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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 4 years

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The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (4/?)

A/N: Not only is this a long chapter, but I found a way to incorporate a prompt given to me by @hoodoo12 almost two years ago I think. Also, @twenties-sweetheart I incorporated what led the reader and Zeta-7 dating. This fic is almost done. I think there's only one or two chapters left. Hope you guys enjoy!

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

_________

Chapter 4 : Your Answer

You remembered when you didn't love him; a time when you had hoped he'd be a father figure and a friend who you could play card games with on Tuesdays. You used to not know him; though once you did there was no turning back. You used to not need him, but you didn't know how you couldn't. It used to be a simple crush, but he already loved you from the start.

Perhaps, you had always known, but you didn't want to see it; you had wanted to know, but your brain at times didn't want to believe it. You thought words like his were meant for fairy princesses who lived in high towers above the heavens, for royals and the knights who attended to them; for anyone else….except you. It just didn't seem possible that this man could want you, but he did and explained for the last half hour as to why.

“That’s...that’s amazing!” you exclaimed despite yourself. “You really feel that way about me?”

He nodded, his face still flushed. “I do...I-I-I love you. Do you,” he gulped. “do y-you love me?”

Of course you did, you had said so a few times already, but he was going to need a better explanation; to be reminded continually. You screwed your mouth to the side, wondering how you could put it delicately. “Well…there's too much to say, and I know it would never be enough, but I can try. Oh, and if I start to wax poetic, then let's just say it's the writer in me trying to get out. Ricardo,” you paused, encouraging him to sit down because the poor man looked ready to shake out of his skin. “what I feel is beyond love; it's our souls dancing and singing in the night, moonlit kisses, and disappearing during daybreak. Why it's not even serendipitous, but a luxurious splendor you shower me in, day in and day out, with breaks which threaten to tear me into bits and madden me. It's an adventure," he perked up at this; it was familiar territory. "with discoveries and revelations that nip at my inward parts, and pains me with equal parts desperation, fear, and gladness." Caressing his lips with your fingertips, he sighed happily." You fill my mouth with bliss, working peace along the curve of my cheek, and color my world with mystical, intelligent sayings. Ineffable creature, your veracity; how you express yourself so honestly, I'm surprised the whole world hasn't fallen in love with you. Though, I'm glad you reserved yourself just for me.”

Placing a kiss behind his ear, he made a funny noise, but you continued. “To say I love you my dear Zeta-7 isn't enough, for you are as much of myself as I am of you. Like I've said before, I'll remind you as much as you need me to.”

“H-h-h-h-how do you know? When - when was it that y-y-you started to see me differently?”

The question really struck you as odd considering it wasn't in any of his usual tones; he had seemed so sure of himself earlier, and now self-doubt peaked it's little head out. It was solemn, in a faraway voice, followed by a frown, and the deepening of the lines in his forehead. You stood up, seeing as he seemed upset, and he took this opportunity to go and make some tea; it was one of his coping mechanisms. Soon the scent of lavender filled the house; he returned and set down the cups carefully so as not to spill it.

“Oh,” he frowned; a bit tired from the emotional rollercoaster he had been in for most of the day. “I'm s-s-so sorry. If only I-I kept things simple, then it wouldn't have gotten so complicated.”

“It's okay,” you whispered. “we're both a little flustered. It….it really took a lot of courage to say what you had said earlier. So you shouldn't apologize for being human.”

“But I'm - I'm still so sorry.”

You moved your chair as close as you could, stretching out to work your fingers through his soft hair, and managed to find the beginnings of silver strands, but you said nothing of it. “You should have seen how you looked when you told me you loved me. You were so earnest and charming."

He reached out to take your hand and place it upon his heart. It was beating wildly, almost dangerously you thought. You waited until he calmed a little, and when the heavy blush and the redness of his ears softened, you knew that it was time. He really was too much, too good for you, too lovely, and you sincerely hoped you wouldn't offend him. “I hope you're ready, cause this really is going to be a long story. I think by telling it, it'll make my answer to your proposal more believable.”

________________

For years, you two had lived in the same town, in the same neighborhood, only houses away from each other. It was funny how you two hadn't met before, though Rick would later tell you it was because of his job. At the time, you would say you were old enough to know what heartbreak felt like, as well as what warmth and kindness should be; though you hadn't been in any sort of serious relationship. Like any woman your age, you had dreams of meeting someone, but for the most part, your love life wasn't first and foremost on your mind; you were busy trying to get through everyday.

So when you met Zeta-7, it never occurred to you how much he would someday come to mean to you; let alone how much your life would change. Now, it had taken a while, a little longer then you'd care to admit. It certainly wasn't love at first sight, for under the set of circumstances in which you two had met, Rick had come off as a friendly old man. But of course, after helping you carry groceries, a cup of tea, and a ukulele song, you warmed to him and became fast friends.

At first, you were hesitant in allowing him into your home; you'd seen enough Dateline to make you cautious. So, you two would meet on your porch on a regular basis, though it was not long before you felt safe enough to let him come over and repair small appliances; it was fascinating watching him tinker. And when he wasn't too busy, you'd go and see what he was doing in the garage. Perhaps you should have known then that he was different, but you had no point of comparison, and just went with it.

Sometimes, you two would just watch TV or have an occasional dinner at Shoney’s, or a late-night ice cream on your front porch. And you'd listen to his laughter; how his happy noises seemed to fill up the house. You were delighted by the nuances of his gentle voice, and at night, he'd tell about the stars, going into detailed explanations of constellations and about other heavenly bodies. It made you wonder what was out there, and it only fed your curiosity. You were comforted by his warm presence, thinking it was nice to have a father like figure around again, to fill up the time, and carry on long, meaningful conversations with. His eye for detail and selective word choice made most of your conversations laid back but stimulating.

Whether it was in your house, in his kitchen, or a quick cup of tea in the garage, he enjoyed sharing his homemade brews and you enjoyed drinking them. While at first glance he seemed simple, you took quick notice of his genteel manners, in the way he talked, in his general presence which you found was pleasing. It did not take long to notice that he was a learned man, with various degrees which hung in the left corner of his living room; he was actually a doctor in several meanings of the word. Perhaps in all meanings of the word.

Watching him mutter to himself, blissful, carefully piecing together a device that did who-knows-what filled him with joy. And you had always assumed that anyone above thirty-five - at least from what sense and sensibility told you - could not have any passion left, but you saw it every time he showed you a new invention; you saw him as he should be. As though he were this character who stepped off a page, you found yourself growing ever so curious about his thoughts, feelings, and machinations of his wonderful mind. You wanted to get close, to know him better, and he took this positively as you wanting to be best friends. And when he held you in his arms for the first time, you knew that he had ruined men for you. He wasn't supposed to feel so strong, and his arms weren't supposed to be sure, and hold you warmly, and most of all, there wasn't supposed to be a flutter.

Now having it formed in your mind that he was indeed a man, you could not smother your curiosity, though still, you tried to conceal it. It felt good to feel cared for again, and you didn't want to threaten it. Still, the affection you held for him was not the kind one felt for a parent. And your hopes and dreams were shattered, with this sudden, intense awareness of him, conscious of every breath he took, of his mobile features, recognized every nuance in his reflections.

All those times when you'd watch him dance in the kitchen, swaying about, more spritely than others your own age, you'd laugh, and he’d ask you to join him. And when your hands touched, it was like a current passed through you, and that giddiness would last all day. Those hands, which could create worlds, whisk a cream, or trace pictures in the sand, you could hold them in yours for eternity. Even longer, if what he spoke of at times was true.

If he had weeks where work kept him busy, he would call you, and you'd drop what you were doing to listen; he was always so excited to hear your voice; it lightened up your day. Or when he finally saw you after a few days, he'd greet you with a warm hug, and you'd return with equal enthusiasm. At times, you felt as though neither wanted to let go and held on to each other longer than what was platonically acceptable, but you'd pretend as though nothing happened, even if your heart was screaming. Why you'd almost lose yourself in his grasp.

As a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, you never felt as though there were any hidden agendas, or that he had a pervy attraction to you. On the contrary, you felt like the pervert for feeling all giddy and excited whenever he spoke with enthusiastic intelligence or showed you his experiments. There were times when you'd reach out and pat him on the back, telling him he had done such a good job, and he'd gift you with his winning smile, which caused unusual thoughts to cross your mind, and it messed you up. What was he to you?

Whether you were at home, or you sat in his home for a tea party, you knew something was the matter with you. You were a mess of feelings, of messy, happy, effervescent feelings, which you expressed in your work, in your writing. Harmless thoughts, which lingered and filled the contents of a novel. It was the story of a young woman who had fallen in love with her older, mute neighbor. In your head, you reasoned that your character was nothing like him, that the older man, as brilliant as he was in mathematics, science, and botany, who expressed himself through his actions, and kindness was made up. Perhaps your readers thought the same, but the modest ebook sales only reinforced that maybe there was something to it.

Missed glances, brief moments where you touched, awkward laughs, and a heart heavy feeling sitting on your chest; he was always on your mind. In between your issues, when you were doubtful, he'd reassure you of your capabilities, and when he felt lacking, you'd remind him of his genius. And while there were many moments which had been lovable, which were dear to you, you replayed the times that were nearest to your ideals; of what fits into your daydreams. You're not sure when, but it had been you who started to flirt regularly, and watch him blush, stammer, and get flustered; it gave you an odd thrill knowing it had been you who had caused him to feel as such, but then it would trouble you all the more. It wasn't fair to him, and you weren't helping your cause.

What were you doing, trying to toy with the feelings of an old, lonely man, who had little in the world, but your friendship and a few possessions; it filled your heart with grief. You didn't want to hurt him, you just wanted him to think you were beautiful, smart, funny, and well everything you'd want your crush to feel. If you were unhappy, he'd cheer you up with gifts, desserts, and his generous affection. For the most part, you knew his intentions were honorable, but in your head, you'd hope differently.

It could not work, he was so much older than yourself; not that you cared. For all you knew you were like the daughter he never had. In your heart, you tried to resolve that all you felt was friendship, but then he'd smile, laugh, or be kind to you and you were falling apart. You weren't a kitten, you had always liked men your own age, but you didn't just like him, you were intoxicated by him.

He wasn't even handsome. Well…at first, you didn't think so. You did however find him strangely adorable, and lovely. He was tall and slender, so he wore clothes well. Very gentle and nice, clean-shaven, with abundant blue hair, with the exception of the few strands which choose to be rebellious, prominent buck teeth which gave him a childish innocence, but straightforward, electric blue eyes which reminded you otherwise.

Your eyes would follow him as he moved about the room. Rick had long lashes for a man and was just as impressive overall, and intelligence was even more so. Could anything possibly stop him? Death perhaps, though Zeta-7 didn't care to admit how age played a big role in his energy levels at times, but you knew it was to be expected. You knew what you were getting yourself into when it came to dating someone so much older than yourself; if he'd consider it that is. For hours, he somehow kept up with your foolishness, and you barely managed to follow his genius.

You'd follow if he asked you to come, and in time you knew you were his. You felt loyalty to him, the kind which you knew you'd never revoke. You thought at first that it was his personable nature which had endeared you to him, but it was everything. He was everything.

Zeta-7 had always been affectionate, but not in the way which made you worry. You craved it, his attention, his affection, and wished to be closer than woven gossamer, and took everything he was willing to give you. You were not in love, you would tell yourself, it was merely infatuation. He was simply a cheerful grandpa kind of man, whose arms you would melt in, whose gentle, and generous affection you were greedy for. You were selfish, that was simply it.

Then came the defining moment, which happened one night while you two were cooking together. You needed a few cloves of garlic to chop for the eggplant lasagna, and he just kept handing you cloves. You told him you had enough, and he smiled warmly, telling you there could never be enough garlic and you stopped. You two stared at each other for what seemed like hours even though only seconds passed. It was as though you had come to an understanding.

His winning smile had been the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, his eyes captured you, and you knew for a fact that what you felt was something greater than friendship. The rest of the evening you found yourself in a daze, and hesitant to be near him. In your heart, your feelings felt as though it were almost forbidden, as though you shouldn't feel this way for someone who was a great friend. You blamed these feelings on your own impatience, inexperienced like the man before you. Yeah, you wanted his attention, and he had been attentive. Everyday he made sure your emotional needs were met, he'd probably do just about anything if you asked him to, but you were scared, perhaps just as afraid as he was. Still, the words themselves were an enigma, they burned, they toiled, begging to be said, but you were afraid. Yet, you searched his face, and found the answer; you were falling in love with him.

His sing-song voice twisting and curling about you. You wouldn't risk it you told yourself, but before you went to bed that night he called you and apologized if he had offended you. “No”, you had said, “I'm just not feeling well, but I'll be fine. I promise, I'm going to be okay, so you don't have to worry about me.”

“I-I-I can't help it, I care about you.” was his sincere reply.

Those dizzying warm feelings of affection bubbled and boiled, and you did your best to try to repress them. As usual, he wanted to help you feel better, but you were afraid it would ruin things; you'd rather hurt yourself, then hurt him, and never see him again. For the next week, you thought long and hard, and the next time you two met, you were sitting in his home for afternoon tea, and you told him of how you felt right out of the blue. “Rick, I like you.”

Being the dear man he was, he thought you were talking in platonic terms. “Gosh, really? Well, that's why I'm - why I'm glad we're best friends.”

“No,” you sighed. “that's not what I meant.” You watched as his smile turned to fear, but you continued. “I know you're much older then I am, and you probably see me as some kid, but I'm a grown woman, with adult feelings. And for a while, I thought it was nothing, but I can't ignore it anymore. I care about you as my friend and I understand if you don't want that to change, but I see you as a man, and I hope you realize that I like you so much. There's nothing you can say which will change it because I don't want to change these feelings of mine. I'm not saying this to make fun of you, or because I'm lonely, but to let you know that I like you and that I'm not ashamed.”

So what if you were a kitten, you cared about him, and you knew that if he were to let you down, he would be gentle about it. The sweet, kind man that he was, gently, and carefully placed a shaky hand upon yours and gave it a squeeze. And he cried, “Gosh, you - you don't know how relieved I am. I-I-I thought I was a pervert for-for feeling the way I had.”

“Wait, you….you like me too?”

He groaned, as though he were in pain, and studied you before he continued. “I-I-I don't understand, I'm - I'm so old and gross, and y-you are like a freshly bloomed rose. H-h-h-h-how…..w-w-why?”

You reassured him, taking his hand in yours, rubbing your face into his shaky palm. “Because I just do.”

When he calmed, he looked at you with such affection, and the soft look he gave you made your breath caught. He was in love with you. Even back then, his feelings had been greater, but you dared not believe it. How could you believe it?

Your kind, gentle friend had won you over with such kindness and attracted you with a tender heart. When did you know? In moments when you saw him, not the old man, but of the softness, the beauty of an intriguing mind, and of winsome determination to be happy and to help you be happy too. You held each other so tight, you felt as though you were bound together.

He held you with a strength you did not realize one his age even still had. This was a time before kisses, before great declarations. It was a time to feel, to learn, to hold one another in a soul-crushing embrace. His heartbeat was alarmingly fast, and there had been something almost boyish in the way he placed a tress of hair behind your ear. You were the first to admit your feelings, but he had been the first to ask. A nervous chuckle escaped him, and a little lip-bite followed. “I-I am quite fond of you, and seeing that we - that our feelings are mutual, would - will you…will y-y-you go steady with me?”

As archaic as the terms might have been, it was still charming, and being the kind of man he was, you knew he meant it, and that there was only one way to answer. “Yes, I'd love to.”

Of course, you would go out with him. And forever, that memory would be etched upon your soul.

________

With wide eyes, he remembered how ashamed he had felt. He sat up, ready to shield his face, but you held your arms open. Like back then, you held each other in a soul-crushing embrace. “Do you understand now, my dear, dear friend? There was no way it could have been anyone else. Like a tree planted by streams of water, I've flourished under your attentions. You see me…. you see what I am, as I am. We make each other happy, every day, all the time.”

You two were not wary strangers; passersbys in one another's narratives; not in this instance at least. Neither were you two butterflies emerging from cocoons; descendants of lovers found in a field of barley; discovering and reveling in springtime gusts and gales. No, you were not beautiful like alabaster apples on a ledge; nor figments of one's imagination. You were, however, on the cusp of change; this was the rest of it; the continuation of what had been attempted two years ago; it was nothing like how you thought it would be, but the expectancy of the moment was palpable nonetheless. For your part, you admired the lovely scarlet coloring which crept up his neck and tinged the top of his ears; how becoming it was as well as boyish. And if it weren't already obvious, you didn't need time to think of a reply, and with clear purpose, you answered. "And dear, well, we are still friends. We're best friends. The sweetest, dearest friends that anyone could ever have, except that we love one another. Oh, I do want to. I will marry you."

Oh, whatever future there might've been destined for him, you altered its course by your acceptance of his proposal. Unlike the nihilistic view where no one had a choice, and what had been written was set in stone and that nothing mattered, you decided would not be so. In partaking in this agreement, you had taken on the consequences of what might occur in connection with Rick's work life. You had also taken on the responsibility of what you'd have to do once Rick surpassed the ability to mechanize himself any further than he already had. Still, you could live with this new burden because you were no stranger to heartache and had to make the best of what you two had; love made you do it; unbidden joy was your reward.

Tbc

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cliquestitsandicks · 5 years

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Tracking Kat

Episode 1: Kat is mourning the end of her relationship with Adena. It has been 5 weeks since the breakup in Paris. She's still looking at old pictures of them and posted one. She still hasn't sent Adena's equipment to her, even though Adena has been texting her asking for it. By the end of the episode, she's admitted to (in order) Alex, Patrick, and Jane & Sutton that she is not okay. She is still sad about the end of her relationship. Alex tells her "you're so hard on yourself. You got your heart broken. There's no expiration date on heartbreak. You move on when you're ready to move on and when you *are* ready, you will find someone amazing. Someone who will never leave." Then Patrick is an entitled, invasive dick. She told her girls she wasn't ready for it to be real yet and that's why she hadn't told them... but she broke down in front of them. She'd finally accepted it was over. End of the episode, she makes an instagram post exposing her vulnerability to the world and packs up Adena's things for good.

Episode 2: Kat injects Jane for fertility treatment. She is very familiar with Jane's reproductive system at this point - best friends. She learns the Wild Susan, a club Adena took her to that became a safe space she frequents and which happens to be 1 of only TWO lesbian bars in the city, is closing. She learns the only reason it's happening is because developers want to gentrify the neighborhood. We learn Kat has a lawyer (not sure how that may come up later) that she met through the #BeReal campaign. Anyway, Kat throws a queer prom as a fundraiser to help save the Wild Susan. It ultimately fails because $42,000 in one night from poor people is a bit much. But it was a valiant effort and, as Kat learns, the gentrifiers were well aware of its impossibility. This episode is leading up to her political career. "I've been so into my feelings lately, it feels really good to challenge my energy into something that really matters". I am so proud of Kat. In Season 1, I would have worried she was avoiding her feelings, but the writers made a big deal of showing she's done the exact opposite of that in the prior episode.

Episode 3: Kat has been researching councilman Reynolds and he's a total piece of shit - helping gentrifiers, cutting funding to parks, and voting against paid maternity leave. She's fired up. Our girl is P A S S I O N A T E & informed! We meet the councilwoman for whom she plans to volunteer and her campaign manager, Tia. Tia's a tiny, bubbly boss with natural hair and a bright smile and we see Kat brighten up. We later learn she and Kat have more in common, both being NYU grads (actually overlapping while there) and both brilliant. Tia, however, is not from a wealthy and connected background. In their initial meeting, Kat tells Tia "I'm just looking for something to channel my rage and depression". Kat enlists her besties to help get the councilwoman to unseat problematic Reynolds. Sutton clearly sees something between Kat and Tia because she does a friend's background check (checking the social media) and tells Kat she looks very single to which Kat responds "it really doesn't matter because I'm still getting over Adena" and Jane seems skeptical of Kat's protestations with her silent smirk. We learn Kat has really soft lips. Kat is the voice of reason for Alex, being the first one to acknowledge the hypersexual "dangerous" Black man depiction that will likely be projected onto him if he admits he is the man in his friend's story. Then we see her naturally command the crowd at the rally. Again, I am so proud of Kat. She isn't holding back when she knows she should speak up. She's taking control of her narrative. She's fighting for what's right in a constructive manner. And now Tia, who has way more experience with this than Kat, is recommending she run for office.

Episode 4: We start the episode with Kat describing what would be her district and job description to her best friends. She's looking excited about the potential to do something that matters and really help people. In her conversation with the Toby (?. don't know, don't care), we get to see more of Tia being supportive of Kat and Kat being confronted with whether she's motivated to actually run or just wants someone to beat Reynolds. We learn Kat had an abortion in 2013 when she was 20 AS IS HER GOTDAMN RIGHT BECAUSE IT'S HER BODY, but it's something she's felt some sort of shame/concern over seeing as nobody close to her knew about it. Then, and this is so great, after telling her friends she has the conversation with Tia. Tia shares that she's had one as well and completely understands not wanting it to be public knowledge, but in sharing her experience educates Kat on yet another way vulnerable people are having their rights stripped, this time through manipulation and "crisis centers" that shouldn't exist. Tia remains supportive and doesn't pressure Kat at all with her decision. "I am by your side if they come for you, but you gotta do what's right for you". When we get that great speech from Jacqueline we see Kat being moved my the statement that you'll never know what you're capable of if you don't take a leap faith to face challenges that frighten you, then you'll never know what you're capable of. [i'd like to pause right now to say Jacqueline is fucking wonderful and i love her like my white auntie. also Sutton needed to hear that again just as much as Kat and i really appreciate this entire moment.] When Kat leaves Jacqueline's celebration, she passes by one of those "crisis centers" Tia told her about and decides to use her voice to help others. "I like to think of myself as a pretty strong, empowered, forward-thinking, open-minded woman. But, up until now, I haven't been able to talk about my abortion. If me putting myself out there helps even one woman to feel less alone, less ashamed, and less guilty then it's worth it." And just like us, dear Tia is blown away. She actually exhales a breath she didn't know she was holding and biiiiiiiitch (!!!! excitedly). and then they're dancing! This is the episode, upon rewatch, when i recognize how often Tia touches Kat unnecessarily.

Episode 5: Kat's entire recap includes Tia, ending with Sutton saying "she seems to be very single". Her very first scene, Tia is complimenting her walking out of some campaigning event we later learn was a Town Hall. Can we just talk about Kat's blazer for a second? First of all, i want it. Second, how did they find something so perfectly her? It's colorful but still semi-professional, fun, but still about her business. Heart-eye inducing. ok. So the next time we see Kat, she and Tia (whose last name they finally mention as Clayton) are reviewing campaign platform and doing debate prep at Kat's apartment. Tia's complimenting Kat almost continuously at this point. Clearly she's impressed, borderline gushing. and Kat tries to brush it off. Tia's not letting her. And there's this moment when Tia forces herself to break eye contact with her (around 5:40 of the episode). The show tells us Kat still hasn't dated since Adena, but Sutton brings up the "stupid smile" she gets whenever Tia's mentioned. She's making better decisions than Patrick and her being compared to Patrick is lowkey happening a lot. I'm starting to wonder if they're setting up Kat taking over digital if she doesn't win the campaign. Ok, the song choice as they pan to Kat and Tia... "I never normally check my phone 10 times in a minute. I'm not the girl to be kept on hold 10 miles from the finish." Again, Tia is very touchy with Kat, never anything inappropriate of course, but the hand is always on the back or the arm. and their interaction is just.. lovely. I squeal. it's so cute. they're so comfortable. Kat invites Tia to the dinner BEFORE (i got the timing on that mixed up before) Tia says she's "a boring straight girl" [the test determined that was a LIE... nah, my good sis Tia is dealing with some internalized homophobia which is no joking matter, but we don't learn that until the next episode]. Apparently, Kat can cook now? So she just liked Adena's food better i guess? idk... anyway. I get why some of the things Tia said can be taken as flirting, but i still believe that you accept what someone says is their sexuality until they say otherwise. yes, that's even when they're saying things like "when i see what i want, i go for it" and "Annndd she can cook. it's hot" and looking at you like that. Kat telling Jane to apologize because he's her boss and she got suuuper disrespectful and would absolutely deserve getting fired makes me proud. She's the mature friend now. She's the one with a level head on her shoulders. Kat finally makes her feelings known to Tia, but this is after Tia has already stated she's straight. Tia reiterates that this is a professional relationship and apologizes for Kat getting the wrong idea. I'm reminded of when Alex Danvers told Maggie Sawyer she was into her and she was rejected... but in that example i was floored and heartbroken for Alex because ugh, i just didn't see that coming. With this, however, it felt like Tia was clear in her words even if it shocked the hell out of me what the words were. So i didn't feel heartbroken for Kat. I thought... tbh... she brought it on herself for refusing to respect Tia's "no", however soft it was. But the writers did let us know it wasn't over with the music selection... Kat looking at "You and Tia make a great team :)" as "I'll go to war for you" plays.

Episode 6: All the emails have been released and Kat has no worries at all about that because she's a professional. And we get to see her be a boss addressing the entire group. Patrick isn't there this episode (YAY for our sanity!) and i think Kat being a boss so often when Patrick isn't around is intentional. When we see Tia, she says last night is forgotten but she thinks it's a bad idea to remain Kat's campaign manager... which is clearly a hard rejection. One can argue that it's too harsh for someone merely admitting they were into you. But it's just as easy to argue that it's appropriate after telling someone, very clearly, that you are not into them romantically and them ignoring that and saying that you were flirting with them on this date they never called a date before you were already there?? so i'm not mad at it. At the end of the episode, we find out that Tia was rejecting herself, not Kat. Turns out, Ms. Tia Clayton has known she's attracted to women since she was in high school, but she "didn't want to want it". Tia is so TINY AND ANXIOUS ABOUT HER SEXUALITY AND MANY OF US HAVE BEEN THERE. But... and i say this in jest... for someone who is really trying not to be out in the open with her gay, she sure was comfortable kissing Kat all outdoors for anyone to see. My good sis is smitten. I'm excited for the story. Again with the music during their scenes though... "I cannot fallll in love with youuuuu. I cannot feeeeel this way so soon, so soon." Also, my girlfriend and I have watched the gifset of the kiss over the phone and swooned (we live in different states for now). This episode, we also got the flashbacks (i missed Lauren so much). Kat's got red streaks in her hair, is a friend to strangers, has regrettable sex with men who taste like pickles, and is cute as a button. She also called Jacqueline "Mama Jackie" and that's it; that's her name now.

#the bold type season 3 #the bold type #katia #kat edison #tia clayton #TBT S3 SPOILERS #i rewatched the whole season today

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fourteenacross · 7 years

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For the ghosthunters prompts (this is from A Softer World): I think I've got fireflies where my caution should be (instead of slowing down, I just shine brighter)

Everything at the exorcism is going fine until it’s not.

Herc’s muttering incantations and Laf’s drawing runes on the ground and Burr’s burning different combinations of chemicals and Alex is ordering everyone around and it’s the sort of chaos that’s really business as usual. Until John turns and sees a second entity, or at least a second shape. It’s inching along the wall, a shadow of a shadow on the clear opposite side of the room from the spirit they’ve cornered for their ritual. It’s moving towards their electrical set-up and John doesn’t pause to think. He jumps out of the ring of salt spread on the ground, the one protecting them from harm. He runs for their set-up, another container of salt already in his hand because they don’t need that equipment to finish this, sure, but all that data…he can’t just watch as they lose all that data.

It doesn’t help that it’s lab equipment—any damage comes out of their paychecks, and they really can’t spare a thousand dollars in repairs.

Of course, his movement catches the attention of both of the spirits in the room. It’s a race to the equipment and John shakes a salt circle around it as quickly as he can manage. He miscalculates and there’s not enough to finish so he drops to his knees just as the shadows are converging on him and spreads the salt he’s already poured out, using his fingers to connect either open edge of the circle just in time. There’s not really enough space for him to move around, the circle is so tight, and with Herc shouting, now, and Laf muttering to himself and the unearthly wind whipping through the room, it’s not until the lights flicker again and the spirits are gone for good that John manages to get his bearings again.

The room is quiet in the aftermath of the exorcism, and John groans a little as he pushes himself to his feet, resting his weight on the audio mixer to steady himself. He hears Herc mutter a curse and Laf let out a long sigh and finally turns around again.

“You’re a fucking maniac, Laurens, you know that?” Herc says, stretching and rolling his shoulders.

“We’ve been staking this house out for three days, there’s no goddamn way I’m letting us lose all that data, especially not when it’s on a thousand bucks worth of lab equpiment,” John says with a shrug.

“Yeah, well, good job, man,” Herc says.

John wipes his palms on his thighs and looks up again to see what needs to be done to start packing up. His eyes fall immediately on Alex and he freezes.

Alex’s complexion has gone pale and grey, his eyes wide, his hands wrapped in fists around the recorder in his hand, so tight that his knuckles are white.

“Alex?” he asks softly.

“Laurens! Help me get these cameras down!” Herc calls over from the corner. John turns automatically to look at him, and when he turns back to Alex, he’s already directed his attention elsewhere, bent over a box and packing away equipment.

He brushes off the encounter and helps Herc with the cameras. He nearly forgets about it entirely as they load all of their equipment into Herc’s van and then go their separate ways home for the evening—Herc back to his apartment, Burr to campus, Laf to their apartment in his car, and John and Alex in John’s. He’s exhausted—they’re all exhausted, he’s sure. It’s late, they have work and class and paperwork waiting for them in the morning, and exorcisms always zap all his energy.

If Alex is quieter than usual, he doesn’t think much about it as they come inside and go through the motions of getting ready for bed. He’s a little confused when Alex climbs into bed after him, spooning up against his back, but while it’s uncommon for Alex to go to bed at the same time he does, it’s not unprecedented.

“I love you,” Alex whispers fiercely against the back of his neck.

“I love you too,” John says around a yawn. He wants to ask if something’s wrong—there was an edge to Alex’s tone, a frenetic energy that seemed out of place whispered in their bed as they curled up to sleep for the night. John is tired, though, and his brain is already full of a running tally of what he has to do in the morning. He’ll ask Alex about it in the morning, if he remembers. If he doesn’t…well, Alex isn’t one to hide his feelings away. If it’s important, he’ll bring it up.

John’s not normally the type to wake up in the middle of the night, especially since his jam-packed first semester at Morristown when he learned to wring every second of sleep he could out of a day. Something wakes him tonight, though, pulls him right out of a heavy slumber. He would have rolled over and gone right back to sleep, but he sleepily realizes the bed next to him is cold and, for whatever reason, that startles him awake. It doesn’t make any sense—he goes to sleep without Alex far more nights than he goes to sleep with him. Being alone in bed shouldn’t be enough to worry him. Something about the absence gets under his skin, though, and he sits up and rubs his eyes and stretches.

Alex isn’t in their bedroom, and after a moment of silent, internal battle, John slips out of bed to look for him elsewhere. There’s always a chance he’s gone for a walk or up to the roof; sometimes when he’s blocked on an article, a change of scene clears his head. Alex hasn’t left, though—he’s sitting crosslegged on the couch with the afghan from the foot of their bed wrapped around his shoulders. He’s not reading or writing or looking at his computer or tablet. He’s not doing anything, really, except staring into space and weaving his fingers in and out of the holes in the crochet pattern of the blanket. He doesn’t stop, even when John sits down at the other end of the couch.

“Hey,” John says.

“Hi,” Alex says. His gaze shifts slowly until he’s looking at John. The bags under his eyes are even larger than usual.

“Is something wrong?” John asks. “Did you have a nightmare?” Alex’s occasional nightmares have a routine, now, one that usually involves John reading to him or talking to him or, when he’s particularly jittery, driving him around the neighborhood in the middle of the night. Alex rarely tries to deal with them on his own any longer, and John’s a little hurt that he’s reverted back to that now.

But, no. Alex shakes his head and pulls the blanket more tightly around his shoulders. “Didn’t sleep long enough for nightmares,” he says. “At least, not the dream kind.”

John pinches the bridge of his nose. “Babe, it’s three in the morning. Please spare me the brain cells and just say what you mean? You’re usually so good at that.”

“You’re reckless,” is what Alex says.

John blinks at him. “Yyyyyes?” He waits for further elaboration. He’s well aware that reckless is probably in the top five mostly frequently used words to describe him.

“I just—I guess I’ve never thought about it before? Not really. I mean, of course I’ve thought about it—I’m fucking terrified of losing you, so I’ve thought about it, but seeing it tonight. It was different.”

John blinks again. “Alex—”

“You,” Alex explains before John can continue. “You just…leapt out of the salt circle. We were in a twelve by twelve room, there was nowhere to go and two entities in our space and one of them had already been violent and you just—leapt out. To save fucking equipment.”

“We were borrowing it from the lab,” John says automatically. “Damage comes out of our pay. Plus, three days of—”

“—data, I know,” Alex says. He waves his hand dismissively at John. “I don’t care. I don’t care about data, I don’t care about equipment. I care about watching you fucking jump into danger, watching two spirits converge on you, watching you drop to your goddamn knees in the middle of a exorcism like something was sucking the life out of you—”

John replays the scene in his head again and again and then says, “No, I was kneeling to fix the circle, they hadn't—”

“I know that now,” Alex says. It’s more like a hiss, something soft and sharp and ripped out of him. “Standing in that goddamn room and watching you drop from sight—I had no fucking idea what had happened but it felt like my fucking heart had been ripped out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe.”

John remembers the look on Alex’s face in the aftermath, the way he had gone grey and shocked, the way he stared.

“I….” John struggles for a response. What can he possibly say to that? He shifts on the couch and pulls his knees up to his chest. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s not—” Alex sighs sharply and covers his face with his hands. “I know that about you, right? I love that about you. That you’re just—that you just throw yourself into things. And…I don’t know, there’s a line, I guess. A line between doing things that are gutsy and doing things that are going to get you killed.”

John doesn’t know how to tell him that line is invisible if you don’t care whether you live or die.

“I don’t…think about things like that in the moment,” he says, which isn’t a lie. “I just…I react.”

“I know,” Alex says. He runs his hands through his hair. “It’s just…it’s like you’re missing the part of you that knows the meaning of the word ‘caution.’” He laughs a little. “God, I’m a fucking hypocrite.”

John wants to tell Alex that he’s not a hypocrite—that his recklessness and Alex’s are two different animals. He wants to tell him that there is something wrong with him, that these dangerous things happen and a part of him lights up like a beacon, like a shooting star. Something in him is activated by that danger, something that knows because he doesn’t care what happens to him, it’s his duty to do the things that no one else will.

But, god, that’s a conversation he doesn’t know that he can have. He can’t handle the inevitable look on Alex’s face while he tries to describe the difference between wanting to die and not caring enough to keep living. He definitely can’t handle it at three in the morning.

“I’m sorry,” he says again instead. “And I get it. Because this is a really fucking dangerous field we’re in and I feel the same way every time you do something stupid. But I can’t promise it won’t happen again anymore than I could ask you to promise me the same thing.”

“I know,” Alex says. “I just—I keep seeing it every time I close my eyes.”

They sit in silence for a moment. John finally gives in and crawls across the couch until he’s close enough to touch Alex. He holds back until he sees Alex’s shoulders droop and takes that as the invitation to touch, to wrap his arms around Alex’s shoulders and pull him against his chest.

“I’m here,” John says, because the only other option is to say I’m sorry for a third time.

“Yeah,” Alex says, tucking his face into the curve of John’s neck.

“And,” he adds after a moment, “not for nothing, but it’s your project about time-disturbance correlation that we were collecting data for, so I basically saved your ass from Adams.”

Alex’s body shakes with something between a groan and a laugh.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

“Yeah,” John says.

“Next time I’m gonna let a ghost suck the life out of you.”

“No you’re not,” John says, biting back a grin.

“No, I’m not,” Alex agrees.

And they really should go back to bed, but if they’re already up, there’s no harm staying here for a few more minutes, sitting close and quiet in the peace of the early morning.

#hamilton #john laurens #alexander hamilton #lams #the redacted boys #fic by me #they call themselves the trash of the thing

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