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hankwritten · 3 years

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By the Roots

Scout & Soldier, 2k

Part of the DontNeedADiscord Pride Week, Day 2: Family

Of all the people, all the people on the damn planet, it really shouldn’t have been Soldier that figured it.

“You there! I saw that, pipsqueak!” he demanded not two days after the team was first assembled, storming at me across the training yard like I’d already done something wrong. “Regulation warm-up is fifty pushups, not ten and then exclaiming very loudly ‘FIFTY’ as you do that last one! Do not think because you are a woman I will go easy on you. In fact! I will be riding your ass twice as hard so you will be encouraged to measure up to your clearly more dedicated male counterparts!”

There were a lot of things I could object to in that, a lot of things I was planning to object to, but one thing in particular surprised me so much it practically hit me upside the head. “Whoa, hey dude! I ain’t a chick!”

Soldier lifted his helmet with a thumb and peered down at me. “You are not?”

“No a’course I’m not!” I said, flabbergasted. “Would a chick have sick muscles like this? Or like this?” I should off each of my amazing and impressive biceps in turn, a little shocked that he wasn’t falling over in awe due to their sheer awesomeness. “I am peak dude, pally. Why would you even think that?”

“Your small stature, your chicken legs, your feminine jaw, your general weakness, the unending gab from your motor mouth-” Soldier ticked them off on his fingers.

I swatted down his hands. “Dude, jeez, I get it.”

He considered me again. “…You are sure you are not a very petite yet tomboyish girl?”

“Uh, yeah pally,” I scoffed. “I think I’d know.”

Twenty-two months later, my hard earned ponytail fitting snugly through my hat, I wondered if Soldier knew, somehow. That was stupid obviously—Soldier was completely bonkers even by the team’s standards, and if every weirdly nonsensical thing he’d ever said was true then I’d also be a spy from ten different countries and partially made of ranch dressing. But. I guess some small part of me liked the idea that it was apparent to someone. That there was some hard truth out there, and somehow Soldier was in tune with the weird songs of the universe enough to prophesize me even before I’d divined myself.

I was pretty far from the team’s campfire, the rush of the last hour still coursing through my system. It’d gone as well as I could have hoped, with everyone kind of knowing or at least suspecting by this point anyway, but I’d still been nice to get it all out in the open. A little family meeting of sorts. I smiled, watching them laugh and carry on with their drinking.

“Is something the matter, Scout?”

Spy’s voice startled me, but I totally didn’t jump or nothing, just turned my head as the creepy bastard slinked out of the dark.

“Nah,” I told him. “Was just a lot of adrenaline doing all that. Needed a moment to cool off. Not like I’m nervous or nothin’! Could’a talked about shit all day if those knuckleheads didn’t get it through their bozo craniums, but it’s just like after a run you take a breather to make sure you don’t get heat stroke or something-”

Spy held up a hand. “I understand. No need to elaborate.”

“Great. Cool. Just so you know that I’m not freakin’ out.”

He took a spot next to me, the rocks cool where the desert night came on fast and hit hard. We stayed like that for a while, him smoking, me staring with my chin in my arms.

“You come out here to say you’re surprised or something?” I asked, after the moon had ticked a little lower.

He blew a strand of smoke. “It wasn’t my primary goal, no.” He paused. “Though I was, to be sure.”

“Hah! Yeah you were! You should’ve seen your face.” I grinned, kicking a rock. “I can’t believe you were the last person to find out.”

“…I certainly couldn’t have been the last person to-” Spy stopped when he saw the shit-eating grin I was giving him. “Hm. Fine, I suppose I will take this as a loss to my professional pride.”

“Heh. Nice,” I snorted. “So if that isn’t what you wanted to talk about, what was?”

He hesitated a moment. “Scout if I have ever said something, to you or merely in passing that was…greatly insensitive, then I am sorry. I cannot hide the fact that this is not something I have experience with, and if my past ignorance has ever caused you distress then I apologize fully.”

I blinked. Was he serious? “Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Ah, so I have made some faux pas. Again I’m sorry-”

“No,” I interrupted him. “I mean seriously, don’t worry about it. ‘Cause I don’t.”

Spy looked genuinely confused, already the second time that night when I’d barely seen him make that face in two years of working together. “Pardon?”

“I don’t really care about what you say,” I shrugged. “When it comes to things that bother me, crap my Ma’s shitty boyfriend says about how I look barely makes the list. After however many years of the way you’ve treated me, I’ve just kinda tuned you out.” I shrugged again. “How it is.”

“…Ah.”

I kinda missed when he was surprised, since that was at least easy to read. Now I didn’t know what to make of the mix of emotions crossing Spy’s face, only that I was sorta bored of the conversation.

“If that’s all you wanted to talk about, I’m heading back to the fire,” I said, smacking my legs as I stood. “Cold out here.”

I left Spy, not checking to see if he was still doing that thing with his face.

I honestly was planning on heading over to the fire, but I saw Soldier sitting on the bed of Engie’s truck, not doing anything but staring into space as he sipped his beer. It wasn’t even conscious really, I just suddenly found my feet moving in his direction, abandoning warmth for the lunatic with the bazooka. The weird things we do on instinct sometimes.

“Yo, Major General,” I greeted. “Feel like the smartest guy in the room yet?”

“I have never claimed to be!” Soldier said. “I settle for being the most tactically sound.”

“I meant about me, dumbass,” I rolled my eyes, then hopped on the bed next to him. I scooped up a beer while I was at it.

“You?” He might have been blinking at me under the helmet.

“One of the first times we ever met, you asked me if I was a chick.”

Soldier rubbed his chin, trying to recall. “…You said you weren’t.”

“Well I didn’t know at the time, dumbass.” I cracked my beer. “But now we all know, so congrats to you, pally.” I toasted in his general direction and drank.

“…How is it?”

“The beer or the chick thing?”

“Being a girl.”

“It’s alright,” I admitted, playing it cool. “The ponytail’s great though. Look! I can do this now.” I bobbled my head, showing that my hat stayed on no matter how hard I shook it. I kept bobbling until I almost fell off the truck, Soldier steadying me at the last moment.

“Careful, missy. You’re going to need to cut that soon if you don’t want it smacking you in the middle of battle,” Soldier pointed out. “That or braid it.”

My hand clamped defensively over the back of my head. “Nah, no way man.” Hearing how whiny that sounded, I tried to pass off my sudden movement as a stretch. “It’s fine. Plus I don’t even know how to braid.”

“…I could do it for you.”

Of all the batshit things Soldier had said to me over the years, this took the cake. “You? Know how to braid?”

I wanted to ask if he was pulling my leg right now, but his expression was just as dead serious as ever. He pointed downward and made a circular motion.

Hesitantly, I turned around, and felt him lift off my cap. The ponytail threaded out of it, and he tugged at the elastic until my hair fell free around my shoulders. I’d seen myself with it down in the mirror every morning before pulling it up, but it still felt odd to have it hanging free here in the same place we killed BLUs and got our guts blasted full of lead. Soldiers fingers carded through the loose strands, dividing them into chunks, but despite that it wasn’t nearly as weird as I thought it would be. It was actually…nice almost.

He wasn’t gentle—this was still Soldier after all—but the tugging at my roots was more pull than yank, a careful suggestion to go one way or the other. Nudging me towards something.

“How’d you learn to do this, anyway?” I asked.

“Used to do my sister’s,” he said gruffly. “Little sisters can’t do anything by themselves. They always try to follow you around, and then they get in trouble or fall in a creek or something.”

His fingers brushed against my neck every now and again. “As a professional little sister, that sounds about right.”

“You are not a professional little sister. You are a professional Scout. What sister-ing you do, you do on your own time missy.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Soldier slipped the elastic around the braid’s end. I swung it around a few times, trying to see if Soldier had messed it up somehow, but only managed to almost fall off the truck bed again. Maybe that beer was really hitting me.

“…Thanks Solly,” I said, gently touching the braid’s end.

“Any time, private. If you need me to teach you, I will happily train you in the art of braids,” he declared. “And knot tying! But only if you meet my standards on the braid portion of the exam.”

I grinned at him. I’d done a lot of weeding, taking out the people and things I didn’t want in my life, but it was nice to know there were things I wouldn’t have to get rid of entirely. “Sure Soldier. I’ll think about it.”

#dnadprideweek2021 #tf2 fanfiction

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cheeriecherry · 4 years

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Birds Of A Feather [4/7]

Hawks x Fem!Reader

Warnings: some swearing, a kiss

Part 4/7

By the end of the week, you’re walking into Hawks’ penthouse with nothing but a duffel bag of clothes. Most of your stuff had been moved to storage, but you’d told him you’d bring your own sheets, blankets, and pillows for the couch. He’d stared at you like you’d grown a second head.

He’d then gone on a tangent about how he had guest rooms, obviously, and how his sheets would be softer than yours. He’s probably not wrong, with his 1200 thread count egyptian cotton, but the way he says it ruffles you a bit. You don’t mention it, though. You don’t want to give him any kind of reason to kick you out.

“Hey chickadee, you gonna stand in the entrance all night, or are you gonna come in?”

You snap out of your stupor when Hawks calls to you, and continue lugging your things through the door.

The inside of the penthouse is beautiful; tastefully decorated (probably professionally), and it’s spacious rough that you could spread your wings out fully. The doorways are wider than average, likely catering to your boss’ specific needs. The entire place is gorgeous, immaculate even, and any person in their right mind would kill to live here.

You kind of detest it.

“I had some people come in this afternoon and set up the guest suite for you,” he says, kicking off his boots and flopping onto the couch. “They also brought some of your uniforms in from the agency, so you can change here. You won’t have to go in so early.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, and you mean it. Personal opinions aside, he’s let you into his home out of kindness. You’ll not soon disrespect that.

“Ah, you’re standing and staring again. Are you that impressed with the place?”

You snap back to attention for a second time, and hike your bag further up your shoulder. “I-it’s not that!” you try to explain, “I was just expecting something...different?”

Hawks sits up on the couch. “Whadya mean?”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “More lived in, I guess? Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful here, especially the balcony, but it’s also very...what’s the word…”

“Mature and charming?” he tries, but you shake your head.

He offers a few more suggestions, things like ‘perfect’ and ‘homey’ and ‘colourful’, each word hitting further and further from your mark.

Then it comes to you. “Monotone and sterile!” you nearly shout, your success momentarily quieting your desire to be polite. “It’s like it’s fresh out of a magazine, or a model home. Don’t take it the wrong way, Boss, I’m not hating on your tastes, but if I’m gonna be staying here indefinitely, I’m gonna have to add some personal touches.” You remember your manners. “If that’s okay…”

You worry that you may have offended him, with the way he’s looking at you, but a smile slowly spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling.

“Finally,” he sighs, “someone who speaks their damn mind.”

“Eh?”

“Do you know how many of the people I’ve invited here tell me ‘how beautiful’ it is?” He adjusts his wings and settles comfortably back into the couch. “All of them. Every single one. And look, I’m grateful that I’ve got this place, but it’s just a house. No sentimentality, no memories...just a space.”

“Well...it’s polite to not insult someone’s home when they invite you over…” you mumble, the severity of your outburst making your face heat up.

“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe they’re all schmoozing and hoping to get on my good side.”

The bitterness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you decide to leave it be. He should be free to be himself in his own home, and not have to put up any kind of front. You hoped he’d supply you the same courtesy, when you inevitably would wake up on the wrong side of the bed some mornings.

“Anyways,” he flips the TV on and tosses the remote to the side, “it’s late. You should probably unpack your stuff before you’re too tired.”

“Yeah…” you realize how wiped out you are as the weariness starts to settle in. “I’ve got tomorrow off though, so...if I wake up on time, I’ll bring you curry.”

You can hear him cheering as you walk down the hall to the guest room, and you smile. You’ll never understand his love for chicken, even though his enthusiasm boosted your confidence.

The room is spacious and airy, and has a beautiful view of the city. The bed itself is probably big enough to hold three people, and you’re silently grateful that your wings won’t be hanging on the floor while you sleep anymore.

You set your bag down by the door, and flop face first onto the mattress. God, it was the most plush thing you’d ever had the pleasure to lay on.

“I’ll unpack tomorrow,” you mumble, sinking further into the sheets and, eventually, sleep.

In the distance, you hear Hawks snoring.

----

You wake up the next day to sunlight hitting your face. It’s bright, and annoying, and too warm, and your bed really wants you to keep sleeping but you don’t think you can.

You sit up.

You can feel that your hair is a disheveled mess, and your tongue feels gummy and sour.

“Blegh.”

You (regrettably) roll out of bed and make your way to the bathroom to fix your morning vibes, checking the time along the way. Ten is later than you would have liked to wake up, but you suppose you really needed the sleep. And you did, surprisingly, feel more rested than you had in months.

It’s ten thirty by the time you’re done in the washroom, overall energy more put together and presentable, and you waste no time heading for the kitchen.

The kitchen which is...painfully under-stocked. A couple of condiments and wilting vegetables in the fridge...some frozen meat in the freezer...a bag of rice under the sink, for some reason, and...a completely full spice rack, every bottle unopened.

You knew your boss didn’t spend a lot of time at home, but this was just sad.

You make a mental note to go shopping later.

Thankfully he seems to have the necessary ingredients for chicken curry, which you’re happy about. It means you won’t have to brave the store just yet.

Bit by bit, you pull out what you need in order to cook, only sitting down when you have a moment to spare as the rice cooks.

‘Hey Boss, I’m making curry for lunch. Want me to bring you some?’

You send him a text. It’s still fairly early, and you know he has his meetings in the morning, so you doubt that he’ll get back to you before-

Your phone buzzes.

‘Chickadee, you sure know the way to my heart. I’ll leave my office window open.’

You send him a thumbs up emoji.

----

Once the food is finished, you pack it up into two containers, opting to leave the rest in the pot for now. You made lots, enough to get several meals out of it, just in case Hawks pulled his ‘too busy to cook’ excuse when trying to convince you to order take-out.

It doesn’t take long to fly to the agency, the skies much clearer than the roads. The city itself seems relatively calm, no sounds of explosions or screaming. There is a distant plume of dark smoke on the horizon, though…

But there were other heroes in the area. You wouldn’t be missed if you didn’t show up for one disaster...right?

But then you land in the window of your boss’ office, and your worry spikes. The room is empty, door closed, lights off, paperwork strewn about on the desk...like he’d run off in a hurry.

You pull your phone out and send him a text.

‘Lemme know if something came up. I brought lunch, but I can put it away for later. Stay safe!

-Chickadee’

He doesn’t reply, but that’s expected if he’s dealing with some kind of crisis. Maybe you should have headed to whatever disaster you’d seen earlier...if it was bad enough to call on your boss, it must be a pretty dire situation. Maybe he could use an extra pair of wings?

You sigh and take a seat beside the window, staring out at the city skyline. The black smoke across the way has turned to a dusty grey colour, a much less threatening hue, and one that bode well for any possible fires.

He’ll be fine, you decide, with other heroes undoubtedly on the scene. By the time you’d get there, whatever was happening would be dealt with.

You pull out your phone to scroll through the news while you eat.

Nothing urgent appears on the screen, nothing to incline that you were needed somewhere, nothing to say extra help was needed. Just day-old stories, gossip columns, the occasional media review. You do startle a little when a new article pops up that’s focused around your boss. You click on it, expecting to see some kind of haggard scene...but you only laugh.

“Hawks, most eligible bachelor in Japan, off the market?” You scroll further into the article to see what kind of nonsense the reporters have come up with this time.

What you don’t expect, is to find pictures of yourself littering the page. Pictures of you and Hawks together. On patrol, talking over lunch at a cafe he took you to one time, walking into his agency side by side, and -most recently- the two of you landing on his balcony.

You’re slightly panicked, and very, very flustered. Had he seen the column? God, he was probably used to it, though, being as popular as he was. All he had to do was look at someone and the media would start crying wolf, which in your opinion, was stupid.

Still, the more you read the article, the more you find it has some good points. You two did spend a lot of time together, more than he did with any of his other friends. But that’s all you are. Friends. Friends, and completely platonic roommates.

You weren’t sure why that made your heart sink so much.

So you copied the link to the article and sent it to him, typing a quick ‘lol’ afterwards. At the very least, he might get a laugh out of it.

----

You finish eating in record time, scarfing down a portion and a half of curry. It was lonely, sitting in Hawks’ office by yourself. You wondered if he ever felt like that when he was up here on his own. He was too busy for most things, too fast for his own good. Did that include friendships? He made time for you when he could, but you understood the busy and demanding life of a hero...other people might not.

You...understood.

The dull ache that you’ve felt in your chest for the past year returns, suddenly. The sadness and grief, the emptiness and all-encompassing tiredness, the big overhanging question of ‘what’s even the point?’. The point of being a hero, the point of suffering for the people who love you and hate you and who don’t even know you.

“Shit,” you sigh, your head and shoulders hanging low, wing dragging against the floor.

Hawks had brightened your life up so much these last few months. He’d brought the smile back to your face, the joy back to flying. You missed him when he was gone, worried for him when he was off on missions, fuck, you even cooked him lunch of your day off just so you could spend time together.

You were head over heels for him, and so totally screwed.

----

Hawks doesn’t return home until late that night. Far past your usual bedtime, but you’re far too distressed to sleep. If you hadn’t had your earlier revelation, you’d have chalked it up to ‘being worried’. But now?

Now that you knew you had feelings for him, all your thoughts were clouded. You were concerned because you liked him. You hung out with him because you liked him. Everything was because you liked him!

It was fucking with you a bit.

“What are you still doing up?” his voice sounds from the front entryway, startling you bad enough that you almost fall off the couch.

Your wide eyes snap to him, immediately taking him in. He’s worse for wear, that’s for sure. His uniform is singed in places, and you’re pretty sure the scuff on his neck is a burn. Most notably are his wings. Or lack thereof.

Featherless red nubs is a more accurate description.

“You look like shit,” you say, keeping the air about you casual.

He makes his way over to you and finds a seat on the couch adjacent, wincing as he sits a little too quickly.

“Thanks, chickadee. You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

Your face heats up. “I-I just mean! Long day?”

He groans, letting his head fall back against the cushions. You’re vaguely aware that he’s started talking, but the only thing you can pay attention to is the narrow column of his exposed throat, and how badly you wanted to lean over and press your lips against it.

You snap out of your daze when he nudges you with his foot.

“I feel like I’m talking to a wall,” you quips, devoid of any malice.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “what were you saying?”

“I was saying that we should hang out now that I’ve got a few days off. Kick our feet up, instead of culminating in a stuffy office.”

You shake your head. “As much as I’d love to, I still have work. Remember? I was already off today, I can’t miss more days.”

He whines, looking at you with sad puppy eyes. “It’ll be boring here by myself. You make the day more fun.”

“Hawks, I can’t-”

“Keigo.”

You perk up. “Huh?”

He rearranges himself on the couch so he can look at you more comfortably. “My name is Takami Keigo. Call me Keigo when it’s just us, okay?”

You consider it. “Why not Takami? That’s polite here, right? To use the surname?”

He nods. “Unless you’re close with the person. Family, good friends, the like.”

Your wings puff up, fully betraying the fact that you’re pleased he considers you a ‘good friend’. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and a teasing grin spreads across Haw-Keigo’s face.

“See? You waaaaant to. Say it with me: Kei-”

“Keigo.”

You don’t miss the way his cheeks tinge pink.

“You got it. And now, since we’re on a first name basis, I’m asking you to take a few days off to hang out with me.”

You’re exasperated.

“C’mon chickadee.”

“No.”

“Pleeeeease?”

“No!”

“Y/N…”

“No, Keigo.”

“Alright then. Now, as your boss, I’m officially giving you three days off.”

“You can’t just do that!”

“I can!”

“Hawks!”

“Keigo.”

“Sorry. Keigo!”

His expression is cheeky as you go back and forth for a while, and he’s unrelenting even as you gently beat him with a couch pillow.

It eventually morphs into a small war, the two of you chasing each other around the apartment, wielding whatever cushions you can get your hands on. You eventually end up tripping over the coffee table, shouting as you smack your foot and fall into an ungraceful heap on your back. Keigo wastes no time pouncing on you and pinning your arms beside your head.

Your wings are splayed out on either side of you, and he’s careful not to kneel on them. Even with your foot throbbing the way it is, he knows you could easily get away if you tried. But you don’t struggle. Instead you lay there quietly, out of breath, eyes locked on his. He can feel the warmth creeping up his neck, and you can see the redness returning to his cheeks.

“I...saw the article you sent to me today,” he begins, voice low. “I’m sorry they brought you into it.”

“I don’t mind,” you admit, “I just worry it might be detrimental to you. Some of your fans will be pissed.”

“Seriously?” He sits up on your chest, releasing your wrists. “You’re not online much, are you. Most of my fans ship us.”

“The hell does that mean?”

He laughs, soft of melodious. “It means that they like the idea of us. As a couple.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?” you wonder.

“No? Why would it?”

You avert your gaze from him, your insecurities and doubts creeping in under the scrutiny of his golden eyes. “I...guess you could just...do better, is all.”

“Chickadee...Y/N, look at me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. You feel very exposed laid out on the carpet, and you wish you’d never said anything.

A warm hand cups your cheek. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes.”

You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your heart is beating rapidly against your ribcage, and you’re positive he can see your embarrassment when you finally do as he asks.

But he only smiles gently at you, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.

“Listen to me, and listen well. You’re the best I can do. You bring out everything good in me, and make me forget the bad. You make me happy.”

“Keigo-”

He shushes you by bringing your lips together.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #winged reader au

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goodieghosty · 7 years

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Can't really read that when your blog is set to automatically redirect to the dashboard and use the sidebar version, which doesn't open readmores (or is that a blog-specific glitch I occasionally get?)

I’m on mobile and a buddy says the read more works, maybe right click and open in new window? Unless you’re not on desktop.

eh I’ll just paste it here, warning, it’s a lot and rlly rough lol. Also probably a glitch

——————–Nora’s eldest daughter-Theodosia-felt threatened when she(Fiona) was born so at the first opportunity she kidnapped her and locked her away in a tower. That was when Fiona was really young, she was lead to believe-by Theo-that the castle was under attack and that they had to hide away. And now she believes that the kingdom was destroyed, Nora was killed, and that there’s a bloodthirsty king and his bandits out for their royal blood.

She loves fairytales and would beg for Theo to bring her some from her trips out of the tower. Now she has her own personal library.

One day-when she grew old enough and her tail got fckin long as all hell-she managed to climb down the tower. She explored a little-and then climbed back up before Theo arrived. And Theo knew right away what she had done since she was covered in grass-and y'know, giant snake trails had p much flattened the grass all around the tower so.

And that’s where that pointy tail cuff comes into play. It’s digging into her scales and as she’s /still growing/ her tail’s starting to grow around the spikes. If she really, really wanted to she could try and pull it off-if she wanted to potentially lose a good portion of her tail.

She’s in a lotta pain and uses all kinds of numbing herbs and what not to /try/ and help.

Now she knows that her sister’s… off. She just can’t say anything or you know, she’ll probably lose her only source of food. Or end up dead.

The song “I know it’s today” from the Shrek Musical really suits her tbh.

(Lil sad snippet because I just thought of this and if I gotta feel bad so do you guys)

Fiona was almost saved once-well, that’s what /she/ thinks anyhow. So Theo hires people to keep the tower in order and deliver food to Fiona, and to also make sure no one tries anything like ‘saving’ Fiona. There’s at most two guards there at any given time. Theo is away a /lot/. She’s trying to build her own kingdom and that takes time and connections.

There are multiple levels to the tower and Fiona has access to the top three. The two above the third “bottom” level is like-imagine a shelf? Kinda open so she doesn’t have to worry about doors in her space, not a Lotta corners-i’m off topic.

Anyways-so one of the new men that was hired-this is important, so prior to being hired he and his w i f e were trying to have a child. Only she’s unable. So he goes to the village-idk what they’re called. The people that the rest of the village go to for advice and spells??? But they’re-a witchdoctor maybe??? Whatever-so he goes, and she says, “There is one sure way for you to ever sire a child, you must lay with a serpent.” “… Do you mean slay-” “No you ninny! Lay! You must lay with a serpent! And when she gives her heart to you will you be blessed with the gift of life.”

Where’s he supposed to find a serpent to nail?? He doesn’t know, so he goes to a tavern to drown his sorrows. That’s where he’s recruited by Theo.

Now the village and the tower is like, maybe a two week trip by carriage.

He gets there, Theo leaves. He gets curious and investigates the upper floors. Then he sees Fiona: a serpent lady.

What a lucky break

So he lays on the charm. And mind you Fiona is a shy gal, and she’s never interacted with anyone other than her sister(and she reads so many romance novels and fairytales) so after say, a month she tells him that she loves him, they bone-and then he’s gone.

He went back to the village and immediately boned his wife. He waited-and after like, a lotta love making and several months he finds the witch doctor and says “You lied to me.” “Me?! A liar?!” “I laid with a serpent and my wife remains barren.” “And what of the serpent? Hm-maybe you /were/ supposed to slay the serpent. This old mind of mine…”

So he goes b a c k to the tower in the night, says Theo told him to take over, and sneaks into Fiona’s room. And he’s got his dagger out, ready to kill himself a serpent, when she moves in her bed and it’s revealed that she has an egg with her.

He doesn’t kill her, instead when she wakes up-and she’s pissed ofc-he tells her that Theo wanted him elsewhere. And she’s gullible, and you know-first love and all that, she’s ready to have herself a little family with this guy.

And then the baby hatches a month later. It looks completely human-only it has gold eyes. He takes it back to the village while she’s asleep.

Fiona is distraught. Theodosia comes back, Fiona tells her what happened. “So you’ve learned your lesson? I’ve told you dear sister, you can’t trust anyone outside these walls. But you can trust me.”

Now some Nora stuff since I bet you’re all curious about what momma’s doing during this

Like, okay she was kidnapped during a castle raid and she was lit a damn baby and the dragon that took her got shot out of the sky and so-now she’s on the ground next to this dead guy. And Kinder heard the noise and went to investigate like a curious bitch. Like “oh there’s a dragon bab” “what do” and just took her in and raised her as his own, but when she’s around 11 he catches wind of a kingdom filled with dragons matching her desc and he’s just “heeeeeeyyyy…” and he goes and checks it out, then he comes back and brings Nora with him because “these are your people and your culture”.

But the entire kingdom and their mothers know that the Queen had a missing emerald and diamond baby that would be around Nora’s age and next thing Kinder knows he’s being dragged off to see the Queen and he’s confused??? And the Queen explains and like-he didn’t exactly have a choice and h a d to give Nora over n she’s confused and scared like? Who’s this woman? Fuck her.

And she doesn’t see Kinder until she’s an adult and is allowed to leave-and h e e e e e re’s where it gets dramatic.

To preface: the dragons in the kingdom are all covered in gems. The more rare and precious they are the higher on the power scale they are. The gems can be removed for whatever reason. But certain gems are tied to certain things, such as abilities. There was a rumor that if a dragon wore the gems of a deceased dragon they will become crazed and start to crave m o r e gems. Like drug addicts n shizz.

And the Queen had just lost a son, and she fastened a few of his gems into a necklace to wear.

And she got b a t s h i t crazy

Obsessed with power.

Crazy paranoid.

And jealous of anyone and everyone.

So she started putting new laws in place. Crazy laws. And soon more than a third of the kingdom was locked away. Oh but they started running out of room. So she’d have their gems taken, and if you have no gems you’re practically a powerless, obedient husk. She’d store alllll the gems away. Nora knew this, but she didn’t want to be next as the Queen had already started turning on her other siblings

And Nora was starting to gain popularity with the people. She had a mate at the time and they were going to be wed. So everyone was talking about a grand wedding and Nora becoming the new queen.

Queen(her names Vivienne btw i just don’t wanna type it alot lol)didn’t like this and seduced Nora’s mate, then killed him. Nora was livid-of course-and claimed that come morning everyone would know.

So Queen snuck into Nora’s room as she slept and tore the gems from her back. And ye Nora woke tf up and punched the woman and had to McFuckin flee. But with her back all fcked just summoning her wings and shifting was painful. So by the time she was out of the kingdom she was exhausted.

Idk wtf happens during this, besides boring training n shizz, boom, she comes back and kills her mother, reclaims her gems, and becomes Queen. But this would be years after she fled. And her gems became tainted, so she began to get a lil batshit as well.

Only she k n e w. And she was able to fight it, but it got so tiring and she was always erratic with her emotions that she just tore the tainted gems from her and waited.

Then there was a human guy and she had Theodosia, and she loved Theo so much and spoiled her. But Theo was a b i t c h. An evil lil cunt. So when Nora had her next daughter, Fiona, Theo-now 16 by human standards and worried for her position for the throne-took her and locked her away in an old tower surrounded by a magic barrier to keep her in.

And Nora didn’t know, she thought Fiona was dead and gone. But when she found out-a whopping two hundred years later, when Fiona would be a young adult-she locked Theo away and demanded to be told where Fiona was.

Theo escaped. Nora never found out where Fiona was. She sent out countless parties to search for her.

So in she lost a father, several siblings, a mate, a mother, and two daughters.

Now onto the son Fiona had with that guard. He’s not all that ordinary. He talks to snakes and has an knack for getting himself in and out of trouble. He parents love him very much-and his mother is concerned about where her husband says he found him “I found him floating down the river” he says. She doesn’t buy it, but she loves the child like he was her own. And for all little Kandro(to be changed, maybe) knows he /is/ her son.

He likes fairytales just as much as her mother, he particularly likes the one about the maiden with the long gold hair locked away in a tower. Now, this village isn’t all human. No, there are minotaur and satyrs and all in between. He feels drawn to them-but his father doesn’t want him anywhere near “the likes of them”.

He does it anyways. He’s a lovable lad, everyone’s friend. Always knows just what to say.

And then Nora’s search party makes it to the village. They have posters made from a description a seer gave them(“she looks like this and she’s in a tower” “what tower” “a tower in a forest” “which forest” “I can’t tell you that, I’m a seer, not a tour guide.”)-and his father is quick to turn pale. But then he hears of the reward for her safe return. And suddenly he’s a greedy Lil shit, goes right up to them and says “I know where she is”

Kandro sneaks into the carriage because “I want to see the princess”. Ah, there’s that adventurer in him. Course he’s found about half way there, but they can’t just turn him back on his own so they let him stay. His father’s upset about it, but hey it’s not like he remembers Fiona anyhow-only in a way he /does/. Kandro knows Fiona’s scent, he just k n o w s. Like-she’s imprinted in his mind.

When they get to the tower there are guards-and they’re dispatched p fckin quickly. And Kandro was told to stay at the carriage but he’s thirteen, he don’t listen. So he runs up the stairs and bursts into Fiona’s room and blurts out. “I’m here to rescue the princess!”

And she’s startled-but then she sees his eyes and she knows. He knows. And she pulls him up in a hug and it’s sappy.

Nora’s men come in as well and everyone has to c o n v i n c e her that it’s safe to go outside and that Nora’s kingdom is safe and strong. They also tell her the truth about Theo. Fiona almost isn’t surprised, “I guess a part of me always knew…”

The guards have to remove the chain-they try the cuff but it’s stuck too bad and they don’t have the supplies for it. So she has to travel like that. And she does not let go of Kandro’s hand, they sleep together during the night and when they reach the village and his mother comes Fiona tells her just what her husband did.

So the lady’s livid, there’s a lot of yelling. The husband’s ashamed. But Fiona-after hearing his side-is like “I understand how you felt, you were desperate, but that doesn’t give you the right to use me or lie to your own wife.”

Woman ends up at a loss-but she asks “where are you taking my son?” “I’m taking him home… do you want to come?” “I… yes, please.” “You can tell me all about him and his adventures on the way.”

So they ditch the husband there-after putting him in the stocks to be publicly shamed n what not.

The wife-I’m calling her Matilda-ends up being a very close friend and her and Fiona raise Kandro together.

“What kind of name is ‘Kandro’?” “Oh-Erwin picked it out. Always hated it. Never really fit… what would you have named him?” “Oh, please don’t laugh. I would have named him Charming.” *cue giggling* “I think that’s a much better fit! He’s always had a way with people!”

Kandro becomes ‘Charming’ and proudly says “I have /two/ mothers! Hah!”

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justlookfrightened · 7 years

Text

Neighbors AU, Part 3: Chapter 8: Feb. 13-17: Valentine's Day, Providence, San Jose, Los Angeles

Read it on AO3

Or read Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 or 7

Eric hated Valentine’s Day.

Back when he was single, he always thought it was the kind of thing he would like once he was part of a couple. He'd be able to buy his boyfriend a cheesy card, maybe make a romantic dinner and decadent dessert. Maybe his boyfriend would bring him flowers -- or even better, send them to his work, so everyone would know someone loved him. It's not like he would flaunt it in front of his single friends or anything. But he would enjoy being part of a couple on a day dedicated to celebrating couplehood. Because face it: no matter how many “gal-entines” or “pal-entines” gatherings he was invited to, that's not what Valentine’s Day was for.

That was before he worked in a bakery.

Eric insisted on waiting at least until the beginning of February to decorate, but by the time the actual day rolled around, it seemed like red and pink hearts were everywhere. No matter how much he pleaded for a sophisticated minimalism, there seemed to be more each time he stepped out of the kitchen. The latest was a garland of paper hearts strung across the front of the counter.

“Chowder, where did this come from?” he asked. “I didn’t see it in the box of decorations.”

“Oh, Cait made that last night,” Chow said. “She was trying to find a craft her first-graders could do when they come after school today. I didn't want it to go to waste.”

“Well, that was kind of you,” Eric said, trying to sound appropriately enthusiastic.

“Um, speaking of kind, could I maybe come in a little late on Thursday? I can be here by 6:30, but probably not 6, if I stay at Caitlin's Wednesday night.” Chowder had gone bright red.

“Big plans?” Eric said. “Sure. Make it 7. I can handle it on my own for a bit.”

It felt like everything he'd baked for a week was either heart-shaped or red -- the heart-shaped red velvet cupcakes were especially popular -- and he couldn't really complain because business was great.

And it wasn't like he was too tired or overworked to properly acknowledge the holiday with Jack, because Jack was currently clear across the continent and would be for the next three days.

Last year, they'd only just gotten together before Valentine's Day. It had been nice -- a lovely dinner with steak and red wine in Jack’s apartment, homemade raspberry tartlets, an exchange of cards, the flowers that Jack brought on the table. It hadn't mattered that Eric had to get up early to work the next day or that Jack actually weighed his steak on the kitchen scale to see how far off his nutrition plan the meal was.

And it wasn't like this road trip was a surprise. It had been on the calendar for months. Eric had kind of casually noticed in September that Jack would be out of town for Valentine's Day. But when he'd left Monday morning without so much as mentioning the holiday … Eric didn't mention it either. He just said, “Are your parents still coming to California?”

“Yeah, the Ducks and the Kings games,” Jack said.

Eric had smiled and said, “Tell them I said hello. I'll text your mom and make sure she cheers extra loud for me.”

Then Jack had kissed him goodbye and left to get his ride to the airport.

That was yesterday, and they'd talked last night before Eric went to bed and it had been fine. Jack hadn't said anything about the card in the red envelope labeled “Do not open until Feb 14” that Eric had slipped into his bag.

This trip was far from the longest they had been separated. It was just at a rough time, when Eric was both slammed at work and seeing evidence of other happy couples everywhere he looked.

Eric shook himself mentally and physically. “Snap out of it,” he told himself. “Quit moping around.”

With that, he pulled out his phone and texted Lardo.

“Any open ice?” he asked.

Later, as he laced his skates, he told Lardo, “I never thought I cared that much about Valentine’s Day. I mean, it's just a day. I don't need flowers and chocolate, and lord knows I have enough to do. And it's not like Jack is just blowing me off. I'm not mad at him. I just wish he was here.”

“I get it, Bits,” Lardo said. “It's a lot easier to talk about how stupid it all is when there isn't someone you're missing.”

“Speaking of, how's Shitty?”

“Shut your mouth,” Lardo said. “He's fine. But he's not going to bow to the pressure to participate in the commercial excess of Valentine's Day.”

“I'll bring you a flower if you want,” Eric said. “And a cookie.”

“And I'll get you a card,” Lardo said.

“Deal,” Eric said, handing over his phone so she could plug it into the sound system. “Practice Two playlist today.”

*******************************

Jack taped his socks over his shin pads and tapped his stick against them. Ready to take the ice for warmups.

He’d talked with Eric just before dressing -- waiting until after the game would be too late for Eric to stay up.

“Go to bed, bud,” Jack said. “You can’t watch every West Coast game and still make it to work in the morning. You need to sleep.”

“But I like watching you play,” Eric said.

“Then I’ll just have to get everything done in the first period,” Jack said.

“Maybe the first two?” Eric said. “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”

“Fine,” Jack said. “Then you’ll go to sleep?”

“How about I sleep in my apartment?” Eric said. “That way I can see the TV from the bed, and if I fall asleep, I fall asleep.”

“But our bed is so much more comfortable,” Jack said. “You know you sleep better there.”

“Only when you’re home,” Eric said.

“And I like imagining you in our bed,” Jack said.

Eric had sighed, and said primly, “You can imagine whatever you like, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Then both of them had burst into giggles.

Jack couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he headed onto the ice for his laps.

As the team lined up to take shots, Tater patted -- more like pawed -- Jack’s head.

“Zimboni is smiling,” he said. “That means we win tonight. You hear, Guy? Zimboni is already smiling. That means we win.”

“Don’t jinx us, Mashkov,” Guy grumbled.

“Poots! Marty! See Zimboni smile! We win tonight!”

Jack shook his head.

“Don’t think it works that way, Tater,” he said. “That’d be too easy. But let’s win anyway, eh?”

“I don’t know about that,” Marty said. “Time was, seeing you happy before a game just didn’t happen. Since a certain someone came into your life, you’re much happier. And we win more.”

“Fine,” Jack said, still not able to keep his lips from turning up at the corners. “Just win, and I’ll be even happier.”

Jack scored in the first, on a partial breakaway with a sweet pass from Tater, and looked straight at a camera, hoping the operator and producers picked up on it.

He set up Poots for a goal on a rebound in the second, making it a 2-1 lead. With a minute left in the second, he blocked a Brent Burns shot with his shin guard. Skating to the bench -- only limping a little, despite what he was pretty sure was a cracked pad -- he made a point of looking at his wrist like he was checking the time on a clock. Time for Eric to go to bed. Tomorrow was Valentine's Day, and Eric had to be at the bakery to take a delivery bright and early.

The trainer came up behind him as soon as he sat down.

“Jack, what's the damage?”

“It'll be a nasty bruise on my shin, and I think I need a new pad, but otherwise I'm OK,” Jack said. “I'm fine to stay in.”

“What about your wrist? Did you get slashed?”

“My wrist?” Jack smiled when he figured it out. “It's fine.”

The rest of the game wasn't so much fun. Jack kind of hoped Eric wasn't watching when Logan Couture tied it five minutes into the third. Snowy stood on his head for the next five as the Sharks just kept coming.

The last 10 minutes were nothing but a series of neutral zone turnovers and missed passes on both sides, leading to an overtime where Ward slipped it in with 30 seconds left.

At least they got a point out of it.

By the time the team made it to the dressing room it was 10:30 p.m., 1:30 a.m. in Providence. Eric had to be up in less than three hours. There was absolutely no way Jack could call him. Not even a text, because Jack knew Eric left the sound on his phone when he went to sleep, especially if Jack was on the road, “just in case, Jack.”

Jack showered, dressed, answered a couple of questions from reporters with stock phrases that he had memorized a decade ago and flopped into his seat on the bus.

As soon as he got back to his room, he opened his laptop and headed to Eric’s YouTube channel. Which should he watch? Nothing too old -- something from the Eric he knew. The most recent post was an updated recipe for old-fashioned sugar cookies, which Eric noted could be cut into heart shapes and decorated with red icing or red sanding sugar for Valentine's Day.

But two weeks ago -- there it was -- Eric made a tourtière based on a recipe in the Québécois cookbook Jack’s mother had given him for Christmas. He remembered when Eric was planning to make it; the freezer still held several portions made with different variations of the recipe.

Jack settled into bed and watched Eric cooking in their kitchen, talking about the ratio of pork to beef, the necessity of cloves, and whether it would be wrong to add red pepper flakes or cayenne. He was drowsing as Eric talked about different binding agents -- he liked bread crumbs for their texture, but acknowledged that potato was more traditional.

By the time Eric was applying the egg wash to the top, Jack was asleep, dreaming of eating Eric’s tourtière on Christmas.

***********************************

Eric sighed as he dressed in a red henley and a darker red plaid button-down. “Happy Valentine’s Day to me,” he said.

He’d checked his phone as soon as he woke up to see if he’d missed a text from Jack while he was sleeping, but there was nothing there. It was far too early for him to text or call; in California, Jack wouldn’t have to be awake for almost four hours. No doubt they would talk later; the team had an off day but would be flying to southern California for back-to-back games against the Ducks and the Kings.

But for now, Eric had work to do. Red velvet, strawberries, raspberries, chocolate -- lots of chocolate. After work, he had a date to meet Lardo to skate, and bring the flowers he promised. He had ordered a bouquet of white and yellow roses from the florist down the block. Really, there were worse ways to spend the day.

He let himself into Sugar ‘n’ Spice and deactivated the alarm -- an addition after the graffiti incidents last spring -- and turned on music and the small coffee maker in the kitchen. He pulled out the list he made the previous evening and got to work.

Eric was putting the first items in the cases up front when Chowder walked in.

“Morning, Bitty. Ready for Valentine’s Day?”

“Ready for it to be over, more like,” Eric said. “Blueberries. Remember baking with blueberries? Or peaches. Or anything not red, really.”

Chowder grinned.

“I’ll take blueberry muffins today if you make them,” he said. “They’re Cait’s favorite.”

“Using my baked goods to seduce your girlfriend, Christopher?” Eric asked. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“But Bitty, it’s not like …” Chowder stopped and turned red.

Eric giggled.

“I know, I know,” Eric said. “You wouldn’t need my muffins for that. You just want to make her happy. I get it. Tell you what, I’ll set aside a dozen for you, all right?”

“Thanks, Bits! We can have them for breakfast tomorrow. You’re sure it’s OK if I come in late tomorrow?”

“It really is,” Eric said. “I don’t really have any plans tonight after I skate.”

Eric went back to the kitchen to continue the morning’s baking while Chowder set up the front of the shop and got the big coffeemaker going. Eric carried trays out to be put in the cases in between shuttling pans in an out of the ovens and icing cupcakes and cookies.

He was in the kitchen when he heard Chowder call that he was opening.

Within two minutes, he heard the bell on the top of the door chime, then again and again. His regulars did like their morning treats.

Chowder appeared in the door to the kitchen.

“Bits? Can you come out here for a minute?”

“Sure,” Eric said. “What is it?”

“You’ll see,” Chowder said.

Standing at the counter was the florist from down the block, behind two enormous vases with red roses. Something about them looked … different.

“There’s 13 in each,” the florist said. “Baker’s dozen, Mr. Zimmermann said. He also said he wanted two, so you could have one in the kitchen and one in the front, and he especially wanted to make sure they were delivered first thing when you opened.”

Eric was still staring, a hand in front of his mouth, his eyes a little shiny.

“Oh, Lord,” he said finally. “That boy. I can’t even text him -- it’s 4:30 in the morning in California. But thanks, Tom. Let me get you some coffee, and maybe some pastries to take back for your crew?”

“You don’t have to do that, Eric,” Tom said. “Your boyfriend did pay for this, you know.”

“I know, I know, but you’re going to have a busy day,” Eric said. “You’ve got to take care of your staff.”

Chowder was already filling a box. Eric filled a to-go cup and thanked Tom again before he left.

Then his phone buzzed with a notification.

“I just sent you a picture of you when you saw them,” Chowder said. “I thought you might want to send it to Jack.”

“Thanks, Chowder, I will once he’s likely to be up,” Eric said.

Then he pulled out his phone and took a picture of the flowers to post on his personal Instagram account. #myboyfriendissoextra

******************************

Jack woke at 7 a.m. to a screenful of notifications, mostly from the Falconers chat.

O captain my captain, you're making the rest of us look bad!

I always know Zimboni is a romantic

Seriously, dude, two vases full? Before 7 am? You know my wife follows Eric

My captain is so extra

Marty said his wife followed Eric, who must have posted something about the flowers. Twitter? Instagram? Probably both.

He pulled up Eric's Instagram feed and saw the artfully composed picture of the two arrangements of roses under the bakery lights. He liked it and then sent a text to Eric.

Good morning! Happy Valentine’s Day! I see the flowers arrived like the florist said they would. I’m glad you like them!

He checked the time: 7:20, 10:20 in Providence. Eric might actually be in a lull. Sure enough, his phone buzzed a minute later, with a photo of Eric, his hand over his mouth not quite covering his smile and his eyes shining.

Chowder took this. He sent it to me to send to you. Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too!

There was a pause.

Why did the card say not to take them home?

Not telling, Jack responded.

Why not? Eric wrote.

That would be telling. Do you have big plans for today?

Eric typed, Just meeting up with Lardo to skate after work. I promised her a flower bc Shitty doesn’t do Hallmark holidays. You?

We’re flying to LA this morning, then some time on our own. Some of the guys are getting dinner later, but that’ll be like 10 pm for you, Jack typed. Can I call you on Skype at about 8 your time? I really want to see you today.

Me too, Eric typed. I can’t wait.

Jack opened the card Eric had left in his bag and blushed when he read it. It wasn’t that it was sexual -- it was flowery and sentimental, and Eric wrote inside that Jack would just have to get used to that, “because you are more than I ever hoped for, and all I ever want. I never imagined having someone like you love me, and sometimes I can’t believe it’s true, but you show me over and over again. I hope you know how much I love you too. I will tell you how much I love you every single day. I’d also say I was giving you a gift certificate for unlimited free baked goods for life, but you already have that.”

For life, Eric had said. Did he mean it? Did he even know what he wrote? Because Jack would be up for spending his life with Eric.

But that wasn’t a conversation to have over text while Eric was at work.

Once Jack had gotten into his new hotel room, he hit the gym for a quick run on the treadmill, then showered and replied to emails until 5 o’clock rolled around.

At 5, he opened the Skype app and saw that Eric was already waiting, so he connected the call.

Eric was sitting at his dining room table, the flowers Jack had sent home clearly in the frame behind him.

“I can’t believe you,” Eric said, his grin giving the lie to the exasperation he was trying for. “Do you know how much roses cost? On Valentine’s Day?”

“I think I have the receipt here somewhere,” Jack said. “Whatever it was was worth it to tell my boyfriend that I wish I could be with him on Valentine’s Day.”

“But three bouquets? One would have gotten the message across.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jack said. “It needed at least three. I thought about just filling the apartment with flowers, like in the movies, but that would have been too hard to clean up.”

“You silly, over-the-top man,” Eric said, shaking his head.

“Thanks for the card, too,” Jack said. “I really liked it. I would say it made me think of you, but I’ve been thinking of you all day.”

“I didn’t just get you a card,” Eric said. “Well, sort of. I was going to make you a special dinner -- whatever you want -- on Saturday night.”

“Whatever I want? Even chicken tenders?”

“Even chicken tenders,” Eric said, with a determined nod, like he had to reassure himself that he really could do that.

“Can I take a rain check?” Jack said. “I want to take you out Saturday. On a real date. We don’t do that enough. Maybe Waterman Grille? You can pick somewhere else if you want.”

“The place on the river?” Eric asked. “Sounds wonderful. Of course. I’d love to go.”

“I’ll get us reservations,” Jack said. “We’ll get back sometime Saturday morning, but you’ll be at work already, so I’ll just come home and get some sleep. You’re off Sunday, right?”

“Sure am,” Eric said, his grin turning the slightest bit wicked. “Did you have something in mind for late Saturday night?”

“I’ll tell you, but will you take the computer to the bedroom and get comfortable? And by that, I mean take your clothes off?”

“Only if you join me,” Eric said, already carrying the computer toward the bedroom.

They had done this before, of course, but Jack was amazed every time at how open and sexy and fun Eric could be in front of a webcam. In some ways, he was less shy than he was in person -- at least early in their relationship. Now they had an easy intimacy, over the internet or in person, something Jack thought he would never be able to achieve.

When they were done, Eric yawned and said, “I need to sleep, and you need to shower before you meet the guys for dinner. G’night, Jack. I love you.”

“I love you, too, lapinou. Sleep well. I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”

**************************

Eric looked at his reflection as he knotted his red bow tie. Behind him, he could see Jack sitting on the bed, shirt still open, as he put on his shoes.

The Falconers had finished the road trip with back-to-back wins in Anaheim and Los Angeles, and Eric felt like he had spent as much time texting and talking to people in California as he had in dealing with people right in front of him in Providence. Somehow, Bob and Alicia felt the need to tell Eric about everything they did when they visited Jack, making it feel like he was almost -- almost -- sharing the experience. Tater also texted or tweeted at Eric a few times a day, telling him about the abysmal lack of quality baked goods in California, especially the lack of the Russian specialities that Eric had added to his repertoire for his favorite Falconer D-man.

Then Jack had been curled in their bed when Eric came home from work. Eric had set an alarm so they wouldn’t be late for dinner, stripped down to his boxer briefs and crawled in behind Jack, trying not to wake him. Jack had turned, dropped an arm over Eric’s waist, and settled back into slumber.

It was nearly two hours later that Eric woke to the feeling of Jack’s thumb tracing circles over his ribs. When he squirmed, Jack leaned to kiss his forehead, then his eyelids, and then going back to sleep was the last thing on Eric’s mind.

They still made it out of bed and into the shower in plenty of time to make their 7:30 p.m. reservations.

Jack drove, and when they left the car with the valet, he took Eric’s hand to lead him into the restaurant. He only relinquished Eric’s hand to take a seat at the table, next to the window overlooking the river, and then covered Eric’s hand again.

“Keep that up, and people are going to think we’re together,” Eric said.

“We are,” Jack said.

“Yes, but we usually don’t … make it obvious,” Eric said, but he didn’t pull his hand away..

“Maybe we should, sometimes,” Jack said. “We’re out, people know, and it’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and I want to take you out, and wine and dine you, and show you off, and every other cliche you can think of. I’m so proud to be your boyfriend, and I want everyone to know.”

“Well, then,” Eric said. “You go right ahead.”

It wasn’t practical to keep holding hands once their meals arrived, but if the way Jack looked at him wouldn’t have told people they were together, the way their feet bumped under the table probably would.

Jack talked about spending Valentine’s Day evening with the “old married guys” on the team, chirping each other about who missed their partner more, and Eric talked about wanting to put a moratorium on anything red at Sugar ‘n’ Spice for at least two weeks. Except for the roses, which were still beautiful.

“It really was too much,” Eric said. “But I love them.”

“I loved your card,” Jack said. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Eric said. “I mean, I meant every word. But what in particular?”

“You said I could have free baked goods for life,” Jack said. “Was it just an expression? Or did you mean that, for life?”

“Of course I meant it,” Eric said. “I’m here as long as you want me.”

“For life,” Jack said.

“If you want me that long,” Eric said. “Wait -- you’re not proposing, are you?”

“No,” Jack said. “If I do, I’ll do it properly. I was just making sure. And making sure you knew.”

“If you do?”

“I can’t be sure,” Jack said. “You could always beat me to it.”

#my fic #zimbits #omgcheckplease #omg check please #neighbors au

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