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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

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Title: That Old Thing Back {One Shot} ***

Charlie Hunnam x Ex-Wife Reader

Warning: Cursing, Angst, POV Changes, LOTS OF WORDS, NSFW, Mentions of miscarriage

Words: 8,888k

Note: Okay, this is a first for Charlie. I am not familiar with his mannerisms at all, so I hope this hits well. If not, anon, I am sorry. As always, thank you all for reading! Also, y’all see 8888 words. 8888 must mean something right.

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you meet someone, within minutes, you know what you want from them. After the first conversation, you know what capacity you want them in your life. After a week, you know just how you feel about them. Charlie could attest to this. When he first saw you, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. He was mesmerized by you and just sat and marveled as you danced around the great lawn of the park he happened to be in that afternoon. You looked carefree and so full of life. Nine other women were dancing with you, but he could only see you.

That led him to stalk you for the remainder of the afternoon. Once the class was finished, he followed behind you and listened to your conversation as you walked through the streets and fell deeper under your spell. Your voice was like a finely tuned melody that sounded better than any song he’d ever heard. He sat in the same restaurant you did and just watched you as you spoke and laughed. Every story you told was so animated he felt like he’d been right there when it happened. You were the most captivating creature he’d ever seen.

By the time he knew what had happened, he’d pushed his entire day to the side and had followed you, and he didn’t regret one thing. When he least expected it, you confronted him and called him out on his stalker antics, and that only made him want to know you more. It was the perfect imperfect meet. From that day, the two of you had been inseparable. You spent all your free time together. When he told you his aspiration to be an actor, you didn’t laugh or tell him to forget it and be more practical. You were his biggest supporter, and he fell harder for you.

A whirlwind, passion-filled eight-month romance led to him proposing and begging you to spend your life with him. When you excitedly screamed yes and leaped on him in the middle of the restaurant, everyone around you elated and showered you with applause and well wishes. The two of you didn’t bother waiting. A month later, you were married and more in love than ever. Neither of you were prepared when CJ came around, but it made your love deeper, your marriage stronger.

You were by his side as he struggled through audition after audition, waiting for his big break. You were there rejection after rejection, always having his back and pushing him never to give up. You were his backbone, and when that role came, you were right there for him. The rolls came in one after the other, which meant he was gradually becoming busier and busier. Before you knew it, he was always on a movie set, and you were always home with CJ.

No one prepared him for the struggles of marriage, a baby, and his budding career. He was warned about it by his agent early on, but he swore the two of you had what it took to withstand any and all struggles. He hadn’t factored himself in as a struggle. Thanks to his rapid rise to fame, everyone wanted a piece of him, and when they took their piece, there was none left for you. The arguments increased, and the miscommunication and unsaid words took a toll. The space that formed between you was wide enough to classify them as chasms.

It seemed like he couldn’t do anything right. Everything he said was wrong. When he took a weekend off of work, it was wrong because you found it clear he would rather be working. When he tried to get close to you for any affection, you were always tired from your day with CJ, and every time you tried, he was too busy. He got lost in the Hollywood lifestyle, the parties, the socializing, the life that was bullshit, and had nothing on you or CJ. He turned into the monster in the fairytale, the monster that mothers warned their daughters about.

He’d lost track of how many times he’d heard you crying, lost track of how many times he’d struggled with what to do, how to be. It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt you, he just didn’t know how to be who you wanted, how you needed him to be. The last straw was him missing your birthday to remain at the Cannes Film Festival, the festival he got pictured in a compromising position. One he was entirely at fault for, but one where absolutely nothing happened. The last thing you said to him was, “Your priorities are all fucked up, if you don’t want us fine I’ll solve the problem.”

He came home to divorce papers and an empty house and not too long after you were in the hospital suffering from a miscarriage. A miscarriage the doctors blamed on stress, a miscarriage you blamed on him, a miscarriage he blamed himself for. After that, you made it clear you were done with him. He had the thought to contest and fight for you, but he knew the same problems would still be there. He had to face the facts that you’d probably grown too far apart, and that he would only cause you pain. He had to let you go. So, let you go he did.

Groaning, he rubbed his face trying to keep the sleep at bay. The sound of the waves at his Malibu home was the soothing back noise he needed. It was the same noise that propelled him deep into his state of depression. It was a sate he’d been fighting for the last year. He’d been mostly successful, but tonight was hard. Tonight, was the anniversary of what would have been your seventh wedding anniversary.

The whole night he’d been haunted by memories, haunted by feelings, and haunted by every regret he’d held on to for the last near two years. He thought of scenarios where he should have said something when he hadn’t said anything. He thought about the times he didn’t do something when he should have dome something—anything. He regretted everything that led to this point, the point where he had no wife and a son he was missing that was growing up without seeing him every day.

“Fuck!” His shout was loud, and though the beach was vast, it still somehow echoed around him. There was no escaping you. He’d tried like hell every day, especially when you moved said the most hurtful words you’d ever said to him.

-Fourteen Months Earlier-

“Leave Charlie; you’re good at that.”

“That’s not fair, Y/N, and you know it!”

You spun around with pure vitriol radiating from you. “Fair! Do you know what’s not fair? It’s not fair that I’ve been by your side through everything, supporting you and loving you fiercer than a mother lion to her cubs, birthed your son, held you down through everything, the struggle, the good times only to have you do this!”

“You’re the one who left me, Y/N!”

He knew he shouldn’t have thrown that at you. He knew it was a bad idea.

“Let’s be real. You left me long before I left you! Plus, what was there to stay for, a man who turned out to be my biggest mistake?”

-Present Day-

With his phone in hand, he pulled up your contact. It was one that he stared at so often—too often, he opened up his messages and did the only thing his head told him to.

MSG My Wife: It’s insane today would have been our 7th anniversary. Seven years. The day I said those vows to you were the happiest day of my life until the day you told me about CJ. I thought seven would be just the beginning for us. I fully expected seventeen, twenty-seven, thirty-seven, seventy. I probably shouldn’t be sending this, but there was no way I could fight it. God, Y/N, this has always been my favorite day. Now it’s one of the most painful.

He tossed his phone on the side table and dropped his head back, praying he could forget and move on. It was clear you’d already done it.

As if that wasn’t enough, to add insult to injury, four days later he was staring down at the date your divorce was finalized. It was irony at its best and a just punishment for him. He’d been suffering the last year, so much, so pain felt like his best friend. He just wallowed in everything he’d lost, wallowed in it with no intention to pull himself out. It was that same pain that had him on this interstate driving out of LA to the place he shouldn’t be going anywhere near.

When he pulled up inside the yard, he sat in his mustang for much longer than he should have. He looked around at somewhere he was familiar with but only loosely. He looked at the toys scattered on the lawn and smiled before it slipped and was replaced with sorrow. After taking a deep breath, he got out and walked to the door. He hesitated before his knuckles rapped on the door, then he waited.

~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

“CJ, please put this hoverboard away before I break my neck!”

You wiped your hands on the dishtowel as you made your way to the front door. Your son was single-handedly working overtime to break every bone in his body. You’d heard that raising a boy would be difficult, but you were not prepared. He was a handful and a half, especially since he was the carbon copy of his father. Not only did he look just like him down to his blond hair, but he also had the same interests—skating, hoverboarding, biking, and soccer. Those were just the beginning of their similarities. With your head lost in thought, you didn’t see the fist-size fire truck that was lying in wait for you just in front of the door. You hopped and did your best football scrimmage to avoid the tragedy you foresaw.

“Jesus Christ! Charles Matthew Hunnam, Junior!”

You could hear the barrage of footsteps as he came running. He knew when you used his entire name; he was in trouble. As sure as the sky was blue, he came bounding around the corner with his blond curls bouncing and honey-chocolate sun kissed complexion on his way to you.

“I’m sorry, mommy,” he sheepishly breeched as he bent to the floor to gather the death traps he’d left for you.

“How many times have I told you to pick your toys up when you’re finished?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” He looked so sad now and gave you those blue specked hazel eyes that were such an interesting mix of yours and Charlie’s that you were always a sucker for.

Groaning, you shook your head affectionally. “Try to remember, honey,” you softly reminded. CJ nodded and threw his arms around your midsection. These were the things that made your day. The doorbell rang then, reminding you someone was there. “Take them up, please.”

“Okay, mommy.” You turned from him and continued your walk to the door. When you swung it open, you were shocked half to death to see Charlie standing on the other side.

“Charlie,” you gasped out. Once CJ heard his name, you heard the clatter of the toys he must have just had heaped in his hands.

“Daddy!” You heard him running, and in seconds, he bound into Charlie’s waiting arms.

“Ah! Hey, buddy!” Charlie stood and held onto CJ like he was his most favorite thing in the world; it was the same way CJ held onto him.

You stood there and watched them half warmed by the sight of father and son and their evident love for each other and half seething that Charlie was there in the first place. He knew better than to show up unannounced. The only way this worked was if you had time to prepare yourself to see him. This was unexpected.

“I missed you, daddy.”

“I missed you too, CJ. Gosh, you look like you’re growing like a weed,” Charlie surmised, placing CJ back onto the ground.

“I am, mommy says I’m half her height.”

“Oh, is that right? So half her height means you’re still a ways behind me. I guess I better go back to eating my veggies,” Charlie joked. CJ found it funny, even if you didn’t.

Clearing your throat, you brought the attention of your ex-husband to you. his smile faltered. “What’re you doing here, Charlie?”

“I uh—I wanted to see CJ.”

You dropped your head and sighed. This was going to turn into an argument.

“I wanted to see you too, daddy. Can we do something? Can I show you my new bike? Then can we go down to the lake, and I can show you my new trick?”

“Hold on there, bud. We gotta ask mommy,” Charlie said on a chuckle.

“Can we mommy, please, please, please, please!” CJ was pouring on all the emotions and sweetness. You didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Go ahead, have fun. Please, no broken bones!”

“Thank you, mommy.” His hug was quick before he was grabbing hold of Charlie’s hand to yank him away. As he did, Charlie looked back to you with a melancholic smile, one you refused to read into.

When you walked back inside, you were the one to pick up the toys you’d just told your son to pick up. You didn’t mind this time; you needed something to keep yourself busy. Picking up CJ’s toys turned into rearranging some of the things in the living room, and that turned into sweeping, then vacuuming and finally mopping. You could hear the jolly screams and laughs from inside the yard, and though it made you happy to hear how happy CJ was, it also filled you with a hint of sadness, one you’d worked hard to ignore.

Every so often, you found yourself drifting to the windows to watch on as the two of them played. Every time you looked out, they were doing something different. Once it was tricks on BMX bikes, another time it was weird acrobatics like handstands and flips, and when you looked out once and saw them actually building mud monsters, you nearly lost your shit at how adorable they were together. That was when you stepped up the cleaning and began cleaning the kitchen.

Once the cleaning was finished, you moved on to starting dinner. An hour passed then two, and you were in the thick of things. You’d only intended on cooking lasagna, but that turned into lasagna with sautéed broccoli, and garlic bread and dessert. It was apparent to you that you were anxiety cooking. Before you finished, though in they bounded downright filthy but over the moon.

“Mommy, look!” CJ ran to you completely covered in a mixture of dried and wet mud with grass stains. He looked ready to throw his arms around you before you scurried behind the kitchen island.

“Charles Matthew Hunnam, don’t you dare get me dirty.” His laughter was loud.

“Fine, but look what we brought you.” He held out a bouquet of handpicked flowers of all varieties. A smile stretched across your face. You knew it was going to happen before it did.

“You picked me flowers?”

“Yup, it was daddy’s idea, then we had a competition who could pick the most. I won,” CJ happily boasted. The tears welling in your eyes could not be stopped from spilling.

“Thank you, CJ, they are gorgeous. I love them almost as much as I love you.” CJ’s smile was just as wide, and your heart melted.

“If you weren’t as filthy as a lost boy, I would hug you and kiss you, so if you want that hug and kiss, you better get showered.”

“Okay, mommy.” CJ began to run away but stopped and came back to stand before Charlie. “Are you going to leave now?” His tone was low, and he looked like he was about to cry.

“Uh—well, I hadn’t planned on staying this long.”

“No! No, no, stay please, please, please. Mommy said she was going to make lasagna. It’s my favorite,” CJ rattled on.

“Mine too,” Charlie admitted. You knew it.

“Mommy, daddy loves your lasagna too; can he stay for dinner with us? Please, please, pleeeeeeease!”

“CJ, I’m sure that your dad has things he has to do.”

“No, he doesn’t, I asked outside he said he has nothing to do. Please, mommy, for meeeeee.” His whine was becoming incessant, sighing you accepted defeat.

“Okay, only because I’d do anything for you.” CJ smiled widely again then hugged Charlie before he ran off, leaving the two of you standing there.

“Uh—I can take shower duty, or have you transitioned him to alone ones?”

“He’s all yours.” Charlie nodded and walked up the stairs where CJ just disappeared from.

Once alone, you looked at the flowers in your hands and ignored the flutter in your belly and the sight of one of your favorite wildflowers, dab smack in the middle of the bouquet, the one only Charlie knew about —poppies.

Nearly forty minutes later, dinner was underway, and it felt like old times, the times during your marriage before things went to shit. CJ talked about everything under the sun. He told Charlie all about his soccer schedule and who his friends were in school this month, he even told him all the gossip in his class. It was like he was making up for the last three weeks he hadn’t seen him. That made you sad, but you knew it was just how life was. Charlie was now a full-fledged movie star, and though his star rose years ago, it was still rising. Thanks to his insanely successful show, Sons of Anarchy, his name was a household one, and it came with thousands of thirsty groupies.

Charlie laughed loudly as he threw his head back, clearly amused by one of CJ’s stories. He truly looked to be enjoying himself to the fullest. You’d long known that CJ was the best thing that had ever happened to Charlie. You’d spent long nights talking about just how much he loved that little boy and everything in you loved to hear him talk about how enamored he was with him. You knew that would never change, no matter what happened between the two of you.

A little more than halfway through dinner Charlie’s eyes met yours, and it felt like forever ago that you’d looked into them. They looked different, sadder, more detached, and full of something that looked like pain. He looked different to you now than he had months ago. Maybe he was different, you thought.

“Mommy, can I have dessert?”

Snapping out of it, you smiled and nodded to your son. “Absolutely, a slice of pineapple upside-down cake coming right up.” You stood and walked into the kitchen to fix three plates of the dessert. When you came back, the two of them were doing thumb wars. Shaking your head, you put the plates down and tried not to think about how much different things could have been.

The three of you ate your sweet treat and continued to emulate the perfect family. Once dessert was finished, Charlie was the one to initiate doing the dishes something you remembered he promised on your wedding day to do when he loved you the most to show you he cared and appreciated you. There was no way that was the reason now. While he did the dishes with CJ, you busied yourself with finding yet another thing to clean. It was a habit at this point.

After the tidying was completed, you sat in front of the TV to watch an episode of CJ’s favorite cartoon, The Last Airbender. Through the entire episode, he and Charlie whispered and chatted about the episode then pretended to be from warning nations while they did their bending. It was then you faced how much you missed nights like this. It had been close to two years since the three of you spent time together like this. It was done on purpose. You didn’t think you could handle it. You had no idea how you were now.

Before you knew it, the time had run away, and it was now almost ten. After telling CJ to get into bed, hit the bottle of your go-to liquor, hoping to find some form of strength to hold you up. Having Charlie there playing doting dad and husband as if he was no longer a part of your life hurt, it hurt a hell of a lot. You still had some animosity about the way things ended.

When you made it upstairs, Charlie was sitting at the foot of CJ’s bed looking as if he were about to read him his bedtime story. “Oh, it’s cool. You guys go ahead,” you began.

“Mommy, can you both read to me, like how you used to,” CJ pleaded. That was like a knife to the gut. You’d made CJ your top priority your whole like, and when you and Charlie began to have problems, his happiness was the only thing the two of you agreed on. You didn’t want him to feel as if he were missing anything, but right now, you saw he felt the void.

“Of course, baby.” Walking around the bed to CJ’s pillow, you settled in your usual place and lifted your bare legs into the bed to cuddle beside your son. CJ dropped his head on your chest, where he knew he could listen to your heart. It was an action he’d always done ever since he was a little boy.

You kissed the top of his head before you began. “Ready?” CJ nodded. Charlie held out the book to you, but you shook your head. “I’ve got it memorized. You keep it.”

You took another breath, then began. “A mother bird sat on her egg. The egg jumped. Oh, oh! said the mother bird. “My baby will be here! He will want to eat. I must get something for my baby bird to eat! She said. I will be back! So away, she went.” CJ burrowed deeper into your side, making you smile. When you looked up, Charlie’s eyes were glued on the two of you. Nodding, you signaled for him to take over.

Charlie cleared his throat and took a breath. “The egg jumped. It jumped and jumped and jumped! Out came the baby bird. Where is my mother, he said? He looked for her. He looked up; he did not see her. He looked down; he did not see her. I will go and look for her. So away, he went.” He read it without looking at the book. He just stared at CJ.

With your turn, you read the next few pages, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off Charlie. He watched you as you watched him, and it was the most perfect thing. For the next ten or so minutes, you read the book to your son together. When he spoke, he never once looked down at the pages, never once broke the eye contact between you. The only time he glanced from your eyes was to look into his son’s. There were so many instances you had to stifle the flutter of your heart, and countless times, you found yourself looking over his hands and forearms. Even when he caught you, you didn’t seem to care. His voice coupled with how enamored he looked with CJ and vice versa and how rugged he looked, was wreaking havoc on you, especially when you remembered the miscarriage. Once you remembered that, a bitter taste filled your mouth, which brought you back to your reality.

“All right, prince charming, that’s it,” you gently informed. CJ was still wide awake.

“Aww. Does that mean you’re leaving now, daddy?” Charlie sighed, and it brought your attention to him. He looked equally as distraught as CJ did. The pit of your stomach knotted. This was never the fun part.

“I’m afraid so, buddy.”

“No. Stay, please. I don’t want you to go. I won’t see you for weeks. I miss you. Don’t you miss me? It’s like you don’t like being here with me or with us,” CJ rushed out. You could hear the pain in his voice, and it broke you in two. Looking at Charlie, you could see it was the same for him.

“Of course, I miss you, buddy. I miss you more than I have the words to say. I always want to be with you, to be here, but you know that’s not our life anymore,” Charlie carefully explained.

“Baby, it’s all right. Your dad loves you more than anything in this world,” you assured, hoping to smooth things over. It didn’t look like he believed one word you said.

“Bud, I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you!” With that, the silence in the room was heavy. Charlie looked at his wit’s end with how to console him, and you knew what to do, but you didn’t think you had the strength. You could feel CJ’s tears, and that was the last straw.

“Look at me, CJ.” Slowly he rose his head to you. you wiped his cheeks and kissed his forehead. “He’ll be here when you wake up.” It was a whisper because that was all you could muster.

“What?” Charlie’s shock was evident. You looked at him and sighed.

“You should stay. He needs this—he needs you.”

Charlie searched your eyes before he spoke again. “Are you sure?”

No, you weren’t sure. This was probably a bad idea for you, but for CJ, it was the best solution. Nodding your response, you looked back to CJ.

“He can stay, mommy?” His smile was right back where it should be.

“He can stay love, but you have to go to sleep.”

Yayy!” CJ threw his arms around you to show his gratitude and excitement. You kissed him once more then stood.

“Bed.” CJ kissed your jaw, then dropped back onto his bed and snuggled in his covers.

“I’m going to stay; it’s been a while since I’ve watched him sleep,” Charlie whispered. Nodding, you walked out the door, leaving it slightly ajar.

Again, you busied yourself preparing the guestroom, hoping the movement would distract you from not only thinking but worrying about the ramifications of your decision. This would be the first time in almost two years you’d slept under the same roof. Divorced meant over and done with. Of course, divorced with a child didn’t give a shit about over and done. He’d forever be in your life.

The message you’d received from him a few days ago reminded you of just that. It was the most unexpected thing, the most heartbreaking message you’d gotten from him in a long time. It was so heartbreaking you had to lock yourself in the bathroom with the faucet and shower running to hide the sounds of your bawling from CJ. You ended up hiding in there for close to an hour, and even when you reemerged, you were emotionally unstable for the remainder of the evening. You were so emotionally unstable; there was no way you trusted yourself to respond, so you left it on read. What the fuck were you supposed to say to it anyway?

After changing the sheets and straightening up a few things, you retreated to your bedroom for some quiet time, quiet time you desperately needed. You didn’t know how to get through the next twenty-four hours. You were struggling. Staring in the mirror, you objectively looked at yourself. You saw the truth, you always had. You just couldn’t afford to let that truth slip to the surface.

The knock at the door had you leaping to your feet. When you opened it, there was Charlie, and your stomach liked what it saw.

“Fast asleep?” He nodded and looked down at the floor.

“I don’t have to stay in the house. I can sleep in my car,” Charlie suggested.

“I’d do anything for you—for CJ.” The way he said it had your heart racing.

“It’s fine. I have space. Come on.” You walked out of your bedroom and down the hall leading him to the guestroom you’d just prepped. When he walked into the room, you watched as he looked around.

“I just changed the sheets; they’d been on for weeks. It should be all good.”

He turned to you, nodding his head. “Thank you, love dove.”

The name hit you like a mack truck. You audibly “oofed” as you wrapped your arms around your midsection, instantly feeling the effect and the loneliness it brought on. He used to always call you that name, a day would never go by without him whispering it in your ear, against your neck, or your lips. You were brought back to happier times where you’d be locked in your room in bed, just ravaging each other, and he’d whisper it the entire time.

Charlie must have been going through the same thing you were because he looked regretful before he spoke. “Sorry. Old habits.”

Again, your stares lingered, and the air in the room was heavy and hot. It was like the last year or so didn’t happen, like he hadn’t broken your heart. He still had an effect.

“Good night.” It was quickly said, and your exit was just as quick. You spent the next forty or so minutes in the shower. You hoped it would help to calm you down, but it didn't do that, it just gave you more anxiety.

When you got out, you began to wonder if you’d placed towels in the room. When you saw them in your closet, you realized you’d brought them here mistakenly. Once you wrapped in your robe, you made your way to his room to drop them off. You knocked once, then twice, but neither knocks were answered. Deciding you could chance sneaking in to put the towels down, you opened the door. The sound of the shower running gave you your answer as to why he didn’t answer. Quickly you walked to the bed and put the stack of grey towels on the bed. As you neared it, out came Charlie in all his wet glory. In your shock, the towels fell to the floor and had your eyes snapping shut.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I forgot to leave some towels. I knocked; you didn’t answer.”

The room was silent; he didn’t speak. You wondered what he was doing. Was he trying to cover himself? Using your hands as your eyes, you felt for the towels you’d dropped. In seconds frustration filled you when you couldn’t find them. Opening your eyes for a second, you saw the towels, but when you looked only a centimeter up, there was his junk right in front of you. He hadn’t budged from his spot and hadn’t even made an attempt to cover himself.

You meant to look away immediately, but that didn’t happen. He was maybe half a foot from you, close enough to touch. Charlie had always been the most attractive man that you’d seen. He’d always done it for you. With you on your knees before him, you realized that hadn’t changed. A son, a miscarriage, a messy ending to your marriage, and a divorce had done nothing to temper how much you always seemed to want him or be attracted to him.

You were kneeling there in wide-eyed amazement. It had been years since you’d seen him like this. The deterioration of your marriage meant you spent lots of nights lonely and unloved. Before you gave him divorce papers, it had been seven whole months since you’d been intimate. When you added on the four months it took for the divorce to finalize and the year of being a divorcee, you hadn’t gotten laid in over two years. It was shameful because right now you knew why only he had an impact, only he would do.

“It’s okay,” Charlie whispered. His voice was shaking, and he sounded hopelessly breathless. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before in great detail.”

Again, you remembered all the things you’d done to him in great detail over the six years of your marriage. Jumping to your feet, you tried your hardest to look away from his inviting appendage. You held out the stack of towels to him with your head turned to the side and waited for him to take them. When his hands grasped the items, they brushed yours and sent thousands of electric sparks through your hand and directly into your heart.

Your eyes met again, and they lingered on each other. You hoped he couldn’t hear your heart, hoped he couldn’t tell what a fraud you were.

“I should go,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to.” His response awoke a need in you that you thought you’d buried. You knew what he was suggesting. Everything in you wanted to take the gentle suggestion and cross the room to him, but then what.

Groaning, you peeled your eyes from his and turned. “Yes, I have to. Good night Charlie.” Those were the last words before you made your rapid exit.

The following morning you awoke to the scent of food being prepared. When you looked at the clock, it was almost ten. Usually, you’d be up by eight. You’d slept in. Quickly you brushed your teeth and pulled on a pair of leggings then went downstairs. As you neared the kitchen, you could smell the evidence of what promised to be a delicious breakfast. You turned, and there was Charlie standing over the store in his tank cooking away. Good lord help you he’d buffed up even more, you thought. Times like these you wished things had been different. You missed mornings like this. Charlie looked up and smiled when he saw you. As you approached, his eyes roamed your body before his eyebrows knitted together.

“What?”

“Is that my hoodie?” You looked over yourself and realized your error. It was normal for you to sleep in his clothes, but you didn’t realize you still worse it.

“Nope.” It was a lie but one he couldn’t fully prove.

Charlie scoffed but didn’t speak again for a long time. You took the opportunity to bring up his impromptu visit.

“You can’t just show up unannounced Charlie. That is not okay. You can see CJ whenever you want I have never kept the two of you apart but just showing up here—you can’t.”

Charlie nodded and but kept his eyes down. “I know, I’m sorry. I just—I really missed CJ, and I had to see him, so see you. I couldn’t stay away. I wanted to talk.”

What the hell were you supposed to say to that, you thought. Sensing your speechlessness, Charlie spoke. “I’m sorry about last night. I was out of line.”

“Let’s not talk about it, CJ will be down any minute.”

“I have to talk about it. I’m losing my mind. I’ve been losing it for the last near two years, and—I’m struggling,” Charlie admitted. His candor shook you. Half of you wanted to know more, but the other half was too scared.

“Charlie, it’s fine. Let’s move on.”

“I can’t. I can’t be like you. You have everything so put together. You’ve pieced this life together without me, and I can’t seem to piece any life together without you—without CJ.”

It was then CJ came running down. It should have been sooner because you were absolutely ruined now. You and Charlie stared at each other. He was daring you to speak, to acknowledge what he’d just dropped on you.

“Daddy!” CJ jumped onto Charlie bringing his attention to your son. You took the reprieve to dip into the half bath to pull yourself together.

You tried to wrap your head around what he’s said, tried to make sense of it. After five minutes, you still couldn’t come to terms with it, so you did the next best thing, pushed it aside. When you walked back out, CJ was sitting at the dining table, as was Charlie.

“Ready to eat, mommy?”

“Absolutely.” You sat at the table and dove into the food, all the while avoiding Charlie’s eyes. Through breakfast, he and CJ talked and joked with each other. It was a welcomed chatter because it took the attention off you.

Once breakfast was finished, you cleaned the dishes while CJ got himself dressed for a playdate he’d been looking forward to the whole week. Now that Charlie was there, he refused to go. It wasn’t until Charlie promised he’d still be there when he got back did CJ agree. When the two of them came down, CJ was dressed and ready just in time for him to be picked up. You thanked Claudia for setting it up the playdate and waved goodbye to CJ from the front door.

When you turned around, Charlie was leaning on the steps watching. You hesitated closing the door to enclose yourself in a confined space that had plenty of surfaces for him to bend you over. When you did, you quickly walked back to the kitchen.

“We have to talk, Y/N.”

“No, we don’t. There is nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit. After yesterday, last night, even in the kitchen this morning. We have plenty to talk about,” Charlie responded, following you through the house.

“Charlie, don’t.”

“I have to. Are you happy? Like really happy? It’s been a year. Are you happy? Is this what you wanted? Did you want our son feeling like a consolation in our relationship?”

“Are you happy? You’ve gotten what you wanted.”

“Me?! Y/N, you gave me divorce papers. You left our house and never came back,” Charlie shouted through clenched jaws.

“Oh right, I’m the big bad wolf. You know how to fight for a role, but you have no clue how to fight for your marriage, your son. Classic.” You slammed the kitchen fridge unsure why you’d opened it in the first place.

“Don’t pull that. I fought, I came to you over and over, begging you not to do it, pleading with you. You refused to listen.”

“What did you come to me for Charlie? What the hell did you prove to me? What did you show me? What was I going back for? The same bullshit? The same treatment?! In all the times you came begging and pleading, you never once showed me how things would change. You just didn’t want a divorce under your belt. You didn’t want the press to get wind of it.”

“That’s bullshit! I wanted my wife; I wanted my son! You didn’t want me. When did you stop loving me, Y/N?”

You looked at him incredulously. He had to be fucking kidding, you thought. Your anger was rising by leaps and bounds, and you knew the next words out your mouth were going to be venom. “Is the weight of it all too heavy now, Charlie? A year later, a year after you switched up and changed? A year after you showed me time and time and again what was important, who was important. You showed me I didn’t mean shit; CJ didn’t mean shit. I was not going to stay and turn into those Hollywood couples who hated each other and only remained for the spotlight. No!”

“You gave up on me,” Charlie whispered.

“Fuck you! You gave up. You gave up on me and us long before I left you those divorce papers. You did.” You walked away because you could feel your tears spilling over, but you turned around back to him, tired of hiding the fallout of his actions. “You know what makes all of this so much worse? My friends told me this would happen. They told me before we got married, told me to slow down, be careful with you, and I defended you. I defended you till kingdom come. Look where we are, Charlie! Living in a perfect lie!”

“I don’t want to live this lie. I miss you, Y/N. I miss CJ. I miss our life; I miss our family. I’m miserable,” Charlie dropped.

His tears ran down his cheeks, and you flared your nose. This was always your weakness. Charlie had always been in touch with his emotions, but his emotions had to be overwhelming for him to cry.

“Good. You sowed this Charlie. You brought all of this on. My baby--,” you began, but the pain was too much. Charlie sobbed and dropped his head back.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he approached you. You steadily backed away from him, not wanting him to touch you.

“Y/N,” Charlie began as you shook your head.

“No. I’m not doing this with you. I refuse.”

Charlie quickly caught you before you turned and kept you facing him. “You can’t run from this Y/N. Face it with me, please.”

You kept a straight face, refusing to cry any more. You refused to allow him any closer than he already was. You wouldn’t survive it this time. Charlie grunted out in frustration when he realized you were hell-bent on keeping him at bay.

“Y/N!”

“What do you want from me, Charlie?” You shot death rays right at him.

“I want you to say anything! Scream! Yell at me! Just something to show you fucking care.”

“Why should I care? Why the hell should I give one flying fuck?”

“Because I’m still in love with you!”

The words felt like a slap in the face. You’d imagined how they’d sound coming from him during the whole divorce process, during the whole year after the divorce. You were convinced he didn’t love you anymore for him to have treated you the way he did, for him to have done what he did in Cannes. The stress of it brought on your miscarriage.

Though you’d wanted to hear them, you hadn’t prepared to hear them.

“I love you. God, I can't keep pretending like I'm okay with any of this. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t kill me to be away from you, to be away from CJ. I can’t act like I’m thriving or happy. I’m not. I’m miserable. I wish I could press rewind and go back and better, do better. I wish I knew better then, as I know now. I fucked up, and I regret it more than I’ve ever regretted anything in my life. If I had been a better man, none of this would have happened. If I’d only been the man you deserved our baby—our princess would be here right now. I will have to live with that for the rest of my life, the pain that I caused your miscarriage, the pain that I broke our vows, that I broke your heart, I broke us.”

Charlie dropped his forehead to your collar, and his tears dropped across your chest. They felt like acid peeling away every barrier you’d built between him and your heart. He was saying everything you want him to, everything. He wasn’t holding anything back. They were words you’d desperately wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry, love dove. I never wanted to give up on you--on us. I loved you so much. You were my world until CJ. Then you became my universe. I lost myself. I lost sight of you and me. I lost sight of the man I was and wanted to be. For that, I will always be sorry. Losing you and CJ, it broke me. I stand here a broken man. I had to find me again. It’s been hard, but the root of me is you and my son. My family. You have always been what mattered, and I regret I ever lost that, that I ever made you feel like you weren’t my everything.”

One lone tear rolled down your cheek, and that was just the beginning. When Charlie swiped it away with the pad of his thumb, the flood gates opened. You bawled uncontrollably, all your emotions finally catching up to you. Charlie wept with you, and that was how the two of you stayed for countless minutes.

When you opened your eyes and realized how close he was, you sniffled. Slowly the two of you inched to one another. Before your lips touched, both of you hesitated. “Fall back in love with me, love dove.” He whispered.

He really thought you’d ever fallen out of love with him. “You’re an idiot if you think I’ve ever fallen out of love with you.” The hope you saw in Charlie’s eyes set your belly fluttering. It was overwhelming. Charlie claimed your lips in a soft but passionate kiss that took your breath away. It was so intense you felt as if you’d been possessed by sheer desire. The kiss began timid and soft, but in seconds, it had turned into a lustful and sensual soul transference. Charlie’s hands gripped your hips and pulled you flush against him before he lifted you in his arms.

Wrapping your legs around him, you kissed him back with as much heat as you kissed you. Soon the two of you were walking through the house blindly looking for anywhere. Charlie plopped you onto something, and the backs of your knees said it was the kitchen island. Quickly both of you stripped each other. He pulled off his hoodie from your body as you peel his shirt off. Charlie cupped your breasts when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra then dipped his mouth to your mounds. Instantly you moaned and hugged his head to your flesh.

Charlie nipped and hypnotizingly sucked your skin, bringing you more and more ecstasy. It had been so long since you’d felt like this; you didn’t want to think about anything else but the sensations. Charlie pushed you back onto the island and brought his lips down your stomach to your hip. Once there, he pulled off your leggings in one fluid motion. His beard tickled your skin and had you wriggling underneath him. Charlie’s groan was loud when he realized you wore nothing under those leggings.

In seconds he’d draped your legs over his shoulder and reclaimed claimed ownership of the most intimate part of you. He moaned as he lapped at your wetness and teased and pleased your body. You bucked your hips against his lips, feeling your orgasm barrel toward you. Everything in you said it was going to be a catastrophic one. You panted and gasped his name as your body wildly thrashed, unable to control it any longer.

“Aah, yes, right there. Yes, Charlie, yes, yes!”

Your scream was loud, and the tightness of your legs around his head was enough to suffocate. Charlie didn’t panic. Instead, he lifted your lower half into the air and continued his feast, not caring if you were overstimulated or not. Your screech echoed off the walls of the kitchen, and you tried to pry him away from your sex. He refused to budge even when you’d unwrapped your legs the best you could. Yet another orgasm ripped through you, sending a gush of moisture all over his mouth and beard. Charlie groaned, gripped your breasts, and squeezed hard enough for you to know just how tightly wound he was.

When he pried your legs from around him, you felt the renewed fire and quickly slid off the island to drop before him. You hurriedly stripped him eager to have him. Once he was free, his heavy cock bobbed in front of you. Wasting no more time, you slid him into your mouth, ignoring your gag and took every inch he was blessed with. Charlie shouted and hugged your head to his cock, keeping him lodged tightly in your throat. Sensing the low levels of your air supply, he pulled back enough to give you a brief reprieve. It was all you needed and more than you wanted.

Slamming him back into your mouth, you lodged him in your throat again, all the while moaning enthusiastically. Charlie’s hands never left your head just as his mouth never closed. Moan after moan fell from him as you sucked and slurped his length. In no time at all, Charlie was thrusting into your mouth hell-bent on finding his long-overdue release. Just as you were finding a groove, Charlie pulled from your mouth with a loud “pop” before he pulled you up and pushed you onto the island.

With you bent over the island and your ass poked out for him, Charlie rubbed his cock across your soaking folds sending shivers through you. He bent to your ear and kissed you.

“I love you, only you. Endlessly for eternity.” It was the same thing he’d said the night of your wedding before he joined you for the first time as husband and wife. When you peeped behind you and locked eyes with him, you knew the two of you had an understanding. Charlie kissed your back then snapped his hips forward, harshly, and completely filling you to the hilt. You shouted and gripped the island. Your knees bucked from the sheer pleasure of just this. When you clenched around him, Charlie, have you just what you wanted—a rough tryst.

Every slam into your core had you clenching around him. Each thrust was more bruising than the last, and each one brought tears to your eyes. They weren’t hurt tears; they were a mixture of relief and complete joy. You shouted his name over and over, not caring how needy or desperate you sounded. You could feel how on edge he was; his body shook every time he filled you, and every time you said his name, he shouted yours.

When Charlie began jackhammering into you clearly lost in his pleasure, you left planet Earth. Only he could have you like this. Only he could fuck you into outer space. You knew he was close, and the second he whimpered behind you, you pressed back into him, throwing your ass back onto him. Charlie sucked in a breath, and his whimpers intensified. The slap to your ass was the last thing you needed to be pushed over the edge, an edge you dragged him over. Charlie grunted and groaned as he filled you with every ounce of his love.

It took several long moments for the two of you to come down from your sultry sex bubble. After having you across the island, you rode him until his toes curled, and he saw stars on the kitchen floor leaned against the same island. By the time you’d both stopped, hours had passed. Neither of you were fully satiated. As Charlie hugged you to him still buried deep within you, he tipped your chin so you were looming at him.

“Marry me again.” Shocked, you searched his face for his meaning.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am. Will you be my wife again?” the gleam of silver caught your eye, and you looked down to see him wearing your engagement and wedding ring on a chain around his neck. Your world shattered. He’d worn them this entire time. Locking eyes with him again, you knew he could tell you realized what he was wearing.

“All this time?” Charlie held up his hand to show you the silver wedding band he still wore.

“I promised forever; I wasn’t done with it.” Your tears fell, and so many emotions filled you; you had no idea which one to go with.

“I have to do whatever it takes to stop my heart from being broken, Charlie,” you whispered.

“I’ll never break your heart again. I know how it ends. I know what it means. I can’t risk my life without you or CJ anymore. I can’t.” His tears welled, and you believed him.

“Surrender to me, love dove. Surrender to me as I can only surrender to you.” His voice was pleading with you. Closing your eyes, you listened to your soul, the place where no fear lived. When you looked at him, you trailed your thumb across his bottom lip.

“Give them back.” Charlie looked confused for a few seconds before he got it. Quickly he yanked the chain from around his neck and slid the rings off to hover them over your finger before he locked eyes with you.

“Never again will we be here. Never again will I lose us,” Charlie forcefully vowed.

“Never again will I walk away,” you responded. He looked overwhelmingly emotional then, but you could see him holding as much of it back as possible. When he slid the rings onto your finger, both of you sighed as if you both felt instant relief.

You knew this was a new beginning for the two of you but also for CJ. You knew that neither of you would ever again make the same mistakes.

“I surrender,” you both whispered together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#that old thing back one shot #Charlie Hunnam #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam x reader #Charlie Hunnam x you #Charlie hunnan x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #charlie hunnam smut

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Galactica, Chapter 43 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hola muffins! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Adore threw a tantrum, but it may have been justified.

This Chapter: Bianca has some ‘splainin to do, Courtney plays pretend, Violet gets some exciting news, and Fame has a workplace scare.

***

The first thing Bianca did when she got home on Friday was kick off her stilettos, giving her poor feet a break after the long week. The second thing she did was feed the dogs, her beloved chihuahuas jumping around like crazy while she filled their bowls and freshened up their water dishes. And the third thing? She emptied almost a full bottle of Cabernet into a wine glass, carrying it upstairs to her room.

She opened the door, flipped on the lights, and that’s when she nearly had a heart attack.

Adore, who was on the sofa in her bedroom sitting area, had apparently been waiting for her in the dark.

“Jesus fucking christ!” Bianca said, clutching her chest, a wine stain already spreading on her area rug where she’d spilled in fear.

“Hello Bianca.”

“What the fuck are you doing sitting here in the dark, you psychopath?” Bianca crouched down, examining the stain. “Fuck.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Normal people use a phone!” Bianca sighed, standing back up. “This rug is destroyed, by the way.”

Bianca pointed, doing her best not to spill again, the thought of having to make arrangements with a decorator already putting her on edge, but she guessed she’d just have Joslyn take care of it.

“Thank you for that.” Bianca shook her head, sitting down in the armchair across from Adore. “So, what’s going on?”

“I thought,” said Adore, “that you didn’t have any secrets from me.”

She looked wounded, like a child, and Bianca groaned internally. This had to be about Pearl.

“I don’t, pussycat.” Bianca set her wine down and leaned forward. “I’m an open book for you.”

It was true. There were things Adore knew that Bianca would never tell another soul--and vice versa. Bianca would never, for the life of her, lie to Adore. On the other hand, there were things that she just didn’t feel right bringing up.

“Oh yeah? Then why didn’t you tell me about Fame and Pearl? Huh?” Adore accused.

There it was.

“That wasn’t my secret to tell,” Bianca offered, hoping that Adore would believe her. She wouldn’t have lied, not if she was asked a direct question, but why open up a can or worms if she didn’t have to? Why risk hurting Adore, why betray Fame’s trust, all for this ill-fated, hopefully short-lived relationship with Pearl fucking Liaison?

“Bullshit!”

“Adore…”

“No, I don’t understand. Because you say you love me, you want to protect me, but you lied to me, you lied, for months, and-”

“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you-”

“I’m gonna strangle you right now, bitch,” Adore said, seething with anger. “You fucking lied!”

The semantics argument would never work--Bianca could see that. So instead, she sighed, rubbing her temples, and changed tactics entirely. “Would it have made a difference?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“If I had told you everything. Broken Fame’s trust, told you all about everything I knew. Would it have changed the way you felt about Pearl? Would it have stopped you from liking her?”

Bianca knew her sister, knew that Adore would most likely have dug in her heels and wanted Pearl even more if a pseudo-parent figure had sat her down and tried to explain all the reasons why she was a terrible choice. If it was guaranteed to stop Adore from getting hurt, Bianca would probably have told her and risked Fame’s wrath.

“Well…” Adore paused, considering the question. “Probably not, but-”

“Well, there you go.” Bianca picked up her glass again and took a large sip. In all honesty, she felt a lot better that it had come out, especially without her having to be the one to tell. Maybe now, Adore would start to see Pearl for who she truly was.

“B…”

“Yes?”

Adore’s lip quivered, eyes shining with tears, and Bianca knew that she’d cave. She always did.

She moved to the sofa, wrapping Adore into her arms, her younger sister curling into her lap the way she used to, even if it was a bit ridiculous now, considering that Adore was so much taller than her.

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” she murmured into Adore’s hair as she rocked her.

“I need to trust you, B,” Adore cried, clinging to her. “I thought you were the one person who would always be honest with me.”

Bianca brushed her tears away, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Adore sniffled, nodding.

“What can I do to make it up to you? Hmm?”

“Can Pearl come to Thanksgiving?” Adore asked, perking up a little. The little rat seemed to have that answer ready awfully quickly.

“Ughh, Adore, you’re still with her?”

“Yes! She’s not the one who lied to me. She assumed I knew all along,” Adore said. “And besides, some of us are mature enough to handle real relationships.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. But…” Adore shrugged, “When’s the last time you dated someone longer than a month?”

“Fine. Pearl can come to Thanksgiving,” Bianca said. Anything to avoid the dreaded ‘why don’t you ever commit?’ conversation.

Adore’s face broke into a happy grin, throwing her arms back around Bianca’s neck.

“Thank you, B! I always knew you were my favorite sister.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

***

Pearl was humming along to the music in her headphones as she made her way towards the laundry room, basket under her arms. Normally, Katya was the one who washed everyone's clothes, even taking Pearl’s too, but this weekend, Trixie had taken her to Coney Island, and Pearl was nothing if not a good roomie.

At least when it suited her.

Pearl pushed the door open, fully expecting the basement to be devoid of anyone she knew, but instead of bumping into some random neighbor, she saw Violet bent over and pulling her clothes out of the washer.

Pearl smirked, leaning against the doorframe for a minute to watch Violet stretch, her ass absolutely delicious in the tight yoga pants she was wearing. Violet stood back up, still not noticing Pearl, and while Pearl didn’t mind peeking, she didn’t want to upset the truce between her and Violet, so she coughed, causing Violet to turn around.

“Oh.” Violet looked genuinely surprised, her hands filled with workout clothes. “Hi Pearl, I didn’t-” Violet paused, looking at the basket under Pearl’s arm.. “... Are you washing clothes?”

“Yes?” Pearl smirked, “Did you think I didn’t?”

“Honestly? I did… Think you didn’t?” Violet bit her lip, tilting her head. “I’ve never imagined you doing chores, ever.”

“Good to hear that you’re thinking about me, Chachki.” Pearl grinned, satisfaction curling up her spine.

“Sure.” Violet snorted, moving aside so there was room for Pearl to walk into the small room.

“A girl can dream.”

“Don’t get too full of yourself.” Violet smiled, pouring her own clothes into the dryer. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“I think you think it suits me fine.” Pearl wiggled her brows. She knew that she probably shouldn’t be flirting with Violet, but it was impossible not to, least of all when it was so fun.

“Whatever.” Violet rolled her eyes, but she still looked amused. She started the dryer, but didn’t make a move to leave, Pearl noticing that she had a thermos and a stack of magazines, Violet grabbing one of them.

“My my Vivi,” Pearl closed the lid on the washer. “Planning to sit on the dryer?”

“What? No, ew, Pearl!” Violet slapped her on the shoulder with the magazine. “Shut up!”

“You can’t make me.” Pearl grinned, getting up and leaning against the small table Violet had put her setup out on. “So what are we reading?”

***

“Tati!” Courtney called out, waving to get her friend’s attention in the crowded Port Authority bus terminal. They’d both realized how much they missed each other at the Halloween party, with Courtney working crazy hours and living all the way up in the Bronx, and Tatianna staying with her cousins in New Jersey.

The truth was that Courtney had felt a bit disconnected from all of her friends recently. She still managed to at least text with Adore every day, but it was hard to keep up with everyone else--something she was determined to fix.

The girls hugged fiercely, then headed out, towards the cute brunch spot that Ivy had recommended. Courtney noticed right away that Tatianna seemed a bit reserved, not all all like her usual bubbly self.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, squeezing her friend’s hand as they waited for the light to change.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s been alright. I’m just getting a little bit frustrated with the whole modeling thing. I still haven’t found a decent agent, and all I keep on getting are these cattle calls. I just...ugh, sometimes I wonder if it’s all just a mistake.” She heaved a sigh, shoulders slumped, face dejected.

Courtney knew exactly how she felt. She’d gone through the exact same thing when she moved to New York, trying desperately to go on as many auditions as possible. It was so disheartening to feel invisible. But she knew that Tati would make it--she was so beautiful, one of the prettiest girls Courtney had ever known, and the photos Courtney had seen were amazing.

“Don’t give up. I know it’s hard, but...I really think you’re gonna get a break soon.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. And actually… Well, I don’t know what their casting process is, but I’ve gotten really friendly with the head of our makeup department. Maybe I can give her your photos?”

“Are you kidding? That would be the best fucking thing ever!” Tati exclaimed, beaming at her.

Courtney smiled, hoping that she wasn’t over-promising, but thrilled that she seemed to have turned her friend’s mood around.

“That’s honestly so cool though, even if they don’t use me. You’re really making friends in high places!”

“Yeah,” Courtney said, a dry chuckle slipping from her lips. “Actually, there’s a show coming up in a few weeks too, like this private thing at the showroom for the holiday collection. I could try slipping you into the casting pile for that too. Raja is in charge of that and her assistant is super nice.”

“You’re such a fucking goddess, thank you!” Tati said.

“Anytime.”

“So then, are things going better at work? I mean, you’re liking it more?”

“Ummm…” Courtney sighed.

“Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

She really tried to be positive about work. She tried to keep a good attitude, tried not to cringe in fear every time her work phone buzzed after hours. But sometimes, like on a Sunday afternoon when she just wanted to enjoy brunch with her friend but couldn’t keep the racing thoughts about everything she’d have to do in the coming week from intruding—sometimes it was hard. She hadn’t confessed this to her friends yet, for fear of it getting back to Adore. She just didn’t want to seem like she was ungrateful for the opportunity. But something told her that she could trust Tati.

“Well...it’s just...it’s really stressful. All the time, and I keep thinking that it’ll get easier, you know? But instead there’s just more and more and the hours are always long and even when I’m supposed to be sleeping, I’m always thinking about work or worried that I forgot something. Plus, I don’t think Miss Fame likes me very much and it’s just…”

“Shitty?”

“Yeah,” Courtney exhaled, surprised at how much of a relief it felt to unburden herself. “Sometimes I feel like...I’m barely holding on. It’s like I can’t...find the solid ground, you know?”

Tati nodded solemnly, stopping mid stride to turn and give Courtney a big, comforting hug. Then, she suddenly grasped her by the shoulders, a sly smile on her face as she said, “I know what you need!”

Courtney laughed, curiosity distracting her from her troubles as Tati dragged her down the block, right into a high-end boutique filled with clothes that they could never afford in a million years. In that moment, Courtney knew exactly what she was up to--a perfectly ridiculous game they started last year when the stress of school was getting overwhelming.

She had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing when Tatianna found a sales clerk and “introduced” herself.

“Helloooo!” she crooned in a terrible British accent, sticking out her hand as if the woman should kiss it. “Tatianna Buckingham, Duchess of Hamptonshire, pleasure to meet you. This is my friend, Courtney Vanderbilt-Rockefeller, and we need gowns for a gala next week.”

The sales girl smiled patiently, asking them if they wanted some champagne.

“Sounds lovely, darling. Thanks ever so.”

The moment the clerk walked away, Courtney began laughing, whispering, “She totally knew you were lying.”

“So?” Tati challenged. “Maybe she likes to play, too.”

“Maybe,” Courtney giggled, pawing through a rack of floor-length beaded gowns. “Ooh, Tati dahhhling, this turquoise one would look positively diviiine on you!”

“I don’t know about that one, I was planning to wear the rubies and it might clash.”

“Then wear the diamonds, love!”

“Great idea! Alright, let’s try it on!”

The clerk returned with champagne, and Tati held out her glass for a toast, her arms already full of clothes to try on.

“To solid ground,” she said solemnly, and Courtney toasted her back enthusiastically.

“Cheers!”

They spent nearly an hour in the store, trying on gowns, resort wear and pristinely tailored ensembles, taking turns styling each other and then strutting around the dressing room as if it was a Paris runway. The whole thing was silly and fun and made Courtney feel like she used to: young and happy and free.

When they finally left the store to head to brunch, Courtney couldn’t help pull her friend in for a hug, whispering, “Thank you,” into her hair.

“Anytime, buttercup,” Tati told her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

***

“It’s here!” cried Kandy, and a murmur went through the whole design floor, everyone reaching for their respective tablets.

It had been almost an hour since the department head meeting ended, Trixie informing them all that Miss Fame’s office would be sending the team the final prêt-à-porter sketches that had gone to tailoring for production.

Of course Courtney would be slower than death, but Violet had still spent the whole 30 minutes constantly refreshing her email. She knew it was petty considering the number of people that were trying for it, but she really really wanted that jacket spot and she had a few other looks she thought were promising as well.

One, a breezy dress that could be dressed up or down depending on styling, and a top with beautiful sleeve detailing. But the jacket...if the jacket was chosen, then it boded very well for her chance of getting the opening or closing couture look, since the dress she was currently working on used some of the same techniques.

It was probably a pipe dream to even hope for a spot like that, being the newest designer, but Violet was going to give it her best shot.

Violet clicked on the attachment, lip between her teeth as she carefully looked through, doing her best not to skip anything.

The first sketch of hers that she recognized was a skirt, one of the simpler submissions that she hadn’t even felt 100% about, but it fit in with the casual separates. The dress that she liked was in there too--with a note to lengthen the hemline. She wrinkled her nose, hoping that the extra fabric wouldn’t make the skirt look dowdy.

Then, she found it on page 38 among the other outwear--her jacket.

She grinned happily to herself, beyond pleased and excited to have this major success under her belt and more determined than ever to perfect her couture submission.

***

“Courtney! I need the tailoring budgets now!”

Fame shrugged her coat off as she walked into her office, taking her coat and letting it fall, trusting her assistant to catch it before it touched the ground. Fame had just finished her weekly yoga and therapy, talking with her therapist over the phone while stretching out. She didn’t like the therapy, hated doing it actually, but she couldn’t discredit the fact that it did make her feel slightly less anxious to unload on someone once a week.

“Have you talked to Shangela yet?” Fame looked at Courtney, her assistant holding the budget out for her. “I want-” Fame paused, realizing that this was the first time in weeks that she had actually looked at Courtney, the pastel pink no longer in the blonde hair.

Or rather, in what used to be blonde.

“What’s that?” On top of Courtney’s head, was the most disgusting half inch of severely neglected roots, the hair making Courtney’s entire appearance look cheap and tawdry. “Where do you get your hair done?”

Courtney’s hand flew to her hair, covering up the roots as the color drained for her face.

“I do it myself. I’m sorry, I know I need to touch up-”

“Yourself?” Fame tried to remember if she had ever had to reprimand Violet like this, Courtney looking like an absolute disaster. “And how do you think your current hairstyle reflects on the company? And most importantly me?”

“Um...well, I-” Courtney bit her lip, and Fame sighed internally.

For the most part, Courtney had been doing alright. For one thing, she was no longer skipping around the place like a child, and seemed to be taking her job seriously, at least. But in spite of her meager progress, she still had so much to learn. Drug store dye? Did she think this was a strip club instead of a top tier fashion house?

“Remember. Only perfection is acceptable.” Fame said, her tone clipped and pointed as she strode into her office, then turned around and proclaimed, “That’s all,” finally shutting the door in Courtney’s face.

***

Sutan was sitting at his desk at work, a smile on his face as he was reading the email that had just ticked in from Violet.

Normally, it was nearly impossible to get a hold of the woman during work hours, the task even harder now that she didn’t have a work phone anymore, but judging from the excitement that radiated from her email, Violet had been unable to wait until she was off the clock to tell him that she had gotten not one, not two, but three pieces into the prêt-à-porter collection.

Sutan was just about to email her back with congratulations, his mind already racing with how they should celebrate, when he heard a tap on his door.

He was one of the only agents who had an always open door policy, his models and coworkers always welcome, Sutan more often than not getting visits from models that didn’t even belong to him when there was trouble on the horizon, girls coming by to share their frustrations or worries with someone who listened.

Today, however, it wasn’t a model who had shown up at his door.

“Oh,” Sutan smiled. “Tamisha, hello.”

Tamisha Iman was the current CEO of Elite Model with over 30 years of experience in the business. She looked gorgeous as always, her skin perfection even though she was in her mid 50s. She was wearing a red pant suit, her brown hair perfectly styled.

“What can I help you with?”

“Do you have five?”

“Of course.” Sutan raised an eyebrow as Tamisha stepped inside, closing the door behind her. It was years since Tamisha had last been upset with him, and even though she was a firm but fair boss, you never really knew. “Anything wrong?”

“Can I bum a cigarette? I just had the most terrible meeting with the L.A. office-”

“Ah.” Sutan smiled, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. “And who says I smoke?”

“Oh please,” Tamisha rolled her eyes. “I know you got the goods Amrull.”

“I thought you quit last year?”

“Don’t care.”

“Ouch.” Sutan laughed, opening the bottom drawer and pulling out the packets of cigarettes he always kept there. “I only have Camels.”

“That’s fine.” Tamisha had already walked over to his window, opening it and hiking up her skirt to crawl out onto his fire escape. “Are you coming?”

“Course boss.” Sutan smiled as he grabbed his lighter, listening to one of the few people he considered a friend bitch not the worst way to spend an afternoon.

***

Pearl climbed the stairs from the subway, she and Trixie having a rare weekday dinner without Katya since she was busy with parent-teacher conferences, so they’d opted for their favorite dim sum place downtown. As they began walking up the block, Pearl stopped short, her eyes opening wide.

“Oh my god…”

“What?” Trixie asked.

The whole time Pearl was speaking to Dahlia at Adore’s last gig, she was certain that she’d seen the dark-haired beauty somewhere before. Now, looking at the giant XXX LIVE NUDE GIRLS XXX sign, she finally figured it out. She used to use the seedy strip club as a meeting place, whenever she was trying to get info from a straight guy. Granted, that didn’t happen terribly often in the fashion industry, which was probably why she hadn’t thought of it. But as soon as she saw that sign, she knew. Dahlia worked there. Pearl could picture her clear as day, in nothing but a tiny little thong, chest glistening with glitter.

“That strip club,” Pearl said. “Let’s go in!”

“What?” Trixie sputtered a laugh.

“For a drink! Real quick…”

“No way bro, not on your life.”

“Come on!” Pearl begged, reasoning, “Katya wouldn’t care, she’d probably think it was funny.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not interested,” Trixie told her firmly.

“Please, Trix? There’s a girl there that is just like...so fucking hot. I just want to see if she’s working tonight.”

“I’m not interested in helping you cheat on your girlfriend with a stripper, either.” Trixie looked absolutely disgusted with her. He was really the worst wingman in the world.

“It wouldn’t be cheating! We talked about it and agreed that we should be open.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” Pearl grinned, spreading her arms. “I’m living the dream.”

Trixie snorted and shook his head. “If you say so.”

“So will you come inside?”

“Still no.”

Pearl sighed, continued to follow him up the street to the dim sum place, all the while entertaining herself with images of what Dahlia looked like on stage… Her tall, luscious body wrapped in silky lingerie. The subtle scent of her perfume lingering even as she walked away, swaying her perfect hips.

***

The scent of spices was filling Sutan’s kitchen, music playing while he chopped up the last of the chili, humming to himself as he rocked back and forth to the music, a glass of wine getting picked up once in a while.

“What are we listening to?”

Violet was sitting at the table, filing her nails and drinking her own glass of wine as she watched Sutan, but most importantly his ass in those jeans, cooking dinner.

“What?” Sutan looked over his shoulder. “Are you seriously asking that? It’s the Temptations? They’re the only band from the 60s that matters.”

“Really?” Violet looked at Sutan, actually a little surprised at how passionate he seemed to be about music. If Violet was being totally honest, she always preferred instrumentals, vocals often only distracting.

“Yes, really?” Sutan huffed, “Youth these days.”

“I’m sorry,” Violet laughed, the man sounding genuinely offended.

“You better be.” Sutan smiled, tipping the last of the chili into the pan. “Or I might not give you your present.”

“My present?”

“Yes.” Sutan wiped his hands on the tea towel. “Watch the stove, would you?”

Violet was about to protest, but Sutan had already walked off. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to watch, the pasta dish Sutan was whipping together way above her level of cooking skills.

“Here we go.” Sutan walked back into the kitchen, holding a white box, a white ribbon wrapped around it, the word Dior printed on it in gold.

“Is-” Viole stood up, suddenly feeling boiling hot and overwhelmed. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Well,” Sutan grinned, putting the box down on the table in front of her. “Depends on what you think it is?”

“Sutan, I-” Violet didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to think.

“Come on,” Sutan gave her a gentle push with his elbow.

“Are you serious?”

“Open it.”

Violet's hands were shaking as she reached for the ribbon and opened the box. Violet pulled the white paper away, her fingers making contact with the soft purple leather. Her hand flew to her mouth, covering it as she looked into the box, completely overwhelmed before she snapped to Sutan, a look of surprise and confusion on her face.

“Congrats on your designs being picked, lovely eyes.” Sutan smiled. “After getting a good look at your bag at the park the other day,” He raised an eyebrow, Violet remembering that she had shown it in his arms when she had spotted the pug. “I figured you needed a new one.”

“Oh my God, oh God.” Violet could feel the tears gathering in her eyes; she didn’t want to cry, but she was simply so overwhelmed.

Sutan always paid for their meals and their dates, refusing even the sight of Violet’s credit card, but it had never been anything like this before, never a gift that so obviously said, ‘I’m your boyfriend and I care about you.’

“Don’t cry darling,” Violet felt Sutan’s arms around her, pulling her against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Take a look at it.”

Violet nodded, crying as she pulled the Dior Diorissimo in the most gorgeous pale purple leather out of the box.

“A cool designer bag for my cool designer girlfriend.” Sutan grinned, pressing yet another kiss against Violet’s hair. “Hopefully, it’ll be able to withstand the abuse of all the things you insist on lugging around.”

“This is,” Violet didn’t know what to say. “I-” She turned her head, looking up at Sutan. “Thank you. This is… Thank you. I love it.”

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #adore x pearl #bianca del rio #adore delano #pearl liaison #violet chachki #courtney act #tatianna #miss fame #raja gemini #tamisha iman #trixie mattel #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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cultureisdarkbeer · 4 years

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Falling is Complete!

Covering Seasons 4-7

In Milagro, we hear that "Agent Scully is already in love". So the question becomes, When did she fall in love? When was that "one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere". When did that moment occur for Dana Scully? This is that story.

Read it here

*New*

Chapter35

The weekend’s journey had Scully twisting and turning like a Chubby Checker song. It sent her not only back through her life, but down each wrong choice road, like parallel dimensions heard through the chimes of fate. Dreams as soon as a year ago now were irrelevant and obscure. The path she chose led her here on this couch. Turning away all her past lives, opening herself up to the unimaginable, beyond science, beyond religion, to hear the call of a voice, the one she chose to follow, that chose to follow her right back.

She felt her body become weightless as he lifted her from the couch, with gentle strong arms, he pulled her close to his body, it’s warmth, igniting a glow within her. Her eyes fluttered open as he lowered her onto the bed. “Where are you going?” Scully asked sleepily.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he said, tucking the blanket back around her.

“You can stay,” then quickly added, “it’s your bed.”

“It’s okay Scully, get your rest,” he stated firmly, squeezing her hand. She held onto it, refusing to let it go as he started to walk away.

“Hold me?” she asked meekly.

Her vulnerability made him pause. “Yeah. yeah, I can do that.”

He walked around the bed and got in under the covers. She butted her back up against him as he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

“You heard, they’re doing a full financial audit of the FBI,” Scully said. “They’ll be looking to make cuts.”

“If the powers that be have their way, the x-files will be on the chopping block,” Mulder concluded, rocking her gently, nuzzling her hair.

“Then what?” Scully persisted.

“We continue to search for the truth,” he replied.

Scully breathed out a chuckle, then took comfort in his embrace. Too much had been left unspoken. “Why does being closer feel like it’s taking us further apart?”

Mulder drew her in, closing the small gaps between them. “Maybe because we’re trying to hide in glass houses.”

She nodded and felt him squeeze her tighter. It was a comfort.

He whispered into the shell of her ear, “We’ve had a lot to make peace with Scully.”

Scully spoke in cautious tones. “What if you meet someone, what if you decide later that you want to have kids?”

She felt his body stiffen around her at the question. “You could do the same. There are other ways,” he answered tenderly. “If you want children, what’s stopping you?”

“The consequences of my choices?”

Mulder sighed. “I’d like to think we’ve made peace with those..”

“And the X-files?” Scully persisted, rotating in his arms so she could look into his eyes.

“You’re asking me to make a choice?”

“No, I..” she stumbled.

“Scully,” he replied softly, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “I choose you.”

Her walls melted inside his gaze. “Every choice I’ve ever made, has led me to this moment. You and I. Right here.”

“That leaves another choice to make.”

Scully passed him a wry grin. “I’ve made my choice.”

Scully closed her eyes knowing the next time they opened they would be staring into the only man she could ever imagine herself with. His lips pressed and slid against hers, warm and wet, with the grace of a trained dancer and the power of his 9 mm pistol. The removal of their clothing was clunky in their haste, forcing her to clutch his shoulder as a counterbalance. Gripping her tight, he steadied her feet. Scully’s cheeks heated when she was able to meet his eyes again. Not because of embarrassment, she would never feel that way in front of Mulder, but because of how real the moment was, the strength at its core -with honesty and purity- they would rebuild.

His eyes held that same gentle fire and connection they felt the first time they ever laughed in the rain. The soft warm glow of copper’s flame burning hazel through his irises. It’s embers igniting her heart and she knew it was time she spoke the truth aloud.

He was hers, and just as importantly, she was his. The words were on the tip of her tongue, dying to be spoken into existence. She wanted it roared into the night, well perhaps whispered in his ear, or murmured on his skin.

She chose to speak directly into his eyes. “I’m in love with you, Fox Mulder.” Her words filled with the passionate intensity of countless gamma rays bursting through the universe. And it was all for one man. Inside her arms she felt the current of her words coarse through his body. “Scully,” he released in breathy affection, the words were with the same vulnerability as when he came to her when his father was shot. “I’m yours.”

The countless hours she had stared at his lips, the way they pursed at her challenges, or curled in disgust at her autopsies, the lower jutting out slightly when he rocked his mandible forward with passion. She knew every line of those lips and every curve the way she knew the shape of her own bathtub and stain in her coffee cup. She sucked the lower one into her mouth just to feel the desire exhaled from his lungs. His tongue reached for hers and she met it with fervor, intertwining with the strength of the divine threads of space and time.

Mulder covered her body as he rolled on top. She felt safe, much the way she did as he protected her years ago from the bullets in Milford Haven. Feet and wrist bound in the gymnasium showers he had braced to give his life for her at the end of a shotgun.

He smiled at her like he was reading her thoughts and she kissed him softly, his hand tangling in hers with the same motion as when he hugged her in an empty hospital hallway, giving her promise and support that she would carry on even with her cancer sentence. Mulder had resurrected her with a chip, the one buried at the base of her neck. She wasn’t a slave to it, instead one of the many symbols of his devotion. Those thoughts caused her hand to skim the scar of her consecration inside his shoulder.

Kissing and mingling with the others’ breath, her legs naturally wrapped around his torso. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, but they were also connected in an entirely different way. They didn’t need to invade each other’s mind, they melded, their bodies flowing together, skin hot and sensitive to every touch. The passion, the need she felt, went beyond eternity. Their entire life together felt like foreplay- every time they shared a laugh, every time he cradled her in his warm embrace, or interlocked their fingers, or just stood in each other’s presence.

Grateful he didn’t prolong the sweet torture, he aligned himself and carefully pushed inside, heavy and thick, connecting on a level they had only known with the other. For long minutes, they kissed and reveled in their feelings, in the waves of sensations hitting them as he moved inside her. It was a soft and reverent kind of sharing. The type of intimacy that at one time would have made her push away to preserve her independence.. Make her skin crawl. But it didn’t with him. Possibly because his response would have been to wait until she was ready. Instead, she relished the contact, something had changed inside of her, somewhat like Mulder’s prediction as they stared at a cocoon in a tree.

Not a weakness, but a strength, she felt safe when they were like this, like nothing could ever harm them. His darkness blanketing her with comfort. Their love born from shadows.

Scully’s insides hugged him tight and they released a groan of acknowledgement. He was intrinsically home. Their pace was slow, considerate. Mulder paused and kissed her gently, his right index stroking her forehead in reverence, reminiscent of when he spoke his condolences about her father or their first case after her abduction.

Their movements were fluid and quick, languid and vividly profound. Any pieces of walls left inside her, he had shattered, saving her, the same way he battered the window to save her from a psychotic man.

She chose the path with him not from fate or destiny, not out of desperation or visions, but out of friendship, out of respect, out of devotion. Love, unadulterated and complete.

His head fell to her neck and she felt every inch of him seeping pleasure into her core and out into the galaxy. He filled her as they burst together, points of light streaming, fusing and branding them, reaching out into the heavens, creating a miracle, a mosaic of the love she no longer gave with reservation, the emergence of existence.

Read Here

Artwork By: @ms31x129

Special thanks to the following people:

@today-in-fic @wholeperson @season4mulder @peacenik0 @piper-scully @babygirlmulder1018 @patienceaintmystrongsuit @brownppr @lappina @amyg2430 @whyle23 @borogirl @kyouryokusenshi @rasta77 @schnabbaknabba @skullsmuldon @milkaforyou-blog @manila @aiko222love-blog @destinystarlit @queen-lesley @faithfirst2016 @lildd68 @writerofarticulate @itsrainingsleepingbags @edierone @annafx81 @ofmulder @kblackm @starbuck1013 @nigel5603 @baronessblixen

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heythrrdelilah · 4 years

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Lights, Camera, Love (Tom Holland x Reader) Chapter 1

A/N: So, I’ve been wanting to write for Tom for a while now, I hope all the marvel fans approve. I have incorporated some of my personal goals; like acting since I did 7+ years of theater throughout my life and my certification in Radio/film broadcasting. Also, My nursing degree im working on. So this plot may seem cheesy because of it but… oh well. Also playing off the easter egg of Gwen in endgame.

Word Count: 1,642 (the next chapters will be better and longer sorry)

Warnings/tags: Fluffish, slow beginning (sorry.... it’s been a while since I’ve written anything), friend-zone

Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader

The cold winter breeze sent chills down your spine, making you regret not taking a bigger jacket or adding a few more layers to your outfit. Today, was your first day of work as a small part in the new Marvel movie. You hadn’t known much about it, because today was the first table read for your scene. The main cast had done their table reading months ago, however, for certain scenes, the small parts come in with the main cast as needed. You knew that you had more than one line, otherwise you would be placed with the extras. When you auditioned, you didn’t have a preference for a role, which was ideal for the directors. Directors usually want to have complete creative criticism over everything. Plus, you didn’t have an agent anyways, you had just heard of the audition through an online alert you set for google. Your regular day job was a nurse, which you were thankful that the hospital gave you days off for the filming.

“ID and reason for entry please?” The guard at the gates asked you when you arrived in your 2019 yellow and black camero. You nodded, reaching for your purse. Your nerves were causing your hand to shake as you passed your ID along. “Studio 9, Marvel. I play Mikayla, a small role,” You stated with a nervous, shaky tone. He marked you down on the ipad he wielded and passed you your ID along with a parking pass. He pressed the button for the gate to open and you went through, finding your way to the studio. You parked in the assigned spot, which was shockingly close to the studio building and exited.

Nervously gripping your coffee, you walked slowly into the building. There was a security guard in the doorway, who gave you a pass and directions to the reading table. You walked slowly through the building, seeing hundreds of employees rushing around to build sets, props, costumes, lighting, and several agents on their phones. It was seven in the morning and people were already working so hard. You dodged several people rolling giant wooden boards, along with piles of paint. From upstairs, where the reading room was, you could look down to the floor and see everything from above, as the rooms and offices were all around the sides of the building, leaving the middle open. You looked for office number 24 as instructedd in the email. As you reached the windowless room and door, you knocked gently before entering. The room was warm and smelled like a coffee shop. The lights were perfectly balanced between dim and bright. The tables were set in one big circle and the only other person in the room at the moment was a small blonde with rolled up knit sleeves, placing gift baskets at every seat. “Hello! You must be (y/n)! You’re early!” She smiled, placing another basket at another seat. I waved slightly, “Good morning, yeah sorry I actually thought I was running late. Would you like some help?” You placed your coffee and purse down on the table against the wall with the coffee pots, yes...plural. You rushed over to the two carts of baskets and began placing the heavy packets on the table. You hadn't even noticed the names on the baskets either.

"I'm Clara, by the way. I'm the Mr. Whedon's assistant," She placed her dainty hand out for you to shake. She was the same height as you, but probably weighed 20 pounds less given her viable bone lines. You were careful to lightly shake her hands. You didn't want to be objective when looking at her, guessing her weight, but your previous struggle with an eating disorder left a mark on your brain when it comes to this stuff. She was pretty in the way every other shy girl who moves to LA is. Definitely stuck out in this city, Atlanta that is.

"So the director gives gift baskets to even the smallest of roles? That's super cool," You walked over to the coffee stand and took your cup. She followed, pouring herself a nesspresso. "Small roles? No. There are too many characters with less than 10 lines. Why?" She took a second before her Raven black brows lifted, "oh shit! You don't know? They told you that you didn't get mIkayla right?" Wow-what a shot to the heart! You thought to yourself. You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head. "Well, you blew everyone away and they didn’t want to waste your talent on a classmate of peter. So, they decided it was time for Gwen Stacy to head into the Avenger world,” Clara informed. You scrunch your brows together, “Wait… is this why we saw a glimpse of Gwen in Endgame? That is honestly so sick!” You couldn’t contain your excitement. Your expression grew into a big smile. You were a big marvel fan, so this job was a double dream come true. It hadn’t actually hit you that you were Gwen Stacy until you found your seat. The gift basket in front of you had a place marker attatched, like one at an office, that read “Gwen Stacy/ (y/n),” you were reading out loud. “How many acting jobs have you had before this?” Clara asked cheerily. You placed your coffee down next to the basket, “This is the first professional one.” Just as Clara was about to state something, the door opened behind her.

Walking in was the tall blonde you could never not recognize, Chris Hemsworth. Your heart skipped a beat seeing him in person. Sure, you’ve met a few small celebrities before at concerts, but never someone with so much recognition. He was wearing jeans and a baseball Tee, his hair was spiked up and his smile was plastered on his face. He looked down at Clara and gave her a friendly side hug, “Nice to see you as always.” His accent was like cutting butter. Smooth and pleasing. She smiled up at him before motioning to the coffee. “As always, same to you. The coffee is set up and this film’s gift baskets are an assortment of pastries. Yes, this means apple fritters,” she smiled, pointing to his seat. You were frozen at your chair, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. “Oh I’m not the first one? This is different!” He began walking over to your direction. You found the courage to stand up, smoothening out the wrinkles in your shirt during the process. “Hi, I’m (y/n). I am apparently playing Gwen Stacy,” You placed your hand for him to shake. He towered over you, as you were pretty short. His firm grip on your heand suddenly calmed you, “i’m Chris. Nervous? I heard this was your first film?” You nodded slowly. This was just another person. Celebrities are people and you would just have to think that when everyone else walked through the door. “It’s so funny, I thought I had a small part, but Clara informed me otherwise just this morning. I thought you had all table read months ago,” You blabbed, taking a sip from your coffee. He chuckled, “They probably meant for it to be a surprise,” He spoke loud enough for Clara to hear that last part, “We read earlier than the small roles, but that doesn’t start until today.” You nodded smiling. This had to of been a dream. “Gwen stacy isn’t even an avenger though and-” Chris cut you off, placing his hand on your shoulder, “It’s the film industry. Nothing has to be accurate. Just accept it and welcome.” Chris walked over to his chair a few down from you, already opening his bag, placing the name card visible to the center of the circle. You placed yours in the same fashion. Shortly after, the door opened once more. Tom Holland walked through sporting a hoodie and jeans. When he looked up from his phone, he greeted Clara and Chris first, before finding his seat beside you. He turned to you, “You must be our Gwen? Im Tom.” He placed his hand out for you to shake, which you kindly did. He was much more handsome in person, in fact, it made your stomach knot up just looking at him. After introducing yourself, you removed the gift basket from the top of the table and placed it beside you, just as the other two had.

“First table read?” He asked, his british accent melting your heart. You nod slowly, “Yeah. I am honestly afraid I’ll be laughed out of the room by the end of the day.” You finished the last gulp of your coffee and pushed your chair back to stand up and walk over to the coffee station. Tom followed, to your surprise. “Listen, Can I tell you a secret?” He asked in a hushed tone, grabbing a glass mug from the table, giving you one after he tossed the paper cup into the trash. You nodded, “If they put you in a role higher than what you auditioned for, you must be good. I highly doubt you will be laughed out of the room.” Your face burned red as his kind words actually sunk into your mind. You shook your head. You had to be professional. These were the people you were going to see every day for a good year. No way could you be blushing at every Avenger walking through the door just trying to create a friendly environment.

“In fact, if you are laughed out of the room, I will walk out with you. Losing both of us. If not… you have to hang out with us after the table read? We all planned on going out for pasta. You aren’t one of those carbphobic ladies are you?” He asked, nudging you slightly. Friendly.

Return to Tom Holland/ Peter Parker Masterlist

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cookiedoughmeagain · 3 years

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Haven DVD Commentaries: 5.16 - The Trial of Nathan Wuornos

Commentary with Speed Weed (writer for the episode) and Adam Higgs (writer for 5.15)

SW: This was really a two-parter. We tried to make these not look like two-parters, but they were. AH: And this season became even more serialised than 5A, which was pretty chocablock. SW: Yeah, well we’re heading towards the end, wrapping things up.

[*Flashback on screen to Duke’s eyes turning black*] SW: We talked a lot about what colour Duke’s eyes should be. AH: And the pupils; shark eyes, no pupils … red, black, white.

SW: So really, right from the start, we felt it a little bit ourselves but we get a lot of shellacking from a certain core of fans who feel that we don’t give Nathan his due. And, we love Nathan as a character, and this episode was really meant to highlight all the heroism that he has done for the town over five seasons. And, we thought we would put him on trial. AH: It was a great idea. I remember we went back and forth on how much of a trial it would be, and what would the trial look like. SW: Right. And at the time I was listening to a lecture, during my commute in the car, on ancient Greek democracy. So it sort of got based on that. AH: And that’s a good touchstone for this episode; democracy. Who is allowed to make decisions in this new world order?

[*Demands on screen for Nathan to be banished*] AH: We put Dwight between a rock and a hard place here, and he did a really good job with that. SW: Yeah, and Tony’s right - Dwight in 5.15 banished a guy for doing less.

[*Audrey on screen: We need to put Nathan on trial*] AH: Remember, she is an FBI agent. SW: We’d sort of forgotten that for a bunch of seasons. And speaking of FBI agents, we tried so hard to bring Fraudrey back. We never found a way. That’s a regret. AH: We tried. Fraudrey fans, we tried. SW: We did.

[*Dwight on screen telling Haven they need to come up with a legal process for Nathan*] SW: We’re supposed to be commenting. I’m just enjoying Adam’s performance. He did a great job. AH: You wrote a good speech for him there. SW: Ah, he makes it good.

[*Vince on screen: I’m unclear, is this a stalling tactic or the rebirth of democracy?] SW: *laughing* Vince can’t imagine something straight up, can he?

[As we see Duke and Hailie in Halifax] AH: So again, these scenes were shot a long time after the rest of the episode. SW: What happened to the truck? Did they shoot these scenes out of order? AH: I think they did. So, he traded in the truck because it was hot and he didn’t want to be caught. SW: And because we have product placement with Toyota maybe. [The car they just got out of is a Toyota] and the truck was a Ford as I recall. But that’s not a new Toyota, I don’t know if we got any money for that. [*Duke to Hailie: When I almost hit you with the car, what were you thinking about? Was there anything else in your world or just the car?] SW: Yeah and it was a truck [not a car] - I think they shot these scenes out of order. AH: Yeah and it was two different units too, so the continuity process might not have coped SW: And it might have been two different directors as well I can’t remember exactly who shot what.

[*Vince and Dave addressing the school*] AH: You did a great job with this PA system. I remember when you were trying to figure out exactly how to do this - I thought it was brilliant. It’s one of those things sometimes when your hands are tied (where it has to all be in the school) you can come up with really clever execution. SW: This is true by the way, history fans; the prosecutor in ancient Athenian trials offered what he thought the punishement should be. The prosecutor proposed a punishment and the defence also proposed a punishment if found guilty. It was a way of getting some moderation. Because the jury could only choose between the two options, so if the prosecutor over reached, you could get off with a light sentence.

[*Tony talking about Nathan’s previous ‘crimes’ eg stopping Duke leaving town] SW: And so we were trying to make the trial about everything, to let Nathan justify himself for the series AH: Yeah and prove that he’s that hero. Because he really is. I do think these episodes really kicked it off for this season in which he has a strong heroic arc. SW: Yep. AH: And we talked a lot about that near the end of the season when it came down to, everybody else seems pre-destined and he’s the everyman. SW: Yes, he’s the everyman. He’s the only guy with no supernatural fate.

[*Audrey talking about wanting to stop the trial*] AH: And this was nice. I remember when we were breaking this one of the things you were talking about was flipping the usual paradigm of Nathan doing everything in his power to save Audrey - now Audrey’s doing everything in her power to save Nathan. SW: Right.

SW: We haven’t got any character payments yet, have we? Wouldn’t it be nice if we got Trouble payments. AH: Oh my goodness. We put so many Troubles in this episode. SW: So, by guild rules when you introduce a new character in a series, when you’re the first writer to write that character, you’re defining that character and so - it’s really nominal, but you get a payment for the creation of that character, when they appear in future episodes. So by gentleman’s agreement Adam and I have agreed to split them on the ones we two-parted; we haven’t gotten those yet. We’re in a fight [presumably a good natured one] with Nick Parker about who introduced Charlotte. Because she actually appears right at the end of episode 8, and it’s a question of how many lines she has, or how substantial they are I think is the actual question. And just to be clear - we’re talking about, maybe enough money for a dinner out. AH: Yeah, nothing more than that. It’s more the fun of it than anything.

[*As Hailie realises she’s cut her heel*] AH: I thought this was a great moment you put in here of Duke, you know … SW: Worried about the blood touching him? AH: You can’t escape your past, is his whole story line here SW: Right. AH: And he’s just trying, so desperately.

[*Audrey telling Peggy that her husband Rolf is dead*] SW: Jennifer Morris does a good job here - this is thankless for an actor. To go to the most emotionally difficult place you could possibly imagine, without any ramp up - the scene just starts on it. Thankless. Good work. You try not to write things that way because it’s just too much; you’re not going to get a good performance out of it. You try to cut out of a scene on telling the bad news and then cut back in when the character’s had ten minutes to digest it.

[*Vince, Dave and Nathan arguing about whether they can let the trial carry on or whether they can stop it*] AH: There’s some great tension - here you are in a classroom and yet the stakes are so high. SW: Yeah, number two on the call sheet and his life’s on the line.

[*Kira trapped underground with her fluorescent tube*] SW: I think this looks really cool, that she’s lighting that thing with her Trouble. But what was the Adam’s Family reference that Matt was worried about? AH: Oh, he was worried it was going to look like Uncle Fester who could put a lightbulb in his mouth and light it up. SW: Right. I don’t see Uncle Fester in that. AH: Yeah I don’t see it at all.

[Charlotte: I lost my husband to it] AH: And that was a big reveal SW: That was a big moment. AH: I’m so interested - we haven’t seen these episodes air yet and seen the reactions, so I’m so interested to see what people will make of this. Putting their thinking caps on trying to deduce who’s the husband.

[*Tony spinning tales about Nathan to the school*] AH: And you did a really good job here with Tony of not making him arch. And making him formidable. SW: Well Paul [in the role] did a great job with that too, he really threaded the needle on it. And actually, props as well to Rick, our director, who helped get him there.

[*Audrey threatening to set fire to the school to disrupt the trial*] SW: They did a great job with this. This switch where he’s calm and cool and she’s, you know … Thinking of the end of season three where Nathan shoots Howard; he’s willing to do anything. And now she’s willing to do anything to save her one true love. AH: I think it’s nice. I think it really shows how much they care for each other and that the relationship is growing. And the characters are growing too.

SW: And here’s Faber Haskins. AH: This was cool. This was one of the worst bad guys we’ve had on this show. Because usually on this show people with Troubles are conflicted; they don’t have malice in their hearts. But this guy is just … SW: And props to the actor, he did a great job. Oh wow I like the nose ring. It’s funny, I’ve seen this cut before but he delivered a really good audition so I remember that (when he didn’t have the nose ring)

[*As Faber shows us the pile of bodies*] SW: Oh yeah, jeez wow. Remember when we had to review pictures of the props for that? AH: Yeah we talked about what would the bones look like, how fresh … SW: How much meat should be left on them. Oh my god, only on this show

SW: So Grayson, we auditioned a bunch of Graysons, many of whom were very good - and they had to actually really truly sign, but also talk because in episode 17, he is no longer deaf, he actually talks. So getting someone who can act, sign and talk is rarer than you might think. And we auditioned a bunch of people and low and behold, seeing that Grayson appears in episode 17 which is directed by Lucas Bryant, he said; I have a friend in LA who can do all those things and he’s a good actor. And he delivered a great tape. And at this point in the show, and especially given what a great job Lucas did directing 17 … [*as Grayson sets off his Trouble*] ...That’s another cheap Trouble to produce, sound is cheap, shaky cameras are cheap ... um, anyway what I wanted to say is I’m really glad we cast him and really glad Lucas nominated him. I just remember that there’s always that slight nervousness you get when somebody on the show, who isn’t a producer, nominates someone for a role. Not because you expect them to be worse than normal, but because if they are, then you have to tell someone who you respect, that you can’t cast them. So it was really great that Lucas nominated the best person for the role and we cast him. AH: And another thing we should mention is that Emily Rose does know American Sign Language. SW: Oh yes! She does. AH: And she’s an ambassador I believe for them, in some way. So that’s one of the reasons we wanted to, you know, utilise some of the skills that our actors have.

[*Duke and Hailie about to rob a bank*] AH: It’s nice that Halifax is actually Halifax. SW: Yeah, how often does Halifax actually get played for Halifax. AH: Very seldom. It does look like our ferns though. SW: Yes and I think it’s our signs too. AH: That’s a cheap effect [as Hailie disappears into the wall] but it looks well done.

[*Nathan to Audrey: You’re stealing my line now? When you went into the Barn, I was willing to risk anything to keep you with me while you faced your fate head-on.] SW: Props to our show runner Gabrielle Stanton who, as we were breaking this story, pointed out that that was what the flip was, and then we throttled into it. I hadn’t quite realised but then she pointed out that we were doing the opposite of what had been done before. So then we wrote to it, which was cool. AH: It’s neat because we continue to pay off on that decision he made about the Barn later in other episodes SW: Yeah. All of season four was about it, in a way. But oh yeah also later episodes in this season.

AH: One of the things I liked about these episodes was everyone had something to do. Everybody had something incredibly important to take care of. SW: Yeah the stakes are high. We’re just throttlin up stakes all the way.

[*As the poltergeist Trouble shuts Dwight and Charlotte in the dark.] AH: This was nice to have what seems like an innocent Trouble

AH: I like this relationship [Audrey and Grayson] SW: Yeah and Shernold really runs with it in 17. Look for Shernold’s name on other shows to come. She next appears on a show that has stolen rampantly from us … AH: *laughing* SW: … whether they know it or not [imdb would seem to indicate that her next job after Haven was Sleepy Hollow]

SW: I’m just so impressed with Lucas’s work in this episode. These two episodes, because as he was shooting these two episodes he was prepping 17 as a director. And when you see 17, if you have a directorial eye, you will see it is really, really planned. He knew what he was doing, and he brings some real beauty and attention and design and precision to the show. Which means he was working his butt off. AH: Yeah. And we tried to give him some time off to prep, but at the same time - he’s number two on the call sheet. SW: Well and 16 is his episode in a way.

[*As Tony’s Trouble starts to ramp up*] SW: This was thankless. To make one room get darker from the outside in. My apologies to Rick [the director], Jennifer Stewart our production designer, Eric Cayla our DP - you all did great. This was not easy. Very hard to pull off AH: Yeah because it wasn’t smoky or inky or anything, it was just dark. And it’s a good twist here that Tony the prosecutor is actually responsible. SW: When it comes down to it, about half the Troubles are about denial.

[*Dwight trying to break out of the shed*] AH: The silence says so much here. SW: And this was important to us in the room. Because, Dwight broke some relationships at the end of season 5A to believe in Charlotte’s science. So we really wanted to make sure that it actually meant something in the end, so her reveal wasn’t just a betrayal of their romantic relationship, it was also a betrayal of the cure that he believed in. AH: And he’s invested so much.

AH: Oh and here’s Nathan’s speech. And the intercut here [between the speech and Audrey talking down Tony] worked really well. SW: It’s nifty to write quite a long monologue for a character who never talks. AH: Yeah, he’s so quiet. SW: I love that line in the first season where Audrey says something about how his clipped sentences … I can’t think of the exact line, but. AH: Yeah it’s a clever line but [can’t remember it either] SW: And I thought about Eric Taylor in Friday Night Lights, writing this. AH: That’s a good touchstone because it’s another very quiet person who needs to give those big motivational speeches. SW: Right. To a community. AH: And again I just love the intercut here [to Dwight and Charlotte] of how all the stories come together. It’s well designed. SW: Smooch! Don’t you want them [Dwight and Charlotte] to smooch? And we had five seconds of screen darkness there, that’s great. And we had the five seconds of silence earlier. Things you’re not supposed to do. AH: But it worked so well.

[*As Charlotte looks through the wooden slats to the space beyond filled with aether*] SW: It was Rick’s idea how to shoot this which was really cool, with this VFX shot to get a huge amount of aether. It was scripted as a ‘stadium sized cavern’ full of aether, and there you get the idea that there’s just insane amounts of it. AH: Yeah wow, that was well shot.

[*As Hailie reappears out of the bank with the money*] SW: We originally wanted to do this on a yacht, where she actually phased through the side of the hull. But it didn’t work for locations. AH: I love that, just as you wrote it with the blood spatter on Duke’s face. He’s got no choice in the matter again. SW: Shark eyes. [Hailie to Duke: What are you doing?] SW: Resisting the urge to kill you.

[*As Audrey asks Tony where he got the info in his notebook*] AH: It was so interesting to work on this story line with the notebook because we had set some of this up in 5 and 6 and there was so much being planted there that doesn’t really come out until 10 episodes later; by the time they air it’ll be over a year later.

[Vince; And the verdict is … *Kira returns*] AH: How can he be guilty of killing someone if she’s still alive? SW: The best of TV timing.

[Dwight to Nathan: That’s a hell of a lot of aether you found] AH: He’s vindicated in so many ways.

[*Hailie running from Duke and into the shipping container*] SW: She was supposed to have the money with her in this scene, but for some reason she doesn’t so we had to write around it. AH: Yeah she didn’t have it any more SW: Ooops.

SW: I can’t remember how we did Duke’s black eyes - was it totally VFX or did we go with contacts? AH: VFX. We wanted to go with contacts, and Eric wanted to use contacts, but we just decided it would be easier to go with VFX.

[*Dwight and Charlotte sharing milk and cookies*] AH Oh I love this scene! This was one of my favourites. It’s their night under the stars romantic dinner - with milk cartons. SW: At the last minute they cut the line that I really liked. Charlotte says ‘I like your hand’ and then would have said ‘There’s a lot I’d like to do with it.’ But they cut it - we were just getting too randy in the writer’s room AH: I think we need an uncut edition SW: That’s right - a writer’s cut.

AH: In the original break, before we knew what the next episode was going to be, you had a great turn at the end of the episode where Nathan would be found guilty. But that did not line up with the next episode.

#haven syfy #haven dvd commentaries #haven 5 #5.16 - the trial of nathan wuornos

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cjvazmovielife · 5 years

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Not Crossing The Line.

Life, emotions, moral compasses, and maturity can all be fickle. We expect to become more mature, and more in touch with the meaning of life. Our assumption is that we grow wiser as we get older. Though that's not always the case. In this particular story getting older and less wise is the primary focus. As well as knowing when not to cross the wrong line.

Obviously, with the “Me Too” movement being so prevalent, anyone that reads this should be well aware of certain secrets Hollywood hides. The infamous casting couch being one of it's darkest. Female, and even some males actors having to do more than just read lines in order to get a role. It's been assumed to be happening for years. They've made movies about it. Comedians have joked about it. Former actors have spoken out about it. Even Porn Companies have made videos about it.

The infamous 'casting couch' has been a dark stain on the industry. People abusing their power to take advantage of someone vulnerable is truly sickening. It's difficult for me to even talk about this because I'm not talent, and I've never experienced it first hand. I have friends that have. I've worked with both female and male actors that have. I know some that have said no, and more that have said yes. I don't blame them, I blame those that put them in that position.

To be clear, I do believe in personal responsibility and what an adult chooses to do in the end is their choice. That being said, people in vulnerable states shouldn't be preyed on. Those that have power shouldn't abuse it. There's really nothing else to say about it, other than it's wrong to take advantage of people, especially ones that are vulnerable. I've always made that argument, and I've always received mixed responses. "Personal responsibility," "it's their choice," "the could have walked away if they wanted to," "they could have said no," "they just wanted to be famous and get that easy cash," seems to fall on one side of the argument. While "they were vulnerable," "they hit rock bottom," "they were desperate," "they were going through a lot," "this person preyed on them," seems to fall on the other side. It's not my job to make up your mind one way or another, I just think it's wrong to prey on people. It's the classic Hollywood story. Works for both female and male actors.

'They came out to LA to follow their dreams of being in show business. They got here with stars in their eyes. Did the typical tourist attractions, Walk of Fame, Celebrity tours, Universal, and Rodeo drive. They found auditions they could get into, agents that were willing to take a meeting, and paid a lot for acting classes that were worth far less. They were ready to give it their all to be in a movie or a tv show. The went to every audition with the hope that would be the one. The prepared meticulously for it, memorizing every line, so it was second nature. Even after the first 20 rejections, they were still firm they were going to make it.

Then the 40th rejection went by, and they start questioning their resolve. Then more rejections come. The number of rejections gets so large it's like NBA players scoring. They basically go from 0 to 100, in the blink of an eye. Their minimum wage job is life draining. Their desire to keep going is wavering at best. Their acting classes, headshots, resumes and so on are draining them. Running out of money, problems with their car and about to be evicted, they start to panic. They don't want to go back home like a failure. It scares them to even consider it. Then magically the phone rings as if someone was watching over them and knew they were desperate for a helping hand.

On the phone, it's an agent, or a manager, or a casting director, or a producer, or director, or even a writer. In reality, it could be anyone doing any job, and as long as they have a little bit of power they could abuse it. So there's a role that they'd be perfect for, and they want them to come down and audition. Lucky them, right! They are excited, they are thankful, they are feeling good, and they know this is it. This is how all those other stars did it. They were one foot out the door, headed back home, and then the phone rang. Their life-changing role right there in front of them.

They get to the audition, and this is where things differ a little depending on how brazen the predator is. It could be a general audition with multiple people casting and multiple people auditioning, then a private conversation afterward with the predator. Though in the more bold ones it seems to be just them and the predator. Their surprise that there's no one around is usually followed by the predator saying there was no need as they were the only one that was wanted for that role. The predator may have a specific example of something they've seen the actor in, though usually, they will just reference a previous audition (someone mysteriously sent them) while never giving specifics.

Then, maybe there are lines (sides) involved. They may be asked to read this real quick so that the predator "can be sure" the actor has what it takes, and their previous (audition video or job) wasn't a fluke. Then sometimes it's as direct as that predator saying "how badly do you want this part?" More often is as indirect as the predator saying "listen, I want you, I think you are perfect for this role but I'm up against the wall with (insert whoever here), and if I'm going to risk everything for you, then it needs to be worth it for me." There is usually a problem, the predator is the only one that can fix it, but they need the actor to prove they are worth the risk, and that's how the scam goes.'

What happens after that is entirely determined on a person's goals, desires, attitude, self-worth, and vulnerability. If they are at that point where nothing else matters, they are at rock bottom, and they will do anything to succeed then more often they will fall for the predator's trap. If their self-worth is high enough to walk away, then they will. There are many that do walk away, and there are many don't. Neither one is wrong, only the predator is in the wrong.

That story doesn't only apply to the Film World. It covers every business, schools, the military, government, and even charities. When the wrong people are in special positions of power, and/or trust they will abuse it. Someone that is vulnerable stressed out, and just seeking a tiny bit of help or guidance shouldn't preyed upon by a predator. Especially not by a predator older than their parents and entrusted to help the family.

I've heard several stories from the film world, but I have seen with my own eyes one in particular that still gets to me. You never really know who is a predator and who isn't. People will surprise you, and sometimes it's heartbreaking. I knew someone that I held in high esteem, and I trusted them dearly like family. When I witnessed their attempts to prey upon an innocent person, someone vulnerable, in need of help, and guidance, that made me lose all respect for them. I lost all trust in them, and not just because of what they did, but also because they had a family at home.

I spoke about it, and I turned them into the people of that particular group. The hope was that if they were out of the position of power and trust the group gave them, they could no longer use that to prey upon vulnerable people. I'm being vague about this person, and I don't feel I should be. Even though I spoke publicly about this before, being vague here I feel like I'm taking it easy on a predator. The only positives I can take away from that experience are that they weren't able to prey upon the person, as that person had strong self-worth to walk away, and myself witnessing it, I was able to inform the right people so they would be removed from the group. I also took the liberty of informing similar groups of that particular person, in the hopes that if they try to get involved they would know what really happened previously.

I don't even know if that last paragraph made sense or not. Basically, I saw a predator, I turned the predator in and informed future organizations that the person is a predator. People like that should be kept away from power and positions of trust. As time goes forward we hope that movements like the "me too" continue to bring light into these stains on society. Maybe one day it will end. Maybe one-day people would concentrate solely on being good, versus what benefit they can get for themselves.

I'll talk about chase scene filmmaking another night.

#setlife #movies #me too movement #predator #prey #filmmaker #hollywood #filmmaking #abuse #castingcouch

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kashmiresims · 6 years

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Road to Success

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Why did she still have heels on? If Leona weren't sitting on Edric King's tour bus she would have already have kicked them off, but she was new and didn't want to be seen as the weird girl who didn't wear shoes in public. She had been introduced to the rest of the band, the roadies and other assorted personnel that traveled with them, but still didn't feel comfortable with possibly exposing them to the smell of her feet. She felt the painful pinch on her toes and could only put on a smile of fake attentiveness as Luke sat next to her and tried to make small talk.

It was hard enough to concentrate on what he was talking about with the previously mentioned unpleasantness, but then there were other distractions such as the in-bus television that was on though no one seemed to be watching. One of the guitar players was strumming out the intro to one of Edric's songs repeatedly without finishing, while she could hear Caroline and the girl in charge of Edric's wardrobe discussing fashion from the other side of Luke. Through the opposite ear, she could overhear a lewd string of conversation between Edric himself and another band member that was followed by uproarious laughter.

"So now that you have another concert under your belt, do you feel more at ease performing in front of such big crowds?" Luke asked.

Leona's concentration moved from the feeling in her feet and the noise around her towards the band manager, "Why do you ask?"

They had left West Clayton a few hours ago and were already on their way to the next city on the tour—taking her even further away from her home region.

Luke propped his elbow onto the back of the seat and leaned into it while giving her a studied look, "Edric mentioned that you seemed nervous before going on stage tonight—"

Leona felt a prick of annoyance at Edric, which was unfortunately not uncommon in the few days since they had been introduced. Who was he to make assumptions about her and then blab to others about it? She shifted her sitting position, pulling her legs underneath her and leaned over to peer down at Edric with a frown.

"Hey!" She snapped and pointed at him, "I wasn't nervous at the last concert!"

Edric had his legs crossed and propped up on the small dinette table with his hands behind his head. He gave a lazy little smile in response, "You were tapping your foot so fast I thought you'd bust out in a tap dance. Isn't it a nervous tick?"

Leona gave an indignant huff, "It's not. I was getting my feet accustomed to these high heels. You'd be tapping your foot too if you had to wedge your toes together like that."

"Take them off if they brother you so much," Edric suggested.

"Don't tell me what to do," Leona retorted and turned her back on him, returning her attention to the band manager. Anything was better than being forced to talk with Edric. "Anyway, despite what Edric says—I'm at ease whenever I perform in public. I've been doing this since I was in high school."

"Yes, Naomi and I discussed your singing accomplishments—you came in first for the regional Battle of the Bands when you were just sixteen. Then went on to play for a few local gigs after that. Your band separated shortly after you entered Sim State University—why was that again?"

Leona didn't realize Luke knew so much about her but she supposed it made sense when her agent submitted an audition tape. He'd had to vet her thoroughly if she was to sing and travel with someone as famous as Edric King. But if that was true, then he should have had a good idea of why her band had separated. What did he want her to say that he didn't already glean from her agent? Did he suspect she had anything to do with the reason her band was no longer playing? She had to set the record straight if that was the case!

"My bandmates, they..." Leona began to say and was forced to think of Alarie and Illyana—about how they thought that she was so obsessed with her dream that she'd resort to sleeping her way to make it come true and with Edric no less! The nerve! It still hurt her that was how she was perceived but she would prevail and show them she could succeed in her own way. "They went in different directions, it was hard to schedule gigs and practices so I thought it best to strike off on my own."

Luke nodded with sympathetic understanding.

What she didn't tell him was how much Alarie liked to drink and party once she entered college and that resulted in her blowing off band practice a majority of the time, or how Illyana got her first serious boyfriend at age 18 and suddenly all her free time was spent with him instead of writing new music. Leona couldn't keep it all up by herself and besides, her so-called 'friends' never wanted the fame as she did. The Raven Crowns dissolved, leaving Leona pursuing music as a solo artist.

"Hey, Miss Arithmetic!" She heard her new nickname shouted from below. She peeked over and frowned, non-verbally indicating that she disliked it, but giving him her attention nonetheless.

Edric had gotten up from where he was lounging, most likely to stretch his legs after sitting the past few hours. He swayed slightly with the movement of the vehicle as he held his balance on a hand rail, "You're awfully cranky. You should get some beauty rest as soon as we get to Mesa Flats."

Leona shot up and the movement caught the attention of nearly everyone in the small space. The strums of the guitar and the chatter all stopped; the only noise left was a commercial from the television.

"Maybe I wouldn't be so cranky if you called me by my actual name," she made her way down the few steps from the elevated seating area to face him head on, "Maybe I wouldn't be so cranky if—"

"If you weren't wearing high heels?" Edric suggested and crossed his arms.

Leona clamped her hands to her hips and glowered at his interruption, starting again, "Maybe I wouldn't be so cranky if the guy I'm singing for didn't cut me off when I speak and steal my hotel key cards."

Instead of looking ashamed or embarrassed for being called out, he just seemed mildly perplexed, "You're still mad about that? That was so long ago."

She threw her arms down, "It was less that 48 hours ago!"

"You need to stop living in the past."

"Stop it, both of you," Luke's clear, annoyed voice split through the tension. They looked to him and saw him holding the side of his head with an exasperated expression, as if he'd developed a headache--as if he were dealing with children. Leona was taken aback, because it wasn't fair that she was being chided when Edric had started it!

"But—"

"Everyone on this bus is a team," Luke declared as he swept his gaze around the immediate vicinity and stood, "We will be in each other's company for many weeks to come, will be working long hours practicing and traveling with little sleep to pull off successful shows. That chance of success goes down every time an unkind comment, or a petty disagreement surfaces."

He looked back to Leona and Edric, at the middle of it all, and narrowed his eyes, "So be nice to each other."

Leona felt her breath build up in her cheeks with frustration before letting it out in a stream of air; she hadn't been mean to Edric at all! He had baited her ire by acting like an arrogant man-child and if no one called him out for it, then he would never stop.

She opened her mouth to protest once more but Luke held up his finger, "Miss Hillenburg," he seemed to sigh and speak in a lowered tone, "Please, remember that you are not the person people are paying to see at these shows."

He didn't have to say anything else, because that particular string of words was threat enough. The team-talk that Luke had just spewed was cheap; everyone knew Edric was the star. Everyone on that bus would have to deal with his antics or risk being fired. She turned an eye to Edric who just smirked knowingly.

Leona threw Edric a disgusted look that told him she wasn’t going to be complacent in his asshattery. She did drop it though because she wasn’t in a mood to be further lectured by Luke; she felt a growing weight in her chest because she had signed onto this voluntarily, not knowing the type of person she was working with, but too stubborn to quit it now that she had her foot in the door.

She grabbed her cell phone that had been charging by connection to one of the outlets in the bus, and made her way to the back of the bus to the lavatory that was currently unoccupied. She locked the door and took a lean against the wall--her frustrations finally crowded into her expression as sadness. She turned her head and looked at her reflection in the mirror above the lavatory sink. She looked awesome, just having come from a concert, fully made up but her face didn’t match all that glamourous fun.

She had to tough it out. There was no other choice—she had signed a contract. She unlocked her phone and found a string of missed calls from her father.

He was the first person she called when her phone recharged after Pandora. He was suspicious of the quick process that had roped her into touring. Leona tried to explain and, in the end, told him to call Naomi if he had any questions. He just worried too much. She did smile for a moment thinking that at least she didn’t get married in Pandora like he originally feared—ridiculous as it was.

Before her father’s barrage of calls, there was a missed call from Antoine. Leona stood straighter as it caught her eye. She hadn’t gotten a call from her ex for over a year and must have missed it when she was rushing about for the West Clayton concert. There was no voice mail.

Leona moved to sit on the toilet—not because she actually had to go but her feet were hurting again. She did end up kicking off the shoes and tried to ignore her urge to cringe at realizing her bare feet were on the bus lavatory floor. Antoine was a good enough distraction.

Her phone read 11:30 p.m. and she weighed in her mind if that was too late to return a call. It was a week night...but Antoine had said he took the week off from work. She wondered if he had gone searching for an apartment yet. She decided, it wouldn’t hurt to try and besides, she missed his voice.

“Songbird, you finally returning my calls?” his deep, rich, baritone greeted her and that prick of frustration she had just felt immediately lessened.

“I’m sorry, things just got a bit hectic and my phone wasn’t charged,” she apologized but couldn’t help but to smile because she could tell he was anything but angry. Antoine was very laid back and there always seemed to be some kind of humor on the edge of his voice.

“So, I hear you’re now touring, that must be an experience. They’re not working you too hard, are they?”

She thought of Edric and snapped, “More like working my last nerve.”

“Uh oh.”

“It’ll be okay...I guess, I just thought it would be easier,” she explained, thinking of how she didn’t anticipate not getting along with those she worked with. She had always seemed to pretty good in that department.

“The road to success never is. You know as well as anyone you have to work hard for it. It may even mean you have to give up friends and relationships to achieve it.”

She didn’t have to be reminded. She had already given up Antoine once so he could chase his dreams and he was forever closer to achieving them because he didn’t have Leona to drag him down. He would deny it of course, claiming he could have kept dating her and doing his work but maybe, she was also shielding herself from the inevitable heartbreak of him choosing his job over her. Not to mention, even if that had worked out, she would have still been distracted from her own goals.

His words also reminded her of her two closest friends. The girls had been close for a very long time but those times weren’t perfect—once and a while they hit a bump in the road, occasionally a big bump and it never helped that Leona was as steadfast, Alarie was quick to judge, and Illyana held onto grudges like a vice. Leona didn’t want to give up any of her relationships with those she loved but then again, those she loved didn’t make it easy either.

Love was work.

“I sincerely hope I don’t have to,” she sighed and closed her eyes, feeling tired. It had been such a long day, “By the way—I hope you aren’t mad that I can’t come look at apartments with you.”

“Not mad, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. I can’t begrudge you too much, you got what you wanted—a contract to sing, and with someone quite famous at that,” he replied and she hated that she disappointed him of all things; he was still good enough not to make a big deal out of it, though that edge of humor always in his tone vanished, “Besides, ‘Lanna came hunting with me and I’ve already picked a place out—moving my stuff in early tomorrow.”

“That’s great! What’s the place like?”

“One bedroom, one bath—it has raised ceilings and a terrace. It’s right next to the park so lots of trees and shade.”

She knew she couldn’t have her cake and eat it too but she really wished she could have been there, to experience it and him to herself. She wondered if she would ever wake up in his arms again, “Sounds amazing, I can’t wait to see it.”

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know, I'm locked into the contract for four years—surly we ‘d meet up before then. I’ll have to ask the manager about time off and scheduling—” she began to ramble but got cut off by his voice which seemed, now, just as tired as she was.

“Sounds like your time is a premium now. Anyway, I got to go, I have an early day of moving stuff. Just please...if you can manage, answer my calls—because I will call and keep calling until you tell me not to. I’m your biggest fan, Songbird. Don’t forget it. Goodnight.”

His new, melancholy tone, didn’t escape her notice and she felt the same sensation encompass her at his parting words. She would love to stay up late like she did in high school, waiting for Antoine to call her so she could pick up quickly and not have her father become suspicious. However, with her new career, she knew it was pure optimism to think they could ever be like they were, again.

#ts2 #sims 2 #NOV arc #kashmiresims #sims 2 story #my shots

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ranwing · 7 years

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Kadam Fic: Just Breathe (11/12)

Title: Just Breathe Series: Season Four Remix Pairing(s), Characters(s): Kadam, Kurt Hummel, Adam Crawford, Burt Hummel, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Camen Tibideaux, Cassandra July, Blaine Anderson, Sam Evans, Adam’s Apples, Original Characters Rating: PG13 (Rating may change) Genre(s): canon divergence, major lol Klaine and Blaine. Parts: 11/12

Summary: Auditions mean new challenges for Kurt and those around him, forcing him to face both his past and his future.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten

On AO3

The final weeks of the spring semester arrived inauspiciously, deceptive in its air of normalcy. But all too quickly the realities of what the students of NYADA would be facing became apparent and promised to be as insane as Kurt and Rachel had feared. All of their instructors suddenly seemed determined to test how long it would take to break them with the steady escalation of their already difficult demands. Rather than easing into the end of the semester, the pressure was ramped up to levels that neither of them had ever experienced before. Kurt looked over his test schedule in horror when he realized that in a two week period, he would have to survive not only his dance, voice and acting critiques, but all of his written exams as well.

Rachel’s eyes widened in horror when she reviewed her own schedule. “This is impossible,” she moaned. “How do I have my second day of dance on the same day as my theory exam?”

“We’re in the same boat. I’ve got three written tests in one day,” Kurt complained, resigning himself to his fate. “I think we can say goodbye to our free time for the foreseeable future.”

Rachel nodded, giving a small huff of frustration. “And forget about sleep.”

Kurt sighed, offering her a reassuring smile. “We’d be dealing with this no matter where we went to school,” he reminded his friend. “We’ll get through this. This is just us showing what we know we can do.”

Rachel nodded, resigned to her fate. “For you, maybe,” she granted. “But I’m not exactly the teachers’ favorite anymore and they’re going to be looking for me to fail.”

She sighed, looking over her schedule again. “That’s totally my fault. I really screwed myself.”

Kurt wouldn’t insult his friend by trying to disagree with her on that point. Her behavior the past few months had burned through what leniency she could have expected from her teachers. “You’re always your best when you’ve got something to prove,” he asserted. “I think you’re going to surprise a lot of people.”

Rachel looked up at him with a gratified smile, thankful to have his support. “I just wish that I wasn’t so stupid to let it get to this point,” she said repentantly. “But I have no one to blame by myself.”

Kurt knew that trying to deny what both of them knew was the reality that she was facing. If he was completely honest, seeing his friend so completely accepting of her responsibility for her current situation took him a bit by surprise. As did her determination to prove that she did deserve her spot at NYADA. If there was one thing that Kurt knew about his friend was that if she put her mind to something, there was little that could stand in her way.

He took her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re going to get through this,” he promised.

* * *

While they might not seem quite as harried as the younger students, the seniors facing graduation didn’t have it any easier than their younger counterparts did. Senior projects and presentations were all but finished, and the reality of facing life outside the safety of their school was truly starting to sink in as graduation day rapidly approached. Fears about finding gainful employment in one of the most competitive industries imaginable was starting to wear on even the most confident of them.

Adam knew that he was more fortunate than most. With the course of study he’d pursued, he had the potential to find work both on and off the stage. His preference would certainly be to find a job as a performer, but if there were no roles forthcoming he knew that he would be able to find a job on the production side of things. Less glamorous, perhaps, but it would allow him to pay his rent and give him time to build his acting career. Even under the worst of circumstances, he knew that he would be able to manage.

He’d had a bit of good fortune so far in that he had signed with a very good agent. Thomas Reagan might not run the largest agency in the city, but he was selective in the talent that he signed and gave his clients his full attention. He had taken on a number of NYADA graduates over the years, finding them good and consistent work. Adam had been happy to sign with him and was excited to be called in to the office to discuss his prospects.

“Hi Adam,” Mr. Reagan greeted, shaking the younger man’s hand. “Thanks for coming by today. I’ve got some interesting things to discuss with you.”

“Thanks,” Adam said sincerely, taking the offered chair.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” Adam refused politely, having made the mistake of accepting the offer at his first meeting with the agent. Mr. Reagan might be well regarded professionally but capabilities did not extend to brewing a drinkable cup of coffee.

“Well, let’s cut to the chase,” the agent proposed as he sat down at his desk. “The last time we spoke, you mentioned that you’re committed to a summer production if I remember right.”

Adam nodded. “Yes, we start rehearsals right after I graduate and the festival runs through mid-August. I would be free to attend auditions from now through the end of the school term, and then right after the festival closes. Is that an issue?”

The agent considered the schedule and shook his head. “I don’t think so. There are several shows that are holding auditions in the coming couple of weeks that I’d like to send you out for and it’ll give us a chance to test the waters. What I’d like to get a sense of is what kind of roles really interest you. Is there a particular genre you’d prefer, or want to avoid?”

“I’m not inclined to be too fussy,” Adam admitted. “My first priority at this stage is to be working, so I’m not going to turn down anything decent. Off-Broadway and regional theater roles is more than fine if that’s what comes up. I’m thinking that I’d probably do better with straight plays than musicals, but I did take voice training and I think that I could do well with some musicals if the song book isn’t overly ambitious. I’m well aware of my limitations.”

His agent nodded, making a few notes. “I’m going to be sending out your CV to a few producers that have new shows in the works for the upcoming season. There are also some shows that will have replacement spots opening up. Some are chorus spots, but there are also some supporting roles that I think you’d be a nice fit with. A few need an actor that has a good grasp of accents.”

Adam grinned. “Well, I definitely have the British one down fairly well.”

Mr. Reagan chuckled, looking over his list again. “Okay then… I plan to keep you pretty busy for the next few weeks,” he warned. “We’ll be mindful of your school schedule, but I want to get you in front of as many directors as possible. I think that you’re highly marketable and it’s just going to be a matter of getting you in front of the right people at the right time. But I don’t think you have to worry. We’ll be able to get you work.”

“That’s something of a relief,” Adam admitted. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you, then.”

Mr. Reagan smiled and shook Adam’s hand again. “I’ll call you as soon as I’ve got some auditions set up.”

Adam walked out of the office, giving the secretary a cheery wave and felt much better about his employment prospects. It was one thing to think that you yourself had a chance and he knew that he was talent. But it was immensely gratifying and reassuring to have a professional in the business think that you had potential.

Despite his satisfaction at how their meeting had gone, Adam was at heart a realist. He knew that it would take a bit of time to get his career off the ground and find the right role and had to be determined and patient. In the meantime, he had his afternoon Theater Management class to focus on.

He was ready to graduate, he thought to himself as he listened to his professor drone on about the complexities of budgets and managing personnel. Four years of study had thought him a great deal and he was eager to start moving on with his career and start putting what he’d learned into practical action. He loved this school and all of the friends he’d made there, but he’d be the worst liar in the world if he didn’t admit that he was starting to feel a little constrained by the student environment. It was time for him to start moving on.

Once the class was dismissed, Adam gathered his things and set out for his final class of the day, moving through the hallways swarmed with younger students. He felt like a salmon trying to swim upstream as he deftly dodged underclassmen who were rushing to their own lessons. At one time, the crowd of bodies might have annoyed him, but now he could only look on them fondly. He wouldn’t be around to enjoy it much longer.

“Adam!”

He turned at hearing his name to see Mags running down the hallway in his direction, her mohawk flapping behind her. She landed in his arms with the force of a flying cannon ball, forcing him to spin in order to defuse the momentum of her blow and avoid being bowled over.

“Ooph… got you,” he grunted, swinging her about. “What’s got you so excited?”

She looked up at him, her dark eyes shining behind her glasses.”I got it! I got the job!”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You did? That’s bloody marvelous, darling,” he exclaimed, hugging her tightly and swinging her about.

“I didn’t think I would get it,” she insisted, her voice becoming an excited babble. “They’re one of the best production units!”

“I’m so happy for you,” Adam said happily, hugging her again. “You deserve this.”

“There’s only one downside,” Mags warned, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “I’m going to have to move. The job is in L.A.”

That didn’t come as a total surprise to Adam. Despite there being a thriving film and television industry in New York, he’d known that the odds were fairly high that Mags would have to relocate for her work.

“We were sort of expecting that,” he reminded gently, keeping his arm wrapped about her. “But I wouldn’t exactly call that a downside. To be in a city absolutely overflowing with all kinds of creative people… I think that you’re going to love it there.”

“It is exciting, but I’m going to be all alone there,” she said hesitantly. “All of my friends are here.”

Adam’s smile faltered at the reminder that his best friend would soon be on the other side of the country. “But it will be easier to see your folks,” he reminded, looking for the silver lining for his friend. With Mag’s family on the west coast, she’d only seen them once or twice a year since starting school in New York. “And you never have trouble making new friends. You’ll be fine.”

She gave her friend a tentative smile. “You’re trying very hard to convince me to go through with it,” she accused half-heartedly.

Adam sighed, knowing full well the kind of misgivings she was feeling. To jump without a net to catch you if you faltered was one of the scariest propositions that anyone could face. He’d done that when he left England to seek an education in America. Kurt did that when he’d arrived in New York with nothing more than his ambitions and his dreams.

He pulled her close, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. “Because it’s what you want to do,” he reminded her. “This is your chance and I don’t want to see you let it slip away because you’re afraid that you might lose your friends. Because that is never going to happen.”

She nestled again him, taking a bit of comfort from his presence. “I know. I[m just being silly,” she sighed.

“I do understand,” Adam assured her, not wanting to see her let her doubts hold her back. “But you are going to be amazing there, and I can’t wait to hear all your stories about how crazy Hollywood can be.

“And if you don’t mind me sharing the good news with the rest of the group, we have to plan a proper celebration,” he insisted, pulling her along with him. “Something really spectacular because this deserves it.”

Mags couldn’t help from laughing and nodding in acceptance. “It’s really happening,” she marveled as they walked down the hallway. “Graduation… the real world…”

“Yup… and we’re going to be fine,” he promised.

She looked at him with a sad, winsome smile. “Yes we are. Aren’t we?”

Adam nodded, refusing to give into doubt. The world awaited them outside of NYADA’s walls and it was time for them to face it.

* * *

Cassandra July turned on her heel to face her exhausted class, her eyes glinting dangerously when she saw the limp, flailing mess that was left of her students.

“Okay, listen up!” she demanded, her voice cracking like a whip. “As you all should be well aware of, your final critiques are next week. Over the next two classes, I am going to be evaluating you on all the skills that you were supposed to learn. I’m not going to be correcting you in any way during class. This is all about seeing if you actually know what you’re supposed to be doing and can correct yourself.

“You’re going to be judged on form, timing and body of knowledge. If you don’t know a grant jeté from a grand pilé at this point, don’t bother showing up.”

She looked over her class with the kind of appraisal that a leopard might show a herd of wounded gazelles. “I want to see that I haven’t been wasting my time in this room. The ones who haven’t been practicing all semester are going to be very apparent, so don’t think that you’re going to fool me. Whatever happens next week is completely on you.”

She dismissed them with a curt bark and Rachel felt herself falling back against the barre with an exhausted gasp. She knew that next week was going to be horrible and that realistically there was no way she would be able to convince Ms. July that she was ready to move on to the next level of classes. No matter how well she performed, she knew that she would be found lacking. The best she could hope for was to show enthusiasm and some technical improvement, maybe enough to show that she deserved to be advanced.

Ms. July’s normally harsh criticisms of her efforts had been strangely absent the last few classes. Rachel didn’t know if she could take that as a small sign that she was improving, or if the teacher had simply washed her hands of her problematic student. She knew that Ms. July would not hesitate to flunk her, and she couldn’t afford a failing grade. Not if she wanted to keep her spot at NYADA.

Waiting until the rest of the class retreated to the dressing rooms, Rachel gathered up the shreds of her confidence and approached her teacher carefully. Ms. July was doing some easy stretches to keep her muscles warm for her next class, one of her long legs propped up on the barre.

“Ms. July?” she said with as much poise as she could muster. “Do you have a moment?”

The dance teacher gave a low huff of annoyance. “What is it, Schwimmer? I thought I told you to clear out with the rest of the class. Don’t you have some practice to not bother with?”

Rachel ignored the sting of the harsh reprimand and licked her lips, her mouth suddenly gone try from nervousness. “I was hoping…” She paused, trying to figure out a way to make her request without offending the older woman. “I know that it’s probably a little late, but I was hoping you might have some advice… or help… Something so I can do better next week?”

Ms. July gave her a long, penetrating stare, as if weighting out the sincerity of her appeal. “You’re joking, right? Don’t you think it’s a little later for you to be asking for help?” she finally demanded, not bothering to hide her frustration.

“Ms. July…”

The older woman shook her head in bewilderment, cutting her off. “You had months to ask me for help,” she reminded bluntly. “Months! I’ve been telling you for the longest time that you weren’t measuring up. I warned you weeks ago that weren’t going to pass. Why did you wait until right before your critique to ask me about what you could do?”

Rachel felt herself whither a bit inside at the admonishment, knowing full well that Ms. July was right. “I know that I should have asked earlier, but I wasn’t ready to ask for help,” she admitted. “The past few weeks… it’s obvious that I took at lot of things for granted and I wasn’t giving my education the attention that it deserved.”

“You acted like a spoiled brat,” Ms. July corrected bluntly, not hiding the distain in her voice. “You spent your entire time in my class more interested in being proven right than actually learning anything.”

Rachel felt her stomach clench uncomfortably at the harsh reproach, but she couldn’t deny what her teacher was accusing her of. If she had any hope of salvaging the semester, she had to get Ms. July to see sincere her contrition was.

“You’re right,” she said honestly. “My behavior was inexcusable. I let my ego get the best of me and I didn’t give you the effort that you deserved from me. But I promise that I did learn from you! I’m a much better dancer than I was before I came here.”

“Oh really? Then give me a double turn,” Ms. July demanded, stepping back to give Rachel room. “On the right lead.”

Rachel hesitated, knowing that her teacher was setting her up to fail and not wanting to just walk into a trap.

“Go on,” Ms. July snapped. “Or are you just wasting more of my time?”

She inhaled and stepped forward, balancing on the ball of her right foot and pushed off with her left leg with enough momentum to get two spins out if it. She tried to keep her left leg tucked up and her right leg straight as she completed the two rotations, coming to a halt with just a trace of a wobble. It wasn’t terrible, but she knew that there was no way that Ms. July would be satisfied with her form.

The teacher shook her head in annoyance, her patience clearly at and end. “You don’t even see what you’re doing wrong! Your hips weren’t level and you didn’t even try to spot…” She gave an exasperated grunt, gesturing at Rachel’s body. “You’re dancing like you never stepped foot in my class and these are just the basics! I don’t have three months to show you what you should have been learning all along!”

Rachel sighed in dejection, realizing just how deep the a hole she’d dug herself into. “But I know I can catch up,” she insisted, desperately hoping to convince Ms. July of her sincerity. “I promise that I’ll work extra hard next semester. You don’t need to hold me back.”

The older woman shook her head. “Berry, if you think that next semester will be any easier, you’re just kidding yourself. The next classes are all about building on what you were supposed to learn here. If you don’t have these basics down, you’ll never be able to keep up. You’d just end up falling further behind.”

She picked up her hand towel and patted the back of her neck with it, staring at the younger woman with a look of bemused frustration. “Look… just practice your basics,” she advised. “It’s not going to transform you into a dancer, but let’s see what you actually learned. I’ll give you an impartial and thorough critique and we’ll figure out where you go from there.”

Rachel could only watch as her teacher stalked out of the dance studio, leaving her to ponder just how she could possibly fix what she had so carelessly messed up. To be honest, Ms. July had been a lot fairer than she had any right to expect after how she’d behaved. It was mortifying when she thought back to how disrespectful she had been and while the insults still grated, she had no one to blame for her lack of advancement but herself.

Her only hope now was to do her best and pray that it would be enough. And if she did fail, that she would be able to show her willingness to learn from her mistakes and that she deserved one more chance. She could do better… she had to…

* * *

Madam Tibideaux looked over the expectant faces of her students, already making mental judgments over which of them might not be there in the fall. There were one or two that she wouldn’t be surprised to see to drop out, worn down by the rigorous demands that would only get harder as they continued their education. And there were a few that she might very well end up failing if they didn’t suitably impress her during their critiques.

She leaned back against her desk, wondering who might surprise her in the end. “So here we are,” she pronounced. “The final weeks of the school year. You’ve all given me a great deal to think of in regards to your development and this critique will be your final exam that shows me what you’ve truly learned in this room.”

She paused, cocking her head thoughtfully. “I’ve given a great deal of reflection as to what I wanted to consider and how best to test for it. You all have unique talents and unique weaknesses and having you perform a single song will only show me so much. So what I’ve got in mind is going to be a real test of your abilities.”

She smiled at the low murmur coming from her students as they digested what she was telling them. Several of them looked concerned, others merely curious at what she was proposing. Time for her to lower the boom.

“You won’t be singing one song,” she warned. “You’ll be singing three.”

She paused, letting her students wince and groan at the pronouncement. “Yes, I know… I know you weren’t expecting it and it’s a lot to manage in a relatively short period of time. Which is why it’s an ideal challenge for you. This is going to give you all the opportunity to show me who you are as performers. You’re going to need to select material from a variety of genres that will show all that you are capable of as singers. You will need sound technique to perform three pieces back to back without strain or a loss in vocal quality.

“This is also where your knowledge of music and your originality will come into play. Where you will really get to show me how you see yourselves as artists. I want to see an interesting assortment of songs from each of you. You’re going to have the freedom to sing whatever you believe will show your voice and your artistry to its best advantage. I want to see your hearts and your spirits; not just your voices.”

She offered her class a soft smile, softening the blow a bit. “Choose your material carefully. We’re going to see what kind of performers you’ve matured into.”

She dismissed the class with a reminder that they had only a week to figure out their material, sweeping out of the room and leaving confusion and worries in her wake. Rachel looked to Kurt, her confusion evident on her face.

“Three songs?” she moaned. “On top of our other critiques? That’s impossible.”

Kurt pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. None of them had anticipated having to prepare additional songs and had been caught nearly completely unprepared.“It’s going to be a major challenge. And she’s not giving us guidelines on material, so that could be a big advantage or a trap if we pick wrong.”

Analisa was sitting on Kurt’s other side and looked over her notes. “This really does leave a lot of potential for screwing up. We know how picky she is about material that she doesn’t think is up to snuff.”

“Material is just one thing we have to worry about,” Jamie McLean mused. “She wants to see us, so we’ve got to really translate whatever we choose well. This is going to be tough.”

Katya looked over her notes and sighed. “And she’s going to want to see something different from us. If we just do what we’ve been doing all semester, that’s going to kill us.”

Kurt just nodded, considering the challenge that lay before them. He’d had some ideas about what songs he would choose from, but now with the demand for multiple pieces, he had to seriously reconsider his options.

He looked to his friends and classmates with a determined glint in his eyes. “I think we need to consider our songs as a whole and how they work together. What we pick has to show her that we can handle all kinds of material. Something up tempo, and then something more dramatic... We give her a show and not just a random collection of songs.”

Analisa nodded. “That would impress her,” she stated confidently. “The question is how we do it.”

“And we’ve only got a week to figure it out,” Rachel reminded.

Jamie couldn’t help laughing ruefully. “No pressure then.”

Kurt knew that they didn’t have a lot of time to figure this out. “I think we should get together and brainstorm,” he suggested. “We’ve been listening to one another sing for months now and we know what we can do and what she expects from us. Let’s get together this afternoon and run some ideas by one another.”

Rachel turned a thankful stare to her friend, grateful for the chance to get another perspective. “That’s a great idea. I’m in.”

Analisa nodded. “I’ll be done by five. We can meet at the diner around the corner.”

Jamie clapped his hands. “Okay then. After class at the diner for brainstorming and burgers. Sounds like a plan.”

Kurt grinned and grasped Rachel’s hand in his. “We’ve got this,” he said confidently. “We’re going to knock her brocade socks off.”

Rachel couldn’t help from getting swept along by their clear self-assurance. And she was admittedly grateful to have some people to run some ideas by. Usually she kept her own council about what she would want to perform, but that clearly hadn’t been working for her as of late. She had never felt so uncertain about her prospects and the input of those who’s abilities she respected would only help her.

And for the first time since setting foot in NYADA, she didn’t feel like she was surrounded by nothing but competition. These were people who could possibly help her, offering insights and suggestions that might help her performances. She could offer her own input that might help them.

And she wanted to help them. Kurt was her dearest friend, and she genuinely wanted to see him do well. But she was surprised that she also wanted to see if she could help Analisa and the others. She had so few friends and she did respect these singers. Maybe they could end up being more than cordial classmates and potential rivals for roles.

It had been increasingly clear to Rachel that she needed to make a change in how she approached things and how she treated her peers, and this seemed a perfect place to start.

* * *

Four hours would decide the fate of her students, Cassandra considered as she watched her morning students start their warm up exercises. Even before the testing officially began, it was apparent who had been practicing all along and who was struggling. Some things could be faked by following choreography, but not the foundations of flexibility or a strong core. The students who were able to pull in their abdomens to provide support and the ones who could stretch deeply at the barre stood out strongly from those who couldn’t. The ones who had good balance in their turns were evident, as were the ones whose form was lacking.

After having watched this lot for several months now, she doubted that the critique would change her opinions of her students very much. Those who were putting in the work had been readily apparent all along and she would reward those that she felt could survive the next levels. The rest would wash out. It wasn’t something that a single showing would change, one way or another.

As the piano played, she called out instructions to the students, ordering them to form lines and start showing what skills they’d managed to learn. Cassandra’s smile became shark-like when she considered that the lack of her customary insults and criticisms would likely be disconcerting to the class. It was one thing to get corrections, however harshly delivered, since it was all meant to help those who invested to improve. It was another to know that you were possibly making mistakes and know that while it wasn’t being called out, it was still being seen.

Her eyes narrowed when they fixed on Schwimmer and her patently pathetic attempts. The flaws in her form were obvious. She had limited flexibility and the bending of her spine certainly indicated that her strength was not what it should be after nearly a full year of work. When the order was called out to perform an arabesque, her leg was not raised nearly high or straight enough.

But Cassandra would have to acknowledge that she was trying and giving a lot more effort than she had all semester. Rather than complaining or trying to sneak in breaks for herself, she was throwing herself into the exercises and giving the kind of effort that her teacher had wanted to see all along. It was frustrating to see this kind of a late surge of interest, and a surge borne out only because she had failed to get the starring role she’d sought.

It wasn’t her way to reward bad behavior, and Berry showing newfound investment in her schooling strictly because she didn’t win a part just rubbed the teacher in her the wrong way. Cassandra wanted students who genuinely wanted to learn, and she was seeing nothing more than Berry’s determination to salvage what was left of her chances at NYADA.

When the class began to wind down, she ordered the students back to the barre to start their cool down exercises, and watched as Berry all but stumbled in exhaustion. Her endurance was clearly lacking and Cassandra knew that she had every legitimate reason to fail her outright.

Cassandra jotted down her notes, her observations confirming what she’d expected. There were a few in the group that had potential to become competent dancers and would survive moving on to the intermediate classes, but most were going to have to repeat. It was frustrating to her as a teacher not to have more with natural affinity for dance. Or at least a real desire to learn and not just pass enough to fulfill the course requirements.

She glanced up from her notes, seeing that the group had finished with their cool downs. “That’s it for today,” she said curtly, but lacking her usual sharpness. There was no need for that at this point. “Hit the showers. We’ll finish next session.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Berry inhale deeply and step back from the barre. The young girl looked a bit dejected over what she had to know was a poor showing, Cassandra considered. But her demeanor was a little bit different this time around. There wasn’t the sullenness that she usually saw when calling out Berry on her subpar dancing. The set of her jaw implied determination and willingness to muscle through, but not the sense of entitlement that Cassandra was accustomed to seeing from her. Rather than rushing to the showers, happy that the ordeal was over, she paused to try a step or two while she still had access to the room and the mirror. She watched herself, trying to see where she had gone wrong.

Cassandra snorted in distain, thinking to herself that the girl was wasting her time trying to practice at this late stage. But at least Berry was recognizing that she sucked. That was a far cry from her usual “I’ve been in dance classes since I was in diapers” boasting.

The dance teacher watched her for another moment, seeing her making the effort to push herself and knew that she had some thinking to do. She wasn’t going to change her opinion in regards to Berry’s grades, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t some things that needed to be considered.

* * *

The loft, thankfully, was quiet and gave Kurt and Rachel badly needed time to review their classroom notes and work on their presentations for their vocal critiques. With Santana out at work and Adam busy with his own final exams, the pair had some precious hours to get their work done without distraction.

“Have you finalized your songs yet?” she asked, reaching for the bowl of popcorn at her side. Something about all this work was stimulating her appetite in the worst way and she was grateful that she and Kurt had planned to keep some safe snacks within easy reach; otherwise both of them would be paying for it afterwards.

Kurt shook his head, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “Not really. I’ve got a bunch of ideas but I don’t want to give her what she’s already seen from me,” he explained. “She knows that I can sing emotionally and that I can be a showman. I’m not sure what I can do that will really surprise her.”

Rachel just smiled, popping a kernel into her mouth. “You’ve got to show her that you can do both at the same time. An emotional song doesn’t need to be introspective and gentle. Your voice has gotten a lot stronger, so pull out all the stops.”

Kurt considered the idea, his expressive face betraying his concern. “I’m not a huge belter,” he reminded. “I mean, I’m a lot better, but…”

“No,” she corrected insistently. “Kurt, you are one of the best singers that I’ve ever heard in my life. Your voice is beautiful and strong and there is nothing that you can’t sing. Don’t hold back because you think that your technique isn’t as strong as mine, because you know as well as I do that I focus too much on technique. You’ve got tremendous soul when you sing and you need to let that just fly.”

She smiled and took his hand in his, for once being glad to be in the position to be supportive and reassuring. “This whole thing is about us showing who we are as artists, and that is the one thing that I always felt about you. You know who you are as an artist better than anyone I know. Everything you sing is full of emotion and heart and you’ve got the skill now to really show that off.”

Kurt looked up at her, not bothering to hide his uncertainty. “So it’s time to take off the training wheels?” he joked half-heartedly.

“Go big or go home,” she insisted.

Kurt bit his lip and nodded. “I’ve got a few things that I was considering but wasn’t sure if I could pull it off.”

Rachel gave him an encouraging smile. “There is nothing that you can’t pull off. I’ve heard you sing things that have completely blown me away because I would never have expected them to come out of you. It’s time that Madam Tibideaux saw that too.”

“Do you know what you’re singing?” Kurt asked, stealing some of Rachel’s popcorn.

She felt her cheeks warm when she thought about what he might think about her choices and nodded. “I know that my weak spot has been really letting emotion come out while staying in character so that’s what I’m going to focus on. That I can keep my technique and still show my heart.”

Kurt couldn’t help from smiling at his friend. “Now it’ll be your turn to make us cry,” he proposed.

Rachel laughed, cuddling against Kurt and closed her eyes so she could savor his presence while she could. There would come a time when she would not be able to enjoy having him so close by and she wanted him to know that he meant so much to her. He was going to be very surprised when he heard her song choices.

Her phone chimed, indicating that she had just gotten a text message. But it was on the other side of their coffee table and she was reluctant to relinquish her hold on her friend. Reaching out with her bare foot, she managed to nudge it enough that she was able to reach it.

Her eyes widened when she saw the message and handed the phone to Kurt. “I think you’re going to want to see this. It’s from Blaine.”

Kurt snorted. “He’s the last person that I want to see anything from,” he reminded her. Blocking Blaine’s number had saved him a lot of aggravation.

“Oh, this you’re going to want to see.”

Sighing in exasperation, Kurt took the phone and looked at the message on the screen.

You can tell Kurt that I didn’t get in. That should make him happy.

* * *

“I’m not going to lie,” Adam admitted, sipping at his tea as they snuggled on Kurt’s sofa. They had a few hours to catch up with one another in between their final exams and grasped at it eagerly. “That is something of a relief. I’m glad that you’re not going to have to deal with him next year.”

Kurt nodded, not bothering to hide that he was relieved as well. “Well, I talked to Sam after we got the message. He didn’t get into any of his New York schools. But he did get into the music program at UCLA, so he’s going to be all the way on the other side of the country.”

Adam couldn’t help from smiling in contentment. The thought of Kurt’s frustrating ex thousands of miles away definitely made Adam a lot happier.

Kurt didn’t miss the pleased expression on his boyfriend’s face. “You look way too satisfied over this,” he admonished playfully. “That’s not very nice.”

No, it wasn’t, Adam acknowledged to himself. That didn’t mean that he felt badly about it. “I’m not going to feel guilty about him not being in a position to harass you,” he insisted. “Especially when I’m not around to run interference.”

Kurt just shook his head, tempted to scold his boyfriend. But it wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought the exact same things when he’d first heard the news.

“Am I a terrible person for being glad that he didn’t get in?” he asked. “I never thought that I’d take pleasure in someone else’s misfortune.”

Adam cocked his head, gazing down on Kurt thoughtfully. “Darling, you shouldn’t feel guilty about being glad that you’re not going to have him pestering you all the time. You deserve a bit of peace. And after how he treated you, he doesn’t deserve your regrets.”

Kurt couldn’t hold back the soft smile that broke through. His boyfriend’s support never failed to make him feel at ease. “Thank you for the reminder of why I love you,” he said softly, kissing the older man warmly.

Adam smiled back, his blue eyes crinkling. “Any time, love. How are finals going?”

Kurt sighed at the unwanted reminder of what he was in the midst of. “Most of my written exams are done, thankfully. I’ve only got one more,” he mused. “I did my first day of dance and I’m still alive, so there’s that. I’ve got the final day of dance on Thursday and then all day Friday is vocals.”

“I wish that I could be there,” Adam said regretfully. “You know I love watching you perform. It’s highly unfair of your Madam to do it behind closed doors.”

Kurt shrugged. “I’d love to have you there, but I don’t see any way of sneaking you in.”

“I’m just teasing, love. I know this exam is important to you. But they are making video copies, right?”

The younger man nodded. “So I can have it for my portfolio. And with these songs, I’m either going to want to keep them forever or erase every copy I can get my hands on.”

At Adam’s quizzical look, Kurt went on to explain. “I’m doing a few songs that aren’t like anything I’ve ever done before. Things from more modern musicals with rock elements. It’s not exactly what I’m known for.”

Adam pursed his lips as he considered Kurt’s selections. “But you’ve sung rock numbers with us numerous times. It’s not exactly out of your wheelhouse.”

“It’s one thing to do it for fun, but I’ve never doing anything like that for a class assignment. I’ve never been judged on it,” Kurt explained. “I need to show Madam Tibideaux that I’ve grown in my technique and can use the kind of vocal power that someone like Rachel does so easily. And do it while still keeping the emotional soul of the song.”

“Now you make me want to sneak in even more,” Adam teased. “Darling… you are going to be amazing. Because you always are. I have no doubt that you will impress her beyond words.”

Kurt couldn’t help from feeling flattered by his lover’s effuse praise. “Your bias is showing again,” he teased playfully.

Adam laughed brightly, not bothering to hide his affection. “Always and forever,” he promised. He pulled Kurt’s hand up to press a warm kiss to his fingers, earning a deep flush on the younger man’s face.

“But in all seriousness… how are you going to sneak me in so I can see you sing? Because I don’t believe I’d fit into any of Rachel’s dresses,” Adam joked.

“Pity… you’ve got better legs.”

* * *

“All right… first group on the line!” Cassandra called out.

Rachel hurried to take her place, forcing herself not to mentally bemoan that as one of the shortest people in the class, she would be standing in the front where she would be readily seen. There would be no opportunity to hide in the background and hope that her mistakes would be missed. She found her mark and quickly fell into the starting pose for the choreography they were to perform.

It was almost over, she thought thankfully. One last test and her critique would be over. It was all that she could hope that she would have suitably impressed her teacher enough to save herself from a failing grade.

The choreography was a lot more complex than she was usually called up to do, and the rhythm was fast which meant that a single error would put her behind the beat and be nearly impossible to catch up. There was so much to remember, so many steps and turns and it was hard to keep track of what she needed to do at what point. Pirouettes that suddenly stopped and then resumed in the opposite direction. Leaps that would send her to the floor and then a roll to bring her up to her knees. Lunges into tilts that she strained to hold position on.

Hitch kicks lead into pique turns, then a pas de chat. It was like Ms. July was squeezing every possible dance move into a single piece, yet somehow it came out as coherent choreography. Rachel tried to keep her turnout in mind, knowing that how she did the moves was as important as what she did.

All the while, Ms. July watched the group’s every move critically and made her notes.

The music brought them back to their starting places, Rachel finishing in a kneeling position, arching her back. She felt her chest heaving, nearly gasping for breath from the strain of keeping up with the other dancers. She felt her teacher’s sharp eyes moving over them, looking for flaws.

At any other time, there would be harsh criticisms of their forms, or at least one of them being called out for being behind the beat. Instead they had just a few seconds to regain their breath as their teacher checked their forms, and then dismissed them so the next group could perform.

It was the not knowing that was the worst, Rachel thought as she retreated to the other side of the room where she could recover and watch the others. So many of them were clearly struggling and she wasn’t sure if it felt better knowing that she wasn’t alone, or worse in that she might not have been able to improve enough to stand apart in a positive light. Not knowing she had performed bothered her more than anything else.

Once the last group was finished, Ms. July ordered them to the barre. “Do your cool downs and then you can leave,” she ordered curtly, gathering up the notes she’d been making. “You’ll have your grades next week. If you have any questions about how you did, wait until your grades are posted.”

Rachel fought back the impulse to approach her and get an evaluation on the spot, knowing that it would only offend her teacher and probably get her flunked just on principle. She had done everything she could at this point and now it would just be a matter of waiting. She just hoped that it had been enough.

* * *

Kurt arrived to the Round Room an hour before the vocal critiques were scheduled to begin, needing to have a chance to see the space again and center himself. The musicians were busy setting up, preparing to provide accompaniment for the students that would be performing, and the tech team was setting up the cameras for recording. The room still had an air of grandeur despite the fact that it would be used only for student critiques and there would be no admiring audience. But the acoustics would be fantastic.

He had only been in this room once before, the night of the Winter Showcase. That night he’d been caught totally unprepared when Madam Tibideaux publicly challenged him to prove that he deserved the place at NYADA that he aspired to. He must have given her what she’s been looking for and what he hadn’t shown before since he was now standing in that same room, preparing to be judged again.

This time, he wasn’t at all anxious. He had proven that he had what it took to be there and found himself being challenged and nurtured in a way that he’d never experienced before. This wasn’t an exercise designed to cut him down the way he’d been so many times before. There would be criticism to be sure, but it was to see how much he’d progressed and what he needed to focus on in the future.

Despite the fact that he’d be singing material unlike he’d ever dared take on before, he felt none of the pre-performance jitters that he’d felt in the past. Instead he was rather excited about the prospect. Kurt thought that he’d picked songs that would show how much his voice had improved over the past few months and that he had evolved as a performer. That he had undiscovered depths that he was just beginning to display.

His choice of outfits for the critique surprised Rachel because it looked on the surface as if he hadn’t put any thought into it at all. But he’d in truth selected the cream colored Henley and dark wash jeans with considerable care. It would fit each of the songs he’d chosen and let the evolution of his character shine through. Around his neck, he wore one of Adam’s necklaces; placed there by his boyfriend for luck.

While things were still quiet, he took a moment to walk across the stage and get a feel for it. Facing the chairs arranged about the room, Kurt considered that the last time he’d sung in this room, the chairs were filled with NYADA alumni and theater luminaries. Today it would just be his teacher and his classmates. Piece of cake, he thought.

As the other students slowly began to file in, taking their seats and making their own mental preparations, Kurt felt that he could relax. He was looking forward to showing what he was able to do and share this with his friends and peers.

Rachel took a seat next to Kurt and looked lovely in a pale blue dress that lent her a softer, more ethereal presence than she’d been adopting the past few months. She looked to him, the smile on her face tender and seeming to express a sense of peace that Kurt could never remember seeing from her before. Now that it seemed that Rachel had finally stop constantly trying to defend her self-imagined sense of superiority all the time, she seemed far more at ease with herself than Kurt could remember her being in a very long time.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, not wanting to draw attention to them.

She just smiled and nodded. “I really am,” she insisted gently. “I’m kind of looking forward to this.”

“Me too,” he admitted without a trace of uncertainty. He took her hand in his, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

He felt her slide closer to him, enough so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. “I know that a lot of things haven’t turned out quite the way we planned,” she admitted. “But there is absolutely no one that I’d rather be doing this with than you.”

Kurt felt his chest tighten at her softly spoken admission, seeing again why he loved his friend so much. And despite all their drama of the past year, he thought that they’d finally reached a good place.

When Madam Tibideaux arrived, the entire class had assembled and taken their seats and the musicians were finishing their tune ups. She looked resplendent in her red and gold brocade robes as she took her place before them, the patterns bringing to Kurt’s mind the burning plumage of a phoenix. He wondered if that was a good omen for them.

“Good morning all,” she greeted cordially, the expression on her normally stern face surprisingly relaxed given the occasion. “And welcome to your spring critique. When you all first arrived at NYADA, you came with certain gifts and certain weaknesses. Over the past months, we’ve explored your abilities and challenged you. What I hope to see today is the summation of your development.

“Before you sing, I would like to hear what your time at NYADA has meant for you and how it influenced your material and your artistic choices. As I explained previously, you will be judged on all aspects of your performance and if it shows your overall development. So good luck to you all, and I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve chosen to show me.”

She took her seat before the stage and opened her notebook so she could make her notes. Without further ado, the first of them was called to the stage.

Kurt tried to give his classmates the attention that they deserved, wanting to see what they had come up with. Madam Tibideaux was calling them in alphabetical order, so Rachel would be going up shortly. He reached over to give her hand another reassuring squeeze, wanting her to know that he was there for her. Her small hand squeezed, letting him know that his unspoken message had been received and reciprocated.

Once the first student had finished to his classmates’ enthusiastic applause, Madam Tibideaux nodded her approval and called for the next student to take the stage.

“Ms. Berry… if you’re ready.”

Rachel’s eyes flickered to Kurt, seeing his encouraging smile and took a deep steadying breath. Giving his hand another squeeze, she rose to her feet and stepped confidently to the stage where she faced her teacher.

“Thank you, Madam,” she said sincerely. She looked to her teacher, who was looking at her expectantly. There were so many things that she wanted to say, to try to explain what had been cycling in her head the past few weeks. So much had changed for her and it was hard to put it to words.

“To be honest, my time here at NYADA hasn’t turned out the way I’d expected,” she admitted. “I took a lot of things for granted and made mistakes. And it’s not exactly a secret that I’ve had my disappointments. But I want to think that I’m going to be a better performer because of that. That maybe I can open up more, and find something more than just my voice to show.

“The songs I’ve chosen are about my journey here. I hope that they reflect both the person that I was and who I hope to be.”

She turned to nod at the musicians, cuing them to start and a bright flute began the overture. Rachel was sure that the piece was readily recognizable to her classmates, and they might be surprised by her choice. If there was a character from this musical that she was expected to gravitate towards, they probably expected it to be Laurey Williams.

“It ain't so much a question of not knowin' what to do,” Rachel began, her voice taking on a slight twang. “I've know'd what's right and wrong since I've been ten! I've heard a lot of stories, and I reckon they are true. About how girls are put upon by men.”

“I know I mustn't fall into the pit. But when I'm with a feller.....I furgit!”

It had been hard for her to admit her mistakes, because she should have known better. But it had been so easy for her to be lead astray. Whether because someone was flattering her, or her own ego getting in the way. Ado Annie seemed to speak to that part of her and made picking this song uncomfortably easy.

“I'm just a girl who can’t say no,” she sang as the tempo picked up. She looked at her audience with a perplexed expression, hoping that she could find the answers here. “I'm in a terrible fix! I always say ‘come on, let's go’! Just when I oughta say nix!”

How true that was for her, she realized. That had been a hard admission to realize. How often she did what she knew was detrimental to herself and her goals, all because she hadn’t been able to control her impulses.

She stepped across the stage, her skirt swirling about her legs as she moved. “When a person tries to kiss a girl, I know she oughta give his face a smack.” She raised her hand and pretended to hit her unseen suitor, but then seemed to wilt as her determination waned. “But as soon as someone kisses me, I somehow, sorta, wanta kiss him back!”

She could see a few smiles coming from her classmates, and there was a chuckle here and there. She gave a dramatic huff and shook her head, taking of a self-deprecating demeanor that felt surprisingly honest.

“I'm just a fool when lights are low,” Rachel trilled, admitting to her flaws and failings. It felt surprisingly freeing to having those flaws acknowledged by those around her, but not judged. “I can’t be prissy and quaint. I ain't the type that can faint. How can I be what I ain't? I can’t say no!”

She stamped her foot, taking ownership of her flaws. She knew that she could be flighty and distracted, and then so painfully single-minded that she missed the important details.

“Whatcha gonna to do when a feller gets flirty, and starts to talk purty?” she asked her audience, pretending that they were Laurey in the scene with her. “Whatcha gonna do? Sposin’ that he says that your lips are like cherries, or roses, or berries? Whatcha goin' to do?

“Sposin' that he says that you're sweeter 'n cream, and he's gotta have cream or die? Whatcha goin' to do when he talks that way? Spit in his eye?”

She thought back to those two jerks that had latched onto her after the Winter Showcase and then abandoned her after Midnight Madness. She had let them use her, attached herself to her coattails in an attempt to elevate themselves and shut out her best friend in the process. She had fallen so easily to their empty flattery and it put her in a terrible hole that she was still digging herself out of.

“I'm just a girl who can’t say no. Kissin's my favorite food,” she acknowledged, drawing herself up with determination. Now that she knew her flaws, she could guard against the damage they could do. “With or without the mistletoe, I’m in a holiday mood. Other girls are coy and hard to catch, but other girls ain’t havin’ any fun. Every time I lose a wrestling match, I have a funny feeling that I won.”

That was the most surprising thing for her and the oddest discovery. She’d been crushed by the disappointments of the past months, but found it strangely freeing. She found herself letting go of a lot of what she expected… no, demanded for herself and was now able to embrace what life threw at her.

“Though I can feel the undertone, I never make a complaint,” she acknowledged ruefully, thinking about Annie’s mistakes. How she kept chasing after the wrong man while missing that the perfect man had been right under her nose the entire time. She was more like Annie than she would ever have believed. “Till it’s too late for restraint. Then when I want to, I can’t! I can’t say no!”

She finished with a stamp of her foot and a shake of her hair. She wasn’t going to apologize for being a flawed human being who just wanted too much. Not when she wanted to be a kinder, more thoughtful person in the end.

Her eyes flickered to Kurt, who was grinning widely at her performance and gave her a subtle thumbs up. She paused for a second to regroup as the music shifted, the bright tones shifted to something much softer and more somber. Her goal with her second song was to be a recognition of her mistakes and what they’d cost her.

“Isn’t it rich?” Rachel voice was soft, drifting on the gentle notes of the flute and piano accompanying her. She’s remembered that Kurt loved her voice best during her more gentle performances, and it wasn’t as if Madam Tibideaux didn’t already know that she had tremendous vocal power at her disposal. She wanted to give a more heartfelt performance and show another side of herself.

“Are we a pair? Me here, at last, on the ground. You in mid-air. Send in the clowns.”

Kurt would never know how much Rachel looked up to him. To his strength and dignity and how he overcame hardship. She so often was ready to crumble at the least setback and sometimes felt shamed when comparing herself to Kurt’s example.

“Isn’t it bliss?” Rachel asked, her eyes softening when she thought about just how blessed she had been and didn’t appreciate. “Don’t you approve? One who keeps tearing around. One who can’t move. Where are the clowns? Send in the clowns.”

This song was dangerous for her, because it had been covered so many times, and by some of her favorite idols. Copying them even a little bit would ruin what she was trying to accomplish. She remembered what she had been told. She couldn’t be Judy or Barbra or any of the others. She had to be Rachel.

She felt her vision waver as she blinked back tears that had welled up unbidden. She felt so vulnerable there, bearing her soul in a way that she’d always been afraid to.

“Just when I’d stopped opening doors. Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,” she sang, keeping her tone bright and pure and avoiding the vocal tricks she’d often employed to show emotion. “Making my entrance again with my usual flair. Sure of my lines. No one is there.”

The character from A Light Night Music was an actress who could hide behind artifice, but here she was laying her heart out for the man that she loved. Rachel felt herself doing the same, wanting her audience to see all of her frailties and hopes and fears.

“Don’t you love farce?” she asked plaintively. “My fault, I fear. I thought that you’d want what I want. Sorry, my dear.

“But where are the clowns? There ought to be clowns. Quick! Send in the clowns.”

One of the criticisms that had been hard for her to hear was her habit of hiding herself as a performer by mimicking her idols. Putting herself out there, with a song so well known and so often covered and making it her own was a self-imposed challenge that she needed to do.

She couldn’t help from glancing at Madam Tibideaux, who was watching her closely. Her expression was coolly intent as she watched her student, betraying nothing of her thoughts. The only time the dean looked away was to make her notes.

Rachel sighed, as the song began to glide to its conclusion, where her character faced heartbreak and disappointment. She’d had her heart broken several times in the past months. With Finn, who she now saw as being so very wise in ending things. With Funny Girl, where she now recognized just how unprepared and arrogant she had been. And with NYADA, where her view of herself had been challenged and broken.

“What a surprise. Who could foresee?” Rachel sang, keeping her voice restrained to show the heartbreak that her character was feeling. “I’d come to feel about you what you felt about me. Why only now, when I see that you’ve drifted away? What a surprise. What a cliché.”

Rachel wrapped her arms about herself, as if trying to comfort herself because the one that she wanted to comfort her wouldn’t. Her lower lip trembled and she fought to keep her voice steady.

“Isn’t it right? Isn’t it queer?” she asked. “Losing my timing this late in my career. And where are the clowns? Quick, send in the clowns.

“Don’t bother… they’re here,” she breathed, feeling a tear escaping her eye.

She could hear the applause of her classmates who seemed genuinely moved by what she had shown them. Her gaze flew to the one whose opinion meant the most to her, even beyond Madam Tibideaux’s. Kurt’s eyes were shimmering and there was a familiar tightness to his mouth that betrayed his efforts to keep his own emotions in check.

Rachel offered him a soft smile as the music for her final song began to fill the room. His lips twitched when he recognized the piece and he saw Rachel’s demeanor shift again, from regretful to wistful.

“There’s a saying old, says that love is blind.” Rachel’s voice soared softly, elegant in its restraint and gentle in its power. “Still we’re often told, seek and ye shall find. So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind.”

She smiled warmly at Kurt, marveling that despite everything that they’d both been through that he was still there for her.

“Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet,” Rachel crooned, letting her love for her friend shine through. “He’s the big affair I cannot forget. Only man I ever think of with regret.”

She had regrets when it came to Kurt. He had stood by her side and supported her well past the point that any rational person would have reached their limits. Rachel knew that she hadn’t treated him well, often taking his care for granted and not showing him the kind of love that he had shown her.

“I’d like to add his initial to my monogram,” Rachel sang dreamily. “Tell me where s the shepherd for this lost lamb?”

She looked to her friend, the expression on her face one of love and longing. “There’s a somebody that I’m longing to see. I hope that he turns out to be someone who’ll watch over me.”

Rachel closed her eyes and held out her arms, as if dreaming of her future love. But the true focus of her love was sitting right there and she very much wanted him to know just how much he meant to her. Rachel knew without a doubt that if she were a man or if Kurt were straight, that they probably would be engaged by now since there was no one who understood her better. Who she was and what she really needed, not just what she wanted.

“I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood. I know I could, always be good,” she promised, thinking of all the times she’d fallen short. The numerous times when she’d abused their friendship and not shown her appreciation for all that he did. That Kurt continued to forgive her spoke more about him than it did about her. “To the one who’ll watch over me.

“Although he may not be the man some girls think as handsome,” Rachel sang longingly, thinking how absurd that was. Kurt was beautiful and strong and so worthy of love and admiration. “To my heart he carries the key.

“Won’t you tell me, please put on some speed? Follow my lead. Oh, how I need someone to watch over me.”

And that was what it all boiled down to. There was no one who had supported her the way Kurt did. Who had stood by her and wanted her to be happy. He was the one person who wasn’t afraid to tell her when she was wrong and still love her despite everything. Their lives would move on and they would have other people moving in and out, but she doubted that there was any friend or lover that would love and look out for her the way Kurt did.

The music began to soften as the song drew to a gentle close and Rachel hoped that her friend realized that she was singing to him. “Won’t you tell me, please put on some speed? Follow my lead. Oh, how I need someone to watch over me.

“Someone to watch over me!”

Her classmates applauded her and cheered enthusiastically and a few of them had even gotten to their feet. Kurt’s eyes were shining as he clapped, his love for her apparent and for the first time Rachel realized that she had found her soulmate. The one who would stand at her side through all things.

No matter what happened after today, for Rachel that meant everything.

Madam Tibideaux made no indication whether or not she found Rachel’s performance acceptable and as she had done or the previous performers, merely waited for the class to settle before calling the next student to take the stage.

Rachel stepped off the stage and fell into Kurt’s arms, feeling his breath against her cheek as he held her close. Those surprisingly strong arms about her grounded her, provided her center of her universe. She squeezed him tight, wanting to assure her friend that what she’d just expressed was true and not just for her performance.

They settled in their seats, forcing themselves to regain control of their emotions and turn their attention to their classmates. They would talk more about what Rachel had done but for now, they had their peers who deserved their focus.

Kurt watched intently, giving his classmates the respect that they deserved and genuinely enjoying their efforts. He felt honored to be among this insanely talented group and as his turn approached. Once again, he marveled at his lack of nervousness, thinking that with such a high stakes critique on the line that he should be at least a little apprehensive.

“Mr. Hummel?” Madam Tibideaux called out. “If you please?”

By now the class had relaxed and there were encouraging cheers from his classmates as he stepped to the center of the stage. He took a steadying breath and looked about the room, seeing the expectant and encouraging faces and then the cool, dispassionate expression on Madam Tibideaux.

“Thank you, Madam,” he said calmly. “The past few months have been interesting, to say the very least. I came into NYADA wanting very much to be a performer, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to. I always thought that no one would take me seriously. My time at NYADA have started to show me that a lot of the limits that I thought I had no choice about accepting were self-imposed more than anything else.”

He pursed his mouth, thinking of what he’d learned about himself since coming to New York. “The most important thing I’ve learned is that this is what I want to do with my life. What I’m meant to do. And I want to thank everyone here for helping me see that.”

He saw Rachel’s eyes tear and her loving smile and knew that he could do this. He took a breath and nodded to the musicians to start. The piano started the bright, gentle tune and Kurt closed eyes.

“My days are brighter than morning air. Evergreen pine and autumn blue. But all my days are twice as fair, if I could share my days with you.”

Kurt’s voice rode the music that seemed to drift about him, lifting sweetly. He’d always loved the innocent sweetness of this song, as perfect a portrayal of first love as he could imagine. Where everything was possible and there was no darkness in the world.

He opened his eyes and held out his arms, as if to embrace everyone watching him. “My nights are warmer than fire coals. Incense and stars and smoke bamboo. But nights were warm beyond compare, if I could share my nights with you.”

His voice began to soar, secure and confident in his ability to hold the notes as they rose on the air. He felt his body moving, as if trying to follow the notes before they drifted out of reach.

“To dance in my dreams,” he sang, the smile on his face one of pure wonderment. Kurt had so many things in his life that gave him happiness, but there was nothing outside of his friends and loved ones that gave him nearly as much joy as he felt at that instant. “To shine when I need the sun. With you… to hold me when dreams are done!”

His voice leapt to hit that high note, jumping nearly a full octave without the slightest pause. His smile was dazzling as he spun about like a child.

“And oh....” His voice continued to rise, sliding easily into his upper range and ringing out pure and sweet. “My dearest love… If you will take my love, then all my dreams are truly begun.”

His voice slipped effortlessly back to his middle range, pouring the love of what he was doing into his voice. “And time weaves ribbons of memory. To sweeten life when youth is through. But I would need no memories there.”

He looked at his classmates and his teacher, grateful that he had the chance to share this with them. And hovering in the back of the room, he caught a glimpse of tousled blond curls and a wide smile directed at him.

He was going to kill Adam for sneaking in, but only after kissing the life out of him.

“If I could share my life with you.”

He could hear the applause of his classmates, knowing that he had shown them the very best example of what they already knew he could do. Now he was ready to switch things up. The music shifted, soft piano and flute giving way to guitar and drums.

“I am what you want me to be,” Kurt stated, infusing his voice with a subtle measure of iron grit. “And I’m your worst fear you’ll find in me.

“Come closer,” he beckoned wickedly, crooking his finger at his audience. He was daring them. “Come closer.

“I am more than memory, I am what might be, I am mystery. You know me. So show me.”

Kurt began to slink across the stage, a dangerous presence that challenged his classmates to follow him. “When I appear it's not so clear if I'm a simple spirit or I'm flesh and blood.

“But I'm alive, I'm alive, I am so alive. And I feed on the fear that's behind your eyes. And I need you to need me it's no surprise. I'm alive! So alive! I'm alive.”

Kurt expertly balanced power and subtly as he built up his character that was a bit different than Gabe was portrayed in the show. Gabe could be destructive and even malevolent, but Kurt was elemental. A force like wind or lightning that could be beautiful or destructive. The beautiful notes emerging from his throat not quite concealing the menace in his words.

“I am flame and I am fire, I am destruction, decay, and desire,” Kurt growled as he paced the stage like a caged animal. “I'll hurt you. I'll heal you.

“I'm your wish, your dream come true,” he proclaimed like a young god, holding out his arms to beckon his audience in. “And I am your darkest nightmare too. I've shown you. I own you.”

He felt his body surging, feeling free as his voice filled the room, sure and powerful. “And though you made me you can't change me,” he warned, letting the darkness color his words. “I'm a perfect stranger who knows you too well.”

The shift from innocent love to something dark and obsessive was something that he’d seen and experienced before. He’d seen Blaine turn on him, going out of his way to deliberately hurt the one he professed to love. He’d seen Rachel roll mindlessly over those that were close to her because they stood in the way of what she wanted. Love could so easily curdle if it became all about what you needed and you lost sight of what your partner needed as well.

“I'm alive, I'm alive, I am so alive,” Kurt sang, his voice soaring with power. “And I'll tell you the truth if you let me try. You're alive, I'm alive, and I'll show you why. I'm alive. So alive! I'm alive!”

His voice began to rise with the song, building and soaring as the song built. He found the power to lead the melody, showing no hint of strain or hesitation.

“I'm right behind you,” he warned dangerously, glaring with a nearly unholy blaze in his eyes. “You say, ‘Forget,’ but I'll remind you. You can try to hide, you know that I will find you. 'Cause if you won't grieve me, you won't leave me behind!”

Damn, he thought absently as his voice absolutely filled the room, the note long and steady. That sounded good.

“Oh, oh, whoa, whoa... No, no, no! I'm alive, I'm alive, I am so alive!” Kurt leapt, as if the spirit within him was too powerful to be contained by weak flesh. “If you climb on my back, then we both can fly. If you try to deny me I'll never die.

“I'm alive! So alive! I'm alive!Yeah, yeah…I'm alive! I'm alive! I'm alive!”

Kurt came to a stop right before Madam Tibideaux, demanding her attention and regard. He could feel the sweat on his face, and the cheers of his classmates. He hoped that he’d surprised them with the nearly animalistic display that he’d never had the confidence to try before.

The music shifted again and the melody for his final song began. This was one that he thought would surprise everyone most. He’d shown them heart and he’d shown them power. Now he would blend both together in a way that would show his voice at its best potential. He felt amazing, nearly buzzing with energy but he needed to pull it back for the last song. He’d worked hard on this arrangement and thought it would suit the song well.

The only instrument accompanying him was a gently played guitar, and Kurt closed his eyes to center himself. Balancing the power that he wanted to show with a delicate touch. The lack of any musical accompaniment besides the gentle guitar would put his voice front and center, with nowhere to hide. There were no vocal tricks that would mask mistakes or flaws. He would be vocally naked.

“One song glory, one song before I go,” he started softly; the words a prayer to an uncaring deity who’d thus far ignored previous pleas. “Glory, one song to leave behind.

“Find one song, one last refrain. Glory, from the pretty boy front man… who wasted opportunity.”

He normally identified with Mark from RENT, but in exploring this song Kurt realized that he had just as much in common with Roger. A man with tremendous talent who’s ambitions never seemed to be realized. To hope for one chance to leave his mark on the world before his inevitable death.

“One song, he had the world at his feet,” Kurt sang, infusing the heartbreak over Roger’s situation. “Glory, in the eyes of a young girl. A young girl.”

Kurt rarely spoke to anyone about his darkest fears. That no matter what he did, that he would fail to accomplish anything with his life. That he would never find success; that he when he passed no one would even know that he’d existed. His feared that his talent would not be enough, because he was too unique. Too strange. Too gay.

“Find glory. Beyond the cheap colored lights.” His voice became stronger, telling the story of a man who feared that his time was rapidly running out. “One song, before the sun sets. Glory, on another empty life.

“Time flies! Time dies!” Kurt gave this song everything he had within him. There was power, but also heartbreak. The song didn’t make use of his range, but he didn’t need high notes to show what his voice was capable of. Or what he had within him.

“Glory, one blaze of glory! One blaze of glory! Glory!”

Kurt looked to his audience, feeding of their reactions. Rachel’s mouth was slightly open in shock, her dark eyes shimmering. Analisa was watching intently, leaning forward least she miss a single note. Jamie was nodding proudly, happy to see someone that he respected in his element, while Katya was wiping at her eyes.

Adam merely smiled, not bothering to wipe away the tears that streamed down his face.

Kurt reined back his voice from its soaring heights, showing the power in quiet softness. “Find glory in a song that rings true. Truth like a blazing fire, an eternal flame. Find, one song, a song about love. Glory, from the soul of a young man.”

Kurt had felt love before and been hurt by it. Losing Blaine had crushed him and it had taken a long time for him to find his strength again but he moved past that hurt. If he lost Adam, he’d be hurt beyond measure but he knew that he could survive. But if he could not perform… if he could no longer sing or act, his life would no longer have meaning. Then he might as well fade away, because there would be no further reason for living.

Death might be inevitable, but everyone wanted to leave something behind to mark their time on Earth. For Kurt that was a song or a performance that people would look back upon to remember him by.

“A young man, find the one song. Before the virus takes hold,” Kurt breathed, feeling Roger’s fear viscerally. There wasn’t a gay man born since the Eighties that didn’t have that mortal fear of how an act of love and passion that could lead to death. “Glory, like a sunset. One song to redeem this empty life.”

Kurt was determined that his life would not be a meaningless one. He might not have Rachel’s single-minded focus, but he was just as ambitious. He would not fade into the darkness without his light blazing first.

“Time flies!” His voice was a defiant cry against death and emptiness. “And then no need to endure anymore! Time dies!”

He felt his body slump, having given everything he had within him. The last time he was applauded in this room, he’d been taken completely by surprise, not having expected to be rewarded when he’d never been so before. This time, he knew that it was deserved.

He wasn’t expecting a response from his teacher, so he wasn’t disappointed to see her making her notes and giving no sign if she was pleased. It was the applause of his peers that satisfied him. Rachel was on her feet, clapping so loudly that her hands would be hurting her in the morning. Analisa and the others were cheering him on, happily celebrating his accomplishment.

And the man that he loved, who stood unobtrusively in the back of the room… the light shining in Adam’s eyes told him everything he needed to know.

There was a strange buzzing in his had as Kurt took his seat, riding on the high of his performance. In the background, he could feel Rachel’s arms wrap around him and the pats on his shoulders from his classmates. He inhaled deeply, trying to regain his composure and focus on the next student called to stage.

When he glanced to the back of the room, Adam was gone, having quietly left so he wouldn’t distract from the other performances. Kurt couldn’t help from smiling, knowing that he would see Adam when they were done. In the meantime, he owed his classmates his attention.

It was late afternoon by the time the last student was finished and everyone was fairly well exhausted. Madam Tibideaux stood from her seat and gathered her notes under her arm as she looked over her students.

“I want to thank you all,” she proclaimed with her customary stateliness. “Not just for your work today, but for all your effort the past months. You’ll be getting your final grades and your written critiques next Friday. If you have any questions, please contact my secretary to schedule a meeting.”

For the first time all day, she allowed a smile to grace her features. “It has been a pleasure and a privilege to work with you all. I hope that you have a wonderful summer and to see you next semester.

“So without further ado… class dismissed.”

The students gave a collective sigh of relief that it was finally over. Once their august teacher had left the room, they gathered to hug one another, congratulating themselves for their hard work and having managed to survive.

Kurt kept his arm about Rachel as they took a few minutes to chat with their classmates, making sure to have one another’s contact information and making tentative plans to get together before they dispersed for summer jobs and trips home. There were hugs and a few tears before they started to drift their separate ways.

He looked down at his best friend, so proud of what she’d just done. “You were amazing,” he praised wholeheartedly, hugging her tight. “I’ve never heard you sing like that.”

Rachel blushed furiously at his praise. “What about you?” she demanded. “Oh my god… you were tremendous! I could totally see you playing Gabe. I had shivers running down my spine the entire time. And your take on the RENT song…”

She gave him a playful nudge. “You made me cry! Again!”

Kurt couldn’t help from laughing. “You were so fantastic” he praised, looking down at her face. She looked absolutely radiant. “I saw you up there. You didn’t just use your power and your voice was incredible.”

“I remembered what you told me,” she admitted. “And what they told me after my callback. I spent so much time trying to be the next Barbra that I forgot about trying to be the best Rachel.”

“Well, the best Rachel is pretty spectacular,” Kurt assured her. He couldn’t help from hugging her again. “I am so proud of you.”

She sniffled, fighting back happy tears. “I don’t think I can say how amazing you were. You were beautiful and powerful and I just loved every second of it. I knew that you had that in you.”

Kurt was reluctant to release her so they could gather their things and leave the room. He couldn’t resist one last glance about the space, feeling a lot of confidence that this wasn’t his last time performing there.

He and Rachel still had their arms about one another as they walked out of the Round Room, laughing and unable to stop praising one another. They were still riding on the buzz of their performances when a cool accented voice called out to them.

“Hey superstars,” Adam greeted cheerfully. “That was a hell of a show.”

Kurt released his grip on Rachel and flung himself into his boyfriend’s arms. The older man looked down at him lovingly, his hands trailing down Kurt’s back to hold him close.

“I can’t believe you snuck in,” Kurt reprimanded gently. “You could have gotten into trouble.”

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Adam insisted, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously. “Because I asked your Madam if she would very much mind of I peeked in to watch. I told her how sad I would be to miss you singing since I was graduating and wouldn’t have much chance to see you next year.”

He gave Kurt a coy smile. “I don’t know why you say she’s so fearsome, because she’s really a rather soft touch. Oh, she huffed a little bit but told me that if I wasn’t intrusive, I could watch. There was no way that I was going to miss this.”

“You really did that… just to see us,” Kurt marveled. To have someone go out of their way just to see him perform, however biased Adam’s opinion might be of Kurt’s talents, was a heady and novel experience.

“I’m glad I did,” Adam insisted. “Because I would have regretted missing that for the rest of my life.”

He looked down at his lover, the expression on his face full of wonderment. “I’ve thought that I’ve seen you at your best before, but you always manage to surprise me. That was… that was absolutely stunning.”

Kurt couldn’t help from kissing Adam, because it would have been perilously easy to lose his composure right then and there.

The Englishman turned to Rachel who was watching them in amusement. “You were wonderful too, Rachel,” he insisted. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you perform with that kind of emotion. It was absolutely glorious.”

She couldn’t help from smiling, knowing that Kurt’s boyfriend wasn’t inclined towards empty flattery. “Thanks,” she said sincerely. “I took a cue from my partner in crime here.”

Adam nodded approvingly, glad to see that Rachel opening herself up a bit. “Well, I think this deserves a bit of celebrating,” he proclaimed. He gathered Kurt under one arm and held out his other for Rachel to nestle in. “I think that dinner and a few drinks is in order. Because you two, my darlings, were spectacular.”

Kurt laughed and let Adam guide them out of the building. With their finals and critiques nearly finished, the school year was all but over. In a few days, they’d be done and looking forward to the summer. It felt like the world was wide open to them now and Kurt was ready to rush forward to meet it.

Rachel's critique solos: I'm Just a Girl Who Can't Say No - Oklahoma Send In The Clowns - A Little Night Music Someone To Watch Over Me - Oh, Kay!

Kurt's critique solos: With You - Pippin I'm Alive - Next to Normal One Song Glory - RENT

#kadam fic #kurt hummel #adam crawford #rachel berry #carmen tibideaux #nyada students #adam's apples #nyada #just breathe #can't believe that it's almost done

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