#My longest fic ever actually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

l8rs-gat0rs · 1 year

Note

we all saw how Steven was just entranced by Layla in the show 😭 so could you do a fic where he emotionally cheats on the reader, so when she finds out and confronts him he’s on his hands and knees begging her not to leave him, but she’s over him and leaves the apartment.

That’s all I got, you can’t choose the ending if you want

(Feel free to ignore if you’re not comfortable writing this)

The Mind Wanders

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

TW: Not completely sure, but the subject matter may trigger some people so I'm putting a warning in case because writing this fic did bring up shitty memories from a past toxic relationship.

(But pls don't feel bad abt requesting this anon, I loved writing it! It was so fun to create a story around your request, it really flexed my creative muscles to create a story with emotional depth like this. Also, I kinda played with the prompt a lil' bit, so she doesn't "find out" she knows, but she's in denial. I hope you're okay with that!)

Warning(s): ANGST. Emotional cheating, heartwarming fluff to cure your angsty pain <3 , Set in an AU before the events of the show, Third person, very minimal y/n use. Steven's redemption arc is told through his own POV.

Summary: you find out Steven's mind has been wandering. He's become quite entranced with another woman, and you won't stand for it. After you leave, Steven is determined to do anything, and everything to regain your trust.

Word count: 6.2k

Thank you, Anon for this request!!! <3

And credits to my dear friend Lina for helping me with this fic, and also being my proofreader. I had a little roadblock but she gave me amazing ideas for Steven's redemption arc :) her brain is amazing.

~~~~~~Enjoy!~~~~~~

You've been dating Steven long enough.

Long enough to know his tells.

Long enough to know he was lying when he said Layla was "just a friend" to him.

And that's how you got to where you are right now. Sitting at a bar downtown, drinking your feelings away.

Earlier...

You and Steven were at a coffee shop for a late afternoon coffee and tea that you suggested, just to get out of the house for a little. He was currently talking about the cutest kid that had shown up at his work.

"She was quite literally dressed as Sekhmet, and she was telling me about how she wanted to be a doctor!" Steven explained animatedly.

You smiled at the thought.

"She was absolutely adorable, I'll tell you that." He said before taking a sip of his tea.

"Yeah I'll bet she was," you chuckled.

Suddenly the bell on the coffee shop door rang and you noticed Steven immediately became attentive and sat straight up, staring at the person who just walked in.

Confused, you turned to see who it was and your face quickly turned emotionless with a hard stare. You turned back to Steven after seeing who it was.

"H-Hey, Layla!" Steven said, calling out to her name and waving.

Layla's head turned and her eyes lit up as she noticed Steven, promoted to make her way to our table.

"Oh, hey Steven!" she said with a bright smile.

You watched Steven's face, he gave her a crooked smile and blush painted his cheeks.

When Layla noticed you, she smiled kindly and greeted you as well, "Hi y/n".

You eyed Steven’s fiddling fingers, nearly forgetting to answer, doing your best to chalk his behavior up to the crowded atmosphere.

"Hey Layla" you replied, making sure to perfectly hide your discomposed state behind a small smile.

"What brings you here Layla?" Steven asked.

"I was just in the neighborhood for some archeology stuff and I saw this place, so I thought I'd stop in and grab some coffee," she explained.

"Interesting, what kind of archeology stuff?" Steven asked, looking at her as if she was the goddess Isis herself.

"Well, there were some old Egyptian artifacts recently dug up at a cemetery, so they've called for me to take them and bring them back to Egypt." She seemed excited about her task.

Steven, on the other hand, looked like someone had just kicked a puppy in front of him.

You felt like grabbing him and running out of the store with him, but of course, that would be childish, so you kept your mouth shut.

"Wait, you're going to Egypt? For how long?" Steven asked with a frown.

"A week." she said.

"Well, when are you leaving?" Steven asked, his disappointment showing through even as he tried to hide it.

"I've got a flight this Saturday actually, gotta take that Sunday to recover from the flight" she laughed.

Before Steven could say anything else, because he practically looked like he was about to beg her to take him with her, you spoke up.

"Wow, Layla that's so great! I'm really excited for you, I know you love Egypt." you said supportively.

She smiled gratefully.

"I love Egypt too!" Steven interjected, causing your jaw to clench.

Layla giggled, causing Steven to look like he just won the jackpot.

"Yeah, I do love Egypt, I'm glad to be going back. Thanks y/n" she said kindly.

You nodded in acknowledgment, your jaw still locked, afraid that if you opened your mouth your emotions would blow up at Steven.

"Well I've got to go, but it was nice to see you both, I'll see you around," she waved at both of you before getting in line to order her coffee.

You both waved back, Steven admittedly way more animated than you, watching Layla go to the counter to order her coffee.

"Oh she's just the best isn't she? Wow, Egypt!" He exclaimed, turning back to his tea.

"Yeah, it's really cool." you said half-heartedly.

But of course, Steven didn't seem to notice anything was wrong at all, and he continued to talk about Egypt and Layla the rest of the time you were there.

You didn't hate Layla, you knew it wasn't her fault that Steven seemed to be entranced by her. Hell, she seemed as oblivious to Steven's feelings as he was to yours.

Steven had met Layla last month, when she was visiting the museum he worked at, checking out the artifacts in the ancient Egyptian exhibit. Steven introduced her to you that very same day and it didn't bother you at first, how much he talked about her. You knew he was just happy he found someone who shared his interest in ancient Egypt, you were even happy for him. On the rare occasion you three hung out, she was a great friend to you as well. But then you started to see the signs.

The way he would have stars in his eyes when he talked to her, or even about her. The way that whenever he looked at her, he looked at her like she was the only person on earth. When he listened to her speak, he was hanging onto every single word she said.

He never explicitly cheated, of course, Steven would never do that, he wouldn't even hurt a fly. At least not with intention.

He was still charming towards you and the two of you acted like a couple. There was never anything wrong, even physically.

But whenever Layla came into the mix, you became a third wheel.

The two of you left the coffee shop eventually, the sun was setting and there was a chill of winter breeze though the streets of London.

You walked together back to Steven's flat, which you had been living in for around two months now.

You smiled fondly as Steven talked in the background while you remembered the day he asked you to move in with him. It was on your 10-month anniversary, he had been so nervous he was practically shaking. You remember thinking it was a bit fast to move in, but then again,

It was Steven.

so of course you said yes.

He was still your Steven. You turned to him and smiled as he glanced at you, holding your hand with the cutest smile on his face.

The two of you took the elevator up to his flat and you entered together, Steven closing the door behind you, and locking it.

"So what would you like for dinner, lovely?" He asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek before moving to the kitchen.

"Hmmm, I don't know, surprise me." You said teasingly.

"Will do, one special surprise dinner coming right up!" Steven said excitedly, getting to work in the kitchen.

You giggled at how adorable he was as you hung your scarf up with your coat.

"Sit down and relax, I'll do all the work, don't you worry!" Steven moved, putting a pot of water on the stove to boil.

"Alright Mr.Grant, I'll be waiting right here on the couch." You smiled, taking your shoes off and plopping down on the couch.

He looked at you with a huge smile before turning back to grab some things out of the fridge.

You smiled and turned on Netflix to watch your current favorite show.

About 1 episode in, Steven was finally finished with dinner.

"Alright, your special surprise dinner is ready!" He called, waving you over with his hand.

"Ooooo let's see what we have here" you wiggled your fingers after getting up from the couch and turning the tv off.

"Et Voilà!" Steven presented the plates to you.

"Wowww! Spaghetti and meatballs, real fancy!" You mockingly made fun.

"Yeah, but I bet it's the best spaghetti and meatballs you'll ever taste!" He chided.

"Well I'll be the judge of that." You joked, walking toward the table that was by the stove.

Steven moved to sit across from you. He watched you carefully as you got a slice of meatball before wrapping the spaghetti around the fork and bringing it to your mouth.

You chewed in silence for a little bit, hiding your reaction to how good it tasted.

"So? How is it?" Steven asked nervously.

"Mmmm" you looked up at the ceiling, finger to your chin, pretending to think.

He looked at you with hopeful eyes and you couldn't help the smile that broke your insightful thinking face.

"Steven, it's absolutely delicious." You said with a cheeky smile.

His face lit up into a wondrous smile and your heart melted.

"Wow, I'm so glad you like it!" He said before digging into his own plate.

The two of you continued dinner with some light small talk in between bites until you heard Steven's phone ding with a text notification.

You immediately recognized the different text tone and your soft smile disappeared as Steven immediately stuck his hand in his pocket and fetched his phone out.

He unlocked it and his eyes grew into big circles and he smiled.

"Wow Layla just sent me a picture of a gold scarab beetle that was found at the cemetery!" Steven excitedly texted Layla back.

You stared at him in silence as you watched him grinning, followed by a chuckle, and more texting.

Your eyes glanced at his half eaten plate of food and your rage started to boil over.

You couldn't take it anymore.

You threw your fork onto your plate, the silverware clanging loudly, causing Steven to jump and stare at you with wide eyes and a frown.

"Love?" He asked softly as he watched your face cautiously.

"Steven, I can't do this anymore." You told him seriously.

"Do what?" He asked, alarm quickly spreading across his features.

"This. With you. Us." You said.

"Wha- Why!?" He exclaimed.

"Steven, you don't see me! I'm right here, and you can't even see me!" You yelled exasperatedly.

"What do you mean!? I see you!" He said, desperately trying to understand what you meant.

He reached for your hand but you swiped it away from him and got up from the table abruptly.

Steven flinched before standing as well.

"No you don't Steven. All you see is Layla." You said bitterly.

Tears burned your eyes as they threatened to spill, the words you had been thinking for months finally coming out of your mouth, and you held back those hot angry tears as you listened to them as if you were outside of your own body.

"Wha- I- no!" Steven denied, stuttering between you and his phone.

"Yes you do. I'm sitting here eating dinner with you and you're texting Layla. We're at the coffee shop, you see Layla, and she's all you can talk about. We could be having a random conversation, and you will bring up Layla!" You let out in frustration.

He stared at you dumbly and that made you even more angry.

You made your way to the door quickly, when Steven tried to grab your hand, you looked at him with a deadly stare and he took a firm hold on your arm.

"Let. Go. Of. Me." You said sharply.

"Lovey, please. You're making a mistake!" He begged.

You snatched your arm out of his hands and glared at him.

"Trust me I'm not, and don't fucking call me that anymore. I'm not going to stay in a relationship that I'm not appreciated in. You're already acting like you're dating Layla, so you might as well make it official." Your words laced with venom.

Steven flinched again and you continued,

"I tried to ignore it for so long, but I can't ignore it any longer Steven. I can't ignore the fact that you make me feel invisible!" You vocalized your rage, causing your words to crack near the end. You turned on your heel, putting your jacket and scarf on.

"Y/n please!" Steven sobbed, and you turned around, shocked to see him on his hands and knees.

"Steven get up!" You exclaimed.

No matter how angry you were at him, it broke your heart seeing him like this.

He sat up onto his knees and put his hands into the prayer position, looking up at you with tears in his eyes.

"Please don't go! Please, I promise Layla is just a friend! Y/n please, I need you, I-I can't lose you!" He begged through his tears.

Your heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces.

You turned back around, no longer able to look at him and you reached your hand out, gripping the door handle.

"No! No no no no y/n please don't go! Give me one more chance! I'll be better!" Steven said, fully sobbing at this point.

You gripped the door handle tighter and shut your eyes tightly without giving another glance, only able to think of all the times Steven had made you feel less important than Layla.

You opened your eyes as you opened the door, hearing his sobs, pleas, and shuddering breaths grow louder.

"I'm sorry Steven, but we're over." You said coldly before you walked out the door, slamming it behind you.

You quickly sped down the hallway and got into the elevator.

When the door closed your fully tensed body sagged and you held your head in your hands and sighed deeply.

You wiped your face before opening the Uber app and calling a car.

Presently...

So yeah. That's why you're currently on your 4th drink, looking down into your cup as if it was the most interesting thing on the planet.

Your mind wandered back to Steven, the imagine of him begging you not to leave while on his hands and his knees.

You shut your eyes painfully and shook your head.

There was a time where you believed that Steven could never hurt you. His warm, innocent eyes and gentle, nervous touches made you feel safe.

You opened your eyes and scoffed at your foolishness.

He had just been too good to be true, and you should have seen it.

You glanced at your phone,

Dammit it was getting late, but your stuff was at Steven's apartment, and there was no way in hell you were going back there.

Your eyes lit up as you remembered you kept some stuff over at your best friends Rachel and Chloe's house due to your frequent sleepovers.

You went into your contacts and dialed Chloe's number.

"Hey babes, It's been a while!" Chloe said when she picked up.

You smiled softly at the sound of her Glaswegian accent through the phone.

"Hey chlo' do you think I can stay with you and Rae for a little bit?" You said sadly, embarrassed to even be asking.

"Of course love! RAE! GET THE GUEST ROOM READY, Y/N IS STAYING OVER!" You heard her scream.

"Thanks so much Chloe" you chuckled.

"Of course, you're always welcome here!" She exclaimed.

"And one more thing?" You whispered sheepishly.

"Sure," she said, egging you on to continue speaking.

"Can you come pick me up from the bar downtown that we usually go to? I'm kiiiiinda drunk." You asked, apologetic.

"Oh god, we'll be there in 5" Chloe replied before hanging up.

You snorted and let your head fall against the bar, waiting for them to come pick you up.

You lifted your head for a second to pay and tip the bartender, before you laid your head back down after letting the bartender know you were waiting for your friends to come pick you up.

He took your money, thanked you for the tip, and nodded in acknowledgement, telling you to get home safe then moved on to serve another customer.

Chloe and Rae texted you when they arrived in front of the bar and you stumbled out.

You opened the door, and collapsed into the seat before shutting the door behind you.

You threw your head back and groaned.

"Jesus you look like absolute shit." Rae said, turning around in her seat to look at you.

"Did something happen with Steven?" Chloe asked, acknowledging you through the rear view mirror.

"Just drive," you groaned.

You told them what had happened with Steven during the car ride and they listened sympathetically.

"I told you to break up with him sooner, he's a proper bag of shit." Rae said.

You shook your head and sighed, going quiet for the rest of the ride. Your friends respected your silence.

When you got to their house, they brought you to your room and you noticed they left you a fresh set of clean pajamas to wear.

"God, I love you guys!" You yelled through the door.

"Yup!" You heard Chloe say and you giggled before changing your clothes.

When you came out of the room you saw 3 small tubs of ice cream with 3 different colored spoons in them on the coffee table in front of the tv, Chloe and Rae beacons you over to the couch.

You plopped down in between them and pulled them into a group hug.

"I fuckin love you guys, you know that right?" You said sincerely.

"Yeah we know." Rae teased, causing the three of you to chuckle.

"Now what are we watching!" Chloe announced once the three of you pulled away from the hug.

....

The next couple of days were rough, but you got through them. You had gone back to Steven's apartment while he was at work and gathered some clothes and your important things. You'd come back for the other stuff later.

Steven surprisingly did not try to contact you but you did notice his flat seemed to be even more messy than usual. You also noted the several crumpled-up sheets of paper that you were pretty sure you knew the contents of. You shook your head sadly, trying not to feel bad for him. He was the one who hurt you, and the best thing for you now was to just move on and heal from it.

You grabbed your car keys, locked the door behind you and picked the boxes up before taking them back into your car, driving back to your temporary residence.

You silently cursed yourself for selling your old flat, but you couldn't keep paying rent for a place you didn't even live at. You thought you and Steven were in it for the long haul.

You got back to Chloe and Rae's place and brought the boxes to your room.

You sat on your bed with a sigh and started unpacking.

Steven's Pov

Steven walked into his flat and sighed at its emptiness. He missed seeing you smile at him and get up from your laptop to greet him and give him a kiss.

It had been approximately a week since you had stormed out of his apartment. He removed his coat and after placing his work bag down, he paused for a second to look around before he realized...

You had been here while he was at work, and took most of your stuff with you.

Tears started to well up in his eyes once again.

He took his shoes off and walked over to his bed with his shoulders sagged, then stepped over the ring of sand so he could lay down.

He remembered the first time you came to his apartment. He had thought of so many excuses to tell you when you would inevitably ask about the sand around his bed, as well as the ankle restraint.

When you finally set foot into his apartment, he went into full panic mode and started a word vomit.

You had stopped him before his head exploded and said you didn't care about anything weird he did because it didn't define him. You didn't care if he had a sleeping condition, or if there were books covering every possible surface of his flat. You promised him that day, you would never judge him.

He stared at his ceiling as the tears rolled down the side of his eyes and into his hairline.

You had always seen him, and you had made him feel that way.

Seen.

He thought back to what you said the day you left:

"Steven, you don't see me! I'm right here, and you can't even see me!"

His eyes were blurry as more tears welled up.

He hated himself for making you feel that way, he couldn't believe he didn't see he was hurting you.

He scoffed at himself,

it's been a week and he's still crying over you.

He sat up, wiping his eyes.

He looked around again and remembered the whole week it had taken for you and Steven to clean up his flat so it could be in the state that it was currently in.

You had told him to stop apologizing over 50 times as the two of you organized all his books so they were no longer scattered over every surface.

You had done so much for Steven without him ever even asking.

His heart ached as he glanced at the empty space in his bed where you used to sleep, right next to him every night.

He hadn't bothered to contact you in fear of you blocking him.

His phone buzzed and he quickly checked it desperately to see if you texted him.

It was Layla.

He frowned and put his phone back down, not bothering to check her text.

He hadn't meant to make it seem like he was interested in Layla, she was just the first person he ever met that shared his interest in the things he was most passionate about.

You didn't happen to be as passionate, but you also shared Steven's interests in Ancient Egyptian mythology. In fact that was how the two of you met, at the museum.

Almost the same exact way as how he met Layla.

His heart felt heavy, here he was, comparing the two of you. He was such a bloody knob.

You deserved so much better.

He could be better.

He furrowed his brows,

but how was he supposed to tell you or show you that?

He had no clue where you were even staying because he remembered you told him you sold your flat after you moved in with him.

Guilt wracked his whole body.

He thought hard about hotels in the area-

Wait.

Your best friends!

Steven grabbed his phone and checked his texts between the two of you.

He scrolled up until he saw you mention them, you had asked him to pick you up from their house when you were drunk.

He blushed heavily as he remembered what happened that night after he picked you up.

There, you had sent him the address!

He copied the address from your text and input it into his GPS.

You were staying only a couple miles from him.

The next day, Steven put on his best button up and went to the shop. He bought a stuffed animal Paddington the bear since he remembered Paddington was your favorite movie, also the reason you moved to London. He also bought a small bag of your favorite chocolates.

As Steven made his way to your current residence at your friend's place, he kept going over what he planned to say to you.

When the Uber finally arrived he was shocked out of his thoughts when the driver announced they had arrived at his destination.

He thanked them and got out, grabbing the gifts and clutching them tightly as he stared at the house that you were hopefully in.

He felt sweaty but he was determined to show you he changed.

He made his way up to the house and gingerly knocked on the door.

One of your friends opened the door.

…Which one was this?

Right, Chloe!

"H-Hello Chloe, is y/n here?" He said looking past her, trying to see inside the house.

She glared at him and covered the open space with the door, blocking his view.

"No, she's not actually, and even if she was, she doesn't want to see you anymore, so don't come here again." She said, whispering angrily at him.

Steven frowned.

"Who's at the door Chlo'?" Steven heard the sound of your melodic voice hit Steven's ears and he perked up, his eyes widening.

"It's NO ONE, just a salesman," Chloe replied, making sure Steven knew he was not welcome.

"Don't come back here again Steven, or you'll regret it." she whisper-snapped to him again.

"Why'd you say 'no one' like that?" Steven heard you say before Chloe shut the door in his face.

Steven deflated and sighed.

He would have to think of something else.

Your pov

"Because, it was no one, now get back to writing, or whatever you're doing. That's what you do for your job right?" she said, dismissing you.

"Okay mom!" you relented, rolling your eyes.

She went to the bathroom to get ready for work, and you quickly put your laptop down and ran to the window to see who was at the door.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you saw Steven, walking dejectedly down the street holding a teddy bear and what you could tell was a bag of your favorite chocolates.

Alright, maybe it was better Chloe didn't let you talk to him, what would you even say to him?

Even the thought of talking to Steven was too painful for you so you shoved it down and went back to writing.

....

A few days later, you were on your laptop getting some work done. You started to feel hungry, so you decided to grab a snack. Chloe and Rae were both at work, but they would be home in one-two hours, and you would all have dinner together.

Rae promised she was bringing home burgers and fries tonight so you didn't have to cook.

To say you were excited was an understatement.

You carefully gathered the ingredients to make yourself a quesadilla.

You hummed to your current favorite song that's been stuck in your head for a while now as you prepared your food.

Once you were done, you cleaned up after yourself and took your food to your bedroom to eat it. (Chloe and Rae didn't need to know)

You were sitting up against the headboard, scrolling through your phone when you heard a knock at the window.

Your heart was beating in your chest as you heard it again, more rapidly and you turned to look at the window.

There was a shadow of a person behind the curtain.

You slowly put your plate on the side table and grabbed scissors out of a jar with pencils and pens.

You held it in a stabbing position as you made your way towards the window slowly, terror gripping your heart, while the person on the other side rapidly banged their knuckles against the window.

You breathed in slowly and closed your eyes before opening them and quickly pulling the curtain away and raising the scissors in a stabbing motion.

Your eyes widened and you gasped as you saw Steven hanging on for dear life to the side ledges of the window.

You quickly dropped the scissors and opened the window.

"Steven what the fuck!? how did you even get up here?" you shouted, staring at him in shock.

"Well, I did climb up the pipeline but In retrospect that was a terrible idea once I got this far up to your window." he said, looking at you in fear.

He looked down at his feet trying to secure his footing but his foot slipped and he wobbled, his eyes going fully round.

"Oh shi-!" He said, losing his balance,

before he could fall backward your reflexes kicked in and you grabbed his arm pulling him inside your room, causing him to topple inside and on top of you.

You both stared at each other with wide eyes as he was on all fours, hands and legs on either side of your head and body.

Your breathing slowed and you found yourself getting lost in Steven's round puppy dog eyes as the shock wore off.

You suddenly became hyperaware of the position you were in and your body heated up as you started to blush heavily, you noticed the same happened to Steven.

"Oh, uhhh, lemme just-" you started rambling and shifting and he mumbled some words of an apology as he scrambled to get off of you.

Once you got up, you stood a couple steps away from Steven and stared at him as he took the backpack he was wearing off.

You just watched him silently as he took out the same stuffie of paddington and bag of chocolates from the other day.

He held them out to you and stared at you, silently pleading you to take them.

You did, placing them on your bed.

Steven shuffled nervously on his feet and you crossed your arms with furrowed brows.

"Steven, I just, I have so many questions." You said angrily.

He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

"One, why are you here? Two, how did you even know this was my room? And three, how did you know I was even in here?" You asked, exasperatedly.

You could see from his face that a million different thoughts were running through his head before he spoke up.

"Okay, well, I'm here because I need to talk to you. I knew this was your room and you were in here because I came here another time. And I waited till Chloe and Rachel went to work so I could actually talk to you, then I tried to knock on the door but Chloe forgot her bag and came back so I hid, then l heard the two of you talking because the window was open and Chloe said "well, this is your room" and I knew you were in here today because I saw you close the curtains when I got here." He quickly jumbled all of his answers together.

"Oh, and I didn't come through the door because... well... I wanted to surprise you. You know, be all romantic and stuff." He added sheepishly.

You just stared at him appalled.

"A-And I know I probably sound insane!" he said quickly after seeing your reaction.

"Yeah, you do. And you need to leave Steven." You said pointedly.

"No y/n! you need to understand, I did this all for you! because I can't live without you!" he tried explaining desperately.

Your hardened expression softened a bit but you stayed quiet.

Steven looked relieved when he noticed you let him speak, and he cleared his throat to look at you.

"y/n I'm so sorry I hurt you and made you feel the way I did. I didn't mean to, honestly! I was just so excited when I met Layla because she was an archeologist and she was interested in ancient Egypt and she's passionate about it just like me. So excited that I might have been too blind to see how I was hurting you. I'm so sorry that I ever made you feel unseen. I could never love Layla like I love you. These past few weeks without you have been hell. The flat feels so cold and empty. I smell your perfume on the sheets but you're not there when I go to bed or wake up. Your smile used to make my whole world shine and it's been dark ever since you left. And I know you deserve way better than me, I was a total knob, but if you will have me back y/n, I promise, for the rest of my life, I will make it my mission, to make you feel happy every day, even on the worst days. And feel free to tell me to bugger off, I'll understand and I'll never contact you again I promise. You know, if you love someone let them go, and all that."

The whole time he spoke he was looking into your eyes until his last two sentences. He was hoping so desperately that you would hear, see, and feel the sincerity in his words. You could tell. Honestly, you were just surprised he didn't stutter that entire time. But you could tell by the fact that he couldn't look at you when he said it, how painful it was for him to think you could reject him.

Again, you had dated long enough,

Long enough to know his tells,

Long enough to know he was telling the truth about everything he told you just now.

And you knew he was willing to accept the fact that he could lose you.

For you.

He was still the same puppy-eyed man who came up behind you to explain the hieroglyphs on a pillar you were looking at, just to impress you.

He was still the man who apologized to his fish when he bumped into the tank.

He was still, your Steven.

you looked down and your feet and let out a small chuckle at your thoughts.

When you looked back up at Steven, you saw he was positively beaming.

"God I've missed that beautiful melody." He said softly, tears forming in his eyes.

You smiled, your own tears forming as he walked closer to you, slowly.

You smiled, two streaks running down your face as you noticed his tears fall from his eyes.

When he stood directly in front of you, he put one hand on your cheek and held it there. His touch was so fragile, as though he thought if he held you too hard, you might break.

"Can I hug you?" He asked softly.

You nodded and he wrapped his arms around you.

You reciprocated the hug, slowing your breathing, trying to control your tears.

Steven hurt you, and he realized his mistake, nearly too late. But here he was now. doing everything in his power to rectify his mistake, promising you that he would never make you feel that way ever again. Shit, he almost fell from the 2nd floor trying to apologize.

You squeezed him tighter, and he squeezed you back.

"Thank you Steven" you whispered.

When the two of you slowly pulled away from each other, your tears finally stopped, and so had Steven's.

He wiped your tears away gently.

"Don't thank me y/n, I shouldn't have given myself a reason to apologize in the first place." He said with his hands still cupping your face.

After a beat of silence, he finally spoke up.

"So does this mean you'll move back in with me?" Steven asked hopefully.

You laughed, causing a smile to spread across Steven's face.

"Just shut up and kiss me." grabbing his face, you pressed your lips to his.

He gladly shut up and kissed you back, melting into you, you even felt his body press closer to you. You felt the dried tears on his cheeks against your face.

When you pulled away, you were both slightly panting for air, and Steven pressed his forehead to yours, holding your hands in his.

You both closed your eyes and stayed like that for a while.

When the two of you pulled away from each other you turned, looking at the things he bought you.

You held his hand and led him to your bed, sitting down next to them.

You picked up the bear and smiled at it.

"You remembered how much I love Paddington." you said, turning to look at him.

He smiled fondly at you and nodded.

"The little bear that brought you to me."

Your heart practically melted.

You put the Paddington bear down and picked up the bag of chocolates.

"And you remembered my favorite" you grinned at him, holding up the bag.

"Of course, I can never forget the beautiful noises you make every time you eat one of those." he said, blushing immediately after he said it.

"You felt your face heat up as well and you hid your face in your hands, smiling sheepishly.

You felt his hands gently grab your hands to move them away from your face.

You felt yourself get lost in Steven's eyes, the color of them matching your favorite chocolate. Reminding you that coincidentally, Steven had the power to make those same noises come from your mouth.

You were so close you could feel Steven's breath on your lips.

Suddenly you heard the door open and you both jumped back from each other.

"y/n!!!" you heard Chloe call your name, dragging it out.

"We're home! and we bought the food!" you heard Rae say excitedly.

"Shit!" you jumped up from the bed, causing Steven to the same.

"Okay, okay uhhhhh" you said quickly looking around.

"I'll talk to them first, so they don't jump you, and then I'll call you downstairs, okay?" you said quickly with your hands on his shoulders.

"Okay, I got it." Steven nodded.

"Alright great" you said rushing to open the door.

"Y/n!" Steven whisper-yelled your name causing you to pause and turn around.

"Yeah?" you whisper-yelled back.

"I love you." He reminded with a small smile.

You almost physically melted at his cuteness.

"I love you too."

You closed the door softly as you heard Chloe call your name again as she looked for you.

“Coming!”

#steven grant x you #steven grant #moon knight fanfic #layla el faouly #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x reader #fluff #angst!!!#lots of emotions tbh #Sorry this took so long anon!#I hope you like it!#My longest fic ever actually #anon #fanfic request #fanfiction #fanfic #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac characters #ugh this was so fun to write

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thegirlwithmanynames · 1 year

Text

fatherhood

It’s been a long time since Claire Novak had parents. That’s just the way the world works; some kids grow up in a loving family, spoiled by mommy and daddy until their teeth rot out of their skulls, and some kids’ moms and dads get creatively murdered by feathery jackasses of the Lord. Nothing to see here - life goes on, and the world keeps slowly turning.

Except for when Claire gets an unexpected visit from a stranger, and everything falls apart.

a study of Castiel and Claire, largely inspired by 15x15 Gimme Shelter.

read on ao3

She’s a cobra, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Just one more second and she’ll have it right where she wants it, prey perfectly lined up for the kill. Just one more second, and she’ll be home free.

A melody rings out in the darkness, and a bright white light illuminates her position.

“Fuck,” Claire Novak curses under her breath – as if trying to be quiet will help her now that her goddamn phone’s given her away. The vamp she’s been watching snarls as it turns towards her, and her ringtone won’t stop fucking ringing, and her phone’s buttons are slipperier than they’ve ever been, her fingers fumbling to decline the call as she scrambles to her feet.

“Hello? Claire, honey, is that you?”

Fuck. As if her luck could get any worse.

“Mommy’s worried about you, huh, sweetheart? Better say your goodbyes now before I drink you dry,” the vamp sneers, showing its teeth. It’s gaining ground, nearly blocking the abandoned warehouse’s rickety doors.

What a goddamn disaster.

“Do you need backup?” comes Jody’s urgent question over the line, all business now. Never mind that Claire’s a state away and can handle this on her own, thank you very much, and would have been out by now if Jody hadn’t called in the first place.

“Don’t have time to talk right now, Jody,” she replies, eyes trained on the vamp that’s now listening in with a dangerous and amused smirk on its face. It lopes toward her slowly, confident, predator chasing prey. Claire’s machete weighs heavy on her back.

“Ooh, on first name terms, are we?” it taunts. “Maybe Mommy won’t miss you so much after all.”

The words still sting, even if in not the way the vamp intends. It’s been so long since she’s deliberately thought of her mother, how Amelia left, how they found each other, how she –

Well. Not important now.

“Not like anyone’s going to miss you either, bloodsucker,” she counters, and takes a step closer.

“Wanna bet?” The vamp grins, all monster, baring its teeth at Claire’s forward movement and taking its own step toward her in response.

“Claire,” Jody’s voice warns.

The exit’s blocked now. No way out but through.

Claire knows what she needs to do.

“Try me,” she says, and the vamp’s eyes glint in the faint moonlight coming through the warehouse windows.

“Who are you, little girl?” it lilts, amused. It takes one step forward, and Claire tenses. “You’re nothing, nobody. Mommy and Daddy aren’t here to save you. It’s just you and me.”

Her heartbeat pounds in her ears, sickeningly loud. There might as well be lead in her arms. Her face is on fire.

Taunting, the vamp takes another step, baring its teeth once more. “And all I see is dinner. So tell me, bitch. Who the fuck are you?”

Quicker than she’d have thought possible, the fire spreads through her body, burning through the lead in her muscles, setting her heart aflame. Fuck strategy. Fuck everything except sending this bloodsucker to hell, where it belongs.

It happens in a flash. The machete makes a satisfying sound as it hits bone on its way through neck, and the vamp’s head rolls away from its body with its horrifying smirk still on its lips. She’ll have to wash the blood from her hair later, she notes absently. Her muscles are still taut, rage still beating a steady pulse through her body.

“I’m Claire Novak,” she spits. Her machete shakes in her hand. “I’m the one who kills you.”

***

The blood rushing through her ears takes another few moments to subside, and when it does, Claire realizes dimly that the faint tinny noises splitting the air aren’t actually faint at all.

“Claire! Claire, are you okay?! Claire, answer me!”

Jody’s voice sounds frantic. It grounds her, slowing her heartbeat to a more acceptable rhythm. A worried Jody is a completely different kind of beast to conquer. Claire isn’t sure she’d be able to handle that right now.

And besides. Jody shouldn’t have to worry about her.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Claire mumbles, switching the machete to her left hand so she can push the right through her blood-matted hair. Still holding up pretty well, she thinks – her own curler never stands up this well to a hunt. She’d plan to thank Alex when she gets back, except Alex didn’t exactly know that Claire had stolen her curler to do her hair that morning, so that option’s out. Maybe she’ll log into Alex’s account and leave the company a review.

Great product!!! Love the way I can go through my whole day and my curls never deflate. My hair holds up great after salt-and-burns, butchering vamps, shooting werewolves, and even killing the nastiest ghouls. Five stars!!

She snorts lightly, shaking her head at the idea. Thankfully, Jody doesn’t pick up on it.

“You’d better be fine,” Jody says through the line, firm now, the anxiety gone from her voice. Claire knows better, though. Jody’s had to get good at hiding it, but Claire worries her. She hates it and loves it and hates that she loves it at all. Guilt caves her chest in just a little bit. “Did you forget our agreement? Or did you decide that we’re beyond writing a quick text letting each other know where we’ll be before heading off on a hunt?”

“Well, it’s not like you ever text me to let me know,” she snaps, but even with the annoyance in her voice, the bite isn’t there. It’s habit now, like double-checking her weapons before heading out. She knows that Jody knows she doesn’t mean it.

I’m okay, she thinks in Jody’s direction. I’m safe.

“I may not text you, but I sure as hell do text Donna – ”

“So I’ll text Kaia, then,” she says. Her voice wavers upwards just slightly, just enough to give away her grin. “Or Alex. Ooh, or maybe Patience. Sound good?”

“All right, smartass,” Jody replies, and Claire can hear the smile break through her voice too. Score. “This conversation’s not over, okay? We’ll get to it when you get back. Where are you now?”

“Lincoln,” she says, pulling her phone from her ear and bringing up Google Maps, “but it’s late, and Google says it’ll be three and a half hours, so I’ll probably stay in a motel tonight and head back in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan. You’ll keep me posted on the way back?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves her machete dismissively, even though Jody can’t see it. Pressing her head hard to her phone to keep it shoved between her shoulder and ear, she finally sheathes the weapon against her hip. With a sneer back at the vamp’s disembodied head, she turns on her heel to face her original hiding place. “Any reason you called in the first place, Jody? Or did you just want to turn my hunt up to hard mode?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she winces. Maybe not the nicest way to phrase it. Jody’s been good to her. Claire’s not as young as she used to be. Time to grow up.

“’Cause it didn’t work – still easy as pie. Nothing to worry about.”

Nice save, Novak.

“Har har,” Jody answers sarcastically, but her voice doesn’t sting with hurt, so Claire figures she’s in the clear. Slinging her bag over her back, she heads out toward the creaking warehouse doors. “Nothing big, just, uh. We’ll be having a visitor! Tomorrow, actually! He’ll probably be here before you get back, depending on when you’ll get in.”

“Uh-huh,” she says absent-mindedly, pushing through the doors with some effort. God, she’s tired. “You can just say Dean’s coming by to detox – ”

It’s still raw to think about why Dean’s been drinking so much lately, so she steadfastly doesn’t, and the sentence ends there. Her eyes dart to her car, parked and safe in the bushes not far away. Just like any other hunt. Everything’s normal.

“It’s, uh, actually not Dean.”

“So, Sam? Is he bringing Eileen?” Claire’s been dying to meet her ever since she’d heard about her, but, well, God had sort of gotten in the way. Still, she’d been brushing up on her ASL, even if it was a little more basic than she’d have liked. She always loved trading hunting stories with other badass girls on the road.

“It’s not Sam either,” Jody says, slowly, and for the first time, Claire picks up on a note of hesitation in her voice. She’s stalling. Why is she stalling?

“Who’s coming, Jody?”

Her car keys nearly slip from her hands at Jody’s answer.

When Claire’s fingers clumsily fumble the catch, the blare of the car’s alarm drowns out any other coherent thought, numbing her for the whole drive over to the motel. Check-in, payment, settling in. Static in her limbs all along the way, body asleep but still moving, no better than a stumbling corpse.

Her body – unclean, disheveled, alone, empty – occupies the space atop the covers of the single bed. Claire Novak is nowhere to be found.

She closes her eyes, but the static only grows louder.

---

The trip back to Sioux Falls is definitely somewhere in the top ten worst drives Claire’s ever taken.

Usually, the long drive is half of what makes a hunt so exciting. In a house with anywhere between two and ten other people in it at any given time, a drive is a chance to hear yourself think. Or not think, if it’s been that kind of a week. Just Claire and the open road; a hand on the wheel, the wind tossing her hair back over the seat, singing along to whatever playlist best suits the vibes of the trip.

But this time? She might as well pick up some hitchhiking penguins for how much it’s the polar opposite.

Three and a half hours pass, silent except for the sound of the engine. Landscapes streak past her windows, but Claire just drives, watching the road and not seeing a thing.

The longer it goes, the louder the static becomes; first in her hands, then spreading up her arms, in her chest, in her head. This time, though, it doesn’t numb her. Instead, her fingers tap a disjointed, nervous beat against the wheel; her breaths come uneven and ragged as she fights against the growing tightness in her chest; the grinding of her teeth rivals the engine for volume in her head.

It’s only when she pulls onto Jody’s street that she realizes that she’s even made it to Sioux Falls in the first place. The familiar environment isn’t even the giveaway – it’s the Impala, parked unassumingly in the driveway, that does it.

What?!

Claire slams the brakes, parking less than gracefully in front of the house. Jody might kill her for it later, but it’s not like that’s gonna make a difference if she’s going down swinging in about ten minutes anyway.

Wonder if Patience could tell me exactly how long it’ll take before everything goes to hell.

“Where is he?” she demands as the door swings open. Jody turns to look at her from her spot at the kitchen sink.

“Well, hi to you too,” she shoots back, but Claire can tell that she’s not feeling it. It’s habit, saying the words because she always does. Jody’s eyes are too full of pity, and Claire doesn’t need anyone’s fucking charity, and the explosion feels like it’s already happened and it’s just racing toward them like shockwaves from a bomb.

Alex, dishtowel in hand, looks between them knowingly and shrugs as she makes to leave. She doesn’t say a single word, which is just fucking like her, until she claps Claire on the back as she heads up the stairs.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Rambo.”

“Shut up, Nurse Piccolo,” Claire shoots back reflexively, and finally closes the door behind her as she heads further into the house. Her eyes dart to the living room as she passes, but it’s empty. “Where is he, Jody?”

“Out back,” Jody finally relents, tilting her head toward the window. Before Claire can even think about moving to head out, though, Jody’s firm hand lands hard on her shoulder, grounding her in place. It rankles, her muscles immediately tensing defensively. What gives her the fucking right? “Claire, try to remember it’s not his fault. He just wants to talk. Just hear him out, all right? Hear what he’s got to say.”

Her blood rushes in her ears, white noise growing louder and louder.

“Great pep talk, but in case you haven’t noticed, you’re not actually my mom.” Her voice is rough and dry as sandpaper. She feels like she’s running cold and sweating bullets all at the same time. “I can handle this myself, thanks.”

She ducks and gives a hard jerk forward, ripping herself out from under Jody’s hand.

Alone, a voice whispers in her ear as she stalks out the door and slams it behind her.

The figure in the back garden is crouched down, looking at the dead flowerbed where Jody, Kaia, and Donna planted chrysanthemums this past spring. Back when Kaia had just come back from the bad place, and Claire’s heart had been full to bursting as she leaned against the side of the house and watched them work. Back when everything was good, she’d gotten a semblance of her life back, and she didn’t have any of this shit tearing her apart any time she so much as breathed.

His fingers brush the dried leaves almost reverently as he stands, and Claire snaps like a broken rubber band.

“What are you even doing here?” she says coldly, folding her hands over her chest.

The figure turns, and for the first time since she’d heard about his very existence, Claire sees the face of Lucifer’s bouncing baby bundle of joy staring back at her.

He’s smaller than she expected, only a few inches taller than her – less, even, in her combat boots. His hands are fidgeting now, pulling at the bottom of his jacket like he’s trying to make a good impression on the first day of kindergarten. He’s even dressed like a fucking Winchester, all the layers minus the flannel, like he’s trying to prove a point.

But the most infuriating fucking thing is that he’s standing there, innocent as a goddamn baby, and all she sees are Dad’s eyes looking back at her. Dad’s eyes, and Castiel’s stupid, unwarranted concern in the lines of his face.

And isn’t that just the fucking cherry on top?

Her fist moves before she even has the chance to process what’s happening. But – surprise, surprise – he catches it mid-swing, his palm closing over her fingers, before it can come too near his face.

“Hello,” says Jack Kline, still holding Claire’s fist in one hand while he raises the other in a small wave.

He’s got a gap between his two front teeth. Jesus Christ.

In the second that Claire’s still frozen, he must decide that he’s not done being stupid today, because he opens his mouth again. “My name is –”

“I know who you are,” she snarls, ripping her fist from his hand to hold it at her side, glaring back at him without quite looking at his face. “I said, what the hell are you doing here?”

Even without looking, she can just about hear his eyebrows knit together in confusion and concern. Every frantic beat of her heart sends pain lancing through her chest. She can’t fucking deal with this right now, she needs to hit something, she needs to get so far away from this –

“I wanted to meet you, Claire Novak.”

It’s like some excited kid blew out their birthday candles with all the breath in their little lungs. The fight just goes out of her, runs down her back like melting ice skating its way down her spine, until instead of being wound up with tension, Claire’s just fucking exhausted. What’s even the point anymore?

“Don’t know why,” she says under her breath, shifting her weight onto one hip and tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“Because I thought you could help me,” Jack answers earnestly, evidently having heard her grumble and chosen to ignore the reason she didn’t say it out loud to him in the first place.

Claire can’t help it. She snorts derisively, folding her arms over her chest for the second time.

“What could you even need my help with?” she asks, even though realistically there isn’t a good answer to that question. “You’re half-angel, aren’t you? Nephilim. And now you’re literally God, so. You can do whatever the hell you want to do.” She pauses for a second. “And you’ve got Sam and Dean if you need anything else. You don’t need me.”

Jack takes a second, letting her words sink in – clearly it hadn’t been what he was expecting to hear from her. Good. Let me keep him on his toes. Time to dance, kid.

But then he tilts his head just slightly to the side, eyes narrowing as he processes what she’s said, and fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Unbidden, the corners of her eyes start to prickle, tiny stabs from the smallest knives, and her fingers dig marks onto the leather of her jacket sleeve in a desperate grip. Fuck. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it –

It’s impossible. The kid looks so much like Cas that it’s hard to believe they don’t share any DNA. The past two months of strategic hard work and fragile walls carefully built up around her heart shatter in the seconds it takes for Jack to speak again. Fuck.

“That’s true, but this isn’t something that being omniscient can really resolve,” he muses as Claire fights the urge to scrub at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I think Sam would like to help, but I’d be worried that what I want to ask would be too difficult for him to deal with. And Dean is…” He falters for a moment. “I don’t think Dean likes me very much right now.”

“The Impala’s here, isn’t it?” she says, latching onto the distraction with only the slightest waver in her voice. “Can’t be that mad at you.”

“I drove it here,” Jack answers simply. Claire’s eyes widen despite herself.

He what?!

“You – you drove –”

“Yes,” he says matter-of-factly. The ends of his lips twitch upwards again. “I don’t like flying when I’m on Earth, not if I don’t have to. So I took the Impala from the bunker’s garage since I’ve already practiced driving it.” The smile flickers for just a moment. “I didn’t tell anyone I took it, though. I didn’t want Sam and Dean to know I was here. Do you think it’ll be missed? I didn’t think I’d be too long.”

The information whizzes in through one of Claire’s ears and right out the other. All except –

“You stole the Impala?”

Jack’s hand flies to the back of his neck, rubbing it up and down in an embarrassed move that reads so Dean that it nearly punches the breath out of her again. “I just wanted to come by and ask you a question.” He squints thoughtfully, and the gut punch does hit this time. “I think they would have let me take her.”

This time, she can’t help swiping angrily at the sides of her eyes with her sleeve. Fuck this. This conversation’s all small-talk and pain and it needs to be done yesterday.

“So what are you here for then, huh? What was worth stealing the Impala for?” she says. Her voice only cracks once, which is pretty much a win with how hard she’s losing grip on her sanity. She still can’t even look right at him.

His eyes widen a little, betraying his surprise at the sudden reversal of the conversation. He opens his mouth but then pauses, clearly thinking over whatever he was about to say.

What he does say isn’t any better.

“The last case that Cas and I went on was to investigate this religious group at a community center,” he says, and Claire’s ears start ringing. “Well, the case itself doesn’t really matter. But we had to pretend to be new members of the group and the pastor asked us to share our journey during prayer.”

Jack pauses, and the way his fists clench at his side looks like he��s gathering up the courage to continue. “Cas talked about losing his sense of purpose and not really knowing what to do anymore. But he said that he found himself again in becoming a father.”

Claire can’t help but flinch at the word. She takes a step back, unsteady on her feet, and lets out a watery, incredulous laugh. “Must’ve felt good, huh, wonder boy?”

He tilts his head just like Cas again, just more fucking fuel for the fire.

“Well, yes,” he says slowly, like he’s testing out the words. “But he wasn’t my dad first.”

Her breath catches in her throat.

“I – I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, another disbelieving laugh slipping through her lips. Her head shakes a no without even a conscious thought to do it. “He wasn’t my dad just because he stole my dad’s body. You’re wrong.”

Her words taste strange coming out of her mouth. She’s not lying – she misses her dad more than anything. She still remembers the last time she saw him, the look on his face, bruised and bloody, looking up at her in desperation as he begged her to take him instead. Claire remembers her fear, her horror, her despair at the thought of her dad leaving again; she remembers Castiel’s calm decisiveness and – even though he was her, even though he was about to take her dad away from her forever, even though he was the world’s number one, top tier, give-the-guy-a-fucking-medal type of jackass – his clumsy attempts to soothe her inside her own head.

There’s nothing to fear, Claire, he’d thought with no small amount of uncertainty, pulling up her most comforting memories to try to make her feel better. The smell of her favourite teddy bear squished into her face when she was cozy, wrapped in her blankets; Christmas around the softly-lit tree, singing carols with her mom and dad; the triumph in her dad’s eyes when she finally got the right answer on the hardest math equation she’d ever had to do. The memories hadn’t helped at all – they’d actively made it worse. He was so fucking stupid. But somehow, he was still trying. Your father will live. He will be serving a greater mission. You will see him again someday, in a better place. Don’t be afraid.

For years afterwards, she’d thought of that whenever she prayed to Castiel to bring him back. He had tried to make her feel better. He couldn’t be all bad. He was going to bring her dad back.

It didn’t take long after her mother started drinking herself to sleep every night for Claire to give up on that idea.

Castiel, douchebag of the Lord, hadn’t even thought twice before he as good as took both of her parents away from her.

She’d tried thinking of that when Sam had called, two months ago, to gently tell them that Cas was gone. She’d tried to remember the anger and the disgust and the absolute, endless hatred at what he’d done to her family. It wasn’t hard; those feelings still fought their way past her carefully constructed barriers around that time in her life whenever she let herself think about it. The problem was, that wasn’t all there was anymore.

He’d broken her out of the foster system, even though he was the world’s worst liar, even if he’d had no idea what the hell he was doing, even if he was doing it more out of guilt than anything else. He’d remembered her birthday, and gotten her a gift – even if it was just a stupid toy from Hot Topic. He listened for her prayers. He texted her with a frankly excessive amount of emojis, and no matter where he was or what either of them were doing, he always made sure to send her good morning and goodnight texts.

Dad had been kind, gentle. He’d kiss Claire’s forehead before bed every night, and even when she’d gotten older, he’d still sometimes make the time to read her bedtime stories. He’d help her when she got stuck on schoolwork. If he ever had to leave for a conference, he’d always bring her a little something from wherever he’d been, just to remind her that she was always in his heart no matter where he went.

Cas never pretended like he could make up for what he’d done, because he knew there was no way he could. He never acted like she owed him anything. He didn’t hold anything against her even when he probably should have. He apologized, and didn’t expect her to forgive him or want anything to do with him afterwards.

He’d tried to comfort her.

Castiel, angel of the Lord, couldn’t have been James Novak even if he had tried. He would never be able to fill the empty void Jimmy had left in Claire’s life, the space that Castiel himself had created in the name of Heaven’s great plan.

That didn’t mean that, with all the shit they’d been through in the last few years, he couldn’t have slowly become – in the strangest, most incomprehensible, most fucked-up of ways – something like a father to her.

It’s the first time she’s let herself even consider the thought.

Jack meets her eyes uncertainly in the silence, somehow looking nothing like Jimmy Novak and everything like Castiel all at once.

It’s still for a moment, all except for Claire’s lungs working overtime to catch a breath, until a small noise pierces the air. It happens again and again, unpredictable and erratic, and there’s a second where she half-wonders where it’s coming from before Jack moves to extend a hesitant hand out toward her and abruptly stops himself in mid-air, unsure what to do next.

Oh. That’s me.

It’s only then that Claire tastes the saltwater on her lips; only then that she realizes that she’s been shaking with sobs she’s only barely been able to hold back. She’s still standing, but it’s a close call, if she’s gonna be honest with herself. And she might as well be, now.

“Claire?” Jack tries gently, hesitantly. With that, it’s like the blood in her veins catches a spark, lighting her up in an uncontrollable blaze. She doesn’t need his pity. She can’t stand him tiptoeing around her like she’s some sort of fucking wild animal, can’t stand his small voice when he talks to her, can’t stand him looking at her with his eyes –

“How does Dean even look at you?”

It tumbles out of her mouth in a rush, a tangled mess of thorns that she can’t stop herself from throwing in his face, and the worst part of it is that it’s true.

Jack’s the one who flinches this time. He takes a step backwards, and he opens his mouth like he’s trying to say something, but nothing comes out. Claire doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or cry.

“You look so much like him, you know that?” is what she settles on saying, and he flinches again, looking away. She laughs humourlessly. “Nobody told me. I hear all kinds of stories about the new kid – the special-est little boy – Cas’ son, but no one thinks I might wanna know that he doesn’t look jack shit like his biological dad down under – no, he looks just like mine.”

Jack’s eyes widen in something half like surprise, half like horror. His lips part silently, but she beats him to it.

“And you know what the funniest part is?” she continues, voice growing louder. “The funniest part is that sure, it fucking hurts to see bits and pieces of him in your face. But you know what I realized? Even with all that, it’s not really Dad you look like.”

She looks up at him, into those piercing blue eyes that she’s only ever seen on one other person, and holds his gaze, however shaky it might be.

“Dad’s been gone twelve years. That wasn’t his body anymore. That was Cas.”

Her breaths are ragged, her fingers trembling, but she can’t stop now that she’s started. It’s like a boulder rolling at top speed down a hill, a chemical chain reaction rushing to explode. “He never moved like Dad did, never smiled like him even though it was the same face. You’re just like him. I look at you and all I can see is his stupid face – ”

It feels like she’s falling apart.

“They’re both gone. They’re – they weren’t even – ” Another sharp, dead laugh bursts from her chest. “How good of a father was either of them? When my dad gave us up, gave up his family because a voice in his head told him he was special? When Cas – when Castiel left, and couldn’t look me in the eyes, and started over with a different, better kid so he could be a real dad?”

“He talked about you all the time.”

The words are soft, but somehow they still stab Claire like a silver dagger to the heart.

“What?”

“Cas talked about you,” Jack repeats, this time a little louder. “He didn’t pretend like you didn’t exist just because I lived with him and you were living here.”

All she can do is blink. Her throat tightens, each dry swallow burning its way down her chest.

“I don’t know what a father is supposed to be,” Jack says simply. “I don’t know if Cas was a good one, to either of us. He left me behind, too. And it’s my fault he’s gone.”

Claire looks back at him, standing there unsteadily, and – for the first time, the only time in this whole exchange so far – Jack looks real.

“That’s not – ” she tries, but he shakes his head.

“He made a deal to save me. I’d rather not be dead, I guess, but Cas made himself unhappy so he could stay here, and when the time came, he left without saying goodbye.”

She remembers Cas driving slow beside her as they talked, Cas putting himself between her and whatever danger was threatening them this time, holding her when her heart was shattering and she didn’t know what she was even feeling. Her phone burns a hole in her pocket with one last “Good morning 🌞, Claire” that she thought she’d have more time to answer.

“I just wanted to know what he was like,” Jack says, and it takes Claire a second to realize that he’s still talking to her. “With you.”

The silence hangs heavy between them. They look at each other, a growing chasm at their feet that neither can cross alone. Claire feels it cracking in time with her heartbeat as she looks back at Jack’s open expression, and she makes a choice.

“He was an idiot,” she says, throwing a rope over the aching canyon to cross the distance. Jack, wide-eyed, holds to it like a lifeline, hanging rapturously onto her every word. “He had to pretend to be my dad once and it was like he’d never met a real person in his life. I don’t think he knew how to exist around a teenager.” She pauses, and for the first time today, Claire Novak feels a small smile tug at the edges of her mouth. “He gave me a Grumpy Cat plushie for my eighteenth birthday.”

“Really?” Jack tentatively offers a smile back. “He got me Marvellous Marvin the Talking Teddy for mine.”

“Are you serious?” Well, fuck. This time, though still incredulous, Claire’s laugh is genuine. “Man, he has one idea and he sticks to it, huh?”

“Sounds like it,” Jack answers, and he lets out a small laugh too.

“He didn’t know what he was doing most of the time, but… he was trying, I guess,” she says slowly, finally trying to put a name to the wall crumbling to pieces around her heart. “We were both trying, even though it was probably the most fucked up relationship in the world. Sometimes I still don’t know how I feel about everything.” Her shoulders sag with exhaustion, but she still manages a shrug. “Right now, mostly, I miss him.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, voice breaking on the word. When Claire looks, really looks at him, she can see the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes like she’s looking into a mirror. “Same here.”

It’s a split second decision, but somehow, it still feels like the moment she makes it stretches into forever.

Before she really knows what she’s doing, Claire takes a step forward, and then another, and one more. When she’s close enough, she takes a deep, shaky breath and lets it out into a long sigh.

“C’mere,” she mumbles, and pulls Jack toward her. He stumbles, startled, but before long his arms gently close around her just like how she’s holding him, two kids in the world’s most awkward hug.

When she hears a small sniffle from right beside her ear, though, she knows she made the right choice.

“Thank you,” comes his small voice, and his fingers squeeze just a little tighter into the leather of her jacket. “Thank you, Claire.”

“All right, all right,” she answers, voice thick in her throat. Be cool, Novak. “Can it, beanstalk.”

Jack laughs again, breathless and a little watery.

Nailed it.

***

When they’ve both run out of stories to share, the silence between them isn’t nearly as loaded as it was at the start. They’re sitting at the edge of the flowerbed, typing their numbers into each other’s phones, when a car door slams shut at the front of the house.

It’s Claire that looks up first at the sound, her brows furrowed.

“I don’t think Jody was expecting anybody today,” she says, but before she can think it through, Jack freezes beside her.

“Jack?”

“Thank you, Claire,” he whispers, handing her phone back and gently taking his as he stumbles to his feet. “If you ever want to talk, you can always text me. I’m pretty sure there’s service in Heaven.” He frowns for a moment, considering. “If texting doesn’t work, you can always pray to me. I’ll always be able to hear you.”

“Whoa, what’s with the curtain call?” she says as she stands, dusting the dirt off her jeans. “What’s going on?”

It’s then that she hears voices floating out of the open kitchen window, and it doesn’t take long to put the rest together.

“It’s Sam and Dean,” Jack whispers anyway, unnecessarily. “I told Jody not to tell anyone except you that I was coming, but Sam must have noticed the Impala was missing. I can’t stay.”

“You don’t want them knowing you’re here?” Claire asks just as quietly.

He’s back to tugging on the hem of his jacket with a hand, his eyes darting fast as lightning between Claire and the kitchen window. The breath he lets out is shaky, and he can’t quite make eye contact with her anymore.

“I don’t know how to save Cas,” he admits, and even though she’d figured it had to be something like that, the disappointment still stings, somewhere deep down. “I can’t yet. I can’t see them until I’ve found a way.”

It doesn’t really make sense – dumb as the Winchesters can be, would they really hold something like this against Jack? – until she hears the clinking of glass and the sound of the front door again, and suddenly it all clicks into place, right alongside the worry and sadness in Jack’s eyes when she’d mentioned Dean’s name earlier. She nods without a word, but taps her phone back as her own reminder.

A wave of relief breaks over Jack’s face, and he nods back, a small smile on his lips and a hand raised in a wave goodbye. He’s gone a moment later, and Claire’s left standing there, alone, looking at the back door.

She knows what comes next, even though she’s had enough of feelings for one day, thank you very much. But this is how Cas has left his family, and there’s no use crying over spilled milk about it.

Time to pick up the pieces.

“…we’re not trying to smother him,” Sam’s voice is saying as she walks past the side of the house. “I just – we just want to know if he’s okay.”

“He’ll be back when he’s ready, Sam,” Jody’s voice answers, gentle from lived experience, and Claire’s heart stumbles over a beat from the tidal wave of guilt washing over her.

Despite that, she keeps walking, steps steady even when nothing else in the world is. It’s not long before she makes it to the front yard and catches sight of a figure leaning, slouched, against the Impala.

The bottle Dean’s holding is hanging loosely from his fist at his side, and he’s turned away from her so she can’t see his expression. It’s been awhile since Claire’s seen him around – Jody must know better than to put them in close range after what happened two months ago. Still, she feels something like déjà vu as she sees the defeat in his slumped shoulders, hears the beer clinking against the door of the car.

It only takes another second for it to hit her like a freight train. She’s seen this movie before – she knows how this one plays out. Even though they couldn’t look more different, for one long, heartwrenching moment, it’s her mom standing there by the car, about to leave her behind for another doomed wild goose chase.

Sorry, Clairebear, Mom’s gotta get going now. Be good for Nana, okay? Mom and Dad are gonna be back soon.

She’s pretty sure Rotten Tomatoes would rate it into the negatives, as far as endings go. Claire may not have been able to escape it for herself, but she’ll be damned if she lets Dean take up the starring role in the hotly anticipated sequel.

And, well, fuck. It’s enough that she’d been surprise cast into the little horror show her life had become. Jack shouldn’t be forced onto the casting couch from hell either.

Dean’s silhouette slumps a little further as he lets out a sigh, and Claire’s resolve cements itself deep in her chest.

As she moves closer to the Impala, two things become clear to her. The first is that she can tell now that Dean’s watching the setting sun, looking at the horizon without seeing much of anything. His jaw twitches and his lips move soundlessly, almost as if he’s trying to say something, but no words make it out.

The second is that the keys to the junker the two of them drove here are still in its ignition.

Well, fuck it.

Looks like today’s theme is bad decisions, she thinks wryly.

It takes less than a minute for Claire to create a group with Sam and Jody’s numbers in it and text them a quick apology, and then she’s sliding her phone into her back pocket as she draws close enough to grab Dean’s arm.

“All right, old man,” she says, and pulls hard.

Startled, Dean comes away from the Impala with a grunt. It takes a second for his eyes to find Claire’s, and another for them to focus enough to make sense of what he’s seeing.

“Hey, kid,” he says, and fuck. His voice might as well be sandpaper. She can see him trying, though – in another moment, he manages to rearrange his expression so it looks passably like a smile if she squints real hard. The look on his face makes her chest feel tight with an emotion she can’t name. “Long time no see, huh?”

“Sure has,” she answers, and, putting all her weight behind it, she yanks him in the direction of the passenger seat of the Men of Letters’ courtesy car. Dean stumbles, but just like she’d been hoping, he trips toward the door. “Don’t worry, though. We’re about to have a really long catch-up sesh.”

***

It’s an hour and a half into the drive back to Lebanon that Dean finally starts sobering up enough to fully understand what’s happening.

“You left Baby back in South Dakota?!”

“Oh, calm down, princess,” Claire says with a roll of her eyes. Drama queen. “Sam’s the only one you’d let drive her back, anyway. It’s not like you were sober enough to do it.”

The silence that falls over the car is the most awkward it’s been between the two of them since the mini-golf incident all those years ago.

Dean slumps back into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh, and when Claire makes no move to continue, he goes back to staring sightlessly out the window at the twilight, slowly slipping away into darkness to the tune of a soft pattering of raindrops on the roof.

They’re driving down a dimly lit two-lane, a wall of clouds casting pitch darkness on the highway, when Claire speaks next.

“You’re gonna have to talk about it at some point, Dean.”

He snorts derisively without looking at her. “Yeah? So what, you’re about to go all Doctor Phil on me now that we’re trapped in a car for another hour?”

“Fuck no,” she says emphatically, knuckles bone white on the steering wheel. “We are not having this conversation.”

“ ’s different when it’s on you, huh,” he mumbles into his jacket, and Claire stares out at the blackness where the road ends, just outside the faint outline of the car’s headlights. Another long silence steals over the two of them, and Claire drives on.

“I’m not the one that needs to hear it,” she says, finally.

Dean doesn’t answer – at least, not aloud. His shoulders hunch further inward, and she resolutely pretends not to hear his jagged, uneven breathing piercing the dark.

They don’t speak again until they’re less than twenty minutes out from the bunker.

“It’s not like I don’t see it,” Dean murmurs, barely audible over the sound of the engine.

“See what?” comes Claire’s careful answer, taking a corner a little more sharply than she should have.

“Sammy,” he says incomprehensibly, and before she can even begin to process what’s happening, he’s putting his head in his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “He thinks I’m like him.”

“Like –”

“No,” Dean snaps vehemently before she can even say his name. “Not him. Like John.”

“John?”

“Turning into Dad,” he says, so quietly Claire almost doesn’t hear it. The streetlights of Lebanon pass over his face, from the black of night to warm yellow to black again, and silently, Claire pretends not to notice the shimmer of tears on his cheeks.

---

It’s too late to drive back to Sioux Falls by the time Dean’s stumbled into bed, but before he passes out cold on top of the sheets, he tells her to pick a room and make herself comfortable.

It’s not like Claire’s turning down the offer; she’s just too wired to sleep, her brain whirring at a hundred miles a minute, trying and failing not to feel the emotions stuck in her throat. There are no bedtime stories tonight, nothing to distract her in a blank room that’s been unchanged for seventy years. Tonight, the static’s gone, replaced with restless adrenaline and a heart on the verge of collapse.

It doesn’t take much tossing and turning for Claire to make the executive decision that trying to sleep is pretty much useless right now.

Even though she really doesn’t need to be – an elephant stampeding outside his door wouldn’t have a chance of waking Dean right now – she’s light on her feet as she slips out of the room and down the hallway.

Dean’s is the only door that’s closed; through one that’s half-open, she catches a glimpse of one of Sam’s bags strewn across his bed, at least a dozen books scattered across his sheets, his desk, the floor. There’s another nearly empty one next, except for a few plaid shirts hanging in the open closet and a glasses case by the bed. Through another, posters litter the walls, there’s a pair of headphones folded up on the night table, and a tank lies empty on the desk. So it goes.

The room after that has its door flung wide open, so really, it’s practically begging for her to take a closer look. On first glance, it’s just the same as every other room; double bed, a night table on either side, a desk, a closet. Nothing looks any different from what her room looks like, or at least not until she overbalances on her heel-turn back toward the door, throws her arm out to steady herself, and feels her hand meet fabric instead of wood on the desk chair.

It’s just a regular army green jacket, like any number of the ones Dean’s worn around before. There’s the corner of what looks like a thin rectangle of black plastic just peeking out of the pocket facing her – if she had to guess, it looks like one of the millions of cassette tapes she’s seen Dean stash away in a mangled box tucked under the Impala’s front passenger seat.

Is he using this as a second room?

Nothing else looks lived in, so it takes her until she finally turns to leave again to notice the tiny blue triangle of fabric caught on the edge of the upper desk drawer. Now that doesn’t look like anything of Dean’s– he doesn’t usually wear much blue – so, against her better judgment, she pulls the drawer unstuck to see what it is.

The first thing that she processes is that it’s not all blue; the fabric alternates diagonal blue and white stripes from one tip to the other.

The second is a memory.

As the fabric nearly slips from her hands, Claire sees it knotted messily, feels her fingers tugging it one way and then the other to tighten it up; hears her own voice, loud and dissonant, echoing in her ears.

Not that you care, but I like you better in a tie.

She’s gone before she even realizes she’s moving.

When the cool, quiet night air hits her face, it feels like her mind finally comes to a stop. Ever so slowly, Claire lowers herself to sit, cross-legged, on the cold concrete of the bunker’s roof; the moon stares, uncaring, down at her through the incoming clouds, lighting up the slight shake in her hands, her trembling fingers still gripping the stupid tie. If she looks closely enough, she can see the usual bright dot that she knows means Jupiter directly above the crescent. Absently, she wonders if Jack is looking at the same sky; if he’s seeing the same stars in reverse, a mirror image, if he’s looking down at them from above.

The planet turns, the galaxy spins, and Cas is still gone.

“Hey, Cas,” she murmurs to the air, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re a real fucking asshole, you know that?”

Looking down at the tie in her hands – the ghost of a memory that someone couldn’t bear to salt and burn and let go – Claire takes in a deep, shuddering breath and then exhales slowly, on a countdown like Kaia taught her one day after she came back from therapy, lying down on her bed with their fingers entwined. It’s only after a few repetitions, once her heartbeat slows, that she finds her voice again.

“Dear Cas, who art in Heaven,” she starts, and then snorts past the lump suddenly blocking her throat. “Well, not anymore, I guess. Um. I’m gonna start over, okay? Sorry,” she adds, suddenly self-conscious.

“Dear Cas, who art in something called the Empty, according to Sam. You’re probably not able to hear this, but, um, figured it never hurts to try.” She cringes, squeezing her eyes shut. “Ugh, this is so fucking stupid.”

What can you even tell your kind of father figure who, if you’re playing the odds, will never even hear a thing you’re saying?

“Fuck you, Cas,” she says instead, ignoring the way her voice wavers. “You left us all behind. Jack thinks it’s his fault you’re gone. Dean thinks it’s his instead. And you know what? I don’t even know if either of them is right, because you never said anything, you fucking asshole, you never told anyone!

“I’m not – not stupid enough to blame myself. I already knew I made it hard for you to stay. If it – if it was my fault, you’d have left a long time ago.” She takes another uneven breath in a doomed attempt to steady herself. “But you never cared that I made your life hell. The only thing you ever thought about was how you ruined mine.

“And I don’t – look, Cas, I don’t know if I can ever forgive and forget,” she pleads desperately, and fuck, it doesn’t matter how hard she’s trying, she’s still going to cry. “You have to understand that. That was my family, Cas.”

She falters, looking up at the stars again. The cold air prickles her skin, smelling faintly of incoming rain. The tie still trembles in her hands. “But so were you.”

There’s no answer but the clouds swallowing up the last of the moonlight, leaving her alone in the darkness, and the little that’s left of her composure shatters.

“How the fuck am I supposed to feel?” she shouts into the night. “You tell me, if you know so much – if you’re calling the shots – fucking tell me!”

It’s like the air changes, even though she knows there’s no one listening. A sudden breeze whips her hair across her face; it catches, sticking in the tears streaking down her cheeks. Her whole body shudders with silent sobs.

Somewhere far away, a clap of thunder shakes the earth.

#Claire Novak #Castiel #Jack Kline #November 5th #Supernatural #destiel #my writing #this was theoretically meant to come out on the 5th but I got lost in my perfectionism and have spent the days since editing and re-editing #also since most of it was written in a fugue state on the 5th itself it was maybe a stretch to think I'd actually post it same day #whoo baby this is the second longest fic I've ever written!!! a very close second!!!#thank you to the CW's Supernatural for making me insane #also yes you are supposed to read the last bit set to Snow Patrol's The Lightning Strike (What If This Storm Ends?)#ANYWAY ::drops this here and runs::

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