#i think it's so funny that the siren waited patiently until they were done with their heartfelt declarations | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blizzardfluffykpop · 3 years

Text

Patience

Summary: This maybe the most stubborn patient (Y/n) has ever had to deal with. But they are determined to help the best friends mend their friendship and take care of their patient.

Oneshot

Fluff, a Smidge of Angst, and a Slice of Life

Word Count: 4,255

Requested: @crzy-devil Oh well I was interested in a story where y/n would be jinyoung nurse and jinyoung would be paraplegic and y/n would fall for him was what I was thinking.

Paraplegic! Jinyoung X In-home Nurse! Reader

[Featuring butler/best friend Jaebeom and peacocks: Yugyeom and Jackson {mainly}]

This is my third transfer as a live-in nurse. My first patient was Mrs. Madeleine, she was the sweetest, and I loved waking up to care for her. But it was only temporary until her daughter moved back up to take care of her along with her family. The second patient I cared for was super funny. I took care of them for two years before they transferred to a long-term care hospital. The taxi cab starts to slow down as I look out, finally done reminiscing when my eyes settle on the gated community. ‘This is a first,’ I thought to myself. I gulp as the driver finally stops in front of a two-story brick house. I pay for the cab and tip them a nice amount before walking up the sidewalk to the front of the house.

I ring the doorbell, and they ask, “Who is it?” Come from the little doorbell camera. I smile, “I’m (Y/n), and I am going to be your live-in nurse.” I wait for a response, but all is a sigh before the door opens by itself. Unlike creepy abandoned mansions, behind the door was a guy dressed formally. “I can take your bags up to your room.” My eyes nearly pop out of my head, “No, no, that's okay! I can do that!” He smiles and shrugs, “As you wish, follow me up, then.” I follow him up the winding stairs and notice a built-in lift. I smile good to see they have accommodations built into the house. “Your room will be three doors from Mr. Park’s.” I nod, “Can I see them?” He nods, “I’m Jaebeom, and I’m sure he will want to see you as soon as you settle in.” I smile at him, “I’m (Y/n), and it’s nice to meet you, Jaebeom!” I push my suitcase under the bed and follow him out.

He knocks three times before Mr. Park lets out, “Come in.” Jaebeom holds the door open for me. I walk in and take in the expanse of the room. When my eyes settle on him, I see he is reading a book. “Hi, Mr. Park, I’m (Y/n), and I am going to be your live-in nurse.” He gives a half-smile before finishing up the page he was reading. He puts the book down after bookmarking it. “I do not require an in-house nurse. Jaebeom hired you, not me.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes and decide from that moment to do whatever I can to ease the job off of Jaebeom.

It’s been a few weeks, and caring for him has not gotten any easier. He’s been stubborn as all hell and refuses to take any medication in front of me. Unless Jaebeom gives it to him, I sigh as I help him into a bath. And he grumbles under his breath, “What?” I ask softly, “Thank you.” He says with so much venom that I almost scream. I help him bathe, and he continues to grumble the whole time. Hopefully, one day it will get easier and, he’ll accept my help. After finishing and helping him get dressed, I get another venom-filled ‘thank you’. We eat dinner in silence, and he promptly goes back to his room once he finishes his meal.

I go over and help Jaebeom with the dishes and ask finally, “Has he always been like this?” He shakes his head, “You see, when we were younger, he was bright and bubbly. But since his condition worsened after his accident. He absorbed himself into work and has not been the same since. While I admire the dedication, I truly miss my best friend.” I nod as I help Jaebeom put the dishes away, “Have you ever told him?” He sighs, “No, but it’s not like we talk much these days. Before you, I would always help him around the mansion. And our conversations turned terse. He’s the closest thing I have to a family. I love him dearly, and now whenever we talk, it’s strictly business. Last night was the first time we had a whole conversation. It felt good to talk to him again, thank you.” I sigh, “I’m going to do whatever I can to repair your guy’s friendship. I think one of the reasons it got damaged is that Jinyoung wants to do everything by himself. I cannot blame him for that, but sometimes you have to accept the help you don’t want. I know he cares about you, but everyone has a different way of showing it. I can see it in the way he refused my help and only wanted yours because he trusts you with his whole heart. And you care for him with your whole heart.”

The next morning, I come in with his medicine and find he’s looking out the large window in his office. I set it on the desk, expecting him to tell me to shove off as I tell him, “I brought your medication.” His chair slowly spins around, and he gives me a small smile. What did Jaebeom and him talk about to make him smile at me? He looks out the window as he takes a sip of tea and tells me, “I inherited this place from my uncle, but I rarely get to enjoy it. I’m usually only moving from my office to the dining room and the bathroom every day. Because it’s all on the same floor, the only time I can see these beautiful birds is when I look out the window.” He gestures to the peacocks walking gracefully to see one spread its wings and try to court another bird. “I have never been out there either, and I have never seen peacocks in real life before.” He nods, “Would you be able to take me out there?” I nod, “Without a problem, whoever put stairs in this mansion needs a smack” He nods, “Tell that to my uncle...” I laugh, “I’m going to have a long conversation with him.” And for the first time since I’ve been here, I hear him laugh. My heart flutters as he moves his chair to the top of the stairwell. He grasps the top of the lift and swings himself into it. I fold the chair and follow him down the stairs with the chair in hand. I place the chair down and hold it steady as he swings into it. I go over to the french doors and open them. He smiles, and with no malice, he says, “Thank you,” I shake my head and tell him, “It’s no problem.”

-- (Jaebeom and Jinyoung’s conversation) --

“You cannot keep treating them that way, you know?” Jinyoung grumbles, “I know.” Jaebeom sighs, “Well, then you better clean up your attitude.” Jinyoung nods, “I’m going to try, but no promises.” Jaebeom nods, “Okay, I believe you. But please don’t shut me out again.” He nods, “I promise not to anymore. You mean a lot to me, Jaebeom. You're like a brother to me.” Jaebeom nods, “I feel the same way about you.” And for the first time in a long time, they hug it out. “Alright, I have some errands to run in the morning, so you’re completely in their care until later.” With that Jaebeom, leaves telling Jinyoung a good night, and he tells Jaebeom good night.

He moves to the middle of the garden and gestures for me to follow. I follow him down the brick-paved walkway until we are in front of a water fountain. I sit next to him on the bench as we face away from the water fountain looking out into the massive garden. “It’s beautiful out here, breath-taking even.” He nods, “It’s one of the reasons why I fell in love with this house.” I nod, and we sit in silence. Watching the flowers move with the wind, the peacocks are further back than they seemed. But they move closer as time goes on, “Did you name them?” He shakes his head, yes, “That’s Youngjae,” He points to the one courting earlier, “That’s Soyeon.” Pointing to the one the peacock was courting. “That’s Bambam,...” He names the one who is poking at the ground with no sign of stopping. I grin as he tells me the two that look like they are talking to each other, “That’s Yugyeom and Mark.” He points to the two white ones, “That’s Seulgi and her sister Siren. The one casting its feathers in the back is Jackson.” I smile, “I think Jackson leads the peacocks.” He shakes his head, “Actually, it’s Seulgi and Siren.” I laugh, “You know, that makes sense.” He nods, “My irritator is coming over… Whenever he sees me in the window, he flys over and acts like he is arguing with me.” The one called Yugyeom starts marching over to us. He pokes at Jinyoung for a second and squints his eyes. He comes over and brushes his feathers over me, and goes back to Jinyoung, and squints again. Jinyoung squints back before Yugyeom pokes his hand. Jinyoung hisses and shoos Yugyeom away. “Do you need ice? Or something?” He shakes his head, “No, just need for him to go find something to do.” I laugh, and he gives me a tight smile.

We sat in silence for a few minutes before I asked, “Why didn’t you ask Jaebeom to bring you here?” He sighs, “He’s my best friend. He shouldn’t be the one doing everything for me. I know he is my butler,... but I couldn’t ask him to do this.” I nod and place my hand on his shoulder, “You know he would do anything for you, right?” I caught a glimpse of his smile. “I feel the same way about him. I’ve just had a harder time expressing it as of late.” I ask the fateful question, “How long ago did this happen?” He looks down, “I’ve always had problems getting around as a kid, but two years ago, I got in a car wreck. It exacerbated it; I no longer had control of my legs. While I had limited mobility before only needing a wheelchair every once and a while. Now I’m here, and I’ve finally accepted it. I’m happy with the life I lead. But sometimes it would be nice if my house did not have stairs. I think that’s the worst part of it. Most of the time I’m stuck to the 2nd level. Because that’s where everything is,...” I nod as he looks over at me. “Well, whenever you want down here. Just ask me, and I’ll be over in an instant.” He smiles at me, and my heart flutters again, and I can’t help but smile back at him.

We watch the peacocks for a while before he smiles and says, “Well, I’m good now.” I nod and follow him back after giving Jinyoung medicine and helping him into his bed. Making sure he is comfortable, I leave and shut the door. Heading over to my room, I see Jaebeom sitting on the window ledge, “Hey, I saw you guys out in the garden today.” I nod with a big smile on my face before joining him and looking out at the traffic. “It’s the first time I’ve been out there. It's super pretty.” He nods, “It is out there, and thank you.” I shrug, “For what?” He shrugs back and goes into Jinyoung’s room. I smile and fall asleep with ease, happy that Jinyoung and I finally got to talk.

I wake up to the smell of pancakes, and I start to rush over to the dining room. Jaebeom sees me come out of my room and gestures towards Jinyoung’s room, and I raise a brow. But follow along and see Jinyoung propped up. He gestures for me to sit in the chair with a tiny table in front of it. “I wanted to eat breakfast in bed with you two,...” He trails off with a slight pink tint. I smile as Jaebeom sets the pancakes in front of us. Before grabbing us something to drink. Jaebeom smiles, “This is nice.” We agree and eat our breakfast in comfortable silence. “We should do this again,” Jinyoung nods, “I think so too. Thank you guys for joining.” I grin, and so does Jaebeom.

It’s been a few weeks since then, and it's gotten easier to care for Jinyoung. All three of us can interact and hold conversations. He accepted my help, and we are now seeing eye to eye on a lot of things. Jaebeom and Jinyoung’s friendship has repaired itself, and I’m so happy for them. While we still have our duties, Jinyoung tries to include us in his meetings and his work. Talking about how we care for him and he cares for us. I nearly cried myself to sleep the first time he said that because of how sweet that was. Sometimes you have to crack the hard exterior to meet the inner softie. I think I'm falling for him. I knock on the door with some herbal tea in hand. “Come in,” I come in and sit the tea down and drink a sip of mine. “You asked for some tea, but Jaebeom had some errands to run. Thus he asked me to make it.” He nods, “That’s okay,... I like your company too.” He gestures for me to sit next to him at the window. I bring a chair around, and we drink our tea in peace, and he asks, “Would you like to know more about them?” I nod, “They are Indian Peafowls. In Native American culture, they represent; self-esteem, dignity, refinement, knowledge, pride, and beauty.” I nod, “My uncle brought them over to property when I was little and taught me all about them. In some legends, they represent omens of nobility, guidance, holiness, watchfulness, and protection.” I smile, “That is super cool!” He continues, “I think that they protect this house and keep care of me. No matter what that thing--." He gestures to Yugyeom, the bird that is acting like he is trying to fight Jinyoung. With his feathers bristled and jumping at the window. “Does-- he truly cares.” I laugh and wave down at Yugyeom, and he calms down for a second only to continue. Before Jinyoung puts up his 'dukes', and acts like he’s punching him, Yugyeom falls over and sashes away. I cackle at the two of them, “Oh man, that is the first time I’ve ever seen anyone have that interaction with any animal.” He laughs, “I was about seven when they brought the peacocks over, and I met him first. We formed a special bond since he was a peachick. We used to play fight, and it’s continued into adulthood.” I laugh, “How long have you had this house?” He smiles, “I used to come here all the time as a kid, but when I turned sixteen, they turned it over to me. So about eleven years now.” I smile, “That is sweet of them.” He grins, “Yeah,...” He trails off, and we finish our tea.

“You want to feed them with me?” I nod, and we do the same routine of me, carrying the automated chair down the steps and holding it steady. I grab the feed once we make it past the french doors. We head out further, this time on the brick-paved trail, and spread the feed out around the trail. They notice almost immediately, and they all rush over, and I gasp as I watch them eat. “Wow, can they get any more majestic?” He nods, “Yeah, when they all walk with their feathers out. It’s a sight to see since they only do it once in a while.” I nod and watch them all get enough of the feed and go their separate ways. Yugyeom and Jackson stay before he turns around and shows me his flight and flies to the top of a tree. “Uh, did he just fly? I did not know they could fly. I thought they were like ostriches. Oh my god, this made them so much cooler.” Jinyoung laughs, “Yeah, they are one of the largest flying birds.” I grin, “Oh, wicked.” He agrees before Yugyeom starts squawking at him, and Jinyoung squawks back. I raise a brow but don’t question it as I watch Yugyeom look between the two of us again before he makes a squawk of surprise. I stand up, and he swiftly turns and pushes me towards Jinyoung. “Um?” Jinyoung squawks at him back, and Yugyeom ruffles his feathers and walks away. “Um, what was that about?” He smiles over at me, “He thinks I need a little push, and he is um?...” He looks down at his hands, “He is like courting you for me?” My mouth drops open, but I don’t let out a sound. “I uh,... he thought I liked you before. And for me coming out with you a second time. Probably confirmed his suspicions?” My cheeks turn red, and I look over to see his cheeks are red as well. “Um,... can I ask if his suspicions of you liking me are true?” He nods, “I may,... Would that be crossing a line?” I shake my head no, “No,... I may as well.” We sit there for a moment, wondering where to go from here. “Hey, I thought I would find the two of you out here!” We look over at Jaebeom, and he comes over to us. “Am I interrupting something?” We exchange a look before shaking our heads no.

After that confession, nothing really changed. The next month was filled with doing random activities together and going to actual doctor appointments. Jinyoung refused to go into the room alone and dragged us both along. When the doctor would turn away from us, we would make silly faces at each other. While trying to hold our laughter in, which was pretty successful until they would leave for a moment. And we would be in fits of giggles by the time they can back. We would quickly conduct ourselves and grin at each other. These are the moments I would never wish for to end.

I get a call from my contracting office, “Jaebeom only hired you for three months and two weeks. So in a week, we will be assigning you to a new place.” When I get off the call, I start bawling into my pillow. I feel at home here. I do not want to leave them. What happens when I leave them? Will their routine go back to normal? I can’t let that happen. And what about my feelings for Jinyoung? I don’t think I am ready to get over them. As I bawl, I hear a soft knock on my door. I quickly wipe my tears and tell them to come in. It’s Jinyoung, “Hey,... Um, are you okay? I think I heard you crying.” My brain battles me on whether I should tell him the truth or fib. And I tell him softly about my company call. He moves closer, and before I can start crying, I feel his hands holding mine. I look up at him, and he squeezes my hands. “It’s okay. I am here. I am not going to let you leave me. Unless... that is what you want?” I shake my head no, “I want to stay here with you,... but I can’t if my contract is over.” He removes a hand from mine and pulls out his phone from the holder, dialing up something. “Hello, I would like to speak to the contracting department.” I raise a brow, trying to hold back my tears still, “Yes, this is Park Jinyoung. I am currently under the care of (L/n) (Y/n). My butler, Lim Jaebeom, called and had you assign them to me. And I want the contract extended indefinitely. Yes,... I know how much that will cost. Now, I wish for you never to call them again. Unless they call first.” He hangs up and places it back in his holder, “J-Jin-Jinyoung?” A few tears slip from my eyes, and he raises my chin to look him in the eyes. “I think I’m in love with you.” He brings up our joined hands and wipes my tears with his thumb. “You don’t have to cry. You’re not leaving.” I nod and throw my arms around him, “I think I love you too, Jinyoung. I am not going to leave you either.” He rubs my back, and I pull back. I look down at his lips, “Aw man, I am interrupting something this time.” We shake our heads, and I peck Jinyoung’s cheek. Jaebeom says, “I was going to ask if you wanted to see Youngjae’s and Soyeon’s baby peacocks but... since you guys are busy.” We roll our eyes, and we head over to the stairwell. Jaebeom raced us down there and opened the doors. “It is going to be a little awkward third-wheeling you guys now. But I think I can get used to it. Considering I have been doing that unofficially for a while now.” We roll our eyes at him again, and he laughs. He leads us over to the pile where the harem is all circled around the bundles of joy.

They squeak at their mother, and we all coo at them. I find myself holding Jinyoung’s hand, and my heart nearly falls apart. I feel a soft peck on my hand and turn to see Yugyeom. I didn’t think a bird could look smug but turns out I’m wrong. Because Yugyeom surely looks smug, I squint at him, and he squints back. Before joining the rest of the harem to stare at the little ones. “I think Yugyeom approves.” Jinyoung looks up at me, “I think so too...”

A few days later, after helping Jinyoung bathe and whatever else. Jaebeom tells me to go, get dressed up nicely. I raise my eyebrows at him, and he tells me to go along with it. So I do. When I finish getting dressed, he brings me into the dining room located on the first floor. It’s the first time I have ever been into this one, let alone eat in here. The room is dimly lit with fairy lights hanging all around with a red candle lit and slowly melting. He brings me over to the seat, and I scoot myself in and before I can ask. Jinyoung comes into my view and sits in front of me, “I thought I would make our first date special. So I asked Jaebeom to prepare all of this... I hope it’s not too much.” I shake my head, “It’s perfect.” Jaebeom brings over two plates, “Bon appetit if you need me. I will be in the upstairs dining room. Eating by myself and watching the notebook.” We shake our heads and laugh, “Thank you, my compliments to the chef.” He rolls his eyes and sees himself out.

We eat slowly, “Thank you for taking care of me and falling in love with me.” I grin, “How could I not? Loving you is everything I dreamt of and more.” He blushes at my words, and we eat before he places his hand on the table, and I put mine on his. He intertwines our fingers as we began to realize that this is the beginning of a forever. “With you next to me, I think I can take on the world.” I whisper to him, “We will take on the world together.” I grin as we finish our dinner, and I put the plates in the sink. I quickly wash them before joining Jinyoung. He grabs my hand and leads me over to the french doors.

“Fun fact, baby peafowls can walk three days after they are born.” I gasp, “No way.” He laughs, “Yeah, come on.” He speeds up a bit over to Soyeon and Youngjae. The peafowls raise their heads at us before she lifts her wing. And the peachicks walk around the two of us before rejoining her warmth. I am simply amazed, “Can you believe that?” He nods, “Well, we are like family to these Peacocks, so they want their babies to understand that as well.” I look over at him, “My heart is going to combust with this information.” He grins, “Yeah, imagine me when I was little, and I figured that out.” I grin over at him, “Man, you must have run to your parents, and they must have been so happy for you.” He nods, “They were and asked me to introduce them, of course.” I laugh, “That is adorable. I love you.” I blush as those words slip out, and he pulls me down, and I fall onto his lap, and he kisses me. “You don’t know how long I have wanted to do that.” My cheeks are beet red when we pull away, and his cheeks match mine. “Let’s do it again.” He laughs, and we kiss again. I turn around and look at who is pecking my back to see Yugyeom and Jackson there. Their wings spread, and I cannot help but laugh, “I think they are protecting the peachick's eyes.” He laughs, “I think so too... Let’s take this back, shall we?” I grin and move off of him and place a kiss on his lips again.

38 notes · View notes

shining-red-diamond · 3 years

Text

Shallow Waters (Part V)

Words: 1.7k

Pairing: Hendery x Brittany (OC) (feat. WayV and Louis)

Rating: PG-15

Genre: fluff, some angst

Warnings: mentions of sex and mating, blood, mentions of abandonment and infidelity

Brittany’s lunch consisted of ham, broccoli, and mac & cheese, while Hendery chowed down on some raw salmon. He hated that he wouldn’t be able to try the foods that she or other humans enjoyed, but he was grateful she was willing to find him a variety of different fish. That way, he didn’t feel as if he was eating the same thing over and over again. The drinks, however, didn’t affect him, yet he preferred to drink just water.

The weather cleared up by the time the couple had finished their meals. While still cloudy, the rain and thunder had come to a halt. Hendery glanced out the window and watched the ocean as Brittany cleaned the dishes.

He then thought about his siren friends. It had been almost two months since he last saw them, and he figured they had to have been finished with helping the other sea creatures. What better opportunity for Brittany to meet the sirens?

Turning to Brittany, he asked her, “Would Brittany like to meet Hendery’s friends?”

She paused midway through loading the dishwasher when he spoke. There was a moment of silence before she answered, “Oh, the sirens?”

“Yes.”

“Of course, I would,” she smiled as she closed the dishwasher and started it. “When?”

“Would Brittany like to go now? The storm has stopped.”

She glanced out the window to see he was right. The clouds still looked heavy as if the bottom might fall out again, but if they were only gone for a few minutes they should be fine.

“Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll go change.”

Knowing they might have to swim again, Brittany went back to her room and slipped on her blue bikini before putting on a loose cover up. Hendery was in awe of her when she returned to the kitchen.

“Let’s go quickly before it rains again,” she said as she grabbed the merman’s hand, almost ignoring his admirations of her.

When they reached the beach, Hendery transformed into his merman form. He led her out in the same direction of where they first hung out about two months earlier; but instead of stopping there, they swam a little further until there was what Brittany could describe as an oasis. Palm trees as tall as a two story building produced coconuts, golden sand surrounded the sapphire-colored lagoon, and various birds inhabited the surrounding trees. A few stray cats and dogs drank from the water, but they never bothered the couple.

“Wait here,” Hendery instructed his lover before swimming off into the ocean.

Brittany sat down on the beach and patiently waited. Looking around, she spotted a shaded area by the lagoon and decided to wait under there. The moment she sat down a soft mew came from her left. When she took a glance, the sound had come from a Siamese cat sniffing at her wrist before licking her right on her dove tattoo. The cat then stared up at her with large blue eyes and sat down.

“Where did you come from, little buddy?” Brittany giggled. “You don’t seem to have a tag on you.”

Holding her hand out with her palm facing up, the cat sniffed her hand again and nuzzled its face in it. She scratched his head and smiled. The cat purred as he (she checked) brushed against her hip before resting his head on her stomach.

“Am I warm?” Brittany asked as she pet his back.

For a few minutes, she bonded with the cat, petting his head as he purred happily. She even named him Louis, despite him not being her pet.

“Brittany!” Hendery’s voice called to her, followed by a few splashes.

His head emerged, followed by his body and tail crawling up on the beach. He looks so gorgeous soaking wet from the ocean, Brittany thought as he adjusted himself in a comfortable sitting position.

The cat didn’t mind being carried in Brittany’s arms as she walked over to where her merman was sitting. When she sat down, the feline leaped out and scurried over to Hendery’s tail.

“Did Brittany make a new friend?” Hender chuckled as the cat tried playing his scales.

“He just came up to me as if he had known me for a long time,” she explained. “He’s a very social kitty.”

Hendery pet the furry friend for a second before he told Brittany to look out towards the ocean. “The sirens are about to appear.”

Sure enough, six heads popped up and moved closer towards the couple. Frightened by the sudden movements, the cat jumped and ran off.

“Funny creatures,” the merman commented before turning his attention back to the six sirens, who were now seemingly wading in the water.

“Hello, Brittany,” a siren with round eyes and a broad nose greeted with a friendly smile. “Hendery has told us great things about you. I’m Kun.”

All of them were well built with toned abs and strong biceps, but in a way that was pleasing to the eye and not so much body builder. It was more of them gaining strength and being fit from doing whatever it is they do. They each had a distinct tattoo somewhere on their arms, neck, or torso. Kun had a fatherly presence as he seemed to be the leader figure of the group and sported a mark shaped in a sort of sun with rays on his shoulder.

“Sirens who are opposite of the myth,” the tallest one with a deep voice jokes.

“I’m aware,” Brittany nods. “What’s your name?”

“Lucas.”

One by one, the sirens introduced themselves to Hendery’s lover. Lucas’s skin was more tan than the others, and he had a sort of flower tattoo on his left side. Xiaojun was well-mannered with sharp eyes and a mark of a starfish shape on his hip. The second tallest, WinWin, had a unique ears shape where one was more pointed than the other and a softer jawline with some sort of mended heart shape etched the center of her sternum. A feline faced siren of the bunch called himself Ten and sported an intricate tattoo on his right forearm; and the smallest siren YangYang was the youngest and had a more boyish aura about him while his tattoo was displayed over where his heart would be.

“Hendery has told me how you took him in,” said Brittany as she sat up a little straighter.

“We were all very young,” Ten explained. “YangYang was almost one and Kun was five. When we were all swimming around the Gulf of Mexico one day, we saw a tiny, two year old merboy so weak and crying.”

“So, you raised him when you guys were basically children?”

“Sirens’ brains age differently from humans and merfolk,” WinWin added. “However, we still lived with another mermaid who cared for us until Kun was fourteen.”

“Once Hendery turned eighteen, he ventured off around the world,” the merman finished. “He settled in Florida, because his friends lived there.”

“And that’s where he found you, Brittany,” Kun finished.

The sirens continued telling their stories about adventures with Hendery and updating their friend on what they were doing in the ocean. Each of them were extremely kind and didn’t hesitate to help others in need, even going to war to protect a race of sea nymphs in the Mediterranean. Yet, whenever Brittany asked what makes Hendery different from the other merfolk, they just gave her the same answer her lover did: sharp teeth with an appetite for only raw fish.

“I mean, who were his parents?” she asks.

“Well, we know for a fact his father is the king of a mermaid city off this coast,” Ten answered. “We found that out about a year after we took him in. The king was infamous for sleeping with other creatures before he crowned a mermaid his queen. So far, Hendery was the only result of his affairs. We’re not quite sure who his mother was.”

Brittany examined Hendery as he chomped on a flounder YangYang had caught for him, fish blood trickling down a little bit.

“He could be only half-merfolk,” she concluded.

“That’s what we have thought as well,” Kun agreed. “But we never brought it up as to not make him feel that he wasn’t worth anything by being different.”

“He is different” -she looked at her lover once more- “but special.”

His cheeks blushed as he wiped his mouth.

Louis returned to the small gathering, and he immediately wanted some of Hendery’s snack. The merman happily tore off a piece and fed it to him.

“So, are you guys mates yet?” YangYang asked as he tried to reach out and pet the cat.

Brittany was confused. “In what sense?”

Kun thumped the youngests forehead. “You can’t just ask couples stuff like that.”

“Sorry,” the youngest yelped. “I just noticed she doesn’t have a mark yet, and I was curious.”

“Brittany and Hendery are lovers,” Lucas added. “There’s a difference.”

His comment is what switched on the lightbulb in Brittany’s brain.

“Wait, mates?” she repeated. “As in, have we...done the deed? And what’s a mark have to do with anything?”

Kun explained everything to Brittany. For merfolk, the mate’s mark was given to females in the space between the neck and the shoulder, and the male would have an imprint of the wound in the exact spot on his skin. In a sense, it was like a marriage ritual between the two beings who truly loved each other.

“But as you have guessed,” the eldest siren finished, “it’s done during intimacy.”

Brittany nodded. Hendery held her hand and kissed it. He knew sooner or later they would have to follow through with the ritual, but he respected his lover enough to go forward with it if she was ready.

“I apologize if I said anything out of turn,” YangYang piped up. “I say things without thinking sometimes.”

“You’re fine,” she reassured him.

WinWin glanced behind him towards another end of the beach. “We have to go,” he informed.

Kun nodded. “We’ll hang out again, soon,” he promised. “YangYang put the cat down.”

WIth a finish trick splash, the six sirens swam off to whatever task they had been called to do, and Louis shook himself dry.

Tags: @fantasywayv @ezralia-writes @dearyongs @strawberryguema @daybreakx @neocitybyday @jaekissd @not-majestic-bluenicorn @queen-of-himbos @lilhwahwa @philosopher-of-fandoms @the32ndbeat @dreamystuffers

19 notes · View notes

smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Trade Off - Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody x Reader (Animal Kingdom)

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

@mandy23b - in advance please forgive this ridiculous little AU.🙈 GIF CREDIT: X

Author’s Note: Look - it’s my favourite scene in the whole movie, OK? Let me have this slight AU! But we all know in the happy universe in my head it all worked out after this right?

Also, for those unaware, yes... you can sing about stock trading! Imagine how happy I was to find fitting lyrics!

Disclaimer: AK has nothing to do with me / I really tried to gloss over/layman's terms stock trading... I don’t know if I did a good job / Lyrics & gifs not mine.

Premise: After Baz pitches to Andrew the idea of stock trading it’s clear his friend is fairly dismissive. Baz enlists your help to follow through...

Words: 4126

Warnings: Swearing / brief mention of drugs / Slight AU

_____

Your gonna break my bank before too long I'm taking out a loan But when you turn your kind of lovin' on Honey I just can't say no, no no no no no no

Your gonna break my bank before too long I'm running out of dough But when you turn your kind of magic on Honey I just can't say no, no no no

Maybe I'll play the stock market Put some money in my pocket Ain't no telling what your gonna need next I need to steal a Sherman tank Just to break into a bank All my buddies think it's funny 'Cause I'm spending all my money On some honey like there's something to prove 'Cause for a little of your lovin' There ain't nothing much that I wouldn't do It's a business doing pleasure, a business doing pleasure with you

---

With the amount of time Andrew and yourself seemed to be spending around each other these days, you weren’t sure why one of you hadn’t taken up permanent residence in the others home. That deduction wasn’t exactly fair – he was with you to hide from the police for yet another thing he’d gone and done (that you didn’t want to know about), and he wasn’t about to leave the house you’d just pulled up at. Maybe Baz would eventually be able to persuade him that living with you was the good idea, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to do it alone. Of course without Baz you wouldn’t be here right now with all your gear – but you understood why this wasn’t a conversation that could come through Andrew. He’d never talk about it, maybe bury it in the back of his mind and forget the discussion ever happened with his friend. Baz had got home and immediately called you, to try and keep the idea on the table. By involving you Baz would create two fronts for the same goal; perhaps you’d be able to collectively persuade something out of Andrew yet – out of this house and out of this life… You weren’t about to hold your breath. But you’d take anything as a start. When you reached the front door and knocked, you were surprised for it not to be opened by your partner (or his partner in crime). Andrew usually headed you off at the sound of your engine, instead you came face to face with a teen you didn’t recognise. He also clearly had no idea who you were, by the fact that he stood there blinking with a blank expression. You took a step back and surveyed the driveway; okay, one car was missing but you doubted that absolutely everyone was out at once. You wouldn’t expect Andrew to venture out under anything but the cover of midnight with the cops probably still out there looking for him… having said that, apparently the lead up conversation had happened in a supermarket, so what did you know. “Uh,” You turned back to him, looking super awkward and not at all a part of the house he was standing in, “hey. Are the guys in?” He straightened a little, “Uhm, some of them are y-yeah, would you like me to get them? I mean I can-” He pointed back, then squinted at you, trying to recall if he had ever seen your face and if there were a name to go with it. Concluding the answer was no, he asked the question; “Uhm, who..?” “Y/N.” Your eyes flicked behind him, “Though you can also hold that thought.” “I’ll take it from here, mate.” The teen turned to Andrew, a few steps behind him up the corridor, and also who you were now staring at. “Oh, sure.” His back up against the wall already let you know what the power play was. “Hey-!” You stopped him before he left, “What’s your name?” “…Jay.” “Jay? Jay… Jay…” You pondered for a second, because Andrew had mentioned this before, “Oh! Julia’s son! Yes! It’s nice to meet you, Jay!” and with a smile on your face, to Jay it was almost startling that anyone to do with this family – Andrew in particular - would give him such a thing. “You too, Y/N.” Andrew shot him a look that seemed to suggest he forget your name in the next 3 seconds or face consequences, before turning those blue eyes on you. “What are you doing here?” You kept your reply level to his blunt question. “You just left. Which I expected, but you left some stuff. Not why I’m here, though.” You indicated to the house, “May I enter?” Andrew took a step back and nodded, beckoning you forward. You looked left and right with an affirming nod that you weren’t followed and hopped inside, arms winding around him immediately. “Oh my god, Andrew, are you okay?” “Fine.” You closed your eyes, burying your face in his shoulder, waiting patiently until he returned your embrace, “I know it’s stupid,” you mumbled, “but every time I hear sirens, I…” “Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself.” He only murmured it, hand to the back of your head, “…Why did you come?” “Oh, well-” You didn’t want to pull away but you wished to explain, moving your laptop case around, “I hear you don’t have a computer – and failing that, I do have every decent stock trading newspaper you could possibly hope for!” Andrew blinked slowly a few times, bemused by your encouraging grin, “Baz.” It wasn’t a question. “Mhm!” “You’re both crazy.” You weren’t about to let him dismiss this, and followed him into the back of the house – by the looks of it only he and Jay were in, “Wait-! I thought it was a good shout! Will you at least hear us out?” “No. It’s ridiculous.” “Andrew…” He paused and turned to your defeated tone, “Humour me.” He sighed heavily at the look on your face, “Okay. Fine…” He held his hand out for yours, and you linked your fingers with a gentle smile, it was a start. Hopefully Andrew would be receptive to the rest of the information you had to impart. ***

You slid your laptop out of its bag and powered it on, Andrew sat tentatively next to you, clearly unsure about the whole thing. You were certain that by the time you’d talked him through this, and made it so easy for him to understand what to do, with Baz’s help you could turn the tables. You didn’t think this was going to be an overnight miracle, but if it did anything at all that would be an achievement.

As you waited for your own profile to load, you opened today’s selection of newspapers to the trading pages and lay them out in front of him. Right now they looked like a bunch of funny letters with green, red or black numbers. And occasionally a confusing looking graph. It wouldn’t be long before Andrew Cody was reading these like a pro. “Woah.” Andrew’s eyes flicked from the papers to your screen, and he jabbed the number in the top right, “What is that?!” You supposed to him ‘that’ was an eye watering amount of Australian dollars. “That’s how much my portfolio is worth right now. It’ll fluctuate but it’s always somewhere around there. I always tend to go safe - but that means buying high and usually they stay high. You can buy low and have something grow exponentially, but also risk investments blowing up in your face. As you’re starting, maybe you’d like to invest in a bit of both. It’s all a guessing game Andrew, so there’s no wrong answers. If I set you up a profile and get you started, you can do it at your leisure. If you don’t want the hassle of a computer, then it’s as easy as collecting a paper, I can manage your portfolio for you. Or you can go the other way and pay someone else to do it. And if you trust them, then it’s as simple as giving them your money and they make the trades for you. But that’s maybe not so much fun if you’re looking to make a living out of this, which you certainly can. It’ll give you something to do, at least.” “Yeah, but how does that work? How do you make money?” You supposed you were happy that he had questions, and was cutting straight to it. You’d expect nothing less from this Cody. “Two ways. Your shares pay out dividends to you – i.e. a share of company profits - a few times a year, best to spread your portfolio over companies that pay out in different months to have a steadier income! Or you buy low, sell high as you can, or buy high sell even higher and make money like that. Then you keep the money or invest it, so on and so forth.” Baz had explained to you that he'd put thousands into this and was making good money and that he’d mentioned this to Andrew, met only with confusion. It was your job to untangle that.

You pointed to the number he was still staring at, “If I sell everything I have right now, I can have that in the bank, right? Instead I get paid steadily throughout the year. If you’re gonna make a living out of this,” you made sure to give him a look that would get Andrew’s stare back on you, because you meant it, “you’ll probably want to do a bit of both.” “Where am I getting the money for this, exactly?” You folded your arms, he surely had money of his own but you wanted all this to be as clean as possible, “If you’re prepared to take this seriously, I’m prepared to front you the money. I can make recommendations too if you want that. But I was gonna help you pick a few out for yourself...” “I don’t even know where to start.” Andrew’s voice strained for a second as he ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. “Baby, baby...” The last thing you needed was for him to start winding up on you, you took his hand “that’s why I’m here. We do this together, slow or fast as you like, okay? Let’s see what you like the look of, alright?” “...I- I don’t know...” “Andrew.” You moved your hands to his thighs, face close to his, “This is yours, you’re not expected to be an expert overnight, but you have help now. This is a real chance for you... and I know that counts for something. You can’t want to spend the rest of your life like you have the past few months?” You didn’t want him to either, and as he turned from you again you scraped your nails through his hair, as if to tuck it back behind his ear. Andrew’s blue eyes searched your screen for an answer, hand laying on top of yours, not holding you, but still there. “Hey, maybe you and Baz can go into trading together.” You thought that might have been Baz’s idea and motivation anyway, and if Andrew had someone to do this with, in times that you weren’t around, that might help his desire to be involved. His eyes returned to yours, this look hard and piercing, like you were insane. Andrew instantly began to set you straight: “You really think this is just gonna end?” “No.” And that was the truth. You knew better. “But I’m optimistic that it would wind down and you can change.” “It’s too late for that.” “No. It isn’t. Andrew you can’t write yourself off. No one else has - we’re here and we believe in you.” Baz and yourself, your family… The people that really mattered, the people who would actually support him. This time you linked his fingers with yours, “Baby, I want a future with you... I’m scared that one day someone is going to turn up at my door and tell me you’re dead.” It was obvious how serious you were by the tone of your voice, that little waiver you weren’t holding back. “Y/N...” “Andrew, I will beg you... please just- have a go and think about it, and I just- I don’t want to lose you.” He looked back to your portfolio - as if a bunch of numbers and charts and virtual money was going to give him all the answers. But how could it? How could this be the key to the way out of the life he was living? He didn’t see it - and yet you and Baz so desperately believed in this. Andrew didn’t want to let you both down, and yet maybe he could get a kick out of proving you both wrong. Crime was the only way... but crime isn’t the only way... Heck you already had tried labouring the point that drugs wasn’t going to cut it with you. But there were track marks still in his skin, weren’t there. You couldn’t save him, but you tried so hard... you probably deserved him trying. “Okay.” His voice was quiet, but he looked back to you with a nod, “Show me.” You explained it all in as basic layman’s terms; most important to you was that he didn’t have any excuses for not being able to follow though once you left. You taught him how to read the numbers and exchange names in the paper first, green up, red down, black unchanged. That as long as he had noted what he bought them at he could always make sure to sell at profit. Then you spent a little while setting up his profile on your website and Andrew began trying to figure out where he wanted to invest the money you were saying you’d front him. You had a lot of fun watching him scrunch his face in concentration and try to reason out why he should invest in this particular thing. Some of it was way off, but you guided him - he’d get it, of that you were certain. Andrew was sharp, this was all new. You wouldn’t be surprised if later tonight you got a call: Y/N, I can’t sleep but I’ve been thinking about these investments and... You kept flicking back to your own to show him that he could start with what looked small and yet end up with something like this relatively easily, and you knew Andrew was starting to get it when he could interpret a graph without you telling him what it meant. And there was a hint of enjoyment on his face when you would smile and nod and say, “Yes exactly!”

The next time you heard footsteps, Baz was the one waltzing into the room. “Ahhh! Jay told me you two would be hiding someplace and HOLY SHIT-! Is that an investment portfolio!?!” He jogged his friend’s shoulder, “Oh, so it’s hard if I ask, but when your girlfriend pulls up you can put one together, huh!?” Andrew tipped his head, pushing Baz back, “You’re in this together, don’t give me that bullshit.” Baz cackled and hugged you, “Ah! That’s my girl-! You got him invested in you yet?!” “No, that could go wrong, very wrong. I didn’t even mention my company.” Andrew’s eyes flicked between you, causing Baz to smirk, “There you go Pope, you can get your criminal activity in there instead-! Invest and break the law! And you don’t even have to go outside to do it!” “Don’t encourage him!” You folded your arms, mouth open in disbelief - the goal of this was the complete opposite! This was Baz’s big plan, what was he doing!? “What?” “Insider trading.” You turned to Andrew, “Like, buy shares of my company and, as CIO, I tell you when you buy or sell depending on what we’re up to that will have the stock market value pushed up or down.” “Oh, you can do that?” And then at the look on your face Andrew changed track, “But it would be illegal. I get it. Can I invest in your company though?” “Knock yourself out, but I’m not telling you anything!” “This is your chance to have her never talk about work to you ever again, Pope! I’d take it!” “Shut up!” But there was even a small amused smile on Andrew’s face as Baz laughed this time around. “See all you need is to know some people within companies and you can do insider trading all over your portfolio!!” “I thought we were getting out of crime not getting you in more trouble!” “I’m trying to encourage him!” “Can’t believe I’m about to say it’s better than drugs, but we are not starting with insider trading! Oh my god-!” “Ah! But it is better than pushing drugs! Right Andrew?” Andrew looked to you, and you dare him to say it, “She thinks anything is better than drugs.” “I cannot believe you two.” You turned back to Baz, “Leave right now-! Before he latches onto this...!” “I was only kidding!” But he motioned to leave anyway, grabbing Andrew’s shoulders again, “I know she’s joking but seriously no insider trading, mate, you’ll lose her!” “I’ll lose my job too probably!” “Ah-! Yeah, definitely not-!” Baz waved, “See you later, happy investing!” Then turned back, “Oh yeah! Pope, remember to make sure that portfolio also supports your uptown girls’ lavish lifestyle!” He looked directly at you, tongue in cheek. “WHAT?!” “Gotta cost to run a Lamborghini everywhere in your designer heels and purse, darlin’.” You let Baz know you were not impressed, but that only made him laugh as he started back down the stairs. Andrew watched him go with a shake of his head; “He’s a fucking moron.” “His heart is in the right place.” You mused, turning back to your partner, “Yours is sometimes, too.”

Before long Andrew was leaning on his arms staring at your computer screen with a blank look on his face. You thought that meant that his interested attention on this was just about over. You made sure your movement was slow as you ran your hand up his arm and shoulder, stroking his back gently before sifting your fingers through his hair. Andrew’s eyes remained on your screen as he blinked slow, but the quiet hum you pulled from him was enough; he was content. When you moved to shut everything down, he simply nodded and let you continue to stroke his back for a few minutes; he closed his eyes, moving his head to rest across his arms and you knew Andrew felt safe, he trusted you enough to simply do that. Baz gave you a general call soon after: “Kids! We’re eating if you wanna come grab something.” Andrew was slow off the mark, wanting to stay with just you for a little while longer, but when he followed you downstairs, Baz and Jay were out of the way of the main room and kitchen. You sat yourself up on the counter as you both continued your conversation, sometimes with words and sometimes in silence but fluid, there was no break in communication, not even once. Andrew remained as close to you as possible and you ate in comfortable silence, still content to sit up on the counter. He seemed a little too into touching you today, nearly always keeping a hand on one part of you – you were prepared to call him possessive; it was surely Jay’s presence making him do this. If not you’d welcome a change up, but you highly doubted that after all this time Andrew would do such a thing. You let him if only to revel in the attention, making sure to afford him affection back, hand over his, or touching him in the same place. All very delicate – and yet kissing you was a step too far, no matter how close he got. You’d persuade one out of him eventually, you were sure… You spent a little time after that talking with Jay and Baz, glad that the other three weren’t present. Although not entirely sure why, also not eager to find out. Andrew’s participation in the conversation barely registered, attention on you the whole time. Today not hard to keep, and very much wanted. If only you could guarantee such a thing more regularly… and yet maybe if Baz and yourself managed to achieve something, and start something here, perhaps you really could. Eventually your mobile rudely interrupted you. “What? No! Stay!” Baz protested. “Much as I would love to,” you glanced to Andrew, “and I really would – David’s in town so I gotta go meet him.” “David?” “Brother.” Andrew answered for you. You noticed how it never quite got back to his family that your foster brother also happened to be a cop. Long may it remain that way. “Aw, bring him here!” “Uh. NO.” You waved that one off quickly, “It was lovely to meet you Jay! Baz, a pleasure as always!” “No worries – I’ll call you later this week, yeah?” “You may.” You gave him a wink, as if he needed your permission, and collected your bag before Andrew walked you to the door. “If you need me to get you a computer-” He made a sound of discontent, “Let’s just- see how it goes. Okay?” “Alright, but I’m here for you, you know that, right?” “Of course I do.” He gave a nod, “I said I’d try. I’m not breaking a promise to you.” Try was a big word, Andrew was always trying for you… You just wanted something to stick now. You prayed it would be this. His hand remained in yours until you got to the outside door, where you swivelled back to him, gathering his other hand. “Thank you, for hearing us out on this.” “Save that for more than day one.” “But there’s a day one!” You beamed, “That already means more to me than you can imagine.” Andrew gave a nonchalant shrug, but he could imagine, quite clearly. You pulled yourself into him, brushing your lips gently to his. As he wasn’t being so generous with his kisses today, you were content to leave it as just that. Instead Andrew let your hands go and locked his arms behind your shoulders; keeping you against his lips, Andrew’s kiss became fierce. Oh, you’ll kiss me like this now your nephew isn’t in sight, huh?! But you wanted it; pushing your body up against his you wound your arms around him, fingers tangling back in his hair as he coaxed a gentle groan from you. Of course that was what Andrew wanted, by the way he smirked into the kiss. He pulled back, leaving you a little wide eyed and whiney, automatically craving more than that – and trying to catch your breath without panting too hard. By the way his eyes were studying your face (and liking what he saw), Andrew was clearly going to leave it there and took a step back as if to prove it. “Will I see you later?” It took a moment for what he’d said to register, “Uh, I… We’re having dinner, but as far as I know he’s driving back. Do you want me back… here?” “Call me when you’re done. I’ll see where I’m at.” “O-Okay…” Your head was still swimming from the kiss, and he shook his head slowly at you, granting you a single chaste one for balance, and as a mercy. You almost verbally thanked him. You took Andrew’s hand back in yours to walk those final two steps out of the house and the door, before turning to say your final goodbyes. Probably not for the day, maybe you’d get to see him later on. Hopefully he’d make good on that kiss – there’s no way Andrew didn’t know you didn’t want to leave him now. As you walked towards your car he couldn’t resist calling after you: “Don’t forget to keep me up to date on what you’re doing before you report to the street!” You couldn’t help but burst out laughing as you slid into your car, “Hell no, Andrew Cody! We aren’t doing that!” As you buckled up and started your engine he strolled over, so you wound your window down, “What?” He leant on your car door, “I did want to thank you for coming up. On account of everything else you do. Take care of yourself.” You rubbed his hands affectionately with a small smile, “You don’t have to thank me verbally.” Evidence, that’s what you really wanted. “I will, make sure you do too. No insider trading! I’m serious!” “No promises. Say hi to David.” You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, he’s exactly the kind of person who’d pick you up on it… Stay safe, at least until I call you again.” Andrew gave a nod, but it wouldn’t surprise you if his fingers were crossed behind his back as he stepped away from your car, hand raised. You waved back, taking a deep breath. One step at a time… You could do this, the three of you could do this if you worked together… It would be worth it; the road might be long but the destination was worth getting to. If Andrew could see that. He will, one day he will… You smiled as you pulled from the curb, you had faith, you believed in him. You had a future. There was nothing else worth believing in.

---

Thank you for reading! 😘😘😘

#Animal Kingdom #Ben Mendelsohn #Andrew Cody #Pope Cody #Andrew Pope Cody #186 #Andrew Cody x Reader #Andrew Pope Cody x Reader #Pope Cody x Reader #double-meaning title!#I think he looses the Ben element just once here #and I also realise how much of this is her initiating affection which goes back on nearly everything said previous... but it works for this #Elaiyna #Probably the more realistic way of how Elaiyna would meet Jay for the first time #Oh yeah David is back!#AU because Baz is alive and obvs in my head Andrew does this for real and we get a nice ending #Because honestly this is not a relationship I want to tear apart. But I don't see how they can work out either #Learning with Linzi: Stock Trading

35 notes · View notes

telltheworld-phff · 4 years

Text

Part II, chapter I: Althorp

Pain.

That’s all she could feel.

The sort of pain that would irradiate from her body and made her wonder if anyone could see it, as its force was undeniably present.

She felt nothing but pain.

She could deal with the soreness on her body. It felt as if she had run a marathon.

She could also deal with the heavy cramps that she was feeling ever since she woke up. As if she needed any reminder of what had just happened. She hadn’t asked for any medication to relieve her pain because she wanted to feel it. She wanted to be punished for what she had done.

What she couldn’t deal with was the emotional pain that had destroyed her and its relentless waves that kept shaking every single thought that crossed her mind. The waves were like a tsunami that with its violence and fast approach took away and destroyed everything it touched and she was drowning. Completely and willingly.

The waves made her remember everything that had happened a few hours ago.

The waves brought an emotional pain that shattered her dreams and hopes and wishes. Mocking her, showing the failure she had been. This earth-shattering feeling turned her world, mind, life and body upside down. She didn’t even have more tears to cry as they had dried somewhere in the middle of the night.

She was alone as she had wanted to be and surrounded only by sounds. Sound of the machine she was hooked to, sounds of the clock that showed her that time was going to pass whether or not she was ready for it, the sirens of the ambulances coming in and out of the emergency ward and the cries of a new baby that was born just down the corridor from her room. She longed to have had the chance to at least listen to her child cry. To have carried her pregnancy to term and to taste the happiness this new mom was probably feeling at the moment. And yet, here she was. Empty-handed, alone, bleeding and miserable.

She wanted to get up and run, possibly hide from everyone. Should she had the strength for it, she would have. But she could barely move a finger, let alone run.

She placed one hand on her belly. The same one she caressed the growing baby just the morning before, praying with all her might and force that everyone was lying to her. Wishing this all was a very bad joke, a tasteless prank. Everyone must be wrong.

But deep inside she knew it was true.

She knew that her body had been giving signs and she didn’t pay attention to it. She worked and travelled as if she wasn’t growing a tiny human inside her and now, funny enough, she really wasn’t anymore.

Maybe it would be for the best? If she couldn’t take proper care of a baby inside her, what would happen once the baby was born?

She would be better off alone and childless as she couldn’t bear to be responsible for anyone else’s death. She took a deep breath and felt every muscle hurt, her head was about to explode. She knew she couldn't speak as she had yelled until she scarred all of her vocal cords.

Her hands and arms were purple and swollen as she had tried to unhook herself from the blood transfer bag a nurse had hooked her to close to 2 in the morning. Her hair was in knots and her hospital gown was still bloodied.

Another proof of her failure and another brutal reminder that she had just lost her child.

She had lost her everything. She had lost her will to live because nothing else made sense anymore. Her unborn baby had become the centre of her life, her strength, her reason and her motivation.

Well, not really – her malicious mind reminded her, - if this baby was that important you wouldn’t have let it die. You didn’t even fight for it, you simply passed out and almost bled yourself to death.

Pathetic.

She would never know if the baby was a boy or a girl. She would never know if he or she would have her green eyes or Harry’s blue. If its complexion would be pale as Harry, chocolate as hers or a nice mix in the between. She didn’t know if he or she would be ginger. Could she even have a ginger baby?

She wouldn’t know its face. If it would have dimples, curly or straight hair. If it’d have the unmistakable Windsor genes or it’d be a Nogueira through and through. She wouldn’t know how is it like to feel the baby moving inside her. She wouldn’t know how labour would be or if she’d chicken out from the pain and ask for a c-section straight away. She wouldn’t know if she’d be able to breastfeed – if she’d like it or if she’d prefer to buy formulas.

She wouldn’t make her mum a grandmother.

And she wouldn’t give her man a child. The child he was expecting and dreaming about. The child he had built plans for. The child he was searching for a house to transform into a home for them.

The child he was willing to give up his title for.

Everything she got now was pain and shame and guilt and grief.

Why was it happening to her? Was she that bad of a person that this would be some sort of payback?

What makes you so important that you can’t go through something like this? Her evil-filled mind asked her.

She heard footsteps on the corridor and saw her door opening. Agnes was there, smiling. The pain she felt blinded her from seeing the truth in Agnes’ eyes. She was devastated. She knew that miscarriages were a common thing between women, but she hated every time it happened to one of her patients. With Carol, it seemed she had lost her grandchild such was the esteem she held for the brunette in front of her.

She took a tentative step towards the bed and Carol noticed it was way past nine in the morning. She had been awake the whole night.

“Good morning, Carolina.” Agnes asked, getting her file and reading the notes the other nurses had written. “How are you physically feeling?” she worded her question carefully.

Carol didn’t respond. She kept staring at the clock. Fixated on it. Hearing its tic, toc. It was comforting to know that time wouldn’t wait for her to get her shit together. And time was the only thing that she wanted now.

She would give everything she had for a moment in time to stop before she lost her child. She would give everything to have more time with the baby that even though was unplanned wasn’t not even by a single second unwanted.

She wanted to rewind time and do things differently and save her baby.

She always heard that mothers fight for their children and if need be, even give their lives for them. That was what Carol wanted to do. Be a mother to this child. Give her life in exchange for his or hers. She knew Harry would take good care of their baby even if she wasn’t around.

“Carolina?” Agnes called her, firmer this time. Carol had shut her out and not even remembered that she was in the room. She didn’t blink, she just stared at the damn clock and knew that it was laughing at her expense.

“I need you to please talk to me.” Agnes said, sitting by her side on the bed.

Carol didn’t move. She couldn’t, she was paralysed watching the clock.

“I know what you must be feeling...” Agnes said.

There it was. Pity and sympathy. Two things Carol didn’t need at that moment.

“And I want you to know that I did everything that I could to save your baby.” the doctor said, grabbing one of Carol’s hands gently.

Did she really? Her brain asked.

“I want you to tell me what you want.” Agnes tried again and Carol almost laughed. She wanted her child. Alive and well. There was nothing anyone could possibly give her at the moment that would make her feel better.

“I will give you space, then.” Agnes sighed. “A nurse will come to help you take a shower and change clothes.” she got up and stared at the girl she treated like a daughter. She seemed like a shell of the woman she once was. Staring at the clock and shutting everyone out. Agnes gently left the room and took a deep breath. She could only hope that Carol would bounce back from this. If she kept giving herself into the pain for too long, she wouldn’t make it.

(…)

Harry had spent the night awake. He sat by the window of his living room with a bottle of scotch beside him. He stared at the entrance of his house for the whole night and saw when the sun rose. He had drunk half of the bottle by that time and was irritated that it didn’t give him a buzz nor lessened the pain. He thought about compartmentalising it and go out and about on his day, as he had two engagements to be at but he knew he couldn’t do it. He wanted to feel the pain and go through it while it all was still fresh. If he bottled up everything it was bound to come back exploding in the future. He also knew that Carol wouldn’t forgive him if she saw that he was smiling for the cameras and hugging kids mere hours after theirs had died.

If she speaks to you again. His mind remembered.

He had been hurt by Carol’s outburst the night before. He tried to understand where she was coming from, but he didn’t think that she’d kick him out of the room that way. He had called the hospital and Agnes informed him Carol wasn’t speaking to anyone, or eating. She had tried to rip off the IVs from her arms and hands in the middle of the night.

He took a deep breath and texted Edward to let him know that he wanted all his engagements of that damn week cancelled and rescheduled. He also wanted to reschedule all engagements that had children involved for the upcoming months as farther away as possible. He couldn’t bear to be around children when his hadn’t made it.

Agnes had talked to him after they left Carol’s room and she was confident that Carol’s case fell under the more frequently than expected, she didn’t believe Carol had any sort of condition that would make things harder to have a child in the future. Miscarriage is something very common and sometimes it might be related to other complicating issues, but in other cases, it's simply nature being faithful to its course of only the strongest and most adaptable survives.

Edward replied asking lots of questions as to why those changes were needed and Harry simply ignored him. He wouldn’t come back to work until he felt at least a little bit better.

If you feel better at any point.

He felt like a black cloud was above his head numbing his senses and at the same time swallowing him whole.

He got up and went to his room without really thinking or registering what he was doing. He took a shower, got dressed and dried the tears that kept coming every time he thought about what had happened. He had drunk the night before trying to erase from his mind the scene of the woman of his life bleeding and losing their child.

What if he had asked her to go to Kensington, where Gerard and Martha would have kept an eye on her? What if he hadn’t offered to accompany his grandmother to the engagement, therefore, arriving earlier at her place? Why didn’t she tell him anything about blood pressure problems and migraines?

He knew that “what ifs” wouldn’t bring him any closer to changing the outcome of the events. And decided he needed to keep himself busy. Getting his car keys and without letting anyone from his security team know, he drove outside Kensington Palace straight to Carol’s apartment. He let himself in and he dreaded entering her bedroom but he knew he had to get things done and if her reaction last night was any indicator, she wouldn’t deal well if she saw all that blood.

He emailed her boss letting him know that she was in the hospital and that she would keep him posted. He grabbed all the sheets and duvet, almost ripping them off the mattress with rage and threw them inside the washing machine. He cleaned the floor, the furniture and searched inch by inch of the apartment for any spot of blood. When he found none, he made her bed with new sheets and packed her an overnight bag.

He then drove straight to the back entrance of St. Mary’s, getting out of the car and ignoring all the calls on his phone. Edward, Bill, his father… he didn’t really want to talk to anyone right now.

He went straight to the private wing where half a floor had been cleared after Harry was made aware someone had just given birth a few doors down the corridor from Carol’s room. He immediately demanded they were transferred to another wing.

He knocked on her door and opened it to find only a shadow of the woman he once had met.

She had her hair wet, soft curls forming around her face. She was half-sitting on the hospital bed and she was staring at a fixed point on the wall above the door. Harry closed the door after coming in and left the bag on the chair by the bed.

“Hey...” he said approaching her. She didn’t even move or acknowledge his presence. “I brought you a change of clothes and a few personal items. I emailed your boss saying that you’re at the hospital and that we will keep him posted.”

He waited for a reply but didn’t receive one. He tried to caress her head but she dodged his hand. Just another pain to feel. He saw she didn’t touch breakfast and that it was laying on the table across from them.

“Do you want any help to eat?” Harry tried again, looking at her. She didn’t look or talk to him. He noticed that she was staring at a clock and one could cut the tension inside that room with a knife.

“Carol, please…. Talk to me. We need to communicate to be able to grieve properly.” Harry said, sitting on the bed. “I haven’t slept the other night and for what I heard, neither have you.”

Tic, toc. Tic, toc. Tic, toc.

Only the sound of the clock could be heard there.

“Carol? I know what you’re feeling, but please, let me know what I can do to help.”

“Nothing.” her voice was cracked and hoarse and only above a whisper. But that was progress.

“I know I can’t bring our child back...” he started.

“All I want is time to go back.” She replied, looking at the clock and Harry was starting to feel irritated by that damn thing.

“I’m sorry about what happened.” Harry said, trying to grab her hand but she fiercely snatched it out from his hold.

“Don’t touch me. Why is everyone touching me now? Why is everyone bothering me with empty words of sympathy and promises when no one knows what really happened and no one can fucking give me time.” She said and he struggled to hear her well and understand what she was saying.

Both Agnes and him had stayed just outside Carol’s door for more than an hour listening to her screams, almost entering the room again every now and then to try and calm her but deciding against it.

“At least you’re talking now.” Harry said, looking at her. She looked frail and broken. Just like he was.

“I told you to get out. Just leave me the fuck alone.” She finally looked at him and he saw so much pain and hatred in her gaze that his heart broke into a million pieces yet again.

“If that’s what you want.” he got up and opened the door. “I will be back tomorrow.” he said leaving the room.

“Don’t bother” she replied not sure if he heard her.

He did.

(…)

Once inside his car, he thought about going back home to try and sleep a bit but his heart wanted him elsewhere. He wanted to grieve with Carol. He wanted her support to go through this and he wanted to support her as well.

He knew that she had taken the heavier blow on this, as she was the one carrying the baby, but she should also know that he was hurt. He was scared of losing both of them. If she was up to it, they’d start trying to have another child as soon as possible. And he knew that any child he could have with her or anyone else would never replace the one they lost.

His life had gained so much more meaning and purpose when he knew he had to be a role model for someone. That he’d get to parent his child and make him or her the best version of him and Carol together.

He just kept driving and trying to calm his shattered heart. He didn’t know where he was going or how he was driving. He turned off his phone. He didn’t want to see anybody. He didn’t want to talk to anybody. He just wanted his child alive and well.

He was startled when he recognised the black iron gates of the property. He had driven for an hour and a half without noticing where he was headed but it somehow made sense. He knew who he needed the most at the moment and unfortunately, she also wasn’t around to embrace him and promise that everything would be OK.

The guards promptly opened the gates and greeted him. For the first time, he didn’t reply and simply kept driving until he reached the stables on the background of the imposing Estate. He killed the engine and got off his car and walked the long gravel path until he approached the lake.

It was a sunny day and he put his shades on. He walked and was taken by emotion when he was right in front of it. He opened the shed, took out the small boat and pushed it until it was on the water, getting in and rowing his way to the island in the middle of the oval lake. He got out of the boat and when on land, his knees almost gave away and with trembling lips and heavy tears he approached the centre of the island where he could see, engraved in marble, the words “Loving mother”.

“Mummy,” Harry said, kneeling before her grave. “I’ve failed mummy. I couldn’t protect the people that I love and now I’ve lost them.”

He cried. Each tear made his body tremble and his lips quiver. He out-poured all the emotions held inside feeling safe to do so in that place. Feeling safe that his heart had unconsciously brought him where his mum was eternally resting.

“How do I make this pain go again, Mummy?” he cleaned his face with his palm. “It hurts so fucking much. I’ve lost my child. Your grandchild. And I think I’ve lost my girl too.”

The peaceful scenery only made it worse to balance the turmoil inside Harry’s heart and mind.

“I need you here with me.” he whispered. “But you’ve also been taken away from me too soon. Why?”

He cried his tears and his sobs were cutting through his body and shaking it. He thought he would never be able to recover from this. Never. He was a different man and now he had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“I don’t think I can get through this.” Harry said, looking at Diana’s grave and embracing his bent knees.

He stayed there the whole afternoon. If his uncle and cousins knew that he was there, thankfully no one approached the oval island. He cried and opened his heart to his mother, knowing that she’d listen to him. Knowing that she’d be taking care of him.

When the sun began to set he knew it was time to come back.

“Mummy, could you please take care of my baby with you in heaven? I don’t know if its a boy or a girl but I don’t care. Please tell him or her that we love him so much it hurts and we wish things could’ve been different. I don’t know how his mother and I will survive this searing pain.”

Harry cleaned the tears again and spoke just above a whisper.

“We did our very best but unfortunately that wasn’t God’s wish for us. Please cuddle our child in your arms the way you did with me and Wills. Love on him as you did on us. Both of you are greatly missed. And I love you both with all my being. I know that my baby is now with his grandmother and nothing bad can happen if he’s under your watch. I love you, mummy. And I love you, baby.”

#phff #part II #chapter 1 #Whenyoutelltheworldyou'remine #princeharryff #princeharryfanfic #princeharryfanfiction #britishroyal #british royal family #brf #fanfiction

15 notes · View notes

its-pronounced-quoassoint · 5 years

Text

Hospital

Just a little logicality fic that I wrote late at night. I hope you enjoy it. I would love to post a part two or more. If I do I’ll link to it here.

Inspiration for this post

Patton had been getting better until his condition took a turn for the worst. He was born with a rare blood disorder and was certain he was going to die around the age of two. But now, as a fourteen year old, he was the most optimistic person, likely to ever live.

He had been in and out of the hospital for all his life and hadn’t been there for six or so months when he had fallen extremely ill. Being rushed to the hospital was a rush that he sadly knew all to well and was no longer scared by the sirens of the ambulance or the musings of his mother in her attempts to soothe him. Instead, Patton found this whole ordeal rather annoying. His breathing mask was a little crooked and the straps around his ears were itchy.

They arrived at the hospital and Patton was placed in a room he had been in many times before. Doctor Marcie came in and out, checking one thing then leaving to attend to another patient before returning, only to leave yet again. There were no children’s hospitals nearby so the child section of the St. James hospital was often understaffed and over filled.

Patton waited patiently, though he had his iPad to help with that. Soon he was told that he would have to stay overnight for a while and was sent to an empty room. There were two beds, though the other had no patient. Two TVs and a curtain separating the room in two. Patton was put in the bed farthest from the door and was left with his mother and older sibling Talyn.

“Oh, Pat, don’t worry.” His sweet mother assured him.

“I’m not worried momma!” He giggled.

You’re so brave.” She cooed.

“Momma, he’s been here so many times, I think he’s used to it by now.” Talyn stated.

“Talyn!”

“Momma, they’re right.” Patton said. He grasped his Mother’s hand and smiled.

“Oh hun, you are perfect.” She sighed.

“No I’m not momma.”

“Pat, you know this isn’t the time to argue with her.” Talyn reminded their small sibling.

“Yeah.” He replied grinning up at his sibling.

As the night drew closer Patton’s mother and sibling had to leave. It was a bit tearful for the older woman but Talyn helped their mother out and soon Patton was left in the room. Alone.

Oh, he hated being alone. No one to talk to, no one to smile at, nothing but silence.

Luckily, he had his iPad and the room had a TV. Patton began absently flipping through stations until he found reruns of The Office. Using that as background noise he started scrolling through Instagram, liking posts and watching makeup tutorials and satisfying videos.

Then, around eight pm, another kid was rolled into the room and put in the other bed. He too, had glasses and Patton desperately wanted to point out that fact.

However, he knew that many kids didn’t want to talk with their ‘roommate’ right away. So he kept quiet.

After assuring the other kid was comfortable in his bed all but one nurse left. She walked over to Patton and began checking on him.

“How are you doing Pat?” She asked.

“I’m doing good Nora.” Patton smiles. Nurse Nora was Patton’s favorite. She was often his nurse while he was at the hospital and she never looked at him with pity and sadness like all the others. He wondered if her eyes were always filled with hope.

“You’re lookin’ alright. Everything seems fine. Other than you being sick that is.” She made Patton giggle.

“When is Emile coming?”

“He’ll be here to see you in morning Honeybee.” Nora told Patton.

“Yay! Oh, I have to ask him Remy!” Patton exclaimed.

“I’m sure Dr. Picani will be happy to tell you all about it.” Nora said looking at the chart.

She set down the chart and turned to Patton.

“Pat, this is Logan. He’s gonna be here for a while like you.” She told him.

“M’kay.” He replied side-eyeing the boy quickly.

Nora gave him a small ‘bap’ on the head and turned to leave.

“I’ll be back in to check on you again around eleven Honeybee.” She called.

Nora left the room and Patton felt his face ease out of the bright grin he had and into a smaller, more comfy smile. Patton lowered the volume on his tv as another episode of The Office began. He laid back his pillow and watched intently at the screen. Well, at least he was trying to watch intently. Instead he was sneaking glances at the other boy in the room. Logan, as Patton now knew, had his glasses off and his nose in a book. In fact, it appeared he had been left with a rather large stack of books.

Patton particularly liked how the boy’s facial expression shifted as he read. Logan’s small smile turned to shock, then his eyebrows creased into an angry look, then he softened and stared at the page in endearment. At one point Patton thought he had caught Logan re-reading the same paragraph several times. He was chewing on the inside of his lip in nervousness, but his eyes betrayed that action. Logan’s eyes were shimmering with a glow Patton knew only as love. He must be reading something he loved.

Logan flipped the page and that glimmer of love in his eyes faded away. Patton felt his own face waver as he saw this.

Patton then realized he had likely been looking at Logan long enough for it to be considered rude and turned away. After not being able to fully focus on the show Patton decided to turn off the TV and play on his iPad. The WiFi at the hospital was horrid but Patton had time to waste. While one particular game was loading Patton decided to take another glance at Logan.

The boy had somehow fallen asleep. The book rested on his chest that rose and fell and his hair was tossed carelessly around his face. Patton felt a grin grow on his face as he saw how content Logan was. The other kids that Patton had shared a room with in the past weren't usually content. Those kids slept with a permanent look of pain. Their eyes were so full of sadness. Some had tear stains on their cheeks that Patton didn't know how long were there or how long would last. Seeing a boy so peaceful like Logan made Patton so simply happy.

Logan then turned on his side toward Patton, the book falling to the floor. When the sound didn't wake Logan up Patton grabbed the IV on the side of his bed and got on his knees so he could wheel it around the bed. He got it to the left of him and attempted to quietly get off the bed. Once his feet were safely on the cold floor, Patton walked to the book and picked it up. Good Omens, Patton read. The cover was a simple sketch of a man with angel wings reading a red book in front of a black background. The font was funny looking and Patton made a mental note to try and read it once he was out of the hospital.

He went to place it on Logan's dresser when he heard a sudden intake of air next to him. Patton looked over and saw Logan suddenly sitting up in the bed, staring at him, clearly startled.

"Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Patton rushed to say. "It's just, your book fell while you were sleeping and I didn't want it to be on the dirty floor."

"Oh." Logan seemed to calm once given the explanation, his shoulders relaxed. "Thank you."

"Of course." Patton squinted as he ginned. He placed the book on the stand next to Logan's bed and walked, his IV in hand, over to the right side of his bed before sitting down cross-legged on the soft blue blanket his mother had left.

It was quiet. Patton decided he didn't enjoy the quiet and perhaps this was the time to talk to Logan. He looked over at the boy who had put his glasses on and was fixing up his hair a little. Patton felt a giggle rise from his throat. His glasses were crooked. Not enough that Logan could tell but Patton sure could.

"Um, Logan?" Patton asked.

"Yes?" He looked over at Patton.

"Your glasses are crooked." Patton told him.

"Oh." He began his attempts to fix them. After several tries where he would look to Patton for assurance that they were level and get a 'no' as a response Patton decided to simply fix it for him.

Once again pulled his IV to the other side of the bed, Patton walked over to Logan and adjusted the glasses on his face. He smiled at Logan once done and the boy smiled back, though Logan's was, a smaller simpler smile.

"You seem to know the hospital staff very well." Logan pointed out as Patton sat back down on his bed.

"Yea, I've got a blood disorder so I'm in and out of here a lot." Patton explained.

"Hm." Logan appeared to be assessing Patton's expression, though Pat couldn't tell what he was looking for. "Why did the nurse call you Honeybee."

"Uh, well," Patton felt embarrassment creep into his cheeks. "Nurse Nora was one of the very first nurses that I had on the regular rotation and when I first met her, I was obsessed with this stuffed animal. It was a bee with a little pot of honey on top. So, she started calling me Honeybee. Only a few people call me honeybee around here. Nora, Dr. Picani, Dr. Bollis, the secretary at the front desk, her name is Virginia, and the pastry chef down at the cafeteria, Mr. Thomas."

Logan nodded along as Patton gave him unasked for information. He didn't mind however. There wasn't much else to do.

Once it seemed like Patton was finished Logan decided to speak up. "I suppose I should tell you about my condition, seeing as you told me yours."

"Oh, you don't have to Logan! I understand if it makes you uncomfortable to talk about."

"Really?" Logan tilted his head.

"Yea!" Patton gave him another toothy grin.

"Thank you." Logan reciprocated.

"I never would want to make you uncomfortable. A lot of kids here don't like to talk about why they have to be in the hospital." Patton told him. "It's normal."

"I've heard you mention a Doctor Picani, who is that?" Logan asked.

"He's the child therapist at the hospital. He comes to visit all the kids at least once when they're here over night." Patton explained.

"Ah." Logan nodded in understanding.

The two continued to chat for a while. Patton would explain something about the hospital to Logan and Logan would ask some more questions until Patton had a question of his own.

"What is your book about?"

"Sorry?" Logan looked at his other bespectacled friend.

"Your book, I think it was called Good Omens. It had funny font and an angel on the cover." Patton clarified.

"You want to know about my book?" Logan asked.

"Well, yeah, that's why I asked silly!" Patton giggled.

"Oh, uh, well, it's about this angel and demon, both were sent to Earth to observe human evolution and perform miracles, that's the angel's job, or create mischief, the demon's job." Logan began to tell. "After a few thousand years the angel, who's name is Aziraphale, and the demon, who's name is Crowley, realize that whenever one does something beneficial the other just counteracts it with a bad deed."

Patton looked at Logan intently as he explained away the book. "Eventually they become good friends and both live in central London. Aziraphale owns and runs a bookshop while Crowley has a Bentley, you know the old car."

Patton nodded, reading the excitement and glee plastered all over Logan's face.

"Then the Antichrist is born, and he's supposed to bring about the end of the world. However, neither Crowley or Aziraphale want that so they attempt to stop the end of the world on the Antichrist's eleventh birthday. So they-" Logan looked Patton directly in the eyes. "are you planning on reading the book?"

"Oh, uh, I suppose so." Patton shrugged.

"Then, I guess I shouldn't tell you what happens. People tend to not like it when I explain in detail the plots of the books I'm reading." Logan looked down.

"No! No, no, keep going. Though I know how it ends that doesn't mean I won't want to read it." Patton assured him.

"Really?" Logan asked. Patton nodded quickly and Logan continued.

He explained every event in the book in great detail and would even draw Patton a diagram of confusing plot points so he could better understand it. Patton tried very hard to focus on everything Logan was saying but he found that when the boy was joyfully going on about something he's passionate about, Logan is hard to look away from. At some point Logan had walked over to sit on Patton's bed with him and was giddily showing Patton the diagram he had drawn up though at this point Patton had completely given up on paying attention to Logan's musings. Instead he had zoned out, his mind racing, never stopping to think about one thought or another too quickly. Though he somehow always tied his thoughts back to the boy sitting next to him, Patton decided to not unpack all of that at the moment. Besides, what real harm was being done if his absent-minded staring just so happened to be in the general area where Logan sat next to him.

"Patton."

"Ya-huh?" Patton's eyes came back into focus as once Logan got his attention.

"Oh, uh, I was just making sure you understood what I was saying." Logan gave a small smile before turning back to the "evidence" he had laid out on the bed.

"Yep." Patton continued to stare in Logan's general area as the smart boy went on.

"So, as I was saying I think-" Logan turned his head to the right and looked at Patton realizing the cheery boy was staring at Logan's hair. Logan exhaled and lightly took Patton's chin in his fingers, tilting the other boy's head back to the diagrams on the bed. This time assuring that he could fully understand what Logan was saying.

Patton pursed his lips and visibly pouted a little but didn't complain. He did however sneak one last look at Logan who had just the lightest hue of pink dusting his ears.

As Logan drew to a close on his lecture about his the current book he was reading he transferred back to his bed and was organizing his belongings.

"Thank you for listening to me Patton. I usually can't find anyone willing to listen to me talk about my interests."

"Oh of course, to be fully honest I spaced out a little, but a book about an Angel and a Demon falling in love," Patton laid back in his bed, a dreamy look on his face. "what's not to be interested with?"

"What?" Logan looked at his curly haired friend, flabbergasted. "They're best friends, they're not in love."

"Yeah ok." Patton raised his eyebrows and chuckled.

"They aren't." Logan stated.

"Oh, please." Patton sat up, turning to look Logan directly in the eye. "Logan, I have been in and out of this hospital my entire life. I have memorized almost every facial expression there is. I can tell how someone is feeling just by how they walk. I can see past every faked smile and forced laugh. I know what eyes filled with pity or pain look like better than, I dare say, anyone. People's actions portray their feelings more than they know. And from simply all you have told me about Crowley and Aziraphale, I can tell you with complete certainty. They are in love." Patton punctuated the last four words forcefully.

Logan looked at Patton with a small amount of shock. That however, faded quickly. Replaced instead by a content resting face. "Well, I guess it is a possibility." He mumbled.

"It's essentially a fact." Patton once again laid back.

It was quiet for the first time in a while. Though, the silence wasn't awkward as Patton had become used too. Instead, it was an easy silence. Logan, though Patton couldn't see very well, was going over the notes he had made, clearly searching for something to disprove Patton's conjecture. Patton felt a smug smile reach his lips as he closed his eyes. Enjoying the silence. That is until Logan gives a frustrated grunt and slammed his note book shut. Patton sat up, concerned. This wasn't the outcome he had expected.

"Hey, uh, Logan." Patton tentatively began. "Your voice is really nice."

"What?" Logan jerked his head up, his voice breaking a little.

"Your voice. I liked listening to you talk about the book, but your voice is very calming." Patton continued explaining. "You see, my older sibling Talyn has a friend, Virgil, he's read those H. P. Lovecraft books and he loves talking about them. I usually tune it out, which sounds rude but sometimes I just cannot continue hearing him vent about such yucky topics. However, I loved listening to you talk about Good Omens. Though the book itself isn't as gross as Lovecraft I also think your voice is part of the reason why I was so interested."

"Oh, well," Logan took a shaky in take of breath. "Thank you."

Patton smiled as a response and let his head rest on the pillow behind him. The minutes ticked on. It was slow but Patton turned on his TV and the two watched reruns of whatever shows they could find that was somewhat enjoyable. At some point the clock had struck eleven and Nora came back in. Checking both boys vitals before turning off the TV and wishing them a goodnight.

The dark room was once again plunged into silence that neither boy seemed to enjoy. Patton found he could not sleep for the life of him and figured Logan had drifted off at that point. So, when Logan shifted in his bed and spoke Patton jumped just a little.

“Patton, are you still awake?” He whispered.

“No.” Patton admitted. Opening his eyes and allowing them to adjust.

“I cannot seem to rest.” Logan sighed.

“Neither can I.” Patton giggled.

It was quiet for a beat too long.

“I feel I should admit something to you.” Logan whispered, his voice full of hesitation.

“Shoot.” Patton assured his friend.

“Earlier. When I initially awoke from my nap.” Logan began. “You told me my glasses were crooked. I purposely never fixed them correctly.”

It was quiet.

“Wow.” Patton began a soft giggle that grew. “You are a lot more subtle than I am.”

“Oh?”

“Very much so.” Patton continued his giggle. “That was a pretty smooth move there.”

“My friends would have called it desperate.” Logan admitted. Patton pursed his lips.”However, I’m not good with emotions at all. I’m not the best at, well, anything of the sort. I can’t just tell you I think you’re cute now can I?”

“Why not?” Patton asked, completely dodging the fact that this adorable boy had called him cute.

“Well, for one you could be straight.” Logan pointed out.

“Me? I’m as gay as everyone’s first impression of Aziraphale, Logan.” Patton chided.

Logan chuckled. Patton too laughed at his own comment. It was quiet. Though he couldn’t see any colors other than dark grey and black Patton could feel the red on Logan’s ears. Or perhaps that was just Patton’s hope that Logan’s face felt as hot as his did.

"I love sleepovers." He sighed.

"Patton, I don't believe this counts as a sleepover."

"I'm in a nightgown aren't I?" Patton said as though this was an argument.

"It's a hospital gown and attire doesn't really make it a sleepover." Logan countered.

"Truth or dare?" Patton asked, turning on his side toward Logan.

Logan was quiet. Clearly searching Patton's face once again, this time likely for a sign that he was joking. After some time Logan looked away.

"Dare." He sighed.

#logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #logic sanders #morality sanders

36 notes · View notes

ladyplantpots · 5 years

Text

Something I promised to write for @ill-go-with-that-then !

Retirement

Hizashi takes the blindfold off Shouta gently, fingers shaking with nerves, before smiling and stepping backwards.

'Ta.. Ta-da.'

Blinking once, twice, Shouta looks around. He is... Standing in a garden? His fingers loosen around his cane. The remains of the setting sun warm his skin as he takes it all in - he's stood on a tiny cobblestoned path, resting on well-kept grass, surrounded by bright and beautiful plants. A cluster of sunflowers to his right stands proudly by a hand carved wooden bench, just enough room to sit two adults. Hizashi's car waits just at the entrance to the garden, which is surrounded by a simple and sturdy wooden picket fence.

The garden, Shouta quickly notes, must be situated on the very outskirts of the city - there is hardly any noise pollution, and the drive from their city-centre flat had taken a long time, though Shouta did have to wear the blindfold the whole time, so his estimates may be a little wrong. A couple of birds happily sing to one another as a plane lazily flies overhead.

The garden itself quite obviously belongs to the small cottage behind Hizashi. The building is just as impressive as the garden, a warm looking, painted-brick home with two large windows at either side of a simple wooden door. Outside each window sits an array of small potted plants, and Shouta offhandedly notes that they are all sporting colours he's quite fond of.

Hizashi has stayed quiet this entire time, nervously rubbing his hands together as he looks at his feet.

"Are we here to visit someone?" Shouta asks. His voice is soft, confused. Hizashi has been strange for the better part of a month now, ever since Shouta had finally announced his forced retirement to the public. Fifty two wasn't an awful age to retire, he'd supposed. He had certainly done his part, as Hizashi had told him again and again. Hizashi had been waiting on Shouta to retire from hero work, and announced his own retirement one week after Shouta.

Hizashi still does his radio show - after all, he does own one of Japan's most popular stations, and they both drop into UA every now and again to give lectures. But that's it.

In general, Shouta has mainly been working on healing. His leg will never regain full function, and he's coming to terms with that slowly. He has enough wages to comfortably retire with. He's saved an okay amount, nothing crazy, but enough.

Hizashi clears his throat and shakes his head.

"Um. N... No. This..."

Shouta waits patiently, though not without concern. It was perhaps the most nervous he has seen Hizashi, bar the mans' marriage proposal many years ago. Hizashi quickly sucks in a long breath, running his hands through his long hair, which is now a softer yellow than in the prime of his hero days.

"Sho," Hizashi finally says. Shouta smiles. "You... You've been there for me for as long as I can remember. Through every one of my worst days, and every one of my best - when - when I decided to take on three jobs, you supported me even though I know you hated it. When I had to leave Japan for two years, you waited for me. You were right there with me in that first disgusting apartment we ever owned. You sat right by me when I was in a coma. Right there until I woke up. You - God, you've shown me such unconditional love since day one, and every day I wake up next to you, Shouta? It's a blessing."

Shouta furrows his brow, reaching forward and placing his free hand on his husband's cheek.

"You do realise we're already married? You can't really propose again, dear."

Hizashi barks out a watery laugh, before shaking his head.

"Shouta, this... This is the surprise." Hizashi gestures to the garden, and to the cottage. Shouta isn't sure he could be more confused.

"Every paycheck I every got, I put a little bit of it aside," Hizashi continues. "Every late night, every dangerous villain, every marked test - it all contributed to this. To... To our new home. To here."

Shouta tears his eyes away from his husband and looks to the cottage. This quiet, beautiful place away from the hustle and the sirens and the screaming neighbours. Shouta's eyes are wide as he tries to understand, and Hizashi fills the silence.

"I... I've been working on this on and off for years, y'know. Planning with builders and contractors and the odd lawyer or two for the best way to go about this. I never thought just how massive this project would be. And of course, I - fuck, please don't think this was something I would hide from you in a weird, sneaky way! I just - I, I just." Hizashi bites his lip hard.

"I just want you to live your best life, in a home you deserve. No life-threatening hero work. No midnight emergency calls. I want you to wake up safe, warm, and happy. This - every single brick, every single flower, and absolutely every tiny moment of peace - it's here, for you."

Shouta doesn't quite know what to do with himself. So much presented at once - Hizashi had built a home? One that wasn't a dingy cramped flat like they're used to, smashed above and below noisy neighbours? Where did he find the time for this? How?

Hizashi has turned away from Aizawa and walked to the front door. Unlocking it, still obviously very nervous, he manages a grand bow.

"Perhaps look around?"

Shouta walks into the house, his cane clutched tightly. He feels a lump wedge firmly in his throat, and soon, he stands in a living room filled with diminishing sunlight. Nearly every surface is draped in warm and beautiful cloths and throws, a huge plump sofa is sat under the window before a television. His gaze falls on a cat sleeping in a sunbeam on the windowsill - their cat. Ghost, a one-eyed persian they'd had for years. "I brought her here this morning," Hizashi supplied with a chuckle.

Shouta can only blink as he moves to the next room - the kitchen, which Hizashi has elected to paint a citrus green. It's full of fresh food, all Shouta's favourites, and there's even a special shelf for juice packets. A small, sweet dining table sits in the centre of the room, placements set for two, with a single rose placed between them. He stands there in silence, until Hizashi clears his throat behind him.

"You haven't seen the bedroom yet."

Hizashi leads Shouta to a wooden door down a very short hallway from the living room, and waits. He looks incredibly nervous again, and Shouta can feel it coming off him in waves. Straightening himself up, Shouta takes a breath and swings open the door.

His cane thumps on the carpet as he brings his hands to his chest.

Hizashi has managed to model the entire bedroom on the first one they had ever gotten together, just after they had graduated. Shouta feels himself reliving almost 30 years ago - both men had managed to get a flat together, just as they had started dating, and it was awful - an old dingy flat, both men had hated it, until one day Shouta had come home from hero work to find Hizashi had stuck sticker-stars all over their bedroom ceiling, and had bought so many comfy throws and pillows for the bed he could hardly see it. He had even stuck posters of bands they were both into at the time all over the walls to cover the cracks.

Shouta remembers smiling so wide it hurt that night, and as he and Hizashi had curled up together under the stars that had been painstakingly applied to the ceiling, Shouta remembers telling Hizashi it was the most beautiful room he could have hoped to stay in.

Of course, the room Shouta now stands in has no cracks - instead, it has heating and beautifully wallpapered walls, but, all their old music posters are hung up too, torn and faded with time, each preserved in a glass frame, and the double bed is covered in throws and pillows, achingly similar to what Shouta can remember from so long ago - but it's the stars that really hit him. Each star is painstakingly applied, hundreds of them, though rather than stickers, these ones are all painted on.

Shouta doesnt even bother asking if Hizashi did that part all on his own, he knows the answer. And at that moment, he's hit with another memory, just as Shouta steps further into the room. When they had first gotten their gross flat, Hizashi at the time had thought it funny to write on the wall. Just above their bed, a note for Shouta. And sure enough, now Shouta can see familiar black writing over their bed, and he already knows what it says before he even reads it.

'I, Yamada Hizashi, love Aizawa Shouta forever and ever, more than all the stars in the big dumb sky!'

Shouta whips around, eyes wider than he thought possible. Hizashi is just standing there with that dorky look he knows so well, pulling at his hair a little, so utterly nervous it's painful. And they stay like that a moment, just one moment, as the summer evening air drifts through the house and Ghost pads into the room and jumps onto the bed.

And then Shouta crumples to the floor, his face buried in his hands.

"Shouta!" Hizashi darts forward, practically throwing himself down next to his husband and wrapping his arms around him, and for the first time in a very long while, Shouta can feel tears freely fall down his face.

"For me? You did this all, for me?" Hizashi laughs and holds Shouta tighter, brushing his thick dark hair back from his eyes, and of course he’s crying too.

"Without a doubt, Sho. Everything in this home, I did with you in my heart. It's yours."

And there's not even a pause as Shouta corrects Hizashi, his voice thick and full of so much love it could construct an entire universe.

"Ours, ‘Zashi. It's ours."

#erasermic #long post

339 notes · View notes

ficklefics · 5 years

Text

Friends Like These: Chapter Four - Arkham

The day of the trip arrives, but nothing ever goes quite to plan in Arkham Asylum.

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER THREE

Chapter Warnings: Arkham, slight threat

The sound of sirens is comforting, familiar. Despite this, despite being back in Gotham, I am not happy. This is not my home anymore. This is the home of a child, a girl who knew nothing of the world. I am not her. She never knew what people could do. How they could lie, how they could hurt. She found out eventually. It was inevitable I guess. Living in Gotham, no one’s innocence lasts for long. Sometimes I wish that I’d stayed that sweet young girl with stars in her eyes. But that’s in the past. What’s done is done, and I am who I am. All that I can do is move forward.

The tiles of the roof scratch at my hands as I stretch back. My family are asleep in the house, so I am out here. Watching the world go by. After what Selina said I cannot bring myself to go out into the city. I can’t indulge myself. It feels childish, almost selfish now. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am flaunting my status, my security. I guess I am. But not to hurt anyone. It’s for me, and no one else. She doesn’t understand, doesn’t realise, and I’m not about to try and explain it to her. From where I’m sitting I can see Arkham. It stands dark and tall, seeming to emit a strange green glow. I can only imagine the people in there, psychopaths, murderers, cannibals. I remember reading about the breakout a few years ago. It was all over the news, even in New York. Five high profile criminals escaping and wreaking havoc all over the city. If only something like that would happen now; it would be great fun.

The seat of the school bus rumbles beneath me. The journey is anything but smooth, the bus seeming to hit every pothole in the road. There are only ten of us on the bus, plus the teacher and the driver. With all the concerned parents and fearful students, I’m shocked that there’s that many of us. Most parents didn’t want to risk their children going to Arkham for some strange reason. Maybe it was the cost, or the dangerous roads. Or maybe the dangerous psychotic criminals we would be meeting. Yeah, probably that. We were given a uniform outline, even stricter than the normal one; so I am wearing a knee-length skirt and a cardigan over my shirt. Considering the people we are going to meet, I don’t mind. I would rather not end up the target of some psychopath. I glance around at the others on the bus. Everyone seems nervous, even the teacher, but I am strangely calm. It’s a secure, controlled environment. We’ll all be fine. Besides, I doubt the staff will allow us within fifty feet of anyone remotely dangerous. Arkham has had enough bad press as it is; they don’t want any students being horribly traumatised on a school trip. As we drive through the gate the building looms over us ominously, like a beast just waiting for us to enter. We take a breath as one, and slowly begin to leave the bus.

The screaming can be heard as soon as we arrive. It’s awful. Full of pain, anguish, despair. Anger. Even I am apprehensive as we wait silently at the reception. The girl standing next to me is shifting on her feet. She’s nervous. We all are. Now we’re here, the reality has fully hit us. Arkham is a prison, full of fear and danger. Of monsters and murderers. Mr Wilkinson gathers us together, and a women dressed in a simple suit stands in front of us. “Welcome, everyone, to Arkham Asylum. I hope you understand the serious nature of this visit. This is not an “enjoyable” experience. Rather, you are here to learn and enhance your learning to potentially go forward into a career in Psychology. I am Doctor Thomas, one of the therapists here, and I will be taking you on your tour of the Asylum today.” She turns around and, gesturing for us to follow, walks through a door and down a corridor. We move as one. The corridors twist and turn, and we walk up a flight of stairs until we stop outside of a door marked ‘Common Room’. Doctor Thomas turns around and clasps her hands in front of her. “In a moment we will walk past the inmates’ common area. This is where they spend time day to day when not in their cells or doing chores. Here, you will have your first encounter with the criminally insane. This is not something to take lightheartedly. Do not make eye contact or communicate with the prisoners. We will observe for a minute, and then move on. Do you all understand?” We nod and murmur agreement. This is it. The moment we’ve all been waiting for. When we step through that door, everything will change. I wonder if I’ll recognise any of the people in there. I hear the shrill sound of the buzzer indicating the door is unlocked, and we step through into another world.

The prisoners wait only a second after we enter before they begin jeering and shouting at us. We are separated from them by a metal fence, but it feels as though they could pounce on us at any moment. Despite the doctor’s instructions I peer at the fence and the people beyond it out of the corner of my eye. There are only a few women, the room dominated by deranged men who glare at us as if they would tear us apart with one chance. My hands automatically clench into fists, a defense mechanism from late nights and dark alleyways. I’m not afraid, not quite, but I am uncomfortable. I don’t want to let them think I’m scared, so I stand up straight, jaw clenched, and attempt to give off an air of fearlessness. The girl next to me is shaking slightly. Usually I would scoff at her, but instead I gently rest a hand on her arm in an attempt to comfort her. I can understand why you would be afraid just now. The doctor is watching us, gauging our reactions. I hope I have surprised her.

After the common room we are taken to an interview room, and we have the opportunity to ask Doctor Thomas any questions about the asylum, the patients, and the treatments. The questions are fairly typical: How long have you worked here, what’s difficult about it, is it ever scary? And the doctor’s answers are exactly as I expected: Since it reopened, working with people that don’t always cooperate, yes but the guards are well trained. While the others ask their questions I deliberate. Should I stay quiet, or should I shock her? I eventually conclude that I have nothing to lose, and I raise my hand. “Yes?” Doctor Thomas points at me, and I try not to smile. “Do you ever feel sympathetic towards the patients?” Her eyes widen and she opens and closes her mouth a couple of time, grasping for words. “Well, to a certain extent but… Well, they are criminals, despite their mental health issues.” “But surely you have to consider that they have not chosen to be the way they are?” I respond, not giving her the time to move on. “Yes, of course we do.” And on she goes. I can tell she doesn’t have a good answer for me, and I smile smugly to myself.

We are supposed to be returning to the reception, following the doctor through the staff corridors, when a guard jogs up to us. “I’m sorry Doctor, but we’ve had an issue with some of the inmates. The corridor has been closed off further down.” The doctor nods. “Do you need any assistance?” “I think that could help, if you were there they might feel less threatened.” “Of course. If you could take the group to reception through cell block F, I will go and help out.” She smiles and bids us goodbye then swiftly turns around and walks away from us. We follow the guard in the opposite direction.

We are walking past rows of cells, voices bleeding from behind the solid doors. The guard walks in front of us and we hurry behind. No one wants to stay here longer than we have to. Suddenly we hear shouting from ahead, and the guard stops. “Wait here,” he tells us, and before we can protest he continues. “It’s perfectly safe, just don’t talk to anyone.” He then jogs away, leaving us alone. We are silent for a minute until a voice whispers from my left. “Hey kids.” I tense and stay still, watching the others to see if any of them react. When no one looks around, I assume I’m just hearing things. “Rude.” I definitely heard something, and the boy in front of me takes a sharps breath in. Someone is talking to us. I turn my head slowly, trying to find the source of the noise. Almost directly to my left the grate in a door is open, light pouring out. We all look at each other, wondering if anyone will dare answer. Realising no one else will do anything, I take a small step forward. “What do you want?” The group takes a breath in as one as we wait for an answer. “Just a bit of fun,” The voice responds, and I can tell it’s a man. Part of me recognises it, but I don’t know where from. “Not often we get outsiders here, and no one ever talks to us.” “Won’t be for long,” I say. I can’t see him, but I’m intrigued. “We’re going soon.” “I doubt it. The guards will probably forget about you and leave you here with us crazies.” He lets out a rasping laugh, and I begin to suspect. “Very funny.” Part of me wants the guard to come back, just to give me an excuse to leave. But a different part wants to keep talking. Suddenly a face appears at the window, and I take a sharp breath. Jerome Valeska. His face is scarred, the skin pulled back tight, but it’s clearly him. I remember reading about him, everything he did after killing his mother. “Aw, you scared?” He grins, his mouth stretching unnaturally wide. “No, just wasn’t expecting you to be quite so deformed.” I snap back, not wanting him to see me as a victim. “I’m hurt!” He feigns being upset and I roll my eyes. All at once he narrows his eyes and leans forward, getting as close to me as he can. “Hey, do I know you?” “No,” there’s a tremor in my voice, and I’m not sure whether it’s from fear or anticipation. “We’ve never met.” “I guess not,” He moves back slightly, and I relax slightly. “I’m sure I would remember a face like yours.” I hear footsteps and move away from the door as the guard approaches. I give one last glance to Jerome, who grins and whispers something just to me before disappearing into his cell. I can feel the eyes of the group on me, but I ignore them and instead follow the guard as he leads us to the reception, and to freedom.

Slamming the front door shut, I lock it behind me before heading upstairs. I take off my cardigan and perch on the bench next to my window, looking out into the garden. Seeing Jerome at Arkham has shaken me. I wasn’t prepared for it, for him to speak to us. I can’t believe I talked to him like I did. I know Arkham’s secure, but in the back of my mind I wonder what would happen if he escaped again. Who he would go for. Bruce probably, he seems obsessed with him. But what he whispered is sticking with me, and I can’t stop thinking about it and what it could mean.

“See you later doll.”

CHAPTER FIVE

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

#flt #friends like these #Jerome valeska #Jerome valeska/Harleen quinzel #Jerome valeska/oc #Jerome valeska fanfic #Jerome valeska fanfiction #Harleen quinzel #gotham fanfiction #gotham #gotham fanfic #arkham #arkham asylum #oc

18 notes · View notes

izzy-b-hands · 4 years

Text

Fictober 2019, Oct. 31st, “Scared, Me?”

Fanfiction

Fandom: Queen (band)

Pairings: None

Rating: T or maybe M due to the threat of violence and general frightening nature of the situation in this fic??

Warnings: mentions of violent death, and general danger from an intruder. Some swearing, um.... think that’s the worst of it tbh. This one ended up a lot tamer than it could have been re: spooky scary stuff.

1,623 words

I’ve really wanted to write a fic about Duckingham Palace, but I wanted this one to be scary, since it is being posted on Halloween. This fic let me get both of those things in.

“Scared, me? Not at all!” his voice echoed through the dark and silent house.

“I think we should be, maybe,” Roger whispered from the nearby closet, where he was huddled with Brian and John.

“All this supposed intruder has done so far is turned out the lights. We’ve navigated this house drunker than a skunk with the lights out. This isn’t an obstacle,” Freddie replied, picking up his coffee cup from the end table near the couch he was sat on.

“Freddie, I’ve tried calling the security desk, and they aren’t answering. Please, get in here until I can get them to respond,” Brian added, the poof of his curls the only thing visible from where he was crouched at the back of the closet.

“This is all very silly; we’re going to be fine. Come out of there!” Freddie scolded playfully. “Besides, you know what all of us in there at once means?”

“That this closet is too small for all of us?” John asked, peeking out around Roger.

“That this supposed scary killer or whoever you’re all so terribly afraid of can easily kill all of us at once,” Freddie continued. “Apart, one of us might just survive to write an album about the experience.”

“That isn’t funny,” Brian replied. “Get in here; I can hear footsteps!”

“Poor thing, look what years of rock music have done to your ears. Hearing things now!” Freddie sighed.

Roger pushed the other two back further into the closet as he dove back in, while a dark figure crept into the room.

Freddie turned his head, eyes straining to see in the dark. “Oh, what is this shit?”

The figure stopped creeping and stood up straight, turning it’s mask-covered face to look at Freddie. “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me. With a black robe and the stalking about. What the fuck is that?”

“I-I’m the terror...”

“You’re shit,” Freddie scoffed. “Come on out and see what you’re all so afraid of! Say hello!”

“No! Stay put! Fear me!” the figure commanded.

“...no, I don’t think we will,” Roger said, leading the way out of the closet.

“Yeah. Nice try, but...well, seeing you in person...no,” John said, shaking his head as he joined Freddie on the couch.

“I could kill you all!” the figure shouted as it pulled out a knife from some pocket of its robe.

Freddie set down his cup, sighed, and walked up to the figure. “With just the one knife?”

The figure looked down at the knife. “Y...yeah?”

Freddie smirked. “You’re killing Queen, or trying to, right? I should hope you’d know that we go out in style, not all with the same filthy knife.”

The rest of the guys giggled as they settled into their chosen seats, any panic evaporated. Freddie was in full performance mode now, and the intruder hardly stood a chance if just this bit was shaking him.

“You...you can’t make demands when you’re about to be murdered!” the intruder stamped his foot.

“Fuck off,” Freddie laughed and went back to the couch, dropping back beside John as if it were any other night in Duckingham Palace.

The intruder stood, staring as they all got properly comfortable, as if nothing had happened, the lights were still on, and all was normal.

“You may as well sit down and take off that mask. Make it easier for the guards when they get here,” Freddie said. “Brian, have they answered?”

Brian was back at the nearest telephone, and dialed the number yet again, but shook his head after a moment. “Still not picking up.”

“The line isn’t dead, they are,” the intruder spat. “How else do you think I got this far, this close to you? Don’t you get it yet, you spoiled fucking rock-”

The punch Freddie threw, up from the couch and in front of the intruder in the blink of an eye, in a boxing stance like it was second nature, laid the intruder out flat on the carpet.

“Haven’t done that in awhile,” Freddie mused as he dropped back to the couch. “Brian, call the police, will you?”

“Already done,” Brian replied, looking slightly pale at the sight of the splayed out intruder. “Should we check on him? Roger, you go do it.”

“Why me? I’m not any better equipped to do that than you, you go do it!” Roger protested.

“Well...you were going to be a dentist!” Brian protested right back. “That’s the closest to a doctor we’ve got right now!”

“Ah yes, and we all recall the many dentists that populate and care for emergent patients in every emergency room around the world. No actual doctors, because ‘a dentist is close enough’!”

“Stop arguing, and just look! I mean, I don’t exactly want him up and raring to kill us, but if he’s hurt-” Brian insisted.

“I’m just gonna go see about getting the lights back on,” John interjected quickly, moving from the couch and around the body in search of the circuit breaker panel.

“You are technically Dr. Brian May, or will be once you’ve got your studies done! You look at him!” Roger shouted.

“I will be a doctor of space-related things, like space dust and cosmic bodies, not the human body!” Brian shouted right back.

“You really ought to just get up,” Freddie said to the body, which had been occasionally twitching with the apparent effort of trying to pretend to be knocked out.

The intruder stayed silent, and kicked a leg out at him.

“That’s just childish,” Freddie chided.

“This was my claim-” the intruder started.

“Claim to what?” Freddie interrupted. “Claim to sick and twisted fame? All you’ve done is hurt people, good people. How will the families of those guards feel, what horrible pain. All because of you.”

“I-”

“How dare you even deign to try and be proud of or defend what you did and tried to do here. You deserve whatever pain comes your way as a result of your actions here,” Freddie said coldly. “And the universe will see to it, I’m sure. You disgust me.”

Brian and Roger had stopped arguing, listening and watching as Freddie glared down at the intruder.

“I...I’m so-” the intruder was difficult to hear, so quiet and broken his voice was now.

“Don’t even dare. An apology does nothing, means nothing. Not to me, and not to our dead security guards and their families,” Freddie interrupted brusquely. “Better you had found that conscience and caring long before you killed anyone, but fat lot of good it does for anyone now.”

The intruder sat up and stared at the floor, his knife forgotten where it had fallen. “That punch hurt really badly, you know.”

Brian and Roger shared a glance. Of all the stupid shit to say...

“I’m not a man for violence, but you say one more fucking word and I won’t hesitate to lay you out again. You think that first punch hurt? I wasn’t even putting any effort into it,” Freddie said, terrifyingly calm as he sipped at his cold coffee, staring the intruder down as if he might just use his gaze to destroy the man.

The lights blinked back on, and John returned just as sirens started to near.

It was all waiting and watching then as police and procedure took over. The intruder was silent the entire time, even as they gave their statements, only nodding or shaking his head in response to any questions from the officers. Finally, he was taken out of the house and away to a waiting police car.

The officers assured them the house was clear and safe, and that a few officers would remain on watch on the property so they could go to sleep without worry.

But none of them moved from the living room.

“Thank god the family and friends hadn’t joined us out here yet,” John finally said, breaking the silence that had enveloped them once the police had all gone.

Brian nodded. “Never been so glad the family is back at home.”

“Still can’t believe you wanted me to check him over,” Roger scoffed softly, no venom or ill-intent in his voice.

“You know I would have helped you,” Brian replied. “And we only would have had to check him if he wasn’t getting up, and in the moment it seemed Freddie had really done him in...”

“I know,” Roger said, and the silence fell over them again.

“It’s funny, in a terrible way,�� Freddie broke the silence softly. “Whole thing has me too damn nervous to sleep now.”

The resulting gentle laughter was a relief to them all, as much as the pack of cigarettes that was opened and passed around with shaking hands from all.

“Only nervous now that the killer’s gone?” Roger smiled weakly. “Bloody hell, Freddie.”

“That was a hell of a hit you gave him,” Brian laughed. “Dropped like a stone, my god.”

“Stop,” Freddie shushed them with a wave of his hand.

“No, it was amazing! I mean, you said you weren’t really thinking about it, weren’t putting effort into it, but he went down! I can’t imagine if you’d been really trying to put him down,” Brian said. “And even after, keeping him down with words!”

Roger nodded. “Artfully done.”

John sighed. “Suppose we may as well stay up a bit longer, out here together. I mean, if we can’t sleep, maybe we can work.”

No more was said of sleep after that, the adrenaline of the night’s events still lingering. It didn’t matter if any of the resulting songs from the late-night session would be good, or right for the album. It was simply enough to be awake and in the safety of one another’s company.

#text post #LeeH writes #queen band fic #fictober19

4 notes · View notes

averyonelovesjack · 6 years

Text

protect ~ zach herron

requested: yes

This is going to sound morbid but the reader is in a car with the boys on the way to the mall. The reader is dating Zach and on the way to the mall, a semi hits the car but Zach catches it in time to shield the reader and them he and maybe another boy or two go into a coma while the others just have some big cuts or something. The reader is the on!y one uninjured because of Zach. You can play around with it, I have just had this idea for a while but am uncreative and can't write. Thanks

summary: (y/n) goes through the aftermath of the car with her & the boys inside of it being hit by a truck, leaving her the only one of seven unscathed

warning(s): car accident, cursing

word count: 1886

author’s note: ok so @maggie-the-book-nerd i know you’ve been thinking about this for a while so i hope that it’s what you expect. it took me a while to get out there, i know, but i tried my best to write what you’ve asked of me. honestly, i think that you should start writing! if you’re creative enough to have this amazing idea, then you are creative enough to write. i’ve been writing for a couple years now, but this account is my first time publishing. i read so many different stories to help me develop a style of writing and i think that you could be a really great writer! idk i just hope you take that into consideration, because this was a really great idea:)) and also i’m very morbid too lol

The sounds of sirens filled my ears as I dared not open my eyes. Sounds of screaming, whining, and flames filed into my ears and i couldn’t help but cry out, trying to figure out what was going on. my brain scrambled through the anxiety attack that was bound to happen as i struggled to determine what had just happened.

i laughed and climbed into the backseat of the large car that daniel had purchased. jonah had already claimed shotgun, so i was now stuck in the middle seat of the car (due to my height being the shortest) as Zach sat to the left of me and jack sat to the right of me. corbyn and christina had claimed the back seats, probably because they wanted to sleep. christina had just flown in from in new york and corbyn just really liked sleeping.

“where are we going first, babe?” zach turned to face me as he questioned the first stop on our outing to the mall. it was originally supposed to be just christina and i, since we never get alone time together, but this was a perfect example of that. the boys caught wind and after both zach and corbyn decided to come, the other social-lifeless boys decided to come along and that’s how we ended up like this.

“forever 21, of course” i tell him and he laughs, “i’ve been looking for a skirt. like a jean skirt or something and they’ve got cute ones”

“you’d look so good in one of those!” christina gushed, “you totally should get one”

“it’s just a skirt” corbyn commented, “i can’t believe you guys actually have wish lists when you go shopping. like you could seriously have a list that long”

“ok well it’s different because we go in for a few things, but then there are a million other cute things in the store and if they’re on sale, it’s even better” Christina explained to him and I laughed.

“girls are complicated”

“whatever” i kissed the rosy cheek of my boyfriend who smiled and then pecked my lips.

“could someone please remove me from love birds over here?” jack faked a disgusted expression.

“get yourself a girlfriend and you wouldn’t feel that way” i played with my best friend.

“oh shut up, (y/n)” he stuck his tongue out at me, “it’s not as easy as you think”

“it was pretty easy for me” i shrug, interlocking hands with my beautiful boyfriend of nearly eight months now.

“that’s because you had me to introduce you!” jack reminded me and i giggle.

i shook my head, “yeah, yeah. whatever”

the rest of the idiots in the car laughed at our conversation and i looked up at zach with a wide smile. suddenly, i felt two arms pushing me out and towards jack as a screeching sound came loudly, making my arms tingle and my hairs stick up. a loud crashing sound was heard and my eyes instinctively closed.

i was still in shock as i blocked out the sounds of the crowded emergency room waiting room. there were kids screaming, people crying, doctors talking, and other sounds that i really didn’t need to hear as i panicked about what had happened.

the most toxic thing was that i was the only one left uninjured after what had just happened. jonah had very obviously broken his arm due to force from the large, red and white semi that had slammed directly into the driver’s side of the car. corbyn and christina had whiplash, and bruises from when they were forced forward and their seatbelts put too much pressure against them. jack had a large cut on his face that was due to a piece of metal from the semi breaking apart at contact and flying towards his face.

but the worst of the accident had to have happened to daniel and zach. being on the driver’s side of the car, daniel had been hit directly by the semi coming towards him and was forced into an airbag. they’d told me that he had internal bleeding that they were correcting at the moment and that he’d most likely suffer from a concussion from the airbag.

and zach. oh zach. he’d flown in front of me in attempt to protect me from the impact (which he’d done successfully). the way that the semi his the truck had led to the loosening of zach’s seatbelt. his face was cut up and his body was suffering. he had taken the brunt of it and with the damage done to him, the doctors had decided that the best way for him to heal was a medically induced coma. so before i could even say hello or goodbye to my injured boyfriend, they injected medication and sent him into a temporary sleeping state.

my eyes flickered as i sat down in a chair next to jack. he squeezed my hand firmly and winced in pain as the doctor carefully sewed him up, doing his best to prevent any scarring. i looked up and gave him a sad smile, trying to help him through the pain. the doctor was at the end of the cut and finished up, leaving the small little curtained off area that jack and i sat in.

“have you seen jonah yet?” jack asked me, “corbyn and christina are together”

i shook my head, “it was pretty obvious that he’d broken his arm”

“poor guy” he said and then squeezed my hand and forcing me to look up at him “hey, everything’s going to be ok”

“how come i’m the only one who’s not injured in some way?” i ask, “why did zach have to risk his life so that i didn’t get hurt? why couldn’t he just have protected himself?”

“don’t feel guilty, (y/n). you got yourself the best boyfriend, don’t give it up” Jack explained to me.

“had he not been trying to protect me, zach wouldn’t be so badly injured” i tell him, “he could freaking die and it’d be my fault”

“(y/n) tell me what the doctors told you” Jack quickly asked of me.

“zach was injured and he’s in a medically induced coma”

“ok, you’re smart, tell me what a medically induced coma is”

“it’s when a doctor decides that a person would better heal when the brain is resting” i explain what i’d learned in my two years as a biomedical student at my high school.

“and what part of that means dying?”

“it’s a coma, jack” i told him.

“medically induced” he stated again, “which means that the doctors are letting his brain heal on his own until the swelling goes down and he can heal without being unconscious. they’ll reverse with time, (y/n). don’t blame yourself unless you told someone to hit our car with a fucking truck because look at daniel. he did nothing to save anyone and he’s in terrible condition too. now, please go check on jonah and go see your boyfriend”

i gave jack a small smile and a tight hug as I left the curtained off room. I searched through the hallway until I saw Jonah inside a small bed area, with his curtain open. His arm was three times its size, wrapped in an extreme amount of bandaging.

“how’re you doing?” i frown at the tall boy and sit down on the chair next to his bed.

“i’ve been better” he told me, “but they just gave me some pain meds that feel really great”

“morphine” i laughed a little bit, “i’m glad that you’re in a little bit less pain. jack just got his stitches done”

“is he gonna be left with a nasty scar?” jonah questions.

“no, probably not” i answered and he groaned.

“that was the one thing i was hoping for” he told me, which i shouldn’t have laughed at but it was funny.

“what’d the doctors say about your arm?” i look at the bandaged arm.

“pretty bad fracture. not a complete break, though, so i don’t need surgery. just a cast for a couple months” he informed me and i nodded, “and that’s probably not even the worst injury caused by this accident”

I sniffled as the nurse let me into the small hospital room. the look of my boyfriend’s mouth stuffed with a large tube that helped his lungs breath nearly made me crawl up in a ball on the floor and start sobbing. let alone the gashes and cuts that crawled his arms, and the bruises left on his forehead. his normally perfect hair flopped over, messy from the events of the day and i knew that he wouldn’t approve. i stopped in front of him as the nurse stood at the door to be sure that nothing happened to either of us.

my breath hitched as i looked over to her to gain permission, “c-c-can i to-touch him?”

she nodded her head as my hand slipped into his cold one, which truly broke me. i felt a tear slip down my face as i rubbed my thumb over his gently. i let another fall directly onto his hand and cried a little bit harder as i rubbed the wet mark off of his skin, the spot evaporating quickly.

the nurse stepped a little bit further into the room and spoke up, “You can speak to him, if you’d like. Studies have shown that it is therapeutic for loved ones to talk to their injured family members, and there are some studies that show that patients can hear when you talk to them and it’s helped in the healing process. I can give you some privacy if you’d like”

i nodded my head, “that’d be great”

she nodded her head and left the room. the emptiness of the plain white room broke my heart all over again. zach had to lay here for god-only-knows-how-long and no one could do anything about it.

i moved closer to zach, looking at him carefully, my voice slow and crackly at first, “i-it’s me, zach. (y/n). I just- - i want you to know how much you mean to me. I love you with all my heart. thank you for everything you’ve done for me. especially for today”

i spoke again after a minute, “i promise that i’ll come here every day, zachy. the boys and i-- we’ll come see you everyday while you’re healing. everyone’s ok. we’re all ok, so now we need you to be ok”

another tear slipped down my face as i continued on, “because you and i-- zach, we’ve got a future together and i need you to be ok so that we can have that. i want to go to prom with you zach. i want to go to your first arena show and i want to watch your album win awards and hit number one. i want to marry you zach, so i need you to be ok. i need you, zach”

i cried harder with the words that left my mouth. maybe he won’t wake up today, i know that. but maybe eventually, when i tell him enough and when he’s healthy enough, he’ll come back to me.

he will. i know it. zach is not leaving me.

#zach herron #jack avery #jonah marais #daniel seavey #corbyn besson #zach herron imagine #why don't we #wdw #fanfic #imagine #beautychickee

175 notes · View notes

luci-is-a-devil- · 7 years

Text

Vampire!Joshua

Notes: thank you for the request! I think Joshua and jun are the more difficult ones for me to write… I hope it came out well! Thanks for the request nonnie! Requests are open!!!

tw: guns and slight violence

•when you were little, you remember having to go to the doctor a lot so they could take the blood •you had an excess amount of it, also being type AB, meant that you could give to anyone •so your blood was greatly appreciated and sure that was nice knowing that you were saving lives, but you were terrified of needles •your friend, seungkwan told you that if the needle was dirty it could get you sick, and you would die •even though the next day when you told your other friend Vernon who had been absent, he told you that was wrong, that doctors needles were sterilized, his mom said so •nonetheless you weren’t fond of them •at all •you just wouldn’t look at the needle, or at the doctor •you’d insist on wearing a face mask, and short sleeved shirts •because that would air the wound out??? •kids are weird man • •even into your early twenties, you didn’t like needles •two time a month, you’d go get blood taken, maybe more if you had more than usual •you had decided since you were little to become a nurse, since you spent a lot of time there anyway •studying was difficult, but you were the top of you class and became an intern at an amazing hospital •now began crazy hours, rude patients, and barely eating •and being surrounded by needles •Fun •but the best part of the job, was most definitely the boy who worked in the cafe that was inside the hospital •Hong Joshua, aka the best hot chocolate maker in the cafe •coffee was bad for you, but it kept you awake, something that you needed but you refused •so hot chocolate and other sweets to keep you up and running •wary in the morning you’d get your beverage, chat with the brunette who spoke softly with a cat like smile •today’s topic so happened to be mythical creatures •"I think it would be cool if mermaids existed, but then sirens would too. Cool but slightly terrifying.“ •you said taking a sip of your hot chocolate as you spoke •Joshua was wiping down tables as you sat on a stool by the counter •"I think werewolves could be cool, or fairies.” •Joshua said, spraying the table with a cleaner and scrubbing a tough stain •"team Edward or team Jacob?“ •you asked jokingly, not expecting an actual answer, since the two of you had talked about your dislike towards the franchise •"…Jacob. Edward doesn’t do vampires justice.” •Joshua said, walking behind the counter, walking into the back, he put away the supplies •"you say that you like you’ve met one, josh.“ •you said laughing, taking the last sip of your now warm hot chocolate •"yeah… I mean they sound cool?” •he said awkwardly, adding a nervous laugh at the end •sending him an odd look, you jumped off your stool, waving goodbye to him •you began to walk home, to sleep for a few hours before returning to the hospital •your apartment was tiny, the living room and kitchen wasn’t separated by a door, the bathroom didn’t have a bathtub •it was just the bare essentials, after all you were only an intern •laying on the couch, you fell asleep, not even bothering to change • •you could function of five hours of sleep, but you needed a shower • badly •so you went and showered, scrubbing your skin with a orange blossom body soap •rinsing it off after you felt clean enough, you put soap in your hair •then rinsed that off and turned off the water, hopping out of the shower •getting dressed back in scrubs wasn’t the most fashionable but what could you do •so grabbing a small apple, and leftovers that you could heat up in the microwave at the hospital •you left your small apartment, and walked back to the hospital, where you came from seven hours ago •sighing, you shook your head •your converse padded on the cement, a rhythm coming as you walked •humming along with the padding of your feet, you enjoyed the walk to the hospital •looking at the huge building before you entered •as you walked through the hospital, you got a text from your boss •boss: hey kid, sorry I actually don’t need you to come in tonight •groaning at the text but simultaneously being happy that you didn’t have to work tonight, you texted back •y/n: okay, thank you for letting me know •deciding to get your cup of hot chocolate and have a chat with Joshua, since you wouldn’t be here tonight •walking into the small cafe, you expected the boy to be at the counter or to be playing the guitar at a table since it was a slow shift •what you didn’t expect was Joshua sitting at a table, drinking out of a blood bag •"please tell me that you’re drinking tomato soup out of that.“ •you asked, startling the boy who had zoned out •"yep! Haha, I just really like messing with people! Yep!” •He said awkwardly, nervously laughing in the middle of his sentence •sitting down at the table he was at, you raised an eyebrow and waited for him to explain •"I’m a vampire, but I don’t like drinking blood from people because it hurts them. So I have to drink these?“ •he mumbled, not looking at the you, his eyes drawn on the table •"is that why you said Edward was a bad representation of vampires?” •you asked after it was silent for a while, you could see the tension in Joshua’s shoulders as he nodded, saying that not all vampires are creepy old man who stay in high School •staying and chatting with him was still the same, now there was just some extra characteristics that he had •if it was just you two hanging out, he would let his fangs out, drink blood packs •but of course, you’re a little curious piece of shit •on late nights you’d wonder what it would feel like if Joshua sunk his fangs into your skin •or just remembering the boy with eye smiles for days, with a cute smile and beautiful hands •you were a little bit in love •but who could blame you, everyone was probably in love with Joshua •the boy could sing and have birds land on his finger and sing along with him •but it was just an unrequited crush, after all you guys were just friends • •evening hot chocolate with Joshua, working until three am, leaving with a wave towards the cafe was routine •the streets were always cold, lined with light posts, the artificial light was the only warmth you felt •your phone was in your hands, a promise that you had to make with Joshua so he wouldn’t be worried •he was number one in speed dial, but you had done this walk hundred of times •nothing should happen, right? •you could feel it in your gut that someone was watching you •quick steps were made into a sprint, wanting to get away from the unwanted gaze of a stranger who’s intentions were unknown •reaching the front of your apartment, you slowed down •maybe you were overreacting, no one was probably watching you •you just needed more sleep, or no more horror movies late at night •but a small step forward would leave your fear come true •"Don’t move and I won’t shoot.“ •a cold voice spoke, a male holding a gun said •pressing number one, you called Joshua and put him on mute, wanting to come out alive •"give me your wallet, give me your whole bag actually.” •doing as he said, you slid the bag to him, after all a cheap bag was nothing compared to your life •and you still had your phone •"Now I want your phone, I know it’s in your hands, so don’t do any funny stuff.“ •you spoke to soon, hesitating on giving him the phone, he cocked the gun, letting you know he wasn’t playing •sliding it the same way as you did with the bag, he picked it up, seeing that he was being heard, he started to yell •"you fucking bitch, wanna die?” •you wanted to ask if that was a rhetorical question, but you’d never get that chance •a bullet entered your chest, another in your leg •falling on the floor, you were left hearing his footsteps as he ran away •blankly thinking about how you’d never be able to see Joshua again, after all this was it •years of being afraid of needles didn’t prepare you for other deadly weapons •before your eyes fluttered shut, you could’ve sworn that you caught a glimpse of Joshua running toward you •his brown hair looking like he had run his hands through it, his lip had been chewed on •weakly smiling, you felt like you were floating •your last conscious thought wondering if Joshua was an angel in disguise, no one could be that beautiful • • •the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Joshua •his eyes weren’t their usual chocolate brown, instead being a dark green •his fangs were out, but what startled you more was his hand being on yours •"y/n.“ •his breathed out, and If you could only hear him say your name, you’d be okay •"Joshua” •you spoke, your throat itching as you whispered his name •the relief on his face made you want to pull him close and kiss him •sitting up, you groaned, your chest hurt, your neck hurt •bringing your fingers to your neck, you felt two small holes, equal amount to Joshua’s fangs •"josh? What happened?“ •you questioned, immediately his eyes avoided yours and you were reminded of that day many months ago •his hand was still on yours, squeezing it softly, trying to reassure him •"when you called me, I was on my way home, so when I heard what was happening, I rushed to your house, only to find you…on the floor but…” •he trailed off, tears filled his eyes, and this time you do what you wanted •slipping of the bed, you crouched on the floor, ignoring the ache in your leg •both of his hands in yours, you looked into his eyes •"I know, it’s okay.“ •you spoke, not needing to know the rest of the story, with the fang shaped holes in you neck, you could guess what happened •a sob racked his body, as you comforted him to the best of your aching body •when they was no more tears to be cried, both of you were on a bed •(which you later found out was his) •"hey Joshua?” •you spoke softly, pulling Joshua closer into your chest as you cuddled •"yeah y/n?“ •his voice was mumbled and kind of hiccupy •"I like you.” •you were already kind of dead, what was the worse that could happen? •"I like you too.“ •everything felt right, lying in a bed with Joshua, as he listened to where your heartbeat should be beating •you’d have forever to help ease the pain from him having to turn you • •"DoEs tHiS meAN tHaT I caN’t dRinK hOt ChOcolAte AnYmOrE???” •"I love you y/n?“ •"I live you too but NO HOT CHOCOLATE JOSHUA???” •you’d get used to it eventually •right???

#Seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen scenarios #kpop au #kpop scenarios #koreabooeauty #Joshua Hong #vampires #hospital #cafes #intern

179 notes · View notes

neverending2012 · 6 years

Text

My Journey To You Chapter 27

SUMMARY: Mercedes experiences a racist incident and must confront her fear before it takes a toll on her family. The Hummels come for Christmas.

RATING: Mature

WARNING: Racist situation and language, mild violence, cursing, and sexual situations

CHAPTER 27

LOVE THY NEIGHBOR

Mercedes zipped up Rosy's bright red parka and put on her hood. Jake stood next to his sister, holding her hand, and patiently waiting. He was already bundled up in his blue parka. Mercedes kissed their cheeks.

"I know both of you will be good at the supermarket, and no pulling things off the shelves."

Jake and Rosy looked at each other and then back at Mercedes.

"I'll be good," Rosy said.

Jake nodded.

"Me too."

Mercedes put on her coat and scarf, peeking out the window, she sighed. It was a cold, gray Tuesday morning. The trees were barren with a thick coat of frost covering the branches. She got the car keys from off of the key rack near the front door and they left the house. On their way to the store, Rosy and Jake sang along to the Moana soundtrack. Since traffic was light, they arrived in no time at all, and she was grateful to find a parking space close to the entrance. She braced herself against the harsh, frigid wind blowing in their faces as they walked the short distance to the store. Out front was a jolly red-cheeked man dressed as Santa Claus, ringing a silver bell, while standing next to a scarlet red Salvation Army kettle that hung from a tripod. Upon closer inspection, Mercedes realized it was Mr. Kramer, the owner of the local hardware store, he always gave Sam discounts because he was such a loyal customer, she forgot that he said he was working with the Salvation Army this year. He always doted on Rosy and Jake and she wondered if they would recognize him as she dropped a few dollars into the kettle.

"Hello Mr. Kramer," Jake and Rosy said.

Mr. Kramer shook his head.

"Ho, Ho, Ho, no it's Santa Claus, I came all the way from the North Pole."

Rosy and Jake looked at him and laughed.

"Mr. Kramer, you look funny!" Jake said peering up at him, his black hair falling into his eyes.

"Ho, ho, ho," he said, "Have you both been good?"

The twins giggled and Rosy patted his beard.

"Soft," she said.

He winked at her before releasing them from the hug.

Mercedes wished him a Merry Christmas and he gave each child a candy cane.

Once inside, the wonderful aroma of baking bread greeted them and the heat warmed their hands and faces. A holiday display of gingerbread house kits was right in front of them on a table decorated with sprigs of holly and fake cotton snow sprinkled with glitter. Rosy let go of Jake's hand and rushed up to the table and she reached for one of the boxes. Mercedes shook her head.

"Rose Emerald Hummel what do you think you're doing?"

Rosy stepped back.

"Sorry."

"Remember what we talked about?"

Rosy nodded. Mercedes put her hand on her hip.

"Come back here right now."

Rosy shuffled over to Mercedes and Jake.

"I know you're a good little girl so behave, ok?"

"Ok, Mommy."

Mercedes hugged her.

"Come on, we've got shopping to do."

Rosy smiled and the scolding was over.

Mercedes got the twins situated in the grocery cart, and headed toward the produce section. The store was practically empty. The white tiled floors shined beneath the fluorescent lights and Frosty the Snowman played over the sound system.

She got a few heads of lettuce and bags of baby spinach, then she moved over to the onions where a young, clean cut man, with buzz cut brown hair, wearing round frame glasses, a marble blue sweater and black dress pants was putting a few yellow onions into a plastic bag. She smelled his citrus cologne as she surveyed the red onions trying to decide if she should get them or not. She saw a flash of his gold watch as he picked up another onion. The man stared at her. His blue eyes were cold. Mercedes ignored his rude staring and continued perusing the onions. Jake pointed to the red onions.

"Red," he said, proud that he knew the color.

"No, blue," Rosy said.

"Actually they're purple, but we call them red for some reason," Mercedes said and pulled a plastic bag from the dispenser overhead and began to gather up onions and put them in the bag.

"We can put these in our salad. Your father will like that." she said, keeping up the chatter. She decided to be nice and smiled at the man, but he only glared at her, so she looked away and continued the task, her elbow bumped into his, while she tied up her plastic bag.

"Sorry," she said.

"Couldn't you have waited until I was done?" he said.

Before she could respond, the man said:

"I bet you're used to everybody helping you and your kids. How many baby daddies do you have?"

"Excuse me? How dare you - "

"Oh, don't act so surprised. Somebody needs to put you people in your place. Turning my country into – "

"Your country?"

"Yes, my country. I'm sick of it. But I'm not hiding any more; you can't come into this town and think you're first for everything. You need to know your place. Your kids aren't even the same race. You opened your fat legs for every man coming your way, so you can get that government check and when working class whites have to -"

"You will not speak to me like -

"I'll speak to you any damn way I please. Get out of this town and get out of my country. It belongs to us. Real, working white Americans, not some monkey leeches who scream in the streets every time one your bastard sons gets shot. Hollering about how your lives matter. Fuck you! Our brothers in blue put their lives on the line to protect your worthless asses and what do you do to repay them? Rob a liquor store and get shot."

His voice drowned out everything around them, he was a demon unleashed. Rosy and Jake began to cry. She had to get away from him. The funny thing about it was, he looked like the All American respectable, tax-paying citizen, right down to his spit-shined loafers, but the vitriol coming from his thin-lipped mouth proved otherwise.

"Get away from us or I'm calling the cops!" she said rushing away from him, pushing the cart as fast as she could, but the racist man wasn't finished with this tirade.

"You mean the same cops that shoot niggers? No, you cunt, you're not running away from me," he said walking behind her, "You're going to listen to every word I say."

She kept going. His cologne stung her nostrils. Then he grabbed her arm.

"Don't touch me!" She said pulling away from him as he gripped her arm, not letting go.

"You're not going anywhere you black bitch!"

Suddenly, the store manager, Roy, who was built like a pro-wrestler and Clarence the security guard, a heavy set man with long black hair and huge biceps bursting through his navy blue uniform, ran up to them.

Clarence grabbed the man who took a knife out of his pocket and stabbed his arm. He screamed out in pain but he overpowered the man and wrestled him to the floor, while Roy took away his knife, Clarence sat on top of the crazy man, crushing his skinny body.

In the mayhem, Mercedes picked up both Rosy and Jake and runaway.

"I know my rights!" The man screamed, as he struggled beneath Clarence.

"Mrs. Hummel! We've called the police" Roy called out to her, but she kept running.

The man was enraged.

"She's infringing on my rights as an American, I – "

"Shut the hell up!" Roy yelled. "You racist piece of shit. Mrs. Hummel and her family come here all the time and their lovely people. You will not harm her or her family. What kind of man are you? Screaming at a mother and her children!"

"You think this is over? Do you? We're rising up against them. Taking back what's ours." The man said.

Mercedes ran outside to the parking lot rushing past Mr. Kramer who called out to her, but she ignored him and and got in their SUV. She didn't even bother putting the twins in their car seats. She sat with them in her arms and locked the door. They clung to her crying on her shoulders. She was too shaken to drive. Police sirens wailed in the distance and soon two cop cars pulled up to the supermarket. The officers ran inside the store. Mercedes called Sam. He was only a few blocks away at the paint store and he made it to the supermarket in record time. He parked his truck next to her, got out and she opened the door for him, and as soon as he saw her tear stained face and the twins shaking in her arms, he gathered them in his arms and hugged them close but he boiled with anger.

"Where is the motherfucker?" he asked, his voice low in her ear.

"He's inside I guess. I don't know. Sam please I – "

Sam continued holding them, whispering how much he loved them and how everything would be ok. The police came over to the SUV to get a statement from Mercedes. Sam was furious and wanted to know who the guy was so he could kill him.

"Sir, we'll have to ask you to calm down," one of the officers said, he looked too young to be a cop, but he had a muscular build and an authoritative air about him. His partner was a tall black woman, with a lanky frame, and big, round eyes that reminded Mercedes of a Precious Moments figurine.

"Calm down? Some asshole threatens my wife, puts his hands on her, and scares my kids, and you want me to remain calm? What if it was your family?"

"I understand how you must feel, but – "

"No, you have no idea how I feel. Whatever charges that can be pressed, we're pressing all of them."

His partner said:

"We understand. And we promise not to take up much of your time."

Mercedes answered the questions. When they were done, the officers thanked them for their time and said they would be in touch to follow up. Mercedes felt shell-shocked. Sam buckled up the twins in their car seats, took the car keys from her and said he would drive them home.

"But what about the truck?"

"I'll come back for it. I want to get you and the kids home."

Mercedes didn't protest. He drove slightly above the speed limit so they made it home in half the time. Rosy and Jake were cold and scared. After getting them out of their parkas and scarves, the twins wouldn't let go of their parents. Sam and Mercedes sat with them in front of the fireplace and prayed, doing their best to calm them down. They eventually stopped crying and they fed them lunch then attempted to put them in their cribs but the twins wanted to get in bed with their parents. Mercedes was thankful for their king sized bed and after changing into sweats, they all piled into the big, soft bed with Jake and Rosy between them. When the children were asleep, Sam and Mercedes stayed with them and had a quiet conversation about everything that happened.

"Sam, I'm going to ask you not to do anything that could have you arrested."

Sam looked out the window. It had begun to snow.

"He threatened you, put his hands on you, and scared the babies. You can't ask me not to retaliate."

"But what good does it do if it lands you in prison?"

"Damn it to hell, what do they expect us to do? I can't sit by and let racist dicks like Mr. White America harass my family. Do you think he's part of that group?"

"I don't know. I don't care. I want us all to be safe. And we are. And he's been arrested. I know you'll protect us and I have no problem with that. You stood them down in Town Square, but Sam this was different."

"How?"

"It was only one man angry at me for existing. Blaming me for whatever he thinks is corrupting America. I want to beat his ass too, but I also want to be here for our kids."

"He had a knife."

"I know and I can't stop thinking about what could've happened. It crossed my mind that he could've had a gun too."

Sam leaned over and hugged her.

"I have to get a handle on this. I won't take this lying down."

"I'm so tired," Mercedes said.

"I can't have you and the kids being in danger. You say it's one man but what's next?"

"I don't know."

They talked some more until Mercedes fell asleep. Sam was too wound up to even close his eyes. Then the doorbell rang and he went downstairs to answer it.

STRENGTH IN UNITY

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Roy standing on the doorstep with bags of groceries at his feet. His fluffy white down coat made him look like the Abominable Snowman.

"Roy, what are you doing here?" Sam asked.

"I came by to check on you guys and to bring you groceries. It's on the house. I know what Mercedes gets every week and I added in a few things."

"You didn't have to do that."

Roy picked up all the bags.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"Of course."

Roy wiped his black leather cowboy boots on their red and green Santa Claus welcome mat, and Sam let him inside and closed the door.

"Where should I put these?"

"Follow me."

Roy followed him into the kitchen where he put the bags on the counter then sat down to the table. Sam began brewing a pot of coffee.

"Mercedes is taking a nap."

"I'm so sorry about everything that's happened."

"Thank you for helping her."

"Is Mercedes ok? How are the twins?"

"Getting there."

Roy sighed.

"I'll pray for them."

"Thank you," Sam said.

"This isn't our town."

Sam poured them each a cup of coffee and joined Roy at the table.

"I used to think that too. I'm not so sure any more. We came here because it felt like home."

"Are you thinking of moving?"

"I don't know. You can't move every time bullshit happens. The anti-hate rally brought every one together and that's a start. Our neighbors really stepped up and we look out for each other… I try to stay hopeful."

Roy laid a sympathetic hand on Sam's shoulder.

"I wish I had some advice but I don't."

"Is Clarence ok?"

"Yeah, he only needed a few stitches in his arm."

"I take it he pressed charges."

"Yeah, he did, just like you." Roy said as he poured cream into his coffee. "For what it's worth, I think you have a beautiful family and you and Mercedes are good people. I hope this is an isolated incident and I'll continue my policy of 'no dicks allowed in my store.'"

Sam laughed.

"Great policy to have."

Roy stayed and helped Sam put away the groceries. Sam was surprised to find four packs of steaks. He held them up.

"Is this your something extra?"

Roy shrugged, a blush rose in his cheeks.

"Yeah, well… "

Sam patted his back.

"Thanks, man."

Sam also found extra Gerber juice boxes, animal crackers, and wagon wheel pasta for the twins and for Abby there were jars of coconut oil and E.L. Fudge cookies.

"You know my family," Sam said as he continued unpacking the groceries.

"You get to know your loyal customers," Roy said, while putting a couple of cartons of eggs in the fridge, "I learned that from my father."

Roy visited a while longer and then returned to the store. Sam spent the afternoon cooking a big dinner for Mercedes and the kids. He made all of the Hummel family comfort foods: macaroni and cheese, garlic butter steaks, collard greens, corn bread, sweet potatoes, green beans with bits of ham, tossed salad and a vanilla cream cake for dessert. He knew he was overcompensating with food, but he needed to do something that gave him joy, and cooking for his family always did.

Yet despite the delicious aromas that wafted through the kitchen and the happiness he felt from making the elaborate meal, Sam's mind wandered to revenge. Though he wasn't sure what it meant. Mercedes accepted he was a gun owner and when the town square incident happened, he signaled to the group, he was ready if something went down. And for a long time afterwards, whenever they went out as a family, he brought his gun. But then the rally gave them hope and promise, so he left it locked in the safe. Now, the urge to take it with him crept up again, but he couldn't be with Mercedes 24/7. Ever since the supremacy group came to town, the energy was different.

Abby came home late that afternoon because she had a nature club meeting after school and Travis' parents brought her home.

Mercedes was upstairs with the twins giving them an early bath, when Abby arrived. Sam told her what happened because keeping anything from his daughter was a bad idea; Abby was too observant for her own good, and she would have picked up on everyone's vibe that something was amiss. As he recounted the ugly event, Abby listened, her eyes filled with tears.

"What if he hurt Mommy and the twins?"

Sam hugged her and said they were fortunate they were unharmed. He went upstairs and helped Mercedes get the twins dressed for bed. She had changed into her short- sleeved nightgown and as she buttoned up Rosy's pink Princess Jasmine pajamas, Sam saw a purple bruise on her arm. He touched her shoulder.

"Did that bastard do this to you?"

"Sam, please."

"He grabbed your arm so hard that it left a bruise."

"I'm ok."

Sam finished putting Jake's Elmo pajamas on and they carried the twins downstairs for dinner. Though they tried to have a normal family dinner with all of the delicious food Sam prepared, it was a somber affair and dessert was left untouched. Afterwards, they said a prayer in the living room, seated in a circle, holding hands, heads bowed while Sam asked God to watch over them and give them strength. When he and Mercedes finally went to bed, he held her close, kissing her forehead.

"I don't know how make this better."

"We have to focus on what we have. Which is a lot. The good people outweigh the bad."

"Do they?"

"Sam…"

"Your bruise makes me want to kill him even more."

"Roy and Clarence helped me. Nowadays, most people would've recorded what happened on their phones and posted it to social media, not intervening at all. But they helped me. And that lunatic stabbed Clarence."

"I'm still furious. You could've been the one he stabbed or Jake and Rosy"

"I know and I'm angry too."

"I'm buying you mace. I know I can't be with you all the time, though I'll do my best."

"Let's get some sleep."

They kissed and soon Mercedes was asleep, but Sam remained awake, listening to the silence.

NOTHING TO FEAR

As the weeks passed, every morning Mercedes and Sam prayed together, before the children woke up and the day began it's hectic crazy run of insanity; they knelt on the floor, facing each other, bowed heads, hands clasped together, and said a prayer; then they meditated. The private sanctuary of the bedroom where they shared quiet moments together gave her strength, but it wasn't enough to assuage her fears and she dreaded leaving the house ever since the supermarket incident, but she kept her anxiety to herself, and pretended everything was fine.

Instead of going grocery shopping, she had the groceries delivered, telling Sam she was saving on gas and that the twins could get sick in the cold weather. Even though she knew the neighbors watched over Abby, she made up things for her to do indoors and discouraged her from going outside or even hanging out with friends. Her behavior shamed her. Wasn't she the woman who said they should build a snowman after the supremacist group left a flyer on their door?

What happened to her? What happened to her courage? Mercedes couldn't explain the transformation into barricading herself behind closed doors. The threat at the supermarket affected her more deeply than she realized. Whatever the reason, leaving the house became more difficult with each day and she only left if she had to, which was rare. She even had Sam staying home as much as possible, finding things for him to fix, and when that wasn't enough, she asked him to build her some bookshelves.

"Are you planning on making a library?" He asked her as he stroked her hair, they were cuddled on the couch in front of the TV, watching the news. The children were asleep upstairs. It was late Friday night and icy sleet beat against the windows.

"No, I just think we need some for the den. Abby can help you."

"Hmmm," he said, touching her cheek, "You've been giving me a lot of projects."

"You're good with your hands," she said, smiling up at him, "You should put them to use."

Sam leaned down and kissed her.

"Flattery is not my weakness."

"But pleasing me is."

Sam laughed and kissed her again.

"I know you're taking this conversation in other places, but I am curious about your sudden interest in my woodworking talents?"

Mercedes sighed.

"Oh, I don't know… she said, looking down at her hands. "It's such a nasty night, I'm glad we don't have to go out anywhere."

"You've been saying that a lot lately."

"Saying what?"

"How you're glad we're stuck home."

"I don't feel stuck at home. I feel safe. Don't you?"

"I want to take you dancing."

"There's no place to dance in Star Pride."

"I'll find a place."

"I don't know, then we'd have to find a sitter, why can't we dance here?"

Sam looked around the spacious room.

"In our living room?"

"Remember how we danced at your old house in Tennessee?"

"Yeah, but – "

"That was romantic."

"Yes it was. I dipped you."

"See we don't have to go anywhere."

Sam said nothing and kissed her instead. Mercedes was glad he didn't press the issue. Maybe she could eventually conquer her fear. But in the mean time, there were no more date nights or spontaneous outings. When she did go out, she timed it to a "T" and never lingered or dawdled, as she ran away from the imaginary ghost that haunted her. Every stranger's smile made her suspicious, of what she wasn't sure, but she was on edge, even when she smiled back she wondered if their eyes told the truth.

She knew she should talk to Santana, but her trusty friend and therapist was on maternity leave; she and her new wife, a buxom black woman named Ella, were expecting their first child together. They were having a girl. Santana referred a therapist to her while she was on leave and though Mercedes liked Dr. Freemont, he wasn't Santana and it was difficult to open up to him.

One morning Sam told her about a new second-hand toy store downtown. They were getting dressed after showering.

"It's called Second Hand Rose. You and the kids should go."

"I have housework to do."

"The house is clean."

"I have higher housecleaning standards than you," She said, chuckling as she fastened her bra.

"Well you should go to that new kiddie play land at the mall, I heard they have a really nice jungle gym."

"Why don't you take them on the weekend?"

Sam sat on the bed next to her and rubbed her shoulder; he was shirtless and he smelled shower fresh, his damp, pink nipples were hardened into stiff peaks.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"You're always home."

"So? Everything is so crowded this time of year. Besides, I'm saving on gas."

"We're not in financial trouble."

"That's because I do my best to save."

"Mercedes, you know what I mean."

"No, I don't know what you mean. Most men would kill to have a wife who runs a household like I do. You don't have to lift a finger and this is the thanks I get?"

Sam looked at her as if she'd gone crazy.

"What are you going on about? You know I appreciate everything you do. Are you saying I'm not pulling my weight?"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," she said pulling her purple sweater over her head.

Mercedes knew she was picking a fight simply because he was noticing her behavior again. Sam reached for her hand.

"I love you, you don't have to hide anything from me. Tell me what's wrong. Does it have to do with that racist lunatic?"

"No, it doesn't and you're overreacting. I'm fine. I'm sorry if I upset you. Do you want sausage with your eggs?" she asked him, rising from the bed.

He shook his head.

"Please don't do this."

"Do what?"

"Put up a wall."

"I'm not putting up any walls. I'm fine."

Sam stood up and put his arms around her.

"I love you with all that I am. You know that."

Mercedes nodded looking up at him.

"I swear I'm ok. I just don't like crowds or cold weather."

"Since when?"

"Sam, just stop."

He shook his head.

"You can't hide from me."

"Who said I was hiding?"

"Jane at Starbucks said she hasn't seen you in a while, and wondered if you were ok."

"So sightings from the Starbucks barista are your measuring stick?"

"No, and stop being dense. I can see something is wrong."

"I'm going downstairs," she said, pulling away from his embrace, "I have to start breakfast."

Sam's eyes grew misty. He sighed.

"Ok, Schätzchen, have it your way. I'll be downstairs in a minute."

She went to him and kissed his cheek.

"You worry too much," she said and left the room.

He never mentioned it again after that day, but she noticed him watching her more and this increased her anxiety. Since she was at home all the time, the house was immaculate, the meals became more fancy and elaborate and the twins grew restless, unlike Abby who had the outlet of school, the twins suffered more since they had nowhere to go. They couldn't understand why they couldn't go outside for a walk or to the nearby park to play the way they used to.

"You can catch cold," Mercedes said to Rosy as she braided her hair one frigid morning.

"I want to see the sun," Rosy said.

"You can see the sun from the window."

"I want to see clouds," Jake said, sitting beside his sister, holding her hand. The two were inseparable. "They miss us."

"Who misses you?" Mercedes asked.

"The clouds. And the birds too."

Mercedes continued to braid Rosy's hair and she gazed out the living room window. Their peacock Speranza wandered about the back yard making her weird human-like birdcall.

"We can play in the back yard for a little while," Mercedes said, hoping this would appease them.

"I want to go to the park," Jake said.

"We can feed Speranza," Mercedes said, "She's due for a treat."

Speranza mostly ate birdseed, but the vet said they could occasionally give her bread and fruit as a treat. She loved grapes.

Sesame Street came on TV distracting the twins from their desire to go outside as they watched Elmo dance about on the screen, singing about the color orange. Mercedes finished Rosy's hair, tying red ribbons at the end of her braids. Then she brushed and combed Jake's hair. Since he wanted to do everything like Rosy and vice versa, she put a tiny bit of Tui oil on his straight, shiny black hair, though he didn't need it. His hair wasn't dry, quite the opposite, yet she humored him anyway.

The twins were dressed in their play clothes: matching blue Thomas the Steam Engine warm up suits and thick white socks covered their pudgy feet. Mercedes had put a couple of apple pies in the oven and the air smelled like cinnamon and apples, a fire crackled in the fire place and the dark hardwood floors gleamed in the sunlight.

The timer went off in the kitchen and she went to take the pies out of the oven. When she opened the oven door, she was happy to see the golden brown crust on each of the pies. She put on her oven mitts and retrieved the pies, setting them on the counter to cool. Sam loved her apple pies and he would be pleased to see she made them, the thought brought her momentary joy, but the twins felt trapped in the house, and she couldn't deny them fresh air simply because she was afraid.

The rest of the morning was spent doing laundry. Finally she let the twins go outside in the back yard. They ran races with each other, the hard, frost covered ground, crunched beneath their snow boots as they ran across the yard, the wind in their faces, yelling for no reason at all, just simply from the joy of being outdoors.

They fed Speranza some grapes and she gobbled them from their hands before returning to her birdhouse to sit in front of the heating lamp Sam installed to keep her warm. Mercedes watched the twins with careful eyes, and gritted her teeth. Her heart thudded in her chest. The sunlight was harsh and bright. She checked her watch, willing the time to move faster. She scanned the yard for potential threats, thinking someone could climb the fence. Rosy and Jake were now doing somersaults, laughing as they tumbled about on the grass.

"Look at me!" Jake shouted to her as he attempted a cartwheel.

"Be careful," Mercedes called to him, "Cartwheels are hard."

Jake only laughed as he fell, and Rosy giggled beside him.

The wind blew, chilling her face; she squinted in the sun, thinking how she should've put on her shades. For the sunshine to be so bright, it provided little warmth. She checked her watch again, and bit her bottom lip. She thought about the man in the supermarket, how he grabbed her as if he had every right to touch her, belittle her and frighten her babies, and recalled the fear in her chest as she ran away.

Then she felt someone touch her shoulder. She screamed, turned around, and punched the intruder in the stomach. She refused to be the same fool twice; she had mace in her coat pocket and she knew the combination to the gun safe; and Sam gave her shooting lessons on the weekends. She cursed herself for not having it with her, but she reasoned she wouldn't need it for the back yard. The bottom of the intruder's face was covered with a thick blue knit scarf; she pounced on him, knocking him to the ground, and pulling out the mace, aiming it at the fallen stranger, ready to spray it.

"Leave us alone!"

"Mercedes, it's me! Please calm down!" Sam said, holding her hands, and pulling down his scarf, "It's me, Schätzchen."

"Sam I…"

"Just breathe."

"I, I can't…" she began to cry and the twins ran over to their parents.

"You jumped on Papa," Jake said, bewildered, "Are you mad?" he patted Mercedes arm.

"She's sad," Rosy said, pointing to their mother's tears.

"Let's go in the house," Sam said, slowly rising from the ground.

They went in the house, with Sam holding his stomach where Mercedes punched him. He took off the twins' coats, hats and scarves and made them some hot chocolate, telling them everything was fine and that Mommy made a mistake, while Mercedes went upstairs to their bedroom, sat on the bed and cried. Sam came upstairs about 30 minutes later, leaving the twins downstairs in front of the TV with their building blocks. Mercedes didn't know how long he held her as she cried; she released everything within her. When she couldn't cry any more, Sam said:

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you're afraid. I knew something was wrong. But you pushed me away."

"I'm sorry."

"Tell me everything you're feeling right now. I don't care how long it takes, we have the baby monitor on and the door is open. I'm with you and we're safe. I love you and I want to help you. Please let me."

So Mercedes told him everything: the constant fear and anxiety, the need to stay in the house where she felt safest, the thought that maybe someone would hurt them again. And Sam listened to her, never interrupting, holding her in his arms, as she talked and cried.

"I'm so sorry, Sam. I thought I could do this. I thought it would go away."

"Please stop apologizing. We'll get through this. Why won't you tell Dr. Fremont?"

"He's great but… I'm ashamed. Other people have been through much worse, like getting run over in the street or shot. I was spared. I shouldn't crumble."

"Yes you should crumble because you're human, and I don't care what happened to everyone else, I care about what happens to you. Never be ashamed of feeling afraid. And stop comparing yourself to others. You're not them. You're you, understand?"

"Yes."

"Santana trusted Dr. Fremont enough to handle her patients while she was away and you said yourself that you liked him."

"I do."

"Would it help if I sat with you on your session?"

Mercedes hadn't thought of that.

"Actually it would."

"Ok, we're calling him now and we'll make an appointment."

They made an appointment and called Stacey to pick up Abby from school and watch the twins. Mercedes told Dr. Fremont it was an emergency and he said they could come in that afternoon. Later as they drove to his office about a half an hour away, Sam held her hand, as they zoomed along the expressway.

"You know I'm always by your side. Just as you've been by mine," he said, "It hurts when you hide stuff from me."

"This wasn't meant to hurt you. I just never felt like this before. It's a new experience for me."

"I love you, I hate to see you hurt. Like when I saw your bruise, the image stayed in my mind for a long time. I couldn't un-see it"

"I love you too and the bruise is gone."

"I know. But my anger isn't."

"The court date is next month."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten."

"I'm sorry I punched you."

Sam smiled and kissed her hand.

"You can pack quite a punch. I'll give you that."

"I'm sorry about what happened."

"Baby, it's ok. And I'm sorry to. I didn't mean to scare you."

"How's your stomach?"

"I'll live," he said, kissing her hand again.

"I'm glad you calmed Rosy and Jake were down."

"Me too."

They talked about everything that happened. As they pulled into the parking lot of Dr. Fremont's office building, Sam said:

"How do you feel now?"

She laid her head on his shoulder.

"Hopeful."

ooo

Dr. Freemont's office was sandwiched between a small accounting firm and a chiropractor on the second floor of brick office building across the street from a sad, little strip mall that boasted an all you can eat Chinese buffet restaurant, a dry cleaners, a dime store straight out of fifties with it's retro font on it's faded plastic red and white sign that said Vidlers 5 & 10 and a fried chicken joint called Fanny Pride's Chicken House advertising a 10 piece special until 6PM. This town was a far cry from Star Pride. It was more like a ghost town with people hanging on to what was once a bustling community. After the local pencil factory shut down a few years ago, it was never quite the same. Some stayed because it was cheap and found jobs in nearby towns, but many left to find better opportunities elsewhere. Dr. Fremont chose the location because the rent was cheap and the area needed a psychiatrist. Sam parked the car and got out, opening Mercedes' door for her. He walked with his arm around her, as Mercedes shivered inside her coat. The sky was turning twilight purple and the air was penetrating cold.

An overweight man with a bushy mustache wearing a long brown mink coat stood at the entrance of the office building, puffing away on a cigar, gold and diamond rings on his fingers, he tipped his white cowboy hat and opened the glass door for them. He smiled at them and Mercedes forced herself to smile back, even with the tension rising in her chest.

The tobacco smelled sweet, almost pleasant, and it followed them into the building, drifting down the long hallway to the elevator. The hall was lit with bright white fluorescent lights overhead. The waxed black and white tiled floor squeaked beneath their feet. Sam held her hand, squeezing it in support. She loved this man so much. How could she ever do something so foolish as push him away? What was wrong with her? When they got to the elevator, Mercedes hugged and kissed him, taking Sam by surprise. Tears filled her eyes.

"I love you," she said.

Sam melted in her embrace, rubbing his big hands up and down her back.

"And I love you."

Mercedes pulled back, wiping her eyes, as he pushed the UP button on the elevator. They got on and heard Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer playing on the stereo system, a silver wreath with blue glitter balls hung on the elevator wall. The bell chimed and they got off, walked down the hall to Dr. Fremont's office and went inside. His secretary, an elderly woman in her 80s named Madge, with teased, dyed red hair and way too much blue eye shadow, greeted them with a big smile, her teeth refrigerator white. She smelled like lavender. Red rouge coated her pale, wrinkled cheeks. The light reflected off of her blue rhinestone rimmed cat eyeglasses. Silver bells decorated the red knit cardigan sweater she wore, and jingled every time she moved. Red Christmas stockings filled with candy canes hung from her gray metal desk and a little Christmas tree decorated with gold tinsel and red lights sat on top of the filing cabinet next to her desk, and on top of the tree, was a pretty black angel, with a long, gold gown and curly black hair that was styled in an Afro, and a silver halo was nestled in her voluminous curls.

"Hello Mercedes," she said, "I see you brought your husband Sam."

Sam looked at Mercedes and smirked.

"I see you've been talking about me."

"Of course she has," Madge said, "How handsome you are!"

"Thank you," Sam said, blushing a little.

"You two can have a seat," she said pointing to the black leather loveseat. A glass coffee table was positioned front of the couch, with silver bowls filled with Hershey's kisses, and a few old coffee stained issues of AARP.

They sat down and waited. Madge smiled at them.

"He won't be long. Don't worry."

She began typing away on her computer, humming to herself as she worked. Sam held Mercedes' hand and whispered in her ear.

"Feel ok?"

She nodded.

"I'm good."

Sam kissed her cheek and Dr. Fremont's door opened. He was an older man in his early 60s with closely cropped white hair and bright blue eyes, a shade that Mercedes had never seen before, almost like a cloudless sky; he wasn't the type to wear colored contacts so she figured he was born with them. He wore a polyester flowered shirt, faded jeans, and brown leather moccasins decorated with colorful red, black, white and turquoise beads.

"Hello Mercedes and Sam, come right in."

They went into his office and he closed the door.

"I was really concerned when you called me. Tell me what's going on?"

Mercedes told Dr. Fremont everything that happened with Sam beside her, encouraging her all the way. She broke down and cried in the middle of her story.

"I was so scared and didn't know what to do, how to process it. When I walked in the market that day, it was just an ordinary day. And this guy just starts acting crazy, saying racist things and threatening me. I was afraid because I didn't know what he would do. I failed."

"How?"

"I should've stood up to him more."

"In what manner?"

"I don't know. Be Wonder Woman?" she laughed and took some tissues out of her purse, "My first instinct was to run because I had to protect my children. He had a knife."

"You did nothing wrong. This is not failure. Is anyone judging you for your actions?"

She looked at Sam who put his arm around her, giving her the strength she needed.

"No, I've just been judging myself. And then I think, what if it happens again? This fear grew inside me. We've been having some racial tension in town and I don't want to put my family in danger."

"The manager and security guard helped you. Before that the community had a No Place For Hate rally and your neighbors all look out for you and your kids since the flyer incident. It sounds like you made a home in a town where people won't tolerate hate and your husband loves you more than any man I've seen love a woman. I'm not saying it won't happen again but I am saying you have a good support system. But fear controls you and that's understandable. We'll work together to overcome it. You aren't weak. You aren't a failure. You're a mother who protected herself and her children from a God-awful racist scumbag. This won't be an easy journey, but it's one I know you can make. I'm glad you're crying."

"Why?"

"You're releasing everything and that's good. I think you attacking Sam brought everything to a head, do you agree?"

"Yes, I do."

"Mercedes, I won't give you a kumbayah speech and say we all just need to hold hands and the bad people go away. I will tell you not to judge yourself, give yourself time to heal and take little steps. I will also prescribe medication for your anxiety."

"Thank you."

"Sam," Dr. Fremont said, "I want you to keep doing what you're doing. Fear and anxiety can be crippling and shameful for those who experience it, and the most soothing thing in the world is to have someone there beside you treating you with love and compassion."

"I will."

"And Mercedes, this isn't a quick fix, you may feel fine one day and not so great the next. It's a work in progress, understand?"

"I understand."

"What comes next for the man who harassed you?"

"He was arrested. All of us pressed charges."

"I hope justice is served and it's not one of those I didn't take my meds, society misunderstands me; I'm a product of my environment bullshit. No, you're a hateful, racist douchebag and you're responsible for your actions. There are no excuses and he stabs a man on top of that."

"You know, Dr. Fremont one of the reasons this upset me so much is because I have told people off, not because of racism but for other reasons. This was different, why?"

"Who were those people you told off?"

"My in-laws and my Aunt Josephine and my employer when I was being stiffed for a raise."

"That was your family and your employer. You knew the situation. You weren't in danger. Standing up to relatives and to a complete stranger who could be armed is an entirely different scenario and your children were in danger too. It's apples and oranges. And you can handle yourself, you knocked down your husband," he said.

"I've been learning how to shoot."

"Well, then, that's a useful skill."

"I know everyone is not an enemy, but my sense of security is shaken. And there's something else."

She looked at Sam and back at Dr. Fremont and said:

"Sam is a wonderful husband and provider. He does everything in his power to protect us. After he saw my bruise, he had such rage in his eyes, and I was afraid if he knew of my fear that he would go after that guy and either kill him or beat him. I love him. I don't want to see him arrested."

Sam squeezed her hand.

"I want to kill him, and if I had been there, I would've." he said quietly.

"I know and I would never stop you from protecting us. But I was alone with the kids and the circumstances were different. I was afraid of losing you."

Dr. Fremont cleared his throat.

"Mercedes, I know you love Sam, but those are his feelings and you can't control them. His wife and children were in danger, so the rage is understandable. However, together you will have to discuss how to move forward too, and I can help with that."

They stayed a while longer and then headed home. As they walked out of the office, Madge gave them each a red tin of her homemade fudge.

"It's an old family recipe," she said thrusting the containers into their hands. Drive safe."

They thanked her and left. The drive home was unfortunately long because of an accident on the expressway. Stacey called to tell them she ordered Chinese food so they didn't have to worry about dinner. Mercedes was glad because she and Sam were in no mood to cook. When they got home, Stacey stayed and visited, talking about her new boyfriend and how her calligraphy business was going. Mercedes was glad she didn't ask them how the session went; for some reason, she didn't want to discuss it, even though it went well. After Stacey went home they put the twins to bed and tucked in Abby.

"Mommy, will you be ok?" Abby asked as Mercedes covered her up with a comforter.

"I'm fine sweetie," Mercedes said, kissing her forehead.

"Your mother and I are working through this," Sam said, reassuring their daughter, before giving her a goodnight kiss on the cheek.

They said a prayer with Abby then went to their bedroom, undressed and showered together. Sam soaped up the washcloth and carefully washed her body, giving her loving caresses, and whispered praise for her beauty. He held her soft body against his firm one as the water sprayed down on them, feeling her heartbeat against his.

"You're beautiful, courageous and kind," he said, "I'm beside you, baby, I love you."

Mercedes held on tight, his words soothing her. When they finished showering, they went to bed and made love, and Mercedes enjoyed the fullness of him as he stretched her inner walls with his member. It was gentle, tender and sweet, the way he held her, and told her how much he loved her and she did the same, praising him as a husband and father, calling him her rock, and she cried because of the gratitude filling her heart. Their orgasm was intense and they held each other as it rippled through their bodies.

ooo

A few weeks later…

Mercedes had regular sessions with Dr. Fremont and he helped her immensely by enabling her to confront her fear and live her life. Though it was a daily struggle; she had a support system, and Sam knew where she was at all times. Aunt Josephine wanted them to move, but Mercedes told her despite everything, Star Pride was home and they were staying put for the time being.

The family went all out that year with decorating the house for Christmas. Blue and green lights were hung on the house and were strung across the surface of the front lawn, an inflatable snowman and Santa were displayed, and big blue electric glitter angels were also in the front yard. In the back yard, they decorated Speranza's birdhouse with blue and green lights too.

One afternoon she braved the cold and she and the twins went to Target to get more wrapping paper and cleaning supplies. She was fine at first as they perused the different wrapping paper in the paper goods aisle, Rosy and Jake called out the colors of each roll of paper with pride in their little voices. A few shoppers smiled at them and told Mercedes how cute her babies were, the Target employees were extremely friendly and kind, asking her if she needed assistance as she pushed the big red cart through the store, and nothing was amiss, but panic seized her heart as she gazed at a shelf of scented candles, trying to decide which ones had the best smells for the holidays, when she felt a cold dread seep into her bones.

Rosy and Jake were giggling and chatting together, their little heads pressed together as they participated in a conversation only they could understand, they shared a secret language sometimes. She looked over her shoulder and saw and elderly couple arguing about the price of scotch tape, then a teenage boy with blue hair passed by her, hands stuffed in his pockets, ear buds in his silver ball studded ears.

What was she afraid of? Then she saw a bald, clean-cut man with a thin mustache, in a black overcoat and red scarf, so all American and so threatening in her eyes, he walked toward her and she took a deep breath. It wasn't the crazy man from the supermarket, but his eyes were the same, something about those eyes. She began pushing the cart and walked quickly. She felt embarrassed and afraid. That man wasn't a threat. He probably didn't even see her. But the panic rose within her, she couldn't relapse, she closed her eyes and breathed in and out. She had to make it out of store, yet her feet wouldn't move. She was stuck in the home appliance section, gripping the cart handle, the sound of Bing Crosby crooning White Christmas throughout the store filled her ears, she felt the twins' hands covering her own; their soft, sticky fingers touched her skin.

"Mommy?"

Her phone vibrated in her coat pocket. She opened her eyes and, retrieved her phone and saw it was Sam.

"Schätzchen?"

"Yes."

"I want to tell you a story."

"Sam I – "

"Shhh, just listen to me. Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?"

Mercedes took a few deep breaths. Then she heard Sam's voice again:

"I knew a little girl who dreamed of flying horses, grew up crying because she was alone, had parents who died in a fire and an aunt who loved her more than life. She lived through the death of her husband, the silence of her child, drug addiction, mistreatment, loneliness and heartache, and one day she was foolish enough to marry the man downstairs with a huge mouth and loved her like he's never loved another and they got through a lot together. And that woman is all courage; her heart is so big it swallows you up and the universe loves her; sometimes you have to remind her of how she touches everyone's lives for the better, even random strangers, you need to tell her how precious she is, how much her family and friends love her even in difficult times. This woman is a jewel and my heart and I couldn't be more proud of her."

Tears trickled down her cheeks and she quickly wiped them away. His voice was the only thing that mattered.

"She's the mother of my children. She's my everything and we walk through fires together."

Suddenly she felt strong arms encircling her waist, holding her close. She turned around and faced Sam. She cried on his shoulder.

"Did you follow me?"

"No, I was taking a break in my truck and your face popped into my mind and you had tears in your eyes; I felt you shaking. You told me you were coming here this afternoon. I wasn't too faraway so I called you on my way here."

"I'm sorry."

"Mercedes Hummel never apologize for this. You've been doing great. We all have our off days."

"Do you feel better Mommy?" Jake asked.

"Yes, sweetie pie."

They paid for the wrapping paper and left the store. Sam followed her home in his truck. By the time they got to the house, her panic had all but vanished, but she knew there was a long road ahead.

ooo

A few days after the Target incident, Santana contacted her to let her know she gave birth to her baby girl, who they named Molly Mabel Lopez Stratton, and since there were no complications, she was home with her wife Ella recuperating. While Sam and the kids went to Christmas Playland to see Santa Claus one Saturday afternoon, Mercedes drove to see Santana and the new baby. She bought gifts for the baby: a beautiful white lace layette set, baby essentials like diapers, lotion, pacifiers, bath items, and a dozen onsies.

The weather was clear and cold and she listened to her gospel Christmas playlist as she drove along the highway. When she arrived to their house about an hour later, she forgot how lovely the old Victorian house was with its bright blue paint, wraparound porch, irregularly shaped black steeped roof, and white shutters. Two black lampposts were positioned on either side of the concrete walkway leading up to the front steps and dark green holly was wrapped around each post.

A green wreath with a giant red velvet bow hung on the front door. Mercedes rang the doorbell and Ella answered the door dressed in a black velour tracksuit, her hair in curlers. She was about twenty years older than Santana, her skin was dark amber and she was plump with a generous bosom. Santana said they met in a creative writing class at the local community college. Ella had been married to a man before and when he died, she finally came out of the closet and lived her life as a lesbian. Ella had a pleasant face, and a pretty smile. She hugged Mercedes upon seeing her.

"Merry Christmas," she said, and Mercedes smelled her sandalwood perfume.

"Hello Ella, good to see you."

Ella pulled her inside the house, and the aroma of baking sweet potato pies wafted in the air.

"Something smells good."

"Girl, you know I got pies baking for my wife. She's been awfully demanding lately."

"I heard that!" Santana yelled from the living room.

Mercedes laughed as she followed Ella down the hall to the living room where Santana was sprawled out on the couch, covered with a heavy purple blanket with Molly in her arms, the caramel hued newborn had a head full of curly black hair and she nursed from Santana's big bare breast, which spilled out from the front of her opened fluffy, pink robe. Santana's long dark hair was in one long braid that reached her waist; her face was a bit fuller, and Mercedes could see she gained weight; her usually angular features were softer. She smiled at Mercedes.

"Hey Mercedes, come meet our little rug rat."

Mercedes walked over to them and looked down at the gorgeous newborn.

"She's beautiful," she said touching the top of her head, "Hi Molly."

Molly continued nursing, oblivious to everything else. Mercedes placed her gifts on the coffee table and sat down in the recliner near the couch.

"You didn't have to bring anything," Santana said.

"Oh, it's nothing and I wanted to."

Ella leaned down and kissed Santana's forehead.

"I'm going to check on the pies, do you need anything?"

"Yes, I'd love some cocoa."

"Sure thing, sweetie," Ella said and turned to Mercedes, "And would you like anything?"

"I'll have some cocoa too."

"Coming right up," Ella said, kissing Santana once more before leaving the room.

Mercedes looked at the diamond sparkling on Santana's hand.

"So how is marriage and motherhood treating you?"

Santana smiled, her eyes misty.

"Wonderful, I know I sound sappy but it's true. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love Ella and Molly. Everything happened so fast."

The two women went to the Justice of the Peace and got married on a rainy summer afternoon then went to Five Guys for burgers and shakes; it was perfect for them. Neither one of them was into weddings and fanfare.

"Ella is sweet."

"She's more than sweet. She puts up with my ornery ass and that's more than I ever thought possible."

"Oh, Santana," Mercedes said.

"It's true. You don't know how many failed relationships I've had but that's for another time. How are you doing?"

"I'm better. I have my days, but… I'm getting there."

"I'm so sorry for what happened to you."

"Thank you for Dr. Fremont."

"I can't leave my patients hanging and he's a great man."

Mercedes nodded thinking of his support then she said.

"Is Molly sleeping through the night?"

"I wish," Santana said gazing down at her daughter, "She wakes up every few hours."

Ella returned with two white mugs with sparkling silver stars, steam rising from each one. Tiny marshmallows floated on the surface of the rich, creamy cocoa. She set them on the table. Molly pulled away from Santana's breast, her dark eyes closing.

"You, finished nugget?" Santana said as she lifted up the baby and burped her over her shoulder, after she belched, Molly fell asleep. Ella took the baby upstairs and Santana closed her robe. She picked up one of the mugs and sipped the cocoa.

"Mmmm, so good," she said, closing her eyes. Mercedes picked up the other mug and took a drink, and she agreed it was quite good, though not as good as Sam's.

Ella came back downstairs and sat next to Santana on the couch; the curlers were gone from her hair, and now it was a mass of bouncy black curls, framing her sweet, angelic face. She sat next to Santana who pulled her into her arms, kissing her lips, and running her hands through her shiny hair.

"I love your hair."

Ella kissed her back.

"I'm glad you like my old lady curls."

"Hey, there's nothing old about you."

Ella pointed to a few gray hairs in the front of her head.

"See this?"

Santana touched the patch of gray, pulled Ella's head toward her and kissed it.

"It doesn't make you old. You're beautiful."

Ella blushed and put her arm around Santana, holding her close to her side, and Santana rested her head on her wife's shoulder. The two were very much love and Mercedes was happy for them.

"Where are you two spending Christmas this year?"

"Right here," Santana said, "We're too pooped to go anywhere. My mother might come over. How about you?"

"Sam's family and Aunt Josephine are coming. I'm looking forward to it."

"How are the kids?"

"Rosy and Jake are talking up a storm and Abby is doing well. I couldn't be more proud of them."

"You've come a long way," Santana said.

"That I have."

"You know Mercedes, when Santana told me what happened to you at the supermarket, my heart broke," Ella said, looking at her with kind eyes, "I worry about women in situations like that, but especially black women. I feel like we're the protectors and not the protected. I was glad those men helped you."

"I was fortunate," Mercedes said, sipping her cocoa.

Santana kissed Ella's cheek.

"I would've protected you."

"I know, love."

Mercedes spent the afternoon with them. She enjoyed their company because they were both so funny and warm. Mercedes could see why Santana loved Ella; the woman had a giving heart and generous soul that could make anyone fall in love with her. They laughed and talked, eating sweet potato pie and trading stories. As the sun began to set, she hugged them good-bye with a promise to come again with Sam and the kids.

ooo

All of the Hummels came for Christmas except for Finn, Matt and Lucy who were still on their road trip. Their absence left a void. Mercedes thought of Rachel in her quiet moments, recalling the sister bond they shared.

Early one morning while everyone was asleep, she sat at the kitchen table, writing in her journal, and sipping a big cup of Earl Grey tea, she was wrapped up in her old blue bathrobe, and the sun was peeking over the horizon outside the window covered with glittering white frost; she began humming Happy Days Are Here Again and for a brief moment she heard Rachel's voice accompany hers, it wasn't the thin, whispery voice she had toward the end of her life, it was the big, strong voice she was born with, a voice that carried her family through difficult times. Mercedes stopped writing. She closed her eyes and sang:

Happy days are here again

The skies above are clear again

Then she heard it again, that unmistakable soprano voice that could easily turn into one of a belter:

So let's sing a song of cheer again

Happy days are here again

Mercedes kept singing with the phantom voice.

Altogether shout it now

There's no one

Who can doubt it now

So let's tell the world about it now

Happy days are here again

Your cares and troubles are gone

There'll be no more from now on

From now on…

Then she felt a thin hand holding hers, smelled a sweet perfume, and a brush of long, soft hair against her cheek. They sang together until the end.

Happy days are here again

The skies above are clear again

So, let's sing a song of cheer again

Happy times

Happy nights

Happy days

Are here again!

Mercedes cried at the final words, the tears flowed down her cheeks and Rachel hugged her. They finally sang their duet.

"I miss you," Mercedes said.

The hug lasted a long time. Then she heard Rachel respond, it was faint.

"I love you."

Mercedes cried harder and told her she loved her too.

"We had so many songs to sing together."

She held on for as long as she could and then Rachel vanished. It took her awhile to process what happened and she had to smile because despite how much she missed her, she knew Rachel was at peace.

When the Hummels arrived, the house was filled to the brim and Mercedes was happy to see everyone. On Christmas Eve, Carol, Stacey, Helen and Aunt Josephine helped her cook and the kitchen bustled with activity. They made the traditional Hummel holiday dishes: potato dumplings, sweet and sour purple cabbage, potato fritters, spinach salad with hot bacon dressing, butter cake and apple strudel. They planned to cook the stuffed goose on Christmas day. They also made some of the Jones holiday favorites like sweet potato pie, collard greens cooked with garlic and smoked turkey, macaroni and cheese, and million dollar pound cake.

Burt, Blaine, Kurt, Sam and Stevie carried on the tradition of the gingerbread hearts and baked them late on Christmas Eve while the rest of the family watched old Christmas movies while sipping on mulled cider and hot chocolate; the children were upstairs asleep as multicolored Christmas lights shined on them. Mercedes and Abby thought it would be fun to turn her room into a Christmas room where all the kids slept, so they decorated the walls with sparkling silver snow flakes, and hung lights along the perimeter of the room. They plugged in Santa Claus nightlights into the wall sockets and sprayed fake snow onto her vanity mirror.

And Abby persuaded her mother to get a little tree to put in the corner of the room and it was decorated with plain white lights and glittering blue stars. Jake and Rosy helped sprinkle glitter onto her dresser, though they got more on the floor, but it didn't matter because a sparkling floor added to the ambience. Now the children were upstairs in that marvelous room fast asleep as a snowstorm raged outside. Mercedes allowed Jake and Rosy to play in the room until bedtime, and put them in their cribs. So they wouldn't feel left out, they decorated the twins' room too.

As It's a Wonderful Life played on the television, Mercedes sipped her hot chocolate from her black Santa mug and felt extremely tired. Stacy was beside her. They shared a big, red blanket and Stacey's long, blonde hair shined in the lamplight. Aunt Josephine sat in the leather recliner, knitting an afghan; Helen was curled up on the loveseat drinking mulled cider; and Carol was in front of the fireplace roasting marshmallows. The Christmas tree sparkled in all it's glory in the corner, with stars, multicolored balls of blue, red, green and yellow, silver tinsel and musical notes and underneath were all of the wrapped presents in bright green, red and gold paper. A fire roared in the fireplace and the spicy scent of gingerbread hung in the air. Stacey scooted closer to Mercedes and put her head on her shoulder.

"I'm pooped," she said.

Mercedes smiled.

"Me too. Cooking wears me out."

She was glad to be tired and she welcomed the laughter and talking brought on when the Hummel clan invaded the house. It made her forget all the ugliness her family experienced. Ever since the Target incident, or relapse as she liked to call it, her anxiety actually improved a lot. The bad days decreased and she was grateful for the therapy and her family's support.

"What's that I hear?" Aunt Josephine said, looking up from her knitting, "Sounds like folks singing in the street."

"Probably carolers," Mercedes said, "I'm surprised they're out this late, and it's really snowing hard."

"I think it's nice you have carolers in your neighborhood," Helen said, sipping her cider, "Too bad the kids are asleep."

Aunt Josephine nodded. Carol peeked out the window: "They're getting closer."

Then Mercedes heard the carolers shout in unison:

"Mercedes Hummel, please come to the door!"

Mercedes eyes grew wide.

"They just called my name."

"I bet Sam has something up his sleeve," Stacey said, as she pushed away the blanket and stood up. "Let's go see what they want."

"But we're in our pajamas," Mercedes said.

"We'll put on our coats, come on."

"You know something don't you?" Mercedes said as she left the warm cocoon of the blanket; she wore her oversized plaid flannel pajamas and heavy red socks.

"I swear I don't know a thing," Stacy said.

Everyone grabbed their coats and went to the front door. Burt, Stevie, Blaine and Kurt were already there, wearing their coats too. Sam was missing.

"What's going on? Where's Sam?" Mercedes asked them.

"Your guess is as good as ours, he said he was going to7-11 for some milk," Burt said.

Mercedes opened the door and what she saw on the front lawn was magical. A group of a dozen carolers wearing white coats, each holding a candle, stood with the blue green lights of their Christmas decorations illuminating their faces, snowflakes falling on them. They looked like a band of angels. She went out onto the front porch, waving at them. Then she heard someone playing the guitar and then she heard Sam's voice singing:

"Bring your tired

And bring your shame

Bring your guilt

And bring your pain

Don't you know that's not your name

You will always be much more to me

Every day I wrestle with the voices

That keep telling me I'm not right

But that's alright

'Cause I hear a voice and He calls me redeemed

When others say I'll never be enough

Then the carolers joined him in the chorus.

When others say I'll never be enough

And greater is the One living inside of me

Than he who is living in the world

In the world

And greater is the One living inside of me

Than he who is living in the world…

He stood in front of the carolers, belting out each note, strumming away on his guitar, his face red from the cold, his green eyes shining in the Christmas lights. When they finished the song, Sam added an extra verse:

"So Mercedes, this song is for you. Merry Christmas Schätzchen. I love you. And greater is the One living inside of you, than he who is living in the world…"

Mercedes was crying from how wonderful it all was. That was her song of strength, and now Sam was singing it to her. This was such a loving, caring thing to do. She didn't even notice how all the kids were crowded on the porch, clapping their hands. Abby held Rosy and Burt held Jake. She walked down the steps in her stocking clad feet, and she didn't even feel the snow beneath the wool socks, and she threw her arms, around him as everyone cheered around. She kissed him, and saw he was crying too.

"How did you do all of this?"

"I got skills, baby," he said, "I love you."

They hugged and kissed until Mercedes realized it was freezing outside and asked all of carolers to join them inside for hot chocolate and treats and they were happy to accept her invitation. Soon the house became rather chaotic with all of the chilly carolers crowded into the living room, but it was so joyous and fun. Now that the kids were wide awake, they joined in the festivities and helped the adults in the kitchen make the hot chocolate and cut up the big vanilla cake they were saving for dinner the next day and serve decorated sugar cookies on a big silver platter. It was an impromptu Christmas party. Since everyone was filled with the holiday spirit, they began singing carols, with Sam playing guitar.

The entire family sang together and Mercedes got to hear Blaine and Kurt's beautiful voices sing a duet of Baby It's Cold Outside. Aunt Josephine sang Blue Christmas, her voice as soulful as Mercedes remembered, when Aunt Josephine sang she was transported back to a time when it was just the two of them in that little house on Christmas Eve, with not many gifts under the tree, but instead they made it special anyway, and they would watch Christmas specials, bake cookies and sing together. It was the only time of year Aunt Josephine sang. She would joke and say her voice was for special occasions. She never worked on Christmas and Mercedes was never alone. As she sang Blue Christmas with only Sam's guitar accompanying her, the living room fell silent, and Mercedes heard all of their holiday memories in Aunt Josephine's rich alto voice. When she was finished, there was thunderous applause and Burt even whistled.

"Now I see where my daughter-in-law gets it from," he said.

Aunt Josephine smiled, suddenly a little shy from all of the attention. Sam put down his guitar and hugged her.

"That was beautiful."

"Thank you, Sam, and you're an excellent guitarist."

Mercedes hugged her too.

"That was every Christmas we spent together," Mercedes said, remembering the smell of million dollar pound cake and roasted turkey wafting throughout the house, and the beat-up television with no cable, but rabbit ears antenna, and the only clear station was PBS. The plastic covering the red couch her Aunt Josephine got on layaway from Sears, and the three All God's Children collectible figurines proudly displayed in the china cabinet in their tiny dining room. The little black children figurines dressed in their Sunday best with kinky hair and patent leather shoes were special because it was one of the few things Aunt Josephine splurged on. No, they didn't have much but they had each other and that was enough.

"Baby girl, I know, I was there, remember?" Aunt Josephine said, kissing her cheek, "Look how far we've come, my Mercy Me."

Tears welled up in Mercedes eyes, falling onto her plump cheeks.

"You haven't called me Mercy Me since – "

"Since you were knee high to a duck, sneaking jam from the cupboard?"

Mercedes laughed.

"I was always getting into something."

"That you were, but I wouldn't have traded you for anything. I love you, baby."

"I love you too," She said, hugging her again.

The kids played in the middle of the living room until the adults saw it was after midnight and told them it was bedtime. Rosy and Jake were fighting sleep but by the time their grandparents took them upstairs, they were asleep in their arms. The party winded down after that, and then the carolers said good night and wished them all a Merry Christmas. Stacey, Helen and Stevie cleaned up the living room, gathering up the empty mugs and napkins while Kurt, Blaine and Aunt Josephine tackled the kitchen. Their family told them everything was covered and to go to bed.

"Merry Christmas," Stevie and Helen said over their shoulders. "Go to bed, we'll take care of everything."

Sam and Mercedes went upstairs to the bedroom, their arms wrapped around each other. Once Sam closed the door, he kissed her, guiding her toward the bed. He smelled like gingerbread and chocolate. Mercedes stood still as he removed her pajamas, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her voluptuous nude body in the moonlight. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs grazing over her large, erect nipples. She shivered. Sam pulled back the covers, picked her up and put her in the bed, covering her up. Mercedes waited for him to undress, which he did in ten seconds flat, and he was hard and ready for her.

He positioned himself on top of her, and thrust inside her, grinding his hips, and she lay beneath him, enjoying the late-night love session, he took his time stroking her, nice and slow, filling her up and satisfying the void within her. They kissed as they made love, she squeezed his firm buttocks and he moaned. After they came, he lay on top of her in the afterglow, his blonde head rested on the soft cushion of her full bosom. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"That feels good," he mumbled as she massaged his scalp.

"Thank you for my gift."

He raised his head and kissed her full lips.

"You're welcome. I'm proud of you."

Mercedes kissed him.

"You make it easy to be who I am. I love you."

Sam smiled at her in the darkness. They kissed again and soon they needed each other again and Mercedes turned around and got on all fours, knowing Sam loved her in this position because he could admire her big, gorgeous, rear end that jiggled with each thrust. When he slid into her once more, she moaned at how good it felt, and they made love three more times before falling asleep exhausted but satisfied. Mercedes never felt so happy.

END NOTES: Thank you for reading and reviewing my story!

#Samcedes fanfiction #sam evans and mercedes jones #Samcedes

4 notes · View notes

adscititious-cacoethes · 7 years

Text

Petrichor (7/12)

Pairing: Eventual Trevor C./Reader; other background relationships Chapter: 7 of 12 Warnings: Swearing, TALKS ABOUT BLOOD/DRINKING BLOOD (nothing graphic), Sneaky Suspicious Lindsay, Fae stuff, More Pining, the closest thing to non-danger-related angst I’ll ever write, Trevvvvvooorrrr, vampires and werewolves and things that go bump in the night (PG-13) Word Counts: Chapter: 3,547 Total: 26,134 A/N: New day, new part! Just as a notice for all, this is one of the chapters where the warnings are actually important. If you’re concerned, please contact me and I can explain to you what exactly goes down so that you can decide if you’re comfortable with it. I promise there’s nothing graphic though! Reminder that this has a bunch of supernatural-y stuff, and also that this would not have seen the light of day (pun intended), if it weren’t for @chefgeofframsay. P.S. - Feedback would be cool P. P. S. - sorry if any chapters end kind of weird, this was written as one long thing and then I decided to break it up. Previous|Next

The next few days went by in a blur, nothing particularly out of the ordinary happening. Jeremy continued to ask questions and make comments regarding his new-found knowledge to just about everyone (“Ryan, can you really fly?” “I can’t, personally, but I know a guy who can.” “Is it Trevor?” “No.”), and although he texted you quite a bit, you only saw Trevor once, for a few hours on Thursday afternoon.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I have to go do some stuff for Geoff the next couple days, follow some leads from a few of your dad’s cases, but don’t worry, Lindsay and the guys will take care of you.” He had said, putting his hand on your shoulder and smiling that warm, toothy smile at you.

You had resisted the urge to hug him.

You regretted that.

So now a week had gone by since you first met Geoff & Co. (you refused to call them AH, even in your head, until you figured out what that meant…which would involve asking, but you didn’t feel like that was something you could ask), and it was Sunday, and you were staring up at your bedroom ceiling, trying and failing not to think about Trevor, while Lindsay and Michael sat on your couch in the living room. It was Lindsay’s turn tonight, technically, but since she and Michael are together – something you discovered by accident, but made sense in retrospect – Michael had asked if you minded hosting one more for the night, and you didn’t think you could’ve refused him, even if you wanted to.

There was a soft knock on your open door, and you lifted your head to see Lindsay in the doorway, a soft smile on her face.

“Hey there.” She said, and you grunted in response, waving her in lazily with one hand. You had dropped your illusion, so she could see your wings shimmering around you – everyone except for Jeremy had seen your wings, now, because you’d taken to the fuck it attitude and dropping your illusion as soon as you were safely in your apartment every night. Jeremy had asked not to see them until he got to the book about fae, stating that he wanted to understand before experiencing, which was something that you could appreciate.

“Sup, Lindsay?” You asked, your voice softer than you would’ve liked.

“Nothing. Can I come in?” She asked, and you sat up, nodding.

“Of course you can.” You had grown to really like Lindsay, the valkyrie seeming to understand the weirdness of your situation better than the boys, who seemed to be treating this like just another job, and you like just another friend (which is was, and you hoped that you were, respectively).

Lindsay shut the door behind her softly and sat down next to you on the bed.

“Just got a call from Geoff, Trevor will be back tomorrow, so hopefully this big rotation thing can stop and you’ll get some semblance of normalcy back. He didn’t find anything, which is good, ‘cause that means we’ve narrowed it down to five potential people that could be targeting you and your family. Well, your family through you.” She said, patting your thigh and smiling.

“That’s good,” You said, and you couldn’t tell if you were talking about the Trevor thing or the what Trevor found thing (spoilers: you could tell, and it was the former). You and Lindsay sat there for a moment in silence, and then something registered in your brain, “wait, why will the quote-unquote ‘big rotation thing’ stop?”

Lindsay chuckled, “Well, I mean at least one other person will come to Books and More Books every day, just because of all the customers and the multiple floors, and whatever, but you won’t have to wonder who’s going to be staying with you every night.”

“Yeah, but why would it be Trevor?” You caught the edge of Lindsay’s sly smile before she schooled her face into something more neutral.

“You two seem to get along well, is all.” She said, but you could tell she was holding something back. You debated with yourself whether or not to call her out on it (aka ask her timidly because you didn’t want to upset her) for a few silent moments, ultimately sighing inwardly and deciding against it.

“Alright. Thanks, Lindsay.” You finally muttered, knocking your shoulder against hers gently.

The two of you sat together for a couple more minutes, Lindsay humming to herself and you debating whether or not to tell Lindsay about your crush.

Because it was that – a crush. You admit it. You thought Trevor was handsome, and you knew he could handle himself, and he was funny and super nice and considerate. He kept sending you funny gifs and videos of dogs, especially when he knew that you were up late at the store. He kept popping up in your dreams. You’d taken to only reading books about and/or by vampires for the past week or so, because even though you knew a lot about vampires, Trevor made you want to have it all fresh on your mind.

Maybe it was a little more than a crush.

Lindsay shifted on the bed, and feeling her move jolted you out of your thoughts.

“I think he’s cute.” You blurted out, the words out of your mouth before you had even registered you were saying them, and once you did, your hand smacked over your mouth. Lindsay just stood up and smiled at you.

“I know.” She said, winking at you and then leaving the room, closing the door behind her to leave you alone with your thoughts for a little bit longer before you finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you texted Trevor ‘good morning’ in the morning, right after you texted your mom, and he had responded immediately, saying that he was almost back in town. By the time Jeremy and Gavin had arrived at the store – around eleven – you had begun to get anxious. You had just met Trevor a little over a week ago, now, and then he was gone for a little over three days, and you had just told Lindsay you thought he was cute which was pretty much a confession of love – what if you had imagined it all? What if you were just perceiving the situation (that Trevor was nice and cute and liked your company) the way you were because that’s what you wanted?

You were so wrapped up in your own harrowing freight-train of thought that Gavin had to tug on your shirtsleeve because you were hovering a couple inches off the ground.

“Trevor just got back, he texted me,” Jeremy told you at lunch – today Blaine’s mom had come by and brought enough wings for about twenty people, “he told me to tell you. He has to debrief with Geoff and Lindsay, said he’ll be over soon as he can.” This new information just made you more anxious.

Jeremy must’ve noticed (hell, probably even Blaine noticed and you have to literally hit him on the head to get him to be even the slightest bit observant), because even though you knew he was only about halfway through the important parts of More than Just a Pretty Voice: All About Sirens, but after lunch he had pulled out The Ultimate Guide to Fae: Seelie Edition and began to read from it, instead, probing you with questions every ten minutes or so.

“You’re allergic to iron?” Jeremy nearly shouted in disbelief, shoving his book under your nose. The two of you were on the second floor, Blaine manning the register for a while, because there were quite a few non-human customers that had been asking for assistance and while Blaine stocked the shelves and cleaned the place as much as you did, he didn’t know what books were best for specific needs and types of information.

“Ah, I see you’ve reached the ‘weaknesses’ subsection of the Characteristics chapter,” You said lightly, nodding as you spoke, “yes, Jeremy, I’m allergic to iron. There’s none in my blood, that’s why my blood is blue, because there’s no iron to interact with the oxygen.”

“How do you live? There’s iron everywhere! Silver is easier to get around, and it’s not like I can’t touch it, it doesn’t burn me, but iron?” Jeremy was on the edge of his seat, literally, talking a mile a minute.

“It’s not that hard to get around, Jeremy. And it’s okay if I touch it, it just makes me itchy, like poison ivy or a bug bite.” You explained patiently.

“Damn. Still, though. Does that mean you can’t eat food with iron in it?” He asked.

You shook your head, “When you’re around while I’m eating, does it look like I have dietary restrictions? My body just doesn’t absorb it, it goes right through me, so to speak. I’m sure I’d develop a stomach ache if I only ate iron-rich foods all the time, but for the most part, it just does the same thing as everything else your body can’t process: come out the other end.”

Jeremy made a face at that, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden turn for the worst his interest had taken. He settled back down for a little bit after that, falling silent for a little bit while you helped a customer decide between phoenix books about puberty and adolescence for their son. Once you were done, however, Jeremy was piping up again.

“What kind of wings do you have? Sorry if that’s a rude question, haven’t gotten to the etiquette part yet.”

“Leafy, the long thin kind, not the fat oak- or maple-looking kind.” You responded, knowing exactly what chart he was currently looking at.

“Like this?” He asked, pointing, and sure enough, a drawing of a set of wings that looked a lot like yours was right under his finger. Both the forewing and the hindwing were rather thin in width, the hindwing having a squiggly sort of “leafy” edge to it. The forewings had straighter lines but still rounded at the top and the outer margin had a little bit of a wave to it, like the hindwing. And, true to the wings you knew were on your back but currently invisible, the ones in the book were semi-opaque, glossy, and opalescent in color.

“Yup, just like that. Not exact – wings are like fingerprints – but basically the same.” You agreed before grabbing a duster and cleaning off some shelves to keep yourself busy. Trevor hung in the back of your mind the whole time.

By the time dinner rolled around, you were less anxious about your brain “inflating” Trevor, so to speak, and more anxious (or was it disappointed?) about whether he was going to be there at all. Dinner was leftover wings from lunch, which Blaine had to walk across the street to his apartment to heat up. You didn’t even bother lifting your head from the book you were only half-reading when you heard the door open and the bell chime. Jeremy, however, basically jumped out of his chair, and that combined with Blaine’s call of “Guess who I found?” forced your curiosity to get the better of you.

Lifting your head, you were just in time to see Trevor appear from between the aisles of books. He looked a little worse for wear, with dark shadows under his eyes and a bit of a hunch to his shoulders, and you wondered just how much sleep he’d gotten (you knew vampires didn’t need that much sleep, but they still needed, yanno, sleep).

Beyond the part of you that was suddenly much more concerned about exactly what stuff Trevor had been doing for Geoff more than you had been previously, was the part that was getting all flustered and butterfly-filled from seeing Trevor again.

“Hey, guys!” Trevor said, smiling wide, but the corners were tight. You refrained from using your Sight to see if he needed to feed, because that felt intrusive and you weren’t sure if you could hold back a comment about it.

“Hey, [Y/N]. How are you?” Trevor asked, fingertips resting on the countertop.

“I’m okay, how are you?” You countered, setting your elbows on the counter and resting your head on your hands. You were vaguely aware that Jeremy, Gavin, and Blaine were still there, but they seemed to be talking to each other so you felt a little less bad about ignoring them in favor of talking to Trevor.

“I’m tired, if I’m honest, but I’m okay.” He assured you, tilting his head a little. You spent a couple minutes staring at each other before Gavin dropped a plate full of wings between the two of you.

“Eat up, now, c’mon.” He said, gently shoving both of you one the arm.

You giggled and grabbed a wing, glancing at Trevor, who did the same.

“[Y/N], I’ll close up tonight, go home.” Blaine said a couple hours later.

“Yeah, get going, you kids. We’ve got this.” Jeremy added before you could protest, pointing his finger back and forth at you and Trevor.

You both put up a protest, but Trevor’s was half-hearted and tired and you, honestly, knew that Blaine was more than capable of closing up – he’d done it dozens upon dozens of times, before, so you didn’t really have a solid argument.

“Just tell me when you’re done and home safe, alright?” You asked Blaine, glancing over at Gavin and Jeremy, too, for good measure. Blaine gave a salute, contorting his face into a ridiculous expression.

“Yes ma’am!” He said, and you giggled, grabbing your things and following Trevor out the door.

One relatively quiet drive later, and you and Trevor were standing in your kitchen, Trevor on his phone while you fed Gus. You looked up and, unable to resist any longer, you blinked a little bit and focused. Sure enough, Trevor’s aura had darkened considerably, the edges being almost black.

That was not good.

You couldn’t help but be a bit angry at Geoff – if Trevor had been in a meeting with Geoff before coming down to Books and More Books, Geoff surely would’ve noticed, and should have felt obligated to make Trevor feed before sending him over.

“Okay,” You said, sighing as you leaned against the counter and capped the fish food container, “what do you prefer?”

“Hmm?” Trevor asked, instantly looking up from his phone and setting it on the table when you spoke.

“What do you prefer? I have the Sight, Trevor. I don’t want to pry into your life, but what I See is concerning.” You watched as Trevor’s smile dropped as you spoke, and your stomach turned to lead. Did you step too far?

“I don’t – it’s hard when it’s cold.” Trevor admitted, finally, bowing his head and then glancing up at you through his lashes, and you instantly felt a little better.

Okay, didn’t step too far.

“There’s a bar a couple blocks away. Mica – she’s my friend – is friends with the owner. They can do fresh and warm.” You purposely left out the word – blood – because Trevor left it out, and you felt like something was new here, like the two of you were treading on thin ice, and you ignored that the obvious response to that metaphor was for you to use your wings and float away.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea if we go to a Blood Bar. Because I’m not leaving you alone, and it’s not a good idea for you to go to a Blood Bar.” Trevor gazed at you, something a little thick in his voice, and you shook your head.

“That’s not a problem. Let me just call Mica, yeah? They deliver. Or, at least, they will if she asks them to.” You insisted, resisting the urge to slide your hands across the table to cover his own, or place a hand on his arm, or anything, because although Trevor was still Trevor, he was hungry, and while you knew that without any iron, the blood in your veins did little to nothing for vampires, and while deep down, you knew Trevor wouldn’t hurt you, the way Trevor was standing – shoulders hunch forward, back bent, head low, elbows locked – made you think that Trevor wasn’t sure if Trevor wouldn’t hurt you.

A phone call and about twenty minutes later, and Mica herself was buzzed in and standing on your doorstep. Trevor darted for the door before you could even get up off the couch, and while he didn’t hide you like Michael and Ryan would, he was very clearly, very purposely in the way of anyone who may be on the other side of the door.

“Hey there! You must be the famous Trevor. I’m Mica, here’s your stuff, hot off the press.” She handed an insulated lunch bag to Trevor, who took it from her with a nod.

“Nice to meet you too.” He said, offering a smile. Mica craned her neck around his lanky frame and threw up finger guns in your direction.

“Hey [Y/N], Kovic says hi!” She said to you, and you scoffed a little, but not in a necessarily bad way.

“Thanks for helping, Mica. This was the easiest solution, so I appreciate you pausing whatever you were doing for us.” You couldn’t not notice the way that Trevor stiffened a little at the word “us,” but tried to ignore it.

“Anything for you, girl, you know.” She said, saying her goodbyes and striding back down the hall with a wave. As soon as the door was closed and locked, Trevor took three long strides into the kitchen.

“Do you –” You cut yourself off, then started again, and you could hear how timid you sounded, “Do you want me to leave?”

Trevor whipped up to look at you, eyes wide, “Oh, [Y/N], if it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay, you can go to bed, I don’t mind.”

“Well I don’t mind, it’s not uncomfortable, I just wasn’t sure if it – I don’t know, I know some people are weird about it. I didn’t know if you were…particular, or whatever.” You reassured, following him into the kitchen and placing a hand on the counter, again resisting the urge to reach out and physically touch him to try and provide comfort, for as much as you wanted to, you were too worried about him, about making sure he was okay, to try anything new or different.

“Okay. Why don’t I put some of this in a mug and then we can watch some TV or something?” Trevor offered, smiling uncertainly at you, which you immediately responded with a beaming grin of your own.

The whole thing made you feel weird, and as you walked over to the couch and settled down, logging into Netflix, you couldn’t help but realize that you weren’t afraid of Trevor, however much your instincts were sort-of, kind-of telling you that you should. Trevor was settling beside you a few moments later, and while the smell of blood wasn’t your favorite, you made painfully sure not to let it show, and when you could see the tips of little white fangs poking out over Trevor’s bottom lip as he took a sip, you didn’t stare, instead just shifting your gaze over to the television, where you were debating what kind of show you wanted to watch. You ultimately decided on a home-buying show, confident that the ability to make fun of and/or yell at the people on the show would dissolve the weirdness in the room. And it did, episodes passed, Trevor got up to wash out his mug and came back with two steaming cups of tea (you took yours gratefully), and sooner than you would’ve liked, you could feel your eyes drooping. It didn’t help that now that Trevor had fed, he was a nice just-below-room-temperature, and every time your shoulders brushed or your knees knocked together felt really, really nice on your skin, especially after hanging out near Jeremy all day, who radiated heat like a campfire.

“Getting sleepy?” Trevor asked quietly, a hint of teasing in his voice, and you scrunched your eyes shut for a second and rubbed them to try to gain focus back.

“Nah.” You lied, but it was punctured by a yawn, making both you and Trevor laugh.

“C’mon, we should go to bed, it’s late.” Trevor insisted, pushing gently at your shoulder, and you squashed down the little flutter in your heart at the way Trevor said we instead of you.

You begrudgingly rose to your feet, “Fine, fine. I changed the sheets on the air mattress this morning, but if you need extra blankets, they’re in the closet in the hall, and you can take pillows from the couch and the chairs if you need more of those.” You told him as you half-walked, half-floated to your room, Trevor’s cool hands on your shoulders pushing you along.

“Got it, thanks, [Y/N]. Goodnight.” He said, smiling at you and shutting your bedroom door behind him. You quickly changed and flopped down on your bed, asleep the moment your head hit your pillow.

#rt reader insert #ragehappy #trevor x reader #trevor c x reader #rt imagine #modern fantasy au #supernatural au #they talk about drinking blood in this part #and then someone actually does #(they're a vampire tho so its ok)

25 notes · View notes

lenfaz · 7 years

Text

Time Upon Once, Ch. 5 (5/?)

Summary: Killian Jones is a bailbonds man, living in Boston and doing his own thing. But on his 29th birthday, a kid knocks on his door and claims to be his son. What happens when Killian is forced to face his past along with a mystery prophecy about his own purpose in life?

Rating: M (eventually)

A huge thank you to @tnlph @businesscasualprincess and @blessed-but-distressed for beta duties and @shady-swan-jones for the banner!

I really want to dedicate this chapter to @tnlph on the upcoming occasion of the birthday. thank you Sarah, for being such a great support alway <3

Tagging a few people that showed interest in this story: @lk0622 @nowforruin @sambethe @xemmaloveskillianx @l-e-x-a-xd @profoundlyfadedprincess @once-uponacaptain @icecubelotr44 @poetic-justice-96 @allietumbles (want to be tagged? let me know and I’ll do it)

on Tumblr: I II III IV

ao3 ff.net

A/N; this is like 8.5k

Chapter V

“We need code names,” Henry announced the next morning as they were walking towards the school bus stop. Killian had spent half of the night tossing and turning in his - new and quite comfortable - bed, debating whether or not he should be antagonizing Regina so publicly by walking the lad to the bus. He knew he should lay low, set some boundaries, and try to maintain his distance.

But he didn’t want to.

It had been the entire purpose of his stay to ensure Henry’s well-being - he could now add helping Mary Margaret overcome her disappointment to that list - and Killian couldn’t do that if he was hiding out in Mary Margaret’s guest room. So he was done hiding. Regina could come looking for him if she wanted to and perhaps - perhaps- he could explain again what his purpose was.

“Isn’t ‘Cobra’ our code name?” Killian asked, confused.

“That’s the mission. I mean us. I need something to call you.” Henry’s voice was small at the end, his eyes darting insecurely to Killian and he knew the lad wasn’t talking just about the mission. He swallowed hard, clenching his jaw and fighting with himself against the urge to give Henry what he wanted so desperately. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

“How about you call me Killian for now?” The disappointment on Henry’s face almost tore him apart. How many times could a heart break and still work? Killian’s heart had broken a decade ago, but then it had remained dormant for such long time he’d almost forgotten how it felt when the pain reached inside him and made it almost impossible to breathe. Yet, in the last three days his heart had been awoken, and quickly resumed its usual task of bringing him nothing but ache at every single decision he made.

Henry nodded, his head hanging low in defeat for a brief second. But he was a brave lad, his boy - Emma’s boy- and Killian could see the kid’s walls building back up before he gave Killian a dashing smile. “Okay, then. I’ll see you later, Killian.” The last word might have been his name, but the intent in which he pronounced left nothing to his imagination. He could hear the word Henry wanted to say resonating in his mind as the lad hopped on the bus.

It was only the sirens of the patrol car what shook Killian out of his musings, as it sped past him, before turning abruptly into the mouth of the alley in front of him. It stopped there, and the sheriff stepped out, his sights set on Killian.

“Was the siren really needed? Do you feel the need to overcompensate for something, mate?” Killian asked, cocking an eyebrow at the sheriff. Perhaps he shouldn’t be pulling Graham’s leg like this, but he needed a distraction from his own mind.

“Funny, Jones.” Graham shrugged. “I just felt it was a good way to get your attention, you seemed a little lost in your own thoughts back there.”

Killian didn’t appreciate the way Graham was able to read his mood so quickly. “Are you arresting me again? Did the Mayor found another local ordinance I’m infringing? It can’t be a law against leather jackets,” he said, pointing out Graham’s attire. “Unless it’s against black ones?”

Graham chuckled and let a few moments pass. “Are you done?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow and Killian nodded. “I’m here to thank you. For your help finding that coma patient. We all owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Killian couldn’t believe his ears, but Graham’s tone was sincere. It made him uncomfortable and he simply resorted to his usual method to avoid any type of closeness to people. “What do I get? A beer at the local ratty bar and a chance to play your wingman as you try to get a date?”

“How about a job?” That clearly got Killian’s attention. “I could use a deputy.”

Bloody hell.

“I have a job, mate.”

“There isn’t much bail bonds work going on here.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much sheriffing going on either, if you can spend all this time chasing after the newcomer in town,” Killian pointed out.

“There’s work to do around here and, honestly, I could use someone like you at the station.”

“Someone like me?” Killian cocked an eyebrow at him - this was fast becoming an eyebrow-cocking contest, he noted -, not sure if he liked the implication of Graham’s words.

Graham lift his hands in a placating manner. “You’re street smart, and you think fast on your feet. Those are helpful traits to have in a deputy.” He reached for his wallet, pulled out a card and handed it over to Killian. “How about you think about it? It might be your chance to stay put for a while.” He nodded and took a step back, heading back to the driver’s seat of the patrol car.

Killian stood there, contemplating the card that he held in his fingers, a strange sensation running through him.

/-/

After leaving Henry on the bus, and for the lack of something - anything - better to do, Killian sat at Granny’s, perusing the local newspaper, a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon in front of him. Clearly this was Small Town America ™ if the awakening of the coma patient had made the front page headline.

The doorbell jingled and he heard the distinctive click-clack of designer heels on the linoleum that could only announce the arrival of one person. “How was your walk with Henry?” Regina asked, waiting a heartbeat to give him a knowingly smile. “That’s right – I know everything. But relax. I don’t mind,” she finished almost smugly as she sat down opposite him at the table.

“You don’t?” Killian asked warily, the change in Regina’s attitude raising goosebumps on him.

“Because you no longer worry me, Mr. Jones,” she announced nonchalantly. “I did a little digging into who you are. And what I found well, let’s say it was quite soothing.”

He swallowed hard, his voice almost breaking at the words he spoke. “It was?”

“It all comes down to one simple number: Seven.”

“Seven?” Killian had an idea where this was going, but he still refused to let her see it was affecting him. He’d been masking his feelings for more than a decade, he could certainly put up a mask for the adoptive mother of his son.

“It’s the number of addresses you’ve had in the last decade. Your longest stay in a place was two years.” Regina quirked an eyebrow, as if she was rejoicing in the conversation. “Really, what did you enjoy so much about Portland, Oregon?”

It wasn’t a what. It was who I was looking for.

He clenched his jaw, feigning indifference to her words as he played with the newspaper. “I have found accommodations in town,” he said in a small voice, almost ruminating the words.

“With Miss Blanchard?” Regina gave him a condescending chuckle. “That is going to grow old quickly, don’t you think? She doesn't seem like the type to catch your attention for long.”

He wasn’t sure which one she wanted to insult more with those insinuations, if his lack of commitment to a romantic relationship- or any type of bond, for that matter - or Mary Margaret’s inability to find someone that cared for her.

“That is not what this is-” he started to defend himself, but Regina cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“You still don’t have a lease. There’s nothing tying you here.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on the chair. “In order for something to grow, Mr. Jones, it needs roots. And you? You don’t have any. People don’t change. They only fool themselves into believing they can.”

“You don’t know me,” he said calmly, trying very hard not to let his emotions get the best of him.

“No, I think I do. All I ask is, as you carry on your transient life, you think of Henry and what’s best for him. Perhaps consider a clean break. It’s going to happen anyway.” She stood up, pleased with her words. “Enjoy your cocoa.”

“I’m here for Henry,” he said, hating the pleading tone in his voice. “Look, I’m not trying to do anything- I just want to help,” he finished, his eyes almost begging her to show some compassion.

But it seemed compassion was not on the list of Regina’s personality traits as she gave him one last look. “Sometimes I wonder… exactly how long did it take you to walk away from the mother of your child after you found out she was pregnant?”

He didn’t realize he’d punched the table with his fist until he felt the warm liquid of his cocoa splashing against his shirt. Ruby rushed to him with a cloth, but his button down was already past saving.

He sighed, his anger quickly turning to frustration with himself. “Do you have a laundry room I can use?”

After Ruby pointed him down the corridor, he wasted no time in making his way there, removing his black leather jacket and tossing it over the washing machines as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in in one of the available ones. He looked around for something to wear, his eyes landing on a light blue shirt hanging on a line. He hadn’t stolen clothes in twelve years, but bloody hell, old habits die hard, and it seemed today was not the day in which he was raising the bar.

It was only once he’d pulled the shirt over his shoulders that he noticed the wrecked sobs coming from somewhere behind him. He whirled around, hastily buttoning the shirt, to see a young girl sobbing in the corner while holding an armful of pink sheets.

“Are you okay, darling?” he asked politely.

“They’re pink,” she sobbed.

“Have you tried bleach?” he pointed out the obvious while trying to focus on his own things. It wasn’t like he wanted to get involved in yet another thing in this town. The girl shifted and it was then that he noticed her swollen belly. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, a sensation of dread rising in his throat.

“Oh,” he whispered.

“Last night, I felt contractions and the doctor said that the baby could come any day now,” she said.

He turned around, pouring soap and activating the washing machine, trying to battle the memories and sensations that were coming to him.

“Wonderful,” he offered in a small voice.

“It’s just that, um, when the… When the baby comes, no one thinks that I can do this. No one thinks I can do anything. Maybe they’re right,” she sounded so young and small and broken that it broke Killian’s heart in return.

He’d often wondered how Emma had felt when faced with the challenge of being pregnant at such young age, if she’d sounded like this when she decided she couldn’t do it.

He slowly turned to face the girl. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” she answered.

Killian gave her a small smile. “I was the same age. Henry’s mother - biological mother - was eighteen.”

There was surprise in the girl’s look and Killian gave her a reassuring nod. He didn’t want to relive the moments that led to his decision to consent to the adoption, the pain and regret still soaking deep within his bones; but perhaps something good would come out of all that. At least he could help someone else.

“Everyone will have an opinion, lass. They will tell you what you’re capable of and what you’re incapable of - especially if you’re with child. But ultimately, the decision is yours: whether you keep it or you decide to give it up for adoption.”

“It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“It never is,” Killian sighed, running his head through his hair. “But if you want things to change, you have change them yourself. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets --- that’s what my Papa used to say.” He gave her a final reassuring smile before he finished rolling up the sleeves of his borrowed shirt and grabbed his black leather jacket.

/-/

The rest of the day had gone by relatively uneventfully and the next morning finally brought to town the three boxes he’d asked his coworker to pack and send his way. He’d had to drive out to the nearest town to pick them up, as they didn’t have direct deliveries to Storybrooke, but nevertheless, it gave Killian a new sense of security.

He sat on the floor, his hands caressing the box that held his fondest trinkets and tokens, including his embroidered baby blanket - the one thing he had from when he’d been found as an infant.

“It feels so bloody good to have my things here,” he commented, as Mary Margaret came to stand next to him, setting a plate of snacks down on the table.

“That’s it?” she asked curiously.

“What do you mean?” Killian asked, getting a little defensive.

“Is the rest in storage, or is this really everything?”

“This is all of it,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair and reaching to scratch behind his ear. He’d been so used to keep his things to minimal possessions, so used to moving from one place to the next without time or space to carry much, that it’d been something that had stuck, even at an older age. Besides, he didn’t need to carry much, nothing was meaningful enough for him not to leave behind. “I’m not sentimental,” he offered as small explanation, hoping Mary Margaret was able to read between the lines and drop it.

She did. “I guess it makes it easier when you have to move,” she provided in return, a soft and understanding smile on her lips that made Killian feel better almost immediately.

There came a knock at the door, a development which seemed to confuse Mary Margaret - it seemed she wasn’t used to visitors on the weekends - and her confusion seemed to only grow when she answered the door.

“Miss Blanchard,” a voice that Killian couldn’t recognize said. “Would Mr. Jones be at home?”

The sound of his name made Killian stand up and quickly stride to the door, coming face to face with their visitor. He remembered him from the first night he’d spent at Granny’s, the man that was there to collect the rent. Killian had learnt later that he owned a pawn shop - and half of the town apparently.

“My name is Mr. Gold,” the man introduced himself, extending his hand. Killian took it and give it a firm shake, not liking the way it made him feel, as if something dark and poisonous had entered the room.

“I remember,” he said shortly, standing by the door and waiting for the other man to explain the reason of his appearance at his doorstep - well, Mary Margaret’s doorstep.

“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Jones,” he started, a small and polite smile coming to his lips. “I - I need your help. I’m looking for someone.” There was shyness and self-deprecation in his tone, but Killian didn’t buy it. You didn’t end up owning most of the town with niceties.

“Really?” he asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest in a protective stance, his eyes darting to Mary Margaret. She looked from him to Gold for a quick minute before she spoke again.

“You know what?” Mary Margaret said, sensing the mood shifting in the room. “I’m going to - jump in the bath, or something.” She was out of the open space and hidden in the bathroom in no time, and Killian had to admire how quickly she’d been to get the bloody hell out of the situation.

“I have a photo,” Gold said as he pulled a folded picture from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. It was only then that Killian noticed the cane he had - he seemed to briefly recollect seeing it the night he met him. He opened the door wider and allowed the man to enter the loft, and his hand closing on the photograph Gold gave him. His eyebrows shot in surprise as he recognized the young girl he met yesterday in the laundry room.

“Her name is Ashley Boyd. And she’s taken something quite valuable of mine,” Gold finished.

“Why don’t you go to the police?” Killian asked, his hand tracing the photograph as he closed the door and turned to face Gold.

“Because, uh… She’s a confused young woman. She’s pregnant. Alone and scared. I don’t want to ruin this young girl’s life. But I just want my property returned.” There was something off about the man. Killian couldn’t tell for certain he was lying, but something wasn’t right.

“What is it?” he asked curiously. Whatever it was, it had made Ashley desperate enough to break into the shop whilst nine months pregnant, and clearly Gold cared enough to have her tracked down for it.

Gold looked behind him, as if he were making sure that Mary Margaret hadn’t materialized all of the sudden. “Well, one of the advantages of you not being the police is discretion. Let’s just say it’s a precious object and leave it at that.”

Oh, and the plot thickens.

“When did you see her last?” He could do this, he could get technical and professional in his questions and not get attached. It was just a potential case, after all.

“Last night. That’s how I got this.” He lifted his hair to show Killian a bruise and small cut on his forehead. “It’s so unlike her. She was quite wound up. Rambling on and on about fighting for what she wanted. I have no idea what got into her.”

Bloody hell. Amazing job, mate.

Gold looked at him expectantly, “Mr. Jones, please help me find her. My only other choice is the police, and I don’t think anyone wants to see that baby born in jail now, do they?”

Buggering hell. There goes keeping unattached, Killian thought, his mind playing scenarios for him he didn’t really want to revisit.

“No, of course not. No one should go through that if it can be avoided,” Killian said, clearing his throat.

“You’ll help me then?” Gold asked eagerly. Killian still didn’t like the man. He knew it was an act, but yet he couldn’t pinpoint what the angle was.

“I’ll help her,” he clarified, his hand still holding the photograph.

He didn’t have time to read Gold’s quirked smile before he got distracted by the door opening suddenly behind them.

“Hey, Killian. I was thinking we-”

The face on Henry when he spotted Gold was priceless. Killian would feel bad for the lad if he didn’t think this was a good lesson for him to learn. Never show up unannounced, especially when you’re sneaking in and everyone knows who your mother is. Henry still had a lot to learn, it seemed. Killian just wasn’t sure those were things he should be teaching him.

“Hey Henry, how are you?” Gold asked cheerily and Killian liked the man even less.

“Okay?”

“Good,” Gold said, as he started towards the door. “Give my regards to your mother. And, good luck, Mr. Jones.”

Killian nodded and watched the man leave, before moving on to finding a change of clothes from one of the boxes.

“Do you know who that is?” Henry asked

“Yeah, I do now,” Killian said, digging out a blue Henley and a pair of combat boots.

“Who? Cause I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Oh.

“I meant in real Storybrooke,” Killian said shrugging.

Henry noticed the boxes, his head tilting to the side. “Is that all you brought?” There was something in his voice that made Killian feel undeserving, as if he were coming up short somehow. It was a very familiar feeling that he didn’t like to revisit. Not from Henry.

“What are you doing here, lad?” he asked in a clipped tone.

“My mom’s gone til five. I thought we could hang out.”

He wanted to, he really did. But right now, there was a very confused pregnant woman for which Killian felt responsible. Not to mention, there would probably be a paycheck in it for him if he found her. And he could use the money as he wasn’t planning on living off Mary Margaret’s hospitality for free much longer. He wanted to at least contribute with his share of the rent and groceries. “I wish I could. But there’s something I have to do.”

/-/

Henry had persistently followed him outside the house and into the Bug, pleading to be part of Killian’s search. He’d refused at first, claiming it would be dangerous, but that only seemed to increase the boy’s enthusiasm. Killian felt cornered, a frustrated sigh coming to his lips when Henry pulled the one card that he knew would have him caving; a small voice claiming that he just wanted to spent time with him. He shook his head all the while he and Henry climbed into the car, wondering how he’d been bested by a ten year old. Then he turned on the ignition, and they got to work.

He decided to start with Ruby, as he’d heard she and Ashley were close. Ruby wasn’t much help - he could tell she was purposely keeping herself busy and avoiding his questioning - and only had only filled him in a little on the situation before she got sidetracked by the local mechanic delivering her car back. There had evidently been some damage to the crystal wolf she had hanging on from her rearview mirror. She seemed quite attached to the token - and the mechanic - and Killian had to clear his throat once or twice to get her attention back.

“Do you think her boyfriend might be involved in all this?” he asked blatantly.

Ruby rose an eyebrow in a dismissive manner. “Uh, let me think: that would mean he’s involved with her at all, which he isn’t. He left her in the lurch, right after they found out they were expecting. Hasn’t spoken to her since.” She stood tall and proud, a menacing expression in her features, as if she were judging him as much as she was judging Ashley's boyfriend. “I’m pretty sure that’s what you did.”

The barb hit him hard in the chest, the painful memories surfacing once again. He didn’t appreciate her tone - or her judgement - especially not in front of Henry, who still didn’t know the circumstances that led to his adoption. Henry hadn’t asked and Killian hadn’t told him, and he wasn’t planning to, not anytime soon. Some things were better left buried. Nevertheless, it wasn’t Ruby’s place to make any assumptions about him on the mere basis that she was pissed off at how her friend had been treated.

“Actually no,” he said in a clipped tone, a defiant look coming to his eyes. “Not at all.”

Ruby seemed to realize how her words had affected him and she gave him a sheepish smile. Killian took the chance to pressure for more information. “What about her family?”

“She has a stepmother and two stepsisters that don’t speak to her. There’s nothing there…” she trailed off.

“Stepmother? Stepsisters? Wait!” Henry said and Killian could spot a mile away what he was going to say next. No, the lass was not Cinderella. No bloody way.

“Not now, Henry,” he commanded before he gave Ruby another pointed look.

Ruby shuffled her feet a little, genuine care and concern in her features. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s wrong. Everyone thinks she’s not ready to have this kid, but she’s trying. Taking night classes, trying to better herself… Trying to get her life together. Can you understand that?”

“Aye, I can,” Killian sighed.

“Then maybe you should leave her alone. She’s been through so much already.”

“I just want to help her, Ruby,” Killian pleaded and Ruby’s face softened.

“Then try her ex. He lives with his dad.”

Of course he does.

/-/

By the looks of the house, Sean and his family lived a comfortable life, and one more piece of the puzzle fit in Killian’s mind. He knocked on the door and waited politely. A young man answered, he couldn’t have been more than nineteen - much like Killian when Henry was conceived.

“Sean Herman?”

Sean nodded. “Who are you?”

“I’m Killian Jones,” he introduced himself. “I’m looking for Ashley? She seems to be in quite a predicament and I thought she might have come looking for you-”

“My son doesn’t have anything to do with that girl anymore,” a commanding voice spoke from the entryway to the garage and Killian turned to see a man that must have been Sean’s father coming their way. Well, that certainly explained a lot.

“You forced him to break up with her,” Killian didn’t even bother to pose it as a question, it was quite clear from where he was standing how the situation had unfolded.

“I’m not going to let my son throw away his entire life over a mistake.” The man stood next to his son, drunk on his privilege and self-righteousness. It made Killian sick to his stomach to even think what Ashley might have gone through.

“And the right choice was to leave her to fend for herself?”

“What are they going to do? Raise the child in the backseat of a car?” he asked sardonically.

I’d have gladly raised mine in the back seat of the Bug if I’d had the chance.

“Some people only have that,” he said feebly.

“And that’s a pity on them, but I’m not letting that happen to my son. I’m protecting him. It’s sad that others don’t have that, but it’s the way of the world.”

Killian wanted to punch him. It would be so easy to clench his fist and just connect with the man’s jaw, letting actions explain the frustration and rage he was feeling right now. But as mad as he was at that moment, he knew most of it had nothing to do with Sean’s father. It was the memories that this was bringing to the surface, leaving him raw.

“Dad, maybe we should help him look for Ashley. If she’s in danger-” Sean started, and a small flicker of hope lit in Killian, maybe not all was lost.

But it was soon put to an end by Sean’s father. “It’s a waste, Sean.” She’s a waste.

“Sean, if you want to come, come. Ashley runs away with this baby, she’s going to be in some serious trouble. You should fight for what you want, lad,” He pleaded, giving Sean one chance to do the right thing, his heart beating frantically in his heart. “Lad, trust me, you want to be part of this. I know I would do everything to have been able to be there for the mother of my child.”

It didn’t work. Sean’s father ordered him inside and Sean obeyed defeatedly. Once Sean was out of earshot, his father faced Killian again, showing a little concern in his demeanor. “Believe me, if I knew where she was, I would tell you. I went to a lot of trouble to get her that deal.”

“Deal? What deal?” he asked confused. No one had mentioned any deals to him.

“You don’t know? Ashley agreed to give up the child. And she’s being paid very well to do so,” he explained, giving Killian a puzzled look.

Killian’s heart dropped to pit of his stomach, leaving him almost nauseous. “She sold the baby?”

“You make it sound so crass. I found someone who’s going to find that child a good and proper home. Something it wouldn’t have otherwise.” He sounded so sure of the choices he was making that it made Killian want to punch him again.

“Who are you to judge whether she could provide that or not?”

“Look at her. She’s a teenager. She’s never shown any evidence of being responsible. How could she possibly know how to be a mother?”

“You don’t get to decide for her. Maybe all she needs is a chance to prove herself,” Killian said, holding his ground.

“That’s what everybody says and it never works out that way. It’s the way life is, Mr. Jones. You should know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you?” Sean’s father gave him a pointed look. “I found someone who’s going to pay Ashley extremely well. Someone who’s going to see to it that everybody’s happy.”

And the final piece of the puzzle finally clicked on Killian’s head. “Gold,” he all but spat the name.

“Well, isn’t that why you were hired? To bring him the baby?”

Bloody buggering hell.

/-/

The thoughts were tripping in his head as he drove hastily back to the diner, the picture forming in his mind as to what was happening. He wondered if this is how Emma had felt then, if she’d had people telling her she couldn’t do it, that she was too young, too broken to take care of a child. He wondered if him being there next to her would have made a difference. The words from her letter still haunted him.

We can’t do this, Killian. I can’t do this. He deserves better than the life we can give him. He deserves better than being raised by two screw-ups who can’t get it right. Let’s give him the chance you and I never truly had.

He’d ceded to her wishes there, holding onto the hope that she’d been right, that their son would have a better life. But as he looked at Henry, pleading for him not to double cross Gold, a ten-year old that lived in a fantasy world and ran away from his mother any chance he got, he was starting to doubt himself.

Oh, lass, perhaps we made the biggest mistake of our lives.

He barged into the diner and confronted Ruby directly, not really in the mood to sugar-coat this any longer: he was tired, this case had gotten him way over his head and he really needed a drink - or five - right now.

“Why didn’t you tell me she sold the baby?” he asked bluntly.

“Because I didn’t think it was important,” Ruby shrugged and moved to clear one of the tables in an attempt to dismiss him. But Killian followed her and held his ground.

“Really? Because it seems that’s the reason why she’s running away.”

“Look, she’s my friend. I don’t like people judging her.”

There was truth in her words, but not all of it. Killian could tell she was hiding something from him. He scanned the room, stopping short when he spotted the little crystal wolf charm resting on one of the counters. He turned to check the street and noticed that Ruby’s car had disappeared.

“Ruby,” he said, clenching his jaw to try to reign in his temper. “Where’s your car?” Ruby’s expression was all the answer he needed. “You didn’t send me to Sean to help me find her, did you? You just wanted to give her a head start,” he concluded.

“I’m trying to help her,” Ruby insisted stubbornly, and Killian felt himself at the end of his patience.

“So do I. She’s in more trouble than you think, lass and I don’t want her to deal with Gold on her own,” he pleaded.

Ruby hesitated, but her eyes quickly darted to Henry. “I won’t talk in front of him. He’s the Mayor’s son.”

“Hey! I’m on your side!” Henry protested but Killian knew he’d never get anything out of Ruby if Henry was still there. He gave a sign to Ruby to give him a moment alone with Henry and he crouched to meet the lad’s eyes.

“Lad, I need to find Ashley. And for that to happen, you need to go home. Ruby is not going to trust me with any valuable information if you’re around. Go home, please.”

Henry looked at him for a brief second and then nodded. “Okay,” he said and turned around. That had been too easy and part of Killian protested that it didn’t seem realistic for Henry to accept his command so easily - he never had before - but at the moment he had more pressing matters to attend to, and he wasn’t going to kick a gift horse in the mouth. He waited expectantly for Ruby to come back. She placed a used dish on the counter and turned to back to face him.

“She left town. Said she was going to try Boston. Thought she could disappear there.”

Boston. He could track her down in Boston. It was his city after all.

“How long ago?”

“About half an hour.”

/-/

He should have listened to his bloody instincts around Henry instead of accepting the lad’s willingness to leave. Which had only ever been a ruse, as Henry climbed out from the trunk of the Bug and demanded to know what Ruby had said. Killian wanted to kick himself over and over. The lad was his and Emma’s son, for bloody sake, of course he wouldn’t listen to any order he was given and would just do whatever in the blazes he felt like doing.

He suddenly had a new respect for his late parents and every single foster family - albeit not many - that had tried to order him around and failed.

“Henry!” he admonished. “I’m going to Boston. You can’t come with me.”

“You can’t go to Boston! She can’t leave,” Henry said agitated. “Bad things happen to anyone who does. It’s the curse.”

Bloody curse. “Lad, I don’t have time to argue with you over the curse. I have to drive you home and then I need to find Ashley before she gets in more trouble than she already is!”

“We need to reach her before she gets hurt!” Henry sounded so convinced. “If you turn back to take me home, we might not make it in time. And Gold might call the police and he’ll send her to jail.”

The thought of Ashley giving birth in jail was too much for Killian’s fragile state of mind. He’d have to deal with Regina’s rage later if she ever found out about Henry going with him. “Buckle up, lad.”

It didn’t take them long to find the car, and Killian had to fight the sense of dread when he saw it that it was crashed in a ditch by the town sign.

“Ashley!” Killian called for her as he exited the Bug and ran towards the other car. But the lass wasn’t there. “What have you done, lass?” he asked. It was then he heard the scream nearby, and he ran in the direction of the sound. He found her lying in a patch of weeds by the side of the road, taking deep, shuddering breaths.

“My baby!” she said, voice laced with pain. “It’s coming!”

Brilliant.

He managed to carefully help Ashley get back into the passenger seat of her car, ushered Henry on the backseat, before they set off for the hospital.

“Breathe, lass, we’ll be in the hospital in no time,” he tried to offer soothing words, but it only seemed to agitate Ashley even more.

“No! Please! Take me to Boston, I can’t go back there.”

“I don’t think we have the time to make it to Boston, Ashley,” he said. He didn’t have much experience in the matter, but it did seem like the baby was coming now.

“He’s going to take my baby,” Ashley sobbed in between contractions and Killian’s heart went out to her.

“I won’t let them take that baby away from you if you want it,” he said fervently, his eyes fixated on the road, trying to make up now for the mistakes of his past. “If you keep it, are you ready? If -” his voice broke and he wished Henry weren’t there to see him admit to his own shortcomings. “I know I wasn’t, and neither was Henry’s mother. If you want to give the child its best chance, you have to be ready. The baby will need someone that is ready, someone who accepts that their whole life is going to change, and that they can’t never - ever - leave. No more running. Time to grow up.” He looked back at Ashley in the rearview, waiting for his words to sink in and giving her time to ponder them.

“I’m ready,” she said finally, her tone determined. “I want my baby.”

Aye, and I’ll make sure you’ll have it.

/-/

Killian paced back and forth in the hospital waiting room, running his hand through his hair. He’d offered wondered who - if anyone - had driven Emma to the hospital. If someone had held her hand as she went through labor. Told her she was bloody brilliant and she could do anything.

If someone had been for her in all the ways he couldn’t.

“You know,” Henry’s voice took him out of his own head - he’d been doing that a lot lately - and made him stop. “You’re different.”

“I am?” he asked with confusion.

“You’re the only one who could do it,” he offered whimsically.

“Break the curse? You keep telling me that. I’m aware, lad,” Killian sighed.

Henry shook his head. “No, leave. You’re the only one that can leave Storybrooke.” He seemed so small and insecure when he pronounced the words.

Killian crouched to his eye-level and gave him a small smile. “You came to Boston looking for me, lad.”

“But I came back. I had to. I’m ten,” he pointed out. “But if anyone else tries to leave, bad things happen to them.”

There was something else hidden in there and Killian was starting to read between the lines. “Anyone but me?”

“You’re the savior, Killian. You can do anything you want,” his voice was broken with despair. “You can leave Storybrooke,” he finished shyly but Killian could hear the words he didn’t say.

You can leave me.

He was about to speak, trying to figure out how to address the fear he saw in Henry’s eyes -a fear that was so familiar to him, the one that had been with him for his entire life- when one of the doctors approached him. He quickly stood up.

“Mr. Jones, the baby is a healthy six-pound girl and the mother is doing fine,” the doctor confirmed.

The small relief he’d felt soon vanished when he saw Mr. Gold round the corner, the tap of his cane marking his approach.

“What lovely news. Excellent work, Mr. Jones,” he said in a voice that was dark and made a shiver ran down Killian’s spine. “Thank you for bringing me my merchandise.”

He couldn’t believe a baby was being referred in such terms. He should have known better, as most of his life he’d been treated as a nuisance, an object, nothing but a number, a case to address. It hurt then - it still hurt now - and he refused to treat another child like that. “A baby. Your merchandise… You should have told me.”

“You didn’t need to know at the time,” Gold replied smugly.

“Perhaps you feared I wouldn’t have taken the case?” He would have anyway, if not for Gold, just to try to help the poor girl.

“On the contrary,” the other man pointed out, circling the waiting room with his steps, the cane making a metallic sound against the floor, “I thought it would be more effective if you found out yourself. After seeing Ashley’s hard life, I thought it would make sense. Do you? I mean, if anyone could understand the reasons behind consenting to give up a baby, I assumed it would be you.”

He really didn’t want to have this conversation near Henry. He knew how fragile Henry’s state already was, their most recent conversation just now revealing a whole new layer of fears the lad held, and Killian wanted to spare the child this ordeal. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with Henry. He wasn’t ready to have it. But what was done was done and he needed to focus on what he could try to fix.

“You’re not getting your hands on that infant,” he insisted.

“We have an agreement and my agreements are always honored. If not, I’ll involve the police and that baby ends up in the system. Which would be a pity, don’t you think? You didn’t enjoy your time in the system, did you, Mr. Jones?” There was something really dark in that man, something that made Killian want to recoil, but he knew he couldn’t. If he didn’t protect Ashley and her baby now, no one would. She’d lose her baby girl. She’d lose hope. He had lost hope years ago but he’ll be damned if he let someone else lose it when he could have prevented it.

“It’s not going to happen,” he stated.

“I like your confidence. Charming,” Gold said, his eyebrow raising on the last word. “But I’ll press charges for her breaking into my shop,” he threatened with a polite smile.

Killian didn’t balk. “Probably to steal the contract, right?”

Gold shrugged, “Who knows?”

Killian tilted his head. He hated men like Gold. He really did. They were the embodiment of everything he despised growing up, of every bully that had taken advantage of someone that was in a lesser position. Of everyone that exerted their powerful position to reap another benefit they didn’t need instead of reaching out a hand to help.

“No jury in the world will put a woman in jail whose only reason for breaking and entering was to keep her child.” He spoke loud and clear, with a confidence he didn’t quite have but he needed to muster anyway. “I’m willing to roll the dice that contract doesn’t hold up. Are you?” He let the words sink in for a moment before he delivered the final blow. “Not to mention what might come out about you in the process. Somehow, I suspect, there is more to you than a simple pawnbroker. You really want to start that fight?”

He braced himself for Gold’s angry retort, but the man only gave him a condescending smile. “You’re good at this, Mr. Jones. I like it. You’re not afraid of me.”

Killian shrugged, “Why would I be?”

“That’s either cocky or presumptuous. Either way, I’d rather have you on my side,” Gold finished with a shrug of his own.

“So she can keep the baby?” Killian was quite sure it wouldn’t be that easy and Gold’s face confirmed that for him.

“Not just yet. There’s still the matter of my agreement with Miss Boyd.”

“Break the contract.”

“That’s not what I do.” Aye, there was definitely something sinister in Gold. “You see, contracts – deals – well, they’re the very foundation of all civilized existence.” Gold slowly approach Killian. “So, I put it to you now. If you want Ashley to have that baby, are you willing to make a deal with me?”

Killian clenched his jaw. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t know just yet.” The man certainly had a taste for dramatics. “You’ll owe me a favor.”

Every fiber of his being rebelled against the words. He knew it was a bad idea. But he had no choice. Ashley had no other choice.

“Deal,” he said, reaching over to shake Gold’s hand.

/-/

Killian and Henry made their way into Ashley’s hospital room. She was rocking a tiny little bundle in her arms and she looked tired but happy. Killian’s heart broke again, going back to the moment he’d missed in his own life. His hand went absentmindedly to ruffle Henry’s hair, his throat suddenly dry.

“What’s her name?” he asked in a strained voice, trying to muster a smile.

“Alexandra.”

“A name fit for a princess,” Killian said, the smile coming easier to his lips as he witnessed Ashley’s smile down at her child.

“Thank you for getting me here,” she said sincerely, her eyes meeting his.

Killian shrugged dismissively, “It was nothing, lass.” He took a deep breath, tilting his head. “Gold was outside.” He noticed her eyes widening in fear and he hurried his next words. “I took care of it. She’s yours to keep - and raise.”

“She is?” she asked in disbelief and Killian nodded. “What did you do?”

“Made a deal meself. Doesn’t really matter, love. You have the chance you wanted.”

You have the chance Emma and I never got.

“Thank you,” Ashley said, emotion in her voice and the tears coming to her eyes and Killian simple swallowed. He wanted to stay, grab that little baby in his arms and pretend for a moment that the time had gone back a decade and he was welcoming his own child to the world.

But history couldn’t be changed. There was no magical pen to rewrite a different tale. He’d missed his chance. This wasn’t his chance, this wasn’t his family. This was someone else’s chance and he could only hope he’d take it.

He tugged Henry’s jacket sleeve, bringing his attention to him. “Come on, lad, we have to get you home.”

The fact that he and Henry ran into Sean coming in while leaving the hospital made Killian think that perhaps this story would have a happy ending.

/-/

It was still a few minutes before the clock struck five o'clock when Killian pulled up outside Regina’s front gate. The lad had been quiet during the drive and Killian could sense that the events of the day had gotten to him. He took a deep breath as he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out the photograph he kept there. The edges were a little faded, but it was still in good shape. He’d taken good care of it for a decade, and it was one of his most prized possessions.

“Here,” he said, handing it over to Henry. “I don’t have much from your mo- from Emma, but I have this.”

Henry took the picture, his eyes drinking in the image. “Is that her? And you?”

“Aye,” he said as he took one last look at the snapshot of him and Emma from his eighteenth birthday. Her blacked rimmed glasses hanging a little low on the bridge of her nose, her eyes looking at him with nothing but love and hope. Gods, he’d loved her so much.

He still loved her so much.

“Hook,” Killian said suddenly and Henry tore his eyes away from the picture to give him a quizzical look. “My code name can be Hook. That- that’s what your mother used to call me.” He smiled as the memories came to him, hitting him like a wave.

She’d been his everything.

He knew it had been a terrible idea to come to this side of the town. The docks has always been shady and at this hour even more. He’d wanted to come alone, but Emma had insisted on coming with him, determined to listen what August had to say.

But August had never showed up and on their way back to the Bug, a couple of men had come for them. One had grabbed Emma and the other had tried to restrain him. Killian couldn’t remember much more than that, other than the blind rage that had welled up in him at the mere idea of Emma getting hurt. His hands searched frantically for anything he could leverage against the attackers and that was when he’d felt his fingers grasp cold metal. He’d grabbed the tool and simply swung it back and forth, slicing the man’s arm. In the meantime, Emma had already broken free and was leveraging a wood plank for her defense - she was a tough lass, after all.

The men had decided to retreat and soon Killian was pulling Emma in his arms, frantically asking if she was okay. She’d nodded, sinking into his arms a little further.

It could have been hours, but it was probably a few minutes by the time they pulled apart. Her hand held his wrist and she examined the hook he was still holding in his hand.

“A hook? Really?,” she’d asked in disbelief. “What are you, a pirate?”

“It was the first thing I could grab,” he’d said sheepishly.

“It suits you,” she tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’d think that is what I’m calling you from now on: Hook.”

“Why did she call you that?” Henry asked eagerly.

Killian swallowed loudly, trying to find a way out of that question. He didn’t want to lie to Henry, but the truth was a little too dark for his taste. In the end, he settled for a sanitized version of the truth that wouldn’t betray the spirit of what he and Emma were.

“Some nonsensical things about us being like pirates, living by our code or something,” he said.

Henry nodded, his eyes studying the picture again before he motioned to give it back to Killian.

“Keep it,” he said. “I want you to have it.”

“Thanks,” Henry said, his hands holding the picture as if it were a treasure. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully as he exited the car.

“Aye,” Killian confirmed. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” son. He finished the sentence in his head as he witnessed Henry make his way into the house. He put the car in gear and left, driving the few blocks until he arrived outside the loft’s building. He grabbed his phone and took out the card he’d been given. His fingers fidgeted a second before he dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Sheriff Humbert, I was wondering, is the job offer still open?”

“You can call me Graham and yes, it is.”

“Is Regina going to be okay with this?

“My department, my choice. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

“Please don’t tell me I’m on doughnut duty…” he joked and Graham chuckled. “See you on Monday, Sheriff.”

He disconnected the called and exhaled deeply.

Killian Jones, Deputy. That would be a thing to see. Emma could probably had a field day with that - if she ever knew about it.

He sighed, dragging himself towards the loft, the prospect of a night in a comfortable bed and the hope to keep the memories at bay.

But he knew the second part was only wishful thinking.

#cs ff #lenfaz fics #time upon once #captain swan #canon divergence

50 notes · View notes