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writing4mycuties · 3 years

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‘Life in Quarantine’

Part 1

***please don’t copy or post my work, but feel free to reblog, like and comment! ❤️***

Taking the one year contract for my current assignment for my job took me to Boston, Massachusetts. After being there about a month, I had made a friend while I was out with some co-workers. Eventually he asked me if I’d be interested in going on a date. After about three weeks of dating, the topic came up about if we were seeing other people or if we wanted to see where this thing went if we were exclusive. I had admitted that I hadn’t seen anyone else anyway since our first date. He laughed and said ironically, he hadn’t either because he didn’t have an interest in anyone else. Besides being gorgeous and everything that is obvious, he was so much more. Christopher Evans is the real deal.

A pure gentleman in every way imaginable. His laugh is contagious but he can also be so gentle and caring. A hyper goofball at times and a mature, calm man at other times. Even though it hadn’t been a really long time, it felt like it had been. We were like puzzle pieces almost. When you put a 1000 piece puzzle together, only to find one piece missing after all that work. Then, miraculously, you find that missing piece under the sofa and place it in its spot, it makes it complete. That’s how I felt about Chris dropping into my life out of nowhere when he is usually traveling here or there for work, me living in a new place for a little while, then we ended up in the same place and meeting. He was my other half, who made me smile, made me feel safe, happy and complete. So much so that is hurt to think of not being with him and scared me at how fast I fell.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

That’s when this virus got some attention on the news. I was scheduled to go home, another state away. Currently, when I was between jobs, I was living in the guest house at my parents since I travelled for periods of time being a contractual analyst. My current job had been contracted for 6 months in the Boston area and since there was speculation of a nationwide shut down, the work finished up a few days early. This meant the condo that was set up for me would also be done. Even so, if there was going to be this state of emergency coming, I needed to figure out being in a separate state from Chris during something that was beginning to sound like it was pulled right from the movies. I texted him to tell him I had just been notified that it was best to go ahead and get back to wherever it was I wanted to be in case of a quarantine.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

—————————————————————————

Sitting at my desk, packing up the last of my stuff, my phone began to sound with the ring tone I had set for Chris. He was actually FaceTiming me.

“Hey babe. I got your text. Uh, I thought we’d have a little bit more time to figure out how we were going to do this once your work here was done. This sucks. I’m not ready for you to go.”

Smiling, his endearment made me all warm inside as I responded. “I know. Apparently this quarantine thing is gonna happen though and I need to get home while I can. I’m not leaving yet though, I’m still coming over tonight like we planned and we can talk about it then. We’ll figure something out.”

——————————————————————

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Both of us were starving by the time we sat down to eat, neither of us having had time for lunch today. We were kind of off throughout dinner, definitely not our loud and giggly selves. Even Dodger could tell we were both tense, his eyes darting between us as he lay at our feet. I had picked up takeout and brought it to Chris’ house when I left the office. I knew Scott was supposed to arrive in the next few hours so I made sure we had enough just in case.

——————————————————————————❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Scott actually showed up right when we were finishing up, Dodger jumping up to greet his favorite uncle at the door. I took Chris’ plate and mine into the kitchen to wash them after hugging Scott so the two brothers could catch up on their plans. I could feel Chris watching me carefully though as I left the room.

After I dried the second plate and was placing it back in the cabinet, I heard footsteps going up the steps towards Scott’s bedroom. I was closing the cabinet door when I felt Chris’ strong, warm arms wrap around me from behind as he laid his chin on my shoulder, speaking into my ear. “So, while Scott’s upstairs for a minute, are we gonna talk about you, me and this pending quarantine?”

“It’s really starting to scare me how fast the country is preparing things right now. The schools have closed, my parents and siblings have all stocked up and are starting their two weeks of isolation before they go around each other to be considered their own bubble. I’ve done nothing yet and still have to get home before I can even start. My mom said the stores are already showing empty shelves.”

Chris had already ordered a boatload of groceries and supplies beginning two weeks ago when there was just a rumor of what was possibly coming. Turning in his arms, I looked up into Chris’ face and found a similar expression I had seen all through dinner. My mood declined quickly, especially seeing him in this somber state that I wasn’t familiar with. I could tell he was thinking and that he was bothered. This virus was definitely worrying him just like everyone else, but he was the type to withdraw and clam up, getting quiet when he was bothered. The way he was this time was different though. As much as I didn’t want to go, I knew I had to get myself in order. I mentioned heading back to start packing soon and he stepped back, still holding me, but at an arms distance, before he responded.

“So, just like that, you’re gonna pack up and leave? What are we gonna do, have dates via FaceTime and zoom for who knows how long?”

“Seriously Chris? I never said that I was going to leave tonight. Why are you getting loud? That’s not fair, I’m the one with uncertainty looming here, not being prepared and still have to get home. This isn’t exactly easy for me either.”

“There is no uncertainty. You do have a home to go to and you know your parents have things to get you through whatever you need since you haven’t been there to do it. Same goes for here, I have plenty as well. I think we’re pretty far enough along in this relationship for you to know how much I care about you and would take care of you before letting you just make do during a pandemic.”

“This has escalated way out of hand. I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to me any more than I would you. Regardless of this virus, we knew I would have to get my things I have up here out of the condo within the next few days since the contract is done. No matter when I leave, I have to have that done, so I need to pack.”

“I thought we’d have a little more time to talk about us and how we would handle the distance but now this virus has moved the date up and thrown a huge obstacle in the way.”

“Nothing has changed in my opinion. Just that it is happening sooner and quicker. Are you saying that if we can’t see each other for a while that it changes things between us?”

“Absolutely not Y/N.” Chris had gotten a little louder by this point.

From the corner of my eye I saw Scott walk into the kitchen. He looked between Chris and I before speaking up. “Uh, I think I’m gonna go read for a bit. In. My. Room.”

Walking over to Scott, I patted his arm as I walked by speaking. “It’s okay. I have to get going.” Reaching down, I gave Dodger’s head a soft rub and grabbed my purse. Scott turned and spoke back up.

“Wait. What’s going on? Are you leaving, like, going home, home? Or your condo? What the hell did I just walk into?” I saw Scott give Chris a questioning look like I was missing something, but I needed to remove myself from this conversation. As hard as it seemed for Chris, it was a little harder for me with the extra things I had going on. On my way to the door, I heard the brothers talking quietly, but I did hear Scott tell Chris to say what he meant.

Turning to wait for my boyfriend to come give me a kiss and a hug before heading out, I found him jogging up to me from the living room. Wrapping his big arms around me, he spoke and I heard it echo through his chest since he held me so tightly. “I’m sorry. I just, I’m nervous about this whole pandemic, it’s messing with my work, and mostly, I don’t want to lose you.”

Pulling back so I could look into his face, I rested my hands on his chest while he still held me. I tried to speak quietly. “Why would you lose me? It goes both ways you know, I hope you know how much I care about you too.”

“I do. It’s just, I have so much I’ve wanted to say and now I feel like this shitty predicament is robbing us.”

“I’m just going to pack. I’m not leaving tonight. Now you have me nervous. Why do you have so much to say.”

“I don’t know. I just thought we had more time.”

“Chris. You act like you’re never gonna see me again. What the hell is going on?”

“Just, ...just stay. Don’t go... please. I can’t stand thinking about not seeing this face, hugging you.....kissing you.” Chris looked as if he almost had tears in his eyes before he finished. “Look, I know we have taken this kind of slow, but it’s because I want to do it right. I feel like, well I feel like this is something special, and I don’t want to mess it up. This fuhkin’ virus is making me realize it even more. I want what’s important around me and you are part of that. I love you Y/N.”

That was one thing we had not said to one another yet. The tears I was holding back from watching him this worked up spilled over. Placing his hands on each side of my face, along my cheeks, he used his thumbs to wipe the tears away as he spoke.

“Don’t cry sweetheart. I mean, I hope you already could tell...”

“I love you too. Hopefully you could tell too.”

With that warm smile that reached his eyes, Chris nodded. “I think the only part missing was actually saying it.” I was crying by this point and hugging Chris, not wanting to let go and certainly not ready to put a whole state between us. Not after hearing and saying those three little words that seemed bigger than the world.

Chris pushed away a little but didn’t let go as he spoke again. It seemed so much lighter now and easier, like a weight had been lifted for him. “Please, stay......stay here with me.” We heard Scott clear his throat from the living room. “Geez, and Scotty of course. There’s plenty of room. If you don’t want to stay in my room there’s enough rooms for you to have your own, just, ... don’t leave. You can video call your family, we can eventually go see them once everyone here and there are definitely safely quarantined on all sides. Just, for now... please stay?

“Okay, but you have to help me pack. And you too Scotty, so chop chop. We have to start this quarantine.”

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broadstbroskis · 3 years

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the wedding date | morgan rielly

a/n: well first things first, i’m gonna give a shoutout to myself, because i started this fucking thing back in august and it’s finally completed (that’s right, it took me 7 months to write just under 5k, shhh, it finally came together).

anyway, since i started this back in august, you can tell i’ve had this idea for a while. it’s morphed and changed a bit but the basic premise has stayed the same- you go home with morgan for a wedding and everyone thinks that you’re the girl he’s been dating for the last few years- so i hope you all enjoy! (also i’m sorry i suck at titles but like i’m not)

a special shoutout to these lovely people who have listened to me whine about this at any point over the last SEVEN MONTHS and some fellow mo lovers because you’re all amazing and i love you, @denis-scorianov, @brockadoodles, @danglesnipecelly, @laurenairay, @hockeyboysiguess

-----

When Morgan approaches you, with what you’ll later learn is only his first attempt to ask you something, you don’t even give him the chance, really. “Hey, what are you doing this summer?”

“Not you.” You quip back, grinning cheekily, ignoring the barks of laughter from Matthews and Marner beside him.

“Haha.” Morgan deadpans, but it’s busy that night at the bar, Saturday night after a Leafs win, and you’ve really got to get back to work now that you’ve finished serving them, so you’re already walking away from him.

The second time it happens is a Friday night, a few weeks later, when you’re out with some friends for the first time all semester. It’s late enough that you’re feeling just on the right side of tipsy, you’re drunk enough that you know you’re going to go home with the guy you shouldn’t, and you’re okay with both of those things.

At least, tonight you are. Tomorrow morning will be a different story.

And then, Morgan stops you at the bar. “Hey.”

“Hey!” You grin back...and then it slowly fades as he just hems and haws. “What’s up?”

“I-” He blows out a frustrated groan.

Your eyebrows raise. You’ve known Morgan for years now, since his first season with Leafs had been right about when you started working at the bar for some extra cash after realizing just how expensive school was getting and grad school would be beyond that. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him at such a loss for words. “Alright, well if you can’t think of it now, get back to me later, okay?”

“Wait-” He says, so you give him a minute or two, but there’s still nothing.

“Ok, I love you, but this is my one night out before my dissertation is due later this spring.” You tell him, reaching out for a hug. “You have my number and you know where to find me.”

“Ok.” Morgan smiles a little. “Have fun tonight.” And then you slink away from him, back in the direction of your friends, ready to let loose one last time before the craziness sets in.

The night that Morgan finally gets his question out is a quiet one in the middle of the week. He settles himself into the corner, doing his best to be discrete with a hat covering his face. By the time you and your coworker get everyone settled with drinks and you make your way over to him, he’s caught the attention of one older man, who immediately walks back to his girlfriend when you arrive at Morgan’s section of the bar.

“Well finally.” He’s free of all teammates, a rarity but not unheard of, especially this late in the season. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some service around here?”

“Oh sorry!” You tease. “Did I interrupt something here? Did you want me to call that guy back up so you guys could finish up?”

He flattens you with a look. “Don’t you dare.”

You giggle, leaning down against the bar in front of him. You know how much he loves the Toronto fanbase, but as playoffs approach, the fans are becoming more vocal and more forward with their thoughts. “You want another drink?”

He looks down at his glass, contemplates for a minute, and then nods, so you return quickly with a new beer for him and then smile as you watch him take a large gulp of it. “So what’s new?”

“Ehh loaded question.” He says cryptically. You give him a look. “But hey, you’re here on a Wednesday! You done with your...dissertation?” He trails off hesitantly, smiling at himself when you nod.

“Yup. I should know next week if I’m all clear.”

“And then?” He prompts.

“And then you can call me doctor, asshole.” You tease.

“I mean, Dr. Asshole isn’t what I would have gone with as my first choice, but if that’s what you want…”

“Morgan!” You laugh, ducking your head at the lame joke.

He’s grinning when you meet his eyes again, pleased as always that he could make someone laugh. “But seriously, that’s awesome! I’m excited for you.”

“Thanks.” You grin.

“What’s your next step then?”

“Umm I get to start researching infectious diseases for money.” You tell him excitedly, since you’d accepted a job with the University of Toronto’s medical research facilities. “But it doesn’t start until August.”

You’d expected Morgan to tease you about your excitement of infectious disease-something he and his teammates (among many other people you know) have done multiple times before-but instead, he perks up and says, “So you’d be free, on say, the weekend of July 8th?”

“Why?” You ask suspiciously. Experience has told you not to immediately say yes to this.

Morgan sighs. “Look. I need a date for a wedding back home that weekend.”

“And I’m the best you could come up with?”

“Best?” Morgan repeats. “You are funny, you’re pretty, you’re a doctor, all of which, frankly, puts you well out my league.”

“You’re not wrong.” You agree cheerfully, which puts the smile back on Morgan’s face, as you’d hoped. “But that doesn’t explain why you’d need a date to this wedding.”

The smile fades quickly and you wince. “I was supposed to go with Laura.”

You frown. “What happened to Laura?” Last you’d heard, the two of them were solid. Really solid. Headed for a wedding themselves, solid.

“She wasn’t who I thought she was.” He says flatly.

You wince. “I’m sorry, Mo.”

He shrugs. “It’s over and done with now.” You send him a reassuring smile. “So will you come?”

Well, there’s really no way you can say no now and not feel like an asshole. “Sure.”

The grin returns to his face. “Knew you’d come through for me.”

-----

Morgan rolls up to the airport in Vancouver to pick you up in a very fancy looking Jeep, a far cry from the sporty Porsche he drives in Toronto, and you call him out on it immediately. “I see how it is. You go home and you’re a fancy country boy, not a fancy city boy?”

He laughs. “Fuck off.”

“Gladly.” You tell him, grinning teasingly. “Drop me off at departures, will ya?”

His tone immediately turns serious. “Thank you. Seriously. Thanks for coming.”

Your smile remains on your face, still beaming over at him. “It was nothing, Mo.” It wasn’t, really, and you both know it. You’d quit your bar job a couple weeks early because of this, but you were happy to do this for him. He’d been down about Laura, down about being bounced from the playoffs again. This spring had been rough on him and you were more than happy to do your part to cheer up one of your closest friends.

Morgan hmms, in a way like he’s pretending to be casual about it, but he changes the subject as he switches lanes to pull onto the highway.

-----

Morgan has a whole itinerary for the next few days, prior to the wedding, but promises he’ll take you around to some of his favorite spots before you leave late next week. A quiet night tonight, dinner with his parents and brother tomorrow, and then the wedding stuff began the following day.

Much like his fancy Jeep, his fancy house in Vancouver is also nothing like the condo he owns in Toronto. You wouldn’t go so far as to say that his condo is...edgy, but it’s pretty modern? The house here in Vancouver is larger, sure, but reminds you a lot of the house you grew up in...or well, a larger and fancier version of it.

“Gonna give me a tour?” You turn to Morgan, who’s standing next to you almost awkwardly, as you look up at the beautiful house in front of you. Your bags are still in his hands, and you nudge his arm playfully, reaching for one, but he won’t let you grab it, smiling back at you as he starts to lead you in.

The inside is just as nice, and even though it’s clear that his mom and interior decorator have done a lot of work on it, there’s still a lot of Mo touches too. Each one makes you smile, the ones he points out in his tour and the ones that he doesn’t, until he finally leads you upstairs, dropping your things in one of the spare rooms. “Did I-“

“If the next words out of your mouth are say thank you, I’m walking out of this house.” You warn him.

“-ask what you want to do for dinner tonight?” Morgan finishes lamely and you laugh.

“That sushi place you always hype up?”

Morgan smiles. “Anything you want.” He says, and then, instead of the thank you that you know he wants to say, he pulls you in for a hug and squeezes tightly, before letting go. “Change and we’ll go?”

“Shower, change, and we’ll go.” You correct, dying to get the feel of airplane off you. “45 minutes.”

Morgan looks at you knowingly. “Sure, uh huh.” He says, nodding like he knows it’ll be much closer to an hour, an hour and fifteen, and you laugh, shoving at his shoulder before he makes you want to stretch it out to an hour and a half on purpose.

-----

Morgan’s parents might be the nicest people in the world, but they’re also a little...odd? Like, you’re not trying to be mean, because just like Morgan, they truly are the absolute sweetest, but, like, they just keep smiling at you with this knowing smile, like they know something that you don’t and it’s just...weird.

But they welcome you with open arms, when the two of you show up to dinner on your second night in town, hugging you just as tightly as they hug their own son, maybe even tighter than they hug the son who still lives in the same province as them.

“We’re so excited to finally meet you!” Morgan’s mom gushes, once you get settled in their kitchen with a glass of wine, which at least explains the weirdness a little. “

“You guys too.” You admit. You’ve heard so much about them, his parents and brother, over the years of friendship with Morgan; it’s nice to finally put faces to names, to stories. “Thanks for having me tonight.” Next to you, Morgan nudges you, a grin on his face. You can practically hear him. Stop saying thank you, like you’ve been saying to him for the past day.

“Oh stop!” She says, practically in time with his nudge. “Morgan tells us you’re a doctor now!” It’s said with pride, like you may as well be one of her own children who’s done something great.

“Yeah!” You smile, swirling the wine around a little, and then, because you don’t want there to be any confusion. “Not that kind of doctor; you should still call 911 if something happens.”

His dad laughs and his mom beams. “What kind of doctor then?” His dad asks, and you spend a while talking with his parents about epidemiology and your dissertation- his mom, it turns out, works in a similar field, and it isn’t long before the two of you are rolling your eyes about some research that just came out.

“What?” You ask Morgan, laughing, when your conversation breaks out, and she has to go check on dinner, at his dad’s request, before he burns it all entirely.

“I just forgot how excited you get about infectious diseases.”

“Can’t believe you’ve been out here this whole time knowing that your mom and I both exist and haven’t introduced us.” You announce. “The rudeness, the hearsay.”

“I don’t think that’s how that word’s used.” Morgan cackles.

“Oh, sorry, are you a doctor?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with knowing how that word is used!” He protests, laughing.

You ignore him. “If you even think of keeping her from me when they come to Toronto…”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and squeezes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

-----

“Are you ready yet?” Morgan calls, and you take one last look in the mirror on the wall, smoothing the pleats in your dress. “We’re going to be late!”

“But it’s gonna be worth it!” You sing-song as you descend the stairs to meet him in the living room.

“Is it ev-” He cuts off abruptly, eyes wide and swallowing visibly as he cuts off. “Wow, okay then.”

“Worth it.” You wink at him, brushing past him to grab your purse.

Morgan’s laughing as he picks up his keys, this soft and gentle thing that you can’t help but smile at. “Yeah, I should’ve known it would be.”

“You’ll know better for tomorrow!” You tease, and breeze past him to get in the car.

The ride to his cousin’s rehearsal dinner isn’t far, spent mostly laughing as you keep switching the station from anything Morgan changes it back to. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, you’re both giggling as you enter, flagged down almost immediately by Morgan’s mom.

“Look at you two!” She gushes.

“Mom.” Morgan says dryly. “Come on.”

She smiles at him indulgently. “Make sure you say hi to your cousin.”

“Yeah, of course.” Morgan nods, grabbing your hand to pull you away. “Just after we hit the bar.” He mutters and you giggle.

His cousin, the bride, and her husband-to-be seem to have the same idea, and it’s just as you’re turning away, wine glasses in hand, that you nearly run into them.

“Oh!” Ashley beams excitedly, once Morgan introduces you. “Hi!”

“Congratulations!” You return the excitement. She’s so bubbly and bright; it’s easy to do, even though you don’t know her. “You guys look so great tonight; you’re going blow us all away tomorrow.”

“She’s going to blow me away tomorrow.” Dylan jokes, but you can tell by the twinkle in his eye that he’s entirely serious.

“Oh stop.” Ashley knocks his arm. “And you too,” She gestures at you. “You look amazing! How’d you do your hair like that?”

“This?” She nods and you walk her through it quickly; it’s a look that’s so much more simple than it looks and she’s gasping by the time you’re done.

“Ok, mhmm.” She nods. “I’m getting your number from Morgan later so you can go over that with me again because I’m definitely going to forget.”

Morgan flicks a piece of your hair. “It’s a hairstyle, what could you possibly forget?”

You and Ashley exchange a look. “I got you.” You reassure her as you both laugh at him.

“Men, honestly.” She shakes her head, as Morgan and Dylan protest, but then before you and Ashley can talk any more, she and Dylan are being called away, and there’s promises for you all to catch up tomorrow at the wedding.

“You can’t have her phone number unless you promise not to talk about me.” Morgan says.

“Fat chance.” You tell him. “But nice try.”

From there, you start making your way back to his parents, stopping off to chat quickly with relatives he recognizes (and once, ducking purposefully into a small crowd to avoid an aunt he doesn’t want to see). You feel like it shouldn’t be surprising how nice his family is, given how genuine Morgan is, but each person you meet welcomes you so warmly, with kind words and open arms.

“You must talk about me a lot.” You tease, as you two start making your way to your table.

Morgan shrugs. “More than I’d realized apparently.” You cackle and he laughs; it’s familiar and easy, but then you’re easily distracted by the appetizers coming to the table and fighting Morgan for extra of your favorites-also familiar and easy.

-----

It’s another morning of Morgan waiting impatiently for you, being rewarded with his gaping jaw dropped, and teasing him the entire ride to the wedding, before he easily gets his revenge when you tear up at the ceremony.

“You don’t even know these people!” He nudges you forward toward his cousin in the reception line right after the ceremony. “And you’re going to cry like that?”

“It was a beautiful ceremony!” You defend. You’d been right yesterday; Ashley had easily blown everyone away from the moment she’d entered the room. Their vows were incredible; you didn’t understand how anyone wasn’t crying.

Morgan snickers, nudging you forward again. “God, what do you do at weddings you actually know the people at?” He pauses as you both step closer another, like the idea has just come to him. “Oh man, what are going to do at your own wedding?”

“Bawl my eyes out, obviously.” You say dryly. “Tell my future husband to bring tissues.” You move up, next in line for Ashley and Dylan. “You clearly didn’t get the message.”

“What’d you do?” Ashley pokes him; you guess whoever was in front of you was a guest she didn’t know all that well because they’ve moved along pretty quickly.

“Me? I’d never.” Morgan says innocently, ducking down to kiss her cheek.

“I’m just giving him a hard time.” You agree and she grins, shocking you when she pulls you in for a hug.

“He probably deserves it.” She says cheerfully.

“Wow, I see family loyalty goes a long way here, huh.” Morgan deadpans.

Ashley gives him a look. “Not for much longer, I guess, though?” She nudges him.

“Oh I see how it is, you’ve been married for all of five minutes and suddenly Dylan’s family is better than ours?” Morgan teases.

Ashley blinks. “That is...not how I meant that at all.” She says, but before she can say anything else to you, the couple behind the two of you starts sighing impatiently, and you all realize how long you’ve been talking for. You quickly congratulate her and then move along to Dylan as well, before stepping out of line and moving towards the reception area.

The bridal party was quick to get the reception started after the ceremony, so when you and Morgan make your way over, there’s already a decent sized group chatting and drinking. You both grab drinks from the bar and make your way to a group of his cousins, chatting for a while and laughing along as they’re sure to include you in all of their jokes.

When it comes time to start making your way to your table for dinner, you excuse yourself to the bathroom quickly, running into Morgan’s grandmother when you’re there, who had the same idea as you it seems.

She lights up when she sees you fixing your hair in the mirror, stepping up to wash her hands. “It looks great.” She assures you and you smile, thanking her. “Are you having a good time?”

You nod, following her out so the two of you can make your way back to the reception. “Such a good time! Everyone’s been amazing and Ashley and Dylan are beautiful; it’s been a great weekend!”

“It’ll be great to be all be here again,” Morgan’s grandmother smiles at you and you return it politely. “Next summer.” She adds, like an afterthought, and you shrug. She’d know better than you what the upcoming engagements look like. You can barely remember the names of the people you’re seated with tonight.

“If Morgan brings me back then.” You throw her a finger gun and she laughs-loudly.

“Oh, you’re a trip!” She nudges you gently, laughing. “Such a doll. Let’s get another glass of wine together before we go back, shall we?”

“I will never say no to that.” You’re pretty sure you still have a couple minutes to spare before you need to sit down.

His grandmother links arms with you. “My kinda gal.” She beams and her smile is contagious, just like Morgan’s is when he’s really happy, so it’s not hard to grin along with her as she tugs you along for another glass of rosé.

-----

The evening’s winding down- the wedding long over and the after party beginning to do so as well. Almost all of the older relatives have made their way home or to their hotel rooms but there’s a few sloppy cousins and friends still going hard (you’ve got some serious concerns how the one groomsman is even going to make it upstairs). Ashley and Dylan keep stealing glances at each other, like they’re wondering if it’s late enough for them to sneak away yet, but each time they look like they’re going to, someone calls for another toast.

Morgan nudges you. “Hey.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a couple cigars. “Outside with me?”

You think about it for a second. Usually, you love a good cigar-and you’re sure that Morgan’s managed to acquire a good one- but tonight? “Not really in the mood, but I’ll come out.”

He grins, a little crooked, and offers his hand to help you up from the couch the two of you have been sitting on. Outside, the weather is beautiful, one of those crystal clear nights with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. He lights the cigar while you continue to sip at your wine, the two of you standing in comfortable silence, until the door opens again.

“Cigars without me?” His brother grumbles. “I see how it is now.”

“Yup, just left you behind on purpose.” Morgan says shamelessly, but he’s already pulling the spare out of his pocket and handing it over.

“Unsurprising.”

“Yeah?” Morgan asks, amusedly. “Why’s that?”

His brother gives him a look, and then, when Morgan doesn’t react, looks over at you, but you just shrug. “Just promise you won’t forget about me once you pop the question.”

You choke on your drink; Morgan looks just as shocked, the cigar halfway to his mouth. “What?” He says finally.

For the first time, his brother looks unsure. “I think...we all just thought...once you brought her home, that was the only thing holding you back?”

“Oh my god.” Morgan says breathlessly.

“I’m not-” You add helplessly. “We’re not-”

“Oh.” His brother winces. “Wait, so you’re not…” He trails off and the silence between the three of you becomes so thick it’s almost palpable. You don’t know what to do, what to say. What he even means. “You’re not together?” He says finally, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else.

You can relate. You shake your head slowly, notice Morgan’s doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

“Um.” His brother continues. “And-and you haven’t been-together?” Another head shake. “Wow. A lot of people are going to be very disappointed.”

“A lot of people?” Morgan repeats. “Who...who all thinks this?” But you don’t need an answer to know and apparently, he doesn’t either. The silence thickens somehow; you didn’t think it was possible.

“Um.” His brother’s already backing away, even as he speaks. “I’m gonna go now. Before I say anything else to make this worse.”

He’s gone before you can tell him you’re not sure that’s possible, leaving you and Morgan in the loudest silence you’ve ever experienced.

It’s abundantly clear Morgan feels it too, from the way he won’t even meet your eyes, will barely even look at you, actually. And there’s so much to say here, but well, “You never brought Laura to meet your family? Never let them meet her at home?” Apparently, they really weren’t as serious as you’d thought.

Morgan laughs hollowly, finally meeting your eyes. “That probably should have been a clue, huh?”

“A little bit of a red flag.” You agree. It’d been how many years? Morgan’s tight with his family, that much you knew before you’d come out here and only became clearer as you met them. “Why...why didn’t you ever introduce them?”

Morgan sighs. “I think-I always knew something wasn’t right. And I just didn’t want to admit it?” He sighs again. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”

“You didn’t know.” You tell him gently. “And I wanted to come.” You remind him. “I was happy to!” You pause for a second. “I was happy to come across the country to a wedding with you and your family with barely a second thought. So maybe we both need to re-examine what happened here this weekend.”

“Maybe we don’t.” Morgan says simply.

“What?” You frown, confused.

“You were happy to fly across the country for a wedding with me and my family.” Morgan repeats, with a small smile on his face. “And then you come here and meet my entire family, and they think I’m ready to propose to you, because you're the girl they hear me talk about all the time.” Your jaw drops-is he saying...what you think he’s saying-and his smile grows into a grin. “I think this thing between us has been more than either of us have been able to admit because we’ve had other things going on- school or hockey or-”

“Other girlfriends?” You supply teasingly, when he trails off, like he’s afraid to mention her name.

He nods. “There’ve been other boyfriends, too.” He nudges you, just as teasing.

“There have.” You admit, because it’s not a lie, but none of them have ever worked out, for a variety of reasons, but you can’t help but think, that now that he’s mentioning it, Morgan might have been a part of those other reasons.

He’s back to smiling again when he continues, leaning against you slightly. “I think we owe it to ourselves to see what we could be.”

You lean back against him. “You do, do you?”

“I do.” He nods.

“Little early for that, don’t you think?” It takes a second for your joke to land, but once it does, he cracks up and it brings a smile to your face.

“We are at a wedding.” He grins, nudging you playfully. “Who knows, maybe someday it’ll be ours?”

-----

a bit in the future

It’s one of those beautiful sunny days where the sun is shining with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours.

Unfortunately, you’ve got a huge project due at the end of the week, so while Morgan’s been enjoying the lake all day, you’ve been sitting at a table on the dock, staring at your laptop, tapping away at your keyboard, and ignoring his increasingly annoying calls for attention.

It’s harder to ignore when he comes up next to you, wrapping his wet arms around your shoulders. “Morgan.” You try to shake him off. “Come on, gimme like ten minutes and then I’ll come in.”

“Promise?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say because if you can get this one last thing done you’ll be ahead of your goal for the day.

It works; Morgan sits down next to you quietly, scrolling through his phone for a bit, and then, jumps up and runs inside the cabin, and you jump on the opportunity of quiet to get ahead even further, losing yourself in your next bit of project.

“Hey,” Morgan says casually, and it scares you a bit, his return far quieter than he’s been all day. “What are you doing the weekend of July 8th?”

“I don’t know, that’s like a year away!.” You snap, turning to tell him to stop annoying you, only for your jaw to drop when you see him down on one knee.

“Want to get married then?” He says, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face, like he’s been waiting for this reaction, like it was everything and more.

“Oh my god! Are you serious?” He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a ring; you gasp. “Morgan!”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” Your computer long forgotten in the face of an engagement ring, you throw yourself at Morgan, who catches you easily, like he was prepared for this. He probably was. He knows you better than anyone; he’s your best friend and so much more. He barely manages to slip the ring on your finger before you’re kissing him. “I love you!”

“I love you, too.” He grins. “Are you sure you’re ready to take this jump with me?”

“Of course!” You beam, but it hits you just a minute too late. He’s already jumping in the water. “You’re the worst.” You sputter out at him, purposefully spitting lake water at his face.

He doesn’t even look like he minds. “For better or worse.” He grins.

“That’s not what that’s referring to!” You splash him and he splashes back but before it can devolve into a full on splash attack, he’s pulling you into his arms.

“I mean it though.” He says, kissing you again. “And I’ll tell you again, next summer, at our wedding.”

Our wedding. The words sound almost unreal, too good to be true. “I’ll be the one in white.” You promise. “Or, well, maybe ivory.” You say and it’s hard to kiss Morgan then when he’s laughing so hard.

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly fanfic #morgan rielly imagine #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #my hockey fics

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p-redux · 3 years

Note

Gloating about being an insider during a time of sadness is DISGUSTING

I'm not gloating, I'm posting INFO and FACTS like I always do...and showing restraint and discretion in not posting it sooner, and not posting the details, which I haven’t and won’t.

But you know what IS disgusting? Here’s a LONG list, and by no means, a comprehensive one, of what Extreme Shippers, Former Extreme Shippers, and Assorted Haters have done that is VERY DISGUSTING. I’ll write it stream of consciousness-like and not in order. Put your feet up and grab a tall drink. Here we go...

Click on Keep Reading

Extreme Shippers found Cait’s condo when she used to live in Los Angeles and sat outside for hours waiting to see if they saw her with Sam. ES blackmailed and coerced a minor, a 14 year old girl who was a super fan of Abbie’s sister, Charlotte Salt, into giving them info regarding Abbie and Sam. The girl was following Abbie’s locked Instagram account and could see the Sam related stuff Abbie was posting. ES won her trust, she gave them info about Abbie and Sam, they then told her if she didn’t screencap and give them the Sam related pics on Abbie’s IG account, they would tell Abbie and Charlotte that she had been giving them info. Sick doesn’t begin to describe it. ES tried to dox and did dox anyone and everyone who got in the way of their SamCait ship. Doxed, as in PUBLICLY posted, the names, addresses, pictures of their houses, professions, husbands’ and children’s names, employer names of ANYONE and EVERYONE who posted something to contradict the ship. They even posted pictures of their children. Again, messing with minors is a big no no, and usually a crime. ES created fake Ashley Madison accounts (that’s the website for married people who want to meet people to cheat on their spouses with) and pretended to be non-shippers’ husbands to try to make it seem like the husband was cheating. It got so bad, that in some cases, non-shippers had to get restraining orders, cease and desist orders, get the police, lawyers, and in TWO cases, the F B I involved. Yes, the F B I has come a knocking on a couple of Extreme Shipper’s doors because of their ILLEGAL actions. ES lured some of Sam’s girlfriends into believing they had their best interest at heart, gained their trust, and they PUBLICLY posted their PRIVATE messages. Luckily, in the case of one Sam’s ex, Abbie Salt, she later did confirm she and Sam dated, which totally negated everything that shipper had said Abbie told her. ES directly BULLIED and HARASSED fans, Outlander cast, crew, journalists, reporters, family and friends of Sam and Cait. ES contacted people’s employers to try to get them fired...literally messed with people’s livelihoods. They tried to get the Outlander drivers fired because they started posting stuff against shippers AFTER shippers turned on them. ES waited outside Sam and Cait’s residences in whatever location they were in to try to “catch them together.” Taking pics at someone’s private residence is very different than getting pics or video in PUBLIC places. For years, ES have manipulated pictures, gifs, video to sell the SamCait LIE to their gullible shipper friends. They’ve made money off selling these lies. ES have ostracized and banished any shipper friends who acknowledged the ship wasn’t real. They sent their best friend to Tony’s bar in London to try to prove he and Cait weren’t together, and when she unwittingly found out they were, they then bullied her and kicked her out of shipperville. ES created multiple hate sock accounts for the SOLE purpose of CYBERBULLYING Sam’s girlfriends and dates. Any time Sam dates a woman, ES follow the same pattern. They contact the women’s employers, parents, siblings, other family members, friends, ex-boyfriends trying to malign the women. Some examples: They pretended to have gone to high school with Mackenzie Mauzy and spread lies that she had a bad reputation in high school. They spread lies that Gia was a paid escort. ES contacted social media outlets to spread LIES about Sam and Cait and their significant others. Contacted anyone associated with Cait and Tony’s wedding trying to intimidate them into saying there was no wedding. They posted the picture of a waiter at one of the Outlander premieres and tried to pass him off as Tony to prove Tony didn’t go with Cait. ES have continuously posted pics of Cait with her naturally poochy belly trying to prove that she’s been pregnant with Sam’s children for the last 7 years. ES publicly questioned her if she was pregnant. Sam haters and disgruntled ex-shippers have spread rumors that Sam is gay. Nothing wrong with being gay, but what is wrong is spreading LIES. ES have badmouthed Cait’s HUSBAND, Tony McGill saying he was: her assistant, gay, her gay assistant, a loser, broke, boring, ugly, her purse holder, etc. And trust me, what I’ve posted above is the SHORT list.

And that’s not even mentioning what they’ve done to ME. Ever since I committed the unforgivable sin of posting source info CONFIRMING Sam and Cait were never a couple, and Cait was dating Tony, way back in 2014, this is what SamCait Extreme Shippers have done to me. Tagged me endlessly when I had my Twitter account telling me things like “Die, b*tch,” “Die, c*nt,” “You should be gang rap*d,” “Drop a house on her,” “You’re worse than AIDS,” and those are the “nice” comments. They literally BULLIED me every day, all day for YEARS. They also created hate accounts on Twitter and Instagram to mock me, parody me, and post lies about me. They were convinced they’d found my real identity (based on circumstantial evidence, which I’ve countered and can counter with the actual truth), and proceeded to post THAT woman’s FULL NAME, city where she lived, profession, reported her to her licensing board, and created a fake Twitter account pretending to be her. She got a lawyer and was able to get everything taken down, but they basically tried to ruin her life. They’ve spread LIES about me being the one harassing THEM and managed to convince over 60 dopes with disposable incomes to give them money for a GoFundMe campaign where they hired a Private Investigator to try to find me. They started a witchhunt letter writing campaign, hashtagged it on Twitter, #takebackourfandom, or some such bullsh*t, tagged everyone in Outlander cast and crew “telling” on me and even sent letters and e-mails to Starz and Sony executives trying to...I don’t know what. Hahahaha. It’s so ridiculous, my brain is scrambling as I write this. They told their followers not to believe anything I say and that I’m evil personified. ALL of that and more because they couldn’t face the FACT that their SamCait ship NEVER EXISTED and I was the one that confirmed it. When I think about it, I can’t believe I lived through all that. But I stayed because I knew I had the TRUTH on my side and that eventually it would all come out, which of course it did. And because I’m a bad bitch who doesn’t scare easily. EVERYTHING I’m referring to here is well DOCUMENTED with screencap proof. Or just ask anyone who’s been in the fandom long enough, they’ll attest that what I’m saying did actually happen, and that Extreme Shippers, Former Shippers, and Haters did do all of that.

So, Anon, when you come at me with “disgusting” things in this fandom, please refer to the above before you start pointing fingers at me.

PS. “Anon,” I’ve got your Los Angeles/Anaheim Samsung Galaxy S10e IP address tagged. So, send me another hate Ask and you’ll get blocked. And don’t bother using a VPN...once the tag is on, it follows the user no matter what IP they use. Now you know.

#extremeshippers #haters #samheughan #caitrionabalfe #disgusting #trolls #bullies #cybercrimes #abbiesalt #mackenziemauzy #missgiamarie #witchhunt #tonymcgill #charlottesalt

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chicgeekgirl89 · 3 years

Text

Puzzles and Limes and Family Times

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes

Summary: Parenting kids is tough. Growing up and parenting your parents is even harder. Luckily T.K. and Carlos have each other to help figure things out. A post-ep for 2x11 "Slow Burn." Thanks to @bluenet13 for the help with the spicy food stuff and for inspiring what will likely be a prequel. And for just generally always being a supportive friend!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“How about a book?” Carlos asked.

T.K. shook his head. “He has books. I want something different. Something that will really distract him.”

“I still think a couple DVD’s might do the trick,” Carlos told him.

“He has every streaming service known to man. If he can’t find it on one of those, it’s probably not worth watching.”

“T.K. as nice as it is that you want to get your dad a gift for his surgery, maybe we should think about it a little more since you don’t seem to know what you want.”

They’d circled the aisles of Target more than once, T.K. turning down every one of Carlos’ suggestions. “I just want something that’s going to keep him busy,” T.K. said. “He’s terrible at sitting still. I’m afraid if we don’t do something he’ll try and run a half marathon three days after surgery and kill himself.”

“Babe I don’t think there’s anything in the world that’s going to keep your dad recovering the way you want,” Carlos said. “He’s kind of a strong willed guy.”

T.K. sighed and turned the cart into the next aisle. “I know. I know, I just have to at least try.” He paused and grabbed a box off the nearest shelf. “What about this?”

Carlos raised his eyebrows. “A puzzle? Your dad doesn’t strike me as someone with the patience for puzzles.”

“Exactly. Maybe this will help him learn some. And,” T.K. tapped the box for emphasis, “this one has dogs playing poker on it. He loves dogs and poker.”

“That is true,” Carlos said, keeping his tone even and his expression neutral.

T.K. shot him a look of fond exasperation. “I know you’re humoring me but I’m going to pretend that was genuine.”

“And now you can humor me by picking out new towels,” Carlos said with a grin.

T.K. groaned. “I thought we already picked new towels.”

“We picked new master bath towels. We need some to match the guest bath.” Carlos grabbed his hand, towing him along toward the home goods aisles.

“I didn’t realize you were going to use my moving in as an excuse to redecorate the entire condo,” T.K. said.

“I want it to feel like our place.” Carlos stopped and picked up a washcloth. “How do we feel about cream?”

“I feel like towels are towels. Especially in the guest bath.”

Carlos rolled his eyes and moved further down the row. “We have guests coming next week. Everything needs to be perfect.”

“Speaking of which, are you sure you want to invite my dad to dinner with your parents?” T.K. asked as Carlos silently debated the merits of blue versus off-white towels.

Carlos looked at him in surprise. “He’s your dad. Of course I want him there.”

“It’s just…he can be…a lot sometimes,” T.K. said.

Carlos raised his eyebrows and T.K. held up a finger in warning. “If you say I’m also a lot sometimes I’m taking the keys and leaving you here to Uber home.”

His boyfriend smiled and turned back to the towels. “My parents want to meet him. And your dad is very charming.” He looked at T.K., eyes sparkling with mirth. “Just like you.”

Now it was T.K.’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Besides,” Carlos said, dropping the blue towels into the cart, “having your dad there will take some of the attention off of me so my mom doesn’t tell every, single embarrassing story about my childhood. Instead your dad and my dad can try to one-up each other talking about crazy calls they’ve been on.”

T.K. wasn’t convinced yet. “He’s just really not been himself lately. And I have no idea what his mood is going to be like post-surgery. I don’t want him to leave a bad impression with your parents.”

“I’m sure it will be fine. Besides, it would be good for your dad to get out of the house. Be around family.”

T.K. sighed. “I guess at least if he’s with us I’ll know he’s safe. And it will give him something to do to keep his mind off how bored he is.”

“I thought that was what the puzzle was for,” Carlos said with a teasing grin as they walked toward the checkout.

T.K. sent him a withering look. “Just let me pretend it’s going to work and not sit on a shelf in the closet until the next time he has a garage sale. It makes me feel better.”

Carlos nudged him good-naturedly. “I will let you keep your delusion.” He stopped pushing the cart and leaned against the handle. “But it’s going to cost you.”

T.K. took a step closer and bit his lip. “Oh is it?” he asked, wondering exactly how randy Carlos was going to get in the kitchen appliance aisle.

“Yep.” Carlos grinned. “We’re having camarones a la diabla for dinner tonight.”

T.K.’s face fell. “What? No! Come on I already looked at towels with you!”

Carlos just smiled and sauntered away with the cart, leaving T.K. alone in the middle of the aisle to hurry after him. “Okay but only a little spicy all right? Not ‘accidentally almost kill T.K. spicy’ like last time?”

“That was your own fault and you know it,” Carlos called back.

T.K. huffed. “That’s exactly why we don’t need a repeat!”

Carlos stopped and let him catch up. “If we’re going to live together we have to build up your tolerance to heat. Don’t worry,” he said, patting T.K.’s cheek, “I’ll be gentle.”

T.K. eyed him warily. “Nice try Reyes. I know behind that smile is a conniving, spice loving, diabolical monster.”

“What if I promise you homemade ice cream for dessert?”

“What because I’m a five-year-old and can be bribed to eat my dinner?” T.K. asked.

Carlos cocked his head and raised his eyebrows.

“Fine,” T.K. said grudgingly. “But I want chocolate.”

“Then chocolate it is.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

T.K. had never seen his boyfriend panicked before. Upset yes, excited for sure, but the most emotionally intense his mild mannered boyfriend typically got was moderately annoyed. Tonight however, he seemed like he might actually be about to lose his shit. And as intrigued as T.K. was to see where that might lead, a little voice in his head reminded him that Carlos losing his shit five minutes before his parents were due to arrive was probably not going to leave a favorable impression.

“Where are the tortilla chips?” Carlos asked, his voice sharp and pitched a note or two higher than usual. “I thought you picked them up on your way home today.”

“Right here,” T.K. said smoothly, opening the cupboard and pulling out the bag of homemade chips he’d purchased from a favorite restaurant down the street.

“And you told them to make the guacamole fresh right?”

“Yes, I stood there for fifteen minutes while the guy went out and hand picked the avocados,” T.K. said, trying not to let too much amusement color his tone.

Over the last few days the tension in their home seemed to have changed direction. As T.K. had grown more comfortable with the idea of his dad coming for dinner, (despite the one minor, running into a burning building incident that T.K. was trying not to think about) Carlos had gotten increasingly tense.

The condo, always in a state of near perfect cleanliness now sparkled like something out of a magazine. And the list of instructions Carlos had left for T.K. to complete after his shift had been so detailed and exact that T.K. wondered if he’d stayed up all night writing it. Personally he thought that doing a deep clean of the refrigerator and painting over scuffs on the baseboards was a little bit of overkill, but he’d done as asked. Now, as he watched his boyfriend dart from one side of the kitchen to the other in a slightly manic state, he was wondering if he might need to intervene.

Carlos pushed past him to take the perfectly made guacamole out and put it in a bowl. “Did you put a clean hand towel in the bathroom? The blue one?”

“Blue? I thought you said black.”

Carlos froze and glowered at him. “I’m kidding,” T.K. said, holding up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Blue towel is freshly laundered and in the bathroom. I’m not sure exactly how the color of a hand towel could ruin the evening but I certainly didn’t want to risk finding out.”

Carlos’ face dropped a bit, emotional exhaustion pulling at him. “I know I’m being crazy.”

“Oh I think we surpassed crazy about two hours ago when you were picking individual pieces of lint off the throw pillows,” T.K. said with an amused smile. “Relax. Tonight is going to be great. You’re making a damn soufflé. How could anyone not be impressed by that?”

“Maybe I should have gone with something more traditional,” Carlos said, running an agitated hand through his curls for the hundredth time that evening. “My parents are traditional people. But your dad is coming so I wanted to pull out all the stops.” He peered through the oven door at the soufflé. “Maybe I should have done the beef. I’m going to take it out just in case.”

“Carlos, Carlos whoa, hey,” T.K. stopped him by putting his hands on his shoulders. “The soufflé is going to be great. Everyone is going to love it. Do not take that beef out of the refrigerator.”

Carlos’ eyes widened. “Oh my god I forgot to put the ice trays in the freezer!”

“Whoa, hey, nope,” T.K. held on a little tighter and didn’t let him go. “You asked me to do that this morning. Let’s just go sit for a minute—“

“I need to—“

“What you need to do is take a few deep breaths and get yourself together,” T.K. told him, pushing him gently onto a bar stool.

“I just want it to be perfect.”

“Babe I know. But it’s not going to be. Nothing ever is, so you need to let got of that expectation. It will be a great dinner because everyone who’s coming loves you and wants you to be happy.”

Carlos slumped a bit, mussing his curls a little more with his hands. “I’m nervous.”

“I know. But I’m going to be right beside you the whole night. And nothing your parents say is going to make me upset. Or want to leave.” T.K. leaned a little closer as Carlos deliberately avoided making eye contact. “That’s what you’re really worried about right? Not that they’ll say something to make you upset, but that they might hurt me?”

Carlos chewed at the inside of his lip and covered T.K.’s hands with his own, twining their fingers together nervously. “They just might not be as careful with their words as I want them to be. Sometimes they speak without thinking. They have old biases, things from church and the family…”

T.K. brought one of Carlos’ hands up to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “I know the difference between willful hate and accidental ignorance. I’m not worried.” He ran a hand through Carlos’ hair, fixing some of the damage he’d done to himself. “And nothing, not even rude parents or a fallen soufflé, would ever make me want to leave you.”

T.K. watched as some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. “I love you,” Carlos said quietly.

“I love you too,” T.K. said, squeezing his hand.

There was a knock on the door and Carlos sucked in a deep breath. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

T.K. leaned forward so their lips met in a sweet kiss. “Absolutely.”

#911 Lone Star #Tarlos #Carlos Reyes #T.K. Strand #Tarlos Fanfic #Post-ep #Slow Burn #2x11 #Fluff #Anxious boys #They love each other #And are also a little over the top

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spine-buster · 3 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 29

A/N: There’s somewhat of a double update this week 🙊You’ll understand why at the end of the chapter 🙊

May 26th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was frantic.

The NHL had announced their Return to Play plan. Toronto was the chosen hub city for the eastern conference, naturally. They were Toronto. She’d be back at work.

None of that mattered.

William was back in Toronto.

But he was in quarantine. The government had instituted the policy and he was going to stick to it, obviously. And so was she, especially since he traveled from Florida, even though it was going to be hard. It meant that he was in Toronto, and Aberdeen knew he was in Toronto, but she was unable to see him. They’d have to communicate the same way as they did when he was in Tampa Bay, still, even though he was only a ten-minute walk away from her.

It killed her. It hurt worse than when he was in Tampa.

“The plan is already set,” he explained to her on the phone. “After the fourteen days I get to go back onto the ice. I think a few of the guys who stayed in Toronto will be there too. No more than five, though.”

“Yeah. Those are the rules.”

“Will you be there with Brendan?”

Aberdeen hadn’t even thought about it. She and Brendan had obviously kept in touch throughout quarantine, but he hadn’t mentioned needing her at Scotiabank Arena should any of the guys go in for a skate. “I don’t know, actually,” she admitted. “I’d have to ask.”

“Please ask,” he said quickly, causing Aberdeen to laugh. “If you’re there that day, when I’m back on the ice, I…Aberdeen, please just ask.”

“I will.”

***

May 29th, 2020

“Do you need me in that day, by the way?” Aberdeen asked Brendan on the phone, super-casually but also super-connivingly near the end of their call.

“Which day?”

“Any of the days, really,” she said, trying to sound even more casual than before. They’d gone through all the players, their whereabouts, and all the dates they would be available to go skate at the arena. “The seventh, the ninth – any of them.”

“Well…it’ll be nice to see your smiling face,” he said, and she knew by his tone he was looking down at his calendar. “How about you come in on just one of the days. You choose which one.”

“I’ll come on the ninth, the Tuesday,” she chose quickly. “Sunday is a day of worship, Brendan. You should know better.”

Brendan laughed on the other end. “It’ll be good to see you again, Aberdeen. Bring some of that humour with you. We’re gonna need it.”

***

June 3rd, 2020

“Six more days, minskatt.”

“Not that we’re counting.”

“When I get my hands on you…”

“Not if I get my hands on you first.”

***

June 7th, 2020

“Forty-eight hours.”

“It’s been sixty-one days, you know.”

“Sixty-one days?! Fuuuuuuck, Aberdeen.”

“You haven’t been buried in my pussy for sixty-one days, Willy.”

“Aberdeen—”

“My pussy’s so wet for you Willy.”

“You’ve gotta stop teasing me.”

***

June 9th, 2020

“A blazer, Aberdeen?” Brendan asked as he watched her walk into the office, a giddy smile on his face – not that anyone saw. Everyone was wearing a mask, and he was no exception. He wore a Leafs branded one, naturally. He had a bunch to give to Aberdeen, too – one for every day of the week. She walked into the office wearing a plain black mask. Typical of her.

“I needed to feel professional,” she said. “I’ve been in my condo in sweaters and tights for three months. Give me this moment.”

“Fine. Have it,” he smiled. “Set your stuff down and come with me. We’re going down to the ice.”

Aberdeen felt shivers running up and down her spine, and it wasn’t because of the ice. They made their way down to the locker room first, actually, where they saw Kyle on the way. She and him caught up quickly, with her asking about Leo and with Kyle asking about her writing. But then, like pure magic, and completely unannounced, there he was, in his hockey pants and socks. She swore her heart stopped beating. Sixty-one days.

William stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. He was wearing a mask, so she could only see his eyes. “Aberdeen,” he said, nodding at her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said. “Long time no see. How was Tampa?” she asked.

Only she could see the indignant look he was giving her with his eyes. It was a look he only saved for her when she was being ridiculous – in any way she could be ridiculous – so Brendan and Kyle were none the wiser, though she was sure if they really looked, they’d probably see it too. “It was good. Nice spending time with the siblings, you know. Were you okay here?”

She nodded. “Yeah, everything was fine on my end. Just stayed holed up in the condo, really. Kasha was working a lot from home so it was mostly just me writing and keeping quiet so she could still earn a living.”

“Well that’s good that she didn’t get laid off or anything,” he commented. “And your family? They’re okay?”

“They’re fine. Siena’s back at my parents’ place and finished off the school year. Camden is too, though school in general is a bit of a shit show right now.”

“Is that Aberdeen?!” a voice suddenly called out from inside the locker room. Before their dumb conversation could continue with Brendan and Kyle watching, she saw a maskless Zach Hyman in his full gear barreling towards her. “Aberdeen!” he extended his arms for a hug.

“No no no!” Kyle and Brendan screamed at the same time, putting their arms up like a forcefield around Aberdeen. “No hugging! Social distancing!”

Zach’s brows were furrowed before he finally remembered, rolling his eyes at himself. “Sorry. I’m so dumb. I completely forgot. I’m just excited to see you!”

“Me too, Zach,” she smiled, wishing he could see it. She hoped he at least saw her eyes crinkle from it. “It’s nice to be back, isn’t it?”

“You’re telling me,” he said. She didn’t even have to see his face to see he was smiling from ear to ear. He lived for hockey. “You coming out onto the ice with us?”

“If I’m allowed,” Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders, looking to Brendan and Kyle who were nodding their heads. “Might sit on the bench and pretend I’m Sheldon for a bit.”

***

did u tell kasha ur working late?

Yup

come over right when brendan lets u leave i can’t wait anymore

me neither

i got a boner just seeing u today in your work clothes

LOL WILL

minskatt im 100% serious this isnt funny

I’m actually dying Willy Thank god you were wearing your hockey pants We’ve waited over six weeks, you can’t wait longer?

NO I CAN’T MINSKATT

***

There were butterflies in Aberdeen’s stomach as she made her way into William’s condo building, into the elevator, and through the hallways. Still in her work clothes, she knocked frantically on his front door.

She didn’t have to wait long.

She didn’t even get the third knock in before he swung the door open, obviously waiting for her, grabbing her arm and pulling her in. She dropped her bag as he pulled her into him and immediately planted his lips on hers aggressively. Hands and lips and tongues happened all at once, and they were everywhere, and when the front door shut behind them William pushed Aberdeen up against it, lifting her up in his arms with her wrapping her legs around him. Aberdeen wrapped her arms around his shoulders and began running her fingers through his hair. It had gotten so long. So long. She’d seen the progression of the length on their FaceTime calls, but it was different seeing it in person. Sixty-one days. Sixty-one days since she’d seen him and she barely took in the sight of him when he opened the door.

“God I fucking missed you,” he mumbled quickly as his kisses moved from her lips to her neck.

“Let me see you,” she mumbled, stopping her hands from running through his hair to place them on either side of his face. She pulled his face away from her neck so she could look at him, really look at him. His eyes were as blue as ever, glossed over with love and lust and everything in between. His hair was as blonde as ever, long and luscious and every girl’s dream, really. A light stubble covered his face, and the stupidest mustache sat atop his lip, but because he was William, she couldn’t say a bad thing about it. It looked ridiculous, but she loved everything about it. His lips were pink and puffy and wet as she ran her thumb across them ever so gently. He was here. He was actually here. “Hi,” she said softly, their chests still heaving from the hot and heavy start.

“Hi minskatt,” he whispered back equally as softly, pursing his lips slightly as if to kiss her thumb.

“You’re here,” she smiled. “You’re finally here.”

“I never want to spend that much time apart again,” he said. “I can’t stand being away from you.”

“Me neither.”

“It was torture,” he continued. “All I thought about was you. How much I love you. How much I wanted to hold you in my arms like I’m doing now.”

Aberdeen smiled again, biting down on her bottom lip slightly. “Show me,” she said. “Show me how much you love me.”

He planted his lips on hers again, just as frantic and fiercely as the last time, continuing where he left off. Aberdeen began shimmying out of her blazer, letting it fall to the floor as he adjusted her in his arms and carried her through the apartment, setting her down finally on his couch. Hovering over her now, with her legs still wrapped around him, Aberdeen tugged at his hoodie. “Take this off,” she mumbled, pulling it over his shoulders and throwing it behind them.

Reluctantly, William’s lips left Aberdeen’s as he pulled back and started unzipping her pants. “Willy,” her chest heaved up and down. He was working quickly. He ignored his name as he pulled her pants off. When they were off, he hooked his fingers into her underwear and pulled them off too. “Willy—”

William was a man possessed. There was nothing Aberdeen could say – instead, she watched as he gave her one final look with his blue eyes before he dove into her pussy. She bucked her hips almost automatically but William brought his arm up to hold her down. “Ooooooh fuck, Willy,” she sighed out.

“I missed this,” he mumbled, humming against her lips as he lapped and sucked, making her squirm underneath his arm. “You taste so good for me.”

“I missed this too. I missed your mouth on my pussy,” she strained to get out, trying to savour the feeling as much as possible since she hadn’t felt it in sixty-one days. When he looked up at her from in between her legs, she smiled. “You look so good between my thighs, baby,” she cooed, running her fingers through his hair and gripping it slightly.

He hummed again, sending shivers down her spine. “When you touched yourself was it like this?” he asked.

“No,” she responded automatically, because nothing was the same as having William’s lips and tongued glued to her pussy. “Nothing is as good as this, Willy. Nothing.”

“Can I put my fingers in your pussy?”

She nodded furiously. “Please Willy.”

He pushed two fingers in slowly as he sucked on her clit, making her squirm even more so than before. “Oooooh, Willy,” she moaned. He curled his fingers inside of her like he always did and she gasped. “Willy—Willy—”

“Feel good?”

“Feels fucking amazing,” she said. “Willy, I—I—”

“What do you want, Aberdeen?”

“I want to suck your cock, Willy,” she admitted. “I want to suck your cock so bad.”

He chuckled, and she could feel it, and his eyes narrowed as he could practically feel the shivers run through her body. “Not yet. Not until you come on my face.”

Aberdeen gulped. “But Willy—”

“No. Not until you come on my face, baby.”

“Willyyyy—” she begged, until she felt his fingers curl inside of her again. “Oh fuck, Willy, fuck – please,” she huffed.

“Let me taste you, Aberdeen. I need to taste you.”

As he continued his lapping, Aberdeen moaned and cried out at every opportunity, and when she began tugging on his hair and pulling his face even further against her wet pussy, he knew she was close. With a few more curls of his fingers and sucking on her clit, she cried out his name over and over again as she became a screaming, writhing mess on his couch. He lapped up every single last drop of her as he watched her chest heave up and down from the pleasure, from the pleasure he caused. When he was finally finished, placing butterfly kisses against her pussy and thighs, he made his way back up and gave her a hot, slobbered kiss.

She could taste herself on his lips, and she loved it, but what she wanted more was to taste him. So when his lips left hers, she made sure to look him in the eye. “Sit,” she said, putting her hands on his chest.

“Minskatt—” he said, placing a hand on hers.

“Sit,” she ordered more sternly, pushing him back so he’d listen to her command. He sat on the couch with his legs spread apart and watched as she climbed on top of him but made her way between his legs. She took off her top, leaving her just in her lace bra that she wore especially for him. Her hands went to the waistband of his sweatpants and she pulled them down, along with his boxers, as eagerly as ever. When his cock bounced up, already hard, she smiled up at him. “Mmmmm,” she hummed, running her fingernails up and down his thick thighs. “I’ve been dreaming about your cock in my mouth, Willy.”

“I’ve been dreaming abo—oh fuuuuuck,” he groaned as Aberdeen wasted no time in licking the underside of his cock from the base to the tip before covering the tip with her lips. “Aberdeen—”

William couldn’t finish his sentence – or thought, really – because Aberdeen took his cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue around expertly. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The amount of times he thought about this very thing while in Tampa…and now it was happening. He shuddered thinking about it, feeling it happening right now. “Your mouth feels incredible on my cock,” he managed to get out, looking down at her with hooded eyes.

“Pull my hair, Willy,” she said quickly, putting a quick kiss on the tip of his cock.

It was his turn to gulp. He ran his fingers through her hair – the hair he loved so much – and tugged on it slightly, pushing her back down onto his cock. She moaned in response. “That okay?”

She nodded even though his cock was halfway down her throat. She looked up at him again once she came back up – once he allowed her to. “Harder, Willy. It’s okay. I want your cock down my throat.”

“Ab—”

“It’s okay, Willy,” she dug her nails into his thighs. “I want it.”

A deep growl rose in his chest as he tugged on her hair again, pushing her mouth down his cock slowly. As he watched his cock disappear into her mouth, his pupils dilated. When she looked up at him with her beady eyes, he almost lost it. She began bobbing her head up and down his cock with his direction, the tugging of her hair and the slight force he was using making her wet all over again. Much like William, Aberdeen derived pleasure from knowing she was giving William that same pleasure, so seeing his chest heave, seeing him lean his head back in pleasure – it was all she wanted, everything she dreamed of for the past sixty-one days away from him.

“D’you want to come down my throat?” she asked, his cock slick and wet from her spit.

“No,” he said sternly. “Get…get up here.”

“Willy—”

He tugged her by the arm, bringing her back up so he could kiss her and pick her back up again as they made their way to his bedroom. He plopped her down to the bed, opening his bedside table drawer to get a condom. She stole it from him, ripping it open with her teeth and rolling it on herself before laying back down on the bed, unclasping her bra herself and throwing it across the room.

William bent down and took one of her nipples into her mouth, sucking gently as he grabbed at her hands. He raised them above her head, holding them both there with only one of his own. He saw her smile. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, his own grin showing how he felt about it.

She nodded her head. “I want your cock so bad Willy. “Give me your cock. I need your cock.”

He slipped into her easily, quickly, her wet pussy still slick with her juices. They both moaned in pleasure, and once he was fully in her, they both took a moment to savour the feeling of being together again – physically, mentally, emotionally, everything – and looked each other in the eye. “God you feel so good,” he whispered, giving the tip of her nose a light kiss. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she said, her voice breathless, the feeling of him filling her up almost too much to bear after not having experienced it for so long. “I love you so much, Willy.”

“I promise you,” he said. “I promise you I’ll never leave you for that long again. We’ll never be separated like that.”

She nodded her head. She understood. “I never want to be. I always want to be with you, Willy. Wherever you are, I’ll be.”

He began moving in and out of her, slowly, trying to make the feeling last as long as possible. But eventually, when Aberdeen began rolling her hips along with his movements, even though her arms and hands were still pinned above her head, he couldn’t control himself, moving quicker and crashing harder against her body. He watched as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, the moans escaping them freely and loudly.

At some point, William forgot about holding her arms above her head. At some point, they escaped free, and she dug her nails into his shoulder blades and scratched them down his back. At some point, after hearing her moans and cries and screams of his name for what felt like hours, he lost himself, and he lost control, and she lost herself, and she lost control, and they came together, bodies close, arms around each other, his head buried in the crook of her neck, hearts beating together.

***

“Did you mean what you said?” William asked as they lay in bed together, still recovering. He knew there was going to be a round two. And a round three. And however many more they saw fit until they were satisfied, although deep down he knew neither of them would ever be satisfied. But before all that, he needed to clear something up. He needed to hear it from her. “Wherever you are, I’ll be?”

Aberdeen looked over at him. She knew what he was asking, because he was in hockey. He could be shipped off somewhere tomorrow. He could be shipped off in the off-season. As she learned in May, and saw for herself, virtually half the fanbase wanted him gone (the dumb fanbase at least, she thought). But much like when he asked her if she would really come to Sweden with him, she knew there was a deeper meaning to this. There always was with William with questions like this; he was still learning to talk to her – to express his feelings like he promised he would after that game against Carolina. “Are you listening?” she asked, what they would always ask each other when they were about to say something important.

“Yes, minskatt.”

She looked him in the eye and nodded her head. “Of course I did.”

He tried not to show it, but he took a sharp intake of breath. She could see his Adam’s apple bob. She knew he was trying not to get emotional. But when he moved to kiss her, she could feel a tear.

***

June 13th, 2020

“I saw on the news that William is back!” Camden exclaimed into the phone. Aberdeen had to go so far as to jerk the phone away from her ear. From the other side of the couch, William giggled silently. “Did you get to see him, Aberdeen?!”

“I did,” she laughed. “He says hello.”

“Did he have a good time in Tampa?”

“I think so. I mean he was with his siblings,” Aberdeen laughed. “Aren’t you happy with me and Siena are home?”

“Sometimes.”

She snorted. “Anyways, have you finished the last of your work for school?” she asked. “Siena told me you forgot about a math assignment.”

“Oh my God, I forget about one assignment and I never hear the end of it!” he complained. William threw his head back in silent laughter. “You guys never let me hear the end of it!”

“But it’s math, Camden! Math is your favourite subject!”

“Don’t you guys remember I’m working at like, two grades above my level in math anyway?” he reminded her. “I’m already, like, gifted in math. You weren’t gifted.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Is Auston back yet?” he asked.

“I don’t know buddy. He’s still in Arizona. But I assume he’ll be coming back soon. I’m sure there’s ice rinks there he’s practicing on.”

“Is he staying safe?”

“I’m sure he is Camden. I’m sure he is.”

***

June 19th, 2020

@simmonssteve: POSTMEDIA EXCLUSIVE: Auston Matthews has tested positive for COVID-19. My breaking story: torontosun.com

***

Aberdeen thought she’d seen Brendan Shanahan angry on her interview day when he was demanding to his former personal assistant that the article written about his daughter be pulled from the Toronto Sun. She thought she saw Brendan Shanahan at his angriest when she entered his house while he was having a fight with his daughter and the subsequent day when he sent her on a wild goose chase throughout the city to find Niklas Lidstrom’s Swedish jersey.

Those were a walk in the park compared to how she saw him now, dealing with the leaked information that Auston tested positive for COVID-19.

She was sure he was ready to burn down his office, the floor, the entire building, the entire Scotiabank Arena. She knew he wanted to revoke the media access and credentials of the reporter, Steve Simmons, because he had so many strikes against him over the years (Aberdeen would have to research this when she got home), but that he would look like a vindictive and spiteful president if he did so. She knew he had been on the phone with Auston and his agent and his parents and Kyle and Brad and just about everyone else important within the organization to deal with it.

And all she was doing was sitting in a chair in his office with a mask on.

She felt her phone buzz in her hand, and when she looked at the screen she saw “Head Empty” on the screen followed by a message.

hows it going over there?

She took a quick look at Brendan and he was still barking into a phone. She unlocked her screen and began to type.

It’s a shit show. Have you heard from Auston?

yea mild symptoms but hes angry doesnt know how it leaked

Who could it have been?

no clue, honestly not like any of us would say something

“Aberdeen, Kyle is coming in,” Brendan said quickly. His voice was stern but softer than how he was speaking to whoever was on the phone. He had his hand over the receiver. “Can you go get us some coffee, please.”

She nodded and got up, making her way out of his office and to the Starbucks where she always went to get their regular orders. As she took the staircase down to the main floor, her phone began to ring loudly, echoing in the empty space. She stopped and looked down at her phone. Auston Matthews.

“Hello?” she asked, truly confused as to why he would be calling her.

“Hey,” he said casually. “How are you?”

“I’m…fine,” she replied, still confused. “Is everything okay?”

“Depends,” he said. “Can you be honest with me?”

She stiffened slightly. “I’m always honest with you.”

“I know. But can you be honest with me right now?”

“Yes, of course.”

He paused. “Do you know who leaked it?”

She closed her eyes. She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding in. “No, I don’t. But trust me when I say we’re doing everything to find out. Kyle’s heading over right now and I can only imagine what he and Brendan are going to do to…I don’t know, mitigate this disaster.”

She could hear him sigh on the other end. “I hope whoever it was gets fired, honest to God.”

“I hope so too. Pretty sure Brendan wants to get Steve Simmons fired, too, for what it’s worth,” she said. There was a moment of silence between the two of them before her mouth began speaking quicker than her brain told her not to say anything. “You don’t think it was me, do you?”

“No, not at all,” he said. “We all trust you with anything and everything. We know if something ever got out, it would never be you.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, genuinely curious. It was a feat in and of itself to have the utmost trust of absolutely everybody in the locker room.

“Because we know and understand that we all have our secrets, Aberdeen.”

169 notes · View notes

justlookfrightened · 4 years

Text

Birthday surprises

For the prompt: Jack secretly loves surprise parties

“So how did you celebrate Canada Day when you were growing up?’ Bitty asked, carrying the pie to the table. “Was it like the Fourth of July, with parades and fireworks and red and white bunting everywhere?”

“Sort of,” Jack said. “It wasn’t such a big deal in Montreal, because, y’know, Quebec. A few years ago they made it moving day in Quebec just to screw with the government in Montreal.”

“Moving day?” Bitty asked. “Wait just a second.”

He turned to the counter behind him and picked up a small Candian flag, which he stuck in the middle of the pie.

“Happy Canada Day!”

“Euh, thanks,” Jack said. “Moving day is when everyone’s leases end and their new leases start. So thousands of people are moving on Canada Day. There were always fireworks over the harbor, though. Sometimes we’d go see them if we were in town.”

“Well, then, happy moving day,” Bitty said. “So not much like Madison on the Fourth of July?”

“Bits, nothing is like Madison on the Fourth of July,” Jack said.

“I’m sure the fireworks aren’t as good --”

“I have very fond memories of the fireworks in Madison,” Jack said. “Best fireworks of my life. Are you okay staying here for the Fourth this year?”

Bitty shrugged.

“I guess so,” he said. “The shop’s just getting on its feet, and I can’t really take much time off yet, and that would mean flying down on the morning of the fourth and back the next day. And Mama and Coach said they’d come up to see us for a weekend before school starts down there. We can still go to the fireworks and all here on the Fourth, right?”

“Your parents are coming up?” Jack asked. “Do you know when?”

“Beginning of August,” Bitty said. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll make sure their visit doesn’t conflict with your big birthday celebration.”

“My … what?”

“Your birthday?” Bitty said. “You’re turning 30 a little over a month from today. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“No, but a big celebration?”

“Oh, no, sweet pea,” Bitty said. “I meant ‘big birthday,’ like turning 30 is a big deal. Not a big celebration for your birthday. I know you don’t like that kind of thing.”

“Oh,” Jack said, looking down at his pie. “Okay. That’s good.”

“Unless you want my parents here for your birthday?” Bitty said. “I was thinking your parents might come, but … I’m sure my folks would be happy to.”

“No,” Jack said. “No, that’s fine.”

****

“I’m so glad you and Bits decided to do this,” Shitty said, taking another drag on his joint. “You guys aren’t usually around on the Fourth, but the rest of this summer looks crazy for me, and then you have the season coming up. I wouldn’t want it to be too long between visits.”

“Crazy this summer?” Jack said. “What’s up?”

“Work stuff,” Shitty said. “It looks like we’re going to trial against that chemical plant at the end of August, and it’s gonna be like seven days a week getting ready. I already told Lards to prepare for work-widowhood.”

“Yeah?” Jack said. “How’d she take that?”

“I’m not sure,” Shitty said. “You think I’m crazy enough to say shit like that when she’s awake?”

“Haha.”

“No, seriously, she’s leaving next week for a six-week residency at some artist colony in the Berkshires, and then she’s got a show to mount for the gallery at the end of August. I’m not sure she’ll even notice.”

“Come on, Shits,” Jack said. “You know she will.”

“I know,” Shitty said. “It’s just fucking hard sometimes, you know? I mean, it seemed like all the lawyers I knew when I was a kid had lunch and played golf all day. Plenty of time for fucking around. Too late I learned it doesn’t work that way in the public interest sector. And who knew being a successful artist was so time-consuming? How do you and Bits make it work?”

Jack shrugged. It was difficult, with his life consumed by hockey and Bitty’s time taken up more and more by a successful career in -- baking media? Jack wasn’t even sure what to call it, since Bits wasn’t just a baker, just a cookbook author, just an Internet and TV personality. He somehow did all of that, and just this summer had lent his name, personality, and talent to a new shop that sold both baked goods and baking equipment (toys for bakers, Bitty called them) in Providence.

“Remember Bits’ birthday in May?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” Shitty said. “The big two-five. Remember how you wanted to throw him a surprise party? That was never gonna happen. Like that boy would ever let anyone else control the menu.”

“I guess you're right,” Jack said. “But I like surprising him. Remember Betsy II?”

“That was sweet,” Shitty said. “And the proposal at Faber, too, you romantic son of a gun.”

“Who told him about the surprise party in May?”

“Uh --”

“Was it you?”

“No.”

“Was it Lardo?”

“Um, she maybe told him not to make plans for that day? Because he was telling her he wanted to plan an overnight getaway because it was the only time it would work with your schedule?” Shitty said. “He took it from there. My understanding is that you caved under questioning.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I guess I did.”

“But don’t worry, brah,” Shitty said. “If I heard about a plan for a surprise party for you, I would totally warn you. I know you’re not into that.”

“Euh, okay?” Jack said. “But --”

“I got your back, brah,” Shitty said, giving Jack an exaggerated wink and nod just as Bitty and Lardo pushed open the sliding door and carried trays of drinks and snacks to the terrace.

“So what did we miss?” Bitty said. “Fireworks haven’t started yet, have they?”

“Nope,” Shitty said. “You’re just in time.”

****

“Jack?” Bitty asked, looking up from his laptop. “Do you know where you want to go for your birthday dinner?”

“Birthday dinner?” Jack said. “We’re not having it here?”

“Well, since I know you don’t like parties, and thirty is kind of a big deal, I thought maybe we should go out.”

“Who said I don’t like parties?” Jack said, pausing the tape of the last game of the Stanley Cup final.

“Please, sweetpea,” Bitty said. “I used to have to beg to get you to show your face at a kegster, and your mama’s told the story about you hiding under the bed to get out of going to that banquet more than a dozen times.”

“I was six,” Jack said.

“I know, sugar, and you haven’t changed a bit,” Bitty said. Then his eyes dropped to Jack’s chest, and lower, and Jack suddenly felt warm. “Except in the obvious ways. I was thinking Hemenway’s for seafood or maybe Waterman Grille or Al Forno with your parents. But it might make more sense to go the night before. Hemenway’s at least is closed on Mondays. Then on the night of your actual birthday, we can eat at home. Steaks on the grill, maybe? Do you want to invite your parents for that, too, or have it be just the two of us?”

Jack wanted to protest that he could want a party even if he didn’t want the debauchery of a kegster, and he shouldn’t be judged by his six-year-old self not wanting to go to a stuffy banquet (even if he still didn’t like stuffy banquets). But the moment seemed to have passed, and really, what Bitty was planning was fine.

Maybe he would get a surprise party for his fortieth, when he wasn’t playing and his friends’ careers were more stable and everyone had more time.

“Any of them are good, but Papa really likes Al Forno,” Jack said. “And I guess they can come on Monday for dinner, as long as they leave early.”

“Now, Jack, that’s not very hospitable of you,” Bitty said with a smirk. “I almost think you have plans. Maybe once I finish making this reservation you can give me a preview.”

He pecked at the keyboard for a few more moments and then closed the laptop.

“Ready when you are, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Jack clicked off the TV and followed Bitty to the bedroom.

****

“Maman?”

Jack had put off this call until Bitty left for the market.

It wasn’t like his husband was a busybody or nosy. It was just that, what with Jack’s schedule, and the wedding, and Bitty’s career, they were still in the condo Jack bought for himself in Providence when he signed. It wasn’t really small -- it probably had almost as much square footage as the Haus, and only two of them living there -- but it was mostly open-plan and Bitty would know if Jack was hiding in the office to call his parents. Which he was supposed to have done two weeks ago.

“Jacky!” his mother said. “It’s been ages. I saw those pictures you posted from your beach excursion last weekend. It looked like the two of you had fun. But I didn’t know you got a dog.”

“We didn’t?”

“But Bitty --”

“Was playing with a dog in a lot of the pictures?” Jack said.

The dog had run up to their picnic blanket when they moved off the beach proper, into the shady park, for lunch. Jack wasn’t sure exactly what kind it was. It was black and brown, like he thought of a German shepherd being, but much smaller, with long, skinny legs, a pointy nose and floppy ears.

Bitty had immediately started cooing over and petting the creature, despite Jack pointing out that they didn’t know who it belonged to, if it belonged to anyone, where it had been, if it was friendly.

“You don’t know if this dog is friendly?” Bitty had been incredulous. It was pretty ridiculous, given that the dog was more or less washing Bitty’s face with its tongue while Bitty giggled. “And she has a collar. And a tag. Stand still, girl.”

Bitty had still been trying to read the tag, and Jack was still taking pictures, when a teenage girl ran up, a leash in her hand.

“There you are, Eleanor! I’m so sorry! She just jumped out of the car and took off as soon as I opened the door. Eleanor, come!”

“No worries,” Bitty had said, holding the dog while her person clipped the leash to her collar. “We’re always happy to visit with a friendly puppy.”

Jack had been thinking about adopting a dog ever since, if only to see Bitty giggle so much. A dog that could go on runs with him, and keep Bitty company when Jack had to be gone … it might be a good idea. But it wasn’t something to surprise Bitty with. If they adopted a dog, it had to be a joint decision.

“That was just a dog that got loose and came to visit,” Jack said. “Although now that you mention it, I wonder if Bitty might like to have a dog around. I’ll have to ask him.”

“Judging from those pictures, I’m pretty certain he’ll approve,” Alicia said. “Now, did you need to talk about something?”

“Euh, the plans for my birthday?” Jack said. “Bitty wants to take you and Papa to Al Forno on the second, and then cook dinner here on the third.”

“Bitty wants to?” Alicia said. “What about you?”

“I’m not sure why we need to do both,” Jack admitted. “Either would be fine with me. But he seemed set on going out to celebrate because it’s my thirtieth, and a lot of restaurants are closed on Monday. And he was equally set on celebrating on the day of. But he has to work early the next day, so it’ll be an early dinner.”

“You never did like a lot of fuss,” his mother said, not calling him on what he thought was an obvious … not untruth, exactly, Maybe more of a manipulation? “Grumpypants. Of course your father and I will be there for both.”

“I don’t mind fuss,” Jack said.

“Jack, mon coeur, when have you enjoyed people getting together to focus on you?”

“They had a birthday dinner for me at the Haus,” Jack said. “Before my senior year. Bitty made a pie and everything.”

“Were you part of the planning for this dinner?” Alicia said. “Did you even know about it?”

“It just sort of … happened,” Jack said. “But it was nice.”

“Jack, dear, was that the first time Bitty made a pie especially for you?” his mother asked. “Forgive me, but that might have more to do with your fond memories.”

****

“Jack, what kind of pie do you want for your birthday?”

Bitty was sauntering between the farmer’s market booths while Jack trailed along, watching Bitty more than looking at the produce.

“Pie?” Jack asked. “Don’t most people get cake for their birthdays?”

“Do you even know me?” Bitty asked, then turned to examine at a table full of cherries.

Jack accompanied Bitty to the farmer’s market almost every Saturday in the summer. It was an errand, sure, but some weeks it was also the closest they got to a date.

Bitty would probably scoff at that. What did they need with dates, now they were an old married couple? Neither of their schedules permitted a regular date night most of the time, anyway. But in the summer, at least, they had Saturday mornings at the market.

“If you know me, you know what kind of pie I want,” Jack said.

“Maple-crusted apple,” Bitty confirmed, then shook his head sadly. “Have you seen these cherries, Jack? Or the blueberries? There will even be decent peaches up here by the beginning of August. Apples won’t be in season for another six weeks or so.”

It was a familiar argument with no heat in it.

Jack shrugged.

“I like what I like,” he said. “And there are always apples available. You know you’ll make it for me. And something else for whoever wants it.”

“See, you do know me,” Bitty said. He stopped in front of the booth with honey soap but paid it no mind. “Jack, are we becoming old and boring?”

“We always were old and boring,” Jack said. “From the beginning of time.”

“First, speak for yourself, old man,” Bitty said. “Second, I’m not sure whether that was a chirp or flirting. Don’t you know you had me at ‘Eat more protein’?”

“That’s not what you said then.”

“Hush,” Bitty said. “I mean, you don’t have to have the same thing for your birthday every year. Branch out a bit. Maybe a pear tart?”

“I wanted to do something different for your birthday, but then everyone went and told you,” Jack said.

“I’m sorry, sweetpea,” Bitty said. “I would have gone along with it and pretended it was a surprise, but I had to get out of other plans somehow. And people did want to eat. Good food.”

“By which you mean your food,” Jack said.

“I like to think I have a reputation to uphold,” Bitty said, stopping to examine some melons. “Truthfully, I kind of wish I hadn’t found out. You give good surprises.”

“Yeah?”

“Come on, you moose. You know I would have married you after you bought me Betsy II,” Bitty said. “Too bad parties aren’t your thing. Could you imagine a party with all your mom’s A-list friends and your hockey uncles, plus your team and Kent and all? It would be the talk of Providence.”

Jack shuddered.

“Definitely not my thing,” he said.

“I know, sweetpea,” Bitty said. “Besides, celebrating on our own has its advantages. Catch.”

He tossed Jack an eggplant with a smirk

Jack groaned. “Really, Bits?”

“Sorry,” Bitty said. “That was bad. I have what I need. Ready to head home?”

****

Jack was set up and sitting at his computer, half-listening to Bitty going on about whether his deadlines for the next cookbook were remotely reasonable, when the call from Tater came through.

“Zimmboni!” The image of Tater on the screen waved. “Hey, Tater,” Jack said.

“Is that little B?”

Tater’s face moved, like he was trying to see around Jack.

“Yeah, Bitty’s here,” Jack said, waving a hand to get his husband’s attention. “You want to say hi?”

Bitty leaned over his shoulder.

“Hey, Tater! You look good. How’s the family?” he asked.

“Everyone is good,” Tater said. “My mother and my sister Tatiana want to visit this year, so they can meet the baker I’m always talking about.”

“I’d be honored and delighted,” Bitty said. “Don’t forget those recipes you wanted me to try, alright? We can work on them together. You translate and I bake.”

“You speak better Russian you think!” Tater said.

“That’s what you think,” Bitty said. “I have to go to the shop. ПοКа!”

“Bye, Bits,” Jack said. “So, Tater, how’s the conditioning? You keeping up with it?”

“Of course,” Tater said. “Russian training every day.”

“And Russian home cooking every night?”

“Of course,” Tater agreed, grinning.

“How’s everything else?” Jack said. “When are you heading back?”

“Not long now,” Tater said. “No plane ticket yet, but early August, probably. We have dinner then, yes? To celebrate you becoming an old man.”

“Uh, we can have dinner,” Jack said. “But it doesn’t have to be for my birthday. Just to celebrate getting ready for a new season is enough.”

“Why don’t you celebrate?” Tater said. “I hear from Marty, Snowy, Thirdy, all the guys, that Jack is having a big birthday and didn’t invite them to the party. I say, ‘You know Jack. He probably isn’t even having a party.’ And they say, ‘You’re right, Tater. Jack hates parties.’”

“I don’t hate parties,” Jack said.

“You were not at Marty’s daughter’s party,” Tater countered.

“That was a kid birthday,�� Jack said. “And Bitty had to go to New York for work that day, so I went with him.”

“Right,” Tater said. “But Bitty would be here for your party.”

“I’m not having a party,” Jack said.

“But you could if you want,” Tater said. “So you don’t want. So why do you hate parties?”

Jack ignored the question in favor of saying, “Just let me know when you're coming in, and I’ll pick you up at the airport if you want,” Jack said. “As long as you shut up about the party.”

“What party?”

****

Jack put on the new blue suit that Maman and Bitty had agreed (insisted, more like) that he should buy. He hesitated over the tie: stripes? paisley? miniature hockey sticks that Papa would find amusing?

No. If he couldn’t be sentimental on his birthday, when could he be? He picked up his pale blue tie, the one Bits told him brought out his eyes on his graduation day, and slid it around his neck.

Bitty was already ready, he knew, in a charcoal grey suit that he got from Jack’s tailor. Getting to see Bitty all dressed up almost made it worth it to Jack to put on a suit on a Sunday in the summer. Well, that and the look that Bitty gave Jack when he emerged from the bedroom.

“You always did clean up nice,” Bitty said. He picked up two boxes of baked goods -- a pie in one, and a couple of kinds of cookies in the other.

“You’re taking food to a restaurant?”

“No, of course not,” Bitty said. “The cookies are for Lauren downstairs. She has a shower to go to and she wanted to bring something. They’re shaped like … you know.”

“Babies?”

“No, a bridal shower,” Bitty said. “A lingerie shower.”

At Jack’s blank look, Bitty muttered something under his breath and said, “A party where they give the bride-to-be sexy underwear and tell naughty jokes.”

“So the cookies look like underwear?” Jack said, all innocence.

“No, Jack,” Bitty said. “They look like dicks, okay?”

“What about the pie?”

“That’s for your mom and dad,” Bitty said. “We’re supposed to meet them at the hotel. They can drop the pie off in their room and then we’ll go to dinner.”

That meant going inside the hotel, probably. Which meant parking and then retrieving the car, and pleasantries in the hotel lobby, and …

“Are you sure we’ll make our reservation?” Jack asked. “I’d hate to get all dressed up for nothing.”

“Aw, sweetpea, I think I can guarantee that won’t happen,” Bitty said, reaching up to pat Jack’s face and give him a peck on the lips. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

Jack pulled up at the hotel valet stand, and when he got out, said, “We’ll only be a few minutes. Keep it close, eh?” with a twenty-dollar bill folded into his palm.

“Your folks said they’d meet us down here,” Bitty said, heading into the lobby. His head swiveled and stopped when he caught sight of Jack’s parents at the hotel bar. Both had drinks in front of them. Great. They’d want to finish, and there might be a bill to settle, too.

He followed as Bitty picked his way across the lobby, exchanged a half-hug with his father while his mother swept Bitty into her arms, and then traded places.

“Jack, you look wonderful,” Alicia said, finally letting go and holding him at arm’s length. “You both do. This summer has agreed with you.”

“Thanks, Maman,” Jack said. “You look great too. Um, are you two almost ready to go?”

“The pie, Jack!” Bitty said.

“Oh, and I have something upstairs to show you, Bitty,” Alicia said. “Come up with me and we can leave the pie in the room.”

“Fine,” Bob said. “That’ll give me time to watch the end of this round.”

Jack looked at the TVs above the bar. He couldn’t mean the golf tournament? Who knew what time that would end? But it was that or … competitive cornhole?

“Only a couple more tosses,” Bob confirmed. “If this one pushes that bag in, they’ve got it.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jack said.

“Oh, come on, Jack, relax.” Bob said. “It’s fun. Sit down and tell me about your summer.”

“It’s been more Bitty’s summer than mine, with the shop and this new book he’s working on,” Jack said. “He’s been busy.”

“I remember those days,” Bob said. “When I’d finish the season so tired I didn’t know how I’d even haul myself upstairs to the bedroom, and by the time I was ready to face the world again, your mother would be on location on the other side of the world somewhere. I always wondered why our schedules couldn’t align.”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Jack said.

“Of course not,” Bob said. “Any more than it was mine. Hockey season is hockey season, and filming schedules are filming schedules, and cute little shops on streets popular with tourists open during the summer.”

“No, I know,” Jack said. “I wasn’t complaining.”

He stopped at the look his father gave him.

“Okay, I was complaining, but not about Bitty,” Jack said. “Just the way things worked out this summer. I was thinking we could maybe have a party for my birthday this year --”

“You haven’t wanted a birthday party since you were eight!”

“Not a big party,” Jack said. “Just a few people. But Shitty’s in the middle of preparing for a big trial, and Lardo’s off being an artist in residence somewhere, and Tater’s not back yet. Bitty’s too busy to plan anything anyway, and no one would let me plan it.”

“Get it all out, son,” Bob said. “Before your mother and your husband get downstairs. Even if Bitty didn’t plan a party, he did plan this evening for you, and it doesn’t do to feel sorry for yourself on your birthday. Especially when you have someone who thinks the sun rises and sets on you like he does.”

“I know,” Jack said, then caught sight of the time on one of the TVs.

“Oh, no. We’re late for our reservation.”

“We’ll make it.”

“No, we’re late. Already. Maybe I should call them?”

He was picking up his phone when he saw Alicia, carrying a large shopping bag, and Bitty crossing the lobby from the elevator. Bitty was on the phone. Of course he had it handled.

Bitty did not have it handled.

He hadn’t said anything about the reservation to Jack on the way to Al Forno, just squeezed Jack’s hand on the console as they pulled away from the hotel.

“I really hope you enjoy tonight,” Bitty said.

They left the car with the restaurant valet and headed straight into trouble.

“Bittle-Zimmermann, party of four,” Bitty told the maitre d’. “We have reservations.”

The maitre d’ scanned his sheet, made a face, and looked up at Bitty.

“This reservation is for thirty minutes ago,” he said.

“I know,” Bitty said, “And I’m sorry we’re late.”

“Surely half an hour can’t be a problem,” Bob said, trying to shoulder his way into the conversation, folded bill just visible between his fingers. “We promise not to linger. It’s my son’s birthday.”

“Papa!” Jack hissed, tugging at his father’s sleeve like he was eight years old again. “Let Bitty handle it.”

“Yes, Bob,” Alicia said, drawing herself up to full height and looming over the desk. “My son-in-law, Eric Bittle-Zimmermann, has this under control.”

Jack took a moment to be pleased that his mother knew Eric’s name would have more clout than theirs in a restaurant.

“I’m sorry,” the maitre d’ said. “But we gave that table away not five minutes ago. We didn’t think you were going to show up.”

“We can wait for another table,” Bitty said.

“Not tonight,” the maitre d’ said, looking truly regretful. If Bitty had liked the dinner and mentioned it on his vlog, that would have been very good for the restaurant. “We have a large private party coming in. I’m afraid it won’t be possible.”

Bitty’s face fell and Jack’s heart clenched.

“It’s fine, bud,” Jack said. “We have the food for tomorrow at home. We can go make dinner, and then head to the store in the morning. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Bitty said. “It’s your birthday. I planned this dinner, and it’s my fault it got screwed up. Your mother wanted to show me your present and I got to rambling on … and why can’t I pay more attention? I’m sorry, Jack. I spoiled your birthday dinner.”

“Bitty, it’s okay, really,” Jack said.

“Perhaps next week?” the maitre d’ suggested.

“But then it won’t be Jack’s birthday anymore,” Bitty said.

“Perhaps the gentlemen would take a coupon for their next meal here?” the maitre d’ said. “For the inconvenience.”

“That’s not necessary,” Bitty said. “It was my fault.”

“I insist,” the maitre d’ said.

Jack took the offered envelope and slid it into his jacket pocket.

“Come on, Bits,” he said. “It’s not the end of the world.”

He ducked closer and whispered, “At least we can get out of the suits, eh?”

“Jack!” Bitty said, giggling through his frown. “Your parents are here!”

“Not what I meant, bud,” Jack said, but he grinned, because he’d gotten a laugh from Bitty.

“Need anything before we go home?” Jack asked while they waited for the car. “Or do you want to just pick up dinner on the way?”

“I think we have all the food we need,” Bitty said. “Maybe a bottle of champagne? Shoot, no, it’s just after six.”

“Just after six?” Bob said.

“Rhode Island law,” Jack said. “No packaged liquor after 6 p.m. on Sundays.”

“So unless you want to drop me at home to get started and drive to Attleboro, a champagne toast will have to wait for tomorrow,” Bitty said.

“We don’t need champagne,” Jack said. “Come on, let’s head home.”

Jack drove again, Bitty in the passenger seat next to him, his parents in the back. It was completely normal, and that thought struck him as odd. Here he was, 30 years old tomorrow, married to Eric Bittle, the love of his life. His parents loved Eric, too, and were here to celebrate with them, and in a few weeks he’d be getting ready for training camp for next season. He wished his 18-year-old self could have seen this future. It was better than anything he’d ever expected.

He would have liked to celebrate with Shitty and Lardo, Tater, maybe Marty and Gabby and Thirdy and Carrie, but this was good, too. Better than he had any right to expect.

He stopped at a red light and glanced at Bitty, who was also looking at him, a sly grin on his face.

“What?” Jack said. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s your birthday,” Bitty said.

“Not until tomorrow,” Jack said.

“You know what I mean.”

Jack took Bitty’s hand in the elevator when they got back to the building and held it for the whole ride up. He was still holding it when he got to the door and opened it.

He dropped it as the crowd shouted “Surprise!”

“What the --”

“Surprise, sweetpea,” Bitty said, reaching up to whisper to him. “You can still change out of your suit if you want.”

“Jackabelle!” Shitty was there to claim a hug. He wasn’t dressed in a suit, but he was dressed. Jack probably should thank Lardo for that. And there she was, hanging back, talking to Gabby.

So Marty was here somewhere -- by the pool table, talking to Tater while Snowy lined up a shot. Thirdy was in the corner, deep in conversation with Coach Bittle, and there were Suzanne and Carrie bringing more napkins in from the kitchen.

The island was covered with catering trays from … Al Forno, and Jack could see a maple-crusted apple pie among a selection on the kitchen counter. There was also a cake and some cake pops (for the kids? Were they here?) and it looked like someone (Shitty, probably) had been serving drinks from the bar. There was a bottle of champagne chilling.

Jack’s mother slipped past him to deposit the gift bag on the hall table with the other gifts.

“Happy birthday, Jacky,” she said. “When Bitty said our job was to help distract you, I wasn’t sure we could pull it off. I thought you might insist on leaving for the restaurant too early.”

“You were in on this?” Jack said.

“Everybody was,” Bitty said. “Even the maitre d’ at Al Forno.”

“But the gift certificate …”

“A gift from me to you,” Bitty said. “For when we can have dinner, just the two of us.”

The rest of the evening went by in a blur of conversations and congratulations. Marty and Thirdy’s kids were there, hiding in the guest room, watching gamers play Animal Crossing on YouTube and coloring, but they came out to help blow out his candles.

“What about your trial coming up?” Jack asked Shitty. “And your residency?” he asked Lardo.

“Those are both real,” Lardo said. “But a funny thing about being an artist in residence: They don’t lock you in. And Shits needed a break for a little while.”

Coach Bittle looked tickled to be sharing a room with so many professional athletes, and Suzanne helped Bitty shuttle food and dishes in and out of the kitchen.

“Told you they’d want to celebrate your birthday,” Bitty said. “They flew in this morning and Shitty picked them up at the airport. They were waiting around the corner for us to leave.”

“You do like parties!” Tater boomed at Jack before leaving. “I knew it! But it took your husband to invite me.”

“That’s because it was a surprise, Tater,” Bitty said. “Jack didn’t know.”

Once everyone was gone -- not too late, because it was a Sunday -- Jack helped Bitty stow the leftovers and wash the dishes.

“How’d you know?” he asked Bitty.

“Know what, hon?”

“That I wanted a party,” Jack said. “A surprise party.”

“Jack, sweet pea, you’ve been moping around this house for weeks,” Bitty said. “All woe-is-me because your friends were busy this weekend. Of course you wanted a party. And you wouldn’t have tried to plan a surprise party for me unless you at least didn’t hate the idea.”

“How did you do such a good job planning it?” Jack said. “I really didn’t know.”

“You don’t have a suspicious mind?” Bitty said. ”Now come on. It’s nearly midnight. Let’s get to bed and you can have another birthday surprise.”

****

Jack groaned when he opened his eyes the next morning. It was late, later than he usually slept anyway. But he’d been up late the night before.

He could hear Bitty in the kitchen, opening drawers and moving plates and cookware around. Coffee was ready, probably.

He got up, dragged a T-shirt over his head and tugged on a pair of shorts, and wandered down the hall.

“Morning, bud,” Jack said.

“Jack, happy birthday!” Bitty said. “Breakfast’s almost ready, and I put all the cards and gifts from last night on the table.”

Jack worked his way through them, shaking his head at Shitty’s selection of boxer briefs emblazoned with the logos of female superheroes and grateful for the small painting from Lardo. There were restaurant gift certificates and a tie from Papa (“You always wear that old blue one!”) and reading glasses from Marty.

Then he opened his mother’s gift. It was a flat box, and it held a red leather leash and collar, along with a gift certificate for adoption fees from the animal shelter.

The enclosed note said, “I think this will be a good gift for both of you, but of course I’m not about to surprise you with a puppy. Take your time deciding which dog to adopt. In the meantime, know that there was also a $10,000 donation in your name to help support all the animals.”

“Bits,” Jack said. “Did you have any plans this morning?”

“Nothing in particular,” Bitty said. “Maybe see my parents at some point. D’you mind if they come for dinner?”

“Of course not,” Jack said. “But do you think we could go to the animal shelter?”

#jack zimmermann turns 30 #zimbits #omg check please #omgcheckplease #my fic

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Can you write fic based on last night's episode? Concerned Carlos provides some much needed sex to make tk less stressed

hi anon, thanks for the prompt! i don’t write explicit fic ever but i’ve attempted some vaguely implied sex if that works? i’m sure you’ll be able to tell just how embarrassed i got writing this but i hope it’s turned out okay.

my inbox is always open for prompts! do keep sending them through, but please i’m begging no more sexual stuff

ao3

TK sighed and rested his head against the door to Carlos’s condo, closing his eyes. Blessed silence at last. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

“Hi to you too.”

He grimaced apologetically and opened his eyes. “Sorry.” He leant forward and kissed Carlos before slumping back against the door again. “But, seriously, do you mind? My mom and dad are going at it again.”

Carlos snorted. “By ‘it’, you mean..?”

TK shot him an unimpressed look. “Arguing. Though, going by past experience, I wouldn’t be surprised if they get to the other ‘it’ soon enough.” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head in a futile attempt to dislodge the offending thought.

Carlos laughed and put an arm around TK, pulling him away from the door to the couch. “You’re welcome here any time,” he said. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t rescue you in your hour of need?”

“My hero.”

They settled on the sofa together, TK doing his best to relax now he was away from all the yelling. It proved impossible, though, the relative quiet of Carlos’s house somehow only aggravating his nerves. He pulled himself out of Carlos’s embrace, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

“That bad, huh?” Carlos asked. TK could feel his eyes on him, and his face burned with shame.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he answered. He looked over at Carlos. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t want to keep bringing my problems here. It’s not fair.”

Carlos sat up, dropping a kiss on TK’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, though not quite the truth either. But TK didn’t want to think about his parents anymore, and he especially didn’t want to vent to Carlos again. He’d been nothing but supportive, and TK couldn’t help but feel guilty.

Judging by the look on his face, Carlos hadn’t bought it, but he didn’t push. Instead, his hands came down on TK’s shoulders and gently started massaging. “Well, you’ve got to get that tension out somehow, babe,” he said softly. “Because, no offense, you’re giving me a headache just looking at you.”

TK groaned and tried to let go of some of the tension in his body. “Sorry -”

Letting go of his shoulders, Carlos cut off TK’s protests with a kiss. “I swear, you’d better not apologise again or…” He trailed off, meeting TK’s eyes, and TK finally caught on to the flirtatious undertone in his boyfriend’s voice.

He smirked. “Or what?”

Carlos moved closer so his lips grazed TK’s ear. “Or,” he breathed, and TK shivered. “I’m not gonna make you feel so good that you forget your own name.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Officer,” TK murmured. He turned his face to Carlos and kissed him, gasping as Carlos deepened the kiss, his hands tangling in TK’s hair.

They fell back together, Carlos’s body covering TK’s. When they broke apart, TK reached up and put a hand on Carlos’s chest. “Wait. Wait a second,” he said, searching his boyfriend’s face. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this for me.”

Carlos just smiled. “I’m sure if you are.”

In answer, TK pushed himself up to meet Carlos, every inch of his body alight with love for him. And, as he began to make good on his promises, TK forgot all about his parents, his only thoughts focused entirely on Carlos.

#sfjklaflsfkls I'M SO SORRY #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #tk x carlos #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #holly answers things #anonymous #wasn't going to post this on ao3 but that made me really anxious for some reason lmao

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what-is-your-plan-today · 3 years

Text

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch 5- Bread Cat Power Pack

Co Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Jake and Stella patch up their friendship, but Evan isn’t particularly happy about it.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N: We KNOW this is a slow burn but we promise things are going to heat up soon!!!

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Stella stood at the trunk of the CIA issued Sedan, grimacing. It was the middle of January, cold and snowy, and she had a few bags of shopping to get back into her apartment. She was trying to figure out if she could make it upstairs with all of it at once, to prevent having to come back down, but was failing to see how it was possible.

“Needs some help?” a familiar voice asked and she turned to see Jake coming towards her, still in his uniform, his heavy boots leaving prints in the light, powdery dusting of fresh snow.

She smiled “Yeah, actually. You can grab a couple of these, save me coming back down.”

Jake looked in the trunk and scoffed “You stocking for winter, Stel?” he asked as he grabbed three of the bags.

She snorted “I literally have nothing in my cupboards.” She picked up the remaining two, locked the car and followed him to the main doors of the Condo building. “I’ve not really been here over the last two weeks so…” “I guess you’ve been spending time at your boyfriend’s huh?” Jake asked, his voice neutral as Stella managed to open the door.

“His name is Evan.” She rolled her eyes “And yeah, you could say that.”

Jake remained quiet as they strode to the elevator. Stella called it down and once the doors pinged open, they stepped inside and Jake placed the bags he was carrying down at his feet.

“So, I haven’t seen you since New Year.” Stella looked at him “How’s stuff going? You and Britney good?” “Yeah, erm, about that…” Jake cleared his throat a little as he selected their floor.

As the doors shut, Stella turned to look at him, frowning “Is there something wrong or…”

“That depends on who you ask.” Jake mused “If you ask her then yeah. She’ll probably tell you I’m a…what were her exact words? Oh right, a fucking asshole”

“What did you do?” Stella sighed and Jake grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I dumped her.”

Stella raised her eyebrows “Well speaking from experience, I can kinda see why she might be a little upset.”

Jake looked at her for a moment, deciding whether or not to respond to her little dig but in the end he didn’t get chance as the elevator stopped and opened on their floor. Jake picked up his bags and followed her across to her apartment. She set the bags she was carrying down, grabbed her key and the door swung open. Jake stepped in after her, nudging the door shut with his foot and instantly that familiar smell of vanilla, fresh laundry and the light tones of her perfume hit his senses. He hadn’t been in here for months. They made their way through to the little kitchen and she flipped on the lights, Jake dropping the bags onto the side.

“So are you ok about the pair of you being over or…” Stella turned to face him and Jake wrinkled his nose.

“Well, I wasn’t that into her. I mean, she was just…” he stopped and shrugged a little “I’m all right, yeah.”

Stella snorted, shaking her head “Wow.”

“Had to be honest with her.”

At that Stella couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her throat “That’s a first”

“Wow, that’s the second dig in the last 2 minutes.” Jake arched an eyebrow and Stella inwardly cursed herself. He’d done nothing to deserve either of the shots she’d taken, especially after he was being nothing but helpful

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Was it?” he asked.

There was a moment’s pause before they both spoke at the same time.

“Look, Jake, I don’t wanna…”

“I miss you Stel…you know, us hanging out.

The last bit of Jake’s sentence was added hastily and Stella took a deep breath.

“You’ve been a jerk to me recently, JJ”

“I know I fucked it all up.” He continued pleading his case “But I love you Stel, as friends, ya know?”

She studied him for a moment, and Jake held his breath before her eyes softened, the way they always did when she was coming round, and he exhaled slowly.

“Guess I miss you too.” She said quietly.

At her words Jake’s face split into a grin. “You guess or…”

“Don’t push it.”

He laughed, and on a roll he decided to see how far he could edge his luck. “I don’t suppose you’re free tonight, maybe grab a pizza, I got beer.”

Stella felt her face fall “Sorry JJ, Ev’s coming over.” and as she spoke she realised she actually was sorry. For a split second she considered calling Ev and cancelling, which in itself confused her. Why was she even thinking that? And then she realised, it was because she missed Jake. Despite everything, they’d been through too much for her not to care for him.

Jake nodded, “Okay, well, maybe another night?”

Stella blinked, she’d been expecting some sarcastic quip about Evan but none had come, which surprised her a little. That said, she smiled and nodded “Yeah I’d like that.”

Jake nodded “Right, I’ll err…let you unpack all that then and see you later I guess.”

“Yeah, great. Oh, and thanks.” She smiled “For helping me.”

“Well, you know me, I’m not one to leave a damsel in distress.” He winked. “I’ll see myself out.”

He made his way out of the apartment, closing her door behind him, taking a deep breath as he headed over the landing. Despite the setback about the pizza and beer, he felt good. The air was clearer, it was good progress, easy easy catch a monkey and all that.

He fished in his pocket for his keys and just as he was opening his door he heard hers open behind him.

“Look, I got a little while.” Stella spoke “I was gonna bake some cookies, you wanna help?”

Jensen allowed himself a grin before he turned to face her “You miss me already?”

“Don’t push it asswipe.” She shot back and he laughed.

“Gonna make extra dough so I can eat it?”

She rolled her eyes “Yes, dur.”

“Ok, gimme ten to change and I’ll come over.”

“Use your key.” She nodded, before she pulled her head back in her apartment and shut the door.

Jensen gave a little fist pump of victory as he stepped inside his hallway, smirking to himself “Operation Petunia is a go…”

**** After a quick shower, Jensen changed into a pair of grey sweats, a plain navy blue t-shirt and headed over the hall in his socks. As instructed, he let himself in and walked through to the kitchen, the sound of the radio growing louder as he went. He stopped in the doorway and watched as Stella stood with her back to him, dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized white- slouchy vest top with a tighter cami underneath, rifling in a cupboard. He felt a sudden, nostalgic pang for the times she used to dress casually like that around their student quarters or back at home when they were slobbed in front of the TV at her Ma’s or his Parents. With a little breath, he coughed and she turned to face him, smiling before she nodded to the fridge.

“Make yourself useful and grab us a coupla’ beers will ya?”

He saluted her and she gave a snort as he headed to the fridge and pulled it open, giving a groan as he spotted the Sam Adams. Grabbing two, he popped the tops before he handed her one. She thanked him and continued pulling the ingredients she needed out of the cupboards, the pair of them falling into an easy, but still careful conversation. Stella cursed as she mumbled something about her digital scales running out of batteries and then retrieved the old faithful analogue ones.

“Why is it, when you need something, that’s always the time it’s gonna end up nor working?” she grumbled, setting the dial to zero carefully.

“One of life’s many mysteries Stel.” Jake said wisely as she began to measure the flour out. “Along with why cats always fall on their feet, snidey little bastards.”

Stella snorted, “Or why buttered bread always lands butter down when you drop it? Although I think there’s a scientific explanation to that.”

“There is.” Jake nodded, taking a drink from his beer “When the bread falls out of your hand, it does so at an angle, see, by nature of it having slipped from its previous position, and it rotates.” Jensen twisted his hand in the air to demonstrate his point “Given that it’s normally dropped from a hand or a table, which is like two feet or so, there’s enough time for the toast to rotate about one-half of a turn and thus it lands upside down relative to its original position and oh my God, I’ve just had a brainwave!” he trailed off, grinning

Stella looked at him, her mouth dropping open “What, hang on, back up!”

“No, listen. I just said a cat always lands on its feet right?”

Yeah.” Stella looked at him.

“And you said that bread with butter always falls butter side down?”

Stella’s eyes squinted in confusion. “Jake, what the fuck are you…”

“Just hear me out.” he looked at her as he placed his beer bottle on the side behind him. “If…” both his hands flew up, pointers extended, the bottom of his t-shirt riding up slightly as he did so “If you fastened bread with butter to a cat’s back, then the Cat will keep turning and never fall on the ground.”

Stella blinked and simply looked at him, the way she always did when he was being utterly ridiculous.

“And then, if I attached the bread cat to a generator…” he grinned and held his hands out by his sides, palms open facing upwards “Infinite energy.”

There was a pause before Stella bust out laughing.

“That is the dumbest thing I ever heard!” she shook her head “And that’s saying something coming from you!”

“You won’t be laughing when I’m a millionaire.” Jensen said sagely. “Bread Cat Power Pack, copyright Jacob Calvin Jensen.”

“The only way you’ll ever become a millionaire is if they give you a dollar every time someone laughs at your stupid, shit ideas.” She shook her head, her hands falling to her hips.

“Laugh all you want Stelly, but I’m planning on buying a yellow hummer with the profits.”

Stella paused. That was the first time he’d called her Stelly in…well, she couldn’t actually remember. But it felt nice. This whole scenario felt nice in fact, the pair of them, just hanging out. Just like old times, before it all went to shit.

She smiled “What is it with you and hummers?”

“I just like them.”

“They’re vile, JJ.”

“No, they aren’t. They’re classy.” He picked his beer back up.

“Classy.” Stella snorted and Jake pointed his bottle towards her.

“You never could appreciate the finer things in life.” he sighed dramatically.

“Considering I appreciated you for years that’s a dumbass thing to say.” she arched an eyebrow at him

“Aww you sayin’ I’m a finer thing, Stel?” he teased and she rolled her eyes, ignoring him.

“Why yellow?”

“Why not?” he popped a shoulder at her question before he grinned “It matches my sunny disposition.”

At that Stella gave another snort “God, Jake!”

Jensen simply grinned back and Stella watched him for a second, noticing how relaxed he seemed. Every time she’d seen him over the past month or so he’d been tense. But today, gone was the unusual sulky demeanour he’d embodied recently and he wasn’t snapping or being mean. He was simply being Jake. The Jake she adored.

“Hey, Stel?” Jake asked, dragging her from her thoughts. “Reckon we can make these cookies in the shape of Hummers?”

“Do you have a Hummer shaped cookie cutter?” she asked, turning her attention back to the job in hand, tossing the ingredients into the mixing bowl.

“No.” Jensen wrinkled his nose “Why would I have one of those?”

“Then that’s your answer.”

“Buzz kill.” He muttered, fighting to keep the smirk of his face as he knew exactly what effect those words would have on her. She hated it when he insinuated she was no fun.

“Buzz kill?” she turned to look at him.

“Yup.”

“Fuck you.” She retorted, and Jake gave a splutter as a handful of flour hit him straight in the face, going right up his nostrils and into his mouth.

He blinked, looked at Stella before he shook his head "Oh, Stel, it's on..." he smirked before he moved towards her and she gave a shriek as he easily manhandled her out of the way and grabbed the flour she was trying to move out of his reach. The kitchen filled with yells and laughter as handful after handful went flying around into faces, hair, just about any visible body part and suddenly they were jerked from their little flour war when a clearing of a throat could be heard. Both of them turned to see Evan standing in the kitchen door, a bouquet of bright flowers in one hand and a bottle of something in the other.

"How the fuck did you get in?” Jensen blurted out before he could stop himself and Stella punched him on the arm “Ow, Stell, shit!”

“Don’t be rude.” She glared at him.

“For your information,” Evan stated as he walked into the kitchen “, not that it’s any of your business, but Stel gave me the spare key.”

“Huh.” Jake looked at him before he grinned “I got one of those too.”

Evan looked at him, his eyes squinted slightly “Good for you.”

“Yeah, it is!” Jake continued, the grin still stood on his face.

The two men remained staring at one another, Jake covered head to toe in flour as Stella gave a little groan but before she could tell the pair of them to behave, Evan spoke.

“What’s all this mess?” he asked, nodding to the flour all over the room.

“Oh, we had a mission where we seized over Forty kilos of cocaine.” Jake spoke, his voice deadly serious “I thought I'd bring it round for a good time.”

At that point Stella gave a snort of laughter, nudging Jake hard on the arm, the pair of them giggling again before she spotted the look on Evan’s face. His features were completely serious and there was a flash of anger in his eyes. So she coughed and shook her head.

“I was trying to bake some cookies and Jakey was helping me, sort of.” She shrugged “He’s more of a pain in the ass than a help, mind.”

She didn’t miss the way Evan cringed when she called Jensen ‘Jakey’ but before she could say anything Jensen grumbled.

“Rude.”

“Well you are. You're a monumental pain in the ass” Stella rolled her eyes.

“Yeah but you love me Stel” Jake winked and Stella arched an eyebrow, folding her arms in cloud of flour.

“Jury's out”

“You know…” Evan spoke, his tone sarcastic as he set the bottle he was carrying on the kitchen side “..if i'm interrupting something I can leave.”

“Easy man! But yeah-“ Jensen flashed his trademark grin “You just interrupted us.”

Stella slapped him round the back of the head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Stop hitting me!” Jensen rubbed the place where her palm had connected.

“Well stop being a jerk!”

He turned to face her and sarcastic quip he had prepared died as he saw that she was no longer grinning at him.

“Shouldn’t you go and get cleaned?” Evan spoke and Jake looked at him, wrinkling his nose.

“I kinda like being dirty.”

Stella groaned again as she wiped her face and hands free from flour and then nodded to the bouquet Evan had in his hands “Are they for me?”

“No, I bought them for Jensen.” He dead panned with a roll of his eyes, before his handsome face split into a grin. “Course they're for you baby.”

Jensen watched as Stella smiled broadly and he took in the bunch of brightly coloured gerberas and roses, frowning a little. And then, once more he just couldn’t help but stir the pot at little bit more.

“Oh man. She hasn’t told you about her favourites, hasn’t she?” he nodded to the flowers. Evan frowned and Stella wheeled round to glare at Jake.

“Seriously Jake, shut up.”

“You should have brought her petunias.” Jensen sighed, his hands on his hips as she shook his head with the manner of a father disappointed at his child.

“Yeah, see you're talking but all I'm hearing is noise.” Evan rolled his eyes as Stella reached for the bouquet.

“I’ll put them in a vase. Thanks baby, they’re gorgeous” she beamed at him.

Jake couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the smug look on Evan’s face, most likely cos she just called him baby in front of him. But seriously, what kind of dick boyfriend doesn’t know what his girl’s favourite flowers are?

Evan then picked up the bottle he'd set on the side with a flourish and spun it so the label was facing Stella "I also saw this at one of the stalls at the market and it made me think of you."

Stella looked at him, not understanding for a moment, before she read the label and her eyes opened wide.

“Pumpkin spiced gin…oh my god!” she laughed, taking it from him.

Evan grinned “Now you can make alcoholic lattes.”

“Or just drink it neat over ice.” She smiled at him “I bet this tastes amazing.”

At that Evan smirked and when he spoke again his voice dropped an octave “Probably not as good as you but we’ll give it a go.”

At that Stella flushed and Jake gave an audible groan and then immediately wished he hadn’t as he’d given the dickhead everything he wanted. Evan turned to him with a maddeningly smug look on his face “Still here Jensen? Thought you were going.”

“You wish.” Jake mumbled, but thankfully neither of them heard him as Stella was studying the bottle label to try and hide her embarrassment. He took a deep breath, he knew he had to be careful not to make Stella pissed at him again. So, in a rare self-aware moment, he cleared his throat and spoke a little louder “Well as riveting as chatting with you is, Ev, you're right. I got stuff to do, you know, places to go, people to see..."

“Yeah, sure you do.” Evan replied flippantly “Tell Britney I said hi.”

“Ev, don’t.” Stella shook her head and Evan frowned, turning to her.

“What, I’m not…”

“It’s ok Stelly, he didn't know.” Jensen hid the little smile that was threatening to creep onto his lips at the flinch Evan had made when he used Stella’s old nickname and he gave a shrug. “We broke up.”

“You broke up?” Evan repeated, his face blank. “I’m sorry man.”

“Don’t be.” Jake waved a hand. “Actually it was me who broke it off.”

“Well, still, you must be a little bit...upset, I suppose?”

“Nope.” Jake shook his head “What's got 2 thumbs and is free, single and ready to mingle?” he jerked his thumbs at himself. “This guy"

With that he pat Evan on his shoulder “See ya later.” and he made his way out of Stella’s apartment, closing door behind him. Once it was shoot he paused and took a deep breath.

Fuck that guy.

Up until him turning up they’d been having a great time, simply messing around in the kitchen like they used to. Mind you, it had been a good afternoon, the pair of them were back on even terms, so all in all…yeah, Jensen felt buoyed. With a little spring in his step he headed over the hall back to his apartment and straight to the fridge for a beer. As he popped the lid his phone pinged with a message from Pooch. He, Cougs and Roque were heading out for a few beers and Jake’s presence was apparently “not required but welcome.” Jensen smiled, he was in a good mood so, yeah, drinks!

He showered again to get rid of the flour, changed into a pair of jeans and a casual black sweater before he shrugged on his warm SuperDry coat and headed back out. As he passed Stella’s door on the way to the elevator he could hear her raised voice and instantly he felt his skin prickle. His Jakey Sense as Stella had jokingly dubbed it was tingling. He paused and moved closed to the doors and could hear her and Evan were arguing.

He shouldn’t listen, he knew that, but they were being so loud it was impossible not to. Plus, when all’s said and done he was also a nosey bastard.

“For fucks sake, Ev! You've been fine for the last twenty minutes, why are you brining this up now?”

“All I said was I wish you'd told me about the flowers! I've bought you bouquets before and you never mentioned petunias.”

Jake smirked a little as Stella groaned.

“It’s really not that big a deal!”

“Well apparently it is according to Jensen!” Evan shot back.

“So that's what this is about. It isn't the flowers at all is it? It's Jake” Stella responded, her voice agitated and Jake could completely picture her stood there, arms folded, glaring up at him. He’d seen it often enough himself.

“And what if it is?” Evan’s voice was equally as loud.

“Oh for fucks sake...he's my friend, my best friend.”

“And your EX, Stella!”

“Carry on this way and you will be as well!” Stella shot back and at that Jake felt his smirk grow even wider.

“Way to go Stel…” he mumbled to himself.

“What do you mean?” Evan’s voice was louder still “You hang out with your ex and I’m the problem?”

“No, the problem is you being all pissy about something that isn't really a big issue. Jake and I...” Stella sighed, “We have history, a lot of history. Even before we dated we were friends and it's been so shit recently when we haven't been talking and...” her voice was gathering in speed and Jensen could tell she was starting to get upset. He had heard it and seen it a thousand times before.

“And why do you think that is, Stel?” Evan’s voice was now quiet, but the tone was cold and threatening, and Jensen took a deep breath. He didn’t like the way this was going. “Come on, you can’t be that oblivious.” Stella didn’t reply, and Evan continued “See, you know I'm right. You were on bad terms because he was a jealous asshole, you said it yourself with the way he behaved when we had our first date in the coffee shop. And everyone knows he was only dating that Britney bint to try and piss you off. Even your own sister said that.”

Jensen could feel himself getting hot with anger at the way the bastard was using Rey against Stella, despite the fact Evan was completely right. As much as Jensen had denied it at the time, that was totally why he ended up with Brit. Call it a rebound, a stubborn attempt to prove to himself he didn’t need Stella, whatever. The core of it was always down to her.

“Huh, he aint actually as stupid as he looks.” Jensen muttered to himself.

“He wasn’t jealous.” Stella responded, her voice quiet “How could he be when he dumped me? Twice.”

At that Jensen bowed her head, the hurt in her voice was evident.

“Who knows what goes through his head or why he did that, I've no idea, but if you think he's over you then you're mistaken. And I don’t like it, Stella, not one bit.” Evan took a deep breath “I think you should stay away from him.”

Jensen felt his mouth drop open a little and he blinked, had he seriously just told her that? He waited with baited breath for Stella’s reply, which came a second or so later, in a tone he knew only too well, she’d had enough.

“You know what, I’m not in the mood for going out tonight.”

“Okay, well, let’s stay in then.” Evan’s tone suddenly flipped to the doting boyfriend again and Jensen frowned once more. This guy was unreal. “I can cook us something”

“Dumb bastard, take the hint.” Jensen grumbled as Stella audibly sighed. He could picture her, running her hand through her hair, pressing the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes.

“I need to get cleaned up and then sort out this mess.” She replied “I think it’s better if you go home.”

“Seriously?” Evan spoke with disbelief “You’re actually telling me to go?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause “Fine.” Evan responded “I’ll leave you to it. You and Jensen can finish whatever it was you were doing.”

“We were making cookies.”

“Whatever, Stella. If you’re more interested in defending him than having dinner with me then, that’s you’re call.”

And then Jensen realised he needed to disappear before Evan came out and found him. He hastily made his way back to his apartment, and had just gotten inside when Stella’s door was wrenched open. So as not to attract attention to himself with the sound of the lock clicking, Jensen didn’t quite close his fully and stayed waiting for Evan to disappear. To Jensen’s horror he paused, looking directly at his door, before he looked back at Stella’s and then made his way to the elevator. After what seemed like an age it arrived and he stepped into it, the door pinging shut behind him.

Jensen felt bad, he really did. He hadn’t wanted Stella to be upset. But more over he felt uneasy. The way Evan had spoken to her, and directed the blame straight back onto her and then told her to stay away from him was manipulative, controlling almost.

And he didn’t like it one bit.

****

“Jensen, what’s with you man?” Roque asked, placing his empty bottle on the table. “You’re being uncharacteristically non-annoying tonight.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He felt Pooch’s eyes on him and purposely ignored him, looking around the bar at anything and everything. His eyes fell momentarily on a table of girls some four or so down from theirs one of them bore a fleeting resemblance to Stella actually and he hastily looked away, glancing down at his beer. He necked the rest and set the empty bottle down.

“My round.” Pooch nodded as he stood up, his hand falling onto Jensen’s shoulder “Give me a hand man?”

“Sure.” Jake stood up and followed him to the bar, passing the table of girls as they went.

“The brunette is giving you the eye.” Pooch nudged him. Jensen looked at him.

“What?”

“Okay, out with it.” Pooch demanded as they reached the bar “What’s wrong Jensen, and don’t tell me everything is fine coz I know you, and you’re not being you. You’ve been positively pleasant all evening and now when some chick is giving you the eye you don’t even notice?”

Jensen sighed, “I’m just a bit worried about Stel, man”

“Arty?” Pooch frowned, “What’s wrong with her? Is she ok? I though Evan was coming over to hers tonight?”

“He did. They had an argument, he left.” Jensen shrugged.

“They had an argum-wait? How do you know? Did she tell you? Coz I thought you weren’t on particularly good terms.”

“We sorted stuff out.” Jensen shook his head

“You were listening weren’t you?” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“That’s not the point.” Jensen shook his head and Pooch groaned having been given all the confirmation he needed “The point is what he said. And how he said it. He was angry, Pooch.”

“Everyone gets angry when they argue.”

“Yeah but he…I dunno, I don’t trust him.”

“Oh come on Jensen. Stop it. Enough with that shit. Stel is with him and she’s happy, face it.”

“He told her that he thinks she should stay away from me.” Jensen looked at Pooch. “Does that not strike you as, well, controlling?”

Pooch looked at Jensen and could see on his face that he was genuinely concerned.

“Ok, start from the top.” Pooch instructed, so Jensen did, explaining and Pooch took a deep breath “So now you’re worried he could be manipulating her?”

“I'm worried he’s not everything he’s cracked up to be.” Jensen replied after a short pause “And that she could end up hurt. And I don’t mean merely emotionally.”

“Woah, man that’s…that’s a big leap.” Pooch looked at him, before he turned to the bar tender and ordered their round, before looking back at him. “From being a little narky and, ok, possibly maybe slightly overbearing to being a fuckin’ woman beater.”

“Maybe.” Jensen sighed, “But isn’t it always the one’s you don’t expect to do it that do?”

At that Pooch was forced to accept Jensen made a good point and he bit his lip, cocking his head to once side. “Ok, suppose you heard right and the guy’s dodgy so to speak. What you wanna do about it?”

“I suppose I could do some digging.” Jensen mused “See if I can find any of his old girlfriends out there, see what they have to say.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I like where this is going.” Pooch groaned.

Jensen sighed, “I honestly have no idea Pooch. My gut was to tell Stella that I was concerned but knowing her she'll just accuse me of being a dick and it would just make it look like he was right about me.”

“Which he is.” Pooch snorted “You are jealous.”

“Yeah, well that's maybe but I'm being serious here Pooch. I don't trust the guy, and if she ends up hurt when I could have done something to stop it I'll never forgive myself.”

Pooch bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at Jensen, he could see the worry etched into every line on his friend’s face. With a loud sigh he shook his head, “Listen man, whatever you want to do I have your back. Wanna go all CSI on the guy? Then count me in. But do you and the rest of us for that matter a favour and admit to your feelings for her once and for all and do something about it or leave her be.”

Jensen snorted “You been talking to Clay, Pooch?”

“What? No.” Pooch handed over his card to pay for the round. “Why would you think that?”

“He just said something similar at New Years. That's all.” Jensen took a deep breath “This would never have happened if I hadn't been such an asshole.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Not helping Pooch.”

“Listen man, we don’t need to talk to one another to see you have strong feelings for her. We all know that and we all have been putting up with your stupid ass decisions.”

“Still not helping Pooch.”

“Ok Jensen.” Pooch shrugged, taking his card back off the man behind the bar with a thanks. “You could always try actually talking to him? You never know, he might be genuinely-“

“Are you nuts? The guy hates me!” Jensen practically exploded “And suppose I am right, which I may not be, I know, it happens occasionally.” He shrugged as Pooch rolled his eyes “Not only do I tip him off I’m onto him, he’ll rush to tell Stel as soon as I turn my back. Make it seem I’m harassing him.”

“So instead you wanna track his old girlfriend’s down and go poking into his past?”

Jake flashed his signature grin.

“Coz thats not harassing him. At all.” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“It’s not if he doesn’t know I’m harassing him.” Jake shrugged and Pooch let out an exasperated moan of a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I already told you Jensen. Whatever you want man. Just...oh, I dunno, try not to fuck it up with your usual chaotic dumbassery.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Jensen shrugged as he picked up 2 of the bottles from the bar.

“Sure you don’t.”

******

Two more beers later and Jensen called it a night and headed home, he wasn’t in the mood all things considered. Kicking off his sneakers he plopped down on the couch and reached for the remote, flipping through the channels. But it was no good, he couldn’t concentrate. His mind was working overtime as he was trying to figure out what exactly he was going to do. It was frustrating, because normally he’d just talk to Stella, they never had secrets but this was completely out of the question, and that frustrated the fuck out of him.

His rambling thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. Frowning, because that meant that either someone had gotten into the building or it was a resident, he stood up and made his way over to the door. He pulled it open and gave a little blink as he saw Stella stood there in a large, oversized sweater, leggings and thick socks, her hair pulled on top of her head in a messy bun, a batch of cookies in her hands.

“Oh, hey Stel.” He said, surprise evident in his voice “Come on in.”

She smiled as she stepped into his flat. “I thought you’d be out all night because Pooch said you were all out for drinks this evening. But I heard you come in so I came to bring you some cookies. After all you helped me with them, well, sort of.”

“Thanks Sel.” He smiled, genuinely as he took them from her “You want a drink or…”

“No, I’m good thanks.”

“Ok, well, go through, be with you in a second. I’ll just put these bad boys away.”

She nodded and turned, heading towards the lounge as Jensen made his way quickly into the kitchen and deposited the cookies in the tin, grabbing one as he did so. God they tasted just as good as they always did. He grabbed the empty container and headed into the lounge where Stella was sat on the couch and she smiled as he handed it to her.

“You ok?” he asked and she looked at him, nodding but Jensen could tell she wasn’t so he decided to call her out, see if she’d open up to him.

“You know, I've known you too long. You can't lie to me.”

She sighed.

“What’s bothering you, Stel?” he pressed as he sat next to her keeping a respectful distance of one seat cushion between them.

“Me and Ev, we err...had an argument before. Kind of a big one”

“How big?” Jensen asked, all the time knowing he had to play it cool or she would know he overheard.

“I… “ she fiddled with the sleeves of her sweater a little before she snorted “I sent him home big”

“Can I ask what you argued about? I mean if you sent him home it must have been pretty serious.”

Stella looked at him, clearly debating whether or not to tell him and then she sighed “He wanted to go out, I didn't. It spiralled from there.”

Jake took a deep breath as Stella looked at him having just told him a barefaced lie. What killed him the most was he knew she was doing it to spare his feelings, and he didn’t think he’d ever wanted to kiss her more. But he couldn’t, so instead he gave her a small nod and what he hoped was a sympathetic smile.

“Look, I'm sorry if any of it was my fault. And I'm sure you'll sort it out.”

“Yeah, I guess. In any case thanks for listening.”

Jake laughed “That it, we done?”

“Not much else to tell you. We fought, and maybe I overreacted to something he said. It’s just...” she studied his face and Jensen got the impression she was searching for some indication Evan was right about him being jealous. He fought so hard not to give her any, and in the end she shrugged “It doesn’t matter, it’s no big deal.”

“Big enough to make you upset though.”

“Well, it’s the first argument we’ve had.”

“Well you can drown your sorrows in pumpkin flavoured gin.” Jensen sniffed and at that she grimaced.

“Between you and me, I tried it before. It’s fucking awful.”

Jake laughed, “Then I guess Evan was right and you do taste better.”

“Jake!” Stella scoffed, slapping his arm.

“What? It was a compliment!”

“You're gross”

“Yeah but…”he smirked “…made you smile”

“Yeah, you do.” She looked at him, “I mean did. You know, just then…”

“I know.”

Stella gave him another soft smile “Thanks again, I should…” she gestured to the door with her head and Jake nodded.

“Walk you home?”

“I live across the hall.” She scoffed as she stood up

“Yeah but…” Jensen breathed in through his teeth as he also rose from his seat “Some dodgy people in this building Stel”

“Yeah, you're one of em.”

“Hey, you could be attacked by Mrs. Hunter’s Cat. You know it went for my ankle yesterday?” He looked at her seriously. “Like I said, snide little bastards. Cats are not to be trusted.”

“Alright then badass, you better see me safe across the hall.” She chuckled.

Jake followed her to the door where she turned and he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a soft hug. Pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head he stepped back and looked at her.

“You know where I am if you need me, don’t you?”

She nodded “Thanks. Night Jakey.”

“Night Stel.”

He watched her cross the hall, and when she walked inside she gave him a last smile before she shut the door.

Jensen exhaled loudly, before he turned and headed back into his own apartment, the door clicking behind him.

*****

Jensen didn’t sleep particularly well that night. His worries and concerns about Stella kept running through his mind and at six am he gave up, hauling himself out of bed for a run. On his way back he stopped by the bakery on the corner of the street to grab himself a croissant and a coffee and headed back to the condo, munching his breakfast. As he walked across the parking lot he spotted Evan’s car was parked outside the main door, the man himself sat inside, waiting.

And then all logic flew from Jensen’s mind. Fuck treading softly.

He stalked over and round to the passenger side, yanking it open and sinking into the seat besides Evan as the man looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

“S’up Agent E.” he smiled at him, taking another bite of his croissant. “You waiting for Stel?”

“Why else would I be here?”

Jensen shrugged “Maybe you like parking lots.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m waiting for Stella.”

“Why not just use your spare key?” Jensen asked, taking a loud slurp of his coffee before he looked at Evan. “Wait, more to the point, why are you not up there? Did you not stay?” The nerve in Evan’s jaw twitched and Jensen grinned. “You guys aint had a fight have you?” When the agent didn’t reply Jake took a bite of his croissant. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“What do you want, Jensen?” Evan looked at him, his features dark and Jake knew the time for joking was done. He took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Honestly? For you to fuck off.”

“Oh I bet you do.” Evan narrowed his eyes, his voice low and Jensen snorted.

“Not much of a bet, I just admitted it but whatever.”

“Well unlucky for you I’m not going anywhere.”

“For now.” Jensen shrugged “She’ll see through you at some point.”

“Face it Jensen, you fucked up.” Evan shook his head “Now I’m warning you, stay away from her, and me, and leave us alone.”

Jensen took a deep breath. “Ok, I was trying to be polite but I’ll get straight to the point.”

“Please do.” Evan’s voice was loaded with sarcasm.

“I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you.” Jensen stated and Evan gave a huge guffaw of laughter, Jensen merely shook his head “Yeah, you might laugh but I swear to God you hurt her and I will fucking kill you slowly and painfully.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Evan asked.

“Yes.” Jensen said simply “You forget, I’m a lethal trained killing machine.” He shrugged “And then there’s Clay, and Roque, and Pooch and Cougs…you kick one of us, we all shout ouch, you get my drift.”

He saw a flicker of something that might have been concern on Evan’s faced but no sooner had he spotted it, it was gone and the Agent simply swallowed and fixed Jensen with a glare.

“What makes you so sure I’m going to hurt her?”

“Because when I mentioned it before, instead of protesting that you wouldn’t, you simply turned it back to being about you.” Jensen shrugged “Now if someone had said that to me, I’d be doing everything I could to try and convince them they were wrong.”

“I don’t have to justify myself to you.” Evan snorted, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t” Jake shrugged “But you will answer to me if you do hurt her, like I said, I’m watching you shithead.”

“You know, when Stella hears you’ve been threatening me…”

“We both know you’re not going to tell her.” Jake shook his head “I mean you’ve already argued once. And I’d lay odds on that being about me. So, are you really gonna push it again when you’re hanging on by a thread? Don’t think so buddy.”

He took another obnoxiously loud slurp of his coffee and there was a pause before Evan exploded. “Ok, I’ve had enough of this, get out of my fucking car!”

“Gladly.” Jensen nodded, scrunching up the wrapper his croissant had been in. He tossed it into the foot-well and looked at it for a second before he shrugged “This car is full of garbage anyway.” And with that he climbed out headed inside, not bothering to look back.

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen #jake jensen x ofc #the losers #the losers fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Chapter 5: Bread Cat Power Pack Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Jake and Stella patch up their friendship, but Evan isn’t particularly happy about it.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N: We KNOW this is a slow burn but we promise things are going to heat up soon!!!

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Chapter 4 Part 2