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tonystarksfavoritedaughter · 3 years

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Crazy Rich Avengers

Chapter 1:

Summary: You and Peter have been dating for a little over 6 months and have not yet met the Avengers. You were getting curious as to when you would meet them, until you get an invitation from Tony Stark himself, inviting you and Peter to Wanda and Vision’s wedding in Hawaii over Spring Break. You thought that it would be nice to go and finally meet everyone, but what will you think after you’ve been tested by the team?

*Based on the movie Crazy Rich Asians, each chapter will be a different scene from the movie. There will be 15 chapters. Also includes a GIF from the movie scene at the beginning of each chapter.

A/N: I’ve had this series planned for a little while now, and I just got this chapter done and edited and I feel really good about it. I didn’t know if anyone would want to read this until I posted about it yesterday and got some really good feedback, so thank you all who liked it and asked to be on the taglist so much! This chapter is the first scene of the movie, just some things are switched up to fit Peter and the Avengers. Just note that this one is kind of short and nothing much really happens in this chapter since it is just the beginning, but hopefully the next one is a bit juicer.

Warnings: swearing and fluff

Word count: 2166

Chapter 1

“Okay class, make sure to email me those presentations by Monday. I don’t want to keep reminding you guys over Spring Break because I’ve still got a life outside being a professor.” The whole class laughs at your professor’s bluntness. It kind of reminds you of your friend from high school, who would always spoke her truth, even when no one asked for it. You packed your things and waited for a clear space to exit your row. Who knew so many kids would be in a business class? Not you apparently. You were a culinary student at the Institute of Culinary Education or ICE for short. Your dream was to become a baker and own your bakery, hence the business class. This was your last class of the day, and you couldn’t wait to see your boyfriend. You two had been dating for a little over six months and it was the best six months you could ever ask for.

You exited out of the classroom, finally, and made your way towards the elevator. On the way down, you looked through your messages and saw that you had five new texts from Peter.

Peter: Hey babe! I’m out of my photography class now. (1:15)

Peter: Waiting by the couches (1:15)

Peter: I miss you (1:17)

Peter: I’m hungry. Let’s go to that pizza place for lunch. I really want some of their cannoli’s (1:20)

Peter: Y/NNN!!! WHERE ARE YOU??? (1:23)

The elevator stopped at the lobby and you walked over to Peter, who sprang out of his seat and practically ran over to you. He hugged with the force of what you assumed felt like ten tons just based on how tight he held you. You laughed at his clinginess and pushed him off of you.

“Dude my class ran like ten minutes late. What’s the matter with you?” you laugh.

He held your hand in his own and smiles at you. “Just missed you is all. Did you see my text about the cannoli’s?”

“Yeah I saw it.”

“And?” he asks hopefully.

“Aaaaaand what?” you played dumb just to see his cute pouty face.

“Can we get cannoli’s?”

“Yes, we can get a cannoli.”

“Ah! You’re the best! Cannoli’s!” he yells at an insane volume for someone who’s just walking down the street. This earns you both a weird look from the people on the sidewalk. You were about to kiss his cheek until he just took off down the street with your hand still in his. You guessed you never knew he liked cannoli’s so much. Maybe you should try out a recipe and make him some one day.

You get into the pizza restaurant and sit down across from each other and waited for the waiter to take your order. You order your drinks; Peter gets Diet Pepsi and you get a Sprite. Both of you talk about how your classes went and held each other’s hand while you talked.

“So, I’ve got to do this project for my class,” Peter began, “And my camera is at the Compound, so tomorrow I’ll be a little late getting home.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Oh! Speaking of which,” you slam your palms on the table, which makes Peter jump a little. “When am I going to meet them? I mean we’ve been dating for going on seven months now, and I still haven’t met them. And I know they know about me because I got a message from Nat telling me happy birthday two weeks ago.” You raise an eyebrow at him waiting for his answer.

“Speaking of said topic, that reminds me. We got invited to Wanda and Vision’s wedding. And it is next Friday in Hawaii, which is perfect because a) we don’t have classes because it’s Spring Break, and b) I know Hawaii is one of your bucket list places.”

Your jawed dropped for several reasons. One, it’s Wanda and Vision’s fucking wedding! You never met them, but from the way Peter talked about them, you could tell they were meant to be. You always thought that they were like what you and Peter had times one hundred.

“Are you serious? They’re having their wedding in Hawaii?”

“Yeah. They thought that since Mr. Stark – “

“What can I get you two today?” the waiter asked breathless. You didn’t even realize how busy they were.

You looked up at him, “I’ll have a slice of the cheese pizza please?”

“And I’ll have two slices of the meat lovers. And can I get three of your best cannoli’s please?” Peter smiled at the waiter as he wrote down your order.

“Alright that’ll be right out.” He walked away almost jogging to get your order in. Goodness they were slammed.

“As I was saying,” Peter continued. “Mr. Stark has one of those beach houses in Maui and so, they thought that it would be the perfect place for them to tie the knot.”

“Wow, so, we’re invited? Like we’re going to Maui and attending the wedding? And meeting everyone?” you asked now slightly worried.

“Yeah,” he drags out confused. “That’s what kind of what ‘You’re Invited’ means.”

“I know, it’s just…this will be the first time I’m meeting them and I always imagined it would be at a like Sunday dinner type of thing. Not a fucking Avengers wedding!”

“It’s okay, I know they’re gonna love you no matter what.”

You take a sip of your drink, “This is also works out for another reason because MJ has been asking us to come see her ever since she moved to Kahului.”

“All the more reason to go.”

You both get your food and Peter immediately starts on the cannoli’s that he’s been longing to eat and practically moans at the taste of them. You get the check and pay and tipped extra for your waiter, because they need to be paid way more than minimum wage. The two of you walk out and head home so you can spend the rest of the night together.

“So, when do we leave for Maui?” you ask, swinging your intertwined hands between the two of you.

“Umm, I believe on Saturday.”

Today was Thursday so that means that you only had tonight and tomorrow to pack for a whole entire week. “Shit! I have almost no clothes washed, are you kidding me?” you yell. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I just found out this morning!” he yelled back.

“Okay, well it’s a good thing tomorrow I don’t have classes because now I have to do laundry all damn day.” You reach your shared apartment and go to change clothes and you go straight to the laundry room, faster than Peter could imagine. All of your good, cute clothes had to be air dried and so that’s what you did first. After half hour of folding, and drying, and hanging up clothes non-stop, Peter came in wrapped his arms around you.

“Baby, you’ve been here for forever, come sit down with me,” he pleaded.

“I will once I have all the clothes done, but until then,” you pat his cheek. “I can’t.”

He sighs an ‘okay’ and plants a kiss on your cheek and walks away. About twenty minutes later you had gotten all the laundry done and went to join Peter on the couch. He was watching reruns of Brooklyn 99 which was one of your favorite shows. He put his arms out and made grabby hands and you leaned into his touch. You laid your head on his chest with the rest of your body sprawled out on the couch. He put his arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. You looked up and kissed his lips and sat up just a bit straighter. One of his hands went to the back of your neck and the other rubbed your thigh, and you relaxed even more into him. Your right hand carded through his hair and the other sat splayed on his peck, slightly gripping his shirt. You two stayed like this for what felt like hours, just basking in each other’s comfort. You pulled back to breathe and gave him one last kiss before going back to your original position, laying on him.

“What do you wanna watch?” He yawned.

“Well since your yawning and –“ you yawned this time. “And so am I, let’s just take a nap.”

He hummed in agreement and led you to your shared bedroom and he changed into just a pair of sweatpants. You laid down and he did shortly after. You turned, facing him as your chests were touching. You stared at him for quite a long time before you even realized that you were. His face scrunched up that was so cute you wanted to take a picture.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just look cute,” you said back.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Nope. I do,” he challenged.

“That’s impossible because I love you to Jupiter and back,” you kissed his nose, ultimately shutting it down because you were tired. School had kicked your ass this week and you hadn’t really had anytime to just lay with Peter. You scooted down a bit so, you could lay your head on his chest, your legs intertwined, as he held you against him so tight that nothing could slip in between you two.

The next morning you had woken up extra early to make some French toast for you and Peter. You got out the bread and butter and the rest of the ingredients and started cooking. Since you were the one who was in the culinary department, the silent agreement between you and Peter was that you would cook, and he would clean your mess. You tried to not make too much of a mess, because you weren’t that mean. After a couple more minutes you got breakfast done and at that exact moment you put the toast on the plate, Peter comes waddling out with his hair a mess. It was almost like it was scripted like a scene in a movie.

“I smelled French Toast,” he smiled.

“Mhm, I thought that I would be nice and cook breakfast for you this time.” You pecked his cheek and gave him the syrup.

“Eat up and get ready for a long day of packing suitcases, babe,” you winked at him.

“Oh boy.” You didn’t hear his sarcasm often, but when you did it always made you chuckle.

He went over to the couch and you followed setting up the coffee table and turning on Spongebob to watch as you ate. You turned towards him and smiled and received a kiss on the nose. Today was going to be a good day, you thought.

It was now four thirty in the evening and you and Peter were packing up all your belongings into your suitcases. “Okay so you need your swim trunks, flip flops, sunglasses, and what else?” You ask.

“Is that just for swimming?” You nodded. “Then yeah I think that’s it.” You went over to his drawer grabbing his trunks out along with your swimsuit. You had all your clothes spread out into separate piles consisting of swimwear, pajamas, nice shirts, casual shirts, and wedding attire. Peter grabbed all of his clothes and stuffed them into his suitcase and you did the same. After that you went to the bathroom to grab all extra stuff that consisted of teeth and hair products, and everything in that category. Peter went into the kitchen to the medicine and started to pack anything that might be needed for allergy’s and whatnot. You figured you would pack your purse of carry on items before you left tomorrow morning.

After two hours of packing and double checking, and once the bed was cleared, you flopped down face first and groaned. “I’m so exhausted,” you huffed.

“Aww, is my baby tired?” He asked this as he pressed feather-light kisses to your neck that always made you shudder.

“Yes,” you say as you awaited a kiss on the lips. He happily kisses you, slow and lovingly, and you feel like you could stay there for eternity. He pulls away for minute to catch his breath. “We should probably figure out what we want to do for dinner.”

“How ‘bout leftovers? There’s still some enchiladas or lemon pepper chicken in the fridge.”

“Ooooh, let’s do chicken.”

You get up from the bed to heat the chicken up in the oven. “Imma make some garlic cheesy rice too!” You shout from the kitchen.

“Sounds good, baby.”

You two make your dinner and eat in a comfortable silence, watching TV. You both decided to watch one more episode of Parks and Rec before calling it a night, and Peter figured it would be smart to go to bed early since you would both have a long day of checking flights and meeting the Avengers tomorrow; and that was tiring by itself.

Tag-List: @randomstufflol29 @spideyspeaches @binnotjin

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot

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duskholland · 4 years

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The Fame Game (Part Five) || Tom Holland

Summary ↠ You have a mishap with a washing machine, Harrison’s a bowling prodigy, and Tom... Well, Tom is actually quite nice..?

Warnings ↠ Alcohol consumption, reckless washing machine usage

Word count ↠ 4.6k

A/N ↠ And with this part, we’re officially halfway through the fic...? Omg. Crazy crazy. I decided to give you a fairly soft chapter before I start messing things up in parts six-eight, so you’ve been warned haha. As always, thanks so much to everyone that’s been reading and enjoying the story - means the absolute world to me. Enjoy! :D

FIVE: I Wanna Hold Your Hand (Y)

Your trip to London is going well until you have a little mishap with Tom’s washing machine.

It’s not your fault, really. You’d been all over the place - press engagement here, fake date there - and you hadn’t been thinking as you’d shoved your brand new, freshly-worn red dress into the machine, alongside a collection of Tom’s favourite white t-shirts. It hadn’t even dawned on you what you’d managed to do until you heard a very loud, disgruntled yelp come from the laundry room.

“What’s wrong?” You yell reluctantly, voice echoing through the large house. You’re very comfortable where you are - burrowed beneath a heap of blankets and cushions on Tom and Harrison’s squishy sofa in the living room. You’re a week into your visit, and it’s safe to say you have made yourself at home.

“Y/N! Do you not understand how a washing machine works?!” It’s Harrison. Immediately you feel trepidation creeping into your veins. “Come here!”

Shuffling guiltily, you slowly make your way to the laundry room. When you enter, you gasp as you see Harrison holding up a shirt you recognise immediately as Tom’s, stained a nice, bright pink.

“Oh no,” you mutter. Your hands fly up to your face. “Are they all like that?”

Harrison nods, humming. For all the irritation of his yell, he’s looking at you with an amused smirk on his face. “Seems like you’ll need to do a bit of grovelling. I’m just glad they’re all Tom’s, and not mine.”

You pinch at the bridge of your nose. “Great,” you mutter. “This is fantastic.”

You take a bottle of water as your peace offering to Tom, who’s out in the back garden messing around with a punching bag. When he sees you, he pauses his punches, throwing out a toothy grin in your direction. He’s shirtless, lower half wrapped in a pair of black basketball shorts, and he looks quite nice with his face flushed a rosy red and his brown curls thrown in every direction.

“Hi,” Tom calls out, stopping his assault on the punching bag. “You alright?”

You manage a tight-lipped smile as you pass him the bottle. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Are you?”

Tom looks at you sceptically, raising a ruffled eyebrow. “Are you sure?” He questions. “You look a bit… stressed.”

You deflate. It’s as if he can see right through you. “Fine,” you admit. “I did something bad, and you’re going to be annoyed with me, but before I tell you what it was, I want you to know that it was an accident and I feel horrible about it, okay?”

Tom tilts his head, laughing nervously. “Is it as bad as the time you told Ellen I was the worst celebrity in Hollywood?” You shake your head profusely, gnawing your lower lip. Guilt sweeps across you, but you’re too nervous to focus on that now. “Then it’s fine, Y/N. Just tell me what happened.”

It’s odd - how quickly your relationship has broken down into something so much gentler. When you’d stepped off the plane and tumbled into Tom’s arms a week ago, you’d been full to the brim with apprehension about your trip. But he’s managed to ease you at every point - offering you tea, a nice bed, and unlimited time with his dog Tessa (who really might be your favourite Holland now). He hasn’t goaded you, or teased you, or pushed you too far. Part of you wants to know what’s changed, what’s catalysed his change of heart, but a larger piece of you doesn’t want to open up that dialogue for fear of him turning it onto you.

Tom’s being nice to you, and without any digging comments to respond to, you’re being nice in return. It really is that frustratingly simple. The residual tension and anger that has been a part of your relationship for so long have dipped beneath the surface, and whilst you still feel them somewhere, bubbling away, your relationship feels looser.

Things between you are tender. Breakable and fragile, but like a tentative new beginning. You’re almost friends now - which is why you are so annoyed that you might’ve fucked it all up with one stupid mistake.

“I mixed colours in the washing machine and stained all of your shirts,” you blurt out. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

Tom takes a moment to process this, his face pinching into an expression of irritation. “All of them?” He repeats, his accent pronounced.

“All of them that were in the washing machine,” you mutter, kicking at the ground. “Maybe ten.”

His jaw flexes, and you prepare yourself for a harsh insult or a snarky comment. You haven’t heard any recently, but you can almost imagine it, your mind familiar with his chide remarks.

Tom releases a breath. “It’s fine,” he says finally, defying all of your expectations. “Mistakes happen.”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m really sorry,” you emphasise. You watch as Tom flicks off the lid of the bottle and starts to chug the water, using his other hand to card through his messy brown strands. His sweaty hair sticks to his fingers.

“It’s fine,” he repeats. Tom even throws in a bit of a smile to ease you. “I need new shirts, anyway.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Even better if you’re the one paying.”

You roll your eyes, releasing a breath of relief. “I knew you were only dating me for the money,” you tease, gasping dramatically. “You’re just a gold digger!”

Tom clutches a hand to his heart, and you find your gaze briefly flittering over the defined lines of his muscular chest.

“I can’t believe you listened to those rumours about me,” he responds, his voice equally as performative as yours. “I thought you were better than this!”

You descend into a round of giggles together, and Tom’s deep, hearty laughs are like music to your ears.

The following day, you find yourself walking down Carnaby Street, hand wrapped in Tom’s. Your other arm carries an array of heavy shopping bags. Despite halving your purchases with Tom, the bags weigh heavily on your arm, the tight lines of the handles pinching at your skin.

But you don’t care - not really. You’re too busy listening to Tom as he tells you about the last time he’d been down this street - last Christmas, with his brother Paddy, apparently.

“-Yeah, so that’s how he bullied me into spending five hundred quid on his present,” Tom finishes, pausing as you laugh. “He’s such a sneak.”

“Paddy seems nice,” you say. You’ve got a broad smile on your face as the warm spring sun beats down across your skin. It’s the first properly sunny day since you arrived in London, and it feels like the sun’s come out, just for you. “Your whole family seem lovely, actually.”

“Harry’s a bit of a twat,” Tom says, “But the rest of them are alright.” There’s a brief pause, and you glance over to see him looking at the ground, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looks up at you, nerves visibly in his eyes. “Would you want to meet them?”

You swallow back the apprehensive lump that forms in your throat. “Your family?”

“Well, my parents and Paddy. You’ve met the others already. We’re planning on going bowling tomorrow night if you want to come with us.”

“You’d want me to meet your family?”

Tom shrugs. “Yeah. They want to meet you.”

Your eyes widen, and you stop walking. Around you, shoppers and families pass you by, trailing up and down the busy shopping high street. Tom pauses, turning to face you, his thumb brushing casually across the back of your hand as he stares at you curiously.

“Don’t they hate me?” You ask tentatively. You both know why his family might think of you unfondly. Your family certainly doesn't view Tom in a positive light.

Tom shakes his head, a bit of an awkward expression curling over his face. It gets uncomfortable now whenever your past is brought up. It seems both of you would rather skate around the topic than address it. You know avoidance is a bad idea, but pretending your relationship wasn’t built on resentment and crossed wires is easier than addressing the elephant in the room. Whenever you think about your history, it makes you feel angry - there are a lot of unforgiven sins hiding there, but you’re trying to bury them. You’re trying desperately to move on, but you can feel them following behind you like an anchor you don’t want to acknowledge yet. You can’t quite shake the feeling that this tactic of avoidance may, eventually, blow up in your face.

“They’d like to meet you. You’re going to be a part of my life for the next three months, Y/N, and… And I’d like to think we are, uh, sort of friends now.”

You nervously bite at your lower lip, giving him a soft nod. “Yeah. We’re friends,” you confirm, mouthing the word tentatively. Friends sound nice, and your smile grows in strength when he squeezes your hand tighter. “I’ll come tomorrow. Thank you.”

Tom steps nearer, and surprises you by pressing his lips to your cheek. The skin warms at his touch, and you end up with a stupid grin on your face when he steps back.

“Thanks, Y/N. You’ll have a good time, I promise.”

And you just about believe him.

You’re glad that your days are filled with interviews and press junkets, because your nerves about spending the evening with Tom’s family still manage to build up, even with a thousand other things on your mind to distract you. It reaches the point where Harrison offers to tag along too, just so you have someone else to cling onto if it all goes awry.

“You’re being a bit ridiculous about this,” Harrison mutters. You’re leaning up against the counter of the desks at the bowling alley, waiting on your bowling shoes. He’d come to pick you up from your last interview, and together you’d come to meet with Tom and his family at the alley.

“I’m not being ridiculous,” you reply, eyebrows arching. You kneel on the floor, your fingers nervously unpicking your laces. “I just want to make a good impression. Is that so bad?”

Harrison joins you, the ring on his finger glinting as he starts undoing the straps of his shoes. “No,” he agrees, “But you really don’t have to be this cut up about it. They’ll love you.” He glances up at you, blue eyes glinting sceptically. “Since when do you care, anyway? I thought you don’t like Tom.”

You release a shuddering breath, shaking your head slightly as you stare at the patterned carpet. “Tom’s fine,” you find yourself saying. You stand up quickly, head spinning as you grab your shoes and place them on the counter. You rest on your elbow and look back to Harrison, who’s looking at you with an annoying smirk on his mouth. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You guys bought matching shoes,” Harrison states it like a fact as he reaches up to poke the toe of your new shoes. “I saw the same pair on him earlier.”

You bite at your lower lip, shrugging. “We went shopping together. He took some of my fashion tips.” You don’t like the direction the conversation is taking, so reach out to elbow Harrison. “Tom’s finally recognised that I’m far more fashionable than him.”

Before your friend can respond, the bowling attendant returns with your bowling shoes and the conversation is swept away, just as your new white Converse get hurried back and shoved in a cubby. Harrison changes the subject as you both slip on the squeaky bowling shoes, and then he’s leading you up to the end of the bowling alley, where Tom and his family are waiting for you.

Your first impression of the complete Holland family is their volume. They are loud, even as they’re split across two low, plastic bowling benches. Three either side, all six meeting in the middle with their voices clamouring together. Even as you and Harrison approach and you’re spotted, the conversation simply escalates - the topic of chat seeming to be which brother can lay out the most prominent greeting. It’s almost overwhelming, and Harrison seems to sense that as he’s quick to reach up and give you a discreet pat on the shoulder.

“Hello, everyone,” Harrison greets, exchanging a fist bump with Harry. You linger back, not entirely sure of your place within the fold until Tom’s mum rises from the bench and greets you with a kiss on the cheek.

“So good to meet you, Y/N,” she says warmly. “I’m Nikki, this is Dom, and that’s Paddy. You’ve met the rest of this noisy lot, I think?” Her eyes twinkle with comfort, and you feel yourself exhale.

There’s an exchange of pleasantries for a few minutes, and once you let go of the fear that Tom’s parents and younger brother might have gone into the meeting with chips on their shoulders, you’re able to relax. You end up gravitating towards Tom, who’s stayed sitting down on the bench, his arms crossed loosely over his chest as he watches the scene unfold. Tonight he’s in a black t-shirt and a chequered shirt, wrapped up in a pair of tight black jeans. Instinctively, your eyes skim around the rest of the alley, and you note the way you’ve already been spotted by a group of young men a few aisles down.

“Hi,” you say, voice soft. Your lips spin into a smile as you meet his eyes. “We’ve already been recognised.”

Tom’s eyes lose a little of their shine, but he opens up his arms and tilts his head towards the empty spot beside him. “C’mere,” he urges, and you’re quick to comply.

It’s easy, now, to slip into your role as Tom’s girlfriend. It’s almost second nature as you sit beside him and let him wrap an arm across your shoulders, and it feels normal as he kisses your temple and squeezes you closer. It feels nice.

“Hey.” Harry’s drifting over before you can get too comfortable, his nose scrunching up. “You guys aren’t on the same team. Y/N, you’re on the wrong bench.”

Tom releases a deep sigh, and the vibrations rumble across you. “Harry, lay off it,” he mutters.

Harry just crosses his arms over his chest, sharpening his gaze. “No. Y/N’s on my team, and I want us to win. That means none of this is allowed to take place,” he drags his finger between you and Tom, and you chuckle.

“Are you competitive, Harry?” You ask him, already shrugging off Tom’s arm.

“Definitely.”

“Good.” You stand up, grinning at Tom’s younger brother. “Me too.”

But before you can walk away, Tom’s grabbing at your hand and pulling you back, standing as he brings the back of your palm up to nudge against his lips. He meets your eyes, his gaze swirling with something indistinguishable, and your skin feels warm in each place he kisses. He’s still a respectful distance, given how close you are to his family, but he kisses your cheek before whispering into your ear, “There’s no chance you’re winning this, Y/N. Game on.” He pulls back to smirk at you mischievously, and you chuckle in response.

“Game on indeed, Thomas.”

You’re not trying to be mean, but you do think the division of the teams is slightly unfair. On Tom’s side is him, Harrison, Sam and Nikki - facing off against you, Harry, Dom and Paddy. It goes well for the first few rounds, and you’re keeping up evenly with Harrison, who’s quite the proficient bowler, but you have a loose cannon in the way of Paddy. You’d decided to play without the guard railings lining the lane, and you sit through round after round of him tossing the bowling ball straight into the gutter.

When it reaches round eight and your team is down fifty points, you decide to offer him some pointers.

“Have you thought about twisting it- no, more like this?” You’re standing up beside Paddy, staring down at the lane together. The ten pins at the end glisten beneath the fluorescent lighting, highlighted a bright, winning blue. You’re itching to grab the ball from his hands and throw it yourself, but you’re trying to play nice.

“More to the right?” The youngest Holland asks, looking up at you inquisitively.

“Yeah. And when you’re throwing it, try to look at the pins. Keep your eyes on the prize.”

“Eyes on the prize,” he repeats slowly. Paddy steels himself with a deep breath, and you shoot him a reassuring smile.

“Go on, champ,” you encourage, stepping aside. You can feel the eyes of the group on the two of you, and give him a wide berth as Paddy approaches the line. You watch him play around with the heavy ball, weighing up his options, and then your breath hitches as you watch him implement some of your pointers. He moves fast - arm swinging, hair flicking, and then…

Strike.

A round of cheers goes up around the benches, and Paddy turns to you, ecstatic. “Did you see you?” He boasts, face flushing with a proud grin. “Look what I just did!”

You walk over, meeting him in with a big high five as you beam. “Well done,” you congratulate. Paddy runs off to his family, and Tom wanders over, next in line to take his shot. Beneath the UV light, he’s glowing. The tips of his teeth gleam a weird blue as he smiles widely at you. “You see that?” You say, teasing, “That’s what I call star power. My team may lose, but I take full credit for nurturing such a young talent.”

Tom laughs, the sound deep and hearty, and with the hand that isn’t holding a bowling ball, he reaches out and rests it your shoulder. His fingers feel warm against your shirt, and as you drift nearer to him, the comfortable scent of his cologne tickles your nose.

“Quite impressive, I have to admit,” he concedes. “We’re still going to beat you, though.”

You shrug happily. “Whatever.” You lull into the comfortable thought that you don’t really care about the outcome of the match - it’s just nice to be spending so much time around so many good people. “Bring your best, Holland. I’d like to see you try to win.”

“A round of drinks for the losers, as promised.”

It’s with a sombre tone that you walk back to the booth, three pints of beer balanced precariously in your hands. Harry trails behind you, grasping two. As you place the large glasses down on the sticky pub table, some beer sloshes down your fingers, causing you to screw up your nose as you shake it off.

“Cheers,” Sam says, voice dancing with amusement. Harry slams a glass in front of him, eyeing him hard.

“I still don’t believe the machine worked right,” Harry mutters. He slips into the booth beside Harrison. “There’s no way you guys won with mum on your team.”

Harrison scoffs. “Stop being such a sore loser!” He exclaims, poking at Harry’s side. “We won fair and square. Have some grace and respect for yourself and get over it.”

Harry opens his mouth as if to respond, but you reach down to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” you assure him. “We’ll get them next time.”

He nods, eyes determined. “Definitely.”

You realise you’re still standing at the end of the table, and look to the bench on your left. With Harry, Sam and Harrison crammed there, your only option is to slip down into the booth next to Tom, who’s making quick work of his pint. He quirks an eyebrow as he sees you staring, eyes shifting suggestively at the free spot beside him until you sit next to him.

As conversation picks up around the table, Tom rests an easy hand over the back of the booth, the tips of his fingers coming down to rest over your hair. Time slips by and he plays around absently with a few strands of your hair, shifting it around, fiddling with it - never hard enough to hurt, but present enough for you to feel it. In response, you rest a hand on his knee.

It’s interesting to observe Tom as the night draws on. He’s got several quirky characteristics to him that you’d never been aware of before. You realise he’s actually quite funny - always exchanging small sarcastic quips here and there with Harry and Harrison - but he also seems to know where the line is. When the conversation grows darker and Sam opens up about something close to him, Tom leans nearer, eyes full of concern and love for his brother. He speaks in soft, warming tones that you’ve never heard before, and they’re like assuring melodies to your heart.

It’s interesting to see him show such care and consideration towards other people, because for so long, those qualities had been absent when it came to his interactions with you. You wonder if that was just because you’d been a dick towards him and he’d retaliated, or if maybe there’s always been something else hanging in the air between you - the type of emotion that doesn’t come out around family or friends.

As you relax by his side, Tom shows you many redeemable qualities, hidden away so close to the surface that you’re surprised you’d never seen them before. Your only explanation is that before - before this trip, and truly getting to know him - you’d been too reactive to notice them. Your past conversations had been coloured very differently, and you wonder how much of your history would be different if you’d seen this version of Tom, all those years ago, at the BAFTAs. The thought irks you, and you can’t help but think that you’ve wasted so much time fighting with him when you could’ve been chatting, easily like this, as friends.

“Excuse me? Hi?”

You’re slightly tipsy as you look up to the side, realising you’ve been approached by a few people who look at you and Tom like they’re fans. You’ve inched closer to him, with his arm wrapped around your shoulders and your side snuggled up against him. You think it must be quite convincing, how much you look like a real couple.

“Hello,” Tom says, tilting his head to look at them. You can’t see him, but you can almost feel the perplexed smile on his lips.

“Um, sorry, this is probably really weird. We just saw you guys and wanted to say that you’re a really cute couple.” The fan looks at her friend, and they giggle together. “Are you guys planning on getting married? I think it’d be, like, the best wedding ever.”

Across the booth, you watch as Harry whispers something into Harrison’s ear that makes them both laugh. You throw a scowl towards them before looking back to the fans, taking Tom’s silence as a window for you to respond.

“Not at the moment,” you tell them sweetly. “We’re just seeing how it goes.”

You omit to tell them that in three months, you won’t even still be ‘dating’ Tom. You try not to think about how that fact rests uneasily in your chest.

“Aww.” The friends share a few pouts. “Could we get a picture with you both?”

There are a few rounds of photographs, then you come to the group decision that it’s time to pack it in and head home. You’re just glad the interruption came after you’d been in the pub for a few hours and not earlier. It’s always a risk being in public, but you’d assumed you’d be somewhat safe buried in the corner of a small London pub. You should’ve known by now that you can only remain anonymous for so long.

There’s a bit of a walk to the car park, and Harry takes it upon himself to tease you.

“So, where are you guys going on your honeymoon?” He asks, imitating the fan. “How long until you have kids? You’re both so sweet. Couple goals-”

“Shut up, Harry,” Tom grunts. He’s right beside you, your hands tangled up. You exchange an expression of frustrated amusement, and Harry barks out a laugh.

“Sorry,” he mutters, sounding the opposite. “It’s just funny.” He looks back at you, scrunching up his nose as he realises you and Tom are holding hands. “You know there isn’t anyone around out here. You don’t need to pretend.”

Feeling a little embarrassed by how easily and instinctively you’d reached to claim Tom’s hand, you let his fingers fall away. You shiver as the dark London wind whips around you, and your hand feels cold.

You and Tom walk in sync, trailing behind Harry, Harrison and Sam. There’s a silence between you that feels almost tangible - stretched tight with unspoken words and observations. Eventually, he breaks it.

“It was really nice seeing you with Paddy earlier,” Tom admits. You glance to the side, noting the way his hair has fallen out of the loose gel he’d combed through it earlier. Chestnut curls frame his face - spreading out across his forehead, and you get the sudden urge to card your fingers through the strands. “He likes you.”

“He’s a nice boy,” you reply, smiling. “Got pretty good at bowling after I helped him, too.”

Tom chuckles, nodding. “You’re a good teacher.”

“I try.” There’s a soft silence again, and you nudge his arm. “Thanks for inviting me along,” you say. “It’s been nice getting to know everyone.”

“Any time.”

It’s cold. It’s really cold. Your hand aches - too used to the warmth of Tom to feel content hanging alone.

“It’s so chilly,” you voice, shivering for effect. Tom glances at you, his brown eyes glowing in the dark. “I think my fingers are going to drop off.”

Tom chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Mine too.” He brings up his hand, flexing his slender fingers. Halfway through the action, he pauses, suddenly gaining a distant look in his eyes. “Do you want to, uh…” He offers you the hand, quirking an eyebrow. “Just if you’re cold, we could..?”

You bite your lip, keeping the smile at bay. “Okay.”

Your fingers tangle together, and the moment you feel his warmth against your palm, you feel better. Tom’s thumb brushes tentatively across the back of your skin, and though you’ve held hands on numerous occasions, this time it feels different.

It feels different because it isn’t forced. You aren’t holding him because you have to - you want to. And that’s the kind of different that would make your head hurt if you weren’t so distracted by the way his touch ignites a glowing warmth in your heart.

Your hands rest comfortably between you, and Tom leans nearer, tilting his face so he can lay a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Get warm soon, darling,” he whispers, keeping his mouth near your ear. His breath against your skin makes you shiver.

Maybe it’s the drink, or the cold air, or the fatigue, but there’s a moment before Tom pulls back that your eyes find the slopes of his lips, and you wonder, briefly, what it’d feel like to kiss him without the eyes of the public resting on you. You wonder if it’d be different, like it is to hold hands now. Would he be gentle? How would it feel to share a kiss like that?

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, and when you open them, he’s moved away. Your heart clenches.

“Thanks, Tom.”

↠ NEXT PART

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years

Text

If Tomorrow Starts Without Me - Chapter 8

Rating: Mature

Words: 7,271

Trigger warning: descriptions of canon typical violence

Either read over on ao3, or below the cut!

Let me know what you think :)

August 1998

“Fifth times the charm.” Emily mumbles under her breath as they are let into the house by the real estate agent. She smiles when she feels Aaron squeeze her hand tighter, a silent request that she behave herself.

“What was that Mrs Hotchner?” The overly cheery estate agent asks.

“Oh, it’s very charming.” Emily answers, completely straight faced. The other woman seems to accept her answer and walks further into the living room.

“Good save.” Aaron whispers into his wife's ear, and she shushes him, hitting him lightly in the chest.

“I’ll give you two a chance to have a wander round yourself. If you have any questions I’m here.”

The house is perfect, something neither of them had been expecting given the disasters the past few viewings had been. They walk around upstairs, the master bedroom stealing both of their hearts almost instantly, and the room just down the hall that screamed it would be a perfect nursery making both of them smile.

“How long did you say you two had been married again?”

The real estate agent makes them both jump, and they turn to look at her, her fond smile fixed on their joint hands.

“Two years.” Aaron answers, unable to stop the way he smiled as he looked at his wife. There were days when he still couldn’t figure out how he had gotten so lucky, or why Emily had picked him to spend her life with. Sometimes he asked her, when they were laid in bed together, twisted in their sheets. His curiosity getting the better of him as he took in the incredible woman he got to call his wife.

Emily never answered him, not with what he was looking for anyway. She never gave a reason solid enough for his liking. Just a roll of her eyes, occasionally joined by the pinching of whatever skin her fingers were closest to. Then she’d mutter that she was the lucky one.

“Well, this would make the perfect nursery.” The real estate agent says, a wry smile on her face. “Are you two planning on any additions to the family?”

Emily would usually put on her political smile at such a personal question, and provide some kind of half answer to the woman who was selling them a house. But she can’t, her happiness overwhelming any usual need to play her cards close to her chest.

She looks up at her husband and smiles at him. “Yes, we are.”

They sign the deeds the next day. _________________

April 2000

Aaron finds her sat in the middle of the room they had intended to be a nursery. She’s sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, an old shirt of his stretched over them as she wraps her arms around herself.

He silently sits next to her, the words from the doctor they had seen that day still reverberating around his head. The apology that told them everything they had needed to know. Everything that, on some level, they already knew.

It had taken him quite some time to get her home, her devastation in the parking lot outside the fertility clinic so raw he practically had to carry her back to their car. He had convinced her to shower when they got back, giving her the time alone he knew she craved.

Emily leans into him and presses her wet face into his shoulder. Aaron wraps her arms around her, pulling her into his arms.

“I knew something was wrong.” She murmurs into his shirt. “I knew it.” The tears start afresh, not that they had ever really stopped, and he rocks her gently.

Aaron shushes her, rubbing a hand up and down her back, pointless words of reassurance whispered into her hair. _________________

October 2002

“Ok, we’re here.” Aaron says as he pulls the car into their driveway, immediately turning around once it was parked, his seemingly ever-present smile widening at the sight of his wife and his newborn son in the backseat.

Emily smiles at Theo, gently touching his cheek. “Did you hear that, baby? We’re home.” She looks up at Aaron. “Would you mind getting him?”

“Of course not.” He gets out the car and gets to work on getting Theo’s carseat out of the back. By the time he is done Emily is still half sat in the car. “You ok, sweetheart? Do you need help?”

“No.” She grits out, wincing as she makes the final move to get out of the car. He’s by her side in an instant, one hand on her lower back and the other still holding the handle of the car seat. She rolls her eyes at him. “Aaron, my love, our very adorable son just took the best part of two days leaving my body very slowly. I’m going to be sore for a while.” She places a hand on his cheek and smiles at him. “Time is really going to drag if you react like that everytime I wince.”

Aaron opens his mouth to argue, but when she raises an eyebrow at him again he concedes, but keeps his hand on her lower back as he leads them into the house.

Emily makes a beeline for the couch, settling down into it’s cushions almost immediately. Her entire body hurt, and she didn’t think she had ever been this exhausted, but she was so happy she could burst.

She looks over to where her husband was standing, now holding Theo in his arms. “Aaron, bring me my baby.”

He walks over to her and sits next to her, gently handing their son over, before maneuvering her so their shoulders overlap, both of them looking down at Theo as he fights sleep.

“Is Jack staying at Jessica’s tonight?” She asks gently, eyes not moving from the baby.

“Yeah, she said she’ll bring him back tomorrow. Apparently he’s excited for more time with Theo.” Aaron answers, kissing her temple.

“That’s sweet.” She traces a finger over her son’s soft cheek, smiling as it twitches slightly in his sleep. Aaron shifts behind her, and it jolts her, making her wince as pain radiates through her body. She hears his sharp intake of breath, the way he opens his mouth to apologise. She removes the hand she’s had under Theo to cover her husband's mouth. “Don’t even think about it.” _________________

October 2003

Emily feels a tiny hand tugging at her shirt and readjusts Theo on her hip. She mindlessly presses a kiss to his head as she loads the washing machine. It never failed to amaze her how much laundry her one year old son could create.

Theo rests his head on her shoulder, the sleepiness he had been fighting in his refusal to go down for a nap finally winning out. “Mama.”

Her gaze snaps to him the second she hears his little voice, and he’s looking at her through tired eyes. “What did you just say?”

“Mama.” He repeats, as if he has said it a thousand times, as he buries his head further into her.

“Oh.” She abandons the laundry and wraps both arms around her son, pulling him tightly into her as she presses a kiss to his forehead. “You’ve never said that before.”

“Sweetheart, I just came to check you haven’t fallen in.” Aaron’s voice floats into the room, but his teasing tone fades when she turns and he sees the tears in her eyes. “Em, what’s wrong? What happened?”

She shakes her head, laughing at herself for the tears she cannot stop from coming. “Nothing’s wrong.” She clears her throat and bounces Theo on her hips slightly, getting his attention. “You going to show Daddy your new trick, huh?” Theo smiles up at her, his toothy grin as infectious as it was the first time he had done it. “Who’s this?” She points at herself and waits a beat, hoping he does it again.

“Mama.”

Aaron looks as delighted as she feels and pulls them both into a hug, kissing the top of Theo’s head before pressing a kiss to her lips.

When he pulls back she doesn’t miss the way his eyes are shining too. _________________

May 2004

He finds her standing watching the boys, hanging back from the entryway to the den so neither of them spot her. He walks up behind her, wraps his arm around her waist and she easily settles into him, resting her weight partially on him. He presses a kiss to her temple and looks over to where Jack and Theo are playing to see what she has been watching.

Jack was playing a video game, a racing one he was obsessed with. Theo was sitting next to him, the 18 month old holding a controller Aaron knew wasn’t plugged in, copying his brother intently like he had started doing lately, smashing buttons on a controller as if he knew what he was doing and was about to win the race.

The sight made him smile. The age difference between the two of them meant things were tricky sometimes, Theo was too young to really join in on anything that interested Jack, but they adored each other.

“He’s a good big brother.” Emily says, the sadness in her voice undeniable, and he knows she is thinking about the negative pregnancy tests in the trash in their ensuite bathroom. A failed round of IVF making the devastation on her face from years ago make it’s return, something he wishes he could fix for her but knows he never can.

“Come on, let's go sit.” He kisses her temple and slowly drags her out of the den, letting her give the boys one more fleeting look. He guides her to the living room, settles them both on the couch. “What are you thinking?”

She laughs, but it comes out more like a sob. “That I hate my stupid body.”

“Em.” He chastises, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. It was something she had said many times over the years. Throughout their attempts to have a baby, through the first failed attempt at IVF before Theo. Even in those last weeks of her pregnancy when Theo all but refused to be born. It always had the same result, him gently telling her off for speaking about herself that way. Reminding her she was more than her ability to have children. There were days when it didn’t help, and he knew this would be one of them.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Aaron.” She wipes a tear from her face only for it to be immediately replaced. “It’s too much. I can’t keep doing this.”

He pulls her into a hug and she gladly accepts it, grasping the back of his sweater tightly in her hands. He doesn’t know what to say, how to help her. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more.”

He pulls back from her, moves his hands so they are cupping her cheeks. “Emily, I need you to listen to me ok?” She nods in response, tears falling as she does. “You have given me everything and more. If we had spent our whole lives just the two of us in this house that would have been all I needed, because I would have had you.” He runs his thumbs over her cheeks. “We have two amazing kids down the hall, and you’re an amazing mother to them. Watching you with them is a privilege, sweetheart. I hope you know that.”

She nods again, although he can tell she doesn’t quite believe him. He draws her back into his embrace and rocks her slightly as she cries it out, mourns a future she can no longer see.

He closes his eyes as he rests his cheek against the top of her head, images of a little girl with her eyes and attitude haunting him in a way he hadn’t expected. _________________

Aaron calls Sam’s phone. If Foyet had taken Sam’s car, he would have grabbed his cell too. He’d want Aaron to contact him, to be a part of this.

The phone is answered within seconds.

“Agent Smith.” Foyet’s voice comes through the phone. It’s a sound that has haunted Aaron for months. Blurred the lines between consciousness and his nightmares. Ever present like a ghost he just can’t shift.

“Foyet. You don’t have to involve them. This is between us.”

“Terrible news about the Hotchners wasn’t it.” Foyet says, and Aaron can hear the mocking in his voice. “Their poor children. I have them with me now. The youngest is so small. She won’t remember either of them.”

Aaron closes his eyes as Foyet ignores him, and doesn't acknowledge what he is saying. He can hear they are in a car, but he’s not on speaker. Foyet was still living out his fantasy, not wanting Jack to understand the truth yet, wanting to draw this out for Aaron as long as possible. “If you lay a hand on any of them, if anything happens to my children, I will destroy you.”

“Yeah, we are just arriving now. Jack, do you still have the keys for the gate?” There is a pause, he can’t hear the conversation in the car until Foyet turns his attention back to him. “Got to go now. I’ll check in later.”

The line goes dead. Aaron hits the table in frustration, a growl leaving his throat that doesn’t sound human. He places his palms firmly on the table, trying to ground himself as he lowers his head, not looking at the team.

The conference room is silent for a moment, the conversation between Aaron and Foyet laying heavily in the air.

“Why would Jack have keys for wherever they are?” JJ asks finally, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

Aaron looks up at her, the question triggering something in his brain. “He’s taken them to the house.” _________________

He sighs as Penelope confirms that Emily is no longer on the line, and all Aaron can do is hope that his wife forgives him for this, for whatever comes next.

“Dad?” Jack’s desperate voice comes through the phone. “What should I do? How...how do I fix this?”

“Jack.” Aaron says firmly. “I will be there soon. Where is Amelia?”

Jack blows out a breath, his panic evident. “Upstairs, sleeping.”

He sighs in relief. He’s close to their house, only a couple of streets away and he just needs to distract Foyet long enough so he can get there. “Good. That’s good. Tell Theo to go upstairs.”

Aaron knows that if it was different, if it was Emily that Foyet had managed to lure to the house he’d kill her now. Not give him the chance to save her, make their last interaction after all their time together be over a phone as people listened in. With the children, Foyet would want to make him feel like he had a chance, like he could have saved them. His final torment.

He would want to kill them with Aaron in the house. _________________

He doesn’t remember turning the ignition off in the car. He jumps out with his gun in hand as quickly as he can manage, not even closing the car door behind him. The front door is slightly open and he bursts in, the first thing he sees was Jack sitting on the couch, staring straight ahead, eyes purposely not focused on Foyet.

Jack looks at Aaron, relief flooding his face at the sight of his father. “Dad.”

“Well, isn't this touching?” Foyet sneers, taking a step closer to Jack. Aaron turns his focus to Foyet, training his gun on the man.

“Jack.” Aaron doesn’t stop looking at Foyet, his eyes and his gun firmly directed at him. “Go upstairs.”

“Dad-”

“Jack. Upstairs now.”

He takes his eyes off Foyet for a second when he hears Jack reach the top of the stairs, and that's when he takes his chance. Aaron’s gun is knocked out of his hands before he knows what's happened, a punch to his face briefly stunning him.

Aaron sees Foyet bolt for the stairs, his speed surprising. Aaron catches him as he gets to the top, smashing the other man's head into a framed piece of art on the wall before he can make it into Jack’s room. They struggle, both falling down the stairs in a heap. Aaron feels his head collide with the bottom step, and his ribs aching with the force of the fall.

They separate, meeting in the entrance of the dining room, circling each other like predators. Aaron can feel the red mist descending. He’s known from the beginning, the moment he saw Foyet reflected in a picture of Emily’s smile, that this was only ever going to end one way. With one of them dead.

He hears a noise upstairs. A bang and then the scuttling of feet, too small to be Jack. Meaning Theo was running around up there.

“Maybe I’ll let your precious Emily live.” Foyet taunts him, pulling a knife out of his pocket and flicking out the blade. “I’ll let her come back here to find you and your sons dead. She can raise your daughter who will have no memory of you except for the fact you failed. And your wife would hate you for it, for not protecting the family she always wanted.”

Aaron snaps. Months of torment, of letting his life be dominated by this man all culminating into one moment. Foyet knows so much about them, all of their secrets laid bare to him, and Aaron knows it will never be over until one of them is dead.

He’s sure he growls and he lunges for Foyet, knocking the knife out of his hand. He gets him on the floor and punches him in the face. Hard. His knuckles almost immediately split with the force of it. Foyet laughs at first, and it makes him angrier. His fist came down with more force.

Aaron keeps hitting Foyet long after he surrenders. Long after the gurgling sound he made as he choked on his own blood stopped.Images of his children and his wife flash through his head, punctuated by the sound of the bones in Foyet’s face breaking, his teeth smashing against his fist. Aaron can feel his knuckles cracking, his skin breaking against the jagged edges of Foyet’s face but he can’t stop. The need to get this monster out of their lives for good was too great, overwhelming his usual unflappable control.

Derek eventually pulls him off of him, Dave running in not far behind. “Hotch, he’s dead. You’ve got to stop.”

Aaron heaves in a breath and looks over at the man who had torn his family apart, who had haunted his every thought and nightmare since he attacked him in this very house.

Foyet is unrecognisable, his face distorted by blood and bone.

Aaron doesn’t spare him another glance before he turns to Derek. “The kids are upstairs.” _________________

He finds Jack in his bedroom. As soon as Aaron opens the door the teenager jumps, clearly expecting Foyet to walk in.

“Dad.” The relief in Jack’s voice is palpable, and he closes the gap between them, hugging his father tightly. “You’re hurt. Where is he? What happened?”

Aaron pulls back and places his hands on his son’s shoulders to take a good look at him. He had gotten slightly taller. Another growth spurt that Emily had teased was coming clearly behind him. He squeezes Jack’s shoulders. “He’s not a concern anymore.”

Jack frowns. “You mean he’s dead?” He swallows and tilts his head at his father. “You killed him?”

“Jack. We can talk about it later, ok? Let’s get Theo and Amelia.”

His son hesitates, but nods. They leave the room together, and Aaron walks past Theo’s room. “I told him to go to his room.” Jack says, pointing to the closed door.

Aaron turns back for a moment. “He’ll have gone where he feels safest.” He turns back and opens the door to his own bedroom.

Amelia is standing in her crib, crying, and for a moment he is taken aback by how big his daughter looks, how beautiful she is. A mini Emily through and through. “Hi, honey.” He breathes, reaching to hold her for the first time since the morning he dropped the kids at Elizabeth’s house all those months ago.

The baby shies away from him, crying as if he was a stranger and it hurts more than any of Foyet’s blows had. He hears a whimper coming from under the bed.

“Jack, take your sister outside. JJ and the team are there.”

Jack picks up Amelia, and Aaron pretends that watching his little girl curl into her brother's arms so easily didn’t hurt him. He tries not to think about everything he missed. Those precious months of his daughter's life were stolen from him.

Jack turns to leave the room, shushing his sister to try and calm her down.

“Don’t go into the dining room.” Aaron says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Jack looks back and nods briefly before leaving.

Aaron kneels on the floor, ignoring the pain that seems to spark throughout his entire body as he does so, and leans down to look under Emily’s side of bed. Theo is there, curled up in a ball, shaking. He has a gash on his forehead, and as soon as he sees his father he starts to cry in earnest.

“Daddy?”

Aaron clears this throat, pushing down all the emotions that threaten to spill out of him so he can try and help his terrified son. “Hey buddy. How about you come from under there?”

Theo sniffs and shakes his head. “George said Mommy is dead.”

It feels like a punch in the gut, the devastation in his son’s voice makes his own tears flood his eyes. “He lied, Theo. She’s ok. She’ll be here soon.” Theo still looks unsure, wiping his face with the back of his hand, unmoving from his place under the bed. “Have I ever lied to you before?”

He seems to think about it for a second before shaking his head at his father and Theo slowly scoots out from under the bed, immediately throwing himself into Aaron’s arms and holds him as tightly as he can.

Aaron pulls back and runs his hand over his son’s head, finger tracing the edge of the cut on his forehead. “What happened, buddy?”

Theo sniffs, his fingers digging into his father’s bloodied shirt. “I heard loud noises and got scared. I fell over.” He tilts his head at Aaron, placing his hand on his cheek, over a cut that Aaron knew must be one of a dozen or so injuries. “What happened, Daddy?”

Aaron smiles at his son and somehow, despite his injuries, he manages to stand without letting go of him, placing him on his hip as he leaves the bedroom. “It doesn’t matter now. Let's get this cut on your head checked out.”

_________________

Theo is getting checked over by a paramedic when Aaron hears it. A car pulling up and a door slamming. An almost immediate argument afterwards as he hears his wife’s voice demanding to be let into the house.

“Jack, stay with your brother and sister.” Aaron says, already walking towards the front of the house away from the ambulance, ignoring the paramedics as they shout after him that he needs to be checked over.

He tries to shout for her, but she doesn’t seem to hear him or Derek as they both try and get her attention.

Aaron is only a few paces from Emily when he sees her knees give way, and he looks to the house, sees the body bag on the porch and in a second knows what she has assumed. He catches her, arms wrapping around her waist. She fights it, the sounds coming from her almost inhuman. She’s begging to be let go, devastation in every word. He turns her around, uses his strength against her to make her look at him.

Their eyes meet, for the first time in six months, and he sees the moment she realises who she is looking at.

“Aaron?”

It takes a second for her to move. She throws her arms around him, hitting him with a force that makes him grunt, the pain in his body from his showdown with Foyet increasing by the second. He holds her back just as tightly, squeezing her body into his as she cries against his neck.

“I thought…” Her voice fades off, torn open by sobs she has no control over. “Fuck, Aaron.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He presses a fierce kiss to the top of her head. He tries not to register that her hair smells different, that she’s thinner, weight she couldn’t afford to lose, gone with the stress of the last few months. He kisses the top of her head again, tries to give her all the love he had stored up in half a year. Eager to spill out onto her in a way he can feel she is desperately trying to return. “I love you.”

She cries harder, pulls away from him and kisses him roughly. She pulls away from him enough to speak. “I love you too.” She seems to take in his injuries for the first time, runs delicate fingers over the broken skin on his face. “Where are the kids?”

He leads her to them, never once letting her out of his grasp. As soon as Theo spots his mother he runs to her. Tears streaming down his face before he even reaches her. Emily bends down to his level, arms wrapping around him tightly.

“Oh my sweet boy.” She presses a kiss to the side of his head, not quite believing it had only been a handful of hours since she had last seen him. Emily frowns when her lips catch the edge of a bandage and she pulls back, frown deepening when she sees the stark white material on her son’s forehead. “What happened?”

“I hit my head.” He explains, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Emily stands, pulling Theo against her side and wrapping an arm around him before she looks up at her husband. “Is he ok?”

Aaron nods in response, a silent promise that he would tell her later on his face. Jack appears next to them, Ameilia on his hip, his patience with hanging back gone. He pulls Emily into a fierce hug which she gladly returns, Theo taking the opportunity to step into his father’s side.

Emily and Jack pull back from each other. “I’m so glad you’re ok.” Jack says, the relief clear on his face, shining in his eyes in the form of tears he hadn’t let fall.

“Right back at you, kid.” She replies, running a quick knuckle over his cheek when a tear does escape. Amelia choses that moment to cry out and reach for her mother. Emily gladly takes her into her arms, holding her daughter close. “Sweetheart, it's ok. We’re all ok.”

_________________

Aaron has to go to the hospital. He tries to argue against it, but the firm looks of the paramedic and Emily leave him with no choice. They manage to all pile into one Ambulance, refusing to be separated so soon after being reunited.

They sit waiting for a doctor to come see him, to assess the damage Foyet had caused this time around.

It's not lost on Emily that the last time she’d seen him was in this very hospital, him begging her to go and hide away for her safety and their childrens. He’d been on edge, the mix of pain and sedatives that failed to calm him down had made him less coherent than normal.

It had taken her weeks to fall asleep without the look of horror on his face haunting her, or the fear that Foyet had killed him after all. Her only reassurance that he was alive being the very fact she was apart from him, and not in their home.

He somehow looked worse now than he did when he had just been stabbed. He was thinner, paler than she’d remembered him to be. A sign that he hadn’t looked after himself like she had begged him too when she left.

His shirt was splattered with blood, a mixture of his own and of the man who had tried and failed to tear their family apart blending together.

“Agent Hotchner?”

They look up to see a nurse standing there, waiting to take him to the numerous scans they were told he would need to ensure he didn’t have any internal bleeding.

He nods at her as he stands up off of the gurney he was on, wincing as he does so. He kisses Emily’s forehead as he passes her, a promise that he will be back soon pressed into her skin.

Having him out of her sight immediately sets her nerves on edge. Her ribs feel tight, fear scratching up her spine that he would be snatched away from them again. Emily looks over to the other side of the cubicle and sees Jack with a sleeping Amelia on his lap, talking gently to Theo to keep him distracted.

“Jack, are you ok here with them for a moment?” She lifts her hand that is holding Aaron’s cell phone. “I’m going to make a call.”

“Of course.”

Emily doesn’t miss the nervous look on his face, the waver to his voice, and she wants to kill Foyet herself for doing this to them all. She walks past Jack on the way out, and passes a hand briefly through Amelia’s soft hair before squeezing Jack’s shoulder. “I won’t go far, I promise.”

She finds a relatively quiet hallway and blows out a breath as she pulls up the contact she was looking for, pressing the screen before she could change her mind. The call is answered almost immediately.

“Aaron, is everything ok?”

Emily feels more emotion hit her than she was expecting, and has to close her eyes to hold back the tears she can’t afford to shed yet. “Hi, Mother.”

“Emily?” _________________

Her mother promises to fly back to the US as soon as she can, insisting on seeing them all as soon as possible. It’s an odd conversation, but not the most awkward they’ve ever had. Emily isn’t sure how to explain anything, how to tell her parents that a man had been scraped off of their dining room floor only a few hours ago.

Elizabeth asks how she can help, and Emily off-handedly says at the end of the call, with the promise to call again tomorrow, that they needed somewhere to stay.

Elizabeth calls back less than 5 minutes later and tells Emily there is a hotel room booked for them as long as they need it. The owner was an old friend of her mothers who was more than happy to help once he knew all of the details.

Emily walks back to the cubicle they had been put in to find both Amelia and Theo asleep on the gurney under the watchful eye of their older brother.

“Hi.” She says gently so she doesn't startle him. Jack turns to look at her, a sad smile on his face.

“Hi, Emily.” He looks away from her again and back to his siblings.

She sits next to him, taking his hand as she does so. “You ok?”

“I’m so sorry, Emily.”

She frowns at that, the desolation in his voice, and she gives his hand a squeeze. “What for?”

“For believing him, for putting your kids in danger.”

Emily feels like she has had the breath knocked out of her.“Jack.” She breathes out. “You are my kid.” He looks at her then, eyes wide with tears pooling at his lashes. “I love you just the same as I love them, okay?”

He nods at that, the movement making tears falls down his face which he immediately wipes away. “Okay.”

She smiles at him, pulling him into the best hug she can considering they are sat in hard plastic chairs.

“I love you too, Emily.”

Emily presses a kiss to the side of his head. “I know you do, honey.” _________________

The hotel room is massive. It’s the penthouse suite, three bedrooms leading off of the main living area, a kitchen in the back corner, and a bathroom with a massive jacuzzi tub. As soon as she opens the door, a sleeping Amelia in her arms, Emily realises she should have expected it.

Her mother had never been one for being low key.

Emily sees a couple of bags on the couch, stuff she knows JJ had sent up for them. A couple of change of clothes for them all, some pyjamas and basic toiletries.

She puts Amelia down to sleep immediately, placing her in the crib that had been put in the master bedroom.

It doesn’t take long for the boys to go to bed. They chose to share a room despite there being enough for them to sleep separately for the first time in months, and something about it makes her smile. She tucks Theo in at his request, and sends Jack a grateful smile, knowing he is giving her and Aaron some time.

As Emily clicks the bedroom door behind her she sees her husband flex his fingers, the stiffness in the swollen joints obvious. “Come on.” She says gently, indicating he should sit on the couch. “We should ice your hand a little.”

He complies as she briefly leaves the room to grab a towel, before getting ice from the bucket and wrapping it up.

Aaron hisses as the cold hits his skin, and she gently apologises under her breath.

“Why did you do it?” Emily asks as she holds the ice over his torn up knuckles like the nurse had instructed. She thinks briefly about how gentle his hands had always been with her, with their children. It seemed incongruent to think that the same hands had just beaten a man to death in their dining room.

“Do what?”

She glares at him, pressing a little too harshly with the ice into his hand. “Serve yourself up to him like some kind of sacrificial lamb.”

“Better me than you or the kids.” He says gruffly, avoiding her unyielding gaze. “It’s me he wanted. If he had killed me…” His voice drifts off for a second at the sharp intake of breath she takes in at that. He looked up at her, but she wasn’t looking at him anymore. Her focus on the broken skin on his hands. “You and the kids would be ok eventually, you’ve been without me for a while anyway.”

Emily looks up at him sharply and abandons her task completely, putting the ice down on the nightstand. She cups his cheeks, thumb tracing over a cut high on his cheek bone. “We haven’t been ok, Aaron. At all. I got a taste of my life without you and I didn’t like it.” She clears her throat. “So, please don’t offer yourself up like bait to any more serial killers, ok?”

He doesn’t miss the crack to her voice or the way her fingers tremble on his face. He covers her hands with his and rests his forehead against hers. “Ok.” _________________

Aaron insists that she showers first. She tries to argue, says that he was the one who needed it more, but in the end she relents. She turns the water temperature up a little too high, lets it burn the day off of her skin.

Emily takes a deep breath and leans against the shower wall. The enormity of the day, and what she could have lost, hitting her all at one. She stands and sobs under the hot water beating down on her, different scenarios of how the day could have gone running through her mind in a way she knew would haunt her nightmares for weeks to come.

It didn’t feel real that they had all made it out, that she could start piecing her family back together.

She knew it wouldn’t be easy. The look on Aaron’s face when Amelia had cried when he tried to hold her upon their arrival at the hotel had fractured Emily’s heart. He had refused her offer of a joint shower, something he had never turned down before. Things felt fragile. Like the tiniest aftershock from the terror that had torn through their lives could tear them apart.

Once she has stopped crying, Emily showers quickly and wraps a bathrobe around herself as she leaves the bathroom. When she walks back into the bedroom she was sharing with Aaron he was nowhere to be found. She frowns and walks out into the main part of the suite only to find he’s not there either.

She begins to panic, wondering where he could possibly be, when the door the suite opens, her husband walking through with a CVS bag in his hand.

“Where the hell did you go?” She asks, voice harsher than she initially intended. She tightly wraps her arms around herself, trying desperately to hold the broken pieces of herself together. “You can’t just leave.”

“I thought I’d be back before you got out of the shower.” Aaron answers, shrugging his coat off at the door. He walks towards her and places a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Emily tries to smile at him, but it doesn’t quite work. The tension from the day was still bubbling under her skin in a way that made her worried she’d eventually take it out on him. “What was so important at the pharmacy? I thought they gave you everything you needed at the hospital.”

Aaron opens the plastic bag and pulls out a pack of three peanut butter cups and presses it into her hand. “They didn’t have any of the giant ones left, so this will have to do.”

She looks at the chocolate in her hand and then up at her husband, confusion leaking out of her every pore. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Peanut Butter Cups. They didn’t have any giant ones.”

Confusion quickly turns into concern as she worries he may have a concussion after all, the practicalities of getting him back to the hospital when all of their children were asleep running through her head. “Aaron, honey.” She places a hand on his cheek. “You’re not making any sense.”

Aaron leads her over to the couch and sits them both down. He silently pulls his cellphone out, presses the series of buttons he has used countless times since he had sent her away. He watches his wife’s face as her own voice comes out of his phone.

“Hi honey, I just left Theo’s school, and I need to pop home before I take Amelia to the daycare. I thought I’d let you know as my boss that I’ll be late for work, because my husband apparently forgot the conversation we had only last night, and I’ve ended up having to do the school run.”

Emily looks at him as they listen to the message together, but his eyes are fixed on his cell phone, his grip on it tight. This daily routine that had kept him going during the time they were apart being observed for the first time.

“Which, by the way, led to a lovely conversation with my mother. I know baby, Daddy is an idiot.”

They both smile sadly at Amelia’s baby noises in the background, the fact she had grown so much since then more evident than ever.

“Anyway, you owe me big time. I’m thinking at least two orgasms and one of those giant peanut butter cups. I’ll see you later. Lo-.”

The voicemail cuts out and they sit in silence for a few seconds, Aaron avoiding her gaze, before she speaks. “I don’t remember leaving that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” He clears his throat, finally looking at her. “I didn’t find it until after I got home from the hospital and got my phone back.”

Emily places her hand over his wrist and strokes the skin there before laying her head on his shoulder. “How many times did you listen to that?”

“Daily. Sometimes more than once.”

She sighs and turns her head enough to press a kiss into the material of his shirt. She isn’t sure what to say, how to make any of it better. Ultimately she knows she can’t, at least not yet. They would both need to be on more even footing to feel reassured they had each other back.

“Thank you for my peanut butter cups.”

He laughs like she hoped he would, but he winces quickly, the pain in his ribs sharp like a blade. She lifts her head to look at him, concern laced through her expression. Aaron smiles at her and presses a whisper of a kiss to her lips.

“You’re welcome sweetheart, but I may have to take a rain check on those orgasms for now.”

Emily laughs this time, and it catches in her chest on a sob. She rests her forehead against his. “I’ll hold you to that, Hotchner.” _________________

Aaron sends Emily to bed, her exhaustion clear on her face. He showers quickly, wanting nothing more than to climb into bed with his wife and try to sleep.

When he walks into the bedroom she is already asleep. Curled close to the middle of the bed, her hand placed on the pillow intended for him. He pulls back the covers on his side and grabs her hand as she settles next to her, intertwining their fingers in a way that he had missed over the 6 months they were apart.

She had always been a light sleeper, which was only made worse when their children came along, so she wakes, but keeps her eyes closed. She squeezes his hand before untangling hers from his and placing it on his neck, thumb pressed to his pulse point.

“Is this real?” She moves so she’s sharing his pillow, forehead pressed against his, as if in that moment she doesn’t care if it is real, or some kind of cruel dream. That she just wants to be close to him, even if it means she’d open her eyes and find herself alone in the apartment she’d lived in with their children. “You’re here?”

He smiles at how she sounds when she’s half asleep, voice thick and words running into one. He pulls her closer into his arms and she gladly follows, wrapping themselves around each other tightly, as if George Foyet could rise from the dead and tear them apart again. They have so much to talk about, so many things that need fixing before they can go back to any version of the life they had before he came home to find Foyet waiting for him, but it could all wait until morning.

“I’m right here, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to her nose. “I’m right here.”

They both sleep fitfully. Nightmares tearing at the edges of their consciousness until they wake, finding solace in each other's arms.

#Hotchniss #Hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #WTB Universe #ITSWM

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction || He Forgets Your Birthday

A/N: I wanted to put this out on my birthday lmao as I know how it feels to get your birthday forgotten, but I also want to say I am working my way through my request list!! Happy Birthday to any birthday twins I have!!

Seokjin:

Jin was out on tour so it was no surprise to you that he did forget that it was your birthday, you weren't mad at him and you weren't about to be that girlfriend that caused a fight over something so small and stupid, you spent the day in your shared apartment watching Disney Movies and ordering take out for yourself, logging onto your social media to say thank you to family members who had wished you a happy day over the internet, Jin hadn't noticed anything different over their twitter feed until he saw what Army had trending, #HappyBirthdayY/N!, he groaned at the thought of forgetting something so important and made a plan to make things right, he knew there was no show tonight so he went back to the hotel to get a skype call ready, setting up a meal around the computer with candles, and asking one of the staff members to go and get some balloons for you. Once everything was set up perfectly he called your skype name and waited, you answered after four rings with a smile on your face, the smiling fading as you saw Jin there, he looked tired and he looked like he'd been crying.

"Jin!" You cried out, sitting up and pausing the movie you were on, he smiled sadly as you and you smiled back at him.

"Why aren't you asleep, it's late." You said to him but he ignored you, shaking his head and pointing out the balloons around him.

"I wanted to wish my baby a happy birthday, I know I forgot and I am so sorry, when I'm back from tour we'll go out to a meal, and I'll take you shopping." You chuckled shaking your head at him and took a blanket from the sofa and wrapped it around yourself.

"You're busy Jinnie, I don't blame you for forgetting, but you're here now and that's all I want." You settled back down against the sofa and he smiled at you,

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I love you." He said with a smile, taking his food over to the bed and getting comfy and ready to watch the rest of the movie you were watching before he joined you.

"I miss you Jinnie." You said not tearing your eyes away from the TV, you knew he loved his job and you loved his job, without it you wouldn't have met, but you did miss him,

"We'll fly you out next week, we can spend the weekend together then however long you want to stay." He said with a yawn, you giggled at how tired he was but agreed.

"I'd love that."

Yoongi:

"Happy birthday." Namjoon said as you walked through the halls of the studio building, you smiled at him and hugged him.

"Thanks Joonie." He handed you a gift bag and smiled at you, pointing at the card that was inside and hugging you again, he was in a rush to get back to writing since the comeback was closer than ever.

"Card first, then you can open your gifts." He teased before doing a small jog down the hallway, you continued walking to the genuis stuido and punched in the date for the password, easy enough to remember since it was the day you and Yoongi first met, though he told people it was a random set of numbers. You put the gift bag down on the sofa, and took Yoongi his lunch, he smiled at you and continued creating a beat on his screen, you set it up for him and went over to the sofa to sit down and open the card. Inside almost made you cry, not only had the rest of the boys signed the card but Namjoon had somehow gotten everyone on the staff team to sign it, and even Bang PD had signed the bottom, you smiled and took out the presents, opening them up and making mental notes to thank each of them later. Namjoon had gotten you some new stationary you'd been eyeing up when you went out shopping together, Hoseok had gotten you a new travel mug, Jungkook got you an overnight bag with a note telling you to keep it at the studio with Yoongi's things so you could be comfortable during the late nights, Taehyung got you a new oversized disney hoodie, Jin got you a cook book playfully having a note inside that your cooking was bad, and Jimin had gotten you tickets to your favourite band, you looked up from your phone after sending out a mass thank you text and saw Yoongi staring inside of the card, tears in his eyes.

"Baby I'm so sorry," You frowned at him and he shook his head putting the card down and coming over to your side, you looked at him and he was letting out silent tears, this wasn't like him at all.

"Yoongi?" You questioned concerned as to why he was crying in front of you.

"I forgot your birthday, I'm so sorry." You shook your head, taking hold of his hands and making him look at you, you understood he was busy.

"You're busy Yoongles, I understand." You said trying to comfort him but it wasn't working, he jumped up looking around for his jacket and keys.

"We're going out, now." You stopped him and pointed at the lunch you made him and then at your own on the table.

"Let's just stay here." He nodded in agreement and went to grab the food from his desk, coming back to your side and not moving.

Hoseok:

Hobi was at the studio all day so Mejiwoo was taking you out to go and get a nice lunch together and have a girly day together, you were sitting inside of a small cafe when she took out her phone to take some photos, you were wearing some of her shop's clothes so you posed for her so she could add them later, you loved spending time together with her, she was like a best friend to you which at first you found weird since you were dating her brother but it was nice to talk to someone about Hobi who grew up with him, and you got along really well together. She posted photos of you both together with a happy birthday caption and the fans were going crazy for it, Army knew about you and Hoseok and they supported it since you made him happy.

"Is Hobi taking you out later?" Mejiwoo questioned when she noticed you weren't eating anything, you shook your head and looked at your phone before putting it away.

"I think he forgot, but it's okay. I know how busy he is with the new comeback." You said, taking a piece of cake and eating it.

You walked through the door of your apartment the lights flicked out, Hoseok jumped up from behind the sofa and screamed

"Happy Birthday!" At you, as music played in the background, you smiled at him and went over to hug him, he smiled at you taking your face in his hands and moving the hair from in front of your eyes and bending down to kiss you.

"I'm sorry I forgot and my sister had to tell me I forgot." He said sheepishly, you shook your head at him, you weren't mad at him.

"Can we just cuddle on the sofa and watch movies?" You questioned looking around the apartment, he'd hung up some balloons and had a streamer with your name in the background.

"I love you Hobi but I'm so tired and I know you are too, so let's rest." You said taking his hands and dragging him to the sofa, sitting him down and getting a blanket to cuddle under.

Namjoon:

It didn't bother you that Namjoon had forgotten your birthday, as much as everyone around you was telling you it should be bothering you it just didn't, he was away shooting for Bon Voyage with other things on his mind, you didn't expect him to remember every little thing, he was just one man. They had the comeback coming up soon and you knew he was writing for that as well as shooting for Bon Voyage so you weren't surprised when your birthday had almost passed without a text or call from him.

"If he was my boyfriend, I would be pissed." Your sister said looking over your shoulder as you added a new photo to your Instagram, you'd just put on a picture of your cake, you rolled your eyes at your sister and stood up from the sofa, going to find your coat saying goodbye to your family members and heading back to your shared apartment with Namjoon, stopping at the shop to buy some chocolate for yourself, you were in the mood to just eat chocolate and watch Run episodes since there were some new ones you hadn't seen yet.

"Hobi?" You groaned down the phone, you heard him cheer from down the line and you giggled, sitting up in bed and looking at the digital clock on the nightstand, it was late where they were so you knew they'd probably been drinking together, Hoseok chuckled wishing you a happy birthday before the phone was passed to Jungkook who also screamed it at you, continuing until you heard someone yelling at them to keep it down, you knew that voice anywhere.

"HI BABY!" You screamed down the phone loud enough for him to hear if you weren't on speakerphone, everyone started singing happy birthday and laughing along when it suddenly stopped, everyone went into hushed tones before you heard a door slam and the phone cut out. Two seconds later it rang again, only Namjoon's name was on the screen this time.

"It's your birthday?" He sounded guilty and you hummed laying back down against the pillows, feeling instantly relaxed by the sound of his voice.

"I totally forgot, I am so sorry." You pressed the video call button instead and sat the phone so he could see you, you smiled sleepily at him and he sighed looking at you.

"Baby you're busy, I understand...Besides, you can make it up to me by showing me one of the new songs early." You teased wiggling your eyebrows up and down, he chuckled at you and sighed.

"Get some rest, I'll call you tomorrow and maybe we can discuss an early showing of a song." He teased, wishing you a happy birthday.

"I love you." You both said before ending the call.

Jimin:

You glanced down at the watch on your wrist and then over at the door again, he was either late or forgot that this was happening tonight.

"I'm sorry Miss but we have to give the table up." You nodded and got up from the table, walking behind a waitress who offered to get you a cab home, you sat in the back of the cab trying not to cry, you weren't mad at Jimin for forgetting your birthday but you were a little hurt by it, especially when the meal was his idea you just wanted a quiet night in together so you could spend as much time together before he went back on tour and you went back to work.

"Where have you been?" Jimin asked with a smirk as you walked through the door, dressed in a light pink cocktail dress that was knee-length, he looked you up and down before coming over to you, you moved out of the way making it look like you were going to the bathroom, you stared down at the floor.

"Work meal." You lied going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, stripping out of your dress and running the shower, stepping under the hot water and letting it melt your problems away.

"Shit." You heard Jimin yell before the bathroom door open and shut, you knew he was in the bathroom you heard him shuffling out of his clothes before he joined you inside of the shower and kissing your neck, you rolled your head back against his chest and he ran his hands up your body, sighing and kissing your ear.

"I'm sorry, I know it was my idea." You hummed and he span you around to face him, moving your wet hair from your face and kissing you.

"I'll make it up to you, I'll order us some food in and we can have the chill night you wanted in the first place." He promised, you giggled and kissed him again wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you.

"Let's do something else first." You said before dropping to your knees in front of him.

Taehyung:

You woke up and went down the stairs to find Tae with Jungkook they hadn't gone to bed last night you could tell by the energy drinks and empty coffee cups around the living room, you smiled at Jungkook who looked up to see you. Jungkook smiled back at you and pointed over at the gift bag near the kitchen for you, you made a mental note to look at it later and then went over to the front door,

"I've got work, I'll see you later." You said with an extra bounce in your step, you were always in a good mood whenever it was your birthday, it was just the way you were wired. Taehyung looked at the bag that Jungkook had pointed out and frowned, before going back to what they were doing. He didn't know why you were so giddy today but it was cute.

You got home from work and collapsed onto the sofa opposite to Jungkook and Taehyung who were still sat playing video games, you didn't blame them it was their month off and they were going to relax all they could,

"Rough day?" Jungkook asked you, you nodded and rolled onto your back looking up at the ceiling, he chuckled getting up and handing you the gift bag, Taehyung watched as you took out the card when reality hit him and he realised what was happening.

"What is it Hyung, you look like you've seen a ghost," Jungkook said, you sat up as you opened up the gift.

"He forgot my birthday." You said as if it wasn't a big deal but Tae looked like he was about to start crying, you looked up and walked over to him sitting with him on the sofa and leaning your head on his shoulder,

"How?" Jungkook said, you slapped his leg playfully and kissed Tae on the lips.

"Having him home is enough for me," You said as Taehyung relaxed against you,

"I'll make it up to you."

Jungkook

It wasn't a big deal when you woke up to no birthday messages from your birthday Jungkook, he was busy and you weren't a big fan of your birthday you didn't like to be the centre of attention and you didn't want to make a big thing out of something so small like your birthday but it seemed everyone else had remembered, your social media was being flooded by messages from Army and the other members, you put your phone away not wanting to see any of them but sending out a quick thank you before you did so.

Jungkook was practising the new choreography with Jimin when Taehyung walked into the room with gift bags, leaving them with Jungkook's stuff and coming over to both of them.

"How come you haven't tweeted out to Y/N Yet?" Taehyung asked as they both took a break to get some water, Jungkook frowned looking at him and then over at the bags, his eyes widening as soon as he realised what today was, he looked at his phone, his notifications filled with posts he was tagged in, he scrolled through everything seeing fan edits of you and him together and old photos of you as a baby.

"Go home," Jimin said to him, Jungkook rushed out of the room, grabbing the gifts from the boys and heading back to the apartment, trying to think of something he could say to you to make it up to you, but he had no excuses.

"I'm a bad boyfriend." He said as he walked into your arms, you were sat in the kitchen making a drink when he came in and you giggled at him, running your hands through his hair.

"Yes for hugging me when you're sweating, so gross." You groaned trying to push him away but he tightened his grip around you and made you stay with him.

"Kookie, you stink." You whined but he kept hold of you, whispering happy birthday over and over again into your ear, you groaned.

"What can I do to make it up to you." You pushed him away from you and for a second he thought you were mad at him until you started laughing.

"Go and take a shower! Then we can watch some movies or something, Jesus Kookie." You said pushing him towards the bathroom but he put all his weight onto you, causing you to stumble into the table behind you and making him laugh.

"Shower with me, then we will order something in and find some movies." He said to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

Tagline:

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @lovies-kpop-fan-fiction @snowy-meowl

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ciaraloves · 3 years

Text

where the arch meets

I have not read King of Scars so I do not know anything about the plot therefore some information about Nikolai could be outdated. This is also the first time I've ever written for this fandom so hopefully I did the characters justice. My friend and I watched S&B and were talking about ships and I said I wanted to see Kaz and Nikolai together which then prompted whatever the hell happened here, please enjoy!

CW: mentions of blood, mentions of gambling

There are no spoilers for the S&B show

masterlist; my links

[image has alt text]

Kaz stares out the window, a glum look on his usually stoic face. Ketterdam was alive, unusual joy spinning itself in the streets as the city busies itself for the arrival of the one and only King Nikolai Lantsov. The festivities of the "Peacekeeper" as he had been so lovingly named, had started three long days ago. Every day that Kaz wakes up to popping streamers, and the litany of ballads associated with the King's ever growing list accomplishments, is a day his stolen peace gets ripped from beneath him. He's not even sure why the King is so popular. He can't say he was anywhere near impressed enough at their brief meeting to warrant the five different ballads about those hazel eyes alone. Kaz looks down at the papers littering his desk, crow club books and bank statements for his various 'assets', communications between the various councils in Ravka and Ketterdam, and the most recent letter from Inej, smelling of the sea.

Their friendship is something of a mystery to the world but between them she is the rock that kept him steady. Even now, with her sailing the high seas content to her freedom, he can feel the unwavering quiet of her. Briefly, he wishes she were here. She would make him laugh, tell him to stop being so glum about the brown-eyed, blonde haired king if he insisted on doing nothing about it. He wouldn't let his amusement at her teasing show, but later in the safety of his room, this room, he'd let a rare smile show. He misses their quiet friendship most of all. But she is happy on her ship with her crew and he has shit to do. He always has shit to do.

The thought, stark and unwelcome, snaps him back to the present. A scowl replaces his faraway look as he shuts the window to the new round of baudy tunes drifting up and straight into the headache knocking at his skull. He sits back down harder than he intended, and winces at the pain that lances down his back and into his leg. He can hear Nina, chastising him for not putting on the salve, for not resting. But he doesn't have the time. He can't do something as normal as rest. He has a city to run. Or at least the underbelly of a city to run.

The statements stare at him but the numbers swirl like melting ice-cream in a bowl, and he wants to throw the pages in the fire in frustration. But he has never acted on emotion, and he will not start now. So he pushes away from his desk, cane already cool under his fingertips, and makes his way to the floors of the crow club.

The passage muffles the sounds of chips cluttering on a table, and glasses set down hard on the wood, and shouting when someone wins, loses, almost gets decked for supposed cheating. But as soon as he steps past the doors, nodding at the two guards he'd posted at this entrance, all of that chaos surrounds him. There is no hush as he steps into the room, no blanket of fear or anger or anything. They don't even know he is there. They won't until he makes himself known. Spending years with his Wraith had taught him some things, even with the click of his cane. He looks to the corner expecting to spot Jesper; his heart, as it had done every day since they had all parted ways, clenched upon seeing the empty space where his sharpshooter was supposed to be. The disappointment doesn't stop his eyes from travelling to the table closest to the kitchens— or as the Nina lovingly called it, the muck hut— where Wylan was usually hunched over notebooks or losing to just about everyone, except maybe Inej, in a game of cards.

He misses them. He'd never tell them, would never let it so much as flash across his face, but he couldn't stop his heart from the same onslaught. He felt it every day. Every time he looked to his window and Inej wasn't perched atop it. Every time he walked to the gambling tables and Jesper wasn't leaning over it, brown eyes shining with hope. Every time he wandered the corridors of the club hearing Wylan's flute. When he decides to put salve on it's because he hears Nina's voice, sees her frown, as she tries so hard to heal them. He even misses Matthias but that is a road he doesn't allow himself to go down. A failure he cannot yet acknowledge. His trip down memory lane ends abruptly when a man with a hood over his eyes, shadowing his face, steps up to him.

"You Kaz, Kaz Brekker?" The voice is rough, almost too rough, but the lilting accent is familiar. Before he can place it the man is talking again.

"I want to speak with you, about a deal."

Kaz tilts his head, resting gloved hands on his cane as he takes the figure in. "Liar."

The man sputters jerking back, and just briefly he catches a glimpse of golden skin and something shiny pinned to his coat. "It's urgent!" The man's voice is not so rough, and that accent, charming in a way, bleeds through more and more.

"I'm not available for deals." It is not true, but he wants to see how they'll react, what they're capable of if he says no.

"You'll like this one." The roughness has been replaced by arrogance. And the world opens wide for Kaz.

"Come," He turns, already limping towards the doors and his rooms beyond. "Don't say anything until we're behind closed doors"

It takes them exactly one minute and twelve seconds to get to his study. As soon as he hears the door click behind him, he lifts his cane and with brutal precision he rips through the clasp at the man's chest and watches the coat land in a heap on his wooden floor. Letting the crows head of his cane fall back into his hand he finally looks up. "What are you doing here King?" The question holds more exhaustion than he's willing to admit.

"What?" The King of Ravka grins, beautiful and bright and full of arrogance, "You aren't happy to see me?"

And Kaz wants to tell him no and piss off and leave me alone, but his heart is pounding and there is blood rushing between his ears and he doesn't really remember what breathing does, how it works. Because this is the first time he's ever seen Nikolai. When they met all those years ago he was Sturmhond, the privateer. Since then Kaz has only seen posters, and art. But none of them, not a single one, has ever done the king justice. He is........ he is magic.

"Oh come on," The blonde is laughing. It sounds like water. It sounds like peace. "You can't expect me to act like a stranger after all the letters we've sent." Yes, the letters. The updates King Nikolai had requested about Ketterdam, about the barrel, about the illegal smuggling of grisha to work as slaves. Those letters. "What?" The King looks at him speculatively, amusement sparking in his hazel eyes— they suit him so much better than the green of Sturmhond. "Volcra got your tongue?"

“Didn't know you would be in town," Kaz manages to grind out. He hopes it sounds like irritation and not infatuation.

"The six million posters and seven ballads about my adventures aboard the Kingfisher were not notice enough?" That grin is back. It is ruining him. "Oh dear, next time I'll be sure to add floating parades to the mix."

"That's tomorrow." He glowers. He doesn't think the blonde could get anymore insufferable. He is wrong.

"Do you have plans to attend then?"

He ignores the question, the tease. "What are you doing here Lantsov?"

"I'm here for the festival Mr, Brekker."

"I mean here." He motions to the room, to him. "What are you doing in the Barrel, in my club—" He wants to say 'in my room'. He catches himself.

"I came," Nikolai steps a little closer. There's still do much distance between them, practically an ocean, but Kaz can feel the tension wrapping around his lungs. He wants out. He wants closer. He wants, he wants, he wants....... "To visit a friend Mr Brekker. I don't exchange letters detailing my failed attempt at diving through the sky with just anyone." Oh saints he's going to die. He's never going to survive this. His face is a brick wall, a crack where his frown breaks through.

"You are a busy man King, busier even, than i am." He wants to applaud himself for the steadiness of his voice. "I doubt that you had time to just pop by. So what do you want, Nikolai?"

There is a flash of something in those beautiful eyes, and he wants to chase it to the ends of the earth. "Must we always have an ulterior motive?" The voice is quiet, but it is filled with curiosity and emotions Kaz doesn't have the ability to unpack. "Is it not good enough that I wanted to see you Kaz."

The Underboss of Ketterdam becomes a rain, becomes wind, and earth, and gold. He sits down on his desk, uninterested in the groan of the wood as it tries to carry his weight. Nikolai looks at him, soft and open, all that charm hidden- packed away for a moment far removed from this one. Somehow the distance has shrunk between them until there is only two steps, maybe three before their bodies can collide. He knows Nikolai would not come closer, but some part of him wants the king to try. Wants to see what would happen. He shoves that part so far down it got to hell before him.

"Say something," The blonde whispers.

"How long till they realize you've snuck off?" The bark of laughter that escapes the king is like jurda straight into his bloodstream.

"We have an hour tops."

"Let's go." He throws a new hood, midnight blue and embellished with golden thread, at him. It's his own. He doesn't have time to find another. Nikolai puts it on, fastening the small gold clasp at his front, and Kaz has to remind himself to breathe when he sees how beautiful those colours are against that golden skin. It looks a thousand times better on Nikolai than it ever had in him.

"Where are we off to then?" The blonde asks, his familiar charm steady through his features once more. "You're not intending to kidnap me and sell me to the highest bidder are you?" Before he can even start to ignore the question Nikolai is carrying on. "I have to tell you I won't make a very high bid. I seem to have botched myself a little when I turned into one of the Darkling's little pets. I think my di—"

"Shut up will you," He snaps, black eyes scanning the club as they walk through it.

"A little tense Mr Brekker," He can hear the grin. He doesn't know whether he wants to slap it or stare at it. He keeps walking.

They're outside and it's just started to drizzle and he has the brief thought that maybe he shouldn't be making the king of Ravka gallivant in the rain. But then he catches a glimpse of Nikolai's expression, full of wonder and glinting with excitement and he can't turn back even if he wants to.

"Kaz," Saints he loves the way the blonde says his name. "I really think it's better if I know where we're going, sake of safety and all that."

"We're going to the docks."

"You're not intending to drown me, are you?" There is no concern hidden behind the question, only delighted amusement.

"If I had intended to be rid of you Nikolai," Kaz turns his head, stares at the man, "I would have done it the second you walked into my club."

"Even though you didn't know it was me?"

It's his turn to smirk, and he revels in it. "I know everyone that comes into my club, King." The title reverberates in his throat. He catches the flash in the royal's eye.

"Why are you taking us to the docks?"

"I want to show you something, privateer." The strangled noise he hears in answer makes him force down the smile threatening to erupt.

The rain is at that awkward stage where it's more than a drizzle but less than a downpour. The kind that seeps into your clothes, makes your bones wet before you can even feel it on your skin. But they're almost there, he can see their destination clear in front of him. They are quiet, a rare thing for Nikolai he thinks, as they walk. Every now and then he glances to his companion who is always staring at the world in wonder. Like every corner produces a new kind of thrill. Like he'll be able to collect them all and bottle them for his journey home.

"Why are you staring at my pretty face?" The subject of his hidden amazement asks. "You've never been one to appreciate beauty Mr Brekker. If you did you'd have commented on my lovely violet wax seals at least once." He fights the urge to roll his eyes at that. The wax seals were the least interesting thing about the letters. He usually ripped them open like a mad man, clawing for the content inside and reading it as if it were going to disappear before he could get to the, 'fondly, Nikolai Lantsov' at the end.

"I have more interest in the contents inside."

At that the King does roll his eyes, "Oh yes, the ever so interesting reports about dock lookouts and safe grisha arrivals."

"It's my business."

"Mhm" Is all the blonde has to say.

They step onto the docks, and the tap of his cane, louder, more prominent on the wood, rings slightly in his ears. It's a comforting sound. One he has come to rely on to keep him steady. Especially when there's a king walking in stride with him, a king who kind of looks like the sun just before it disappears over the horizon. A king who scents his letters with lavender because he wants people to know calmness. A king who has never touched him but always stands close enough that he can feel the heat of him.

He recognizes the marker that tells him they're in the right place and then he motions for Nikolai to stay behind him. "Its small so we'll have to be close together." He says quietly.

"Are you okay with that?" The question is so gentle, so full of worry it almost buckles his knees.

"I'll manage."

"Kaz," He sounds hesitant, he sounds worried. "You don't have to force yourself to do something for me."

"I'm not, now come on before it disappears." And then they're stepping into an alcove only slightly bigger than a coffin and they're so close and there's so little air. But still Nikolai is not touching him and the leather of Kaz's gloves is warm against his skin. There is no part if him exposed to the elements, except his face. He takes one breath, takes two. The king is looking at him with concern, it is swimming in his features.

"Look up." Together they tilt their heads, and as the weak sunlight, bogged by rain, sinks to the floor the gems buried in the stones of the roof above them come ablaze. Crimson reds, and sapphire blues, and forest greens, and golden yellows. The light fractures and morphs and dances around them, like coloured stars.

He had discovered this wonder in a burning rage, trailing blood down the docks. He'd beaten up a man who betrayed their gang- dirty work for the boss- but half way down the docks he'd thought he was being followed and he slipped into this little alcove. He comes back every chance he gets.

"This is—" For once King Nikolai Lantsov is speechless. "How did you even find such a thing?" The hood had fallen off his head when he looked up so every angle of his face is on sharp display. The miserable lighting only made him more golden as if he was defying the weather simply by existing. And the gemstones reflected in his eyes, turning them every shade of rare rainbow. One of three Kaz had ever seen in Ketterdam.

He just raises a brow. "We should be getting back, I'm sure they've already sounded the alarm."

The blonde snorts, "They're used to it by now."

"Oh you sneak off to visit all your friends?" They step out carefully, making sure not to disturb the structure or get caught in the act.

"Feeling less special?"

"Wondering if maybe you should pay your guards more."

They bicker all the way back, about everything, trading wit and meaningless insults in equal measure. Kaz insists on dropping Nikolai off at his lodgings and Nikolai insists he doesn't have to despite leading them towards the building he's staying in. When they finally arrive, it is with a sense of longing for more that settles between them. More time, more laughter, more traded quips, just more.

"Goodbye Mr Brekker." The King bows his head.

"Nikolai." He nods.

"Come visit me in Ravka soon." It's the line he prints in every letter, no matter how far apart their replies are, or how many other things they have going on. Kaz never acknowledges it. He won't put that kind of hope into them. He must stay here. He must work.

But today, with happiness bubbling under his skin, he cant help but let loose a small smile and a dangerous promise. "I'll try."

And fading under the bustle of people is a small golden plaque on the floor of the alcove. "To those we love, and love unconditionally." A bigger promise, one that has lasted through time itself.

"That's all we can do Kaz," Nikolai smiles. "We try."

#Kaz x Nikolai #Nikolai x Kaz #Kaz Brekker/Nikolai Lantsov #grishaverse #The grisha trilogy #six of crows duology #shadow & bone #six of crows #Kaz Brekker #Nikolai Lantsov #TLYJ writes #soc #s&b

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if-you-built-yourself-a-myth · 3 years

Text

Check Ignition: Part IX

That Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts au that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

First part // Previous part // Next part

This fic is wrapping up and I love writing longform, so send me your new requests! (or ideas for oneshots, I love those too)

Robbe was ashamed to admit many of the things that made his apartment home. Here it was, the truth of it: everything here was in some way tainted by sickness. He didn’t talk about it while he was at school. He didn’t talk about school while he was here. It made sense to keep the two lives distinctly separate, save from a few consolation sessions with Jens and the occasional fact for Sander.

He bumped his shoulders on the narrow doorframe as he lugged his trunk inside, his mother right behind him. In the entryway, on a tiny side table, three bottles of prescription medication waited their arrival. Each had a sticky note designating the time of next dose. Past that, the hall led straight to a kitchen at its end. Three rooms—two bedrooms, one bathroom—broke off before then. Their living room branched from the kitchen, big enough for a couch and a flatscreen TV as well as a small-ish Christmas tree.

This apartment worked in a way that his friends’ magic-filled homes did not. Sure, when his father was around, they never did the dishes manually or resorted to blankets when the heating went out, but it wasn’t what Jens had. Perhaps that was why Robbe did not see Jens much over the holidays.

Robbe crossed the threshold to his bedroom and dropped his things on his bed. His thoughts returned, as they were wont to do, to Sander. Sander must be all alone at Hogwarts right now. Robbe didn’t know what to make of him.

“It’s Christmas,” said Robbe aloud to jar himself from that rabbit trail. He put away everything that mattered. Scattered everything that didn’t across the floor. There, now it felt like his dormitory at school.

Against his better judgement, he scrawled out something on a scrap of paper. Maybe if he could contact Sander, things would make more sense. Or maybe he was stupid. Either way. A simple tracking spell, an open window, and it would zip its way to its recipient at Hogwarts. He doubted he’d get in trouble for such a simple use of underage magic.

Happy Christmas. Sorry you have to spend it alone. Yeah, it totally didn’t sound sarcastic.

Robbe let the message go. He watched it disappear over the London skyline, dancing above the twinkling lights of the city. This view had nothing on the view from Hogwarts. After that, he was exhausted from exams week. He curled up on his mattress—the sheets on this one were a nice touch—and went right to sleep. There was time for life to happen tomorrow, and he didn’t fancy making conversation with his mother so soon into their two weeks of forced proximity.

***

Robbe spent most of the next days hiding out in his bedroom. Jens took care of his required communication rather early in their separation; the owl arrived at Robbe’s window before lunchtime the second day: Robbe, my parents invited Jana for Christmas dinner. She'd going to be there. Please inform me of your plans as soon as possible, so I can join you instead. Not really. I honestly think we're going to get back together. Wow, it sounds dumb as I write it. Have a Happy Christmas, if I don't write again before then, and make sure you eat all your vegetables. Love, Jens. Robbe hastily scrawled a reply and sent it right back: Jens, I never have any plans. You can come whenever you want to. Love, Robbe.

Around dinnertime on the fourth day, Robbe walked back into the hallway and down to the kitchen, where his mother poured hot chocolate powder in two mugs. She dumped a can of soup into a pot and set it to simmer on the burner, stirring occasionally, while she microwaved a measuring cup of water. Something rammed into the window at full force, startling her into dropping her spoon.

She put a hand on her forehead as if checking for fever. “Robbe, what was that?”

“Owl, Mom,” said Robbe. He tried not to be frustrated with her. There was just so much on his plate, and he wasn’t supposed to be here, because he was supposed to be with Sander at school. If Sander was doing okay.

Robbe’s mother had never gotten the hang of a magical household. Robbe didn’t have the right to be bitter about it.

“Should I open the window?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

His mother slid the window open. A barn owl flapped into the apartment building, despite their landlord’s explicit animal-of-any-kind prohibition. It landed on top of their refrigerator and ruffled its brown and white feathers. Clutched in its beak was a folded piece of parchment, tied with a long twine thread, sealed with a stamp of red wax. Robbe recognized the owl from the Hogwarts owlery. They were general-use.

He jumped up to take the note. Jens did not usually send two owls in one day. Aaron’s owl was white.

“I’ll never get used to that,” said his mother as the owl flew back out the window. An alarm on her cell phone beeped several times. “Oh, pills. I’ll be right back.” She rushed into the foyer.

Robbe surveyed the apartment in her absence. A sprig of mistletoe hung over the space connecting the kitchen to the living room. Several wrapped presents rested beneath the tree, one or two with his name in brightened cursive that he could see from this far away. He spotted the special picture ornament he made for his mother when he was little, the photograph of her and him riding on a swing in a public park. They used to get along.

He looked down at the paper in his hands and broke the seal.

There were no words written. Only a telephone number. Jens and Aaron did not have phones in their houses; muggle technology was useless in areas permeated with magic. Moyo owned one for clout purposes, sometimes, and this could be him—except, he did not use the school’s owls if he could help it. He borrowed from Jens.

That left one person who might want to contact Robbe.

“Alright, soup,” said his mother, reentering the kitchen. “Tonight, I was thinking we should catch up on TV. Honestly, I don’t know how you survive without it at Hogwarts.”

“There are other things to do,” said Robbe.

“Maybe, but not as exciting.” She took the soup pot from the burner and poured it into two bowls, which she then carried into the living room. They stored a small folding table under the couch. She set it up like a coffee table and left their bowls there. If they had any class, they might have the money to afford something made of wood, at least.

“Can I actually—” Robbe began. He gestured to the phone number.

“You’re spending your quality time with me,” said his mother. She patted the spot beside her on the couch. “C’mon. I’ve been recording everything. Oh, hang on.” She waited until he sat down to lean over. “What’s been going on at school. Tell me all about it. You never write.”

“You never got used to owls.”

“That’s an awful reason.”

“Nothing important happens,” he assured her. “I’d write if it mattered.”

“Nothing? No one special?”

“No, Mom, nothing you’d want to hear about.”

“You know I don’t believe that,” she said. “Handsome boy like you.” But she sat back and turned on the television. Christmastime here was TV shows, silence, dancing around one another. This was why Robbe would’ve liked to stay on campus with Sander, when Sander still wanted him there. If Sander ever wanted him there. They watched three whole episodes of Call the Midwife without saying a single word to each other.

Robbe’s mother was a good person. He knew she was a good person. She tried so hard to be things for him, to be involved in his life. He understood her illness wasn’t her fault at a basic level. He understood that he was wrong to be angry about an innocent, poking question that any parent would have likely posed.

But there was a part of him missing that she couldn’t give back after she’d taken it. What kind of parent leaves their fourteen-year-old in the house to care for everything while she lies in bed all summer? What kind of parent—

There was someone special, there was Sander. Sander and his mother were apart because they needed to be, because school and home did not mix.

Robbe rose from the couch during the credits of the third and motioned apologetically to his mother. He pointed toward the bathroom. On the way there, he snatched her phone from the kitchen counter. His fingers shook as he dialed the number.

Someone picked up on the second ring. “I just got home,” said Robbe. He didn’t know why he felt so bad about not calling sooner.

“You got my letter,” said Sander. Robbe’s heart turned into a dozen origami butterflies. He tried to catch them in a net and stomp them underfoot.

“Owls are cool,” Robbe said.

“How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Good.”

The line went silent. Was that it? Did Sander send a whole-ass latter to hear Robbe’s voice for two seconds? Kind of romantic, yes, but it didn’t do anything to fix anything. Robbe couldn’t reconcile the way Sander spoke to him with the way Sander acted around him, the way Sander acted around other people.

This could have been their time. Two whole weeks of kissing, or whatever it was couples did went they were unsupervised.

“Listen,” said Sander. “I’ve been thinking.” His sentences took on a sort of pregnant quality, as if each contained multitudes more within it. Sander was fighting down dozens of others to say each one.

“About what?”

“About, um, you. I guess.” Sander cleared his throat. “You really liked me?”

“I guess so.”

“How is—how’s your mother?”

Robbe didn’t know where something like that would come from. “She’s fine for now. We’re watching Call the Midwife.”

Sander’s laugh sounded forced. “My mother likes that too. Is it… not good to be there?”

“Well, she hasn’t drowned me in a bathtub yet. You sound like you have something to say.”

“I was thinking we could just—talk.”

What the hell was this? “Sander,” said Robbe, doing his very best to sound like a prefect. “It was a Christmas card. If you have something to say—” He tried to channel the voice Jens used when he was disappointed after a Quidditch match, the kind of steely cool that could only come from a place of care. As it was, he knew Sander could hear the hope festering beneath his skin. He wants to tell me he loves me.

“I—I don’t have anything to say,” said Sander, but it was an obvious lie.

“Then I’ll hang up.” Robbe braced himself against the bathroom counter. Polished marble reflected his face almost as clearly as the mirror ahead. “I said I didn’t want to be friends. I can’t handle being friends yet.”

“No, don’t hang up.”

“Any more questions about Mom?”

Sander’s breath caught. “You don’t like me.”

“Not this again.”

“No, really, you don’t.” Sander spoke faster. “You said so. I don’t know, when it was fake, I thought—” He coughed. “I can’t go back to nothing.”

“I said I liked you,” said Robbe. “You don’t make any sense.”

“Yes, but—”

“Did you really send an owl back to talk me out of a crush? Or are you in love with my mom?”

“No, I—”

“Good.” Robbe knocked his toothbrush cup off the sink, sending it clattering to the floor. He heard his mother shifting around in the living room, poised to come check on him any minute. This conversation would have to end sooner rather than later. “I have to go. If you’ve still got something, spit it out.”

There were a few seconds of silence. Robbe could hear the beginnings of a sentence several times, nothing quite reaching the air.

“Okay,” he said. “Goodbye.” He tapped the end button. That might have been a little harsh, yes, but it was Christmas. The couch and Call the Midwife awaited. He rejoined his mother in the living room, leaving her cell phone plugged into its charger beside their toaster.

They watched another whole episode. It pained him to think of her loitering about the house while he was gone, rearranging the cabinets and recording television shows, even if he hated the thought of staying with her more. He didn’t get Sander’s interest… come to think of it, Sander was concerned about her during their make-out session in the workshop.

The phone started ringing.

“I’ve got it,” said Robbe, before his mother could get off the couch. This time, he took it all the way to his bedroom and locked the door to answer it.

Sander was quieter this time. “You called the number.”

“It would have been rude not to. You didn’t sign it. It could have been anybody.”

“You knew who it was.”

There wasn’t much to say to that, so Robbe waited instead of responding. Sander filled the gap after a while, in something even smaller than a whisper, something that sent shivers down Robbe’s spine. “I miss you.” A whistle sounded somewhere in the distance.

Too much. Ugh, why did Robbe think he could handle something like this? He did what he always did when Sander was involved: he was honest. “Look, you don’t make any sense to me. I hear from Noor that you’re head-over-heels in love with me, I hear from you that you’re back with Britt. Well, you’re not, so I’m hearing you’re a liar, too.” Robbe bit his lip to keep from getting choked up. “We barely even had anything, Sander, but I loved every second. You can’t keep pulling on my strings, okay? I can’t handle it.”

“I don’t mean to be pulling,” said Sander. Something ruffled against the receiver. “Your mother, though, she—”

“Good, then don’t bother calling again unless you have something new to tell me. Goodbye.” Robbe smashed the end button this time, scratching the screen protector with his nail. He promised himself he’d fix it later, provided no one got him trouble for his magical Christmas card to Sander.

Back into the living room. His mother lay down across all the cushions and monopolized the space. She pulled a crocheted blanket across her legs, her eyes glassy as she stared at the TV. Robbe flashed back to his worst year again—getting up for school and seeing her there, unmoving.

The last Christmas they spent together, her medication mixture made her violently ill at the slightest hint of indigestion. That could happen this year, it could. There was too much going on in Robbe’s life to deal with her right now.

They’d make blueberry pancakes together. She’d microwave soup for dinner. This was his life.

The phone screen lit up once more with an incoming call from the number as before. Robbe let it ring out. Another came. When he let that ring, another. He answered on Sander’s fifth attempt.

“Please don't hang up this time. Your mother is sick,” blurted Sander on the other end, almost as if he read Robbe’s mind. If his speech was unhinged earlier, now it was a runaway train. “She’s sick and you hate her and I’m sick so you’ll hate me. That was it.” He took a deep breath and the phone line crackled—Hogwarts wouldn’t have the best reception, would it? “I have liked you for forever, okay? That’s my something new.”

Wow. Okay. What the fuck.

“What?” managed Robbe.

“That’s what I needed to say. Before. You don’t like me because you can’t. It has to be over because it can’t ever happen.” Sander’s voice lowered. “I thought it might hurt you less if you knew. But I also can't sit around and pretend that nothing's wrong.”

Robbe rehashed every conversation they ever had in a second. He did not talk about his mother much in any of those—he tried to keep her out of it. She frustrated him to no end. Her stupid pills, the stupid genetics that doomed him to a future of dealing with the same problems, his stupid father walking out. If it wasn’t for her, everything would be fine. But he didn’t—he didn’t hate her.

Why would Sander think he hated her? What was going on?

The library, the offhand comment on Lexapro. The workshop, how he said he didn’t want to return to her because she’d ruin Christmas. The way he referred to her on his and Sander’s second astronomy tower rendezvous: “sick in the head.” Every little thought he had about her.

“It was always going to be like this,” said Sander. Wind blew against his end of the phone; Robbe had to strain to hear most of the words. “I thought when it was fake, it could be okay, because, well, you know, but then you kissed me and I just—There’s no hiding it forever, is there? It's got to come out.”

“What did you say about my mom?” Robbe demanded.

“I stopped it because it isn't what you want.”

More than that. Britt came to Robbe in the astronomy tower with a slip of paper and a warning of sorts—He isn’t going to tell you. And what had Willem said to his friends, when Sander was asleep the day after they kissed? Was that something that just happened? Were there times that Willem couldn’t wake Sander up?

Robbe knew what that meant. Britt’s voice echoed in his head. It’s hard to tell between what he wants and what’s a symptom. He’d thought it controlling at the time, and it was, but he also understood the feeling. When you loved someone, you wanted to keep them safe. Robbe was a certified idiot. Puzzle pieces falling into place.

Sander did not slow down. “You were going to stay here with me to avoid being there with her. But we’re the same. We’ve always been the same. It’s bipolar, Robbe, and it’s fine that you don’t want it. What matters is that I can’t live with nothing from you, okay? We can’t just not talk.”

Robbe’s hand went numb from gripping the phone so hard.

“I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want you to hate me like you hate your mom.”

“I don’t hate my mom,” said Robbe. “I won’t hate you—don’t hate you.” He felt bewildered, standing in the middle of his living room, with this crisis happening a whole train ride away. What the fuck was going on? His mother raised her eyebrow at him from her position on the couch.

“You do, you said so. And you’d hate me. I didn’t want to upset you, I didn’t—” Something in the background blared, loud enough to mask the rest of Sander’s sentence. Wind? Rain?

“Where are you?” Robbe asked. Britt’s piece of paper—what did it say? He should have taken the time to set it aside, stupid stupid stupid—

“This was stupid,” said Sander, suddenly even more rushed. “I’m sorry. I should have sent another letter. I let Jens talk me into it—” Robbe waved his wand in the general direction of his bedroom—the Ministry of Magic could expel him for underage sorcery—and summoned Britt’s paper. Still a mess of cursive lines. Still blurry.

His mother made a face like, is everything okay? He nodded back.

“I’m putting too much on you,” Sander continued on the phone. “I don’t want to be another thing you have to worry about. That’s why it has to be over. We’re over. But I don’t want to never hear from you again. That’s not what I want.”

“Are you alright?” Robbe whispered.

“I’m fine. I’m, out--” Sander sounded a million miles away in a snowstorm. The end of the sentence got lost. "Moyo and Jens said you'd be here, and free, so...I'm in love with you. This is my something new." The line clicked dead, although Robbe couldn't tell if it was Sander's decision to end the call or fate had intervened. His arms dropped to his sides, the phone to the floor. Something sounded at the door to the apartment. A knock? Robbe remained rooted to the spot.

There wasn't a list he could put together for this situation. He did not hate his mother. Sometimes he hated her. He hated what her disorder did to her. He hated coming home and finding her somewhere, not doing anything, holding a glass of water without the will to bring it to her lips. He hated having to search all the cabinets for bowls when she reorganized their kitchen at three in the morning. Everything he said to Sander, he meant. Everything about her. That could be number one on the list. Number two, he loved Sander. Sometimes he convinced himself he didn't. He thought of his mother wasting away on their couch, lying about taking her pills, camping out on the bathroom floor during rough weeks. Home and school were supposed to be separate. He did not want to think of Sander throwing up blueberry pancakes after taking a handful of pills. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. He needed time to think.

The knocking came again, harder. Robbe walked over as if in a dream, barely touching the floor. He vaguely remembered Jens saying something in his letter about visiting, though this seemed short notice. He only said yes to the proposition because he knew Jens would never actually make good on the offer. Robbe opened the door to Sander, hair ruffled, eyes wild. Fucking Sander. What the fuck. Sander's brown roots were more visible than the bleach blond, even though they did not seem to be any longer. He wore the same leather jacket as their first date wrapped tight around his shoulders. In one hand, he held Moyo's broomstick— Robbe could recognize it by the scrapes on the wood. He had the same look on his face that he had that night in the dormitories when he was drunk and reaching out for Robbe. This wasn't happening. What the hell was happening?

"We need to talk to each other," said Sander, without pause for breath. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about everything, and I'll ruin anything else, I know I will, but you have to tell me we can."

#sobbe fanfic #wtfock #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #hogwarts au #fake dating #requested fic

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jihyuncompass · 3 years

Text

I’ll Be Home (To You) For Christmas

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you are all having a wonderful holiday (or just a wonderful day for those who don’t celebrate Christmas)

I wrote this fic as a Christmas present for my very beloved friend @sunshinejihyun. Getting to meet you and becoming your friend has been one of the greatest moments of this challenging year. And I am grateful every single day to have a friend as kind, smart, creative, passionate, and beautiful as you are. As Christmas approached I knew I had to give you something as a gift. So I hope a fic about one of your favorite boys suffices. I hope you enjoy this, and again. I love you Bryn, so much.

Summary: Kiro has been working more than overtime as of late. Still, he makes sure to spare some time this holidays for his special someone.

Kiro x MC

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: None

Kiro’s eyes shone brightly on the giant screen. I watched as the promo for his newest music video played over the large display screen at the mall. Shoppers moved around me as I watched him on the giant display screen. A couple other passersby also stopped to watch him, they also looked just as mesmerized as I did. I sighed, a mix of contentment and also sadness. While seeing Kiro’s face on a TV screen was not uncommon, seeing his face in person had become rare as of late.

A few weeks ago Kiro had been forced to start working more. His manager and producers wanted to release a Christmas album right on Christmas Day, about a week from now. Which meant that he was forced to work. At this point pretty much day and night, I couldn’t even really remember the last time I had seen his face in person. The last time I could recall was about a week ago, and had been just for a few minutes on a lunch break. Trying to make conversation with him over frenzied bites of lunch.

He texted whenever he could, but it just wasn't the same as seeing him in person. His texts couldn’t quite convery his smile, or his warmth. It tied me over, but not nearly enough.

As the promo ended I sighed again and kept walking through the mall. I came here in order to try and find the perfect gift for Kiro. A task that was much easier said than done. While I knew he would like anything I got him, I still wanted to get him something good.

Maybe I could make something for him? I wondered walking around an art store, maybe he would appreciate something from the heart? What would I even make for him? I knew how to knit, maybe I could make him a scarf or a sweater? Would he even like something like that?

Near the back of the store was a wall full of yarn. There seemed to be colors of all types, different textures and sizes. I was practically overwhelmed with yarn. My eyes scanned over the options. When you thought of Kiro I always thought of softer colors. Warm, like his smile.

I picked up a warm yellow yarn. It was soft to the touch, and the perfect color for Kiro. I smiled and grabbed the rest of the supplies that I knew I would need. As I took it to the register my fingers were already itching to start knitting.

Hurrying home I was practically running back to my apartment. I held the bag under my arm to keep it from being hit with the snow that fell from the sky. My nose burned from the cold, my fingers bright red as I walked home to my apartment.

My phone dinged as soon as I shut the front door. I dropped the bag of yarn down on the table and pulled out my phone from my shoulder bag. Kiro’s bright smiling face lit up the screen. I smiled, sitting down in a chair I answered his call.

“Kiro!” “Miss Chips!” Kiro said. “I managed to sneak a quick break so I wanted to call you!”

I leaned against the chair, a warm smile on my face. “How’s work going?”

“It’s going. We’re getting close to being done.” Kiro explained.

“Do you think you’ll be done before Christmas Eve so we can spend the holiday together?” Kiro was quiet on the other end. I tried not to make any sounds that could show I was a bit disappointed. I knew this was a possibility. There was still a good chance he would have to work.

“I’m not sure. I’m going to try though! I want to spend Christmas with you.” Kiro said. I bit my lip.

I looked at my bag of yarn and supplies sitting on the table. “Don’t push yourself Kiro, I don’t want you to hurt yourself!”

He hummed on the other end. “Don’t worry about me Miss Chips!” From Kiro’s end I heard a few sounds, someone opening a door and talking. “Ah I gotta go, they want me back in the studio.”

“You should get back in then?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk longer.” Kiro said apologetically.

I smiled, a bit sadly. “It’s all good Kiro. Go sing your heart out okay?”

“I will! Talk to you later!”

The phone disconnected before I could even say goodbye. I pulled the phone away from my ear. I held back another sigh, my eyes slid over to the bag of yarn again. Well, even if I couldn’t spend the holidays with him, I still wanted to have a gift to give him the next time I saw him, and hopefully, it’ll distract me from thinking too much about Kiro’s neverending work schedule.

I finished the sweater in the late evening on Christmas Eve. By the time I finished, my fingers were calloused and aching. Still, it was finished and that’s the most important part. I sat at my desk, back hunched as I wrote out a card to go with the gift.

In my tiny apartment I couldn’t fit an entire Christmas tree. So instead I settled for a small one that sat on my dining table. I wrapped it in twinkle lights and a few ornaments I had in storage. It wasn’t much, but it still managed to make me smile despite that.

After wrapping the git I set it under the small tree. As I sat back against the chair my eyes started to grow heavy. I’d woken up early to bake cookies and sweets, and finish the sweater. Now, I could feel my energy running out. I rubbed my eyes to stay awake. Not yet. I can’t sleep yet.

Wandering around the apartment I tried to find things to keep myself awake. I turned on the TV, maybe watching a movie would help? I kept myself on my feet, blinking heavily.

“Stay awake.” I whispered to myself. “Don’t go to sleep.”

A sharp knock at the door broke me out of my thoughts. I rubbed my eyes again and looked at the clock. It was already midnight, it must be Kiro right. Who else would drop by here at almost midnight on Christmas Eve?

“Hey!” Kiro grinned when I opened the door. Melting snowflakes clung to the ends of Kiro’s hair. A black guitar bag was strapped to his back. I grinned back and welcomed him inside.

“You managed to get out?”

He nodded and rubbed his freezing fingers together. “Yeah I managed to convince them to let me out for the night.” He faced me and was lightly bouncing on his heels to warm himself up. I took his hands in mine. His hands were ice cold, I held them tight to try and get him warm again.

“Just for the night?”

Kiro quietly sighed, exasperated. “I have to go back early tomorrow morning to finish everything.” Kiro seemed to notice the way my face fell, he frowned too then pulled his lips into a smile and squeezed my hands. “But you have me all night!”

I cocked my head to the side. “All night huh?”

Kiro laughed, his face flushing a little red. “I didn’t mean it like that! Unless, I mean if you want-”

I laughed, grinning at him. “I’m just joking Kiro.” I sighed and met his bright blue eyes. “I’m just so glad I can have time with you. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Kiro said. “But don’t worry, I have no plans for tonight other than being with you! I promise!” I led him further into the apartment and shut the door behind us. Kiro laughed at the small little tree on the dining table.

I followed behind him. “Hey I don’t have a lot of room here!” Kiro turned back.

“I didn’t say anything!” Kiro said. We both laughed, as I looked over his face, exhaustion seemed to be radiating off of him. While it wasn’t very obvious, up close I saw the heaviness under his eyes. Still, he looked like he was trying to force himself awake, he kept fidgeting and moving to try and keep himself moving.

The plate of Christmas cookies on the counter caught my eye. I had completely forgotten that I had left them there. I briefly let go of Kiro’s hand, I picked up the plate of cookies and turned back to Kiro. The moment that he saw the baked goods his face lit up like a child’s.

“I made these earlier!” You set the plate down on the dining table. Kiro reached to pick

up some of the cookies. He paused for a second then looked at me.

“Don’t tell Savin about this.” Kiro said. While his tone was humorous there was still a hint of seriousness there. I slid the plate closer to him.

“Savin’s not here. He doesn’t have to know a thing.” I winked at him. Kiro’s face broke into an even bigger grin. Kiro grabbed a gingerbread man on the plate, he held it up to bite the head off before you stopped him. “Kiro wait!”

He stopped, his face fell into a confused expression. “What? Why?”

I motioned to the cookies. “Look at them.” Kiro looked down at the gingerbread man in his hand. It only took a moment for his face to break into the biggest smile.

“Woah!” He lifted one of the cookies and held it up to his face. “You made a gingerbread me!” You nodded, Kiro looked between me and the little gingerbread man frosted to look like him. He lowered his arm and kept his eyes on the gingerbread man. “Man I kinda feel bad eating him.” He laughed, after another moment of looking at the Kiro-cookie he grabbed his phone from his back pocket. Making sure to snap a quick photo.

“Gotta keep the memory of little ginger-Kiro?”

He nodded. “Of course! He looks just like me after all!” Kiro set his phone down on the table. Taking one more good look at the gingerbread cookie. “I’m sorry little me, but you just look too good.” Kiro held back a chuckle and bit off the head of the cookie.

“Taste good?” I asked him.

“They taste perfect.” Kiro said. “Not that I would ever expect less from you.” I rolled my eyes. Kiro took another bite. “But they are really good. I think I might just need to have a couple more.” Kiro’s hand snuck towards the plate again.

I slid the plate to him again. “I made them for you! So have as many as you’d like.” Kiro picked up two cookies. Keeping one in his hand and giving me the other one. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at him when Kiro and I tapped our cookies together like a toast.

“Oh, I have a gift for you too!” I sat up straight. We’d moved to the couch by this point. Kiro looked over, half a cookie still sticking out from his lips.

“A gift?” Kiro said. His words were muffled by the cookie he was still chewing. I nodded as I got off the couch and went back to the dining table. Picking up the wrapped gift from under the small Christmas tree I walked back to the couch. Sliding under the blanket we’d thrown over our laps when we sat down.

Kiro’s bright blue eyes were glimmering as he took the gift into his hands. I pressed my lips together, both excited and nervous. “Well?” I said poking him. “Go on you can open it!”

He tore the wrapping paper open, pushing it away from the gift. He pulled out the sweater from the wrapping paper. His eyes were shining when he looked back at me.

“Did you make this?” Kiro asked. I nodded, he looked back to the sweater, running his fingers over the yarn.

I watched his face carefully as he stared at it. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

Kiro stood up from the couch. He took off his jacket and pulled the sweater over his head. He smoothed out the sweater and looked back up at you with a huge smile. “It’s so soft.” He said. “I love it.” He said, Kiro kneeled down on the couch in front of me. He brought me into a tight hug, my face being pressed into the softness of the sweater’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you liked it.” I said. Kiro pulled away enough to look at my face.

“Of course I love it!” Kiro looked down at the sweater again and couldn’t get the smile

off his face. “Okay, okay I have a gift for you too.” Kiro sat up straight.

“Kiro you didn’t have to!”

He shook his head as he got off the couch again. “I wanted to. Just wait there.” Kiro reached for his guitar case leaning against the wall by the front door. He set the case down on the floor and pulled his acoustic guitar from the case. Kiro sat down on the couch with his legs crossed. “I haven’t had a lot of time to myself while I’ve been working on this new album.” Kiro started. “But I wanted to give you something really special for Christmas, so during breaks and in between recording sessions I’ve been working on this for you.” He adjusted the guitar to sit in just the right spot.

His fingers strummed the guitar strings. His eyes slipped closed as he played, not even feeling a need to look down at his fingers on the strings. I pulled my legs up to my chest, my head on my knees as I focused entirely on him.

Kiro sang softer than he normally did for his performances. During those he always sang with high energy, always trying to seek the crowd's attention. Here though, his voice was gentle and warm. While he didn’t sing with the same energy, he sang with just as much passion. As he sang I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. My eyes traced the soft features of his face, the way his fingers moved across the guitar strings.

Even without his Evol I knew I couldn’t stop watching him, I wanted to take in everything about this, I wanted to commit every second of this to memory, to replay it in my mind over and over after this moment ends.

I hadn’t realized how breathless I was, or how tears were falling down my cheeks until Kiro played the last chord. His eyes opened slowly, he looked up expectantly wanting to see my expression.

“What’d you think?” He asked. His face fell when he saw the tears in my eyes. “Miss Chips?”

I took a couple shaky breaths and sniffled. “Kiro I-” I laughed trying to stop myself from getting even more emotional. “That was amazing. I-” I stopped again. Kiro put the guitar back in the case on the floor. He scooted closer and pulled me into another hug. This one tighter, warmer.

“This is the most special song I’ve written, it’s just for you too.” Kiro said. When he loosened his grip enough I leaned back to look at his face.

I kissed him, my hands resting on the side of his neck and his shoulder. Between kisses I whispered a “Thank you” over and over again. Kiro was smiling, his eyes glimmering like stars up close. “You know.” I whispered to him. “Being with you is the best Christmas present I could have ever gotten.”

Kiro smiled again and laughed gently. “Aw, I’m really the best gift?”

I nodded and kissed him again. “The very best.” I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder. The soft yarn tickling my nose. My eyes were growing heavier and staying shut when I closed them. “I’m so sorry Kiro, I think I might be all worn out.”

Kiro hummed. “Let’s get some sleep then. You don’t want to spend Christmas morning sleepy!” I hugged him tighter.

“But I only have tonight with you, and I don’t want to waste it sleeping.” I complained.

“We’ll still be together! Don’t stay up on my account okay?” Kiro said. I sighed.

“I guess you’re right.” I looked up at his face. At the dark lines under his eyes “Besides,

you look exhausted too. We could both probably use some sleep.” I said.

This time Kiro rested his head on my shoulder. “I guess I am kinda tired.”

“You look more than kinda.” I said running fingers through strands of golden hair. “Let’s go to bed Kiro.”

We stumbled our way to bed, both of us struggling to keep awake now. Kiro curled up under the covers still wearing his handmade sweater. I pulled the covers over us, with half lidded eyes Kiro reached out and took my arm.

“C’mon, come here.” Kiro whined quietly. I lied down, resting my head on his chest. My arm laying across his stomach. I could hear his heartbeat in my ears, a nice rhythm to make me drowsier. Kiro’s arm around my shoulder and back keeping me close to him.

“Goodnight Kiro.” I said. Hardly awake now. “I love you.”

Kiro was also barely awake when he responded. “I love you too Miss Chips.” Kiro took a long tired breath. “Merry Christmas.”

I managed a smile just before drifting off. “Merry Christmas Kiro.”

#mlqc #mr love queens choice #love and producer #mlqc kiro #mldd kiro #zhou qilou #kiro x mc #bryn #also bryn gets the honor of being the reason for my first full mlqc fic

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sparkleofpizza · 4 years

Text

The archer - Tim Drake x reader 7/?

A/n: I am back, finally. I can't believe how long it took for me to write this when it is mostly a filler part for what's coming next, but quarantine got me and I spent a very long time without feeling like writing, then I hurt my wrist and I couldn't type. But, hopefully, now I will be able to keep on writing again.

Requested: no

Warnings: smut mention

Taglist: @isthataladybag @the-fandom-ness @takoyakkun @caswinchester2000 @malfoys-demigod @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @ijustwannabecanadian

Summary: Y/n Queen will be living in the Wayne Manor for a while, and Dick Grayson decided to be the cupid between her and his little brother Tim Drake

Word count: 2.9k

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

The apartment was really quiet. In all honest, you don't think you've ever seen Oliver this quiet before, specially when you told him something important. Specially after you had ghosted him for nearly two days. You expected him to lecture you about safety, or to argue with you, not sit there, in silence.

You had asked him to come over to Tim's safe house, you didn't trust to have this kind of conversation with him at the manor - thinking you two would yell at each other. But there you were, sitting at the sofa, staring at your brother who sat across from you. The only sound present was the dishwasher working on the kitchen, Tim was out for patrol, so there was just the two of you there.

"Do you understand now, why I have to treat her like a villain?" Oliver asked, breaking the silence

"Yes, but I don't think you should. It's mom, Oliver."

"And yet she wanted you to become an assassin!"

Yes, he was right, she wanted you to become an assassin. But there must be an explanation for all of this, your mom couldn't just have become one of the bad guys! That meant so many things in your life was a lie, and you weren't ready to face it. It was too much happening all at once.

"I don't..." you shook your head "I don't want to give up on her just yet. Look how Emiko turned out?"

Oliver nodded, sighing in frustration.

"I know, y/n. But I don't want us to let our emotions get in the way if we have to stop her, we need to be prepared for the worst scenario."

Again, you knew he was right. You knew this was all too good to be truth, mom alive and hoping that everything would go back to the way it was, being a family.

You nodded your head, heaving a sight.

“So what are we going to do?”

“We’ll come up with a plan and we will get her, then after that, after... talking to her, we will decide what will happen.”

What a family reunion this is going to be.

“I can be the bait.” You suggested

Oliver glared at you and then at Dinah who had slightly moved her head in agreement.

“No. No one is being used as bait.”

You were all reunited at the batcave, Bruce had said you could use it for as long as you need and that they would help you with anything necessary.

Dinah, Emiko, Felicity and Diggle had came from Star City to discuss strategy and what to do from now on. Everyone staying at the manor, Bruce was really a nice guy, opening up his house to so many people.

You stared at Tim who was working on the batcomputer, sometimes stealing glances at you and smiling reassuringly at you. You wish he was sitting right beside you, but he had a big case to crack and you knew you could handle it with team Arrow. Still, it would be nice to have him by your side.

“Stop daydreaming about your boyfriend.” Emiko poked your side

You frowned at her “What makes you think I am daydreaming about him?”

“You were staring.”

You rolled your eyes at her “You were staring at Damian earlier too and I didn’t acuse you of daydreaming about him.”

Her face took different shades of red, glaring at you the way you knew your brother used when he was out on patrol. You smiled triumphantly at her as she scoffed and said it was bullshit. You giggled, throwing an arm over her shoulder and bringing her into a sided hug, one that she tried to fight but couldn’t because you knew she lacked this kind of affection from her mom, and she seeked that in you.

“So according to the data that Oliver managed to get, they will be in London this weekend.” Felicity informed, staring at the laptop in front of her

“Good.” Diggle nodded his head “We have some time to prepare, then.”

“We need to be at our best conditions, so this means no patrol while in town, we can’t risk it getting hurt before leaving.” Dinah said, giving Emiko a pointed look

“That’s not fair. You said I could patrol tonight!”

“Dinah is right. Beside, the bats got it covered, we should be worring about Star City.” Oliver shook his head “I called Roy and Arthemis, they said they will see what they can do to make sure the city is safe while we’re away.”

Soon, everyone started to leave the cave, allowing you, to finally go spend some time with your dear sweet boyfriend.

You stood behind him, watching whatever he was hacking into him. You lightly touched his shoulders, not to startle him, but you had a good idea that he already knew you were behind him.

“Haven’t you worked enough, already?” You asked, quietly not to disturb the calming silence

Tim sighted “Maybe. I do need to wake up early tomorrow, but I really not to finish this.”

You smiled, kissing his cheek “What do I need to do to make you go to bed and get some rest?”

“Sleep right next to me and cuddle?” He suggested, spinning around in the chair and caging you between his legs, hands pressed against his chest

“That sounds like a good deal.”

Tim nodded, smiling at you and stending up, still keeping you in his arms. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours.

“Let’s go to sleep.” He whispered, you nodded with your eyes closed, basking into his warm touch

He lead you out of the cave and into the manor. Keeping a hand at the small of your back, while he told you about the case he was working on and how Jason had been bugging him about it all day long.

“I swear I wanted to punch him.” He rambled, making you chuckle “Don’t laugh, I mean it.”

“I know you do, love.”

You pushed his barroom door open and stepped inside, turning on the lights. His room smelled faintly like coffee - probably because he thought it would be a good idea to get a coffee machine there, but it ended up with you and Alfred scolding him for being irresponsible.

Tim wandered to his closet with you trailing behind him, you grabbed a hoddie while he got sweatpants for him to sleep. You turned back to change your cloths into his hoddie.

“Is everything ok with you and Oliver?” He asked, entering the bathroom to brush his teeth

“Yes.” You sighted, grabbing the toothpaste “We are going to London this weekend.”

He nodded, brushing his teeth while he watched your expression on the mirror. You looked tired, and he knew you haven’t been sleeping well lately - you spent most of the nights together, while he was working on the computer you’d be lying in his bed, tossing and turning too much for someone who was having a good night sleep.

“I just want this to be over with as soon as possible.” You said after finishing brushing your teeth “But at the same time I don’t want it to be over because I am terrified of what I am going to face when I see my mom again.”

He nodded, kissing your temple.

“It’s going to be alright, pretty bird. You’re not alone in this.”

You smiled at him, clibing into bed right next to him. Tim pulled the covers on top of you both, and pulled you closer to his body, wrapping his arms around you.

“Try to get some sleep.” He kissed your forehead

“Goodnight, Timmy.” You mumbled

There was something about London that made you like the city quiete a lot. You haven been there so many times, only two. Once when you were still a child and your dad had a business meeting, he thought it would be a good idea to take with him, spend a couple more days than necessary. You enjoyed it a lot, it was one of your favorite memories with your dad.

Now, there you were back in town, but this time to deal with your villain mom who you didn't even know was alive. Well, maybe London will lose its magic once you realize that from now on you will be thinking of this town as a place where your family fell apart.

You watched Emiko and Damian discuss different types of blades and which occasion it was better to use them. You frowned. Weirds kids, why can't they talk about some cartoons or school? You hated the fact that they didn't acknowledge their childhood and instead acted like... this.

A cold hand fell on top of yours. You turned around watching Tim smile at you, you smiled back, placing your head on his shoulder.

"Is it weird that your first trip together is a mission with our family involved?" he questioned making you giggle

"Totally. But I don't think I would've even stepped a foot in the airport if it wasn't for you."

He kissed the top of your head.

"Do you want to go to your room?" he proposed, looking at Emiko and Damian on top of Damian's bed

"Tim Drake are you trying to get me into bed?" you wiggled your eyebrows at him, a playful smile on your lips

"To sleep, yes."

You nodded, standing up with him. You both didn't like very much room arrangements, you were sharing it with your sister and Tim was sharing it with Damian, but since both were busy in Tim's room, it wouldn't be weird if you both napped in yours.

You opened the bedroom door with your card key, letting it lock behind the both of you. You kicked your shoes off, unbuttoning your jeans to get rid of them, it would be very uncomfortable to sleep in them.

"Uh, what you're doing?" Tim asked, you looked over your shoulder to see him with wide eyes trying not to look at you

You giggled "Taking off my clothes so I can put on more comfortable ones? What did you think I was doing, Timmy?"

He groaned at your teasing voice and smile. Yes, of course you would tease him. You both have been a this weird teasing make out sessions mood ever since the day at the bar, but it haven't gone far than that because there was always something to interrupt them. And yes, it was killing him that all he wanted to do was to be with you and you kept teasing him, so of course, he teased you back, it was a restless war that you both couldn't wait to be over.

"Maybe going to take a nice and hot shower..." he trailed off, pulling at his sweater until it was lying on the floor, you stared at his chest then slowly your eyes were back at his face "But comfortable clothes sound very nice."

You frowned at him, he didn't have any clothes at your bedroom right now because you two weren't sharing it. Then a devious idea popped into your mind.

You took of your shirt, and then your bra, leaving yourself in just your panties. You went down to the floor, grabbing the sweater Tim had left fall there, not breaking eye contact as you put on his clothes. You watched him gulp as he stared at your body covered in his sweater.

You grinned at him, flopping yourself on top of the bed, patting the place next to you.

"Aren't you going to take a nap with me?"

Tim took a deep breath before lowering himself to the mattress and laying beside you. You moved yourself closer to his body, letting him drop his arm over your waist as you placed a hand on top of his chest.

"Now, this is nice."

You closed your eyes, enjoining your boyfriend's warmth, embracing the tiredness.

Now that you ara finally in London, the moment you're going to have to face your mom is closer than ever. You could still remember all of the memories you had with her, not believing that the same loving woman who had raised you until her last days was the same one that was part of such a bad and horrible organization, that she had did all that Talia had told you. You just couldn't wrap your mind around it.

What are you going to actually do when you see her? Talk? Hug? Yell? You had to be prepared, you couldn't just stand still staring at her. You're going to have a plan of action, you're going to have to be ready for this dreadful moment.

Oh, but how you wish Oliver is wrong and that his is mom.

You lifted your head from the pillow, watching Tim who had his eyes closed, but you knew weren't asleep.

"Why aren't you sleeping yet?" he asked you once he felt you shifting around, still not opening his eyes

"My mind won't shut up." you complained, letting your head fall back into the pillow, sighing heavily

He chuckled "Welcome to my world, pretty bird, this is way I always stay later than I should."

"Maybe we're spending too much time together." you joked

He squeezed your waist making you squeak.

"Tired of me already?"

"Never." you shook your head, laughing

You stared at Tim. He, now, had his eyes open and was looking at you. He looked so beautiful, with sleep clouding him and the soft smile he was giving you right now. You are so luck to be the one lying in this bed, with his arms around you. You couldn't imagine sharing a moment like this with anyone else but him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked quietly

You smiled "Just thinking about how cute you look when you're all soft and ready to sleep."

He leaned him, allowing his lips to touch yours briefly, in a sweet kiss. You touched his hair, tangling your fingers in it, it was so soft and you loved to put your hands there because you knew he enjoyed it too. He brought you in closer by the arm around your waist, pressing your chest together.

Soon enough, you were straddling his hips, full on make out session. Hands everywhere, touching every ounce of skin possible, shivers running down your spine every time Tim squeezed some part of you. Breath moans leaving your lips when he kissed down your neck.

And then, someone opened the bedroom door. Tim pushed you off of him, nearly knocking you out of bed, but luckily you found a way to stabilize yourself. He tried to cover his naked chest only to realize that you had stolen his sweater and that your clothes were scattered across the room, having fallen out of their original place on top of bed. This did not look good.

Emiko and Damian stood on the door, staring at the both of you. Cheeks flushed and mouths hung open.

"Oh my God." your sister muttered "I'm sorry, we didn't meant to..."

"What are you apologizing for? They are the ones who should be sorry." Damian frowned "We are here on a serious mission and you two are trying to get at each other like desperate beings, we do not need any more Drakes in the world."

You thought you couldn't feel more embarrassed than right now. You couldn't even look them in the eyes, this is so so bad. And the fact that Damian thought you and Tim were trying to have babies? Oh God, you cannot deal with this right now.

"We are going to order some... food." Emiko said, scowling backing away into the hallway "If you guys are hungry..."

She closed the door behind her, leaving you and Tim alone and in completely weird silence.

You kept staring at the closed door, still not believing your sister and Tim's brother had walked into you two making out on bed. This is so embarrassing, and frustrating.

"You don't think they are going to tell Oliver, do you?" Your boyfriend broke the silence, making you turn your head to look at him

"Hopefully not." you slid out of bed "I'm going to take a shower so I can try to forget that our siblings could've seen us naked doing something they shouldn't see us doing."

You grabbed some clothes out of your suitcase and headed towards the bathroom. Tim stayed laying in bed, watching you.

"It could've been worse." he said as you were about to close the door "It could've been Jason, Dick or Roy. Think about how much teasing we would have to go trough."

You wined just thinking about it. Hopefully, both Damian and Emiko would keep their mouths shut and this all could be avoided. The last thing you needed was to be teased by something that didn't even happen yet.

After you left the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to actually try to get some sleep or even go to Damian’s room and eat dinner with them. You opened the door to the bathroom, finding an empty spot in bed where Tim had been previously. You looked around the room, finding Emiko getting her suit out of her suitcase.

“We have to go.” She said, putting her suit in a hand backpack “They’re on the move.”

#tim drake #Tim Drake x reader #Tim Drake x you #Tim Drake x Y/n #Tim Drake imagine #Tim Drake fluff #Tim Drake headcanon #tim drake fanfic #Tim Drake oneshot #Red Robin x reader #Red Robin x you #Red Robin x y/n #Red Robin imagine #Red Robin headcanon #Red Robin oneshot #Oliver queen x reader #Damian Wayne x reader

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waywardfangirl · 4 years

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Write This Down

General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply

Baz Pitch/Simon Snow | 3,305 words | Complete

Summary: Inspired by Write This Down by George Strait - Baz and Simon love each other, and they know it. But, Baz came close to losing Simon once, and he doesn't intend to let that ever happen again.

***A big thank you to @foolofabookwyrm for editing this for me literally the second I finished writing it! I love you!!!***

Baz

The first time I told Simon I loved him, tears were pouring down both of our faces and we were absolutely miserable. It was one of the worst days of my life, and I hated the fact that every nice thing Simon and I have, every special moment and milestone in our disaster of a relationship, is marred in some way by tragedy. We kissed for the first time in the middle of a burning forest when I was so deep in the throes of self-hatred I couldn’t find my way out without Simon to save me. Instead of the honeymoon phase that every other couple gets, Simon and I received death and destruction and trauma, and then hearings and interrogations before the Coven. When we tried to go on vacation, to take a break and do something to pull Simon out of the pit of depression he had spiraled into, we almost died multiple times. When I finally propose to him I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that dark creatures can’t find us, the weather can’t ruin us, and even our well-meaning but nosy friends can’t disturb us.

But I’m getting too far ahead of myself. I can’t start planning for a proposal just yet, because I’m still not sure that I won’t lose him one day. He told me he loved me with tears streaming down his cheeks, and then he tried to break up with me.

I had started crying around that time too; I wanted to be in control, I wanted to shut off my emotions so Simon wouldn’t be hurt by my own anguish, but instead traitorous tears came streaming down my face and I started babbling out every thought I’d ever had – please don’t leave me and I’m not happy without you and no no no don’t go, Simon, please don’t and eventually I love you, I love you too, I love you so much, there’s nothing for me if you aren’t here, I love you. So, no, it was not one of our better moments.

Once I finally convinced him that breaking up with me would, in fact, not help me at all, we agreed to put serious effort into working on our relationship. This has also meant that both Simon and I found ourselves going to (separate) therapists, and coming together once a month for couple’s counseling too. Put together, we’re utilizing three-quarters of the magical word’s mental health resources. (It’s helping.)

(Read the rest on AO3, or under the cut)

I don’t know exactly what Simon discusses with his own therapist (although I could probably make a few guesses), but my therapist has been encouraging me to work on my own anxieties as of late among other things. I haven’t been able to shake my fear that Simon might decide to leave again, and that crying amidst declarations of love won’t fix things this time. So, since I can’t control the actions of others, I can only control what I think and do myself (yes, thank you Amy, the once-weekly sessions are working and I now hear your voice in my head when I evaluate my own thoughts), I’ve decided on a course of action that will help both Simon and myself.

I start by stealing his phone. He only uses the notes app to write down things he wants to bring up in therapy, so I ignore all the existing memos and start a new one, just three words – I love you.

(The numpty never bothered setting a passcode, I should modify his phone more often. He needs a new lock screen.)

Three days later, Simon emerges from his bedroom after his appointment, face blotchy and tear tracks drying on his cheeks. Every muscle in my body pulls to gather him up in my arms and give him shelter in the form of an embrace, but I know in moments like this I have to let him make the first move. Luckily, he walks straight over to where I’m putting the dishes away and immediately buries his face in my neck. His arms cinch around my waist, and I waste no time in pulling him closer to me, carding one hand through his curls.

“Alright, love?”

He nods, pressing in closer, then mumbles into my skin, “I love you.”

Ah. He found the note, then. Good.

“I love you too.”

*****

The next week, I walk into Simon and Penny’s apartment after classes, only to find Simon asleep on the couch. Netflix is playing some action movie on the tv, and Simon’s face is twitching slightly, still reacting to the sound even while fast asleep. I know he was up late last night preparing for a big presentation, so I let him rest. As I pull my laptop out of my bag to study at the kitchen table, I grab a sticky note as well, and attach it to the center of the television screen.

I love you

An hour later, I hear the tv shut off. Simon wanders into the kitchen, sitting down at the table and scooching his chair over until it’s pressed up next to mine. He kisses me on the cheek, and then on the mouth when I turn my head.

“Hi love, how was your day?”

“Good. Better now.”

*****

Finals are upon us, and of course the worst academic weeks of the year are also the time when Simon and I decide to try spending the night together again. (Just sleeping, but sharing each other’s space for that long, being there together when we wake up the next morning.) I feel like all of this should be so much easier, like other couples just make it look so effortless – we love each other, why can’t we show it? Why is it so hard to turn those emotions into actions and words? I don’t ever want to be beside anyone else, how can I prove that to him?

After the first few nights, it starts to feel normal. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the feeling of Snow’s arms wrapped around me, his muscles relaxing as we both fall asleep, but I don’t want to get used to it. I want it to be novel every single time, I always want to feel this in love with him.

Tonight, though, I can’t let myself lie down until I finish this last essay. I’ll edit it tomorrow, but I can’t stop writing until I’m done or I know I’ll lose momentum. Simon went to bed at least half an hour ago, and that’s all the incentive I need to keep my fingers flying across the keyboard; the sooner I’m done, the sooner I’ll be back beside him.

I close my laptop at half past midnight, and attempt to straighten the academic mess on the kitchen table before breakfast ruins a textbook tomorrow morning. Snow has left his books in a perilous heap, on the verge of teetering onto the floor, so I straighten the stack, then pick up the top book.

It’s a textbook, An Introduction to Social Services, because my brave and caring boyfriend wants to continue saving the world in any way he can. The first half of the book is filled with bookmarks and flags, highlighted passages and scribbled notes in the margins. He’s been attacking his studies with a vigor he’s never shown for academia before, and I’m so proud of him. I pick up a pen and add a note of my own under the practice review he’s flagged with tomorrow’s date (when did he get to be so organized? He’s wonderfully full of surprises even now) – You’re absolutely brilliant, love.

I leaf through the book to the next practice exam, this one flagged for three days from now. You’re the most caring man I’ve ever met, you were born for this work. The review in the middle of the book gets a simple (true) I’m so proud of you, and then I start leafing through the pages I assume Simon will be using next semester. I don’t let myself question the future, I don’t let uncertainty and anxiety creep in, I just write notes on random pages, to be discovered in the middle of lectures or homework or studying.

My darling

You’re the only sunshine I need

Have I told you lately how handsome you are?

I adore you

You’re my perfect other half, I’m so happy we match

Finally, I leave an index card mixed in with the ones he’s been using for review.

Q: How much do I love you?

A: More than I can possibly say.

*****

Simon Snow can still go off. He’s less physically destructive now, nothing in the flat gets burnt to a crisp and he doesn’t leave craters behind, but sometimes his emotions get stopped up until they come out in a flood of yelling and crying, and he erupts.

We’ve both been trying to be better about handling our outbursts, and trying not to take bad days out on the other, but sometimes it still happens. I don’t know exactly what happened today, but from what I can make out it seems like small things just piled up until I rolled my eyes when Simon suggested watching Star Wars, and that became the straw that broke the camel’s back. Old habits die hard, and we both still give as good as we get when fighting, so fifteen minutes later Penelope came home to find a screaming match in the living room and neither of us even aware of what we were saying or fighting over anymore.

She made us sit down and go through all the skills we’ve learned (use “I” statements, list your emotions, say what you admire about the other person – fine, thank you Amy, your voice is still in my head) until finally we had calmed down enough to be there for each other again.

I held Simon as he cried into my shirt, and we crawled into bed together still holding hands. We kissed before falling asleep and the last thing I remembered was Simon’s breath ghosting over me.

Now though, I’m awake, pulled from sleep and my boyfriend’s arms because I needed a glass of water, and I suddenly can’t stop reliving our argument. We’re fine, I know we are, we’re going to be okay. All couples fight, what matters is that we sat down and talked about it afterwards. We’re both sorry and we both love each other.

I can’t help the voice in the back of my head though, the voice that insists that Simon still thinks I don’t love him and that he might leave me again. I ignore it, then tell it how wrong it is, before finally giving in to my anxiety and tearing a blank piece of paper from the notepad on the fridge. I leave the note on his bedside table, so he’ll see it first thing in the morning, when he inevitably wakes up before I do.

Simon, my dearest, I love you so much. I promise, I love you, no matter what.

*****

“Baz! Did you get it?”

Simon Snow is bouncing on the soles of his feet like a toddler crossed with a golden retriever, and if anyone else were acting like this I would make a point of ignoring them, but because it’s Simon I just kiss him quickly and pull the book out from behind my back.

“Yes, love, I got it. Hot off the press, specially for you.”

Simon’s never been much of a reader, but after discovering ‘the best book in the world’, as he puts it, he’s been devouring this series. The newest one was released today, and I promised him I would pick it up from the bookstore on my way home. (I’ve read them too, and they are quite good, although Simon is definitely more enchanted with them than I am.)

“Can we start reading it right now?” He’s got it clutched to his chest like a child, and—no, that’s dangerous territory to enter, I can’t let myself start thinking of Simon with a baby or else I won’t leave this flat until I’ve proposed to him, and he deserves a nicer proposal than whatever happens to fall out of my mouth right now. Besides, I don’t even have the ring with me, it’s still hidden in my sock drawer back in Hampshire.

“Are you suggesting skipping dinner?” I hold up the bags of takeaway I’ve brought. He looks anguished.

“Can’t we do both?”

He’s a disaster. I love him.

“Alright you bottomless pit, you can eat your dinner and I’ll read to you, will that work?”

He kisses me again in response, a proper snog that’s only interrupted when Bunce wanders through to the kitchen, remarking loudly to Shepard, “They have their own room and everything, but they still insist on doing this sort of thing out here in the open.”

Simon good naturedly flips her off, and I pull away to smirk.

“He’s far too attractive for me to confine my affection to only one room in the house, Bunce. It’s not fair to expect me to restrain myself when my boyfriend is so criminally handsome.” I take Simon’s hand and tug him into the living room to settle against me as I start to read.

When all the food has been devoured and my voice is starting to lull Snow to sleep, I grab a scrap of paper, scribble I love you on it, and then insert it in the book to mark our place.

*****

Simon has been baking up a storm. He’s determined to figure out Cook Pritchard’s recipe for sour cherry scones, because she won’t give up the secret and he hates having to wait for Pitch family gatherings to eat them. He’s going through butter like a fiend, and all of our neighbors adore us because he keeps giving batches away.

When he leaves the kitchen to go retrieve something from his bedroom I slip a note into the fridge, to be discovered the next time he picks up the butter.

I love you

Three days later, I find the note affixed to the freezer door.

*****

“It’s so empty!”

Simon’s voice bounces off of the walls, and it almost echoes. The house really is empty, at once both exciting and intimidating – this is ours, this is where we get to keep building our life together, this is where we’ll make more memories, this is where we’ll start our family.

“The rest of our furniture will be here tomorrow, love, the movers said they could have it in before nine.”

I hear running footfalls, and then Simon comes sliding down the hall in his socks, crashing into me and almost knocking me over.

“Maybe we should keep it like this, and we can use the first floor for sock races!” He’s laughing, and so happy, and I adore him.

“Mmm, perhaps not,” I say, pushing his curls back from his face. “As enchanting as that idea may be, I expect you’d be sad if Penny and Shepard stopped visiting us because they had no place to sit. And I’m sure you would miss having a dining room table, too.” I kiss him on his nose, because it always makes him laugh, and then I lean back, grab his hands, and spin him around in circles in our empty living room.

Once we’re both too dizzy to stay standing, we collapse on the floor together, struggling to swallow our giggles. Eventually, I pull Simon back up to standing, and nudge him to start unpacking what we can. Dishes go in the cupboards, and sheets go in the linen closet. One of the boxes I open has a hammer and nails, and Simon finds the box that we put our pictures in. Some have to be set aside until the furniture is arranged, but we hang a few in the kitchen and the entry hall. Right before we blow up the inflatable mattress and go to sleep for the first time in our new house, I lead Simon back into the living room and pull out one last photo to hang.

The picture itself is quite large, a candid shot taken during our engagement party. Simon was laughing at something I’d just said, and he’s as bright and radiant as ever. I’m gazing adoringly at him, looking every bit the lovesick fool I am. Penny and Shep are in the background, along with Fiona and the rest of my immediate family, and everyone looks so happy to be celebrating the two of us. It’s one of my favorites, enlarged to sit in a frame over the mantle, where everyone who enters our home will be sure to see it.

It’s a bit of a struggle to get it to hang straight, but eventually we manage it.

“That looks lovely. I didn’t even know you’d had that one framed, I like it.”

I kiss his neck, and wrap my arms around his waist, hooking my chin over his shoulder and holding my wand out in front of him.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

We watch together as three words start to curve around our bodies in the portrait, shiny gold cursive tethering us to each other and stating simply, I love you.

Simon leans back into me, turning his face up for a kiss. “I love you too,” he whispers when we pull apart, “Show-off.” Then he’s walking backwards down the hall, leading me towards the stairs, and going to break his neck if he tries to go up the stairs without first turning around. I’ll tell him tomorrow that the spell I cast will only show those words if they’re true and if I still mean them. (They’re going to be there forever.)

*****

We go ring shopping together. We want our wedding rings to match, and to also complement the engagement rings we gave each other, so we block off an entire Saturday to find the perfect bands. (It turns out that the perfect rings are hiding in a jewelry store just a few blocks from Simon and Penny’s first apartment, which I think has a lovely symmetry to it.)

The rings themselves are simple, gold bands that compliment both of our complexions with a delicate scattering of engraved stars barely visible on the surface. We know immediately that these are our rings, we hardly need to glance at each other to confirm it.

As we’re being sized and filling out all the necessary information, I hand over a folded slip of paper.

“I would like this to be engraved on the inside of his ring, please.”

Simon’s mouth falls open for a moment, then he reaches into his jeans pocket to pull out his own slip of paper.

“I’d like this engraved inside of his too, please,” he says, and I can’t help but loop my arm around his waist.

“I suppose great minds think alike, don’t they Snow?”

He wrinkles his nose.

“You’re going to have to start calling me Pitch before too much longer, you know.”

I wasn’t prepared for this argument, and I’m far too in love with him to have a satisfactory response ready.

“No I won’t. Pitch will be your last name, and Snow will become your middle name. You call me by my middle name already, so we’ll match,” I add, as a happy afterthought.

The jeweler chuckles.

“You really do. You want the same engraving and everything.”

I feel like he maybe should have understood that those messages were meant to be a surprise, given Snow’s obvious shock, and the folded pieces of paper, but I’m a little too happy to care. Our wedding rings are going to match, inscription and all.

I love you

#Write This Down #my fic #snowbaz #snowbaz fic #Write This Down Fic #this is just self-indulgent fluff

16 notes · View notes

hms-chill · 4 years

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Mother’s Day

Summary: Six snapshots of three Mother's days across the years.

2005, Edinburgh, Scotland Henry's got his mum's hand in one of his and a massive picnic basket he'd insisted he could carry in the other. Bea and Philip have run ahead, and Henry's starting to envy their freedom, but he refuses to make their mum carry a picnic basket on a day that's supposed to be all about looking after her. But then he feels a hand in his hair, and another taking the basket for him, and he turns to see his dad, an easy grin on his face and his guitar slung over his back. "Look at you, all grown up and helping your mum. Were you good for her today?" Henry beams. Arthur's been out on a set for hours; he's still got bits of makeup on his face and some product in his hair. Henry thinks it makes him look like a superhero. "I was really, really good!" "Is that right? Cat, was Henry really, really good today?"

"He was," Catherine says, grinning. "All three of them have been wonderful. They were all big helps getting things ready for our picnic."

Henry grins, and newly freed of the weight of the picnic basket, he runs up to join Philip and Bea while his parents share a kiss above his head. Catherine calls to them to stay within eyesight as the family make their way out of Holyrood and up toward Arthur's Seat. The kids fall back a bit as it gets steeper and they get tired, but they make it to the top of the Salisbury Crags and Arthur lays out their picnic while the kids pick flowers, Bea and Philip handing their considerably larger boquetes to Henry so that he can be the one to present them to their mum. After dinner, Arthur gets out his guitar and plays, cycling through some of Catherine's favorites and teaching the kids "Loch Lomond" so they'll be ready when they visit the loch tomorrow. As it starts to get darker, they pack up and finish the climb to the top of Arthur's Seat, and Bea takes pictures of their parents, then a PPO takes pictures of their family as the sun sets behind them, and Henry is so happy he can hardly believe it. 2005, Washington, DC Alex is awake first, and for a second, he's not sure where he is. It's brighter than his bedroom, with whiter walls and a window without any real curtains yet. But then he rolls over, and June is still asleep in a twin bed across the room, and the cars outside are too loud, and it all comes back. They're in Washington, DC. They're visiting their parents for Mother's Day, and they're going to see all the places they work, but first, he and June have something planned. He hops out of his bed and into hers, shaking her awake despite her grumbles. "June! June, June, June. Get up, get up, get up. We have to make breakfast!" Their dad has promised to help them if they need it, but Alex and June decided last night that, at eight and eleven, they're grown up enough to do it themselves. Alex has been helping his dad pour and flip pancakes since he could reach the griddle, and June's been sitting on the counter pushing oranges into a juicer for as long as he can remember. Between the two of them, surely they can put something together. When Oscar comes in, he finds the kids in the middle of a whispered, but very heated, discussion about what exactly the instructions on the side of the box mean. They're both furiously mixing their own pancake batter in different bowls. June's looks better, but Alex refuses to give up. Oscar just laughs, and he helps fix Alex's so that it looks right, and then Alex shapes and flips pancakes while June makes orange juice and Oscar makes bacon and coffee. June finds a tray and she puts a yellow rose on one corner to make it look pretty. Once everything is assembled, Oscar disappears upstairs to make sure Ellen is actually in bed when the kids come to "wake her up" with breakfast in bed. She's been awake for a few hours at least, answering emails and drafting meeting agendas, but she can climb back into bed and let the kids think they've surprised her. Oscar snaps a picture of the three of them, Ellen grinning with a kid under each arm and the breakfast laid out in front of her, and it all feels perfect. 2020, London, England

Mother's Day is rainy, but that feels right. Henry writes a card for his mum, and they all have lunch together, but it's not right. Mother's Day used to be a day Arthur would always make sure he wasn't working, and he'd plan them something fun and exciting to do. But now, Catherine doesn't want to visit the London Eye or go to Holyrood or even take them to the V&A. She just wants to have a nice family lunch, so they have one, and Henry takes the barbs from Philip and his gran so that he doesn't ruin things for his mum. She wants them to get along for the day, so he doesn't fight back. He sits, and he's civil when Philip suggests casually that the public might be excited about a new royal suitor, and how great it would be for their public image if either Henry or Bea started dating. Henry sits quietly while his gran hints that he's been taking a bit too long to decide what to do with himself, and Philip all but outright says that he should be enlisting soon. He sits, and he eats his food, and he resists every urge to fight back or argue.

But after lunch, when their mum's back in her room and Philip is headed back to Anmer, Henry and Bea find their way to the music room. Bea gets her guitar, plucking out a few chords of "Loch Lomond" as Henry settles on the other end of the sofa with his phone. She hums what should be the lyrics "I'll be in Scotland afore you/ but me and my true love will never meet again", and Henry pretends he doesn't know the words. A few minutes of quiet chords later, he looks up from his phone to say, "hey, Bea? Happy Mother's Day. I... I know you didn't really ask for any of this, but I'm... you've been sort of a mum for me for the past few years, and I... I really appreciate it. I love you."

She puts down the guitar to hug him, and he asks, "do you think Mum will get better?"

"I'm... I'm not sure. I hope so. But we've got each other, alright? Whatever happens."

He nods, and that night, they sneak out together to eat Jaffa cakes and Cornettos in a courtyard outside the V&A. Bea brings her guitar, and she plays their parents' favorites, and Henry hopes that wherever their dad is, he's doing something special to help their mom feel loved.

2020, Washington, DC

Alex and June are planning on a traditional Mother's Day, one where they make their mom breakfast and she pretends to be surprised. But Alex is mid-pancake when Ellen appears in the kitchen to grab a muffin and tell them both she loves them and she's sorry, but something's come up and she's got to take a video call. She'll be ready for breakfast as soon as she can be, and she'll meet them when she can.

After an hour, Alex and June eat cold pancakes with warm orange juice alone. June's trying to be happy, but her mouth is doing that thing it does when she's disappointed, but not surprised. Alex is used to that look being directed at him after ignored texts and too-late nights. But it's Mother's Day, and they should be happy, even if their mom is busy. So he picks off the thorns and tucks the yellow rose behind her ear, then he steals her coffee and pancakes to put them on the tray and carry everything out to the Truman Balcony, June following him with half-hearted complaints. When their mom and Leo join them half an hour later, they've saved some pancakes and juice, and Ellen gets to spend at least half an hour as a mom before she's called back to the presidency, Leo promising her a nice dinner if she can find time in her schedule.

At least it's better than last year. Last year, Ellen had been pulled away from breakfast the moment she'd sat down and had been busy for the rest of the day. June had been upset for the rest of the day, and Alex had had to try and keep her company, at least, and the whole day had been hard. Mother's Day has been hard for the past few years, more about finding a semblance of family time than about actually celebrating their mom. But they've found some time today, and June's still smiling, and Leo looks proud and their mom doesn't seem to stressed. So, all in all, it could be worse.

2025, London, England

Tradition demands that they invite Mary to their Mother's Day brunch, so she is invited. She comes, and Alex thinks it might just be to spite them. But after the brunch, she's complaining about her joints. She goes back to Buckingham, and the Fox-Mountchirsten-Windsor children are urging them all into a van, sharing conspiratorial glances and grins as Philip talks to a driver and Bea pulls out a blindfold.

"Mum, we've got a surprise, so we're going to blindfold you after a bit, alright?" Catherine laughs and agrees, and Alex looks at Martha, who looks just as surprised as he is. Philip reveals a blindfold for her, too, arguing that since she's pregnant, she's technically a mother and deserves to be celebrated as one. Catherine agrees immediately, grinning at Martha. So, an hour and a half later, the moms are being blindfolded, but Alex is free to look out the window as the ban pulls into a small seaside town. They drive through it, stopping to park near a beach. Henry takes his mom's hands and Philip takes Martha's as Bea hands Alex a picnic basket, and they make their way to a picnic table on the beach before the blindfolds are removed. Catherine sees the picnic basket, and she grins.

"We... We thought maybe we could go for a hike, since that's what we always did growing up," Henry says.

“It’s not a long one, but Mazzy, if you’re not feeling up for it we’ll stay in town and enjoy the beach, or we can only go part way,” Philip says.

“Happy mother’s day, Mum. It… it’s good to have you back, and we love you,” Bea tells her.

"And you too, Martha. You're the best decision Philip ever made," Henry says, and Philip nods, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her cheek, then the baby bump just starting to make an appearance against her shirt. They have a happy lunch, one where they're not all being careful to do things just right or keep an uptight grandmother happy. Then, Martha feels alright to hike, so she and Philip join them. They take things slowly, resting at a halfway point for Bea to play guitar and the six of them to take a break, Philip making sure Martha's doing alright and Henry passing out some of the treats Alex's family sent with him. And it's good. It's really, really good.

2025, Austin, Texas

Alex wakes up early on Mother's Day in his childhood home, wrapped around Henry in a bed that's probably too small for the two of them to share. He can hear June's alarm from across the hall, and he knows it's time. He presses a kiss to Henry's forehead, then gets up and meets June in the hall, both grinning. This is the first Mother’s Day where they get Regular Mom instead of President Mom, and they’re going to make it the best Mother’s Day yet.

Breakfast is routine by now; Alex starts pancake batter while June squeezes orange juice, then moves on to cooking eggs and bacon as Alex flips pancakes on the griddle. Henry wanders into the kitchen, talking on the phone as he wraps his arms around Alex. The coffee's ready, and there are three stacks of pancakes: blueberry, chocolate chip, and plain. Their mom will take one of each, and Leo will refuse anything but plain while Alex takes chocolate and June does blueberry. Alex wonders which one Henry will pick, thrilled that his boyfriend gets to join them. He's not sure who decided that England and the US should have different Mother's Days, but he's glad.

"Good morning," Henry says, hanging up and pressing a kiss to Alex's forehead.

"Morning. Things going alright at the shelter?" Henry's arranged to have moms who can't be with their kids visit the youth shelter today, to love the kids a little extra and get loved themselves. He’s left Pez in charge of it, and apparently, it’s all off to a good start.

When breakfast is ready, June brings over the tray with servings of eggs, bacon, juice, and coffee, complete with the yellow rose. Alex adds a plate of their mom's favorite pancakes, then he and Henry grab the rest of the food and bring it to their mom's room, where it's been Leo's job to make sure she actually relaxes this morning. She'd jumped into charity work the minute she left office, and they've all agreed she deserves to take a break for once. She doesn't know it, but she and Leo are going on vacation tomorrow, and he and the kids are refusing to let her bring any work with her. She’s been working for eight years straight; she deserves to relax for a bit.

She pretends to be surprised about the breakfast as the kids find spots around the room to settle down so they can eat together. Ellen's relaxed for the first Mother's Day in eight years, and she's going to spend the whole day with them for the first time in ages, if ever. They're planning on a day in, full of card and board games. Alex is going to help her grill for dinner, and they've all made a pact not to wear anything but pajamas all day. And, for the first time since she was president, Alex is convinced it's going to be a good Mother's Day.

On AO3

Notes:

Earlier today, I was like "yeah I kinda want to write a parent fic but I don't know", and then the discord chat (especially Gina over at @saltfics) was like "DO IT" and so I ignored my final essay and did this instead. -

Want to support the Hannah Makes Art fund? You can tip me a ko-fi here!

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #rwrb fic #my fic: rwrb #firstprince

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harrys-kiwi · 4 years

Text

don’t leave like this

summary: when (y/n) can’t cope with Bucky going back on missions after he was hurt on his last one, the pair gets into a fight the night before Bucky is set to leave.

request: Hey! Just Stop was so good! Amazing job, lovely! X could I request a Bucky x Reader where she lives at her own apartment and has a panic attack because of a mission that Bucky plans on going on and it’s super dangerous so she stumbles to the tower to see him and he calms her down (tho it takes ages!) and he chooses to not go on the mission? Seeing the girl he’s so close with so upset made him change his mind? Thank you so much!!!. Xx

category and warnings: fluffy in the beginning, then angst! mentions of injury and a light panic attack.

authors note: sorry for disappearing. I promise I will get to your requests soon, for now requests are closed. would you mind checking out my masterlist? thank you for your support and feedback :)

word count: 3.2k

Pacing up and down her living room, (y/n) decides that she needs to calm down. Unless she calms down, she thinks, she wont be able to come up with a reasonable, sound argument as to why Bucky needs to stay home tomorrow. It would be a tough case to argue, but she thinks she can do it. She watched all seven seasons of Suits and even helped her friend study for a test in her advanced negotiation class, for crying out loud. This should be a walk in the park.

She checks the timer on the oven one more time, making sure that the scent of apple pie will be wafting through the air by the time Bucky walks into her apartment. Walking toward the large mirror in the hallway, she checks her dress, straightening it out and making sure it’s sitting properly. It was the cutest navy casual 40s dress - sans the ruffles. She wanted to bring him back to the 40s - but one, it couldn’t be too obvious and two, she hated ruffles. She knew that Bucky missed the decade, so she would use his nostalgia for his pre-soldier days to her advantage.

The doorbell rang, and (y/n) made her way to the door. Opening it with the largest smile she could wear without looking cheesy, she saw her super soldier leaning against the door frame. Upon seeing her, he raised his eyebrows and whistled lowly as his eyes looked her up and down.

“Hello mama,” he flirted, grabbing her hand and raising it over her head so she would give him a little twirl. She obliged, blush spreading over her cheeks as he continued lowly, “look at you.” He lowered her hand to his mouth, giving it a gentle kiss before pulling her to him and planting a firm kiss to her lips. He pulled away ever so slightly and took a deep breath, “what is that smell?” (y/n) smiled against his lips, feeling very much accomplished already.

“Apple pie. I tried this new recipe I got from the bakery down the road.” She mused, biting her lip as he knitted his eyebrows upward, bringing his hand up to his chest.

“What did I ever do to deserve you!” He sighed. She smiled to herself; she had him right where she wanted him.

“Well, you haven’t done anything yet,” she said, leading him toward the kitchen, “but there is something you can do.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“You could stay with me tonight.” She bit her lip.

He chuckled lightly, walking up to where she stood against the counter and lifted her up so she was sitting on it instead. “And how would that work, Doll? You gonna wake me up at four in the morning so I get to the tower in time for briefing and take off?”

She grabbed his hands that were resting against her thighs, and threaded their fingers together. “Well,” she drew out the word, biting her lip and looking up at him with big doe eyes, “you could always spend tomorrow with me too.” She smiled shyly.

Bucky held back his laughter. He leaned in to kiss her pouted lips instead. “I love you,” he mumbled, kissing her again, “but no.”

(y/n)’s face scrunched up. “No?” Bucky let go of her hands, moving to the other side of the counter. “What do you mean no?”

He sighed contently, turning to the oven. “This pie should be just about done, right?”

“Baby, why won’t you stay with me?”

“I mean, it smells ready alright-“

“Buck!”

“And then it has to cool for another ten minutes anyway. So we should just take it out now.”

“Stop ignoring me!” The girl whined, feeling her plan shattering. At that, the timer went off and Bucky’s smile got even larger than it was before.

“I knew it was ready!” He grabbed a pair of oven mitts, taking out the pan carefully and setting it on the counter. Closing the oven door and discarding the mitts, he turned to face his girlfriend, who was giving him a sour glare, arms crossed in front of her chest. Bucky inwardly laughed, noting how much she looked like a kid who’s parents had denied her request for a new toy.

“Bucky…” she warned, narrowing her eyes at him. He sighed, walking over to her and throwing her over his shoulder, making his way to her bedroom. She squealed and hit his back, “put me down!”

He placed her onto the bed, throwing off his jacket and crawling on top of her. He placed gentle kisses all over her face, much to her disapproval.

“Um hello, does it look like I’m in the mood to sleep with you right now?” She sassed.

“Why else would you have invited me over? Thought I was here to claim my goodbye present, maybe a slice of pie, and then leave?” He teased. (y/n) narrowed her eyes at him, trying to keep her composed exterior. Channel Harvey Specter, (y/n), come on.

She pushed against his chest, letting him fall against the mattress as she straddled him quickly. “Mr. Barnes, I’m afraid the sex-and-pie offer is a two-day deal only. Unless you are prepared to spend the night and the entirety of tomorrow right here, we have no deal.”

Bucky smiled up at his girl, tapping her butt as he feigned contemplation of the deal. “Well I guess we had sex yesterday, that should keep me going for a few more days. And there’s pie at the bakery down the street you mentioned. I guess that’s no deal then.” (y/n) stared down at him, completely unimpressed.

“What is wrong with you.” She said, getting up to go back to the kitchen, but Bucky pulled her back on top of him, laughing loudly as she planted her hands on his chest.

“Hey now who told you to get up? I like seeing you up there.” He winked.

“Buck, come on, be serious,” she whined, “why do you want to go on that mission so desperately?”

“Doll, you know this is the first proper mission they’re letting me go on since Trujillo. Don’t you want your poor old boyfriend to have some fun again?” He asked, rubbing circles into her hips.

“I want my poor old boyfriend in one piece.” her eyebrows furrowed, breaking their eye contact as she looked down at where her hands still rested on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. “Or did all the morphine make you forget what happened in Trujillo? Why you weren’t allowed on missions in the first place?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten, sweetheart. Which is why it can’t happen again, I’ve learned from my mistakes on that mission now. Besides, tomorrow isn’t gonna be anywhere near as dangerous.”

“But Bucky!” She cried, throwing her hands up in the air and swallowing thickly, trying not to cry from frustration and worry. “I don’t even know how long you’ll be gone for! And we’re not allowed to communicate during the entire time, how am i supposed to know how you’re doing? If you’re injured? Trujillo was such a close call baby, how can i ever let you go on a mission again without fearing the worst the whole time you’re there? I know for you it’s all adrenaline and you have the super serum to protect you, but that doesn’t make you immortal, Buck!”

Sometime during her rant, Bucky had sat up and leaned against the headboard, wiping away some of her tears that had fallen without her realizing it. When she had finished talking and was trying to steady her breathing, he grabbed the back of her knees to pull her toward him so that there would be no space between them. He pulled back her hair into a ponytail, securing it with an elastic he had around his wrist. When she had calmed down, breathing steady and eyes no longer wet with tears, Bucky spoke up.

“My sweet girl, I know this must be scary for you. I agree that the circumstances during the mission aren’t ideal. But this is what makes me happy! This is the job I chose, and if I were to decline this mission then I wouldn’t be a man of my word.” Bucky cupped her face, running a thumb over her quivering bottom lip. “I can promise you, everything will be alright, and I will be back in your arms before you know it.”

(y/n) let out a sob, admitting defeat: Bucky wouldn’t stay. “You can’t promise me that though.” Her voice was strained, and he could tell she was trying to remain composed. He reached toward her to try and wipe away her tears, but she pulled her head back and hid behind her hands instead. Bucky went to wrap her in his embrace knowing that always helped her calm down, but she refused and got up from his lap altogether. She stumbled toward her bathroom, closing the door and turning on the faucet. God, she had never felt so helpless and desperate before. She rubbed the cold water on her face for a few seconds, before turning off the faucet and wiping her skin dry. Grabbing a tissue, she blew her nose and sat on the toilet seat with her elbows resting on her knees and her head cradled in her hands. Her eyes were closed as she tried to steady her breathing, so caught up in trying to calm herself down that she almost missed the sound of a knock on the door. It opened gently, and Bucky came into her view as he kneeled down in front her.

Grabbing her hands and pressing gentle kisses to them, he mumbled apologies over and over. (y/n) almost started crying again at the thought of losing this. “Bucky, please. I’ve laid all my cards on the table; I’ve literally spent the last ten minutes crying and begging you to stay with me. Are you even considering it?”

Bucky swallowed harshly before shaking his head no. (y/n) shifted her gaze to the ceiling, blinking back tears. She took a deep breath, “Then you should go now.”

Bucky’s heart dropped, stomach clenching uncomfortably and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Doll, I’m not gonna leave you now, like this. I’m going on a mission tomorrow and I don’t want this to have been how we part.”

The rational part of (y/n) was begging her to agree with him, kiss him, savor the remaining time they had together, and then send him off with pride. But that part was silenced by everything else in her that felt hurt, scared, and rejected. She shook her head, refusing to look at him. “Go, Bucky. I’ll see you after the mission.”

“You can’t be asking me to leave right now. Please, let’s talk this out! Let me give you the security you need that everything will be okay and let me leave when I won’t feel guilty for having to do my job anymore.” His voice was wavering, but (y/n) didn’t want to break this time. She got up from where she was and stalked back to the bedroom, falling onto the bed in an exhausted heap. She covered herself with the blanket, pulling it up over her head, and closed her eyes.

When she opened her eyes again, she realizes she fell asleep. Cursing herself for that, she rips back the covers and stops as she sees that it’s dark outside. “Bucky?” She calls out, hopefully, but she knew it was futile. Her heart begins to beat much faster than it should, and she can feel her hands get clammy. She runs to the kitchen, seeing the apple pie still there where Bucky had placed it on the counter - completely untouched. The sight almost made her cry, but she didn’t have time to waste. Grabbing her phone from the counter, she checks the time: 2:46 AM.

Before she knows what she’s doing, she’s sprinting down the stairs of her apartment complex while still tugging on her jacket. Shoving her phone and wallet in her pocket, she hails a cab and jumps into it, mindlessly rattling off the address of the tower. She had no clue how long the ride was, having spent most of it trying to get her hands to stop shaking. Once she got there, she payed the driver, and ran toward the entrance of the tower. Hoping security wouldn’t be a hassle, she entered and went through the process. Time being a concept she could not fathom right now, she found herself sinking to the ground of the elevator. Hands still shaking and tears falling unwillingly, she prayed she had made it in time. If Bucky had left and their last exchange was that, she would never forgive herself.

Once the doors opened, she ran down the corridor to the door she knew was his and knocked several times as hard as she could. Ages seemed to go by as she stared at the door, the lump in her throat growing larger and the pressure in her chest constricting her breathing. But finally, finally, she heard the door being opened. As soon as Bucky came into view - shirtless with old ratty sweatpants on and his hair a mess, she allowed the sobs to escape her throat and launched herself at him.

Bucky stumbled a bit at the contact, but quickly steadied himself and wrapped his arms around her. Thank God she came to her senses, he thought to himself. She was incoherently mumbling apologies while he tried to shush her. He pushed the door closed with his foot, squatting a little and grabbing her legs so he could pick her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and buried her face into his neck as tears continued to fall. He carried her back to his bed, where he sat against the headboard and tried to detach her from him, which only made her hold on tighter. He chuckled and kissed her shoulder to reassure her, “I just wanna see your pretty face, Doll.”

She sniffled and pulled back, resting her forehead against his. “How are you not mad at me?” She cried, looking into his eyes. He smiled back at her, reaching up to wipe away her tears.

“Well you’re here now, I have no reason to be mad, no?”

“I’m just so sorry, Buck, I don’t deserve you. I was so awful, I can’t believe I asked you to leave. What if I hadn’t woken up and you would have left and something would have happened to you? I would never be able to look at myself again. God, I was so awful to you instead of being happy for you for getting a chance to do what you love doing-“ Her rant was cut off by a pair of lips on her own. She melted into the kiss before pulling back abruptly. “No! You’re not supposed to forgive me so quickly, you have to be mad at me Buck! I messed up so bad.” She swallowed thickly, looking down at her lap again.

Bucky pushed himself away from the headboard and onto the mattress, (y/n) now lying on top of him with her chin resting against his chest. She looked up at him through thick eyelashes, silently begging him to comfort her and reassure her. He looked back at her and told her, “Tell me you love me,” she quirked her brow at that, “I just feel like you haven’t told me in a while.” Bucky smiled, feigning annoyance as she shook her head at him and chuckled.

“I love you, James.” She cocked her head to the side smiling up at him gently.

“Wow, James huh? Pulling out the big guns I see?” He laughed as her smile grew and she blushed. She scooted up so they were face to face and cupped his face in her hands.

“I love you,” she kissed him before pulling back and repeating; “I love you.” She continued this until Bucky felt his heart was going to burst and he had to stop her by deepening her kiss. When they pulled back, he retracted his hands from her hair, eyeing her ponytail.

“You still got my hair tie, don’t you?”

“Oh my bad, here you go.” She went to pull it out of her hair, but Bucky grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth to place a kiss on it.

“Let’s just sleep now, doll.” Bucky gently pushed her head against his chest and her arms came to rest on his shoulders. He then wrapped his arms around her middle, bade her good night, and let sleep consume them.

When (y/n) awoke with Bucky underneath her, she sighed in relief that everything that had happened last night was not a dream. She woke him up by shaking him gently and a series of kisses, to which he responded with a groan and holding her tighter. She giggled but didn’t let up. “Come on, you big baby, it’s time for you to save the world.”

“Have you even seen the time, (y/n)?”

She furrowed her brows and checked the alarm clock next to her, eyes widening in shock and she bolted up instantly. “Bucky you’re so late! Get up and get dressed, I’ll tell them you’re on your way!”

Bucky chuckled and pulled her back down onto bed, rolling on top of her so she couldn’t get away. “Buck, you’re crushing me! Oh my god, get off!” She tried to push him off her - to no avail. The man wouldn’t budge.

“Shh, (y/n).”

“Did - did you seriously just shush me?”

“Yeah,” he yawned, “now let me sleep.”

“What about your mission?”

“Well obviously I’m not going,” he whined, “now shush.”

“What?” She half-yelled, and Bucky groaned at the sound. She used this opportunity to escape from under him.

“That was right next to my ear, doll.”

“What do you mean you’re not going? This is your job, you have people counting on you! You have to go!”

Bucky turned to his side to face her, a confused look on his face. “I tell you I’m going on the mission, you get mad at me. I tell you I’m not going on the mission, you get mad at me. Make up your mind, woman!” He groaned, tugging the covers back up and closing his eyes.

“Why are you not going?” She said, this time much softer, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Talked to Steve yesterday. He agreed it might be too early for a mission this big. Said I’d join them on the next one.” He mumbled. He scrunched up his face as he felt wet kisses on his cheek, “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome. Now leave me alone.”

“But Bucky, I promised you sex and pie if you stayed here with me!” (y/n) mused, getting up from the bed and walking toward the door. He was next to her in no time, sweeping her up into his arms as she laughed heartedly and wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

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millennialfangirl · 4 years

Text

Wherever You Will Go (Ch. 2)

Fandom: Agents of Shield Pairing: Daisy x Daniel Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 2440 Summary: The team spends a week relaxing. Daisy and Daniel get closer before they have the rug pulled out from under them. Author’s Note: Who else is surprised I've already got the second chapter ready? Just me? I might even have the third chapter up sometime tomorrow before the finale!!!Well here you go, lovely readers. I hope you enjoy! Comments are treasured!

Read Ch. 1

Chapter 2:

Over the next couple of days the team settles into a routine. Most mornings, Coulson has breakfast prepared for those who aren’t sleeping in, which is basically everyone except Deke. They watch movies and tv reruns from the stored collection they have, and they sit around answering Sousa’s questions about the 21st century. They take turns making meals, and May leads a few of them in Thai Chi lessons.

And every night, Daniel finds himself back in Daisy’s bunk, and every morning they wake up wrapped in each other’s arms. They haven’t done anything more than sleep next to each other, content for now with enjoying the safety and intimacy of the bubble they’ve created.

The decision to try and not take the next physical step comes to Daniel while sitting around with the guys drinking some gross beer called Zima. It’s their third night of floating through the temporal zone, and the girls are in another part of the Zephyr doing girly things, or so he was told by Deke. Mack and Coulson bring out a deck of cards, and they all sit down to an impromptu game of poker. At least this is one thing Daniel doesn’t have to be shown how to do.

“And there are hundreds of women and men, ready to swipe left or right on,” Deke explains enthusiastically.

“That sounds...overwhelming...and depressing,” Daniel comments. “Like it’s too easy.”

Coulson and Mack discreetly fist bump under the table.

“Well, when you come from a future where there’s the same thirty people to choose from for all of eternity, it’s easy to fall for the next new person.”

“I suppose that would make this online dating thing seem ideal,” Daniel responds.

“Yea, but is it really the same as meeting organically? Jemma and I were best friends for years before, you know...and now look at us. We’re stronger than ever,” Fitz adds.

“C’mon Bobo, you and nana are totally relationship goals, but you’re one in a million,” Deke says before dramatically folding. “The rest of us aren’t that lucky.”

Daniel thinks about the infinite ways his life could have gone, and acknowledges the rarity of the situation he’s in with Daisy. He leans forward and carefully pushes all of his chips into the center of the table.

“I’m all in.”

***

On the fourth day when Daniel wakes up, he wakes up alone. He throws on some clothes, and carefully makes his way through the ship in search of Daisy. He’s light on his feet in an effort not to wake anyone. Eventually he finds Daisy sitting in the cockpit next to Coulson, both of them staring out into the bright colors flashing beyond. He pauses as he hears their conversation.

“I just want to make him feel at home, and I figured you’d be the best person to ask, what, with your love of history and all,” he hears Daisy say.

“That’s a very sweet idea. I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it,” Coulson replies. “I think I have something in mind. How about after breakfast I go over the recipe with you?”

Daniel’s heart melts and he backs away from the bridge of the ship. Hopefully they don’t hear him on his way back to Daisy’s bunk. He settles back into the still warm bed, and when Daisy reappears ten minutes later, he pretends to wake up. He doesn’t spoil her surprise, and when she makes a lame excuse to leave his side after breakfast, he easily goes along with it.

That night Daisy leads him into the dining area with his eyes covered. He can smell something has been cooked, but he can’t quite place it.

“Surprise!” she yells as she lets her hands fall.

He opens his eyes to see a large dish of meatloaf and sides sitting in the middle of the table on display. The team is gathered around the table, all with varying degrees of concern on their faces.

“I thought I would cook something you’re used to from your time,” Daisy explains even though he already knows.

He acts surprised and squeezes her into a big hug before sitting down in front of the meal. They all dish out their servings, and one by one, Daniel watches all of them try to hide their initial reactions to the meatloaf. He mentally prepares himself as he takes his first bite, conscious of the fact that Daisy is watching his every move. He likes to think he does his best undercover work yet.

He enthusiastically gulps down the overly dry and salty concoction, and then lies through his teeth.

“It’s delicious! Just like home,” he tells her. He watches her clap her hands in excitement, and he thinks his parched mouth is worth it in the end to see her so happy.

He carefully stares at every other member of the team in warning, and they all start to sing their praises as they hastily dig into their meals.

Despite how awful it tastes, it’s still his favorite dinner to date.

***

“You mean to tell me that Daisy isn’t a part of this group of superheroes?” Daniel asks, befuddled one night.

Daisy laughs and snorts in derision. They’re passing around snacks, gathered in the common area with a large screen t.v.

“I’m not exactly Avenger-material. I was kind of a vigilante for a while there,” Daisy says with self deprecation.

“Honestly,” Fitz starts, “she’s been too busy saving the world on her own,” he comments.

“Oh, that’s sweet Fitz, and very true,” Jemma adds.

“Okay, first, that’s a major overstatement. I have not been doing anything on my own. I’ve had your help at every turn, and sometimes I’m the reason the world needs saving, so no, I’m not supposed to be an Avenger,” Daisy finishes.

Everyone except Daisy passes knowing glances back and forth, but decides to drop the subject.

“So Jemma, do you have any more pictures of Thor?” Yo-yo asks with a grin.

The men groan and the girls huddle around Jemma’s phone.

***

Daisy is sitting alone in her bunk on their sixth night in the Zephyr. While she has enjoyed, coveted even, her time with the team and Daniel, she can feel restlessness brewing in her gut. Her body is no longer aching and her mind is already planning all the things they need to take care of as a team when they return to the present time. She’s looking forward to going home, and focusing on her family, and herself.

That starts tonight. While Daniel has been off with Mack, Yo-yo, and May training and exercising his new prosthetic, Daisy has enjoyed some quiet moments of pampering. She has re-highlighted her hair blonde, and has chosen to add back her purple streaks. She thinks it’s the perfection combination of the edgy side of herself she has had to embrace over the years, and the young, hopeful girl she’s always been underneath. It absolutely has nothing to do with Daniel’s preferences.

She’s parting her hair in it’s signature look when someone knocks on her bunk door. She answers it and is surprised to see Daniel standing there in a suit holding a bouquet of paper flowers. His face is just this side of sheepish as he holds them out for her to take. Then he notices her hair and his smile goes wide.

“What are you doing?” she can’t help but ask.

“I would like to formally ask you to dinner, just the two of us.”

Daniel’s face is full of hope and anticipation, so she doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“I would love to,” she says, pausing to take the bouquet. “I’m assuming you weren’t really training this whole time.”

“That’s need to know,” he says smugly, and she can’t help but laugh out loud.

Thirty minutes later she meets him in the dining area, wearing a hastily put together outfit, including the yellow shirt she had from the 50’s, and a pencil skirt she borrowed from Jemma. She’s nervous, because when she starts to really think about it, this may be the first real date she’s ever been on. She’s always fallen into relationships rather impulsively, and this feels more like a conscious decision. For the first time, she really wants to actively make this work, and for the first time, she feels like she’s with someone who’s willing to put in the effort.

He’s pinned to the spot when he sees her walk in, and there’s a softness in his eyes as he looks her up and down. Then he walks up to her and takes her hands while leaning over to kiss her cheek. It sends goosebumps all the way down to her toes.

From there, he leads her over to a chair he pulls out for her, and slides her seat in. In a moment he is pouring her a glass of red wine, which she didn’t even know they had, and she’s looking down at a delicious, juicy looking burger. She has been dying for a hamburger, and she eyes him suspiciously, wondering how he knew. He smiles back at her mischievously.

The dinner is perfect, and so is the company. Towards the end of the meal, Daniel puts on some soft music, and they spend the rest of the night dancing close. When they kiss at her bunk door, it’s the most passionate to date. Her back hits the door as their hands explore and their lips nibble. He seeks out her neck, and she holds him in place, her fingers mussing up his hair.

Without looking, she slides her door open, and starts backing them into her room. He stops abruptly, pulling away from her as he catches his breath. His face is flushed from the wine, or their kissing...or maybe both.

“I think, maybe, I should sleep in my bunk,” he says regretfully.

“Are you sure?” she asks, slightly disappointed.

“Yea, I don’t think there’s an ounce of me that I could control tonight,” he says with a dopey, longing expression.

So he kisses her goodnight, and leaves her standing at her door with a dreamy look on her face. And for the first time they sleep in different beds, and she’s okay with that, because she really wants this to work.

***

On the seventh night, their bubble of happiness pops as they sit gathered together and listen to what Coulson learned in the time stream.

Some of them will be going back to 2019, instead of 2020, to be turned to dust by an egomaniacal tyrant, while others will be going to different periods in time.

When Coulson is done explaining everything, the room is silent before abruptly breaking out into discussions and arguments.

“Why can’t we all just jump to 2024?” Yo-yo asks.

“It’s not that simple,” Coulson starts. “From what I can understand, the only reason some of us weren’t snapped back in 2019 is because of another time loop. Some of us have to go back to that point in time to be snapped, so that the other past version of ourselves can stay there and take care of Izel, and find Fitz.”

“So you’re saying that if we go to 2020, instead of 2019, our past selves will be turned to dust, and Izel will succeed in taking over the Earth?” Mack asks for clarification.

“I’ve talked it over with Fitz, and we think it’s because the stones will always choose to snap the oldest version of ourselves,” Coulson explains.

“And Daisy has to be there, where the battle will take place, so that she can help fight this Thanos guy?” Daniel asks with concern.

Daisy chooses that moment to stand up abruptly, and leave the room. Daniel moves to follow her, but May has him hold off. “Not this time,” she tells him, before going to follow Daisy herself.

Daniel looks around the room brokenhearted.

“In every timeline I really cease to exist if I’m there for the snap? I won’t come back with everybody else in 2024?” he asks.

“In every timeline,” Coulson answers regretfully.

Coulson looks pensive for a minute, a fraction of doubt on his face, and Daniel jumps on it.

“What is it?” he asks.

“There’s a very, very small cha--” he starts, but Daniel cuts him off.

“I’ll do it, whatever it is, no matter how small of a chance,” he declares with determination.

“Let’s go over a plan,” Coulson responds with a knowing smile.

***

An hour later, Daniel is standing outside of Daisy’s door. Coulson lectured him at length about all of the unknown variables at play, how one move could completely change the course. They’re not only relying on themselves, but others to play their part. When Coulson and Daisy return to 2019, they can’t warn a single soul. They can’t guide the Avengers in any way. They have to let things run their course, or they could be responsible for Thanos winning in the long run, and Daniel will never see the 21st century.

With the weight of everything he knows on his shoulders, he knocks softly on her door.

“Come in,” he can hear muffled through the door.

He steps in and closes the door behind him. She stands up from where she had been sitting on the floor against her bed, and he can see the balled up tissues littered on the floor. Her eyes shine with more unshed tears, and something inside him snaps. They deserve one moment of happiness.

He steps into her space and kisses her hard, and his hands connect with her body, pulling her as close to him as possible. He gently backs her up, and they fall onto the bed. He glides his hands up and down her sides as he moves his lips from her mouth to her neck. He starts to pull up her shirt, but stops.

“Is this okay,” he asks, and she answers by lifting the shirt the rest of the way off and over her head.

She leans back into place with her hand gripping the front of his shirt. There are dried tear tracks on her face, and a quiet desperation in her eyes.

“I need you,” she says, and it sounds a lot more like she needs him not to disappear from her life forever, but for now, he’ll give her everything he has.

“I’ve got you,” he says as he leans down to kiss her once again.

Their last night on the Zephyr, they go to bed together, like so many times before, but this time, they don’t sleep.

****

Thanks for reading!!!

#dousy #daisy x daniel #daisy johnson #daniel sousa #aos #agents of shield #my fic #daisysous #daisy x sousa #dousy fic #aos fic

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give-me-back-my-rhodey · 4 years

Text

The Not-So Worst Day of Peter’s Life

This fic is a part of the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange for @fromsiberia

Rating: General Warnings: N/A

I enjoyed writing this - I hope you enjoy reading it!

Peter takes a class trip to Stark Industries. What could go wrong (or right)?

Read on ao3

“So, we have a field trip planned,” Peter mentions casually while eating lunch on Sunday.

Tony swallows the food in his mouth, “Great kid. When and where?”

“It’s this Friday, and it’s at Stark Industries,” Peter’s mouth contorts into a strained smile. “Did you do this?”

“I did not, cross my heart and hope to die,” Tony runs a finger across his sternum. “It was probably someone in our HR department. Why, you don’t want to go?”

“it just puts me in a tough spot because I’m ‘working’ here,” Peter makes finger quotations, “and no one believes me but Ned and MJ, but that’s because they know my alter ego.”

“What do you want me to do? Do you want me to call out sick and not go in that day? Or do you want me to acknowledge you and just rave about your intelligence? I’m good with that, too.”

“No! Just do what you normally do. If we run into you, you can just say hi to me to prove you know me, but I don’t need a whole letter of recommendation or anything!” Peter scoffs.

Tony nods understandingly, “I will be the ultimate professional, but I cannot speak for Happy. Or Bucky, if he’s around.”

“If I’m around where?” Bucky saunters into the room, dropping a kiss on Tony’s cheek.

“Speak of the devil,” Tony smirks. “Peter’s class is going to SI on Friday for a field trip.”

Bucky’s eyes glitter. “Good to know.” He grabs a water bottle from the fridge and walks back out. “Going for a run with Steve.”

“Make sure you shower afterwards!” Tony yells after him.

Peter turns on Tony as soon as Bucky leaves, “Please don’t let him embarrass me.”

“I will do what I can,” Tony ruffles Peter’s head. Standing up, he takes his plate and sticks it in the dishwasher. “Hey, I just got some of that stretchy material in. Wanna test it?”

Peter eagerly follows him into the lab.

+++++++++++++++++++

“So, Tony didn’t set it up?” Ned asks, biting into his pizza.

“No, he had no idea. I guess they do field trip things fairly often, so they just have someone in HR schedule them.” Peter wrinkles his nose. “Really Ned? Pineapple and sweet peppers? Ugh, that’s nasty.”

“You just have boring tastes, extra-cheese man.”

MJ shakes her head, “Bacon’s where it’s at.”

Peter and Ned look at each other and shrug. Neither of them can refute the fact that bacon is one of the better pizza toppings.

“So, Penis, are you going on the field trip on Friday?” Flash Thompson walks up to stand at the end of their table. “I wouldn’t blame you for not going, you know, because it’s going to be so embarrassing for you when we all confirm that your Stark Internship is all in your imagination. Right guys?” Flash’s little posse of friends all agree and laugh.

“I’m going.” Peter smiles at Flash.

“Alright. It’s your funeral,” Flash replies then turns to his crowd. “IF we see Tony Stark, maybe he can tell us about Spiderman! Unlike this idiot here, Spiderman actually works with Iron Man! He’s like the coolest superhero out there. Okay, let’s go. Bye losers!” He does a little wave at Peter’s table. Peter gives him a thumbs up in response.

“I mean, it’s funny to me that Flash loves you and hates you, but why do you put up with that?” MJ comments.

Peter shrugs, “It doesn’t really bother me. If he wants to run his mouth, trying to make me feel small, let him. At least he’s doing it to me, and not someone who will actually be affected by it. By the way, tomorrow night, we’re watching Clueless. Bucky hasn’t seen too many rom-coms, and I mean to change that. Tony said you are welcome to come. He’s making like six different types of popcorn.”

“I’m in.” MJ nods as Ned raises his hand and waves it to show he also will be there.

The bell rings to indicate the end of lunch break, and the trio splits up to go to their respective classes.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tony meets Peter when he gets to the Tower after rotations. “Hey Pete, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you that Harley’s going to be here this week.”

‘Oh ok, maybe we can finish that project now that… OH NO! Don’t tell me he’s going to be at SI on Friday!” Peter groans as Tony grimaces.

“Unfortunately, he will be, and you know there’s nothing I can do to stop him once he’s on a warpath.”

“My life is over,” Peter mourns. “Why can’t his college have normal spring break just like everybody else?”

“Probably because the universe is just bent on screwing you over.” Peter hates just how amused Tony sounds.

He folds his arms. “You’re the worst dad ever.”

“Sure son. Want to talk it over a game of catch?” Tony has his biggest shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

Peter shakes his head. “No, I just remembered. Aunt May said she’s going to have supper ready at 6:30 so I got to go. Love you, Dad.” He quickly hugs Tony then runs out the door.

“Love you, too kid!” Tony calls after him.

“Look at you, being less and less emotionally stunted as the days go by,” Rhodey comments from the doorway. “I guess Barnes and the kid are doing you good.”

“Oh, shut it, platypus.” Tony shoots back good-humoredly. “You were the one who started the process.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tuesday night, dubbed “Movie Night,” comes, and Tony, Bucky, Peter, Harley, Ned, and MJ are watching Clueless on Tony’s huge theater-sized TV. JARVIS turns on Clueless, and everyone soon gets lost into the hard high-school life of one Cher Horowitz.

Peter sympathizes with Cher’s driving issues as he also had a hard time learning to drive. He cringes, thinking of the time he had to drive Flash’s father’s car to chase Liz’s dad. Tony shudders at the fashion, or lack thereof, of the 90’s.

When the movie ends, Harley points out that although Cher’s last name is supposedly Horowitz, her report card is labelled as Cher Hamilton. MJ tells them she doesn’t like that Josh is Cher’s step-brother – it just weirds her out. Peter asks Bucky what he thought of the movie.

Bucky thinks about it for a second then asks, “Isn’t this basically modern-day Emma?”

“Emma?”

“Yea, the Jane Austen novel. Like, Cher is clearly Emma. She’s so happy she got Dionne together with Murray so she thinks she’s good at this stuff. She takes Tai in order to help her become popular. That means Tai is Harriet Smith. Cher tries to set her up with Elton, whose name is taken straight from Emma – Mr. Elton. Cher thinks she’s in love with Christian, who is pulled from Frank Churchill. The only difference here is that Christian is gay, not already engaged to Jane Fairfax. Josh, of course, is Mr. Knightley, except that he’s Cher’s stepbrother, not a family friend. Because Elton says he’s in love with Cher, not Tai, Tai feels unwanted. When Josh starts showing her attention because Cher asked him to, Tai starts to fall for him just as Cher realizes she’s in love with him. This is equal to the scenes where Mr. Knightley dances with Harriet when Mr. Elton snubs her. Harriet believes he is interested whereas he’s only doing Emma a favor. Harriet tells Emma that she thinks she loves Knightley. As a result, Emma gets a reality check. In the end, Tai dates the skater boy Travis, who is the modern-day Robert Martin, deemed as unworthy by Cher/Emma.” He pauses when he sees everyone just staring at him, open-mouthed. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Oh my gosh,” MJ whispers. “I think I love him.”

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Tony wraps his arms around Bucky. “Bucky, darling, I don’t know because I don’t read mushy stuff like Jane Austen, but based on MJ’s reaction, you must have hit the nail on the head.”

Bucky nuzzles Tony’s cheek with his nose until Harley fake gags, “There are children present!”

“The book is better, but the movie was ok,” Bucky wrinkles his nose.

Peter clutches his chest, “It’s a rom-com classic! I can’t believe it!” He dramatically falls off the couch onto the floor, acting as if his heart had failed him.

“Oh, no, we lost him. What ever shall we do?” Harley deadpans, stuffing a pillow on Peter’s face and holding it there until Peter rolls over.

“You are all a bunch of children,” Tony laughs. “Honey, don’t you feel like the parent of some very unruly children.”

Bucky snorts, “Gee, I wonder who they got it from.”

“Gasp. Betrayed by my own boyfriend. Now I have no one in the cruel, cold world.” Tony splays a hand across his arc reactor. “Woe is me.”

All too soon, though, it was time to go home, and Peter wishes all his nights could be like this. As Peter leaves one last lingering look at Tony and Bucky on the couch, he feels Harley nudge him. “Hey, at least you can leave,” the blond nineteen-year-old grins. “I’m going to have to deal with them, and I don’t think they’re going to wait until they get to their room to start. Seriously, I may have to gouge my eyes out by the end of the week.”

Peter pats Harley on the shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll manage. Have a good night.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter spends Wednesday night with Aunt May, but Tony asks for his help in the SI lab on Thursday. Two hours into working on improving Peter’s suit, Peter admits, “I’m a little nervous about tomorrow.”

Tony immediately puts down his tools, “Ok… talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I just… don’t know what’s going to happen, and I don’t want to make a big deal about the whole internship. Like, I don’t even care if they don’t believe me. Now it either becomes a big deal, or they'll all still think I’m a liar. And what if someone makes the Spiderman connection?”

“Hey, kid. You'll be fine, but if you don’t want to go, don’t go. You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone. I’ll support you with whatever you choose. And the Spiderman thing? I don’t think anyone’s going connect the dots. They'll probably think Harles is Spiderman before you." Tony knocks his shoulder. “All I’m saying is I will be happy to see you if you decide to go, and I would never be ashamed of being seen with you. I’ve basically adopted you. If you want to add fuel to the flames, I can even call you son.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“No! Please don’t! I don’t need that as well.” Peter groans.

“Ok ok fine!” Tony holds up his hands. “But let me know if you need me to be a school emergency contact. I know May’s been having longer shifts, but she won’t accept my help.”

“She’s a strong independent woman, Tony. She doesn’t need you.” Peter jabs playfully.

“No she does not. I admire her. The only person I admire more than her is Pepper. And I’ve met Thor, Peter.”

Peter gasps dramatically, “Don’t diss on my Thor!”

When Peter goes to leave that night, Tony pulls him into a hug. “Love ya, son.”

“Love you, too, dad.” Peter’s heart fills with happiness. He supposes tomorrow won’t be too bad.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Friday comes, and May wakes Peter up for his class trip. He groans but gets up. “Ugh. Today is going to be a train wreck.” He tells her.

“You know, you don’t have to go on your class trip,” May remarks, looked amused.

“Yea, I know, but I feel like I should just go.”

Peter gets to school, and Flash seems to be waiting for him. “Oh, hey guys. Here he is! We’re going to see today just how pathetic Parker is. I hope you’re ready.” Flash smirks at him.

“Oh, believe me, I am not ready for this trip,” Peter concedes, “but for reasons that are so much different than what you’re thinking.”

“Ok, boys, enough fighting. It’s time to go,” Mr. Harrington calls from the front of the classroom. “Everyone, pair up and get on the bus.”

Peter and Ned fall in line together, followed by MJ and Betty. The pretty blonde taps Peter on the shoulder. “Hey Peter, for what it’s worth, I believe you.”

“Thanks Betty! I appreciate it.” Peter smiles back at her.

The four of them sit together in the back of the bus, ignoring all the chaos going on in front of them. “It gets worse,” Peter confides to Ned, “Harley’s gonna be there. You know it’s his goal in life to make me as uncomfortable as possible.”

“Relax, Pete, he’s like your brother. That’s what family’s for.”

The bus ride takes approximately thirty minutes to get to Stark Industries. Once everyone is out and lined up two by two, Mr. Harrington leads them up to the facility. He fumbles with the paperwork as he walks up to a security guard. Once the guard is satisfied, he takes them in to the front desk. Bambi is working the desk, as usual. She hands out visitor’s cards to every member of the party, and her face brightens when she sees Peter. “Oh, hi Peter! I didn’t realize this was your class. You should just be showing them around, don’t you think?” She winks at him.

Peter loves Bambi. She treats him like her own grandchildren. “Hi, Bambi. It’s good to see you. Today, I think I’m just following along with the rest of them.”

As the rest of the class had already left the receptionist desk to wait for their tour guide, no one heard Peter and Bambi’s interaction. Mr. Harrington calls him over, and Flash looks at him suspiciously. “What, did you ask her to act like she knew you?”

“No, she just knows me. That’s Bambi.”

“No shit. Isn’t that what her name tag read?” Flash retorts, and Peter mentally nods. Flash does have a point there.

“Midtown High?” A voice says, and Peter freezes. No. He knows that voice. He turns slowly to find that his fear is, in fact, reality. “Hello, my name is Harley Keener. I’m a part-time intern of Tony Stark, and I will be your tour guide today. Does anyone have any questions before we start?”

Annabelle raises her hand, “Will we see Tony Stark or Pepper Potts today?”

“You are in luck, because Tony himself instructed that I show you his lab today. Ms. Potts is the CEO of the company, so I can’t really say if we will see her or not. She is a very busy woman.” Harley smiles. Peter feels his eyes on him, and when Peter looks up, Harley’s smile becomes a smirk. Peter’s spidey-senses tingle with a sense of foreboding.

Flash nudges Peter, “Hey Porker, that is what someone who interns for Tony Stark would look like. He’s mature and actually attractive… unlike you.”

“You think he’s mature? He’s the devil incarnate. The only reason he is leading this tour is because he wants to make my life miserable,” Peter hisses.

Flash scoffs, but he just rejoins his partner at the front of the line.

“Hey, kid.” Harley addresses Flash. “I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to stay with your partner in a two-by-two line unless I say you can spread out. I don’t want to cause problems, but I’m sure you understand that we have precautions that we must take in order to let guided tours through here.” Peter holds in a laugh when Flash looks properly chastised.

Ned leans close and says, “And that’s where family has your back as well, even after you call them ‘the Devil incarnate.’”

Harley leads them through department after department, explaining how each of them work. After explaining, he would ask if anyone had any questions. Finally, on the sixth floor, Flash can’t resist any longer. “I have to ask, Mr. Keener, do you know anyone by the name of Peter Parker?”

“You mean Tony’s other intern? Yea I know him. He’s a little shit most of the time, but yea. Any other questions?”

Everyone in the class turns back to Peter, who can’t help but smile smugly. “I have a question,” Peter asks, “Why did you decide to guide this tour? This isn’t your normal job here.”

The blood drains from Peter’s face when Harley just smiles and says, “It was something I wanted to do, and Tony owed me that favor after he lost the bet.”

“Oh crap.” The foreboding tingles are back.

Mr. Harrington looks confused, “I’m sorry. I guess you two know each other?”

“Yes, we have worked together on many a project with Mr. Stark,” Harley informs him. “We just have a little harmless rivalry – like to poke fun at each other.”

Flash looks like he’s just going to faint. Peter wants to laugh at him, but he’s mature. He’ll laugh about it later.

Harley continues, “Now, if no one has any questions about this department, I will take you up to the next floor. Please be warned, this is Tony Stark’s R&D floor. We will have to confiscate any phones as we do not allow any videos and pictures on this floor.” They climb the stairs. “Before we go in, please hand all your phones and/or recording devices to Alessia here. She will return them to you once we come back out of this room.”

Once everyone forks over their technology, Harley puts his hand on the scanner, and the doors open. “Please line up against the wall, and don’t touch anything.” He tells them.

Peter groans aloud when he sees the view in front of him. Bucky frickin’ Barnes is sitting on the frickin’ table where Tony is fixing his frickin’ arm! He knows Bucky and Harley have something up their sleeve.

“You ok there, Parker?” Harley asks, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“Yeah. I’m great.” Peter grits out.

Tony and Bucky seem to be in their own little world because neither of them looks up. Tony closes a plate on Bucky’s arm and runs his hand down the arm until he clasps Bucky’s hand in his own. Bucky touches Tony’s face with his right arm, and Harley clears his throat loudly. Bucky slowly drops his hand, and they both turn to look at the class, Bucky’s eyes seeking Peter out.

Tony smiles his press smile, “Welcome, guys, gals, and non-binary pals to where the magic happens. This lab here is my personal lab, and very few people have access to this select lab. Consider yourselves lucky. Sergeant Barnes here just had some problems with his arm, and, as I was working here today, came to visit me. If you see over there, I have my helper bots.” Tony walks over to ELL-E. “This darling here is one of my newer ones. Say hi, ELL-E!” Everyone awws when she raises her claw and waves. “I have three of these at home, all built when I was in college. Since I work most days at the tower, I keep them there. DUM-E was the first AI bot I ever made. He’s a mess, though. That’s why his name’s DUM-E.” He claps his hands together. “Now does anyone have any questions… actually, wait, I have a question for you kids. We are in the process in updating the Stark phone. Does anyone here own one, and if so, do you have any suggestions in improving it?”

Raoul raises his hand, “Well, I must say I do love the latest update… the easy access to setting up disability features really helped my mom use her phone better. She used to make one of us use her phone for her because most phones either don’t have the features or make it hard to find where to turn them on.”

“Thank you. Fun fact – that update was drawn up and coded by your very own classmate over there, one Mr. Peter Parker. I don’t know how much of a bragger he is – I sure was one when I was his age – but that young man is brilliant. I am honored to have him working here as an intern.” Tony sends a smile towards Peter.

Flash raises his hand, “Hi, so if Peter interns for you, and you mostly work from the tower, does that mean Peter works at Stark Tower around all the superheroes?”

“Yup,” Tony smiles. “To be honest, I think he had the biggest freak out when he met Bucky over here… or maybe Thor. Sorry, Buck, I think Thor is his favorite.”

A few other students raise their hands to ask questions, and Peter zones out. A loud clapping sound wakes him from his reverie.

“I hate to interrupt, but it’s almost time for lunch,” Harley speaks up. “Do you want me to take them down now, or is there anything else you want to say?”

Tony spins back around to face them, finger in the air. “I just had a brilliant idea. Why don’t you join me and Sergeant Barnes for lunch? We’re going down to the cafeteria. Just order what you want on my dime. We’ll accompany you down in a minute.”

“Sir, you don’t have to,” Mr. Harrington sputters. “The students did all bring lunch…”

“Oh, it would be my pleasure. I have more money than I know what to do with. I insist,” Tony says. Then he smirks and says, “I know, Ms. Jones, that I should sink my money into charities and things. Please provide me with several of your choice, and I promise to make a large donation.”

MJ’s mouth opens and closes, then she nods. “Fair enough.”

“Ok kiddos,” Harley says, “let me take you down to the cafeteria. If you want your phones back, please make sure you pick them up from Alessia.”

Peter and Ned are the last ones to leave the lab. Peter turns right before he walks out. Bucky and Tony wave at him. He groans, “They’re going to do something at lunch. I can feel it.”

Five minutes later, Tony and Bucky arrive in the cafeteria, holding hands.

“Holy shit! Are they actually together?” Adria gasps in a loud whisper.

Ned rolls his eyes. “Of course. What, have you been living under a rock?”

After the power couple get their food, they sit at the table where Peter and Harley are sitting. “So, did we do ok, kid?” Tony asks.

“Well, now the whole world is going to know you’re dating. They’re not ‘just speculating’ anymore.” Peter smirks.

“Babe, we can have a make out session on the table now!” Bucky’s eyes twinkle. “We don’t have to hide anymore!”

“Gosh no, please, please no!” Peter groans. “Ugh. I hate you all right now.”

“We love you, too,” Harley coos.

Twenty minutes later, Harley and Mr. Harrington round up the class to proceed with the tour. Bucky pulls Tony up and says, “Come on, Mr. Stark, you have a meeting with Ms. Potts to which you must not be late if you know what’s good for you.” “Oh, are you giving me orders, Sergeant Barnes?” Tony asks back, and Peter knows his face is bright red.

“Just… go.” He mutters, and he’s sure only Bucky was able to hear him. Bucky takes it as a cue to leave. He takes Tony’s arm.

“Here is where I must take my leave,” Tony, ever the showman, bows. “Thank you all for touring my humble company, and I do hope you all have enjoyed yourselves. Bye, Petey.” He wiggles his fingers. Peter hides his face in his hands.

“Kill me now,” he pleads to Ned.

The rest of the field trip goes off without a hitch, and the ride back to school is peaceful. Peter imagines everyone is on Twitter going on about Winteriron or something. He realizes that Tony and Bucky did this so that no one would bother him about the internship. Once again, he is choked up to see just how caring and thoughtful Tony is. The next person who says differently can catch these hands. He thinks.

Peter leaves quickly when school ends so he doesn’t miss his bus that has a tendency to show up early. Tony is waiting for him at the tower when he gets there. “So how did we do today?”

“You guys were embarrassing, but I guess I’ve come to terms with it.” Peter grumbles. “That’s what family does. Thank you for taking all the attention off of me. You didn't have to go semi-public with your relationship.”

“Let you have the spotlight? Never! Don't you know I need it all?” Tony jokes, then smiles softly. “I only did what Rhodey would’ve done to me.”

Peter smiles, “Rhodey is a gift to this world.”

“Peter, my dear, you are brilliant, but let me tell you, that is the smartest and most correct thing you have ever said,” Tony takes him by the shoulders. “But if you ever tell my honeybear that, I will deny it vehemently.”

“Understood. Hey want to play a game of chess?” When Tony agrees, Peter gets the chessboard out that Wanda had given him. Apparently, it had belonged to her father. Peter just likes the glass pieces.

Epilogue

On Monday, Flash apologizes to him when they return to school. “Hey Parker, I… uh… I’m sorry for all that shit I said about you. I guess it just seemed unreal, and I shouldn’t have made fun of you like that.”

“Yea, you shouldn’t have. Being a dick doesn’t make you cool; it just makes you look like a dick. But I do understand. My life is pretty surreal. No harm done – just don’t do it anymore to anyone.” Peter tells him.

Flash nods, “Yea, I know. So, have you met Spiderman? Is he as cool as he seems?”

“Nah, I hate him. He’s a total loser. He once stole my ice cream sandwich and didn't replace it or apologize.” Peter smiles. “Now, Thor? He’s not called a god for no reason. He would never do that.”

Peter walks out of school much happier than usual. Maybe this field trip wasn’t so bad.

#the friendly neighborhood exchange #iron dad and spider son #iron dad #stark industries #winteriron #just a little bit #i write!

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bechloeislegit · 4 years

Text

25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2019

Day 24 - CHRISTMAS CHOICES

Author's Prompt/Idea: [Sort of a post-PP3 fic, and the only Chicago mentioned, is the city] Beca is living in L.A. and runs into Jesse. Theo turns out to be a decent guy, and Beca decides to give him a chance. Now she's dating both of them without the other knowing. What will she do when she gets a life-changing offer from each of them? Who will she choose?

"Beca?"

Beca turns at the sound of her name. Her eyes widen, and she's quite surprised to see her ex-boyfriend, Jesse, standing a few feet away from her.

"Jesse!" Beca exclaims, rushing over to him.

Jesse stands there with his arms opened wide, waiting for her to reach him. She rushes into his arms, and Jesse wraps her in a warm hug.

"Oh, my God," Beca said, hugging him tightly. "I can't believe I ran into you."

Jesse chuckled and let Beca go. "I heard you were in L.A. Finally!"

"I know, it's surreal," Beca said. "Plus, I've been here for almost a year. I'm surprised we haven't run into each at least once by now."

"I've been working in Chicago for the past ten months," Jesse said. "I haven't been back in L.A. for very long."

"Hey, I was going to get a coffee. Do you have some time to join me so we can catch up a bit? Tell me why you were in Chicago for ten months."

"I'd love that," Jesse said and followed Beca into a nearby coffee shop.

~ Day 24 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

An hour later, Beca's phone chimed with an appointment notification.

"I'm sorry, Jesse," Beca said, looking at her phone. "I have to go. I have a meeting with Khalid and Theo in twenty minutes."

"I understand," Jesse said. "It was great seeing you. I hope we can do it again."

"I'd like that," Beca said. "Is your number the same?"

"Yeah, it is," Jesse said.

"Great," Beca said with a smile. "I'll text you when I'm free."

"Can't wait," Jesse said, standing as Beca did. He hugged her quickly, and Beca rushed out of the coffee shop.

Beca rushed into the building and used the elevator ride to the eighteenth floor. When the elevator doors opened, she confidently walked off, smiling.

"What's got our resident badass smiling this morning?" Theo asked as he fell into step next to Beca.

"Nothing," Beca said. "Ran into an old friend this morning."

"That's nice," Theo said. "Are we still on for dinner tonight? I made the reservations for seven. Will you be done in the studio before then?"

"Seven is fine," Beca said. "Meet me at my office at six-thirty."

"I look forward to it," Theo said, giving Beca a toothy smile. "Now, Khalid is going to ask about studio time…"

Theo and Beca continued talking until they reached Khalid's office.

~ Day 24 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

Eight months later, Beca was talking to Chloe about her Christmas plans.

"I'll pay for your ticket," Beca said. "Consider it my Christmas present to you."

"I don't know, Beca," Chloe said. "I usually go to my parents in Tampa for Christmas. They'll be expecting me."

"I know, but I haven't seen you in forever," Beca whined. "I have so much going on, or I'd come to visit you. Please think about it. I'll call mama Beale and beg her to let you come visit me if that's what it takes to get you here."

Chloe laughed. "I'll call my mom and let her know I won't be coming this year."

"Yes!" Beca yelled into the phone. "Thank you. I need you to help me figure out what to do about Jesse and Theo."

"Oh, poor, Beca," Chloe said sarcastically. "She's got two men who want her. You poor thing. Whatever will you do?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't need my best friend to help me, would I?" Beca said with a chuckle.

"Fine," Chloe said, laughing. "I'll let you know the dates I can be there. I have to go to work, so I'll talk to you later."

"Thanks, Chloe," Beca said. "I sincerely mean that. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Beca," Chloe said, ending the call.

Beca sighed and threw her phone on the desk. She sat back and thought about all that's happened in the past eight months.

~ Day 24 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

Chloe let out a heavy sigh as she put her phone in her pocket. She wanted to see Beca, but she didn't want to see Beca with Theo or Jesse (again). Maybe she could invoke the best friend card and have Beca all to herself while she was in L.A.

"That won't work," Chloe mumbled to herself. "She'll want to tell me all about both of them so I can give her my opinion on who she should choose. My life sucks."

Several hours later, Chloe got home to what was now solely her little apartment. She placed her keys on the hook by the door and kicked off her shoes. She hung her jacket on the coat rack and turned to pull open the refrigerator.

After deciding to make a grilled cheese sandwich and heating some soup, Chloe sat at the small table and pulled out her phone and placed a call.

"Hi, mom," Chloe said when her mother answered her call.

"Chloe, sweetie," Charlotte Beale said. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Chloe said. "How are you? And daddy?"

"We're both good," Charlotte said.

"I called to let you know I won't be coming home for Christmas," Chloe said.

"What?" Charlotte asked, disappointment in her voice. "Why not?"

"I'm going to L.A. to spend Christmas with Beca," Chloe said.

"Oh," Charlotte said, her mood lightened. "Really?"

"It's not like that, mom," Chloe said. "Beca reconnected with Jesse, and she's dating him and Theo. She's not sure which one she should continue a relationship with, so she asked me to come to L.A. and help her decide."

Chloe sniffled, and Charlotte felt her heart ache for her daughter.

"Maybe you should tell her how you feel," Charlotte blurted out. "She can't choose you if she doesn't know you're an option."

"It doesn't work like that, mom," Chloe said sadly. "I'm her best friend, and that's all she sees me as. I don't want to go and see her with either one of those guys, but I have to because that's what a best friend would do."

"I'm sorry, Chloe," Charlotte said. "If you don't want to go, you can always tell her that I insisted you come home."

"Thanks, mom," Chloe said, smiling into the phone. "But, I already promised Beca. I'm going to finish dinner and jump in the shower. I'll talk to you in a few days."

"Okay, sweetie," Charlotte said. "We love you."

"I love you, too," Chloe said and ended the call.

~ Day 24 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

Beca answered the incessant knocking on her apartment door.

"What the hell?" Beca exclaimed as the door was pushed open as soon as she turned the knob. "Jesse!"

"Oh, sorry, babe," Jesse said. "I got the best news today, and I had to come and tell you about it."

"What is it?" Beca asked as she took Jesse's hand and led him to the sofa.

"I got my dream job working with Silvercup Studios in New York," Jesse said, his smile spread from ear to ear he was so excited.

"That's great, Jesse," Beca said, hugging him.

"It is," Jesse said. "I move at the beginning of the New Year. And I want you to go with me."

"What?" Beca asked her face a mask of confusion.

"I realized in the last eight and half months how much I messed up when we broke up," Jesse said. "I love you, Beca. I think I always have. And I want us to be together. In New York."

"Jesse, my life is here now," Beca said, standing and starting to pace. "My job, my career is all here, in L.A. I can't just pack up and move back to New York."

"But there is so much for you there," Jesse said, jumping up to take Beca's hands to stop her from pacing. "There are plenty of studios you who would love to sign you.h. Plus, Chloe's still in New York, and I know how much you miss her."

"I don't know, Jesse," Beca said, her thoughts running through her mind at a hundred miles a minute.

"Think about it," Jesse said. "You don't have to answer right away. I'm leaving tomorrow to go to my parents for Christmas. I'll be back by New Year's. Give it until then and let me know what you decide. Just promise you'll really think seriously about it. Plus, you won't have to move immediately. I'll go to New York and get an apartment and set everything up, and then you can join me in a month or two. Okay?"

"Jesse," Beca said softly.

"Just, please, Beca? Think about it," Jesse said, his boyish grin and puppy dog eyes working overtime to convince her. "I have to run, but I'll call you later."

Jesse kissed Beca, and with a quick, I love you, he was gone.

~ Day 24 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

The next day, Beca was still reeling from Jesse's announcement and wanting her to move to New York with him. She was sitting at her desk, staring at her computer screen, which had gone to sleep from lack of use.

"Hey," Theo said from the doorway, causing Beca to jump a bit.

"Hey," Beca said, looking over at Theo.

"Are you alright?" Theo asked.

"Yeah, just lost in thought," Beca said. "So, what's up?"

"I am taking you to dinner tonight," Theo said. "I have something very important to discuss with you."

"Oh," Beca said, eyebrows raised in question. "What is it?"

"All will be revealed tonight," Theo said with a smile. "I'll pick you up at seven and dress nice."

"Okay, sure," Beca said, somewhat absentmindedly.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Theo asked with some concern. "You don't seem to be yourself."

"I'm sorry," Beca said and stood to put her arms around Theo's waist. "I have a lot on my mind. I'll be better by the time we have dinner."

"Good," Theo said and kissed Beca. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah, see you later," Beca said.

After Theo was gone, Beca flopped back down in her chair and thought about Jesse and Theo.

~ Day 24 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

The next day, Beca was an emotional wreck. She was waiting at the airport for Chloe to arrive and couldn't sit or stand still, so she paced back and forth. She was glad she was able to have a car and driver available, so she didn't have to drive.

Beca spotted Chloe coming toward the baggage claim and ran to meet her. The two collided and wrapped their arms around the other in a hug.

"I've missed you," Chloe mumbled in Beca's hair.

"I've missed you, too," Beca mumbled into Chloe's shoulder.

"I need to get my bags," Chloe said, trying to pull out of the hug, only to have Beca tighten her grip.

"Not yet," Beca said, causing Chloe to smile and sink back into the hug.

Chloe could practically feel the tension leaving Beca's body. They stood there until the buzzer sounded, indicating the luggage was on the belt and coming out.

Beca let go of Chloe, and they made their way to the carousel. Beca's driver asked which bag, and Chloe pointed one out as it came around.

"Is that it?" Beca asked.

"No, that one's mine, too," Chloe said, pointing to another bag.

The driver took the two bags and followed behind Beca and Chloe. Chloe, of course, wrapped her arm around Beca's and leaned into her as they walked.

"So, you have your own driver now," Chloe said. "I feel so special."

"You are special," Beca said, causing Chloe's hear to skip a beat.

Beca and Chloe were seated in the back of the SUV, and Beca told Chloe everything that had happened with Jesse and Theo over the past few days.

They arrived at Beca's apartment building, and Beca led Chloe and the driver to her apartment. As soon as Beca opened the door, she stood aside to let her driver place Chloe's luggage inside.

"Thanks, Ben," Beca said as the driver turned and left.

"Merry Christmas," Ben said.

"Merry Christmas," Beca and Chloe said together.

Ben left, and Beca closed the door as Chloe stood and looked around the apartment.

"Wow," Chloe said. "Who decorated this place? I know it wasn't you. Too Christmassy."

"Hey," Beca said, laughing. "I'll have you know that I hung the wreath on the door."

"And it looks exquisite," Chloe said with a grin.

"I hired someone to decorate for me," Beca said. "Only because I knew you'd never survive Christmas without the place being overly-decorated."

"Thank you," Chloe said with a smug grin. "You can show me around later. I'm hungry, can we order something and stay in tonight? We can finish our talk about Jesse and Theo."

"Sure," Beca said, smirking. "One good thing is that they're both gone until after Christmas. You won't have to compete with them for my attention."

"As if there was any competition," Chloe said. "I will always win."

"That's true," Beca laughed. "So, what do you want to have for dinner tonight?"

"Mexican?"

"I know just the place," Beca said, pulling out her phone.

After Beca ordered, Chloe asked if she could change into something more comfortable. They each grabbed one of Chloe's suitcases, and Beca led Chloe to the guest room.

"Wow," Chloe said upon entering the bedroom. "This is nice."

"I had it decorated like this because the colors remind me of you," Beca said. "And I wanted you to like it so you'd visit more often."

"I might just take you up on that," Chloe said, setting her suitcase on the bed and opening it.

"I'll let you change," Beca said. "Come to the living room when you're done."

"Thanks, Beca," Chloe said as Beca left the room.

~ Day 24 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

The food arrived just as Chloe came back to the living room. Beca noticed that not only had Chloe changed into sweats and a t-shirt, but she had removed her makeup as well.

"You are not real," Beca said, looking at Chloe. "No one should look that good without makeup, and yet, here you are, looking better than anyone has a right to."

"Thanks, Beca," Chloe said, blushing. "That's so sweet."

Chloe kissed Beca on the cheek, and Beca blushed. Chloe sat on the sofa and started looking in the bags of food. She set everything on the table as she removed it from the bag.

"Beer?" Beca asked.

"Yes, please," Chloe responded.

Becawent to the kitchen and came back with two beers. She handed Chloe a beer, and they both settled on the sofa and started eating. Beca asked Chloe about her job search after getting her teaching degree. Chloe answered and asked Beca about her album.

They had been sitting in comfortable silence for a bit as they finished their food. Chloe wiped her mouth and took a sip of beer.

"We need to get back to the conversation we had in the car," Chloe said. "We got to the point where Jesse asked you to move to New York with him, and Theo had asked you to move in with him here. So, what are your thoughts?"

"I don't know," Beca said, putting the last bit of her taco in her mouth.

Chloe waited as Beca ate and then drank some beer. She knew Beca was gathering her thoughts, so she sat quietly, waiting for Beca to begin talking.

Beca set her beer on the table and looked at Chloe. Chloe looked back at Beca.

"Okay, so, I know I should feel bad because Jesse doesn't know I'm dating Theo, and Theo doesn't know I'm dating Jesse, but I don't. And I know it's a dick move to date both of them at the same time, but I like each of them equally, but neither of them has stood out as being a better option over the other. I might love them both, but I don't feel that I'm in love with either one."

Chloe swallowed and tried not to show how painful it was for her to listen to Beca talk about the two people she loved, and neither of them was her.

"So, what are the things you like about Theo?" Chloe asked.

"Well, Theo is easygoing and has helped me navigate through the ups and downs of being a recognized recording artist. It is somewhat unsettling when you're not used to it. He's charming and always the gentleman. He always makes me smile whenever we are together. He is all the right things about the entertainment side of my life."

"And what about Jesse?"

"Jesse is easygoing as well, and he's still the goofy guy I fell for back in college. He is the memories of a somewhat calmer time in her life. He also always makes me smile whenever we are together. He feels safe," Beca said. "Wait, no, I mean, I feel safe when I'm with him."

"Sounds like you have a really tough decision to make," Chloe said and yawned.

"That's why I need your help," Beca whined, looking at Chloe. "They are both great guys, and I should be able to pick one of them. I just don't know how to choose or who to choose."

"I'm sorry, Beca," Chloe said, yawning again. "I'm exhausted. Can we pick this up in the morning? I'll be refreshed then and can give you proper insight into your oh so tragic dilemma of two mean wanting you."

"Shut up," Beca said, shoving Chloe's shoulder.

Chloe laughed and leaned down to hug Beca. "I'll see you in the morning.

"I'm glad you're here," Beca said, pulling out of the hug.

"Me, too, Becs," Chloe said. "Me, too."

~ Day 24 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

Beca tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about what she was going to do. When she woke the next morning, she was no closer to a decision than when she went to bed the night before.

Beca couldn't take the tossing and turning and got out of bed early. She made a pot of coffee and was sitting at her counter, staring into her cup when she heard Chloe coming down the hall.

"Hey, Chlo," Beca said when Chloe came shuffling into the kitchen. "How'd you sleep."

"Okay, I guess," Chloe said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "I tossed and turned quite a bit. At one point, I almost came into your room to make you cuddle with me."

Beca laughed. "I'm glad you didn't. I tossed and turned as well and didn't get much sleep."

"Still haven't decided what to do about Jesse and Theo?"

"No," Beca said. "All I do know is that I like being in L.A. But, on the other hand, you're still in New York, so that would be a plus if I chose Jesse. Theo is a big part of my life and career right now, and he's getting me recognition. He can also help me transition to being a producer, which is a plus for him."

"Okay," Chloe said. "I was thinking about this after I went to bed last night. I have an exercise I want you to do."

"I'm too tired to exercise," Beca whined, laying her head on the counter.

"It's not a physical exercise," Chloe said. "It's an emotional exercise."

Beca lifted her head. "Emotional exercise?"

"Yeah," Chloe said. "You just have to listen. I'm going to give you a scenario, and you have to say who you see in that scenario with you. Understand?"

"I think so," Beca said. "Hit me with it."

Chloe took a sip of her coffee. "Okay. There was a Grey's Anatomy episode where Callie has to decide whether or not to follow her girlfriend Penny when she moves to New York."

"I didn't watch most of that season," Beca said. "I shipped Callie and Arizona and hated Penny. Still do."

"Me, too," Chloe said. "But, that's not the point. Anyway, so Bailey tells Callie to close her eyes and think about the future. So, close your eyes."

"Do I have to?" Beca asked.

"For this to work, yes, you have to," Chloe said.

"Fine," Beca said, closing her eyes.

"So, picture a few years from now, and your daughter is playing soccer for Team USA in the Olympics. You're in the stands watching, and your daughter kicks in the winning goal. Can you see it, Becs?" At Beca's nod, Chloe continued. "Everyone in the stands is shouting Mitchell, Mitchell, Mitchell, and you are shouting louder than anyone else. You look over to the person standing next to you, and they are cheering as loud as you are. Who is standing next to you, cheering on your daughter, Jesse or Theo?"

Beca keeps her eyes closed; she turns her head as if looking to see who is standing next to her. She furrows her brow and turns her head to the other side. Her eyes suddenly fly open, and she stared wide-eyed at Chloe.

"So who is it, Becs?" Chloe asked. "Theo or Jesse? Who's standing next to you, cheering on your daughter with you?"

"You," Beca whispered.

"What?" Chloe let out a small gasp.

"It's you," Beca said, louder. "It, it's always been you. I can't believe I just now figured it out. Oh, my God, Chloe! I'm in love with you, and I think I have been for a while." Beca realized what she had just blurted out, and her face reddened. "Shit."

Beca looked scared and stared at Chloe. She noticed Chloe wipe a tear from her eye.

"Are you for real right now?" Chloe asked sniffling.

"I, uh, yes, I am," Beca said in wonderment. "I'm sorry if this makes you-"

Chloe smashed her lips to Beca's, causing a grunt of surprise to escape from Beca's lips. Chloe pulled back, and Beca grabbed her around the neck and pulled her back into another kiss.

"Wow," Beca said when the kiss ended.

"Are you okay?" Chloe asked.

"I've never been better," Beca said, smiling. Her smile dropped as she asked, "Are you okay?"

"I am now," Chloe said, smiling. "I've wanted to tell you how I felt for the longest time, but our timing always sucked."

"You mean, you love me, too?"

"Yes," Chloe said. "I mean, I love you, too."

Beca kissed Chloe again.

"This might just be the best Christmas ever," Beca said.

"What about Jesse and Theo?" Chloe asked. "Aren't you cheating on them with me now?"

"Shit," Beca said. "I forgot about them." Beca thought for a moment before saying, "But, honestly, I feel like I've been cheating on you with them. I'll call them both later and tell them my decision."

"Which is?" Chloe asked. "I just need to hear you say it again."

"My decision is that I choose you," Beca said. "Now, enough about them. Right now, I want to focus all my attention on you."

"Good answer," Chloe said, pulling Beca to her.

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A/N: Yay! Finally - 24 down, 1 to go. Thanks for hanging in there with me. Day 25 will be up in a day or two (I need to give it one more read before I post it).

#bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale

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girlinthepictureframe · 5 years

Text

The Briefest Kiss Part 12

P 12

Miles woke up feeling better rested and more at ease with the world than he had felt in a long, long time. The warm rays of the early morning sun were softly warming his cheek, the pillow had taken on the perfect shape around his head and Alex's short strands of hair were gently tickling his neck. All of that made him almost forget that he had an awful, throbbing headache. Damned Alex and his damned Vodka!

His eyes flew open. He held his breath as his view drifted towards his side, where Alex Turner, platonic friend and absolutely not sleeping-mate, was snoring softly, curled up against his side. Miles became aware that he had one arm tightly wrapped around him, keeping him impossibly close.

Oh no. Not again.

Had they not, just yesterday, promised to each other never to do this very thing ever again?

Miles took another glance at Alex. He was wearing clothes. It was the same shirt he had worn yesterday. And he himself was wearing clothes as well. And shoes, as he now sensed. His alertness began to return him. The sleepiness began to drift away.

Images of last night began to fill his head. Alex had made them omelets. Then they had played guitars for a bit. At some point a bottle of Vodka had appeared. Naturally, they had begun drinking it. Alex had spent half an hour meticulously going through the notes in his biology book, trying and failing to figure out why Miles wanted it. They had laughed and chatted and enjoyed each other's company. At some point in the middle of the night he'd crawled into Alex's bed. He had a vague memory of Alex crawling in with him.

And now here they were.

On the wrong side of the 'we are just friends'-fence.

He felt movements next to him. In a wild blur of movements, Alex jumped out of bed and stood next to it, staring at Miles in shock and confusion. “Oh God! Did we...?”

“NO!”

“Good!” Alex squinted, shook his head. “It's good, right! I mean, you know what I mean. Right? Right?!”

“Alex? We're good. It's good.”

“Good.”

“We need to be more careful, don't we?” Miles couldn't believe how reckless they had been. “The whole boundaries-thing, it's new. We should pay more attention to it.”

“Definitely,” agreed Alex and nodded. He rubbed his eyes, sat back down on the bed. Leaned back against the headboard. Looked down at Miles. And promptly jumped up again. Miles got up just as quickly. Reckless, indeed.

“Coffee,” suggested Miles. “We need coffee. Lots of it.”

Alex followed him out of the room wordlessly. Downstairs, the dining room table was set with two plates, a pot of no-longer steaming coffee rested in the middle, surrounded by toast, butter and scrambled eggs. David Turner was sitting in the corner of the room, by the window, reading the newspaper.

“Mornin', boys. Nice of you to show up. Almost noon already.”

Had they slept that long? Miles blinked a few times, still a bit sleepy and a whole lot shaken from waking up next to Alex. His just-a-friend Alex. His very soft, warm, tempting, deliciously well-smelling, surprisingly cuddly friend Alex. The very one who was giving him a strange look just now. “Huh?”

“Did you just moan?”

Did he? Get a grip, Miles admonished himself. “No, I yawned!”

“Okay.” Alex appeared unconvinced but nonetheless busied himself with breakfast. “Will you stay today? Should we make plans?”

“No,” said Miles and was grateful for a topic which he felt much more equipped to handle at this early – or late – hour of the morning. “I hadn't intended on staying the night,” he admitted. But he'd been unable to leave. Being around Alex after all that time apart had felt too good to give up too soon. “I'm leaving for Los Angeles tomorrow. I have yet to pack and get some stuff.” And he needed, ridiculous as it sounded, a bit of space. So much of Alex after such a long period of longing for him was overloading his senses.

“So you leave already?”

He heard the disappointment and tried to explain it to him. “Well, yeah. You know, I was offered to open for you in Mexico and figured I'd spend the days before that visiting some old friends. There's a tv appearance I have to do as well. And the band and I haven't played a whole set in a bit so we definitely need to rehearse.” He also hadn't intended to be friends with Alex again at this point. The idea of spending the weekend in Mexico with him and the Monkeys had been a bit intimidating to say the least so he had planned on staying as busy as possible in the days leading up to it. Now he wished he'd some more free time on his hands. “When will you and the band head to Mexico?”

“Next week or so,” said Alex. “We haven't fully decided yet.” He nibbled on a dry toast. “Will you be in Mexico for your birthday?”

“No, LA.” Miles wasn't too happy about the prospect of spending that day without Alex. “We'll have to celebrate when we meet again, then.”

“No way,” stated Alex and placed the toast away, rubbing his hands to get rid of the crumbs. “I'll come to LA. I'll figure it out. We'll figure it out.”

“You have rehearsals and all that!” Miles wanted to spend his day with Alex, but he also didn't want to be responsible for him falling behind on his band-duties. “Your tour continues soon!”

Alex waved him off. “We've been playing the same songs over and over again for a year. Trust me, I can do with one day less of rehearsals! I'll be there, Miles. Gift and all.” Alex smiled. “Which reminds me, I still have your Christmas gift. Shit, where did I take it?”

Miles chuckled. “What do mean, where did you take it? And you know I don't need any gifts from you. Having you there is more than enough, Al!”

“That's sweet, but nonsense.” Alex snapped his fingers. “London! I took it to London! No wait...I didn't unpack in London. I think it's in Paris by now.”

After checking the time while Alex pondered his last stays, Miles got up. “Shit, I have to get ready. Mind if I take a shower, maybe borrow a shirt?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Since when do you have to ask. Just go do it. My home is your home!”

“My home,” muttered Alex's father from the corner of the room.

“Whatever,” said Alex.

“Thanks,” grinned Miles.

Mid March

“Look at you,” grinned Jamie as Miles blew out the candles of his birthday cake, “getting older and older.”

“Getting crinklier each year,” added Nick.

“Is that a grey hair?” wondered Matt.

Alex, who sat next to Miles, and across from the other Monkeys, chuckled. Some other people were there as well. It was midnight, the night before Miles' birthday. They had all come out to LA to celebrate and party into the day for they had to leave the next one.

“Fellas, I love you all,” pronounced Miles full of joy, grabbed his glass and lifted it for a toast. “To new beginnings and a fucking amazing time!” He slung one arm loosely around Alex. All in the name of a platonic friendship, he told himself, and not because his friend looked downright fuckable in that tightly fitted shirt. Alex's smile got bigger and Miles took that as reassurance that he hadn't yet crossed any barb-wired, high-voltage-barred lines. So deep into the night and so far from being sober, he had to be extremely careful with where he placed his steps. One inch too far and then what?

“To the new and improved us,” said Alex quietly into Miles' ear while everyone else busied themselves with the cake. “Happy Birthday, Miles. Will you come outside with me for a moment?”

“Of course!” His arm slipped from Alex's shoulder but Alex caught his hand, held on to it and while he didn't entwine their fingers as they would have done in the old days, he still grabbed them tightly. It did funny things to Miles' stomach. 'Watch out,” chimed his conscience – a hollow and ignored warning. When they reached the patio of the restaurant, Miles gave Alex all of his attention.“What's on your mind, Al?” He had wanted to call him 'love', as he used to, but had stopped himself just in time.

Alex reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small envelope. “I wanted to give you your birthday present. But I'm not sure you'll like it so I didn't want any witnesses!” He held out the envelope. “For you. I put a lot of thought into it!”

Miles smiled radiantly. “Is it a gift certificate for Bed, Bath and Beyond?”

“Better,” assured Alex.

“Oh, Ikea?”

“Just open it, will you?”

Miles did. And the smile fell from his face. “Alex. What have you done?” He sat down on the nearest bench and took a closer look at what he was holding. It was a post card with the image of a beach with penguins on it, and the backside read, 'One trip to Boulder Beach, South Africa, to spend a week with the penguins.' He looked up, finding Alex nervously trying and failing to light a cigarette.

“It's just a gift, Mi.”

Alex hadn't called him that in half a year. What an odd little jump his heart did at that. But it wasn't enough to distract him from Alex's generous gift. “It's too much!”

“Miles, trust me. I can afford it. You can afford it! I always wondered why you haven't gone there already. You always wanted to see them.” He finally got the cigarette lit up and inhaled deeply. “It doesn't have a fixed date. I'll give you the official paperwork later. You can go whenever you want. And it's for two people, so you can take a friend or...you know...somebody.” The last word he said almost inaudibly.

“There's no somebody,” Miles pointed out right away. It mattered a great deal to him that Alex knew that.

“Doesn't matter, does it? Someday there will be a somebody.” Alex just wouldn't meet Miles' eyes, no matter how hard he tried to catch his sight. “Wait until then. Or not. Go now. Take your mom. I was just trying to get you something nice. Like I said, it's always been your dream.”

Miles' dream was going to the most exotic place in the world, where it was either warm and sunny, or cold and snowy, or wet and stormy, and see something so remote and rare and beautiful that he would remember it for the rest of his life. But that wasn't the part that mattered most to him. He wanted to go there with Alex. He wanted to share the memory with him. At some point he'd mentioned wanting to see penguins and it had become a thing. But he didn't so much care for the penguins as he cared for person who'd be standing next to him once he got to them. It had become a dream he'd almost given up on last year. There were times when he doubted he'd share any kind of memory with Alex ever again.

Yet here he was. With Alex. And all he had to do was tell him to pack his bag and join him. Dream come true. Only, Alex would never know that he was part of Miles' dream. Which, in return, made the whole dream lose all meaning.

“I do suck at gifts, don't I?” Alex sat down next to him as a shadow of sadness cast over his face. He flipped the dead cigarette away.

Miles wrapped his arm around Alex's shoulder, pulled him against his side and kissed his head. He knew he was pushing the boundary hard at the moment, but he felt bereft of any other option. He needed his next words to land so he spoke them as sternly as he could. “I love you. This gift is incredibly thoughtful and you'll never know how grateful I am for it. You tried to make my dream come true. That means the world to me! But,” he spoke softly, handing back the post card, “I can't take it.”

“Why not?” Asked Alex, not making any moves to detach himself from Miles.

“It's too much, Alex. It's too big. It's not the kind of gift you and I should be making each other.”

Alex wiggled his arm free, curled it around Miles' neck and returned the kiss, pressing his lips to Miles' forehead. “I truly don't understand why you're doing it. Being honest here!” His expression got softer. “But I know you wouldn't do it unless you got your reasons.” He finally met Miles' eyes. Then he placed the card back into his pocket. “Can I at least invite you to a movie once we're back in London? If you're afraid it'll be too big of a gift, you can pay for your own popcorn!”

A bashful grin lit up his face and he found Alex's pouty reply adorable. “Don't worry, babe. You can buy me all the popcorn in the world. And chocolate. And gummy bears. I'll endeavor to be the most expensive date of your life!”

Alex laughed, all remnants of sadness gone from his face. Then he paused and met Miles' happy expression with a one of equal parts perplexity and mockery. Alex's one brow curved upward in that certain way that Miles found unbelievably sexy.

That was until his own words sank in, at which point he rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell! Not date, damnit! Evening. And now I actually am tempted to pay for my own popcorn!”

“Don't you dare,” warned Alex and smirked. They still held on to each other. “Oh, hey, I've been meaning to ask you something. Did you take my black shirt? The one with the white stripes? I had it Sheffield, but now I can't find it anymore. And I know you took something out of my bag. But you vanished so bloody fast that day, I hardly saw you after breakfast!”

“I had to catch the train,” said Miles defensively. “You told me to take whatever!”

“That's my favorite shirt!”

“And it looks really good on me!” He flashed him a saucy grin. “Want it back?”

“Oh, you bet I do! Expect me to come get it later!”

“Here you are!” Matt called from the terrace door. “There's a birthday party happening on the inside but the guest of honor has gone missing!”

“On our way,” assured Miles, grabbed Alex's hand and pulled him along, back inside. “By the way, I also took your black alligator leather belt!”

“Fuck, Miles! I searched for hours for that thing!” Alex's hand went to Miles' suit jacket, pushed it upward. “Are you wearing it now? You are! I don't believe you!” He curled his fingers around the buckle. “Give it to me right now!”

They came to a halt in a corner. Miles stopped, Alex bumped against Miles' front and suddenly their lips were only an inch apart. Alex still held on to Miles' belt. For a long moment the world stopped moving. It was just them, in a room full of people, who, in that very instant, all ceased to exist.

Miles could smell the liquor on Alex's breath, felt the pulsating drum of his own heart that came with being so close to him. Alex's fingers, glued to the belt buckle, were entirely too close to one undeniably curious part of his anatomy and when his friend's eyes dropped down, coming to linger on his lips, Miles could feel the remnants of his self-control fighting with the legions of lust which had all come prepared for battle. “Boundary,” he whispered, damning himself for remembering just how insanely kissable Alex's lips were. “We must keep a distance.”

Alex nodded shakily. He carefully let go of the belt. Took a step backwards. “Drink?”

“Yes!”

Three hours later, and so fucking drunk they could no longer walk straight lines, Miles and Alex stumbled down the hallway of Miles' apartment, not singing but shouting the lyrics to one of their old tunes.

“And she tried so hard,” went Alex.

“To steal away from the Meeting Place,” followed Miles.

“Steer away.” Alex halted. “Door!”

“Why should I steer away from my door?” His mind was too foggy for Alex's vague remark. “Be more specific. I'm very drunk!”

Alex laughed. A drunken, gigglish laugh. “Lyrics, Mi. Steer away. Not steal away. However,” he said, holding up a finger to emphasize his words, “steal away would work. Or not?” He blinked once. Twice. “What were you saying?”

Miles frowned. “I don't know. What was I saying?” The hallway began to spin. “We should get inside. I think the floor is about to give out. I swear I just saw it move!”

“The floor?” Alex shook his head. Then his hand shot out, holding onto Miles' shoulder. “Oh, I saw it too! It's a trick floor! Must be.”

“I've heard of those,” said Miles. “Why won't you open the door?” He gave Alex a disapproving look. Time was running out on them. Although he couldn't say why. His thoughts were very confusing at the moment.

“It's your place.”

“I live here?”

Alex nodded.

“Oh. Oh, I have to unlock then!” And he did. Or tried. Tried again. And, at long last, succeeded. “Voila! Ooh, that's a french word. I just spoke French!”

Loud, vibrating laughter bursted from Alex. “Well done, Miles. Well done!” And he stumbled inside.

Miles followed him into the apartment, got rid of his jacket and kicked off his shoes. “Good night!”

“Wait, Mi. My belt!”

“Right!” He lifted his shirt, undid the buckle and pulled it out of the loops with one swift move before holding it out for Alex. His friend looked at him with heavy, lidded eyes, an expression of dark, vicious hunger on his face. “Why are looking me like I'm a chocolate cake?”

Alex licked in lips and gulped. Which, in return, made Miles zoom in on Alex's mouth. His perfectly shaped, undoubtedly warm and luscious mouth. “You look at me like I'm a bloody burger,” retorted Alex and took a step towards him. “I want my shirt, too!”

“What shirt? This shirt?”

“No, my shirt. My favorite shirt.” Another step. Alex pressed his still outstretched but until now forgotten finger into Miles' chest. “Black shirt. White stripes. You took it, you thief.”

“Only cause it smells of you,” confessed Miles. “Oh, I said that out loud, didn't I?” His eyes dropped to where Alex was touching his chest. “You mustn't tell yourself this, it's a sinful secret, and you and I friends, so we don't share sinful secrets,” he whispered, “but I so very much like the way you smell!” His head dipped down a little bit, his forehead now touching Alex's. “I really, really, really like the way you smell.”

Alex's flattened his palm against Miles' front, began rubbing up and down in small, languid strokes. He pressed his nose against that of his friend. “I miss how you used to smell,” admitted Alex, his voice low and husky. “But you changed your cologne.”

“Cause you told me to,” Miles reminded him.

“I know. I'm stupid like that.”

Now both of Alex's hands travelled across the planes of Miles' upper body, wrecking havoc on Miles's control. In the very far, dimly lit part of his head where his self-control was drifting off to sleep and his better judgement was struggling to remain awake, his wild desires crept from the shadows. Having Alex touch him like this was like a jolt of pure, uncontrollable energy. Every carefully sedated fiber of desire was shocked back to life.

Alex curled a hand around Miles' neck, dug his nose into his skin, tempting Miles to let go of the reigns and allow his arousal to run free. When Alex began to nuzzle along Miles' jawbone, then lower, near his earlobe, Miles closed his eyes, holding on the last shards of control. “Boundaries,” he reminded him in a voice so hoarse and strained he barely recognized it as his own.

“I'm not breaking boundaries,” claimed Alex in a bold-faced lie, with a tone that betrayed all pretense. “I'm just trying to figure out if I like your new cologne.”

“Figure it out faster,” begged Miles.

He felt Alex smile against the overly sensitive skin just behind his earlobe. “Why?”

“Cause I'm about to lose it.”

Alex detached from Miles, met his eyes, but couldn't focus on them. His gaze kept dropped to Miles' lips. Alex touched his cheek, angling his head with one hand as he took hold of Miles' tie with his other one, grabbing it near the knot, fisting it. “Lose it, then.”

A heartbeat passed. And then they were kissing. Wild, reckless and uncontrollable. There was nothing slow and soft or even tender about it. Just open mouths, wet tongues and filthy, dirty lust at its finest. Miles found himself pushed up against the back of his sofa, digging into the soft hair of Alex's outgrown buzzcut, craving his friend's kiss so utterly, so absolutely, that he couldn't even stop to undress him.

And that's when it hit him.

Here they were. Again. Six months later. Doing the same fucking thing. A wave of nausea and disgust overcame him and he pushed Alex off him. “Stop! Stop, damnit!”

Alex stumbled backwards, dazed and breathless.

“Fucking hell,” shot Miles, burying his face in his hands. When Alex made a move towards him, Miles quickly moved away, around the sofa. A physical barrier was exactly what he needed. “What are we doing?”

Alex, still looking lost, shrugged. “What we both wanted?”

“What we— Are you fucking kidding me? We're barely back to being friends, Alex! No kissing, we said.”

“I know!”

“Then why are we fucking kissing?!”

“'Cause you were there and I was there and...” Alex rubbed his face. “Damnit, Miles! Do you have any idea how hard it is not to kiss you? It's all I can think about. All day. All night. All the fucking time! When you're in reach, when I all I have to do is grab you, it becomes impossible not to do it. I know we said we would keep a distance. But had I no idea it would be so bloody hard! I want to follow our rules but…Miles, it has never been this way before! I've never longed so completely, so overwhelmingly for anyone in my life. I'm fucking starving for you! And I know you don't understand what I'm talking about but��”

“Every single cell in my body craves you, Alex.” Miles wanted to laugh. Not understand him? Oh, how fucking ridiculous that idea was! “There are moments when I want you so badly I could tear out my hair! I wake up in the middle of the night and find myself screaming into my pillow cause I've dreamt about you and I'm fucking hard and you're just not there to have! So don't you dare tell me I don't understand what you're talking about!”

Alex made his way around the sofa. “If I want you and you want me, why can't we—”

“'Cause it will ruin our friendship and you know it!” As if he hadn't thought about it! As if the thought of just giving in to his needs didn't cross his mind every minute, every hour, every day! But it would never be enough. It wasn't the physical act of being with Alex that satisfied him so greatly – even though it was very well-satisfying! – it was the act of being with Alex. It was the act of being entwined with the one the person that knew him inside and out. It was the act of sharing immense pleasure with the one person he knew inside and out.

What Alex suggested would no doubt please his body. But it would drain his soul and lay waste to his heart. It would kill him slowly. And it would lead to the bitter end of a beautiful friendship. Miles sat down on the sofa, staring at Alex, hoping he understood any of it. “You and I aren't made to for something like that. And I will never risk losing you for just a bit of sex!”

Alex dropped down next to him. “I don't remember how we used to do this, Miles. We've been best friends for almost half of our lives. Until now, we've never had a need for boundaries and lines. What changed?”

“Nothing changed.” The haze from the liquor began to settle and the lingering adrenaline from almost detonating his renewed friendship with Alex had helped him regain some control of his mind. But his body was tired. His limbs felt heavy. His muscles were sore, almost as if he'd run a marathon. “Think about it, Alex. You say we never needed any lines? We built a bloody minefield! But we didn't place it around our hands and lips. We locked our hearts in. We always pretended that all we did was play around. We pushed each other. We were reckless. There's a reason you never stayed the night when we shared a bed, even if it was just for sleep. There's a reason we don't ever explain our lyrics or question each other about them.”

Averting his eyes, getting up, then pacing the room, Alex struggled and Miles could tell. But wasn't it time they talked about this? Alex stopped to stare at the ceiling, then squeezed his eyes shut. “There isn't a line or a word in any of all that I've ever written that—there's nothing that ever needed to be locked off!”

“Golden Trunks. Is it about me?”

Alex shot him a look of crimson anger. “I know that she told you that it is. There's no reason to rehash this!”

“That's what I'm fucking talking about, Alex! This is you, drawing big, fat line.”

“What do you want me to fucking say, Miles? Huh?! Do you need me to spill it out for you? Yes, okay? Yes, I, Alex Turner, fantasize about you. How's that a new information?” he asked full of biting sarcasm.

“You broke up with the woman whose name you had inked on your arm over a line in a song that barely anyone even knows!”

“So did you,” Alex snapped irately. Then he walked up to Miles, to tower in front of him. “You want honesty? Tell me what you and Taylor were fighting over two years ago!”

Miles looked away. “You really don't want to know.”

“Oh, I do!”

2017

“I owe you an apology.” Miles took a seat next to Taylor by the pool of Alex' LA home. Alex was in the midst of a discussion with some other people which had come to one of his impromptu-barbecues. The other Monkeys were in town as well, all busy with recording their new album. Taylor crossed her arms as she met Miles' eyes. He sighed. “I mean it, T. I did something that I shouldn't have done for a vast variety of reasons. But most importantly, I shouldn't have done it because he wasn't mine to kiss. I'm sorry.”

“To be perfectly honest, I couldn't care less about the kiss.” She looked away, distracted by some noises coming from the pool. She kept her attention there. “You broke Hannah's heart.”

“I know.” He looked elsewhere, too, now. “And she knows I never intended for it to happen. That's doesn't take away from what I did, though. It was a bad—”

“Her heart was doomed when you asked her to be your girlfriend,” said Taylor, startling Miles. “And so was mine, by the way, when I asked him out and he said yes.”

“Taylor,” tried Miles, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“No, I'm not done. You and Alex have fans, did you know? Fans who care less about your music and more about your personal relationship? At first I found it funny, even a bit cute. Then I observed the two of you on tour. On stage. I even saw him snuck out of your room once, in the middle of the night, in a bathrobe, when I came to surprise him. I never told him that.”

“He fell asleep on the bloody couch,” lied Miles, annoyed. He felt caught. A strange, irritating emotion.

“Fucking liar!” She shot loudly.

“Would you calm down,” Miles hissed. “There are other people here!”

“Why should I care? Are you suddenly worried people might get the wrong idea about you and Alex?” She tossed out a bitter laugh. “I don't believe that you played Hannah or that he's pretending to care for me. But deep down,” she told him as she stared into his eyes, “you know there's something more going on. Tell me that I'm wrong. Tell me that it's all just make-believe for the fans. Tell me!”

He couldn't tell her.

“Here's why the thought of me didn't keep you from kissing my boyfriend: you think he belongs to you. You consider him yours. Want to apologize? Apologize for that.”

They sat in silence for a while and Miles let her words sink in. He had to give it to her, she did struck a nerve. And it made him angry. It unraveled him that she read him so well, even though he worked so bloody hard to keep those feelings to himself. It pissed him off that she had the nerve to state so bluntly what he himself tried so hard to deny. And it annoyed him that she looked so fucking smug about it.

“No apology?” Taylor smirked. “Must bother you that he hasn't broken up with me yet.”

Miles bit his tongue, tried to be better than her, tried to fight his urge to sink low. He knew that she was hurt. He knew it was his fault.

“Guess my kiss tastes better than yours.”

And he lost the fight. “Every night he didn't spend in your arms,” whispered Miles, leaning into her to make sure she was the only one who heard, “he spent in mine.” Then he got up, grabbed his jacket and left.

Present Day

Alex watched him impatiently. “Seriously, Miles. I want to know!”

“There goes our friendship,” murmured Miles and got up, to walk over to the window. He lit himself a cigarette. “Short version? I apologized, she said some stuff I didn't want to hear and I said something to shut her up and make her feel bad.”

“You insulted her?” Alex sounded so surprised. “She would have told me that. And you don't insult people! You've never done that!”

“It wasn't an insult, okay? It was a lie. Or not.” He rolled his eyes, met Alex's. “Why is that so important now?”

“'Cause ever since that argument she believed that you and I were in love.”

Miles wanted to laugh so badly. It was all so insanely ridiculous. He was in love with Alex. And he let Taylor believe that had spent countless nights 'with' Alex. As his lover. Which, in a sense, wasn't even a lie! He loved him and he had spent the nights with him. Only, he hadn't known then that he was in love with Alex. Or had he? Had he known all along? Had he been in love from the very beginning? And had Taylor been right after all? Had he really considered Alex to be his, for all that time? “Would you believe me when I tell you I have a headache?”

Alex frowned. “Why wouldn't I believe that, Miles? What's going on?”

“I'm finding it difficult to believe my own words, lately.” He turned his head to find Alex standing next to him, a concerned look on his face. “I find myself saying one thing and then end up doing the other. I tell you I want to be your friend and then I kiss you. I ask you for honesty and I find myself unable to respond with the same. I tell we can't kiss again and then…I do this.” He cupped Alex's face, cigarette still tugged between his fingers, and kissed him.

But it wasn't fast, or hard, or anything their kisses usually were. It was slow, and gentle, and his heart broke splinter by splinter with each languid stroke of his tongue. He felt Alex's hands and arms as they made their way around his torso, bringing them closer. What a dangerous kiss this was, not lacking of lust yet fed with feelings. It was a kiss of love, and his friend allowed it to happen, allowed him to have it. Miles felt horrible. After a last lingering moment, he let go and stepped back. “I'm not ready to be around you again.”

Alex leaned against the window, hazy and dark-eyed. Completely out of it. “What?”

“Don't you see, Al? I can't control it yet. It's exactly as you said, impossible not to kiss.”

“Let's work on that together, then!”

“How's that going to work? We sit in a room and applaud ourselves for every minute we spent not making out?” He sad, self-deprecating chuckle slipped from his lips.

“I just got you back in my life. I won't let you walk out of it, just because it's complicated and hard and requires effort!”

“You want a reason to let me go? Let me give you one. I told Taylor we fucked on the regular.”

A few seconds ticked down. And then? Then Alex combusted in laughter. Loud, rumbling, tears-streaming-from-the-eyes laughter. “That's what that was all about?” More laughter. “Oh that explains so much!” More laughter still.

Miles jaw all but dropped. “Why is it so funny? I don't get it.”

Alex shrugged. “I have no idea!” He wiped the tears from his eyes, still amused. “I just find it hilarious that the two of you made such a big fucking thing out of it, but she wouldn't even come to about it!”

“Well,” added Miles, “she also said I was in love with you.”

“You're not,” said Alex. The amusement died down. “Trust me, I know that.”

Miles didn't respond to that statement. How could Alex be so firm in his belief of it, wondered Miles, considering the kiss they had just shared. And what a testament to Alex's own lack of romantic notions towards him, thought Miles further. He had, after all, returned the kiss as tenderly as Miles had given it. To do that, without love? How different two people could be, he marveled.

“I meant what I said, Al.” Miles turned towards him.

“So did I,” said Alex. Sternly. “You and I are friends. And we'll remain friends. Damn all this attraction nonsense. Let's take smaller steps then. Let's not get drunk together. That seems to lead to no good. God, Miles! We won't even see that much of each other at any rate! I'm stuck on tour with the Monkeys and you have all your gigs across the bloody ocean! You want separation? There you have it! For crying out loud,” he groaned in frustration, “let's do a fucking long-distance phone friendship until I'm back home!”

“I can't perform with you in Mexico.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Come on, Miles! It's not even a Puppets song! It's fucking 505! We always do that together when we're in the same city! Huddle near Matt, Nick or Jamie if you need to!”

“It's not about that, Al.”

“It's been months, Miles. And it'll be our last chance to share a stage for a very long time!”

“Alex, I can't.” The last time they shared a stage together, it left him on the brink of a breakdown. The time before that, it had been odd already. And at that time, they hadn't even done the deed! He wasn't ready to find out how it would feel now. What if the spark was gone? What if there was nothing but awkwardness? Or worse, unease? “Someday, but not yet.”

“I can't force you, can I?” Alex was, without a doubt, disappointed. And he looked as exhausted and as done with it all as Miles felt. “Seriously, Miles. This has to be the worst birthday of yours we've ever celebrated!” He returned to the sofa and leaned back. “We gotta do better next year!”

“We will,” promised Miles and leaned back against the window, hands in his pockets. He spotted the clock on the wall and yawned. “Almost five am already. Time to sleep. It's been a long day.”

Alex shook his head disbelievingly and got up. “Smooth, Kane. Real smooth!” He picked up his jacket from the floor, put it on and tipped his head at Miles. “Keep the belt and the shirt. I'll collect it in London once we're back.” In the doorway, he haltered one last time. “Will I at least see you in Mexico?”

Miles nodded.

Alex nodded, too. And then he was gone.

#the briefest kiss #milex #milex fanfic #milex fanfiction #miles kane alex turner #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic

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