as the alpha pulled down the neck of his leather jacket to check out the scratches Derek made on the back of his neck.

And then the weight was gone as the alpha retreated, running out of the store. It crashed through the front window tearing a frightened scream from Lydia's throat as it sped past her.

Stiles quickly unwrapped his cheeseburger with one hand, digging into the diner to-go bag with the other to search for his curly fries. His dad hummed from the seat next to him as he bit into his own burger.

"Hey, did they forget my curly fries?" Noah asked, watching with slight envy as Stiles popped a curly fry into his mouth.

"You're not supposed to eat fries," Stiles reminded his dad of his declining health. "especially the curly ones."

Noah rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm carrying a lethal weapon," he said stubbornly. "If I want the curly fries, I will have the curly fries."

Stiles pursed his lips and gave his father an annoyed look as he grabbed his soda from the drink holder next to him. "If you think getting rid of contractions in all your sentences makes your argument any more legitimate, you are wrong."

Noah narrowed his eyes at Stiles but Stiles just chuckled and took a long sip of his soda.

Loud static came from Noah's radio before a man's voice was heard. "Unit one, do you copy?"

Stiles excitedly jumped in his seat and reached for the radio, only for Noah to slap his hand away.

As Noah pointedly cleared his throat, Stiles muttered, "Sorry."

When Stiles backed off and stuffed some fries in his mouth, Noah grabbed the radio and held it to his face. "Unit one, copy."

"Got a report of a possible 1-8-7," the dispatch reported.

Stiles whipped his head toward his dad, a lone fry falling from his mouth. "A murder?!"

Back at the video store, Olivia sat on a gurney in the back of an ambulance. She winced as one of the paramedics prodded at her lower back where she had already started to bruise.

"Did that hurt?" the paramedic asked softly, noticing the movement. Olivia nodded. The paramedic nodded and prodded slightly above the bruised area. "What about here?"

Olivia nodded again, a grimace spreading across her features.

The paramedic nodded and gave Olivia a comforting pat on her shoulder before lowering the back of her shirt. Turning away from her patient, she dug through one of the metal cabinets and pulled out an orange bottle of medicine almost identical to the one she gave Lydia."

"Here," the woman handed the pills to Olivia. "Those are for the pain, okay? Only take one at a time, five hours apart."

Olivia nodded, reading the label. Hydrocodone. "Yes, ma'am."

The paramedic nodded, satisfied, and grabbed some gauze and antiseptic cream. "Let's get that cleaned up," she gestured to the cut on Olivia's forehead.

Olivia reached up and touched it, not even aware that she had a cut. She looked at her bloody fingertips thoughtfully.

That's why my head hurts.

Once her forehead was stitched up and the paramedic gave her the all-clear, Olivia joined Lydia at the end of the cab, a shock blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Lydia grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, silently comforting the younger girl.

Olivia sighed heavily and, ignoring the pain in her back, leaned her head on Lydia's shoulder.

The whoop of a siren made her jump as another police car pulled up to the crime scene, driving past the spectators gathered to see what was going on. Jackson was already talking to a deputy as Sheriff Stilinski got out of his cruiser and walked up to the three of them.

"Why the hell can't we just go home?" Jackson asked him harshly, not allowing him to get a word in. "We're fine."

"I hear ya," Sheriff Stilinski tried to placate the angry lacrosse captain. "but the EMT says you hit your head pretty hard. They just wanna make sure you don't have a concussion."

Jackson gritted his teeth and Olivia could see him clenching his jaw. "What part of we're fine are you having a problem grasping? I wanna go home."

"And I understand that."

"No, you don't understand!" Jackson retorted, fuming. "Which kind of blows my mind since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you! I want to go home!"

"Jackson, please!" Olivia exclaimed breathlessly, rubbing her temples as her head started pounding.

She wanted to get out of here, too, but her aunt wasn't at the scene yet to release her and Lydia and she didn't think that shouting at the sheriff was going to get them home any quicker.

"Woah, is that a dead body?" a familiar voice called out from Sheriff Stilinski's car.

Olivia noticed Stiles standing by the passenger side of the cruiser and looked to where he was pointing. The paramedics from the other ambulance rolled a gurney out of the store, carrying a black body bag that Olivia just knew the store employee was in.

She gulped and lowered her head as Lydia squeezed her hand in a death grip.

Sheriff Stilinski sighed heavily and held up his hands, getting the crowd to back away from the scene. "Back up, back up."

"Um, hey, Olivia."

Olivia lifted her head, hoping that the body was in the ambulance, to face Stiles. He was looking at her worriedly, scratching the back of his neck like he usually did whenever he was feeling awkward.

Most of Olivia hated that he was here to see her so vulnerable but there was a tiny part of her that was relieved to see him.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. "Did you see the—"

"Those are my girls!" Olivia heard her aunt declare to a deputy a few feet behind them. "I'm Natalie Martin, Lydia's mother and Olivia's guardian."

Sheriff Stilinski glanced at Olivia and Lydia before waving her over and nodding at the deputy.

"Mrs. Martin," he greeted her formally, stopping her a foot away from Olivia and Lydia. "If at all possible, I'd like to ask Olivia and Lydia some questions."

Natalie huffed impatiently, wanting to get to her daughter and niece. "I'll bring them in tomorrow. If you'll excuse me."

Stiles stepped away from the Martin girls as Natalie approached them, feeling his worry lift when Olivia gave him a small smile over her aunt's shoulder.

"Just a friendly reminder," Mr. Harris announced as he slowly walked through the chemistry lab, glaring down at his students. "parent-teacher conferences are tonight. Students below a 'C' average are required to attend."

Stiles rolled his eyes and continued marking his textbook with a bright yellow highlighter, glad that he was earning a 'B' or above in all of his classes.

"I won't name you because the shame and self-disgust should be more than enough punishment," Mr. Harris continued, stopping right next to Stiles' desk. "Has anyone seen Scott McCall and Allison Argent?"

Stiles looked up, the highlighter cap between his lips, and saw Mr. Harris staring down at him. He shook his head minutely; he had no idea where Scott and Allison were.

The classroom door opened then, and Jackson came in, looking tired and pale with dark circles under his eyes. Everyone stopped and stared as he walked to an empty lab table and sat down without a word.

"Jackson," Mr. Harris walked over to him, patting him on the back. "if you need to leave early for any reason, you let me know."

Jackson nodded, looking uncomfortable with the teacher's attention on him.

Mr. Harris nodded and turned away, heading toward the front of the class. "Everyone start reading chapter nine," he ordered. As Stiles started highlighting his book again, he added, "Mr. Stilinski, try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs. It's chemistry, not a coloring book."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at his asshole teacher and tilted his head back, spitting the highlighter cap out of his mouth and catching it easily. He capped the highlighter and set it on his desk before looking in front of him where Danny was sitting.

Danny, who had homeroom with Olivia Martin, who had not shown up for chemistry class—or any other class they shared.

"Hey, Danny," he greeted him, leaning forward in his seat. "can I ask you a question?"

"No."

"Well, I'm going to anyway," Stiles persisted much to Danny's annoyance. "Uh, did Olivia show up in your homeroom today?"

Danny sighed. "No."

Stiles frowned, worried about the petite brunette. "Can I ask you another question?"

Danny shook his head. "The answer's still no."

"Does anyone know what happened to her, Lydia, and Jackson last night?" Stiles asked bluntly.

He hadn't gotten to actually speak to Olivia the night before and he was worried about her. He didn't know how that guy died, what happened in that shop, or what injuries she sustained. His dad wouldn't tell him anything, much to his intense frustration.

And, of course, Scott didn't give him anything, either.

Danny hesitated for a few seconds before reluctantly admitting, "He wouldn't tell me."

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him. "But he's your best friend," he pointed out, causing Danny to give him an annoyed glare. "Okay, one more question."

"What?"

"Do you find me attractive?" Stiles asked, ignoring Danny's exclamation as he leaned forward in his lab stool.

Danny didn't get to answer—not that he would—because Stiles had leaned too far. He fell off his stool and onto the floor, jumping up right away. He spastically looked around, hoping that no one had seen his shame, and sheepishly sat back down.

"And what do you think attacked you in that store?" Sheriff Stilinski kindly asked Olivia, who sat at the other side of his desk with her aunt beside her.

Sheriff Stilinski had already questioned Jackson and Lydia, so she was last to go. They weren't in any trouble—Sheriff Stilinski made sure they all knew that—but the police still needed to ask questions and get their written witness statement.

"A mountain lion," Olivia answered dutifully, knowing that was what Lydia and Jackson reported.

She just wanted to be done with this whole thing. She hoped that Derek would get Scott to help him find the alpha because this situation was getting out of hand. Not only was Laura dead, but so were two other people. It was a disaster.

And now Jackson and Lydia were involved and that was the last thing she wanted. She loved them and didn't want them in the line of fire. The alpha, whoever they were, knew about them now. Who knows what would happen next?

Sheriff Stilinski nodded and wrote down Olivia's answer before flipping through the file they had on her. "All right," he sighed. "we have pictures of your injuries for the record and your statement. I think you're good to go, Olivia. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Of course, Sheriff," Olivia said politely, shaking the hand he held out to her.

"You'll call if there's any progress?" Natalie added, shaking his hand as well.

"Of course, Mrs. Martin," Sheriff Stilinski assured her before looking back at Olivia. "I hope you and Lydia feel better."

Olivia gave him a thankful smile and allowed her aunt to lead her out of Sheriff Stilinski's office. She couldn't believe that he was Stiles' dad. The cool, calm, and collected guy in there didn't seem anything like the spastic, sarcastic, and weird brunette she knew and was sometimes annoyed by.

Then again, she wasn't much like her parents, either. Her dad had been sneaky and narcissistic, though he loved her very much, and her mom—what she remembered of her, anyway—was kind-hearted and soft-spoken.

Now that she thought about it, she wondered why her parents ever got together.

Natalie led Olivia and Lydia out of the police station and once they arrived home, Olivia went straight up to her room. She was ready to take a pill for her pain and pass out for the afternoon.

She took a shower and changed into some pajama shorts and a tank-top before wandering over to Lydia's room to check on her.

Lydia hadn't really spoken since the incident the night before and Olivia was worried about her. The only reason she wasn't going crazy was because she actually knew what attacked her and Jackson but Lydia didn't know about werewolves, so she was pretty shaken. Olivia honestly didn't blame her.

She knocked on her cousin's door and opened it when she heard Lydia's loud, slurred reply. Lydia was lying on her bed, checking her manicured nails, her lips pursed fiercely. She turned to face Olivia, her nightgown sliding up and revealing her panties.

"There you are!" she squealed when she saw Olivia, a beaming smile on her lips. She shifted around and patted the space next to her so her cousin could sit. "What are you doing?"

"I'm checking on you," Olivia said, covering Lydia up with her pale-pink throw blanket. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel fantastic!" Lydia breathed happily, resting her head on Olivia's shoulder.

"What did that EMT give you?" Olivia chuckled, spotting an orange medicine bottle on Lydia's nightstand next to the stuffed giraffe she gave her. She grabbed it, her eyes widening. "Ah, the good stuff."

"Mhmm."

"I bet you can't say 'I saw Suzy sitting in a shoeshine shop,'" Olivia dared her.

Lydia sat up and gave her a determined look. "I saw Shuzy," she mispronounced. "I shaw—I saw—"

Olivia stiffened as Lydia stared off into space, as though she was reliving the night before. She placed a comforting hand on Lydia's shoulder and asked, "Lydia, what did you see?"

She really hoped that Lydia didn't see the alpha.

"Something."

"Something like a mountain lion?" Olivia questioned softly.

Lydia nodded and turned to her with a bright smile. "A mountain lion!"

"Are you sure that's what you saw?" Olivia had to make sure.

"A mountain lion."

Olivia sighed and grabbed the stuff giraffe, holding it up in front of Lydia. "What's this?"

"A mountain lion!" Lydia smiled goofily.

"Okay, you're high," Olivia concluded, exhaling heavily. She couldn't exactly make sure Lydia didn't see anything if she wasn't even herself right now.

"I'm gonna go," Olivia told her cousin, standing up from her bed. "You should get some rest."

Lydia nodded and promptly face-planted into her pillow, her soft snores starting up immediately. Olivia shook her head, smiling, and went to leave, when Lydia's phone buzzed with a text message.

Olivia grabbed Lydia's iPhone and gasped when she saw what was already on the screen. There was a picture of the alpha—big, black, and disfigured with red eyes—jumping out of the video store.

So she did see the alpha, Olivia thought sadly.

She really wished she could keep Lydia out of all this. It was too dangerous.

Olivia left Lydia's room, keeping Lydia's phone, and went straight to her room. She popped a pain pill and sat on her bed, staring at the picture of the alpha.

What was she going to do?

The final bell of the day rang and Stiles practically sprinted from his Spanish class. It was torture without Olivia there and he was still worried about her. And, with the fact that he hadn't seen Scott at school at all, he was beginning to get restless.

His idiot best friend hadn't answered any of his text messages or calls, either.

He ripped his phone from his jeans and dialed Scott for the third time. Thankfully, he picked up.

"What?" Scott snapped at him.

"Finally!" Stiles exclaimed, accidently hitting the person walking down the hall next to him as he waved his arms excitedly. He gave them an apologetic look. "Have you been getting any of my texts?"

"Yeah, like all nine million of them," Scott answered.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea what's going on?" he demanded. "Olivia and Lydia are totally M.I.A., Jackson looks like he's got a time-bomb inserted into his face, another random guy is dead, and you have to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"Something."

It was quiet on the other end of the call before Scott sighed. "Okay, I'll deal with it later."

As Scott hung up the call, Stiles let out a groan of frustration.

Shoving his phone back into his jeans, Stiles hustled out of the school. He intended on visiting Olivia to see how she was doing and give her the school assignments she had missed for the day. He knew how important her academics were to her, especially chemistry. He braved Mr. Harris' glare to get her extra work, so hopefully she'd be grateful enough to tell him what happened the night before.

Olivia's aunt answered the door with a bright smile and when Stiles told her why he was there, she perked up even more.

"That's so kind of you," Natalie gushed as she led him up the stairs to Olivia's room. "She didn't say anything but I knew she was worried about falling behind."

"I don't think she could ever fall behind," Stiles chuckled. "I'm pretty sure she's ahead of our teachers."

"Both of my girls are bright," Natalie bragged, the both of them coming to a stop outside the last door in the hallway. She knocked. "Liv, sweetheart, can I come in?"

"Yeah!" Oliva called, shocking Natalie and Stiles by how loud her voice was.

Natalie opened the door, revealing Olivia. She was lying upside down on the end of her bed, the top of her head brushing against her area rug.

"Honey, Stiles is here to see you," Natalie informed her niece, gesturing to the boy beside her.

Olivia's eyes widened when she saw Stiles waving at her. "Did you know Stiles rhymes with miles, files, and biles? Ooh, and Kyle!"

Natalie chuckled awkwardly as Stiles grinned in amusement. "I'm guessing she had some of her pain medication. You can go on in."

"Thanks," Stiles said graciously, shuffling into Olivia's room and looking around.

Olivia's room was large, the walls painted a light lavender. There were two doors that led to different rooms, a desk, a bookshelf, and a vanity all painted white. A pale-pink area rug was thrown on the hard-wood floor, matching the pale-pink, purple, and navy comforter covering her queen-sized bed. Everything was organized meticulously and there were pictures of Lydia, Jackson, Derek, and others pinned neatly on a cork board above her desk with a large painting of an elephant above her bed. What surprised him most was the two whole shelves dedicated to comic books and geeky knick-knacks, which included a Harry Potter wand collection and small replicas of Captain America's shield and Thor's hammer.

If he was honest, he didn't expect this when he pictured Olivia's room. Stiles wouldn't say that Olivia was cold, but he knew how much she kept her emotions to herself. In fact, it seemed like she kept a lot of things about her to herself. He would have never guessed that her room was borderline-girly and she was a huge geek like himself.

It surprised him, but it was a nice surprise.

"Why are you here?"

Stiles spun back around to face Olivia, who was still upside down, noticing that her eyes were already on him.

"I wanted to see if you were okay," he told her, shrugging off his backpack. "And, uh, I brought you the work you missed."

"Oh," Olivia scrambled off her bed, doing a messy roll onto the floor. She popped back to her feet before Stiles could help her and sat back down on her bed. "Thank you! I thought you came to find out what happened last night."

"Er," Stiles rubbed his head. "Actually..."

Olivia rolled her eyes, sobering up a little. "I don't wanna go over it all because I'm sure Derek will be here soon to ask for the full run-down, but I'll tell you some," she sat against her headboard and patted the space in front of her with her toes, gesturing for Stiles to sit.

Stiles rushed over to her bed, heart pounding because he had dreamed about being in Olivia's bed a thousand times—it wasn't the most ideal situation, but maybe he'd get there soon—and sat down, giving the petite brunette a grin.

"We went to get a movie, Hoochers, or—" she shook her head. "No, it was The Notebook, I think. I can't remember right now."

"Hoosiers?"

"Maybe, I don't know," Olivia admitted, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. "Jackson and I went in the store and saw the dead guy. The alpha came in. End of story."

"That's it?" Stiles prodded, just to make sure.

"I'm pretty sure, Stiles," Olivia said, louder than intended, as she harshly rubbed her forehead, looking upset. "It's all fuzzy, I can't—"

"Hey, it's okay," Stiles said earnestly, leaning forward and pulling her hand away from her forehead. "Are you all right? Your aunt said you're on pain meds. Is it for that?" he gestured to the small butterfly bandage on her forehead.

"Yeah," Olivia gave him a shy smile, looking at her hand that was still in his. For some reason, she didn't pull away. "And a shelf fell on me, so..."

Stiles winced, horrified. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "my back is all bruised up."

"Wow, I'm sorry."

Olivia waved him off.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm more worried about Lydia, to be honest," Olivia admitted. She reached over to her nightstand and grabbed Lydia's phone, handing it to Stiles. "Look what I found on her phone."

Stiles stared at the picture, horrified. That was the alpha? That was what Olivia, Jackson, and Lydia saw? The alpha was terrifying and ugly at the same time.

"Wow," he murmured, handing the phone back to Olivia.

Olivia scoffed. "Yeah."

"I should call Scott," Stiles declared, looking back at the photo. "He'll want to know about this, right? Do you mind if I—?"

"Go ahead," Olivia shrugged. "Here, I'll send the picture to you so I can delete it on here."

"Okay," As Olivia deleted the picture, Stiles pulled his phone out and dialed Scott once again; he got his voicemail. "Hey, it's me again. Look, Olivia found something and we don't know what to do, okay? So, if you could turn your phone on right now, that'd be great."

He huffed and glanced at Olivia, noticing the small smile on her lips.

"Or else I'll kill you," he continued to leave Scott a message. "Do you understand me? I'm gonna kill you. I'm too upset to come up with a witty description about how exactly I'm gonna kill you, but—"

"Tell him you'll hang him by his toes and make him eat dog food," Olivia suggested, giggling to herself.

"That's kind of weird, Livvy, but not bad," Stiles admitted, going back to the voicemail. "Goodbye, Scott!"

Olivia giggled again, her eyes bright. "You sure showed him."

Stiles rolled his eyes but he couldn't help but chuckle. "Shut up."

An hour had passed since Stiles called Scott and they had yet to hear a response but they weren't exactly bothered by it. The pain medication in Olivia's system had waned, so she was more sober than before, and she and Stiles had started debating about math being more than just a way to calculate tips.

"I'm telling you, Stiles, almost everything you do involves math," Olivia declared. "Nurses use it. Scientists use it. Bartenders use it."

"You don't use math to write an essay," Stiles argued.

"It depends on what the essay is about."

"I'm just saying," Stiles raised his hands defensively, liking how he could easily get a rise out of her. "when I'm in the FBI, I probably won't use math except to pay tips."

"You're so frustrating!" Olivia exclaimed. "You know perfectly well that FBI agents use math!"

Stiles snickered. "Yeah, I do."

"That's what I thought—wait," she gave him a suspicious look. "are you messing with me?"

Stiles grinned. "You look very cute when you're angry."

Olivia gaped at him, a little amused—just a little—and grabbed the throw pillow next to her, whipping it at him. "Stiles!"

When Stiles laughed, catching the pillow before it hit his face, she couldn't help but join in.

A knock sounded from her door, causing them to calm down, and Natalie popped her head in. Sirius, Lydia and Olivia's corgi puppy, ran into the room and hopped onto the bed.

"Hey, sweetheart," she smiled, happy to see the happy look in her niece's eyes. "I'm heading to your parent-teacher conferences."

"Okay," Olivia smiled and stroked Sirius' back as he snuggled into her lap. "Tell Uncle Thomas I said hello."

"I will," Natalie grimaced, thinking about her ex-husband. "Stiles, are you staying?"

"Uh," Stiles looked at Olivia, who nodded. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

"No problem," Natalie smiled again. "Liv, order pizza if you get hungry. Lydia's still sleeping but make sure you get her something."

"Okay, Aunt Nat," Olivia waved. "Bye."

Natalie waved back and shut the door again.

"So," Stiles turned to the puppy in Olivia's lap. "Who's this?"

"This is Sirius," Olivia grinned. "Lydia wanted to name him Prada but she relented when I suggested Sirius. She said he was, indeed, a star."

"Sirius Black is my favorite Harry Potter character," Stiles commented, reaching forward to pet Sirius. His golden hair was so soft and fluffy it made him want to cry with joy.

Olivia beamed. "He's Lydia's favorite, too."

Stiles grinned back at her. "How old is he?"

"Almost a year."

Stiles' phone started ringing, the main theme from Star Wars, which startled Sirius. He apologized as the puppy yipped and jumped off Olivia's bed to cuddle up on the dog pillow in the corner.

"He startles easily."

"Sorry," Stiles saw that it was his dad calling him. He groaned and answered the phone. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, where are you?"

"I'm at Olivia's house."

There was a pause, as though Noah couldn't believe what Stiles was saying. "Olivia Martin?"

"Why do you say that with such surprise?" Stiles asked, a little offended.

His dad knew how much he liked Olivia but did he think Stiles wouldn't have a shot with her?

"What? No, no, I'm not surprised," Noah said quickly. "Anyway, please tell me I'm gonna hear good news at this parent-teacher thing tonight."

"Eh, that depends on how you define good news," Stiles grimaced.

Noah sighed. "I define it as you getting straight 'A's' with no behavioral issues."

"Well, you might wanna rethink that definition," Stiles admitted. His grades were fine, of course, but he had some work to do in the behavioral department.

"'Nuff said," Noah said and Stiles could tell he was rolling his eyes. "Get home before curfew, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Bye."

Stiles sheepishly looked back at Olivia after he hung up. "Sorry, that was my dad."

"It's fine," she waved him off. "So, did you want to study, or...?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could help me out," Stiles grabbed his backpack and pulled out the files he snuck from his dad's office about the video store victim and the bus driver.

Olivia took them, reading over the names. "You stole these?"

"Stole, borrowed, same thing," Stiles shrugged. "I was going to try to see how they're connected."

"Like why the alpha went after both of them?"

"Exactly," Stiles nodded, seeing the small grimace on her face. "You don't have to, though. I know it might be hard."

She had seen the store employee's body, after all.

"No, it's fine," Olivia inhaled deeply. "I want to see how you do your detective thing."

"Well, prepare to be amazed, Livvy."

"Let me tell you, there's plenty to say about Lydia," Mrs. Everett, one of the sophomore English teachers, said, closing Lydia's student file as she faced Natalie and Thomas Martin.

Natalie and Thomas were the typical divorced couple; they fought almost every second they spent in each other's presence. It wasn't pleasant for anyone, especially Lydia and Olivia, who suffered from it the most.

Thomas Martin scoffed. "Did I not predict this?"

"Oh, here we go," Natalie sighed, rolling her eyes. "Total nuclear meltdown as usual."

"What is it?" Thomas asked Mrs. Everett. "Is it her grades, concentration issues, erratic behavior?" he punctuated his question by glaring at Natalie.

"I'm not the one who told her she had to choose who she wants to live with," Natalie snapped at him before facing Mrs. Everett. "As if that wouldn't warp a sixteen-year-old girl."

Thomas shook his head. "Just tell us what the problem is."

"I wasn't aware there was a problem," Mrs. Everett said sternly. "Academically, Lydia's is one of the finest student's I've ever had. Her AP classes push her GPA above a 5.0. I'd actually like to have her IQ tested. Socially, she displays outstanding leadership qualities. I mean, she's a real leader."

"Okay," Thomas looked surprised by Lydia's accomplishments. "How about Olivia?"

"Olivia is a fine student," Mrs. Everett declared. "After Lydia, she has the highest grade point average in her grade, which is amazing considering the fact she skipped her fourth-grade year. Mr. Harris noted that she shows initiative in all of his classes and has great promise in the sciences. With all she's been through, she's turned out to be a great young woman."

Natalie smiled, glad to know that her girls were doing so well with their academics.

Across the school, Noah Stilinski sat across from Coach Finstock, watching as he rummaged through the numerous student files on his desk.

"Stiles, that's right," Coach said absent-mindedly. "I thought Stiles was his last name."

"His last name is Stilinski," Noah sighed.

Coach raised his eyebrows at the sheriff in disbelief. "You named your kid Stiles Stilinski?"

"No, that's just what he likes to be called," Noah said. God forbid that anyone knew that Stiles' real name was Mieczyslaw.

"Oh, well, I like to be called cupcake," Coach commented. "What's his first name?"

Noah reached over Coach's desk, brushing off another files from Stiles' and tapped the tab where Stiles' real name was written. Coach gaped at it, his eyes wide.

"Wow, that's a form of child abuse," he said, amazed. "I don't—I don't even know how to pronounce that."

"It was his mother's father's name."

"Wow, you must really love your wife," Coach scoffed.

Noah pursed his lips sadly, reminded of the fact that Claudia was no longer there with him. "Yeah, I did."

Coach got the hint. "This just became incredibly awkward."

"Hey," Noah leaned forward in his seat. "what do you say we get to the conference part of this conference, cupcake?"

"I like your thinking," Coach pointed at him with his lacrosse net pen, opening up Stiles' file. "So, Stiles. Great kid, zero ability to focus. Super smart, never takes advantage of his talents."

Noah furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, for his final question on his midterm exam, he detailed the entire history of the male circumcision," Coach informed him.

Noah shifted uncomfortably, cursing Stiles' ADHD for what seemed like the millionth time. "Well, I mean, it does have...historical significance, right? I mean—"

Coach cut him off. "I teach economics."

Noah sighed, his cheeks burning. "Ah, crap."

"Have you found anything?" Olivia asked, peeking over at Stiles.

Stiles shook his head. "Not really. I mean, the guy used to be an insurance agent before he was a bus driver."

"This guy was arrested for arson a couple years ago," Olivia looked back at the file in front of her. "That doesn't seem to be related, though."

"So we have no idea why the alpha targeted them," Stiles huffed in frustration, closing the bus driver's file.

"Well, sometimes two people don't make a pattern, right?" Olivia shrugged.

"Right, three's a pattern," Stiles agreed. When he caught the curious look on Olivia's face, he added, "One's an incident, two's a coincidence, three's a pattern. It's something me and my dad say..."

"Oh," Olivia grinned. "Clever."

"Yeah, I—" Stiles paused as his phone rang. He scowled when he saw that it was Scott. "Nice of you to finally call me back—"

"Stiles, it's your dad!" Scott said hurriedly.

"Wait, what?" Stiles shook his head. "What about my dad?"

"He was hit by a car in the school parking lot. Get down to the hospital, okay?"

Stiles paled considerably, his heart racing. "I'm on my way."

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

Text

Remoras Full Chapter XIX: Sunspots

We were all gathered by a campfire late in the evening, far off from where any landmarks were, let alone the diner. Up above was a blanket of thousands of stars in what illuminated an otherwise blackened sky. If not for the fire, we may not seen one another very well. As a whole, it was a pleasant scene of roasted marshmallows on a stick and friendly laughter. Well, most of us roasted marshmallows. It was a point of contention for one spunky little green-haired scholar.

“No way!” She shook her head. “Those things have gelatin in them! Gelatin’s made from animal bones and junk!” She protested, all while having her arms crossed.

Seated next to Demetria was the reluctant center of attention, Remora, who for some reason had changed up her hair (yet again) to a short, light blue wig. When asked about it, she said something like, “I was feeling nostalgic.”

For the record, that was the most romantic answer she could have given me, as all too often I’m nostalgic about little things like that as well. Like how sometimes when I would see an arctic fox, I would be reminded of the red pandas I saw during my expedition to Nepal a few years back. Or when I would open up my dresser drawer, see a pair of hooped earrings, and remember those drunken nights when Ray and I would dress up in each other’s clothes.

As for those two, I was rather surprised at how close they were to each other. Yes, they were at each end of the log they sat on, with some space in-between for Tigershark to squeeze in, but just the fact that they were near each other at all came as a shock.

Remora reached behind her and pulled out a couple of packages from her bag.

“I figured that would be the case,” she replied to Demetria, with regards to the marshmallow refusal, “so I packed some mochi. You can roast those by the fire, I’m sure it’s like the same thing.”

Demetria’s eyes grew wide, as well as her mouth, and she reached out her hands.

“Gimme! Gimme!” She chanted.

“You know,” Ray informed Remora with a devilish smile on his face, who appeared to be in much higher spirits than he was just a week ago. Then again, it could have been an act, but the effort was appreciated all the same. “You could have gotten marshmallows without the gelatin. They do sell those.”

“Well, then,” Remora crossed her arms. If it weren’t for the smile (even if it was accompanied by her signature shiver, and the smile itself was made with quivering lips) I would have found her response pretty typical. “I learned something new.”

I spied Demetria try to stick a piece of mochi onto her stick. Meanwhile, Tigershark had her marshmallow in for too long and the thing caught fire. She started to wave her arms around, the stick going all over the place, which put Demetria in a panic as well, as she flinched and backed away.

“Aaa –! Aaa –! It’s getting all burnt!” Tigershark wailed. For all her strength and experience, she was still a kid, after all.

Remora kept calm and leaned forward, then blew on the marshmallow. Soon, the fire went out, and Tigershark took a big bite. Oh, and then she spit it right out.

“Ack! Hot!” She stuck her tongue out.

All the rest of us laughed, which did not amuse Tigershark in the slightest. She put her hands on her hips and frowned.

“I was scared, guys! What if I got set on fire? Huh?” She demanded, and I had to bite my lip just to keep from letting out another chuckle.

“You know I wouldn’t let any harm come to you,” Remora’s voice softened, almost a smoothing whisper.

“Aren’t you the one who would let her run from your place all the way to the diner all by herself?” Ray asked.

Remora looked away, as if to avoid any blame. Though rather uncharacteristic of her, since she was usually the one to tout how honest she was.

“Correction: Ray won’t let me let any harm come to you,” she turned to face Tigershark once again and told her. Tigershark ran over to Remora and jumped into her lap, where she curled up and lay.

“Hey! Not fair!” Demetria protested. In response, Remora smiled.

“You can be next, if you want,” she offered. I really felt like speaking out then and there, asking what might have prompted this sudden friendliness between the two. It wasn’t like I was against it, but...I found it odd, OK? However, I decided to let things be and not say anything.

“Wait, really?!” Demetria sounded as surprised as I was.

“Mhm, if you’re tired enough. Though once you’re ready to rest, it would probably be best to go rest in your tent.”

Meanwhile, Ray reached behind him and pulled out some graham crackers and a bar of chocolate.

“Let it be known that I’ve also come prepared,” he tore open the packaging and handed me a cracker. “Hun?”

“Hell yeah!” I pumped my fist, ready to make the sexiest s’mores ever.

When Ray and I would roast marshmallows, we had a delicate touch, and kept it by the fire just long enough for the marshmallow to turn bright orange. Sometimes, however, I would get a little out of control and stack three or more on the same stick and once they were all burnt to a crisp, I’d shove them in my mouth, then take a handful of marshmallows from the bag. That warm, gooey taste, mixed with the soft, pillowy taste...I couldn’t get enough. In all seriousness, marshmallows was one of my favorite tastes. I wasn’t satisfied until I could feel that gooey substance run down my mouth.

On the other end of delicate, Ray had much more restraint. He’d sit, leaned over with the stick right above his knee and turn it each way, in a slow and careful manner. He’d smile and after a few seconds, would lift up the stick and place it between the graham crackers. Every motion he made seemed to be with a purpose, with nary a sound to be heard from him. When I watched him, I got the sense that, like many things, it had to be just right to him, and it was as if he spent many a night mastering the art of marshmallow roasting.

For this particular night, I had indeed stacked four marshmallows onto the stick and roasted them at once, though they all ended up in varying degrees of burnt. I put those stacked marshmallows in between my graham crackers, and broke the chocolate into two halves, one at the bottom, and one at the top. After the completion of such a s’mores tower, I passed it over to Ray, and he passed his to me, and we each took a bite out of each others’ creation.

“Hey!” I snapped my fingers and a fierce grin sprouted across my face. “I’ve got an idea! We’re camping, right? How about we tell each other scary stories?”

Both Remora and Demetria shook their heads. Ray turned to me.

“It doesn’t have to be a scary story, does it? We could talk about anything.”

“Oh, you’re right!” I thought over what I’d like to talk about, then got a brilliant idea. “What if I told you guys how Ray and I met?” I looked around. That didn’t get much of a reaction from anyone.

“Don’t you know the rule, dear? If you tell a joke three times, it stops being funny,” he sounded cautious, even with that smile of his.

“I don’t care about funny! I just wanna give it a try!”

He shrugged, “go right ahead.”

I cleared my throat.

“So picture the scene,” I began. “It was an empty street in the middle of New Orleans, I was just a lone vagabond trying to find my way. Some folks here and there gave me some coin, and like the young fool I was, I took that money and headed into the nearest bar. Now, back in those days, good looks could get you far, and believe it or not, I was quite a looker –”

“Still are!” Someone yelled, but I wasn’t sure who, as I was lost in the tale I was weaving.

“So I sat at the bar, all these guys vying for my attention. Some girls, too. I ignored them all, because all I wanted was to get drunk enough to fall into a daydream. I told the bartender just that, I said, ‘hey bartender! Give me something that’ll knock me into a daydream!’”

“As I sat and wondered what drink I would be served, I glanced over to my right and lo and behold was a guy in a blue suede suit, or maybe it was black satin. I couldn’t really remember, I must’ve drank the whole bar. That bit’s not important, though. Rather, it was the fact that he looked down and tilted his glass with a pensive look in his eyes. Seeing as he was one of the few not to go for one of the regular ‘lemme buy you a drink, sugar’ and ‘I just came back from the dentist and I’m ready to tango’, I decided to strike up a conversation with him.”

“I said, I said something like, ‘what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?’ And he looked over and said plain as day, ‘just lookin’ for my next hustle.’ I continued to try to chip away at his fortified heart, as I could tell there was more going on. So I said to him, ‘your eyes tell me you’re a tortured soul.’”

Ray, the one next to me in the present, by the fire, stopped me before I could continue.

“Dear, while I’d love to know what happens next, the structure of these ‘how we met’ stories has to adhere to a simple formula: make it just believable enough to be true, but include little fictional bits here and there. It must both be outlandish and down to earth throughout.”

“Hey! I was gonna include some weird bits!” I crossed my arms. “I just wasn’t done yet.”

“I’ve got one!” Tigershark got up and scooted over between Remora and Demetria. “Then while you guys are talking, a dinosaur shows up and destroys the bar, and you two have to fight the dinosaur to save the day! Everyone cheers and you get married!”

I blinked, and I was pretty sure Ray did as well. We both stared at Tigershark who brimmed with excitement until we couldn’t help ourselves and laughed. She grinned and shot her arm in the air once more as if she were a student in a classroom begging to be called on.

“Can I just say that’s how you two met? Yeah?”

I don’t think it would have been very fair to deny her request, so I just smiled and nodded.

“Sure. It’s a lovely thought,” the words that slipped from my mouth were as warm as the fire itself.

Tigershark, seeming satisfied, yawned.

“I think I’m getting sleepy,” she announced through her yawn.

“Get plenty of rest, little one. Remember to stay warm,” Remora bid Tigershark well and the tyke shimmied away just behind and into the confines of the tent, where a thick and layered sleeping bag would welcome her. According to Remora, the tents themselves were well insulated and would keep us all warm, which she told us all that, “warmth is the most important thing.” Maybe she just said that because it was the one thing she was unable to feel.

At times, I wished we could all have a “Freaky Friday” moment so that her and I could swap bodies and I could figure out whether or not cold was the only thing she knew, or whether it would matter whose body she was in.

I turned my attention to Ray, who had one hand on his cheek, his attention turned to Remora.

“I think I know what it is about you that’s changed: you’re more comfortable around us than you used to be. Could it be that you’ve come enjoy our company?” He asked, with the inquisitive look that was so easy to get lost in.

“You know, I’m not really sure. Rather, I think this is how things should have been since the beginning: a relaxed atmosphere, with all of us working off of each others’ strengths and balancing out our weaknesses. It doesn’t have to be us getting along, but I admit in the beginning I was apprehensive, standoffish, even. I must’ve come off real angry much of the time, when in reality, I just wasn’t used to the company.”

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t have a good reason to be in the beginning,” my observational beloved replied. “You were somewhat of a hermit and a hunter, and there I showed up, out of the blue and under false pretenses of you being someone else.”

“Indeed. But it wasn’t as if I didn’t know said person, so you lucked out in a way.”

He raised his arm and looked down on it, then commented, “in other ways, not so much…”

“Whose fault was that? Hm?”

I sensed an argument brewing.

“Gee, I wonder,” he shot back. “Seeing as you’re the one who shot me.”

Demetria gasped. Did she really never know that? Well...she did now.

“It was a warning shot. At the time, you seemed suspicious, and I have a right to defend myself, no? If anything, you’re lucky you survived at all.”

“C’mon, you two, what happened to ‘I’d like for us all to get along?’” I snickered, while I stacked a few more marshmallows onto my stick.

Remora sighed. “Yes, you’re right. Thank you, somehow the party animal is also the voice of reason,” it appeared I too was hit in the crossfire of passive-aggressive jabs. Her attention then turned back to Ray. “Now that you mention it, what were the events that led to us meeting under those pretenses of yours?”

“Ah,” he looked up at the night sky; I couldn’t help but wonder if among all those stars, Astraea was in there somewhere. “Well, you know I’ve had some pretty weird people come through my diner, yes? Folks claiming to be time-travelers each with their own unbelievable stories to tell. I’d hear chatter about this woman named Rhea Flection. How she was this dangerous killer who had an icy cold stare and was this unstoppable, but quiet force. Then rumors started to float that she was around here, even though others commented about how she had died not too long ago. Even though some were relieved, others weren’t convinced. Some were scared, some were hoping the rumors were true, so they could kill her themselves out of revenge for something, or just to say that they could.”

“As for me, I rather enjoyed all the things I heard. I’ve met professional killers before, so I figured I’d have pretty good chances of working out some business deal with her. Of course, I did my research beforehand. I’d like to believe I came prepared, and I suspected there was a chance I’d get shot, though I wasn’t looking to die that day, so I had a chip implanted which would protect me from the special bullet she used. I figured she’d aim for the heart, though the chip must’ve dulled my sense of reason just a tad, because I forgot to bring any protection for the head.”

“And your hand,” Remora added.

“Yes, well, who would’ve thought?” He looked down at his hand. Ever since returning home, there would be occasional moments where he would complain that he could feel a stinging sensation. “Of course, it was probably for the best that it was the hand, as the way her bullets were said to work were that they would split upon contact and function as explosives, instead. So a blow to the shoulder, for instance, may not be such a guaranteed death sentence in other cases, but with one of those bullets, half of your body would have been blown to bits. So what the chip did was keep the bullet from splitting, and that way it could just zip past. However, I still should have gotten my hand treated, but that’s old news at this point.”

“He’d tell me about all the stories he heard about her, too!” I chimed in. “I thought it would be pretty cool to meet someone like that, even if I thought the chances of such a thing working out were slim. Like, hey, I thought, ‘maybe we’d hit it off and we could wrestle or something’, I dunno.”

“Oh sure, you hear rumors about a contract killer and your first thought is, ‘gee, I wanna go at it with her’?” Demetria scoffed. “Dunno ‘bout you, but that sounds ridiculous.” Irony sure could be delicious.

“So yeah,” Ray summed up. “I thought I could work my charisma and convince her, if that person really was her, to fulfill those little requests that Sunny and I would do, so that I could focus on the restaurant. That, and I figured that under my watch, she’d be safer from those trying to kill her.”

Remora had a dull glare on her face, as if she had parsed through everything that was said and was at a loss for words. Which wasn’t unusual for her, but even still, it seemed worth mentioning.

“To sum it up, you approach me expecting to be this other person, and your whole intention was to exploit me for your business? Yeah, I think even if I was that person, I’d have been just a tad bit miffed. Of course, you told me your intentions at the time, so it’s not like much of this is news.”

“Yeah, and I recall you refused the first time,” Ray reminded her. “I just want to let you know that if you decided to be with us because you felt obligated after I helped Tigershark recover, you should dispel such a thought. If at any point you feel like leaving, you are welcome to. You owe Sunny and I nothing.”

Remora hung her head low and smiled as she shook it.

“Whatever the case may be, I’m glad we’re all together in this moment. From here on out, I’d like to be more open, so feel free to ask me anything.”

That was quite a leap to make, a leap I wasn’t sure she was so ready to take. But it was at least admirable to make an attempt. As I released my marshmallows from their fiery prison, I tried to think up questions. There were all sorts of things I could have asked, things that could have meant little to nothing. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Now that there was the freedom to say anything, it was hard to think of anything to say.

Ray must have felt the same, and he looked down, hand on chin, lost in thought. It was Demetria who opened up the dialogue.

“While we’re on the subject, you said you knew Rhea. Well, knew of. I remember you saying you never actually saw her, but how much did you know about her? Besides the merciless killer stuff. Like, did you ever hear what her mannerisms were like? Or how she was outside of killing?” She began drilling Remora as she looked at the calm and shivery tall lady with a serious expression, all the while kicking her feet back and forth against the log and her tone, rather than the way the question was phrased, seemed to suggest that she wasn’t so much interested in Rhea as much as she wanted to paint a clearer picture of her.

Each of those things seemed to stand in contradiction to each other, yet I couldn’t help but be reminded of my talk with her during out trip to the temple. How I tried to get her to want to know more about Remora outside of the narrow image in her head. I wondered if Demetria was fond of that memory as well.

“I was hoping to avoid such questions,” Remora sighed. Well, it wasn’t so much a sigh so much as a profound, stretched out groan. “Gee, how do I answer this…”

“Sorry, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Demetria backpedaled. I wanted to be like “no, go on. Answer,” but that didn’t seem right.

“No, I will...hmm…” She thought her words over, then continued. “I think the thing is with the job those people had, always being on the move, target after target, cleaning up messes others left behind, it can get really blur together. They’d stay in cheap motels, or find spaces to take shelter in, but never really had what could be considered a ‘home’. Not to say that was the case with everyone, I’m sure some had places they went back to in-between jobs. It wasn’t too wise, because in such a line of work, it was all too easy to make enemies. Of course, there was also the headquarters we’d all meet up on occasion, and there were rooms for each person to rest in, much like the guest rooms at the diner.”

“I see,” Demetria replied. “How does this relate to her specifically?”

“Well, I imagine she didn’t have such a place, nor did she like to hang around the headquarters. Rather, she was the busybody type, never not on a mission. Little time to relax and if she was swift and merciless, it was only because she must have thought ‘let’s get this over with and move onto the next one’. The way people talked about her, I don’t think she was the angry type, just someone who wanted to get the job done. But that kind of life, not having a home, the only interaction being a violent one, it can get lonely.” As a sort of an afterthought, Remora added, “Not to say that I was lonely, though.”

Demetria nodded.

“Right, because you’re a different person.”

“But yeah, that kind of person, defining your life by your work...makes for a boring person, don’t you think?” Remora asked in a rather rhetorical manner.

“Perhaps,” Demetria looked down and sounded kinda wistful. “But if such a person was so boring, why are there people still interested?”

“I ask myself the same thing sometimes,” Remora replied. “I’m sure you were expecting me to tell you about her interests, or how she acted, and really, I’ve got next to nothing. I know people liked to joke about her, and say she talked like a robot, but I don’t really know. I might have heard at one point that she liked the Frozen movies, though I’m sure she only wished the lyrics to ‘Let it Go’ could apply to her.”

“I don’t get it.”

“There’s nothing to get. Not to say that the past should stay dead, but she’s dead and I find it’s easier to focus on who’s still alive.”

It was Ray’s turn now. After all that listening, he voiced his question:

“Do you have words you live by?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “I believe that life is what you make of it.”

“Is that really what you believe? Or are you just saying that because Tigershark might be awake and you want her to feel good?” He pressed.

“Indeed, it’s just as you say. In truth, life doesn’t work that way at all. Sometimes there’s a shitty situation, something downright awful, that you can neither control nor change. No matter how you try to spin it, it won’t help you. Sometimes you just need to accept you’re in a shitty situation and one shouldn’t be blamed for reacting accordingly. Some pain heals, yes, but if you’re in the moment of receiving such pain, I don’t think you should be expected to grin and bear it. If you need to cry and scream, then do so. It’s not pessimistic to be aware of how bad things are and life isn’t going to care about your attitude toward it.”

“Interesting,” Ray nodded. “Whether I agree or disagree is irrelevant, but I can see why you would have such a point of view.”

“Some holes can’t be dug out of,” Remora added. “And it wouldn’t be fair to expect someone to dig themselves out when they don’t have a shovel.”

“Still, I think the whole ‘what you make of it’ just means that life is open to interpretation,” Ray replied, which I couldn’t have agreed more with. My life has been full of happiness, but also hardships. For what it was worth, it was the present moment I felt best about, but there had to be a series of events that lead to this moment as well. Moments themselves were such a limited setting.

None of us could see far past our current surrounding, yet we all knew too well the dangers that could lurk. Being out in the dark, our only source of light being a flame, carried a risk. Likewise, my thoughts must have carried over into the environment as a sudden and brisk wind pushed past us.

“S-So cold!” Demetria breathed out the words through her teeth as she rubbed her hands together and shivered.

“That’s how it is for me all the time,” Remora looked over. In response, Demetria shot up and pounded her chest.

“Oh yeah? If you can handle it, then so can I!” She announced, so proud, though the gusts almost pushed her off from where she sat.

“You shouldn’t have to handle it if you don’t have to. It’s also not something that I’m used to; only that I have no choice, as I live with it.”

Just as soon as it came, the breeze died down, and although the temperature had not gone up, it was one less thing for us to worry about. There was a great lull between the four of us, as if any topic we could have found to speak of had died out. In its place was a maddening silence where not even the crackle of the fire could be heard.

Remora was the one to break the silence, just as she had done more talking over the course of the night than she did since I met her.

“You’re probably thinking the same thing as me right now, aren’t you?” She glanced Demetria’s way, and in turn, Demetria nodded.

“Indeed, but I don’t think it’s such a good idea with other people watching,” she spoke with such a seriousness for something that was in most likelihood not what Remora was thinking.

“No, not that,” Remora shook her head.

Looks like I was right on the money with that one. Still, what could she be thinking about?

“Oh. Right. The other thing,” Demetria replied, then looked around. “It’s unusually quiet right now.”

I blinked. That’s what it was? A case of “it’s quiet. Too quiet”?

“It is?” I asked, rather dumbfounded. “I mean, we can hear each other talk right now, can’t we? And if there was any danger, I’m sure we’d hear it.”

“That’s the thing – It’s not us we can’t hear. It’s the environment. There should at least be something, right? An animal moving, the trees rustling, anything. Even the fire I can’t really hear. It’s just us, and I don’t know about you, but it’s pretty creepy,” Demetria remarked.

Remora nodded.

“It may not mean anything, but it comes off as a bad omen, nonetheless. We should get some rest soon, but let’s be on our guard.”

Then, the seriousness wore down and Demetria hung her head low.

“Sorry about the other thought,” she apologized.

“Don’t worry about it,” Remora reassured her, then let slip a chuckle. “Mainly it’s impractical.”

“Wait, what were YOU thinking about?!” Demetria balked.

That prompted Remora to break into a hearty laugh, and she concluded by saying. “Never mind it.”

“Okay, seriously,” I couldn’t keep it held in any more. “Did something happen between you two?”

Demetria looked up and tried to do a whistle, but it was clear she never learned to whistle, as it came out as just an exaggerated blowing noise.

“We had a private moment in my room, but I won’t say any more on the matter,” she folded her arms and looked away in defiance.

“Basically we just talked,” Remora then went on to explain. “And yeah, I’d rather not discuss the contents, but when I said I wanted to get along with everyone, I meant everyone.”

I opened my mouth, as I still had questions, but Ray stopped me.

“It’s getting late, and some mysteries are better left unsolved, wouldn’t you say, dear?”

“You’re right,” I relented. Damn it, I was too curious to let it go, but I knew I needed the rest. “Goodnight, you two.”

It was just the day after Ray returned from the hospital that preparations were underway. He had told me the plan that he and Remora discussed while in the hospital, though much like the talk she had with Demetria, I felt it best not to disclose any details. In fact, I suspected that part of the ‘talk’ Remora had pertained to the mission at hand.

In any case, more details were out in the open the very next morning, when Ray looked through the stack of papers with requests and came across one about an abandoned mine. He read it aloud, then muttered, “what’s this?”

Remora then gathered us all together and announced that she had been the one to make the request.

“I’m willing to give you guys all the money I have if you investigate this mine with me,” she stated, and I placed my hand over my mouth as I tried to act surprised.

“Just for that? What for?” I did my best forced gasp I could come up with.

“Simple: I know for a fact that mine wasn’t there before, yet somehow it exists now, and acts as if it had been there this whole time. As if it has a history here. Sound familiar?”

“Don’t remind me,” Demetria growled, something I found atypical for her, but she must have had that mansion incident in mind.

“When I first came across it, it was in disrepair,” Remora elaborated. “I could see little caverns and pathways inside. There’s no telling how it is now, but there’s something not right about it.”

“So we go together, investigate, and if anything comes up, that’s it, we’re done?” I tried to sum it up.

“More or less. But I also suspect that those monsters we saw, no, have been seeing, has something to do with this. If possible, I would like to put an end to this.”

“Well what are we waiting for?!” I raised my fists in the air. “I’m all pumped and rarin’ to go! This is right up my alley!”

She shook her head.

“It’s right up everyone’s alley, and if my suspicion is correct, then no person alone, me included, would be equipped to go. However, it’s a fact that we all have varying degrees of experience and some of us are more fragile than others. With that in mind, I want to make sure we’re all prepared before we set off. I’ll give you all until the end of the week. Does that sound fair?”

We all agreed to it, although I wasn’t really sure a week would have been long enough. That said, I didn’t know how much time would be needed to prepare us all.

Throughout the week, I caught glimpses of Demetria practicing acrobatics: rolling around outside, climbing the sides of the house, jumps from side to side. Little things like that. At one point she had gotten on the roof, and before I could yell at her to come down, she had jumped off, and landed in a slide. Needless to say, she still fell, but the damage was little more than scratches. Owe it to the soft ground, I suppose.

Tigershark and I practiced in the basement, where I set up some punching bags for us. When the weather was nice enough, I’d grab a baseball from the attic and I’d tell her to try to hit it as hard as she could without the hammer, and not to worry if it missed, just to keep trying to hit as hard as she could. I didn’t think she understood the purpose, but I could tell she still had fun.

Also from the attic, I grabbed my old lasso. Yes, was it really such a surprise at this point? The comparisons to Indiana Jones were already overwhelming enough, and that wasn’t even the reason I got into the thing. It was just that when I was a kid, I liked to pretend I was a cowboy and wrangle up anything around the house. Many ceramic and glass vases were broken. Then, when I was about Demetria’s age, I would go around urban exploring. Things kinda escalated from there…Anyway, for the finishing touch, I fitted myself with some elbow pads.

Then there was Ray. I asked him what he had been up to, which he stated that his role was more minimal than the rest of us. He wouldn’t elaborate, and I was fine with that. Some things didn’t need an explanation.

Once the day finally came, we all met in front of the diner. Each of us had some kind of weapon, Ray included. He held an old rifle, and Remora, surprised, asked about it.

“You know, I’m something of a sniper, myself,” he replied with a smirk on his face.

“Oh really?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a soda can, then tossed it into the air. Just as he did that, he aimed the rifle toward the can and squinted, then shot it.

“It’s all about accuracy,” he stated with a shrug, then fastened the rifle on his back. “Anyway, I don’t expect too much from me.”

Before we even made it a few paces past the door, Remora stopped us.

“I should warn you all right now, this will probably be more than a day’s trip. I’ve packed multiple tents and sleeping bags which should keep us all plenty warm, but if any of you aren’t ready to make the trek, I suggest you stay home now.”

Demetria raised her hand.

“Yes? You want to stay home?” Remora inquired.

“Not that. I just want to know, where are these so-called tents?”

Now that was a question I didn’t think to ask, but in hindsight, probably should have.

Remora pulled out a couple of cubes from her pocket.

“Think of these things like pokeballs. Inside one of them are four compressed tents. The other holds five sleeping bags. When I press and release this button, they will spring forth.”

“I don’t understand, but at this point, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Demetria responded. After that, we got a move on. What followed was a long walk which seemed to go nowhere, and we remained undisturbed throughout. Every now and then I noticed some wolves, or foxes, but they didn’t disturb us, and ran off after taking a look at us. Tigershark couldn’t stand walking very far, so after a while, she’d ride on Remora’s shoulders. Then my shoulders. Then Ray’s. I think she was just being passed around like a hot potato.

Once the sun started to set, we set up camp out in a spot that looked way too convenient: two logs right next to each other, and fallen branches all over. Remora and I pushed the logs apart from each other, Tigershark and Ray gathered sticks to throw in a pile, and Demetria lit the fire. After we had a light supper, Remora released the tents and sleeping bags from the cubes, and just as she said, they appeared, fully formed and everything, before us.

Now that the night had come to an end and all of us were in our tents after marshmallow roasting and various conversations, I couldn’t help but feel just a little on edge. Funny, huh? Such a relaxed atmosphere and I really enjoyed us all getting along, but at the same time, it just felt wrong.

I turned to Ray.

“Are you sure we can trust Remora?” I asked in a near whisper.

“It’s not a good idea to trust anyone,” he mumbled, half-asleep. To his credit, he managed to add, “you’re cool, though.”

“Thanks, but I ate the last bagel the other day,” I admitted. Through sheer force of will, I got back on topic. “OK, but why did you agree to this if you aren’t sure of her intentions?”

“Mostly just to see if I could still find any enjoyment out of things like this. What about you?”

“I thought it would be fun. It’s not really you or I that I’m worried about. It just starts to get complicated when there’s more people involved.”

“That it does,” he agreed.

I didn’t know what bothered me exactly. Maybe it had been silence earlier. Or a general sense of uneasiness. But it was the journey, not the destination, after all, and where was the fun in being certain of everything?

However, she seems like the type to abhor uncertainty.

I let that thought simmer before it faded away, as I drifted off to sleep.

In the morning we continued onward. All of our stuff was packed away, we shared a light breakfast, and stretched before making our move.

It must have taken about an hour with little resistance from the weather when we finally approached a cave off the side of a cliff. At the entrance was a door all boarded up with the words written “turn back now – none may enter.”

Really, a simple “private property” would have been enough, not that any of us would have listened.

“Well, you read the sign, let’s go back home,” Demetria’s words rushed out in a fearful flurry, accompanied by swift gestures for us to go the other way.

“If you want to, by all means,” Remora joked.

“Oh no! Nu-uh! No way! I’m not saying I want to, I’m saying we all should go, I mean, the sign even says so!”

Despite her protests, the rest of us pulled the boards apart and Tigershark pounded her hammer at the door until finally, it broke open. From the new opening came a cloud of dust which prompted us all to cover our mouths.

Once the dust faded, we all walked in, though Demetria was reluctant.

“Will you do it for a Scooby Snack?” Remora joked.

“Not funny,” she groaned back.

“Aw, I thought it was funny,” Remora shot back.

At last she followed us in, and I heard her mutter, “you already know what snack I’d do it for.”

Throughout the mine shaft, there was a faint, blue glow that kept us from being in total darkness. We all looked around at every moment and listened for even the faintest of sounds. No signs around me pointed to the place being used as an action mine; no tracks, incomplete or otherwise. No carts. No pickaxes or other left behind equipment. The only sure sign was the boards overhead, with deep enough cracks to signify that the place could collapse at any moment.

Then the growls came. Faint at first, but in varying pitches. Yet so far, there was still no movement other than ourselves. Now Remora was more cautious as well, and her shivering seemed to grow more intense. She turned to Demetria through stilted motions.

“Keep Tigershark safe,” she told her.

“You can count on me,” Demetria nodded and assured.

“I know I can,” were the last words spoken before three beasts, similar to the ones we’ve faced before rushed in from three different directions; one entered from the right, another the left, and the third straight ahead of us. We prepared ourselves right away, with Ray and Remora both backed behind a pillar on each side of the wall, I stood with the lasso, swung it around, then flung it forward as it wrapped itself around the neck of the beast in the middle. I tugged at the lasso and watched as the beast fell and slid against the cave floor.

Both of the beasts on the sides were shot at the same time in the heads, and they too fell. Tigershark was about to rush in to whack the beast that I had lassoed when its head lifted up and opened its mouth wide to bite into Tigershark. Demetria grabbed the hood of Tigershark’s parka and pulled her back.

“See, this is what I was afraid of,” Demetria let loose a heavy sigh.

It pushed itself back up to its feet and reeled its head back to yank away at the lasso. I held on, and tried to tug back at it, but its strength proved to be too much.

“Damn it, and here I thought things were going to be easy,” I winced. Seeing as my weapon was now taken from me, I saw no other option: I cracked my knuckles and gave off a grin. “Looks like it’s time to bring out the ol’ fisticuffs!”

All three of them stood once more and let out an unearthly roar. While the others were blown by the force, I charged through and gave the beast with my lasso around its neck a good uppercut, which knocked the creature back. One of the other ones tried to swipe at me, but I held up my arms and the elbow pads blocked any such damage the creature would have inflicted.

Tigershark and Demetria worked together to fend off the one which had taken my lasso. Likewise, Ray continued to take shots at the creature to the left, which did little more than slow its movements. Meanwhile, Remora rushed into the creature and pulled out a pair of metallic claws and strapped them onto her hands. She rammed her weight into the creature and dug the claws into its side, which made it let out a shriek which sounded like numerous animals (primates, dogs and cats alike, lions and birds) in pain, but not any one animal that beast resembled.

I kept my attention on the beast which continued to swipe away as I saw no opening to fight back. Then, a blast erupted which tore off the creature’s head from the rest of it, and chunks of its body flew out. She stood near me, with her own rifle in hand, and had shot its neck. I was lucky not to have suffered any damages, myself, but the resulting blast knocked me down.

As I got back up, I noticed the shrunken eye of the remaining creature’s skeletal head look Remora’s way, and upon noticing that the others had fallen, it ceased fending off the two little ones, which I never did get to assess the damage they made, and fled.

“No,” Remora growled. “Not this time.”

She chased after the fleeing creature, and the rest of us followed behind.

“There might be more where those came from,” Ray cautioned. “Let’s continue to watch out for each other.”

“Oh, I’m sure at this point, we can take ‘em!” I boasted, rather proud of what little I managed to get in, even if I didn’t land the finishing blow.

But, to our relief or disappointment, the path ahead was linear. No other creature appeared and there seemed to be no pathways on either side of us for any to enter from, which raised the question as to how two of them managed to appear from the sides.

Out of breath, we managed to catch up to Remora, and we all stood in a wide clearing in the cave. No other opening seemed to exist, and all around us were stone columns connected from the floor to the ceiling and stalactites overhead.

“It’s a dead end…” I muttered.

Which means the mystery continues to remain unsolved, with even more questions remaining. We haven’t yet figured it out, and the only answer I saw was “this isn’t it”.

“Come on, let’s go,” I urged Remora. “There’s nothing here.”

Not even a treasure of some sort. At least a clue as to anywhere else to go would’ve been nice, but nope. No such thing.

“No. I refuse to believe that. There’s no way that thing just disappeared. I won’t accept that,” Remora said at last, her voice taken on a dejected tone.

I felt the need to urge her more, something I never thought I’d have to do.

“Look, this trip has been fun and I know you wanted to bring an end to this, but there’s always another trip. We can figure this out together,” I did my best to sound encouraging, but it really seemed like at that point, not a word would budge her.

“This has to end,” her voice raised just a little. She sounded more resolute than before. “Now.”

I was torn. To her the destination must have been the most important thing, but I didn’t know how else to get around the fact that there was nothing left to see. It wasn’t like we could leave her there, either, not when she had the tents, and the trip back would also take more than a day.

We were at a literal standstill, and it wasn’t until she spoke up once more that it seemed like we were finally ready to head back.

“I really am glad you all are gathered here,” her icy and dispassionate voice spoke otherwise.

I nodded. So was I, and with any hope, everyone else was glad to share such a trip together as well, even if the end proved to be fruitless.

#writing #slice of life #camping trip #adventure #relaxing #action #mystery #remoras full #fiction

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