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#and twirl my clear plastic phone's cord around my finger going
nny11writes · 2 years
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last week i was talking about "my friend nunny" on a shera discord and someone who i havent already gushed about your fics to went "oh you mean nny11writes?" and anyway thats your name now
I just want you to know the mix of excitement and trepidation caused by seeing the teaser "last week i was talking about "my friend nunny" on a shera discord" was simply *chef kiss*
But also, I have accepted this, and I love you :)
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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years
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That’s The Way (Chapter 5)
Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader
Word count: 4.3k
Warning(s): Nothing! This is such a sweet chapter :)
Author’s notes: Another sweet little chapter with Jimmy and Y/N, with a guest appearance from Lillian, everyone’s favourite rascal ;) This chapter was honestly such a joy, and my partner in crime @rebel-without-a-zeppelin is so amazing as always!!! As usual, please enjoy, happy reading, and send us messages if you have theories, comments, music recommendations for the playlist, or if you want to be added to the tag list :)
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
——
Y/N was in the kitchen, washing the dishes as she hummed to a tune she had just heard on the radio. She had just spent the morning baking biscuits, brownies, and all sorts of homemade goodies, and everything was still warm and cooling on a plate on the counter. Lillian’s loud footsteps reverberating through the house signalled that these delicacies wouldn’t be there for much longer.
“Y/N! Y/N!” she shouted in her high-pitched, innocent voice, as her footsteps grew closer. She scurried through the kitchen to stand at her sister’s side, looking up at her with her big eyes.
“What is it, Lil?” her sister responded, still scrubbing a bowl with a soapy sponge.
“I need you to braid my hair,” Lillian replied softly, her smile glinting in the afternoon sun.
“What for? What’s the occasion?”
Lillian’s lips pursed into a grin that she was trying to hold back. “Nothing,” she said in a sing-song tone, her head curling into her shoulder bashfully, “I just like the way it looks.”
Y/N huffed. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here,” she motioned towards the sink with her sudsy gloves; it had been filled to the brim with dirty dishes, though the mountain of tableware was lessening by the minute.
“Pretty please? I just want to feel beautiful like you,” her little sister whined, tugging on Y/N’s clothes.
Overcome with empathetic emotion, Y/N conceded, removing her gloves and turning the sink off. Crouching down to Lillian’s level, she held her hands, gazing into her eyes.
“Lillian, don’t say that about yourself. You are beautiful, truly,” Y/N coaxed earnestly.
“But when you braid my hair, I feel my most beautiful,” Lillian frowned.
Y/N couldn’t argue with Lillian, because she herself had bouts of self-consciousness and low self-esteem. Oh, the joys of being a young girl, Y/N thought, a wry grin on her lips. Ruffling her sister’s hair slightly, she replied, “Go sit at the counter and grab yourself a biscuit then.” Lillian giggled as she scurried over to the counter, reaching to grab one of each baked good from the three plates.
Y/N ripped off a piece of paper towel and handed it to Lillian so she wouldn’t leave any crumbs in her wake, as Lillian swung her feet as she sat atop the tall barstool chair and munched on her biscuit, a mischievous look on her youthful face. Y/N stood behind her, putting two elastics around her wrist.
“What kind of braids do you want, Lil?” Y/N asked, grabbing a nearby pencil to separate a perfect middle part down the back of her sister’s hair then tying off one side.
“I quite like Dutch braids,” Lillian said cheerfully.
“Okay, Dutch it is.”
Just as Y/N separated three strands of Lillian’s hair, the phone began to ring. Oh come on! Y/N thought with a huff. “Hang on a minute, Lil, let me answer this.”
“Hello?”
“Hey Y/N, it’s Jimmy,” a familiar voice echoed through the phone. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sound, a smile creeping onto her lips. There was a part of her that hadn’t expected him to call, though the way her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice only confirmed how happy she was about it.
“Hey Jimmy, how are you?” she replied, leaning against the wall in an attempt to look composed, though she was twirling the cord around her finger nervously, almost combusting from excitement.
“I’m well, love, how about yourself?” he asked, his soft voice coming across as calm and casual, though he was, in fact, not calm at all, unbeknownst to Y/N. His sweaty palms readjusting their grip on the phone every few seconds as they spoke would have been a dead giveaway.
“I’m doing well, thanks.”
“JIMMY!” Lillian squealed from the background, “Tell him I said hi!”
Y/N laughed, “Oh, and Lillian says hi.”
Jimmy chuckled, “I heard. A very enthusiastic little one. Tell the sweet girl I said hello, if you don’t mind.”
“I will,” Y/N giggled before a pause, “What’s up?”
“Well, I have a day off today, you see. I’m going book shopping, and I was wondering...if you’d like to possibly come along...” he trailed off, almost unsure of his invitation.
Y/N’s stomach dropped at his invitation. He wanted her company?! As much as she wanted to jump for joy and scream, she had to suppress her emotions as best she could. Lillian was sitting right there after all, and if she caught wind of her small crush? Y/N would never hear the end of it. All of St. Albans would know, given how enthusiastic Lillian can be. She cleared her throat, recomposing herself before answering, “I’d love to come along! Thank you so much for the invitation,” Y/N gushed, “What time were you thinking?”
“How about twenty minutes?” Jimmy asked, “I’ll have my driver take us, so you don’t have to worry about transportation.”
“Perfect! See you then.”
“See you soon, love.” With that, the phone clicked, signalling the man’s departure.
“What did Jimmy want?” Lillian asked as Y/N walked back over to behind her chair.
“Oh nothing,” Y/N replied, taking three strands of her hair, “just asked if I would come shopping for books with him. He’s picking me up in twenty minutes.”
“Oh, that sounds like so much fun!” Lillian said cheerfully, genuinely happy that her sister was spending time with her friend. She was not at the age to assume any type of budding romance or feelings between the two, much to Y/N’s relief.
“Yeah, I’m excited!”
“Maybe you should give him what you baked,” Lillian offered, “I think he’d like them!”
“That’s a good idea,” Y/N agreed. “Since I’m not going to be home for a while, can you help Mum with the dishes? I feel bad I didn't finish them.” Lillian nodded with a hum as she quietly munched on her biscuit and a comfortable silence settled between the sisters.
Oh, to be that young and naïve, Y/N thought as she finished braiding Lillian’s hair, no stress, no problems, no worrying about boys...
~~~~~~~~
Just as Jimmy had said, his driver was in front of Y/N’s front door in exactly twenty minutes. She put a biscuit, brownie, and oatmeal cream pie into a plastic bag and tucked it into her purse before walking out the door. Butterflies erupted in her stomach as she walked towards the car, seeing Jimmy in the back seat with an open spot next to him.  
“Hello Y/N, love,” Jimmy greeted jovially as the girl slid into the seat next to him. The smile on his face felt warm and welcoming to the young girl, easily returning a smile with the same emotion.
“Hi! Thanks again for inviting me to join you,” Y/N replied as the driver smoothly pulled away from her house and started down the road.
“Oh, no problem! I was hoping that I didn’t have to go alone, so I thought of you,” Jimmy grinned. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way he fidgeted with his fingers nervously while he spoke. Could he actually be feeling as nervous as she was?
“That’s so sweet, thank you,” Y/N responded bashfully, smiling from ear to ear.
An unsettling silence diffused through the car, the only significant sounds being the radio playing softly in the background and the occasional bump in the road. The two, sat close to one another, felt so far away, as the cavernous quiet settled over them.
With a clearing of his throat, Jimmy spoke up, “Did you know that this is the first piece of vintage clothing I ever bought for myself?” he asked, showing off the navy blue military jacket he was wearing, adorned with several ornate gold buttons.
Y/N turned her head to look at his jacket with a grin, “That?” she answered, trying to sound serious in an attempt to tease him.
Jimmy frowned. “Yeah, you don’t like it?” he asked, slight panic bleeding into his voice at her teasing.
“Did you get it at the Embassy or something, to go off to war? Are you assuming the position of a Revolutionary War general, because I’m afraid you’re in the wrong country. And century.” Y/N said, a smile creeping past her lips as she failed to contain some of her laughter.
Jimmy huffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, it has a lot of buttons,” he admitted defensively.
“Yes it does,” Y/N chuckled. Then after a few moments of silence, she concurred reluctantly, “I like your jacket,” she said with a smirk.
“I knew it, I knew you did!” Jimmy laughed triumphantly, “It’s so cool, right?”
“It is pretty cool, I admit.”
“There’s also a bunch of pockets, so you can fit all sorts of bits and bops in there too. You wouldn’t even know,” Jimmy said with a wink.
“I can only imagine what you keep in those pockets,” Y/N grinned mischievously.
Jimmy’s jaw dropped in feigned shock. “What a naughty mind you have, Miss Y/N! How can you assume such a thing about me?”
“I’ve heard a few whispers about you and Jackie in my day,” Y/N giggled, “things I wish to not get into at this particular moment in time.”
“What did you hear? Who told you?” Jimmy said, an air of panic in his voice as he straightened in his seat.
“I can’t tell you that!”
“It was Jeff who told you, wasn’t it? The bastard.” Jimmy scowled, turning away from her to run his fingers through his hair. The slight tremor that rushed through them made the young woman smile. He was nervous.
“I said I can’t tell you! That’s for only me to know,” Y/N giggled.
Jimmy paused for a second, contemplating his next sentence before piping up, “Well, I should say that Jackie and I broke up actually,” he said quietly, his panic now overcome with sadness.
Y/N frowned, feeling bad for her friend. “Oh Jimmy, I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how difficult it is for you right now.” She draped her arm on Jimmy’s shoulder, hoping her physical touch would comfort him in any way. Jimmy leans into her touch, a sad smile settling on his lips.
“Thank you, love.” he nodded.
“When did it happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“A few days ago,” Jimmy continued, “I’m actually in the same boat as you.”
Y/N cocked her head in confusion. “In what sense?”
“Jackie was married the whole time, and I had no idea,” Jimmy replied solemnly.
“Oh my gosh, that’s awful!” Y/N said, “I can’t believe she would do that to you. You don’t deserve that.”
“I guess we were both someone else’s second choice.”
Y/N’s lips downturned into a frown, “Yeah…” she trailed off, “it’s the worst feeling in the world.”
You’ll never be my second choice, Y/N thought, I’ll always choose you, Jimmy.
“I might have a temporary remedy, though,” Y/N quipped as she opened her purse to retrieve the biscuits she had packed for Jimmy. “I baked these earlier, and Lillian said that you might enjoy them.”
Jimmy smiled as she handed him the bag. “Thank you for this, I really appreciate it, love.” As little as the words were, there was a tone of genuine appreciation in his voice. He really must have been going through a dark time. If there was a way she could help, no matter how small, Y/N would take that chance.
“You’re welcome. A baked good always makes me feel better, so I hope it does the same for you.”
Jimmy smiled down at her, his heart warming at her unbelievably kind gesture. Before he could say anything else, though, the driver had pulled up to the book shop; flicking hazard lights on so the two could get out right in front. They thanked the driver and walked into the store in tanduum, arms linked.
“What were you thinking about getting?” Y/N whispered as the smell of aged paper and freshly-cut wood greeted them.
Jimmy gave her a look that screamed did you really have to ask?
“Oh, okay,” She says, drawing out the first word with a subtle laughter in her voice. “Nevermind, stupid question.” Crowley manuscripts and textbooks. She knew that. She cursed herself for not thinking before she asked.
“You’re not stupid, don’t say that,” Jimmy said gently as he rubbed her arm soothingly, walking with her deep into the shelves and stacks of books. They were so close, her physical proximity and presence taunted him, and her scent dizzied him.
Their eyes scoured through the various titles, seeing if anything caught their interests. Y/N saw the trademark bright orange spine of The Catcher in the Rye, and quickly pulled it out. She never had the chance to read it whilst at school, but it was on her mental reading list.
Jimmy watched her intently as she read the synopsis on the back cover, her irises twinkling in the golden light that shone through the store. Her lips, her beautiful lips that he dreamed about kissing one day, were pressed together in concentration. She must have just put some lip balm on, because even they were twinkling. They looked like little pillows, so soft and supple and warm…
Y/N’s face now looked at the shelf once again before glancing at Jimmy with a grin. He prayed that she didn’t see him admiring her. Jimmy simply smiled back as if nothing had happened.
“The Catcher in the Rye, I see,” he initiated.
“Yep. I never got to read it in school, and it’s on my little mental reading list. I heard it was really good,” Y/N shrugged.
“What else is on your mental reading list?” Jimmy asked, “I can help you look for those, too.”
“Hmmm,” she thought aloud, “Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk, Middlemarch by George Eliot, and Summer Crossing by Truman Capote. I also want to get The Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl for Lillian. I loved it when I was little.”
“You’re a woman of good taste,” Jimmy grinned, feeling himself falling for her even harder. He had thought it impossible, yet he was obviously proven wrong by the feeling of contentment that settled over him whenever he so much as looked at her.
“Thanks,” she said, blushing as she sheepishly chuckled at the compliment.
The two slowly walked through the aisles trying to find the titles Y/N had mentioned. Jimmy found Marjorie Morningstar and Summer Crossing, and Y/N loved the way his face lit up when he finally found what he had been looking for. Y/N was able to find Middlemarch and The Fantastic Mr. Fox herself, as Jimmy practically drooled upon sight of her when she wasn’t looking. His personal thesis of Y/N being an angel had been proven correct many times that day, but these rather intimate circumstances really pushed it (and himself) over the edge.
Crushes are so foolish, he thought, why am I acting like this?!
~~~~~~~~
Jimmy invited Y/N to go to his Pangbourne boathouse for some tea after their shopping excursion, for a chance to talk in a more private setting and scan through their purchases. He showed her around his house, since it was the first time she had been there since they had met; it was a Edwardian-Pre-Raphaelite hybrid dream, and Y/N found herself amazed with every nook and cranny.
“Next summer, you’ll have to come up so I can take you out on the boat,” Jimmy said as he showed her his boat and the view from the dock.
“That would be so fun,” Y/N smiled, “how often do you take it out?”
“Not too often, unfortunately, with all the travel and studio time.”
“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m sure that will pick even more now that the Yardbirds will be traveling more.”
“Yes, you’re definitely right. But I’ll make time next summer for that boatride,” he grinned as he led Y/N back into the house and into the living room. She pursed her lips to hold back a smile full of gratitude, but to no avail.
His housekeeper must have just put a tray of tea and biscuits on the coffee table, because it was still steaming.
The two sat opposite of one another, taking things off the tray as they pleased, silence hanging in the air. Once they were situated, Y/N daintily crossed her legs with a smile as she held the cup on top of her clothed thigh.
What a sophisticated lady Y/N is, Jimmy thought as he looked at her, I wonder what she would be like in a more intimate setting…
Shaking the dirty thought from his mind, he rambled, “So I’ve been thinking about something...the other guys in the band know about it, and they agree with me...actually, it wasn’t my idea, it was Jeff’s…”
It wasn’t Jeff’s idea. He lied.
It was Jimmy’s idea.
“Oh! What is it?” Y/N asked as she tilted her head in confusion, “It sounds bad, should I be scared?” she ended with a giggle.
“Oh no! Of course not. You see, there’s so much to say, and not a lot of time to say it, so I have to go big.”
Oh my God, Y/N thought, what if he asks me out? Jesus Christ. I hope he does. But he probably won’t. He doesn’t like me. What can this mean? Jimmy, you’re killing me! However, she sat with an expectant look on her face, trying to accurately anticipate the information.
“I was wondering...if um, if you—Oh, Christ, I’m horrible at this,” he chuckled embarrassedly with a shake of his head, a pink flush dusting his cheeks.
Oh fuck, he’s gonna do it! Y/N thought excitedly.
“Oh gosh, don’t be afraid! It’s just me! Really, what’s the worst I can say?” Y/N joked, hoping to ease his obvious nerves.
But it’s not just you, Jimmy thought, you’re so pretty and nice and smart and funny...you don’t know half of the things you do to me…
“Well, I suppose you’re right,” he said, humouring her, “The Yardbirds are leaving to go to America within the next few weeks for the Dick Clark tour, and I—I mean, uh, we, would love it if you joined us.”
Y/N’s breath rushes past her lips with a surprised, almost unbelieving gasp. They wanted her to go on tour with them?! She again had to fight the stupidly giddy smile that would find its way on her lips.
“I would love to! That is so generous of you, thank you so much! I feel like I’d cramp your style though...I wouldn’t want you lot to lose women because of me,” she laughed.
“Most of those birds are nuts anyway,” Jimmy laughed with her, “They’re too caught up in themselves to notice the other people around them. Honestly, in theory, you’d probably attract more women to us.”
“I’m that bad, huh?” Y/N smirked.
Jimmy’s face became even paler than it already was. He didn’t mean that at all.
“Oh no! That’s not what I meant at all! Sincerest apologies, Y/N, I feel terrible. You’re so beaut—”
“I’m kidding, it’s okay,” she cut him off with a lighthearted chuckle, “I know where you’re coming from.”
“Okay, good,” he sighed, relieved. Y/N smiled before an awkward silence settled over the gorgeous tea room.
“So when is this tour happening?” she asked.
“End of October.”
“Wait, shit...I’m in university right now…”
“Oh, you’re right, fuck…” Jimmy muttered, his lips pursed in a pensive line, until he almost jumped out of his seat with excitement, “Wait! I have the perfect excuse for you.”
“Really? What did you have in mind?”
Jimmy smirked. “What if...you said you were participating in a study abroad-internship-sort of program for the fall semester?”
“I’m listening,” she said with a light giggle.
“Say that ‘it’s an opportunity to explore the depths of the cultural renaissance that is the British blues scene, which has indefinitely flourished over the past few years, as well as utilizing communication and leadership skills in a practical environment.’”
Y/N raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, that’s good,” she nodded her head, “that’s really good. I love that.”
“Then all you need is for myself and Simon Napier-Bell to sign off on it, as well as your dean, and you’re good to go.”
“That’s genius, Jimmy!”
“Why, thank you Miss Y/N,” he said with a joking courtly bow.
~~~~~~~~
Y/N, with much pushback from the dean at her university, was able to acquire course credit for going on tour with the Yardbirds. Simon Napier-Bell, as well as other members of the Yardbirds administration, had to come into the dean’s office to fight in Y/N’s favour. All she had to do was take photographs and write a paper on it for the end of the semester.
Not too bad.
The week preceding the beginning of the tour, Y/N was so full of nervous excitement that she could barely sleep. By the time her brother dropped her off at Heathrow airport, people had taken notice of the dark circles that hung around her tired eyes.
“Y/N, you look like hell,” Jeff exclaimed as Y/N got out of the passenger seat of Tommy’s car.
“Thanks,” she deadpanned as she shut the car door, walking to the back to grab her luggage.
“My God, you have to pull yourself together,” he added as he walked with Y/N, “you look like a raccoon.”
“He doesn’t mean that,” Chris called hopefully.
“Well, I’ll sleep enough when I’m dead,” Y/N smiled as she walked over to the group at the sidewalk with her suitcase, “and I guess you’ll have to play ‘Rocky Raccoon’ to serenade me then.”
“If Y/N did, in fact, have to ‘pull herself together,’ she wouldn’t be wearing a floral dress and a jumper to an airport,” Jim said.
“Thank you Jim,” Y/N smiled, “but I do look like hell though. He’s not wrong. I’m really tired.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Why’s that?”
“I didn’t sleep this entire week,” she chuckled, “My excitement for this day got the better of me.”
“Why don’t you take a nap on the plane then, love?” Jimmy asked, “You can get sick from lack of sleep, and we can’t have you sick when we’re abroad.”
“I brought my melatonin just for sleeping on the plane,” she smiled, “and I just took a shower too, so I’m ready to go to bed.”
“Lads, we have to go now. The security line is already awful,” Simon called as he rallied the boys and Y/N together to enter the airport.
Everyone obliged, groggily entering the airport as the road crew pushed heavy baggage carts of encased instruments, monitors, and other electronics behind them. The security line was dreadfully long, but they made it through and boarded the plane with little time to spare.
As Y/N was walking on the tarmac to board the plane, Jimmy caught up to her.
“Where are you sitting? What does your boarding pass say?” he asked, out of breath from running.
“I’m in 10C,” she laughed at his disheveled state, “what about you?”
“10B.”
“Oh, looks like we’re sitting together then,” Y/N smiled.
The two entered the plane and once they got to their seats, Jimmy realized that he had the window seat.
“Uh, Y/N?” he asked, shifting his weight between his feet anxiously.
“Mmhmm?”
“Do you mind if we switch seats and you take the window seat?” he inquired, a sheepish countenance flooding his face.
“Oh no, I don’t mind at all,” she smiled as she sat down in Jimmy’s original seat, “Why do you ask? I think the window seat is so cool.”
“You see, I’m afraid of heights,” he explained as he sat down in the aisle seat, “not to be dramatic, but all the air travel has me fearing for my life.”
“Oh, I see. That’s valid,” she understood, “Planes can be uncertain.”
The two engaged in quiet conversation before the plane engine started with a roar, and the aircraft started to make its way down the runway. Once the speed accelerated and the wheels rumbled, a telltale sign that the plane would be leaving the ground any minute, Y/N noticed how Jimmy’s leg started bobbing up and down uncontrollably.
Hoping to sooth his worries, she intertwined her fingers with his as the plane ascended, sending him a gentle, comforting grin. Jimmy squeezed her hand to reassure her that what she was doing was helping. His spirits were automatically lifted, and his entire body felt bubbly as heat invaded his cheeks.
About a half hour into the flight, Y/N’s eyes were starting to droop, but she was desperately trying to fight off the sleep. She had to stay awake and not look stupid sleeping in front of Jimmy.
Jimmy took notice of her drowsiness, seeing her lightly dozing against the window, as he put a fragile hand on her shoulder. The girl woke up with a deep inhale, lightly grinning at him as if she weren’t just asleep.  
“Y/N love, why don’t you take a melatonin now and try to get some sleep?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” she admitted self-consciously, “I have to give into it now.”
She took the melatonin with a few sips of the water one of the stewardesses had given to her.
“Put your head on my shoulder so you don’t wake up with a sore neck from the window,” Jimmy coaxed gently.
“Thank you,” she said with a stretch, placing her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, “‘night.”
“Sweet dreams,” he laughed.
Next to Jimmy, the soft motion of the plane lulls Y/N closer and closer to sleep. Head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his aftershave, and something that was so uniquely him, Y/N slept the best she had in weeks.
————
Taglist: @blood-on-blood @reincarnated70sbaby @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmys-zeppelin
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alias-b · 4 years
Text
Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me
California, 1992. Billy Hargrove and Camille Harper built their future in an endless, red hot summer. Everything changes with a splash of pale blue. Billy x OC! Camille Harper
A/N: The baby one shot I promised everyone! Occurs after my fic, "Without The Lights." Warning, I get into the not pretty side of pregnancy and Camille struggles with her illness. Sexual content. TW: graphic description of birth and postpartum depression. Mention of death and past torture. Cross posted here on AO3
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1992
   She’d been late.
   Camille Harper was never late to anything.
   Then, she’d taken ill. Scents that used to thrill her in the morning like fresh coffee, fluffed pancakes, and scrambled eggs sent her scurrying into the bathroom.
   Billy looked up from his desk, covered in different lead pencils and scattering papers. Grotesque concept art for an upcoming horror film he’d been working on. Still pretty as a picture. Less of a baby in the face, but still just as sweet. Sprinkle of facial hair and lashes for days.
   “Ugh, so much for sleeping in Saturday.” Camille gargled mouthwash, spat, and wandered out. Brown hair grown out and piled up in a bun. Billy’s arm snaked around her hips, bringing her into his side. A temple pressed into her nightgown. “I don’t want to get you sick.”
   The back of his knuckle drew along her forehead. Cool metal of his wedding ring chilled.
   “No fever. You probably ate something last night, I told you the shrimp was a bad idea.”
   The very word ‘shrimp’ almost made her hurl again.
   “We’re not trying that place again.” Camille kissed the top of his head. Curls longer like a rockstar around his shoulders. “I have a new case to prepare for the office Monday.”
   “Boy or girl?” Billy set his pencil down and watched her plop into the couch.
   “Girl.” Camille frowned, rubbing her head. “She’s got a wall up, this one. Office likes me so her case is mine. Arthur thinks it’s a good match, but I’m actually nervous.”
   “Arthur this and that.” Came a scoff. “School buddies who ended up at the same office. Pshh.”
   “Arthur is taken now and quite happy.”
   “Who swept him off his perfect feet so he’ll quit bothering my wife?”
   “Lovely man named Stanley.” Camille laughed when Billy gave a double take. “Went drinking together while you played with latex masks last Thursday.”
   “It was crunch time. I’m sure your new case will be fine. Brilliant Dr. Harper. Blazing through all that schooling and study abroad. Almost in the clear.” Billy mused, switching his light off. “We’ll see if they like this new design I got. Tea?”
   “Yes, please.” Camille slid down the couch, pulled a fuzzy blanket into her body while Billy went into the kitchen. Cozy apartment they could afford. Walls covered in memories. Photos and degrees. She clicked the remote and settled on a light movie. Look Who’s Talking.
   A campy opening of sperm headed toward a dropped egg after a mini love scene with Kirstie Alley. Camille sighed, rubbing her head before something clicked the same moment hot water howled from the tea pot in the kitchen.
   “Oh, shit.” She shot up. Blinked. “No way.” They hadn't exactly been trying. But, they hadn't not been trying.
   “Getting your Travolta fix?” Billy set a mug down and Camille blinked at him.
   “Ah, yeah.” She shot up. “I just remembered...I was supposed to hit the drug store. We’re out of...everything.”
   “Everything? I’ll drive you to the store.” Billy chuckled.
   “No, it’s just around the corner, I need the walk. Fresh air. No shrimp.” Camille skidding around him to toss clothing on their bed. Dressing in jeans and a tee. “Keep working. Need anything?”
   “I’d kill for a Milky Way.” He shrugged, plopping back into his seat. Camille was hopping around to put some shoes on. Sun from outside caught his face and she pressed her lips, kissing his cheek.
   “I’ll bring you something sweet.”
   Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Camille nearly jogged down the steps from the fourth floor. Grabbed a basket when she got to the mini-mart and tossed randoms items they needed in. Billy’s candy included. Stopped in a section that made her cold.
   Pregnancy tests.
   “Jeez.” She mulled over boxes before snatching one.
   Ignored the idle way the clerk peered at her stomach when he rang it up. Christ. California sun and wind swept against her body. Usually it set her at ease, but a ball of nerves sank into her stomach when she took the elevator back up. Billy was on the couch now, looking up as she tossed the candy into his lap.
   “You okay?”
   “Feeling sick again.” Camille half lied and went into the bathroom. Locked the door. Stared at the clear plastic curtain as she peed on a stick. Washed her hands and pulled at her watch. It ticked slower to spite her.
   “Camille?” Billy knocked. “Something’s up.”
   “Ah, just a second,” she paced, “give me just another second.”
   “Let me help.”
   “Oh, believe me...you did.” She sat on the side of the tub. Stared at the colored tiles. So many to count. Billy exhaled on the other side of the door. Didn’t leave. “Billy, I’ll be fine.” Her own tone shook.
   Did she want this?
   Were they ready?
   How was she going to feel if it’s nothing?
   How was she going to feel it it’s blue?
   Camille didn’t have time to think through each possible dream because reality spoke for her.
   Blue. Crystal clear sky.
   “Camille.” Billy jimmied the lock until the door popped open. She looked up in tears.
   “...Is that?”
   “Blue.” She breathed with one fist curled to her chest. Burst into tears. Unable to tell if they were happy or sad. She just needed to cry. Billy swept toward her.
   “Hey, hey. I got you.” Billy kissed her cheeks until she was soothed. Held her there while she clung to his shoulders.
   “It’s blue.”
   “What’s...that mean?” Billy met her eyes. “You’re...”
   “Blue.” Camille said again. Licking her lips before they pressed. “I’m pregnant.”
   “We’re having a baby?” Billy blinked at her. She waited for him to panic. But, he smiled. So bright that it made her burn with jealousy to be confused about it. “We’re having a baby!”
   Billy grabbed his wife. Held her close to him. Settled Camille just a little, she tried to feed off his glow.
   “Ninety nine percent accuracy. We need to, ah, go to a doctor first.” She let Billy pull her up. Out into the living room.
   Why was she riddled with confusion and anxiety while he bubbled with excitement? He danced her around to no music like a true romantic.
   “Let’s not...say anything until we go. I’ll make an appointment. After my meeting Monday?”
   “Yeah, yeah.” He swept hair aside and smiled again, so youthful. Kissed her there in the sun. Meanwhile, she felt life being sucked into a swirling pit. Billy tugged Camille into the couch, nestled her into his chest. “Are...Are you happy?”
   “I’m… Blue “...something.”
** ** **
   It was real. Confirmation at the doctor and life turned in on itself. People were careful with her. Work tried to withhold cases she’d fought for.
   She had a woman’s condition. They treated Camille like it was fatal.
   “Jim? Are you still there?”
   A thud on the other end was followed by scrambling.
   “Camille?” Joyce had the phone now. “Jim, get up.”
   Camille laughed that time.
   “Your father’s fine, just shocked. Oh, Jim, stop being dramatic!” Came some bickering.
   “I’m going to be a grandpa!” There was more laughter on their end.
   “Can you two stop kissing in my ear already?” Camille twirled the cord and stretched her legs out into Billy’s lap. Let him massage her ankles. “We wanted to know...if you guys would come down for the birth. Should be early November, I’m due.”
   Billy started counting something on his fingers, earning a soft kick.
   “Max and El already freaked. Letting them follow me to UCLA was such a mistake.” Camille joked. Mike and Lucas in Washington. Will and Dustin following Nancy and Jonathan to New York. Steve, Heather, and Robin living blissfully in Chicago. Rumor had it Regan and Kali turned up there too.
   “You’re listening to the doctors, right?” Jim turned stern. Such a dad.
   “You know it,” Camille brought the phone away, “Billy, you want to pass me a beer?” He just snorted.
   “Hey, none of that.” Jim was in her ear. “We’ll fly over now.”
   “No need. We’re fine. We’ll figure things out when it gets closer, yeah? Telling work was mortifying enough. But, we got the leave figured out. Arthur’s been such a help. Don’t worry about anything.” Camille sighed when Billy’s hands worked up her legs. Had to slap him out of her skirt.
   “Congrats, Camille! Billy, you tell Susan?” Joyce stole the phone.
   “We heard her crying from over here. Same with Grace. She and Elliott choked him near to death. Billy also tells me that Miss Mayfield was set up with a certain middle school teacher, how the hell did that happen?”
   “Mr. Clarke can be quite charming,” Joyce chirped and a groan erupted from Jim, “passes Susan’s little boutique on the drive to the school every day. Started stopping in. Flirting in his way. I couldn’t tell you.”
   “Glad Rosemary’s former team was willing to do us some favors and help her out with that.” Camille was still squirming away from Billy’s advances. His lips on her neck. “Well, I should go. But, any and all advice is wanted.”
   “She already tore through all the mommy books in the library. Ignore her.” Billy stole the phone. “Hops. Can I call you Pops now?”
   “If I can call you, dead.” Jim smiled when Joyce swatted his chest.
   “I expect you to spoil my kid.”
   “Will do. Make sure Camille takes it easy.”
   “Oh, I will.” Billy said goodbyes and pushed his hips into Camille’s, a sigh followed.
   “Hate you.” She settled her arms around his neck. A long kiss followed.
   “Valentine’s Day.”
   “Hm?” She went for his neck and jaw. Immersed in him.
   “By my count, we made her Valentine’s Day. Wonder if it was the car or the counter or the couch or the bed?”
   “I hate you...and it could have been the floor too.” She chuckled into his skin. Kissed him fiercely. The phone rang again. Billy reached over to snatch it.
   “Hargrove.” He let Camille paw at him. Twirling his hair about. Worshiping him with starry eyes. Billy’s own eyes opened and he pushed up with Camille still attached to him. “Why are you calling, I’ve told you-?”
   Camille let him go immediately. Saw the cold way he went rigid.
   “What?” Billy sounded breathless. “I...”
   “Billy?” Camille touched his face when his eyes welled.
   “Fine, just don’t call here again.” The phone slammed and he was up. Pacing. Rubbing his eyes.
   “Billy, who was that?” Camille hurried after him. Tried to tug at his arms but he slipped off.
   “Just...give me a second.” He didn’t make it into their room. Collapsed to the floor and covered his face.
   “Billy!” She gathered her husband into her chest. He just sobbed. “Billy, who was that?”
   “...Neil. He's been trying to call.”
   “You didn’t tell me that.”
   “I didn’t want to freak you out. I kept hanging up. I was terrified you’d pick up and he’d...” Billy sniffled. Clung to her. Cried more. Camille petted curls helplessly. Kissed blond hair and soft cheeks all better. “He’s sick.”
   “What?”
   “He’s dying. Cancer. Not the kind you get better from.” Billy lifted. “Don’t know why I’m crying about it, I’ll be glad he’s… He asked to see me. How can he fuck up my life and then just…?”
   Disappear.
   “Where is he?”
   “Colorado.” Billy wiped his eyes. “Fuck him.”
   “Do you...want to go?”
   Billy thought of Neil with his skin sunken and yellow. No longer handsome. Rasping at him from a mattress. Pissing himself. Dying alone in a cold bed like his father before him. He turned to Camille and cupped her stomach.
   “No, I don’t.” A long kiss into her abdomen. “I want to hold our baby. Take her to the park. Make her feel safe. I promise I’ll never...” He stopped. Blinked several times. I’ll never be like Neil. Nuzzled into Camille’s neck. “I love you.”
   “I love you too.” She let Billy’s broad body sink into her. Brought him to bed where they could wrap each other up. Feverish and dizzy until he pushed inside her. Melted their mouths. Gasped into her neck. Succumbed to the sweltering heat. He sought comfort and burrowed under her skin. Pushed fingers between thighs. Fucked her into the mattress while they reached peaks.
   Hours later, Camille heard Billy get up, thinking she’d fallen into slumber. Came to the door to listen.
   “Hey...” He said into the phone. Whispering. “No, you listen. I’m not… I don’t want to see you. I’ll just remember you healthy. Able enough to give hard lessons. I just...wanted to call and say Camille and I are having a baby… I think it’s a girl.”
   There was silence for a few beats.
   “We’re going to name her Sara and she won’t be learning hard lessons. She won’t be afraid of me like I...” Billy paused.
   Life flashed these vivid images of his childhood. His mother’s bracelet scattering across the pavement. That one moment Neil let him cling.
   “You ever think things could have been different for us, you know, after mom? I do. A lot. But, I can’t live in that… You beat the shit out of me. You hurt my wife. You hurt Susan and she’s still trying to move on. Max’s hair is all grown out and she won’t let anyone touch it. You won’t hurt my daughter. But, I’ll tell her about you. Tell her she had a grandfather who made bad choices and ended up…”
   “...Yeah, I think she’ll get the Hargrove jaw too.” Billy softened, lifted his eyes to the starlight beyond the window. Wondered if Neil was looking too. “I’ll tell her your name. Not much else. Hardest lesson I learned was realizing I’m not going to be like you. I’m sorry you wasted your life, I’m not going to. I’m going to be a good dad. I...just wanted to tell you that. That I'm in love still and I’m going to be a great father to my little girl. I’m going to keep her safe in this world. Goodbye, dad... We loved each other once.”
   Billy hung up. Curled into a ball to cry silently. Camille inched out until his head lifted. Arms came up to accept her there.
   “Shhh, I got you.” She tucked Billy’s head under her chin. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be an amazing daddy. I’m so lucky you’re mine. We’re going to be okay.”
   “God, I’m supposed to be holding you.” He chuckled at himself and Camille beamed.
   “We’ve got each other.”
   Neil Hargrove died in his sleep late April of 1992. Alone in a cold bed.
** ** **
   Camille’s belly turned into a mini planet Billy couldn’t stop kissing. Dealt with some fiery stares when he made comments about her swelling breasts. It was true, tired all the same, she glowed. Billy fed her odd cravings. Made her feel as sexy as he could until she was climbing atop him. Riding him because she needed it now and bad. He liked that part.
   A million baby books later, Billy became an annoying infant factoid machine.
   "Did you know if-?"
   "Billy," Camille groaned into the couch, "I want Thai food again."
   "I swear to god, Camille, our kid is going to come out trying to order a pad see ew, extra spicy."
   "...Two orders please."
   Billy was weak. He ordered her three to last her.
   Elliott, now eleven years old, took to painting seashells and starfish along her belly when she was stuck on the couch. Billy’s excitement never stilled. Only illuminated. So willing to learn this all. They cleared spaced. Decorated a little nursery all under the sea themed. Camille was more riddled with anxiety. Always steadying her breath. Talking to the little life inside her. Constant gifts and advice from friends helped from time to time.
   “Billy!” Elliott jumped up when he came home. “Think I could work in movies like you?”
   Camille was giggling. Hard. Her shirt pulled over her stomach painted with the shark from Jaws.
   “Guess what we watched?”
   “It wasn’t even scary.” Elliott crossed his arms, ruffling waves of brunette hair. “That was kid stuff.”
   “Think so,” Billy swept him up, growling for effect. Baring teeth like a shark. Earned a giggle.
   “She cried again at a TV commercial.” Elliott whispered and Billy snickered.
   “I'm allowed to have emotions, you two. Roger is going to be here any minute.” Camille pushed up. “Who wants ice cream?”
   “Mint chip?” Elliott followed after her.
   “You know it, kid.” She braced one hand on her back and the other around his shoulders. Billy shook his head and dropped a bag on his desk. Water ran as Camille washed her belly off and Elliott pulled out a pint of ice cream with two spoons. “Your big brother doesn’t have our sophisticated taste in ice cream.”
   They shared a few bites over the counter. Camille groaned a little and pressed a spot on her stomach.
   “You’re doing that a lot, sissy.” The affectionate name he’d picked up when he was little never left. Camille felt a cramp well like a great wave.
   “Just my girl dancing around. Picking fights with my organs. She’s definitely going to be like her daddy. Want to feel?”
   Elliott smiled his toothiest grin and reached out. Let Camille press his hand to her side.
   “Spicy food and mint ice cream is all I want these days.”
   “My mom said she liked mac and cheese with tomatoes with me.” He gasped, feeling the baby. “She high-fived me!”
   “Billy kissed my stomach once and got a swift kick.” Camille snickered, scooping more ice cream to enjoy. Billy paced in, pecking her cheek before he stole a spoon and the strawberry pint in the freezer.
   “All mine.” He shrugged, eating. Camille hunched, moaning a few minutes later. “Camille, you sure you’re okay?”
   “It’s just minor...cramps. I’m fine. She’s not coming out for another two weeks.” Camille licked her spoon.
   “She’s been doing it all day. Like this...Oohh...” Elliott mirror a motion with his hand on his back and the other on his stomach. Billy raised his brow.
   “They’re far, far apart.” Camille turned to the ice cream and felt a pop. A gush of fluid like she’d peed herself. Billy’s spoon clattered.
   “Sissy?” Elliott took her hand because he was closest. “Cami, what’s happening?” Billy was at his wife’s side, holding her.
   “Her water broke.”
** ** **
   A million phone calls later and Camille was whimpering, pacing around a bed. Wobbling side to side. Bracing her hands to groan. She decided on a birthing center and midwife over a hospital. Place looked more like a hotel and had a hot tub for those births. Cozy space all for them.
   Billy held a lot of jokes back.
   “The baby book’s-”
   “Fuck the baby books!” Camille’s red face lifted. A demonic edge to her voice and even Billy backed up. “Photographic memory is worth shit!” He edged off. “Sorry, I’m...oh! I want drugs. I want my midwife! I want Thai food... It’s early!”
   “She’s on the way now. Jim and Joyce were on a plane an hour ago. Max is driving El here. Just breathe.”
   “Fuck my breathing!” She sounded truly possessed. Grabbing at Billy over the bed with some crazy burst of pregnancy strength. “I want drugs… What if she comes out hurt because it’s early. Or like me?”
   “She’s fine. Hey...” Billy pried her hand from his shirt and crossed around. “She’s going to be perfect.” He held her. Placed a kiss into hair. Camille’s face was blushed and beading with sweat. Limbs shook as she braced into the bed.
   “Camille!” A woman who could have bench pressed Billy hurried in. “Oh, poor girl. Keep breathing like I taught you.”
   “Ellen.” Camille winced. The girls were on a first name basis. Ellen was a former body builder and wrestler turned midwife. Lost some kids of her own and swore to help other girls keep their babies. “I can’t. I can’t.”
   “Might want to go get some ice chips, Bill.” She turned to him looking frantic and reeling it in. “Two cups.”
   “For her?”
   “For both of you. You’re in for a long night.”
   Billy scrambled. Passed the waiting room where Roger and Elliot sat for Grace and the rest of the family to arrive after driving the crying girl in.
   Hours of groaning and wailing. Women in other rooms joined in like a chorus of cries and soft birthing songs. Billy joked they were calling out to each other. Solidarity for the pain women were created to endure.
   “Camille, honey, you have to get up like this. Just like we practiced.”
   “I can’t,” she only moaned, shaking her head back and forth.
   “Daddy, she needs you. We’re almost there, I’ll be back in with assistance. She has to get into position.” Ellen continued, lighting a fire under Billy while he paced. The midwife jogged out into the hallway where more women vocalized together. Called out to ensure none felt alone in this.
   “Something’s wrong, she’s gonna come out like me.” The girl sounded delirious. Billy cupped Camille face, watched her eyes dart over his welling expression. “She’s gonna tear a part of me out and I can’t stop her.”
   “I want her to be like you.” Billy admitted.
   “Don’t say that.” A hand pulled for his shirt. Camille twitched with anger at him. “Don’t say that again!”
   “No, I hope she’s exactly like you and she’ll have parents who love her. We’ll teach her never to force a smile. That perfection is bullshit. I hope she’s like you, I have this entire time.”
   “The world’s going to swallow her.”
   “We won’t let that happen.” Billy smiled because he was so certain about that.
   “She’ll be in pain.”
   “And we’ll see her through that too. Pain happens. Means we're here sometimes. Means we're strong enough to fight through it and she won't be alone. You gotta get up, she needs you.”
   “Camille!” Another voice at the door.
   “Dad. Jim, you’re here.” She wheezed when Jim came to her with Joyce’s hand in his. Sprinkles of grey in his hair. Joyce pulled her brown locks back into a ponytail.
   “Hey, sweetheart, we’re all here for you.” She came around the bed. “Max and El want to come in, we got them to stay with the others. Just breathe, you’re almost there.”
   “How’re you holding up, punk?” Jim clapped Billy on the shoulder, earning a chuckle.
   “Just barely, Hops. Lots of ice chips.”
   “I swear by those, you might want more.”
   “She’s crushing my hand.” Billy lifted his near white palm. Camille’s digging fingers into his skin.
   “He did this to me,” Camille hissed. Another bout. Another groan that tore the room. Ellen was back at her side.
   “Camille, come up now, that’s my girl.”
   A growl ripped violently.
   Like a werewolf mid transformation.
   Camille huffed and got to her hands and knees. Thought to rip her flesh away and reveal fur and muscle hiding underneath. Teeth growing and sharp to stark points while her veins darkened.
   She could have torn through a forest. Howled at the moon. One last time.
   It glowed bright before her. Speckled with stars.
   She counted them to herself.
   “Hold on, here.” Ellen guided stirrups higher so she could grip them. Had her squatting on the bed. “Breathe.” The thin cotton of the gown was damp. Hanging from one shoulder. She growled and tore it open down the front. Veins pulsing and pushing. No drugs. Just a body built for agony. Miles of it. Nude and feral.
   Camille screamed at the moon this time. For gawking. Grabbed at Billy again while he helped brace her into position.
   She howled and other women howled back. A great echo into the unknown. Into the dark night. Wolves in a pack itching to run through wind and rustling trees. Feral bodies that were so often controlled by weaker beings. Free and shameless.
   Women were not always soft, they were hard edges of steel slicing skin to pieces. Teeth gnashing muscle and bone apart. Hot irons of a beating heart within a hollowed chest cavity. Camille led a brigade with her.
   “Big push now!” Came the command.
   Camille tossed her head back and roared. Succumbed to the flames and blood lust. Thought her bones would break and shift so she could become the beast. Bring the world to its knees.
   Ellen reached down, head lifting.
   “Camille, it’s time. Another big push for me.”
   Camille only braced herself. Bones chattering. Words echoed with encouragement from her family. From Billy as he held onto her. Ellen repeated herself from the right.
   “Ahhh!” Vocal cords vibrated and almost ripped apart. Teeth baring. A gasp when it reeled back. Sweat and blood dribbled down Camille’s quivering thighs.
   “Almost, sweetheart, almost. Keep pushing for us.”
   “I can’t, I can’t.” Came the chants. Jim thought to step forward as he watched her spine press out into skin, but Billy sprang into action.
   “You can do this.” He kissed her temple. “You can.”
   “I’m not ready, I can’t.” Camille cried so hard. Looked out at the sky.
   It was all blue.
   “Camille,” Billy murmured into her hair, “I love you. You can do this.”
   The stars glowed brighter beyond the window. She longed to reach out and catch one.
   “They’re singing to me.” She whispered more so to herself. Lips opening to howl and sing with them. The women echoing her calls. The stars waiting beyond the veil.
   She waited for fur to ripple her skin. For claws to grow long and sharp.
   “That’s it, Camille, push!” Ellen took one hand, guided it down to feel something warm and wet. Camille screamed and they helped her stay upright when something stronger and more youthful than her tore from a body built of steel and stardust. “Take your baby. She’s here. Cradle the head.”
   Camille was sobbing as she pulled a tiny mass to her bare chest. A fallen star she managed to grasp. It echoed her screams. More powerful and beet red. Slicked with blood and fluids.
   Unable to stay upright, she was guided back with Ellen and Billy’s help. Looked almost wild in the starlight. Bloodied and nude with her cub cradled close.
   The baby wailed over Camille until she quieted in a daze. It overcame her with so much ease. Felt like she was slipping into a warm bath. Endless pools. Unbothered by her nudity there in the wash of moon.
   “Look at her,” Billy gasped through tears. Kissed Camille’s cheek again. “I’m so proud of you, you did it. She’s beautiful.”
   She half expected him to say, my, my, what big eyes you have.
   “Congratulations, mommy and daddy.” Ellen was ushering her assistant around.
   Camille didn’t look down. Couldn’t. Not at this little pup that ripped from her. That howled with her at the moon. This beating heart she would nurture and teach to glow all neon and red. The baby felt its mother’s heart beating under her little head and made it her first lullaby. Camille felt for a moment, that she had no more life in her. No more fight to tear through the woods leading a pack of wailing women.
   “Let’s get her cleaned up.” Ellen pulled the whimpering infant away to tend to her. Camille sat sprawled there half naked with one leg hanging over the side. Her own fluids in a puddle beneath her. Warm and oddly comforting. Billy and the assistant worked to maneuver her into another mattress so the dirtied one could be rolled off.
   “Camille?” Billy cupped her face there against a plush pillow. Covered her body. “Hey.”
   “She’s just a little dazed.” Joyce was smoothing brown hair back. Hopper’s hand on her shoulder. “You did so good, honey.”
   Ellen pushed a peach bundle back into Camille’s arms without asking. Helped her cradle the head as she propped herself up into the pillows. Hazel eyes lowered to see her daughter at last.
   Bright, crystalline eyes. A full head of dark hair already. Blinking and still at her mother. Billy leaned into Camille’s shoulder with a tired grin. Fingers grazed his baby’s cheek. Lips lowered to feel the tufts of hair, to inhale the scent of new life. The urge to cry overshadowed her smile.
   “Sara Anne Hargrove, welcome to the world.” Billy said. “Halloween birthday, I’m jealous.” Glowing with vitality Camille didn’t feel as he spoke.
   She heard the other women crying out and mourned that she no longer had the strength to roar with them.
** ** **
   “She’s so tiny.” El glittered, cradling the baby with Jim’s help.
   “She makes that same squinty face Billy does, look.” Max joked. Both girls as tall as Camille. So grown up and out into this big world. Jim crossed to see Camille when Billy went into the hallway to sign some papers.
   “You okay, kid?” He tucked a strand of hair away. She stared beyond him at the moon.
   “I never asked you if it was okay. Her name.”
   “I think it’s perfect.” Jim smiled and Camille pressed her lips at him. “Joyce and I will stick around if that’s okay. Help you get situated.”
   “We’d appreciate that. Grace and Roger live a ways out.” Camille blinked, head back to see everyone fawning over the baby across the way.
   “You okay?” Jim felt a great distance pool within his kid.
   “I’m...” Blue. “A mother.”
** ** **
   Sara wouldn’t latch.
   It took extra help to get her to at the birthing center and Joyce assisted at home.
   “Give her a second.” Billy tried to help. Tried.
   “You want to do this?” Camille’s eyes snapped at him. He put his hands up in response.
   “I’ll start dinner.” He slunk away into the kitchen where Jim was. Max and El left because they had class the next day. Grace promised to come up as much as she could after kissing Billy a million times. Phone calls and cards poured.
   “Ah...” Camille wiggled in her seat. Perched on an extra pillow because everything below her waist was raw and padded. Her stomach went down slowly while her breasts ballooned. Sara suckled in her arms and Joyce only offered encouragement. “It hurts.”
   “They never tell you that in the books.” Joyce sighed. “Jonathan gave me all sorts of trouble too. You’ll get the hang of it.” Camille winced and settled her head back against the couch. Felt like she was just waiting for it to be over. Everyone gushed about this amazing connection they would share and here she was just floating.
   Maybe that was just something else to get the hang of.
** ** **
   Camille started to have dreams. Maternity leave only made her restless. She cried when Billy packed her files away into the closet. He’d gotten the first month to stay with her while she’d gotten three.
   And she wanted to go back.
   Billy didn’t dare ask why the urge to see these kids over her daughter quelled.
   So, Camille dreamed a lot on rare nights she got sleep.
   Barely ate.
   A white room with white sheets in a white bed. Camille in all white too. Doctors fussing as she bloodied the room with her mess. Her womanhood that was supposed to be kept in check. Sara crying. Screaming. Echoing.
   One doctor pulling his mask down. Smiling wider than a circus clown. Brenner.
   Camille tore up and screamed too until Billy started to shake her awake.
   Only one week in and she’s unraveling with dark circles and a broken in body.
   “Camille!” Billy just held her until she stopped.
   “No, no, I have to check on her.” She ripped away from him. Scrambled into the other room to hover over the crib. Sara sleeping soundly and undisturbed. A sigh.
   “Camille, come out, you’ll wake her.” Billy rubbed his eyes. She ignored him, felt around the window for a latch.
   “You left it unlocked.”
   “What?”
   “I told you to lock it last night.” Camille’s neck twisted with a heated expression. Eyes glinting like an animal.
   “She took awhile to sleep, I forgot,” he paused, “I’m sorry.”
   “They could come in and take her. In the dark. Just like that.” She seethed in a struggle to keep her voice low. Billy gently pulled her from the room and shut the door.
   “I’ll remember next time. Nothing can climb to the window.” He rubbed her shoulders. Only got pushed away as Camille checked the door. “Camille? Who...”
   “Brenner!” She burst and covered her mouth. “If she’s like me, they’ll come take her in the night. In the dark. They’ll take her away and make her a number. You'll die and I'll be rocking in some hospital.”
   “Brenner is dead. That won’t happen.” Billy realized her fears. Saw her eyes glimmer there. “That lab is dead, no one will come for her. She’s safe with us.” He sat her on the couch. Watched her quiver and hold herself. Head dropping. The baby monitor in their bedroom echoed a wheezy sound. “Come get back in bed, I got this one. You had her yesterday.” Billy sighed and tucked Camille in. Left.
   “Hey, you...some set of lungs you got.” Billy’s voice spoke through the haze of static. “There you go. I mastered the art of the diaper, I think I-no, no, don’t pee on, daddy. You weren’t done.”
   A giggle.
   “Yeah, I’m your daddy, Sara. Bet you have some freckles coming in. My mom says I had mine young too.”
   Camille pictured her husband at total peace. Seated in the rocking chair wagging his finger and smiling at their baby. Soothing her. It made her weep silently until she shoved a fistful of blankets into her mouth. Billy took to this life a duck to water.
   And she…
   She just fizzled and sunk. Dreamed of Brenner coming and Sara being torn away. Never knew what to say. What to do. Billy seemed to have it figured and that just made her feel behind and confused.
   “You are my sunshine...my only sunshine...” Billy sang and Camille covered her face. Blocked her ears because it was too much. He returned ten minutes later to hold her. Kissed her hair and uttered the sweetest I love you because he felt so fulfilled and lucky.
   Camille pretended to be asleep.
** ** **
   Breastfeeding hurt still.
   Second week. Camille never slept. Put on her brave face for family visits. But they saw it in her eyes. She sang to Sara and chatted with her. Changed her to perfection. Kissed her head. But, the connection. The emotions welled up like they were blocked in her throat.
   Her body healed and only felt lifeless. Like she was a puppet controlled by another. Strings twisted all along her limbs to make her flop along a stage. Little clumsy ballerina. Going through the motions. She only cringed when the baby cried.
   Sara needed her.
   And it made her shrink.
   She was mommy. Warm arms and shelter. A knowledge base that would mold their baby.
   That suffocated. Billy smiled and cooed and Camille looked away. He just seemed so happy. She felt wrong.
   Why didn’t that come for her too?
   “Camille, look, look.” Billy was lying on the couch, lifting Sara up as she giggled to no end. Little limbs flailing. She bubbled a raspberry and he chuckled.
   Camille stood there in the kitchen doorway and averted her eyes.
   “Come sit with us.” He pushed up, nestling Sara into his lap.
   “I’m going to ask if I can go back early. To work. They need me.”
   “Uh,” Billy tread carefully, standing, “it hasn't even been a month. We’re still figuring this out. Take the time. You earned it.”
   “I can work part time.” Camille said it without any emotion. Not blinking. Staring at his feet while Sara wiggling there into his chest and played with blond curls.
   “I don’t want to make this choice for you, but I think it’s a bad idea. We haven’t even figured out our hours when we go back. Babysitters. Camille, don’t push it-...why won’t you even look at her?”
   Billy said that without even thinking. Camille’s eyes glinted at him.
   “What?”
   “It’s like you want nothing to do with us anymore.”
   “That’s not true.”
   “Well, look at her then. Hold her. We made her and she’s perfect.”
   “Billy.” Camille backed up. Touched her palms to her ears. Didn’t know how to not hear this. “Stop it. I’m fine… Stop saying that word.”
   “Huh?”
   “Perfect, she doesn’t have to be-”
   “You know what I mean.” He eased. Camille vibrated there. Paranoid. Manic. Lost. Went around him and slammed a door. Sara jilted. Started to cry as he bounced her. “Hey, no, you’re fine. Mommy’s just upset. She’s tired. She’s just tired.”
   Camille slid down the door. Cried there because she scared her little girl. She made her baby cry. She was a bad mother. These thoughts chanted until she was covering her ears again. Got into bed and curled into the tiniest ball she could.
   Something strange happened as she shook and wept there. Her fist beating into her shoulder. Punishing herself for being bad until sleep crept. A bad mommy. Bad. Bad. Bad. The skin purpled with a bruise that next morning. Camille felt Billy stirring behind her.
   They slept apart.
   “Hey, I gotta go pick up some stuff. I’ll grab groceries.” He kissed her head. “Might be a few hours.”
   “Okay.” Camille rasped, eyes on the wall. On the rain trickling outside.
   “Camille, last night, I-”
   A whimper on cue from the monitor.
   “I got her. She’s hungry.” A robe pulled over her nightgown. Over the bruise. She couldn’t look at Billy as she left. Plucking Sara up, she went out to the couch to feed her. Her husband appeared dressed and eyed her carefully.
   “I’ll be back soon.” Billy reassured her. Hesitated at the door before he lifted his eyes. “Love you.”
   “...Love you.” Camille said quieter. Let the TV drone. Billy locked the door and didn’t make it to his Camaro. Instead pushed coins into a payphone.
   “Yeah? Hello?” A tired voice answered from a hotel room.
   “Jim.” Billy swallowed. “Hey, I...”
   “You alright, Billy?”
   “It’s Camille. I don’t...” Billy paused. “I’m headed out to run some errands. Can you come over? Sit with her a bit. I left the key under the mat.”
   “Billy, is everything okay?”
   A pause. Billy didn’t know how to tell Jim what he saw. But, Camille always responded to Jim’s love. She needed it right now. Billy felt useless.
   “I don’t know.” See for yourself.
   He hung up and got into his car. Wiped his eyes before he pulled out.
** ** **
   “Come on, we can do this.” Camille groaned. One breast out to feed the baby. “Please.” Sara wiggled in protest. She looked up at her mother. Smiled.
   Camille shattered.
   “Don’t do that.” She quivered.
   Don’t look at me with undying trust and love.
   Don’t look at me like I'm all you got because I’m failing you.
   “I’m sorry.” Camille offered at last. Felt like she’d been holding that in since she saw the strip turn blue. “I’m sorry, I can’t...I’m a bad mommy and I’m so sorry.” Tears hit Sara’s cheeks and blanket. A baby blanket Grace knitted with the baby’s name in it. Pale lavender. Camille sobbed and held her. “I don’t know why I feel like this and I’m so sorry.”
   She couldn’t stop. The baby just cooed at her. Grabbed for long locks of brown hair.
   Don’t cry, mommy.
   That was how Jim found them.
   Camille drained of life and sobbing over the baby she felt she'd let down. Skin discolored and bruised. Clothing loose and crumpled. One of her breasts out. Hyperventilating. Vibrating. Sara still contented in her arms. Looking around in wonder.
   “Camille, sweetheart,” Jim crossed and she hitched to breathe. Offered the baby to him. Desperate.
   “Take her. Take her away from me. I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m not right. I can’t keep her safe from men in suits with red ties. I'll just hurt her too. I’m a bad mother. I’m not...I don’t feel...” Camille shook and Jim took the bundle. “I can’t look at her because I can’t do this. I’m awful. I’m a horrible mother. I’m sorry!”
   Skin paled and eyes huge, Camille crushed in on herself.
   Hands covered her face. Crossed legs lifting so she could curl up again there.
   “Camille...” Jim eased. Realized how unwell she’d been. Clearly not sleeping or eating in the short time they’d been home. “She’s okay, Camille. You’re doing okay.”
   “I’m not, I’m not. She’ll be like me and they’ll take her away. They’ll stage a car accident or fry our brains and she’ll be out there and all alone. I made her cry, I didn’t mean to.” She kept thinking about Rosemary and Noah brushing her aside. Lying to her. Keeping her in a cage.
   “That won’t happen, no matter what she becomes.” Jim faced her, cradling the tiny baby against him. “Deep breath.” He managed to fix her nightgown back up with a free hand. “Hey, look at her, it’s okay. She's safe.”
   Camille wiped her eyes and stared at the floor.
   “Has it been like this since you got home?” He frowned. “We...We didn’t-”
   “It just feels all wrong, Jim. I don’t understand.” That raw voice squeaked. He brought her against him with his arm. Holding Sara there too.
   “She’s healthy and beautiful. And she’s happy. You did that.” Jim offered. Camille’s fingers dug into his jacket. “You’re not well. I’ve seen this before with my own family. We’re going to get you some help, okay? You need help and that’s okay.”
   Camille only nodded. One shaken hand reached out to touch her daughter. Finger running the curve of her little chin.
   “When’s Billy getting home?”
   “Couple hours tops.” She sniffled.
   “I want you to go lie down.”
   “She hasn’t eaten.” Camille persisted, head lifting.
   “We’ll try again in a bit. I’m going to make you something to eat and I want you to just close your eyes. I’ll take care of the baby.” Jim stood, ushering her with him. “Get into bed.”
   “What about Billy?” Camille let Jim cover her. “He...He seemed...”
   “I’ll explain it to him. Just rest.” Jim settled Sara into her crib. Turned the mobile on. He made some plain toast and got Camille to sit up and each both pieces. Brushed crumbs off her face. Tucked her into a warm bed.
   Then, he called Joyce.
** ** **
   Billy came home with his arms full of bags. Stopped there at the scene. Joyce playing with Sara on the couch. Jim just walked out of the kitchen.
   “Where’s Camille?” He dropped the groceries aside. Jim put a slow hand on his shoulder.
   “I got her fed and to sleep. We managed to help her feed Sara after the first hour...” Jim sighed. “Billy, Camille’s...”
   “I don’t know what’s happening to her. She doesn’t want to be around Sara or I.”
   “What’s happening to Camille is common. Happens to mothers everywhere. She needs to go talk to someone about it.” Jim cocked his head and helped the new father put his items away while Joyce stayed on the couch. “Postpartum depression. You read about that?”
   “Some in the baby books. Not much.”
   “Camille is feeling very...”
   “Blue.” Billy’s eyes went distant. He sucked his cheeks in. Set his jaw to sigh. “I ignored it. I got mad at her for...”
   “It’s not either of your faults. It happens. Camille has to go talk to someone before she hurts herself. She needs support. It’ll be okay. I promise.” That somehow relaxed Billy. Jim always knew what to do. What to say.
   “I hope,” Billy began, “I can be a dad like you.”
   Hopper smiled at that. Beamed and hugged Billy to his chest. The new daddy paced to see his baby on the couch.
   “She behaving for you?”
   “That she is.” Joyce smiled. “We got her. Camille’s in the bedroom.”
   “Thanks.” Billy kissed Sara’s head and went in. Clicking the door open. Camille stirred. Head lifting when he got behind her. “Hey.”
   “Hi.” She stiffened up as he brought her to his chest. “Jim tell you?”
   “Yeah.” Billy’s chin settled upon her crown.
   “I’m sorry.”
   “Don’t apologize, we’ll get through it. You, Sara, and I. We’re a team. Little pack of wolves.” Billy kissed her head. Let her finally breath him in and cling as she turned to burrow into his chest. “You two are everything to me. Nothing else is as important as us.”
   “I love you. I love her. I do.”
   “I know you do. And we love you. We’ll get you help, Camille. It’s okay.” Billy cuddled her closer. Thought of Hopper. “I promise.”
** ** **
   Camille woke before Billy that next morning. Went to feed Sara. Jim and Joyce left after another long talk with Billy when Camille fell back asleep.
   “Okay, Sara, it’s just you and me. We can do this.” She adjusted and sat in the rocking chair. Cupped her breast to offer it. Pain stung a little but… “There we go. Good girl. Yes.”
   Camille felt herself smile this morning. Billy made an appoint for her. She would be taking the full maternity leave.
   Sara wiggled and burped up as Camille bounced her. Hummed Billy’s song to her and flicked the mobile around. Her husband hadn’t emerged yet so she went into the kitchen. Made a turkey and cheese sandwich. Sliced it diagonally and fell into the couch to watch some TV. Billy stumbled in and stood there with bed head. Beautiful beyond belief.
   “Morning.”
   “Morning.” Camille took half the sandwich and offered the plate to him. Billy brightened. Sat next to her. They shared the food in silence. Watched TV until she got under his arm. Rain padded against the windows. Sounded peaceful. “Do you think she’ll like surfing or ballet?”
   Eyes flickered over his wife as she engaged herself at last. With ease.
   “I think she’ll be into pro wrestling.” Billy smiled fuller. Camille let herself feel it, pushing at his chest before she laughed. Still a pretty sound. Inhaled the scent of him before he brought her hand up to kiss the tender skin of her wrist.
   “She’s gonna do whatever she wants to do, I think.” Camille said then, kissing up his jaw to find soft lips. “And we’ll be there to support her... We’ll always be there, won’t we?”
   “We will and that’s enough. I promise.” Billy tucked hair aside for a feverish kiss, nuzzled down into her neck to murmur. “You doing alright?”
   Camille saw his lashes flutter. Traced her fingers over the freckles and thought about how she couldn’t wait to see them bloom like fresh petals upon their daughter.
   “Today? Yeah. I think so. We’ve got each other.” She breathed, pressing lips into wild curls. They held each other while the rain fell lighter. Realized Billy was right. Echoed his call. “That’s enough.”
   Sara roused for her parents. Squirmed as Camille picked her up to bring her into the living room so they could gush and admire her. Neon hearts that glowed brighter by the hour. Her lullaby and sunrise all at once.
   “I love you both,” Billy nudged his head into Camille’s temple, “so much. You know that?”
   “You’re a magnificent father. We're lucky, Sara and I.” Camille’s lips pressed and the curves of her expression blurred. Billy blinked several times. A smile pressed. She let Sara giggle in her lap and held one finger with a strong, little hand. Babbling some until Camille was laughing to encourage it. “She’s all blush and tangerine today.” Not blue.
   “She’s beautiful,” Billy sighed there with so much contentment as Camille let herself relax. “And she’s just like her mother.”
   Hazel eyes lifted to see him. Amazed by this wonder of a life they created. A miracle. Like a specific star they’d plucked down to cherish and nurture.
   “She’ll be messy and also so kind. Good. Angry when she needs to be. She’ll cry and not be shamed for it. Our baby will be shown so much love, the world couldn’t hope to swallow her.” Camille smiled again. Softer by the hour as she gazed at Sara there. “The best parts of us. Our love. Into one gorgeous creature. She’s us, Billy.”
   That hit the new mother hard. Made her voice quiver.
   "She's us."
   Camille felt a glimmer of it then as she understood it all. That connection threading red cords around her heart. Casting out to anchor others so close. Billy saw it resonate and felt it too. Held them both on the sofa as they curled up like a family. Their own pack. Camille would teach Sara to howl at the moon and tear through forests. To endure and pull herself back to her feet at every stumble. To lead and love as hard as she could. Like she was meant to.
   Billy only glittered at her. Camille’s burst of vitality and hope. They had each other and they would get through whatever would follow the horizon.
   “And it’s enough,” he repeated in peace, “I promise.”
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fictivethots · 5 years
Text
Watched
a prompt from @astarisms from like way back in august that I’m finally posting to tumblr lmao
Pairing: Natan
Rating: M (nothing happens but its suggestive)
The new neighbor that had moved in next door was going to be the death of Lucifer. The house she had moved into had been empty for months before her, and Lucifer had grown used to the privacy. She had bounded up to his door at an ungodly hour the first day she had moved in, far too cheerful for 8 am, trying to introduce herself to all of the neighbors in her first day. Lucifer had barely managed to grunt out his own name and that he typically worked the night shift before shutting the door on her again. Thankfully, she had taken the hint that day, but in the month or so that had passed since, she had shown plenty of irritating habits. For one, he could hear her music all the way his own backyard, sugary sweet pop notes floating over and grating on his ears at all hours of the day and night. Lucifer used to enjoy sitting on the back porch with a beer during the summer, watching the fireflies come out for the night, but enjoys it distinctly less when he hears his neighbors radio come to life with the overproduced fluff that comes on. His head turns to look into her yard, eyes darting up to see if her could find the source of his irritation, and find it he does. He could see her- Natalie, he thinks is what she introduced herself as when she came to his door the other day- dancing on the balcony.
 The radio perched on the corner of the railing, he watched her spin around the balcony, hair flying around her face, the skirt of her dress twisting around her thighs. Lucifer swore that he could see a flash of red beneath her dress, and Lucifer shifts in his seat to get a better look. She had her arms up around her head, fingers twisting in her own hair, and Lucifer found himself wondering what it would feel like to twist his own fingers in it. He shifted again, and this time the plastic chair scraped against the wood of his porch. Lucifer winced at the noise and Natalie stopped mid-twirl, suddenly realizing she wasn’t alone. When she caught sight of him, and Lucifer let a slow smile creep over his face as he could see a blush start to spread over her face. There’s a beat where she’s frozen on the spot, then hurriedly turns off her radio and ducks back into her room. The balcony doors slammed shut behind her, and Lucifer felt almost disappointed to have startled her. Almost.  
It was a few days before he caught the next sighting of the new neighbor, this time from his kitchen. He had wandered in for a cup of coffee before his shift, not bothering to turn on the lights, when he noticed that Natalie in her own home. She was standing at her own kitchen counter, thumbing at something on her phone, an empty glass of wine next to her. Her hair was piled on her head, an intricate braid held in place with a large clip, the jeans she wore clung to her hips and thighs, and Lucifer thought he could see a pop of bright pink crossing with the straps of her black tank top. She shifted position, leaning over the counter now, one hip popping up, and Lucifer admired the the curve of her back. He wondered what he skin would look like under her tank top, and he imagined seeing the pale white skin of her shoulders glowing against his bedsheets. Maybe there would be freckles across her chest, faint but still there, the delicate pink flush that would color her skin as he hovered over her. His eyes traced down lower, following the curve of her ass as she shifted position again, and he wondered what those legs would feel like wrapped around his hips. Her feet, digging softly but insistently into his lower back, leading him closer to her on his bed. His fingers would drift down to her stomach, trailing down slowly until he could slip a finger inside of her and then-
Her kitchen light abruptly clicked off, and Lucifer sucked in a breath, taken out of his thoughts as suddenly as they had come on. Lucifer was left standing in his empty home, the last thoughts of Natalie being pushed out of his head in favor of the worry over being caught.
Lucifer didn’t see Natalie at all over the next week and a half. He tried to chalk it up as two neighbors being on completely different schedules, and not that Natalie was trying to avoid her creepy neighbor that spied on her. He sometimes went weeks without seeing the couple that lived across the street, and with his night shift schedule, it was easy to go even longer between actually seeing the people who lived around him. Still, it made him uneasy to think the reason he hadn’t seen her was by her own design, though he couldn’t exactly blame her if it was. The best thing for Lucifer would be to try and move on from it, and had been trying to clear his head of his fantasies for the past week. Hard labor had always worked in his favor, and the backyard grass had been neglected for far too long. The sun hung low in the sky, the yellow light turning orange when Lucifer set to work on finally mowing down the grass. It was still hot despite it being nearly twilight, and Lucifer hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, only pulling on a pair of well worn jeans and putting in his headphones before getting started. Lucifer pushed the ancient mower up and down the grass, sweat forming between his shoulders and down his back. Small pieces of grass flew up around him, and the fresh cut grass clung to his jeans as he moved across the yard. There was an uncomfortable itch over Lucifer’s skin, and the cord of his headphones brushing across his bare stomach was more irritating to him than it usually was. He felt unusually exposed; already without a shirt, and it seemed that his jeans refused to stay on his hips where he had pulled them on. It wasn’t until he had finished the backyard and taken out his headphones that he could hear the same sugary pop music playing; and he spun around towards the source of the sound. He heard a laugh, low and clear and carried over by the wind, and his eyes snapped up to the bedroom balcony. Natalie was standing there, barely there shorts and a sports bra, hair falling down around her shoulders as she leaned against the railing. She was smiling down at Lucifer, and he swore that he saw the barest flick of her tongue on her lips as she grinned down at him.
‘You know, my yard could really use a good once over, maybe you wouldn’t mind bringing that tool over here for me?” She asked, her voice carried over through the clear night, and the innuendo was heavy in the air. For the first time in his life, Lucifer was speechless, and Natalie let the request hang between them a moment more before pushed herself off the railing and turned to the open doors of the balcony. She turned just before she went back inside, throwing a wink over her shoulder at him, and Lucifer swallowed hard as her doors clicked closed behind her, with only the pop music taunting him.
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Text
5 Star Meal
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REQUESTED: Hello my love! I'm so glad you enjoy my writing so I hope you'll enjoy this too! It's a bit of fluff and bit of steam. There's just a lot going on.
He just wanted a normal date. A normal date with his normal girlfriend being a normal boyfriend. He loved being J-Hope but some days he just wanted to be Jung Hoseok. That's why he jumped at the chance to visit your hometown. Jumped at the chance to be Hoseok for a week or two with you by his side.
Fluff/Established Relationship (Tiny bit of steamy)
A normal date. That's all he wanted. He didn't want to have to pick somewhere based on the privacy of it, he didn't want to have to pick a time late at night or early in the morning to minimise the chances of being recognised, he didn't want to have his managers following him around like the world's weirdest chaperones. He just wanted to take you out on a date like a normal member of the human race. Fans didn't bug him, he didn't dislike meeting them outside of planned events, but he didn't want his whole life planned around avoiding them when he just wanted to be Jung Hoseok for a few hours. Not J-Hope. Just Hoseok. So when the day came that you offered him a trip to your hometown during his break he snapped it up.
You told him it would be boring. You told him your hometown was small, that there wasn't much to do there and you would just be hanging around your parents house or the small suburbs for most of it. But that just made him smile wider, tugging you close as he pressed kisses against every inch of your face and made you promise to show him all your primary school hideaways, your High school haunts, your favourite restaurants and all the snacks you couldn't get anywhere else. You wriggled in his grip squirming and laughing as he swung your around, eyes alight and lips stretched into a wide grin. The opportunity to be normal, to be just your boyfriend in your hometown, sleeping in your childhood bedroom, wandering around isolated streets with no fear of being seen as J-Hope. Just being himself for the few weeks away with you by his side.
Of course he jumped at that chance.
The first few days were filled with jet lagged naps and dinner with your parents. Hoseok helping your Dad garden or your Mum cook. You watching on with soft eyes as he made himself at home, made it seem like he had been there forever, known you forever. You leaned on door frames watching him wash the dishes after a meal, sat on the back porch and watched him make your Dad laugh with bad jokes as they both planted sunflowers into a fresh patch of soil. You curled up with him at night underneath your childish pink sheets, under the watchful eyes of old band posters and macaroni framed pictures of long lost friends and thought about how lucky you where to have him. How you managed to fall more in love with him as the days passed by. His arms around your waist and lips pressed to the nape of your neck as your night light illuminated stars above you.
But then you broke your headphones and a trip to the shops was in order. He was practically bouncing in the passenger's seat as you drove your mum's car down to the local shops, AUX cord plugged in to his phone as he danced in his seat, making you laugh and slap his thigh for distracting the driver. It took you a total of five minutes to get what you needed but then Hoseok got excited and dragged you into every clothing outlet he could see. Trying on jeans and shoes, buying coats and bags as you rolled your eyes and followed him around with plastic bags of goodies adorning your arms. You were almost thankful when he said he was starving.
The food court was small. A few tables and booths scattered around and surrounded by small venders selling practically the same thing for different prices. You sent him off to pick up whatever he fancied as you found a secluded booth next door to a seriously struggling Kebab shop. He returned with a tray piled high with seafood stir fry, pineapple fried rice, two warm pretzels and a large plastic cup filled to the brim with watered down sprite and two straws. He slid in beside you, grinning as he started to pick at his meal, handing you a fork as he picked up a pair of disposable wooden chopsticks, snapping them in half to fill his cheeks with rice.
“I feel like I'm back in high school”
You sighed as you twirled thick noodles around your fork, looking around at the slow stream of people wandering around, dragging along their significant others from store to store. Hand in hand, spending money they didn't have on things they didn't need. Hoseok smiled, taking a sip of his drink as he nudged your side.
“Oh, and why is that then?”
You stuffed your fork between you lips, chewing into one side of your cheeks.
“This is the kind of dates my friends use to go on. Going from store to store. Counting their pocket money to see if they could afford that top and a soft pretzel. Getting dropped off by their parents and picked up before it got dark. I always wanted to do that. It's seemed so...I don't know...normal I guess? Like something you see on TV that never happens to you so you end up feeling like you're not doing your childhood right. Like TV is a manual for what's normal”
He hummed, pressing a kiss against your cheek and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in close.
“It's nice being normal. I like being normal with you. Now let's have our normal date and eat our normal pretzels and I'll ring your mum to come pick us up before six”
You smiled, returning the kiss against his dimpled cheeks before pushing him away so you could both get back to eating before the food went cold. He ate with gusto, handing you mouthfuls of this or that, leaving Eskimo kisses against your nose when the tips brushed together as you each took a sip from your shared drink. You felt like you had eaten too much and nothing at all at the same time. Mind wandering back over to the man beside you as he relaxed completely for the first time out in public with you. No eyes darting, no leg bouncing. No fear of being an idol here, just the comfort of being your normal boyfriend on a normal date.
But it wasn't just you mind that wandered. Your eyes seemed to wander as well, moving from his eyes to his cheeks and down to his lips, shinny with the oils of the food, wrapping around each morsel with an appreciative hum. An enticing pink steam, as bare as his skin with that little freckle on full display. He lifted a prawn from the dwindling pile of noodles, shell covered tail pinched between delicate fingers as he lifted the plump body to his lips, tongue sliding out to gather it between his teeth and suck it into his mouth as his eyes wandered around, scanning shops he hadn't been in yet, picking where to go next once the meal had settled. He bit the tail off, lips puckered as he let the shell slip free, discarding it on the side of his plate as he chewed his mouthful with a happy nod. You shifted in your seat, eyes dating away as he turned to you, pretending to move around stray rice grains with your fork.
You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, scanning your facial expression and slowly piecing together the clues before leaning over with those same lips, now grinning, to brush them against the curled shell of your ear.
“If you don't stop looking at my lips without doing anything about it, I will take you right here on this counter”
Your eyes widened, throat dry as you quickly took a sip of the slowly emptying drink. A flush filling your cheeks as an older couple walked passed you both, smiling down at the scene of young love as you tried your best not to squirm from the way your stomach dropped into your lap. You tried to brush it off, picking up a napkin to press against the oil clinging to his lips, brushing it away before stretching the thin paper over the seam of his lips and kissing him through it as he pouted and battered your hands away.
“You're a tease you know that?”
You rolled your eyes. Jabbing your index finger into his chest as he huffed.
“Hey, I'm not that one whispering all kinds of inappropriate things into people's ears”
His pout turned into a smirk, long fingers trailing up to rest against your thigh as cleaned lips pressed against the line of your jaw, nose nuzzling into the soft skin there, hot breath against you neck making a shiver run up and down your spine.
“True. Maybe we should head home. It's almost sundown. I don't want your parents thinking I'm taking advantage of their innocent daughter”
He slipped away leaving you cold as he cleared the table and picked up the shopping bags, holding the crook of his elbow out to you as you looped your own arm through, making your way back to the parking lot.
“It's a bit late for that. The walls are pretty thin in that old house”
You almost tripped over your own feet laughing as his wide eyes turned to you, ears blushing red as you pulled his frozen body forward and unlocked the car with a soft beep.
Fairs fair. Now you where even.
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thesarcasticside · 3 years
Text
Anything-$00000DE5
NAME Dorian ID 1 9 16 7 ALIENRACE Rhodorium OCCUPATION Doctor
Chapter Warnings Swearing, innuendo, knife mention, gross food mention Chapter Characters Janus, Remus
AO3 Chapter 1 Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Dee was in deadshit middle of nowhere getting his ass whooped by a bunch of cocky punks.
Which was exactly what Remus had told his brother later while twirling his fingers in the cord of his older than dirt phone.
These trashy bandits (or whatever their nefarious occupation was) had been loitering around the shop like a bunch of girl scouts leaning against a grocery store selling cookies. Remus was not sad to see them go, scared off like a bunch of rats.
Remus couldn’t help watching this badass loner guy punch the shit out of those losers like he was decking the halls from atop his watchtower. Not much of a watchtower, more like an endgame Janga Tower made of trash and dog shit, but a tall enough structure to poke some binoculars through.
Pushing the lens through an opening, Remus watched as this JD looking guy got his face torn off by those nobodies. And then he saw his eye glow yellow like an LED on 10 volts and annihilate those posers with a plasma blast; Remus almost shouted “booyah” to Mr. Cyborg Man.
Welp, time to open up shop, Remus supposed, sliding down a pole that ran down his watchtower like a firefighter who was, you know, also a stripper.
Remus bounced around through his junkyard, racing the small distance to the entrance like he was jogging through an obstacle course. The dry dirt was flung into the air as his boots thromped onto the ground. Metal and plastic ricocheted against one another as he kicked spare parts aside. He knocked over a pile of junk, which sounded like a bunch of kindergarteners in a marching band on its way down.
Remus skidded to a halt, chest to chest to this cool loner guy, having overshot his stopping point. Flailing mechanical limbs behind his back, Remus teetered backwards before finding his balance again. The guy bounced back, taking a step backwards. His yellow eye twinkled for a second before he changed his mind.
The man swept dust off his dark brown suit and black capelet, squinting what was left of his nose. Artificial skin on half of his face was torn off, a menagerie of metals. The grooves and lines were scale-like, with bits of patinaed copper here and there.
His cheek ‘bones’ looked as sharp as a knife, which made sense because they were, you know, made of metal and could probably be considered a knife. Face knifes. How cool was that? Remus smiled at him in that unsettling way he specializes in.
They stared at each other for a bit too long; the cyborg looked at Remus, disgusted and appalled at his trash boy apparel.
“Howdy partner,” Remus said unironically, like he was born in a bona fide space western, “what brings you to these parts?”
“Oh, just in the area ‘is all” Mystery man said, you know, like a liar.
Remus was amused by the deliberate, calculated way the guy carried himself. Fancy, he thought, but dragged it out in his head with an obnoxious accent.
“You must be Remus.” The man said, skeptical, looking across at the junkyard.
“Yup. Need your face fixed up?”
“Um, no thanks. I have something else I would like for you to do for me.”
Remus smiled, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “What might that be?”
The man’s eyes rolled like a man after getting pushed down a hill. “I am here to pick up a commission for Dramatica Watt,” which was a really stupid fake name.
Remus blinked, scrunching his face in thought, lips puckering, “Ah!” he said, pointing a finger to the sky. “That one.” Remus frowned. “What a shame, those raw materials are pretty wild. Wonder what Ms. Watt is making with them”
“Nothing good, I am afraid.”
Remus let out a very contemplative “hmm” and turned on his heel towards his junkyard-front-yard. “If it ends up exploding on ‘em, be sure to get it on video. Follow me.”
Traversing the yard and entering his workshop, Remus led Dee to a white room, which looked like it was copy-pasted right out of a medical drama. The blank bright walls, clean floors, and clear surfaces of the room were a shocking contrast to the rest of Remus’ hovel.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, it looks squeaky clean. Pretty disappointing. The room makes me think of my brother sometimes.” Remus laughed a bit, “Not like, he disappointed the parents, ruined the family legacy or anything. That was my doing. He’s just a goodie-two-shoes who thinks white is some cool futuristic aesthetic thing.”
Remus grinned at Dee, whose stern, unamused frown had turned into something more curious. Remus danced as he walked, but Dee walked as if he had memorized the manual on walking.
“I’m no idiot when it comes to medical procedures and shit. Infections are no joke, so I keep it clean in here.”
Remus moved backwards, like a tour guide, as he decided to show off his house—he did not get many visitors.
Passing through the white room and opening a steel door, Remus bent down to search through a large storage closet, creating quite a racket, before emerging with a big, beaten up box. The box was reused. The graphics on the sides looked to have been for something quite questionable looking.
Looking above the large box of L'aundrifoil, Remus looked at the guy again. “So, I know the money is going to be transferred to me, but I need confirmation that you’re the one supposed to be picking this up.” Dee showed the purchase order to Remus, and Remus nodded his head.
“Great, so, uh, you must be exhausted a bit after travelling over here and fighting off those punks. Do you want to chill for a moment? I got snacks.”
“No,” he said, and yet Dee found himself sitting on a bar stool, leaning against a kitchen counter, watching the alien bounce from fridge to cabinet, scooping up snacks by the armful.
“Did you say your name? I can’t remember. I have been calling you Mr. Cyborg Protagonist in my head this whole time.”
“Don’t have one. Dramatica’s goons call me $DEE. It’s not really my name.” Really, the only goon that called him Dee was himself since nobody really called him anything.
“D… D-D,” Remus hummed, “Doesn’t really fit like, you don’t look like a letter.”
Remus dropped everything on the counter, some of the food bursting open and leaking.
“I grabbed the least disgusting shit I had in my kitchen. You don’t look to be of the kind with the refined taste of a bottom feeder like myself.”
On the cold laminate counter, Dee could pick out and read various snacks, including: Istavices, gloop-os, Staopies, and lays potato chips. He popped open the bag of chips and ignored the rest.
“Oh fuck!” Remus snapped, which made Dee jump in his seat, his jaw snapping shut mid potato chip. “I forgot about the livestream today!” Remus slid a smart device out of a pocket—which had been well-camouflaged inside the rest of the man’s eclectic outfit. “You okay with being on camera or nah?” Dee shook his head no, and Remus nodded.
Remus held up the device, the camera aiming at Remus and the rest of the kitchen, as if Janus was in the position of a live studio audience. Dee looked side to side, wondering, should I leave?
“Hey sludges, how’s it going? Might not have a ton of time today to stream, but I promised to show ya the thing-a-ma-bob I finished up yesterday.”
“In the background I got a guest today. He beat up a bunch of punks loitering in my yard. He’s got a cool laser eye.”
“Ah, yep, yah, he is totally a space protagonist. Doesn’t have a name… besides bae.” Remus laughed, looked away from the camera, and winked at him. He was flattered.
“Type in the chat for name ideas for my new space-cow-boy-friend.”
Dee had to leave, but, goodness, he did not want to. He burst into a fit of laughter for what felt like the first time in his life—
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baronessblixen · 7 years
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Would you be open to writing something with Mulder helping Scully with something wonderfully domestic long before they become involved? Like moving house, fixing the sink, paining the apartment...UST!
I absolutely loved this prompt - thank you so much, anon! I hope you like it. Set between Redux and Detour. 
Tagging @fictober and @today-in-fic
“Mulder, what are youdoing this weekend?" There is no reason to be nervous, Scully remindsherself as she presses the phone against her ear and winds the cord tightlyaround her finger. It’s just Mulder.
"Not much. Shoot somehoops, maybe. Why, do you have any tantalizing x-files lying around,Scully?" He chuckles at his own, really not so funny, joke. 
"No, I could just useyour… help. For something.” The cord bites into her skin leaving a redmark. Scully considers hanging up the phone and claiming she was high onpainkillers. 
“My help? Always,Scully. What do you need me to do?”
“Only if it’s not toomuch trouble.”
“Scully, come on. Whatis it?”
“I need to paint mybedroom and the doctor said I should refrain from strenuous activitiesso-”
“He’s right, Scully.You’re barely out of the hospital. I’ll gladly help you, but don’t you thinkit’s too soon?” Scully gnaws on her lip. That’s exactly what her mothersaid, too. If it were up to her, Scully would spend the next few weeks or evenmonths in a bed recuperating. Having ditched certain death, all Scully wants isto do things. Live. Because it’s the one thing she thought she’d never get todo again. She beat cancer. Clearly, she can paint her bedroom.
“I’m fine,Mulder.” He groans in frustration on the other end of the line. “Ireally am. I know I have to take it slowly and I’m doing that. I just need topaint that wall.” He is quiet for a moment, a tell-tale sign that he’sthinking. Scully imagines him licking his lips trying to come up with the rightwords. She is not ready to spill her secret just yet. The reason why the paintjob can’t wait.
“What time should Icome over?”
*
Saturday morning and thehardware store is crowded. Mulder listlessly pushes their cart along the broadaisles and she has to grab it a few times to prevent a collision with anothercart or person.
“You didn’t tell me westill had to buy the paint.” Mulder sounds like a moody child and Scullyis about to tell him to stop being such a baby when he abruptly comes to astandstill. It’s too late to stop herself from crashing into him.
“Mulder, what!”
“Scully, look atthis,” her eyes follow Mulder’s pointing finger, “what do youthink?" 
"It’s cut lumber,Mulder.” He nods, staring at the cut pieces and panels as if they wereextraterrestrial entities. Scully briefly wonders when Mulder has last steppedfoot in a hardware store. Or if he ever has.
“I could build you anew kitchen cabinet.” His voice is more excited about that prospect thanit should be.
“Nothing is wrong withmy kitchen cabinet, Mulder. I am very happy with my furniture. What we need ispaint.” She tugs at his sleeve and he starts moving again. As if she’dever let Mulder alone with a hammer and nails. They spend enough time in andout of hospitals as it is. 
They make it to the paintaisle without further disruption. Mulder stares at Scully, at the colors andback at her. 
“I think I shouldstick with white. What do you think, Mulder?" 
"You really don’t wantto ask me about colors.” Mulder’s finger traces a soft aquatic color andthen turns to her. There’s a soft, almost shy smile on his face. “Remindsme of your eyes. But uhm, that’s probably not the color you want in yourbedroom.” He clears his voice. Scully, touched yet slightly embarrassed,lets his comment slide and moves on to the whites. 
“Silver Feather or MoroccoSand.” She mumbles, examining the colors closely.
“Scully, it’s the samecolor. They’re both white!”
“No, they’re not.Look,” Scully is interrupted by another couple, matching grins andclothes, apparently hoping for some advice, “the Morocco Sand is a touchdarker.”
“Silver Feather worksgreat in bedrooms,” the woman tells them with a wink, “reflects themorning sunlight just beautifully.”
“I think I want MoroccoSand, Mulder.” Scully mumbles quickly and pushes Mulder to get the cans.The couple keeps moving to the reds and Scully takes a deep breath. 
“Are you sure, Scully?I think Silver Feather looks really nice.”
“You just said theylooked the same!”
“I was wrong. Let’sbuy Silver Feather." She doesn’t object.
*
Scully feels as if she’s ina movie. In one of Mulder’s videos that aren’t his. She watches as Mulder,shirtless and with low-riding jeans, moves the furniture in her bedroom. Moaningfrom the physical exertion. The play of his back muscles as he puts protectiveplastic on the ground is mesmerizing. 
"Should we getstarted?" He stands in front of the naked wall, hands on his hips.Scully nods, her mouth slightly open. Water. She needs a glass of water. Icecold. 
"Do you- are you thirsty,Mulder?”
“Oh yeah.” Hebasically groans. Scully walks into the kitchen, heat following her, and whenshe pours the glasses, Mulder is suddenly close behind. Scully almost lets goof the glass but quickly recovers and pushes it into his hands. Her fingersbrush against his hot, naked chest. Mulder gulps down the water and grins ather.
“Let’s get this painton the wall, Scully.”
It turns out Mulder puts asmuch energy into painting a wall as he does in everything else he considersimportant. She tried to help but Mulder makes her take a break every fiveminutes. ‘I’ve got this, Scully,’ he told her, 'sit down and relax. You canwatch and criticize.’ She tries to find fault in his brush strokes, but heseems to know what he’s doing. So instead Scully looks for her old radio, dustsit off, and soon soft music fills the room. Whenever a song comes on Mulderlikes, he starts whistling, badly. Then Elvis starts singing. Mulder lets go ofthe pain brush, turns to Scully who sits cross-legged on the plastic, halfreading a medical journal. Mulder offers her his hand.
“Dance with me.”
“What?” Shelaughs.
“Just one dance,Scully. Please. It’s Elvis!” She puts her hand in his, convinced. Smalldrops of paint are splattered on his arms and his chest. His still very nakedchest. Scully loses herself in the warmth of his skin, the feel of his muscles.Her thin cotton shirt is the only barrier between their chests, barely there atall. Her hands are on his back, skin touching skin. 
“Hmm, you gotta loveElvis.” Mulder croons into her ear, his hands on her back drawing smallcircles. She wishes she’d put on a bit more weight already. He must be able tofeel her ribs against his fingertips. Scully makes a mental note to have a biglunch, maybe something with fries. Mulder, she is certain, won’t need to beconvinced.
The melody picks up andMulder doesn’t miss a beat, twirls them around. He laughs at her and the soundis so infectious that she giggles, hides her face against his chest. Suddenlyhe dips her and Scully squeals. Her eyes, upside down, land on that spot on thewall. She one she wanted to forget. The one that started the whole thing. Themusic stops, Scully stands upright, tries not to let Mulder see her change inmood.
“Scully? Are you allright? Are you dizzy? I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.”
“No, Mulder. That’snot…” Scully stares at the wall again. The smallest imperfection in asea of white. 
“What is it?” Hisvoice is soft and she knows the exact moment he sees it. Mulder crouches down,the plastic rustling under him. He touches his finger to the spot, now a pale,distorted orange color. Scully hugs herself, feeling cold. 
“What… what…”But Mulder doesn’t finish his sentence, whatever it is.
“One night,”Scully takes a deep breath, “one night my nosebleed was so bad. I didn’tsee anything. It was everywhere. I crashed into the wall, I think, trying toget to the bathroom. I didn’t see the blood on the wall until later and then itwas too late." 
"OhScully." 
"I didn’t want to lookat it anymore. Be reminded of it. I know it’s stupid but-”
“It’s not stupid. It’snot stupid at all.” Mulder picks up the paint brush and dips it into thecan. Then he hands it to Scully. Soft white droplets drip to the floor as hewaits for her to take it. Her hand is unreasonably shaky as she reaches for it.Mulder doesn’t let go and she eyes him, a questioning look on her face.
“Let’sstart a new chapter, huh?” He asks her. Scully nods and together theypaint over the blood, over the past until it shimmers silvery white and new.
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