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a-lockman5 · 4 years

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Dirty Little Secret {Devi x Paxton}

A/N: Hooray! So after about 8.5K, I cut this one off. I like the way it ended, and it was fun to imagine a future Daxton. Thank you so much to the person that requested it! I am throwing around the idea of working on a part 2, so if I get at least 5 “upvotes” for a part 2, I will take it on.

Summary: Devi wasn’t interested in dating anymore. She wasn’t hurt or messed up from a previous relationship. She just wanted to meet a guy that made time stand still. It just didn’t happen. That is, until a man from her past walked into her office.

Warnings: Fluff, drinking/alcohol abuse, time-jump (Devi and co. are in their late 20s), forbidden love, taboo, mild burns, sexual themes - nothing explicit

Don’t forget, request/ask is open!

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“Debbie, you have a new patient today,” the office manager, Barb called out, thrusting a folder into the air.

“It’s Devi,” she swiped the folder from her, “you know, like that grandson you’re always going on about.”

“Oh, sorry, dear. I keep forgetting.”

“It’s alright, Barb, thanks for grabbing this,” she turned away toward her own desk. I’ve only been working here for two and half years. Why should you have caught on by now?

Devi Vishwakumar didn’t know what she wanted for the future when she graduated nearly nine years ago. She had spent her high school career with two things on her mind: having a love life and getting to Princeton. She’d managed both. After dating Ben Gross for the entirety of their junior year, Devi and he ended things amicably largely because being friendly rivals was much more fun and somehow resulted in less legitimate fighting. Senior year, she enjoyed the company of another classmate named Tyler Herron. He was academically minded, but still a jock in his own right. He played for the soccer and basketball teams, and Devi found she received common invites to parties that previously she thought only came from her friendship with Paxton Hall-Yoshida. Eleanor and Fabiola continued to prove they were the best friends anyone could ask for, but she also learned to love Shira and Zoey. Though they often seemed more superficial than Devi thought to care for, their aspirations were just as real as Devi’s and they had minds made for business and marketing. When time came for graduation, Devi felt more seen and cared for than she ever thought she could, and that’s what she said in her valedictorian speech. She also couldn’t help throwing a jab at Ben for beating him out, but to be fair, he insinuated letting her win in his own speech.

When she arrived at Princeton the following fall, Tyler forged his own path to MIT. Devi had no intention of bringing a boyfriend into college with her and was not at all hurt when Tyler felt the same way. She did wish she’d beat him to the punch, but at least they too split mutually and were able to be friendly on social media. Being single gave Devi the opportunity to focus on what was most important – her future.

Her mother made it very clear to her, she was to pick a college major before arriving for her first semester. Not having a plan is lazy. Are you lazy, khanna? Even when her mother was thousands of miles away, Devi could hear her loud and clear in her head. Though, she found she was right. Devi had to be prepared to make decisions for herself otherwise all the work she’d put in to get to Princeton would be for nothing. She chose Biology and pursued it relentlessly.

By the time she was graduating with her bachelor’s in biology, she’d made plenty of friends during that time who helped her choose to further pursue Physical Therapy. It was funny, she often thought, how she spent so long working to move across the country for her favorite Ivy League school to then end up back in her backyard for graduate school. The University of Southern California had one the best PT programs in the country, and Devi was proud to have studied there. Her final fieldwork was assigned at OSMC, Orthopedics and Sports Medicine Calabasas. After a thrilling experience, and impressing her Clinical Instructor at every turn, she was asked to stay on after graduation. Naturally, Devi accepted.

OSMC was not only the most exclusive orthopedic surgery and rehabilitation practice in Southern California, but it was also where she felt most at home. Outside of having a coworker who passively refused to learn the correct pronunciation of her name, she was in her element every day. Plus, she got to meet some really cool people. Professional athletes, actors, stuntmen, they all came to OSMC for physical rehabilitation. Legally, she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else that she’d personally worked with Dylan O’Brien, Diego Boneta, and Mookie Betts. She liked to remind herself of those things regularly though. Living in the LA area also allowed Devi’s relationship to improve with her mom, who finally voiced how proud she was of Devi… when she first started working. Now, she was worried that Devi would never settle down.

Devi had begged her mother not to place her in an arranged marriage when she was still studying at Princeton. The conversation actually took place at Kamala and Prashant’s wedding ceremony. It wasn’t that she didn’t think it could work – Kamala and Prashant proved that love could flourish from being set up. Devi wanted something different though. She wanted what Nalini and Mohan had. They met when they were children, and never wanted anyone else. She wanted to meet a man and feel the electricity that could make her forget her own name (like Barb seemed to do every day). Heart softened by the reminder of how Mohan had swept her off her feet, Devi’s mother agreed. That was six years ago. More recently, Nalini reminded her daughter regularly that all of the handsome driven Indian men in her age range had already been swept up, so she was on her own. She also made it very clear that grandchildren were to be in her future.

Did her mother’s constant badgering sour Devi on dating? Maybe a little bit. Did she get guys to buy her, Eleanor, and Fabiola drinks when they out only to ditch the same guys at the first opportunity? Absolutely, but what woman hadn’t done that? It had been a long time since Devi saw a man that made time stand still, and Mehcad Brooks was treated in her therapy gym.

No, Devi was not the romance obsessed teen she once was. Honestly, it’s better this way. Now, I can focus on my career, she thought. She pulled up her schedule on her laptop and noticed she didn’t have an appointment for three hours. “Hey, Barb? What time is that eval coming in?”

“Scheduled in thirty minutes!” She called back.

“Who ya got, D?” Amir, one of the physical therapy assistants, asked. “Someone rich or someone famous?”

“Go ahead and take a look, you’ll probably be seeing them next week,” Devi replied going to grab a mug of coffee.

“Hey, another Olympian. Paxton Hall-Yoshida!”

“Devi, oh my gosh, are you okay?” Hannah’s voice sounded like it was a hundred miles away. Devi didn’t come back to reality until she felt a damp towel being pressed into her arms. “Here, there’s coffee all over your leg. I don’t want you to get burns.”

Hannah was their rehabilitation technician. She helped keep things picked up, sanitized, and would provide physical assistance if they needed another set of hands during a session. At the moment, she was saving Devi from second degree burns, and cleaning up the broken ceramics from the coffee mug she’d just dropped. Hannah was right too; Devi chose the wrong day to wear a skirt and had drenched her right leg in hot coffee.

“Hannah, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me,” Devi told her pressing the towel on her knee and calf with one hand and crouching down to help pick up the pieces of her mug with the other.

“Devi, I love you, but please don’t help. We don’t want you to cut your hand open,” she laughed. Devi was known to be a little clumsy. “I have a pair of scrubs with me if you want to wear them today.”

“You are a lifesaver, Hannah. I don’t care what Amir says about you!” she called over her shoulder, heading into the locker room to change into Hannah’s scrubs.

Okay, Devi, get your shit together. Maybe it’s not even the same guy. Except, of course it was. How many Paxton Hall-Yoshida’s were Olympic Swimmer’s for the US team? One. There was one. One Paxton Hall-Yoshida that Devi had routinely made a fool of herself in front of when she was in high school. Paxton Hall-Yoshida that gave her the best first kiss a girl could dream up. Before she started dating Ben, Paxton was all she thought about. Now, she was supposed to treat him? God, I feel like I’m fifteen again! she thought, kicking the lockers angrily. She had to get a grip. She had exactly twenty-two minutes to handle the situation.

After changing quickly into the burgundy colored scrubs, Devi found herself in her boss’s office. “Makayla, is there any way I can give my eval to one of the other therapists?”

“Why?” She tapped her acrylics on the desk impatiently. Makayla was notorious for being in all the gossip of the clientele in their practice. Devi knew she had to be careful telling her too much. If she knew Devi and Paxton went to high school together, the questions would never stop until Devi ended up with word vomit about both of their personal lives.

“Uh... I just spilled hot coffee on my leg, and I am feeling pretty tense from that still.”

“Alright, Devi, I’m going to level with you. This particular client asked for you specifically. Apparently, he knows one of your previous clients, and they were a satisfied customer. He will not be happy if he works with another therapist. Are we going to have a problem?”

Devi swallowed her argument about conflicts of interest and gave her boss a tight-lipped smile. “No problem. I’m flattered, obviously. Thanks.” She rose from her seat and began to back out of the office. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help,” she gave a small wave and didn’t notice the way her foot caught on the door frame until it was too late.

She screwed her eyes shut, waiting for impact. It’s a reflex to reach your hands out toward the ground when falling in order to protect your head, but instead it often results in one of the most common fractures. Devi knew her bottom and back could take a fall and so she resisted the urge to catch herself, but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to meeting the floor.

Except she didn’t hit the floor. “Woah!” she heard man’s voice shout before she was caught by a strong arm. “Good thing you got my good side.”

When she opened her eyes, there he was. Holding her in mid-air with one arm, Paxton Hall-Yoshida smiled down at Devi like Christmas had come early. He gingerly aided her back to a standing position, and she tried to ignore how he bit his lip and smirked at her. Man, he had not changed a bit, except that somehow, he looked stronger and more handsome than the last time she’d seen him.

“Oh, thank goodness. We didn’t need Danni getting hurt again!” Barb giggled from behind the front desk. Devi opened her mouth to correct the office manager again but didn’t manage to get the words out before Paxton.

“It’s Devi,” he told Barb. “D-e-v-i; it means goddess.”

“Oh!” Barb smiled like it was the first time she’d heard Devi’s name. “Well, thank you, young man. This goddess is your physical therapist today.”

“Lucky me,” he grinned. “Lead the way, Dr. Vishwakumar.”

It was all Devi could do to stop the heat from coloring her cheeks as she led Paxton through the therapy gym to one of the exam rooms in the back. No one interrupted them or disrupted their course. That was an expectation of working in an office with so many VIP clients. Professionalism came first, and Devi kept blasting that in her head. Be professional. Be professional.

Once they reached the exam room, she stopped at the open door and gestured for him to enter ahead of her. She tried to stop herself from checking out his backside, but the high school sophomore in her won the battle. And just like when they were in high school, this boy – nay – this man had an amazing way of filling out clothing that would otherwise be loose fitting. God, he looked good.

When she looked up, she was glad his back was still to her. For the first time, possibly in her entire life, Paxton didn’t catch her in an embarrassing moment. “So, Mr. Hall-Yoshida, why don’t you take a seat and” –

She was cut off by his soft laughter. “Come here, Devi,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

She found herself returning his embrace, and it actually helped her relax a little. “It’s good to see you too, Paxton,” she told him when she pulled away a moment later. “How long has it been?”

His eyes squinted over her shoulder as he thought about her question. “Ben Gross’s Christmas party 2022, right? Eight years?”

Somehow, in that moment, it felt like yesterday. “Yeah, that’s right. The one party at Ben’s that didn’t end with me in the deep end of the pool,” she grinned.

His eyes raked over her for a moment, so intense that she chose to turn away and grab his chart to distract herself. Then he laughed again. “At least sometimes it was on purpose.”

“Yes, not all of us are as graceful in the water as the Paxton H.Y.” she smiled up from his paperwork. “Alright, we could catch up for hours, but we have to get your evaluation done. Tell me what’s going on with your shoulder.”

Paxton smirked, but nodded and did not argue with moving on into the session. He explained his sudden onset of pain during a training session. Sharp pain. He noticed more during strokes or overhead activity. It was difficult to sleep on that shoulder, but otherwise, if he wasn’t using it, he didn’t have pain. Everything Paxton told her confirmed what the orthopedist had diagnosed: shoulder impingement syndrome. Just to cover her bases, Devi confirmed positive results for Neer’s and Hawkins’ tests. He demonstrated mild weakness in the affected shoulder, and pain seemed to onset just at approximately 100 degrees of flexion.

“Okay, looks like you saw Doctor… Matthews? Did he explain this to you?”

“Not really… he said I’m pinching a muscle in my rotator cuff?”

“Kind of, more like a tendon,” Devi said grabbing a model off the counter. “So, you know how this is a ‘ball and socket’ joint so to speak. Normally, you have full range of motion and the ball rotates in the socket without any pain or stiffness,” she explained demonstrating the normal range of shoulder flexion. “Right now, you have some inflammation in the space between the ball and socket, so whenever you raise your arm above shoulder level, there isn’t enough space for the joint to rotate normally. Because of that, you pinch that tendon, it hurts and causes more inflammation, and then the next time you raise your arm, you’ll pinch the tendon, it’ll hurt and cause inflammation, and so on.”

“So… every time I raise my arm… like on every stroke, I make it worse?” he asked, his forehead furrowing.

“Not really, but you’re not making it any better. Every time you raise your arm above shoulder level, you’re basically reinjuring it. Don’t worry though, we can fix it.”

“Dr. Matthews didn’t think I would need surgery.”

“Oh, god no, and I would never do surgery. A – out of my scope of practice, B – can you imagine me with a scalpel and a living, breathing person? Bad idea.”

She smiled when he started laughing. This was Devi’s favorite part of her job. She had many A list clients walk into her office, and there was always a level of fear that they wouldn’t be able to reach 100% again. Sometimes, it was true. Devi liked being able to alleviate that fear and make people as comfortable as possible though. Paxton was no different. He’s just another client, she told herself, and continued in her explanation.

“See the reason it keeps happening is because you’re not giving the inflammation a chance to go down. Between swimming, lifting, and day to day activities, your arm goes over your head a lot. First thing we have to do is, limit that.”

“So, I can’t swim?”

“Not unless you can do it with your left arm by your side,” her head tilted in sympathy. “It’s not forever though. I want you to keep your arm below 90 degrees of flexion – below shoulder level for four weeks and I want you to complete these exercises every day, two to three times per day,” she pulled her pre-assembled shoulder impingement program out of a binder. “I want you here twice a week and we’ll follow up on your progress.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “If you seem like you need more attention, then we’ll add a session weekly. Honestly, Paxton, this is a really common injury, especially for swimmers. It’s known as ‘swimmer’s shoulder.’ You’ll be back in the pool in plenty of time to qualify for 2032.”

He smiled warmly at her, and she could see his stress deflating. “Thanks, that is really good news.” He stood from his seat and advanced toward her before catching himself, “Can I hug you again?”

She grinned. “As long as you keep your arm below 90 degrees.”

She saw a spark in his eyes as he thought of a retort, but his expression changed to his easy smirk and he nodded. “Deal. Thanks, Devi,” he said as he pulled her into him.

“So, we’re done, and I can go?” he seemed nervous.

“Yeah, I have another patient in,” she glanced at her watch, “thirty minutes? Wow, I thought this was a quick one.”

“What time do you get off?”

“My last appointment is from 4:00 to 4:45 this afternoon.”

“Let’s get dinner tonight. Are you busy?”

Was he asking her on a date? No, just as friends to reconnect. Still, she had to keep things professional. Dot the T’s, cross the I’s – “What?” Nailed it.

He exhaled in a gentle laugh, his right arm reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I, umm, I asked you to have dinner with me.”

“Like a date?”

He stared at the floor, another laugh escaping him. “Yeah, Devi, like a date.”

To be honest, she was a little angry with him for this. “Paxton, I can’t.”

“Devi, come on. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. It doesn’t even have to be a date! Just two friends, catching up.”

She opened the door, attempting to usher him out. “That would be hugely unethical, Paxton. If you wanted to ask me out, you shouldn’t have handpicked me to be your therapist. I can’t date one of my clients.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again with a nod. “You’re right, I’m sorry, Dr. Vishwakumar. I didn’t mean to offend you. Thanks for all your help today. I’ll see you next week,” he told her. It would have seemed respectful or sincere if he hadn’t smirked the whole time. He was already at the front desk, presumably scheduling his next appointment when Devi reached her desk. He turned, his eyes settling on her immediately. “Oh and, Dr. Vishwakumar, you look good in that color,” he said with a smile that made her knees weak.

“Devi, he was flirting with you!” Hannah rushed to her side once he was gone.

“Lucky me,” she grimaced, pulling her phone from her desk drawer.

*We’re getting drinks tonight.. Actually we’re going out. Get hot.*

***

“So why are we going out tonight?” Fabiola asked, pouring shots of tequila in her kitchenette.

Fabiola had a cozy apartment in Koreatown. After receiving her degree in mechanical engineering from UC Berkeley, she received an entry-level job at Aldrin Corp. Within a few years, and some well-timed retirements, Fabiola was promoted to Senior Project Engineer. It was a job that was made for her. She often said she felt she was more hands on than previous SPE’s she’d worked for, but it also gained her the respect of her subordinates and made meeting deadlines that much easier. Her salary allowed her to not only afford this apartment near downtown LA, but to keep saving. Devi thought even with Eleanor climbing the ranks in her own field, Fabiola would be the first to have a suburban home like they’d all grown up in. For now though, she’d have the apartment closest to the clubs, and would be their pre-game hub.

“Yeah, you’re lucky you picked tonight. I had an early table read this morning, but I don’t have to be on set again until Sunday,” Eleanor agreed, touching up her eyeshadow.

“You will not believe who walked into my office today,” Devi groaned, leaving the bathroom to meet Fabiola at the counter. She swiped a shot off the counter and downed it with a wince.

“What about the salt and lime?” her friend asked in outrage. “I cut fresh lime for you!”

Devi grabbed a wedge and bit the flesh out and Fabiola nodded curtly. “I’ll use the salt for the next one.”

“So, who was it?” Eleanor asked, gliding out of the bathroom to join them. “Was it Sebastian? I know he’s almost 50, but I don’t know how you didn’t go home with him at the last premier party.”

Eleanor was a successful actress. She wasn’t a leading lady yet. She was gaining a lot of clout though. Enough clout to be at premier parties with Sebastian Stan… and Amandla Stenberg… and Tom Holland. Her phone was full of A-list stars and she was not legally obligated to keep her mouth shut about any time she spent with them. She very thoughtfully brought Devi and Fabiola to her premier parties as her guests, and that meant that they met a lot of A-list stars too.

“It was not Sebastian Stan,” Devi rolled her eyes, “and I’ll remind you, he texted you the next day asking you to thank me for calling his driver to come get him, remember? He was plastered and did not need to wake up with a stranger in bed with him.”

“Yeah, he’s really shy and private about his personal life. That fruit basket he sent you was intense.”

“Hello, losing focus,” Fabiola redirected while refilling Devi’s shot glass. “Who came in today?”

Devi groaned as she remembered her obligation to patient privacy. “I can’t tell you. Stupid HIPAA. What I can tell you is, he asked me out at the end of the session.” Eleanor and Fabiola grinned at each other before turning their grins on Devi. “What?”

“You wanted to say yes!” they said in unison.

“What? No, I didn’t. I’m dreading seeing this guy again next week.”

“No, you’re not! You’ve told us tons of stories of your patients flirting with you and your coworkers. Never once has it prickled you to the point of wanting to go get hammered in a nightclub.”

“Fabiola’s right! You’re fantasizing about getting with this guy in the exam room like on Grey’s. God, will that show ever not be relevant?”

“The point is the reason this has you tweaking is because you know you can’t do it.”

“Shut up, you guys suck.” Devi said, preparing a salt strip on her wrist for another shot.

“So, give him to another therapist so he isn’t your patient.”

“I tried before he even walked in, but Makayla said he asked for me specifically. She said something about how he knew another satisfied client.”

“Why is your job so sexual?” Eleanor laughed to which Devi glared. “Sorry, I’m sure all of your clients are satisfied.”

“You’re the worst,” Devi laughed, grabbing a lime wedge and thrusting the saltshaker into Fabiola’s hand. “Now are we pre-gaming or what?”

After more than enough shots resulted in finishing off the bottle in record time, Eleanor called for a car. The girls piled in, giggling a lot more than they had been a half hour prior. Fabiola insisted on controlling the music, though no one argued. Fab had an excellent knack for reading the energy and picking the perfect soundtrack. At least normally. This time, what she thought to be a great throwback jam, took Devi back eight years to a time that would only increase her anxiety to think about. 2022, Ben Gross’s Christmas Party.

***

“Coyote girl!”

“Hey, Trent,” Devi smiled meeting him and Paxton by the punch bowl. “You didn’t dip your balls in this again, did you?”

“Come on, Devi, I’m in college now. Would I do that?”

She looked between Trent and Paxton: Trent attempting to look way too innocent, Paxton analyzing him just as much as Devi. Suddenly, he turned to Devi. “You know what? I brought a bottle of Jack. It’s in the fridge. I’ll share with you.”

Devi smiled in gratitude as Paxton led her inside. “So, you’re drinking?”

He smiled. “We get a break from meets during Christmas break, so I figure once or twice won’t hurt.”

“David!” she heard as soon as she and Paxton entered the kitchen. The moment they started dating, Devi told Ben that the ‘nickname’ bothered her. He almost never used it anymore, but he was obviously drunk. “Wait, no sorry. Devi!”

“What’s up, man?” Paxton fist bumped Ben. “I don’t trust Trent, so Devi is drinking my stuff. Cool?”

“Cool, man, and thanks for the heads up. If you don’t trust Trent, I don’t trust Trent.”

Ben and Paxton had reached a relationship of friendly acquaintances by the time Paxton graduated. It had been a necessity when Ben tutored Paxton in order to meet the requirements for his swim scholarship to Stanford. At the time, it brought Devi mixed feelings. Being a few years removed from the drama of her sophomore year, it was nice they could all just hangout without it being weird.

“So, Ben, I gotta know. Why are you having a Christmas party?” Devi asked. “You don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“True, but you can’t throw a party over winter break without accepting that people are going to call it a Christmas party, and expecting half the guests to wear ugly sweaters whether it’s required or not,” Ben explained, only slightly tripping over his words. “I just steer into the skid.”

Devi and Paxton grinned at him before laughing. “Hey, whatever. It’s a dope party, and you guys are just too sober to appreciate it,” he accused good-naturedly, pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the refrigerator. “Get moving and come find me when you’re on this level. Unless I’m with Emma, then come back later.”

“Emma?”

“His girlfriend. She’s wicked smart, and she even convinced his parents to be at parents’ weekend. They’ll probably get married,” Devi told him as Ben went back outside.

“I’m sorry, do you go to school in New Jersey or Boston?” he teased.

“What?”

“You’re turning into a New Englander, Vishwakumar,” he told her, taking a pull of the Jack. He stepped in close enough to her that she could feel the heat radiating off him.

“I am not,” she laughed taking the bottle from him and taking a pull of her own. She coughed a little as it went down causing him to smirk. “I don’t usually drink whiskey.”

“Here,” he turned to the fridge and grabbed a soda. “Chase with coke, it helps.”

Just as she went to open the can, a group of people came in, immediately crowding them because they were going to use the island for a game of quarters. At least, that’s what she was able to glean from the drunken shouts of her old classmates. She felt an arm wind around her waist and looked up at Paxton – her chest practically pressed against his.

“Hey, you want to catch up to get drunk or catch up with a friend?” he leaned down to speak in her ear.

“How about both?” she smiled, grabbing the bottle of Jack and slipping through the crowd with Paxton close behind.

“Devi, come on! Catch up!” she came back to reality to have Eleanor thrusting one of the mini fireball bottles she’d shoved in her purse into Devi’s hand.

“I hate fireball,” she groaned.

“Fireball!” her friends shouted, and they all downed a bottle.

“Ladies, we’re here.”

“Okay, okay, one more for the club,” Devi insisted.

With a cheer, all three girls shot another small bottle of fireball. After tipping the driver, Eleanor led them past the line and walked straight up to the bouncer.

“Ladies,” the man smiled. “You on the list?”

“Eleanor Wong,” she stated her name with a flutter of her eyelashes.

He was silent as he skimmed his clipboard. “I don’t see it…” he trailed off, looking up at Eleanor, “but hey, aren’t you in that new spy thriller with Michael B. Jordan?”

Her eyes lit up, “Yes! Shot for Death! Tom keeps saying I’ll get used to being recognized, but it’s such a rush! Oh, here he is now,” she held a finger up to the stout but muscular man as she answered a phone call. “Hello darling,” she said with a flourish. “We’re outside, but he says I’m not on the list. Could you?”

Within seconds, Tom Holland popped his head out the door. “Mal, they’re with me. They’re under my name.”

“My apologies, ladies. Head on in, and I can’t wait to see you on the big screen again, Ms. Wong.”

“Thank you!” she blew him a kiss as the girls hurried inside.

Tom and Eleanor greeted each other with a hug as Devi and Fabiola wandered over to the bar. When Eleanor first made friends with some prominent stars, Devi was star struck regularly. As she got more into her career, and treated more and more celebrities, she began to get used to being in their presence.

“Drinks or shots?” Fabiola shouted over the music.

“Shot for me and then I’m going to dance.”

“Yes, girl!” Fabiola pounded the bar, gaining the attention of one of the bartenders. “Can we get three B-52s?”

“Make it four and put it on my tab,” a man’s voice called from beside Devi. Her initial thought was that Eleanor and Tom had caught up to them, but it clicked almost immediately that the accent was distinctly American. And then it clicked again that she would recognize that voice anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” she wheeled around on him.

“I’m out with some friends. What are you doing here, doctor? Are you following me?”

“Paxton?” Fabiola caught his eye past Devi.

“Hey, Fabiola,” he grinned. “Good to see you!”

“Same,” she smiled back. “I didn’t know you were in town?”

“Yeah, I’m home for some physical therapy,” he shouted gesturing to his shoulder.

It took Fabiola exactly no time to connect the dots, and Devi could feel it. Instead of looking at either of her current companions, she accepted the shots from the bartender with as much gratitude as she could muster. Devi carefully pushed a shot to her left and then to her right, clutching the remaining shots tightly.

“I’ll go give Eleanor hers.”

“Nope,” Fab cut off her escape and plucked the extra shot out of her hand. “I’ll do that. You take yours and go dance!”

“Oh, I’ll cheers to that,” Paxton said, leaning forward so she could hear him. “Come dance with me.”

Maybe it was alcohol from their successful pregaming clouding her judgment, or maybe it was the way she could lose herself in Paxton’s gaze just as easily as when she was fifteen years old, but Devi couldn’t stop herself from nodding and clinking her glass against his as they downed the shots in unison. He smirked at her, grasping her hand gently and leading her to the dancefloor.

It was crowded already, but so many of the people here loved that paparazzi never got in, and they could cut loose. Devi loved that atmosphere. Under the flashing lights, music pumping so loud you can’t hear anything else, dancing with friends, or a guy she would be way too nervous to talk to otherwise – it all just made her feel alive. She felt that same adrenaline as Paxton kept his left hand firmly on her hip but did not pull her into him. Instead, he left just enough space between them for things to be innocent.

As the beat dropped on a new mix, Devi felt Paxton’s hand like an anchor. They locked eyes for a moment, and she swore she could feel the energy crackling between them. The corner of his mouth quirked up, gaze never leaving hers. This man asked her on a date that morning. The man she’d so desperately wanted as a teenager – the man that she nearly idolized and seemed so unattainable in her youth was the same man in front of her, the one looking at her like pure sex. The thought had a laugh bubbling up in her that she couldn’t stop. Full belly laughter overtook her as she bounced and swayed to the music and just lost herself.

She wasn’t sure how much time past, but at some point, Eleanor and Fabiola joined them. The music had shifted from EDM to a mix of the most beloved hip hop music from ten to fifteen years ago. As intended, that shift had more people pouring onto the dancefloor, and having any space to breathe was impossible. To Devi, it was perfect. The beat was pulsing so loud, it felt like her own heartbeat, and the familiar music was lending to everyone’s closet-love for karaoke as people around her belted the lyrics. Then she felt two hands at her hips pulling her slightly backwards to dance against a man’s chest. Normally, she didn’t mind dancing with strangers. As long as they didn’t get too handsy, she didn’t even mind the approach this guy took. Tonight, things felt different. Her eyes flew open, and immediately met Paxton’s. His look was calculating. He wasn’t going to stop her if this was what she wanted.

The thought brought an easy grin to her face as she reached a hand out toward him. His lips twitched into a crooked grin, but he met her hand and spun her into him. In that moment, time stood still. Devi didn’t notice who had approached her before Paxton’s rescue. She wasn’t sure if Fabiola and Eleanor were still on the floor with them. All she knew was that her back was pressed against Paxton’s chest, and it felt like she belonged there. They swayed to the music together, and she felt his left hand rest on her hip again. His other hand swept the hair off her right shoulder, and she felt him press tighter against her.

“What do you want from me, Devi?” he asked, his breath hot on her neck.

“You’re not dating anyone?” she asked disbelievingly. “Not at all, not even one-night stands?”

They were sitting in Ben’s theater room on the floor passing the significantly less full bottle of Jack between them. It was nice. It was easy. The awkwardness of what happened in high school long behind them.

“Hey, I have never had a one-night stand,” he pointed at her. “Have you?”

“Well, no, but I’m me and you’re you,” she laughed.

“What does that mean?” his eyes narrowed at her good-naturedly as he took another pull from the bottle of Jack and passed it back to her.

“I just mean, one of us probably has people lining up to sleep with them, and the other one is me,” she shrugged.

“Why would you even say that? Have you looked in a mirror?”

“Come on, stop, I didn’t mean” –

“I’m serious, Devi. You are a very weird girl, like that’s your brand, but it’s hot. You’re hot. If you really think guys aren’t interested in you, you’re not paying attention.”

“Stop,” she waved him off, cheeks burning hot red. “You don’t have to do that.”

He was scooting closer to her until their thighs were touching, and his gaze was searching hers looking for any hesitation. “I know. I don’t have to do anything. You know what I want to do?”

Her skin tingled under his stare, and she shook her head ‘no.’ Her stomach somersaulted when he reached a hand up to cradle her jaw. “I want show you how beautiful you are.”

Devi turned in his embrace, draping her hands around his neck. Paxton’s head immediately fell to the crook of her neck, and she played with the hair at the nape of his neck as she leaned into his ear. “I want you to show me how beautiful I am.”

His head snapped up and he pulled back to look her in the eye. His jaw had gone slack, and he was looking at her with such curiosity that it made her second guess herself. Maybe he wasn’t interested after all. Maybe he’d just been swept up in not seeing her after so long that morning. Maybe he just wanted to see if he could still get her to fall at his feet. Maybe this was just a game to him. She started to unwind her arms from him to escape her embarrassment when he pressed one of her arms down to stay in place around him. His other hand was firmly pressed against the small of her back.

“Let’s get a drink,” he suggested, waiting for her confirmation. When she nodded, he took her hand off his shoulder, pressed a kiss against the back, and led her from the dancefloor back to the bar.

“What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey sour,” she told him.

“Thought you didn’t drink whiskey?” he grinned.

“Things change.”

When their drinks were made, he nodded to a staircase, and she set off toward it with him close behind. The upper room was a quieter atmosphere. Tables and chairs, booths, a pool table – it was a great offset from the chaos downstairs. He placed their drinks down on a booth, and she slid into one side expecting him to slide in opposite her. Instead, he slid in next to her.

“Paxton, look I’m sorry if I misread things, I just” –

He placed a hand on her knee. “No, don’t do that. You didn’t misread anything. Just tell me why you said that exactly?”

***

Devi woke to the feeling of a hammer slamming against her skull. She could feel the sunlight piercing through her eyelids, making her roll over and press her face harder against her pillow. She heard a toilet flush, and that prompted her to inspect her surroundings a bit more closely. Blearily, she moved to a sitting position as the faucet in the bathroom ran. It was her apartment, that much she could tell. Maybe Eleanor and Fabiola decided to come back here? Fabiola lived closest to the club. That was why they pre-gamed at her place. Why would they come back to her place? Was she the only one coherent enough to call for a ride? With the way she felt this morning, that was unlikely. No, so who was using her bathroom and whistling as they walked down the hallway?

She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and unplugged it from the charger. She had a few unread messages in her group text with her friends.

*Let us know when you wake up this morning, we want to hear all the dirty details!*

*Also, avocado is a great hangover food!*

The dirty details? What did Devi do? So much of the previous night was a blur. At least she has clothes on – one of her dad’s old t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. That had a to be sign that she didn’t do anything too stupid. So, who was out there?

Only one way to find out, she thought, hoisting herself out of bed. She stepped out of her bedroom, and immediately smelled eggs. Devi padded down the hallway to the kitchen, and there was a steaming cast iron skillet sitting on a hot pad at the breakfast bar. No one was in the kitchen though.

“Hey, you’re up!” a voice cheered from behind her. Devi whirled around to the living room, to see Paxton on her couch carefully stretching one arm over the other shoulder.

“Jesus! Paxton, what are you doing?”

He tilted his head at her with a quizzical look. “I’m doing my shoulder exercises. You’re the one that assigned them.”

“Not that!” she couldn’t help but holler at him. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it again. His arms fell to his sides. “You actually demanded that I come here.”

“What?” her eyes went wide as she did her best to recall the events of last night. “Did we…?”

He started laughing as he stepped past her and behind the breakfast bar. “I knew you were too drunk to remember. No, we did not have sex. You were mad at me for that last night by the way.”

“No…” she trailed off taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

“Oh yeah, I told you I was going to take the couch, and you said you’d been waiting like ten years to see whether or not I stuff my swim briefs,” he smirked. “I don’t, in case you’re still wondering.”

“Oh my god,” this new information and the headache still throbbing against her skull was enough to make her vomit. Instead, she just dropped her head to the counter, the pressure soothing against her forehead.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It was cute… in a very Devi way,” he brushed her arm gently. “Sit up, you need to eat.”

She shifted her head slightly to meet his eye. “I yelled at you for not showing me your dick, and you stayed the night and made me breakfast.”

“Yeah, I had to make sure you were okay,” his eyes warmed to hers. “Now, sit up and eat.”

She obeyed and smiled when he pushed a loaded plate toward her. “This looks awesome.”

“Yeah, I had to work with what you had, but I call it a southwest sweet potato hash,” he told her proudly. After loading up his own plate, he came around the breakfast bar to sit next to her.

“So, anything else I should know about last night?”

“Well,” he paused to swallow a bite of food, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

She thought about the events of the previous night, as Paxton hopped up again.His energized movements distracting her, she asked, “Are you not hungover at all?”

“Based on what you told me, I had a lot less to drink last night than you did, so no, I’m not,” she heard him reply. She was staring at her plate because too much movement made her nauseated.

“You didn’t happen to make” –

“Coffee,” he cut her off happily, placing the mug in front of her, “and here’s some Tylenol. I was looking for blowfish or something but doesn’t look like you have any.”

She gratefully took the little pills from him and threw them back with a swig of coffee. “I used to. I stopped getting hungover for a while too.”

“Why’d you go so hard last night?”

“I think you know why,” she said with a glare.

He pursed his lips in a pout before choosing to ignore her implication and coming back to sit with her with his own cup of coffee. “So, what do you remember from last night?”

“I remember dancing with you on the dance floor.”

“Anyone else? Eleanor, Fab, some dude that I’m pretty sure was Lucas Hedges?”

“Okay, yeah. Some guy started dancing on me, and I wanted to dance with you instead,” she replied casually, continuing her breakfast.

“Nothing else? You don’t remember going to the upper room to talk about what happened at Ben’s party?”

“We talked about Ben’s party?”

“Well, yeah, funny thing is, I didn’t remember that,” he told her with a nostalgic grin. “Like I remembered it, but I thought I dreamt some of it.”

“What? Like what?”

“Well you were gone when I woke up, and never said anything about it so I thought…”

“You thought you dreamt making out with me?”

“Well, see so that’s all we did? It’s hard, because when I’ve dreamt about it since then…” he trailed off, the tips of his ears turning pink at his own admission.

“You’ve dreamt about it since then?”

“Not like a ton… it’s not like I’ve dreamt about you every night for the last eight years, that would be kinda creepy probably. Just any time something reminds me of you, it seems to come up… high school, something about Gross in the news… seeing you on social media… it’s not that weird.”

“Paxton…”

“I mean, whatever, I know I’m going to dream about last night for a long time,” he winked. She didn’t understand how he could have so little shame. Then she remembered she had enough to go around. “You made it your mission to remind me of every dirty detail of that night at Ben’s.”

“We made out last night?”

“We started to, yeah. Instead of getting hot and heavy, you ran off to the bathroom, and I found you with your head in a urinal. That’s when it was time to go home.”

“And that’s what you’re going to dream about?” she scoffed.

“No, I’m going to dream about you pawing at my zipper yelling about pringle cans.” He settled into a close-lipped smile, but it didn’t hide the mirth in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” Devi groaned, slipping off her stool to flop over onto the couch.

She could hear Paxton laughing. Soon, he was settled on the couch with her. She turned her body just enough to catch his eye, and he patted his lap. She rolled her eyes but stretched out so her head was on his thigh and she was looking up at him. His features were soft, gentle, caring.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he told her softly, one hand carding through her hair. “I don’t mind when you act like you like me.”

“I’m not acting,” her eyes fell shut, feeling his fingers stroke her scalp could lull her to sleep.

“Yeah?”

She hummed an affirmative. She was pretty sure if he kept scratching her head like that, she’d say yes to anything. And of course, she liked him. She was never able to truly deny that fact. Even when she’d had boyfriends, she’d be lying if Paxton wasn’t always lingering in the back of her mind. How could he not be? His appearance was god-like. He was beyond hiding behind words – if she was honest, that was her favorite part – he wasn’t afraid to be real with her. And he never gave up on her. As rocky as their friendship had started, as often as they lost touch, here he was telling her, he still thought about her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she almost whispered.

“Me too.”

She felt his hand trace the edge of her face, and couldn’t stop herself from leaning into his touch, and pressing a kiss to his palm. Somehow, it was comfortable, intimate. She felt like she was born to be here. The same thought she had eight years ago came back to the forefront of her mind: It’s always been Paxton. At that realization, her eyes popped open. He’d leaned his head back, eyes closed; he looked as close to dozing off as she felt moments ago. His lips formed a peaceful grin, just slightly curved upwards, and his two small moles pinning opposite corners of his mouth were barely shadowed by the growth of his facial hair overnight. His long eyelashes curled naturally in a way, Devi thought, women would kill for. She always knew he was hot, but she never really took the time to notice how beautiful he was.

Before she could stop herself, before she could think twice, Devi leaned up and pressed her lips to his. And time stood still. Just as she was going to pull away again, his hand found hold in her hair, and his lips moved over hers with fervor. She wasn’t sure who opened to the other first, but in a flash their tongues were dueling for dominance. Instead of admitting defeat, Devi pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. He, honest to god, whimpered in response. She smiled against mouth before he swallowed her smile with one, two, and then three slow languid kisses. He pulled away, pressed her to his chest that she could feel was heaving. When she looked up to meet his eye, they were closed again, but he wore the most breathtaking smile she’d ever seen.

“Mm... I want to take my time with you,” he told her, pressing another kiss to her lips. She blushed at his implication. “God, I am not going to forget this any time soon.”

“Mood, my guy. Big mood,” she agreed, sitting up next to him.

He turned so he was halfway facing her, and his left hand took refuge on her thigh. “Can I ask you something?” he asked, waiting for her nod before continuing. “Okay, I don’t want to pop this, like, bubble we’re in right now, but… what does this mean going forward?”

“Paxton…” her eyes softened. She knew what she wanted, but with her job, how could she…

“Devi, listen. I know it’s my fault that you’re my therapist. I know that I made this difficult, but I really just wanted to see you, and now? I know one thing for sure, I really don’t want to wait another eight years to kiss you again.” he sighed, and repositioned again so he was fully facing her, clasping her hands in his. “I’ll wait for four weeks if it’ll make you happy. I’ll be your dirty little secret if that’s what you want. Just don’t turn me down. Let me take you to dinner, bring you flowers, make you soup when you’re sick. Give me a chance to sweep you off your feet.”

“Honestly, I’m stuck on ‘dirty little secret.’”

He smirked. “Lingering looks… shirtless assessments… secret dates… secret hookups,” he told her sensually, pausing between each suggestion to press a kiss first to her lips, then the corner of her mouth, her jaw, and finally ended by sucking her earlobe into his mouth and dragging his teeth over it. She shuddered under him, and felt him smile against her neck. “Do you like that idea?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

#never have i ever #never have i ever netflix #nhie #nhie netflix #daxton #dexton #devi vishwakumar #paxton hall yoshida #paxton hall-yoshida #paxton h y #devi x paxton #paxton x devi #writing #daxton fluff #dexton fluff #paxton hall yoshida fluff

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the-marvel-imagines-blog · 5 years

Text

Depression and Anxiety

Hello, my beautiful followers!

This post is going to be something different than what I usually post. This isn’t a chapter of Madness or a random ficlet/imagine. I just want to open up about what’s going on in my life at this exact moment, something that has plagued this blog a lot since its birth.

***IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO TALKS OF SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, OR ANXIETY, PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER***

***If you are struggling, there are always people who are willing to help. Reach out, find a hand, grab on, and hold tight. You are needed. You are worthy. You are enough. ***

***If you’re thinking about suicide, are worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, the Lifeline network is available 24/7 across the United States. The Lifeline is available for everyone. It’s free, and it’s confidential. You can call the Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or chat with them online here.***

I live with major depressive disorder and panic disorder that also morphs into bouts of OCD. Throughout my life, I’ve been treated by various therapists/psychiatrists/doctors, received medication (which never seemed to work), been to therapy, spent time in inpatient care, and spent time in the hospital in connection to my depression and anxiety, which have-in the past-led to attempted suicide and suicidal thoughts. My anxiety and depression feed off of each other at this point in my life. I look at them as a co-dependent couple.

When I’m depressed, my anxiety is sitting in the background with a little voice saying, “people can see you’re depressed! You should hide it! No one likes a debby downer. Be happier. If you don’t play your role as the funny one, people won’t want to be around you.” It progresses from there, and they begin to work in tandem with one another. If I don’t hear from a friend for a day (which is totally normal in my friendships), the anxiety tells me that they probably left me, while the depression tells me that it would be for the better because everyone leaves at some point, right? Those aren’t “normal” thoughts for me most of the time, but depression kicks my ass. I struggle with the anxiety building up the depression...until the depression starts to give way to the anxiety.

When the anxiety hits, it hits hard. I have panic attacks, and it leads to me secluding myself in my house for days on end. I’ve called out of work before because I can’t bear to leave for fear of having another panic attack. It’s embarrassing to have one of those in public, especially at your job. Quick story: my anxiety had started to diminish, and I was heading back into what I call “Eden” which is just the state of being “normal” (for lack of a better word).

Let me say this before I continue: I understand that “Eden” has a religious context, but I was raised Catholic and left the church at a young age (14ish) when I was told (at my church) that “the gays are going to hell.” I understand that not all Catholic churches preach hate, but mine did at the time. As a queer woman, that didn’t support my beliefs, so I left, but that’s an entirely different story. Eden was still, in my mind, a place of peace and tranquility, a place I dreamed of when I was younger. When I was scared as a child, I would try to picture what the Garden of Eden would look like, and it helped calm me. I just wanted to put great stress on the fact that my choice of words for my “normal state” is in no way pushing religion onto anyone. It’s just what I named it.

Anyway, I was on my way out of my anxiety, thinking that it was just about packed away. I hadn’t experienced a panic attack for two or three days at that point, so I was hoping there wouldn’t be anymore of them at all. When I got to work, I clocked in and within 45 minutes, the man who had been sexually harassing and threatening me (he’d often threaten to follow me home and do whatever he wanted with me) came into the store. This man was well known for being a drug addict and an alcoholic, but he made me feel wildly unsafe even when I was far away from work at my own home. He did his usual rambling and made eyes at my chest over and over again, asking for cigarettes and whatnot. In the meantime, I had called my supervisor up to the front to have him deal with the situation. By the time he got there, though, the man noticed and walked out. Still, he had made the same variety of threats he always did, and it sent me over the edge.

I ran to the bathroom, a complete mess. I was sobbing, shaking, and I nearly fainted because my panic attack was causing me to hyperventilate. I cried so hard I had to use the toilet to vomit (probably TMI, but I want to be super real with y’all). I’m a strong person. I’ve been through the wringer time and time again from my mom’s suicide when I was 14 (which I feel an immense guilt over) to the death of my very best friend. We all have our stuff, every single one of us, and these are mine. When my panic attack had subsided, my boss suggested I go home and take it easy for the rest of the day. It was the most embarrassing situation I’d ever experienced because this panic attack happened at my place of work, and my coworkers witnessed part of it. I could barely show my face after that, and my depression started to feed the anxiety. The depression said, “you’re too damaged. No one likes damaged goods. You might as well not be around. You’re a waste of air. This is just a sad existence. Why try? Give up.”

This is just an insight into my life. Recently, I woke up, and I knew it was going to be one of those days. I had a pretty severe panic attack the night before, but I woke up with high anxiety at around 2:30 am. I knew at that moment that it would lead into a depressive episode, and I can never tell how long the episodes will last. I started to have a complete meltdown. I wouldn’t normally wake up around that time, but I did. I drove out to the middle of town and sat in my car until it was light out. I watched passing cars, stared out the window, looked up at the stars, and thought about my own existence. For hours, I was the human embodiment of the Dial-Up internet sound or TV static.

I have a history with self mutilation, which I hate talking about even with my therapist. It brings up the “hot shame” feeling. It’s an activity I haven’t partook in for years (since I watched my grandfather cry when he found out about it) and had no real interest in it since then. For years, those thoughts haven’t really crossed my mind...until that morning. In a desperate attempt to pull myself out of that mindset, I started to partake in other destructive behaviors that I won’t get into detail about here because I NEVER want to endorse these activities. I wanted to feel something else-anything else-and distance myself from potentially hurting myself, so I did.

***I want to make it very clear that these are not activities that are life-threatening (hard drugs, self mutilation, breaking laws, etc.). I want that to be very, very, very clear.***

Because I haven’t taken part in these activities for a long time, it’s hard to remember how to pull myself out of this all-too-familiar rut. I’ve been isolating myself from my friends, hoping that by hunkering down and riding it out, I’ll be able to come out of this episode quickly.

I just wanted to give some clarity as to why I’ve been “absent” on this blog, why I haven’t been posting as often as I would like to be, and why I haven’t been as active as I should be. I hope you’re able to understand why this blog may seem “lifeless” at some points, but I have a lot of ideas as to how I can bring my creativity back to life and maybe breathe life back into this blog that I love so much. Writing is my main creative outlet, and being able to share my creations has given me so much joy.

I cannot explain how phenomenal y’all are for sticking around and staying with me for this long. To those of you who have reached out and have spent time talking to me, fangirling with me, encouraging me, hearing me, more times than one, you’ve pulled me away from a ledge, even if you didn’t know it. I am forever thankful for what you’ve given to me, and I could never thank you enough for that.

With all the love in my heart,

Me.

#depression #anxiety #mental health #suicide #mdd #ocd #mental illness #health #marvel #imagines #self harm #sad #angst #mcu #fanfiction

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