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awanderingdeal · 3 years

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When a loss isn't really a loss

This is just over 5000 words of O'Darwin smut and general silliness. Enjoy. Some of this I have posted as a live write before on the discord, but it's been heavily edited and added to.

Rating: E

CW: Explicit sex, food talk

Please message me if you I missed any content warnings.

All of these characters come from the fanfic Sweater Weather and Credit for them goes to @lumosinlove

"I'm going to jump in the shower and then I'll be ready to collect payment," Natalie smirked, shaking her ass at her boyfriends as she bent down to peel off her snowy boots at the door.

"Absolutely not," Alex scoffed, smacking her butt, although she couldn't feel much through the padding of her thermals and ski pants "You cheated."

"I made one tiny comment," Natalie argued, setting her boots to the side, and stepping a little further into the cabin to take off her jacket. "It’s not my fault your brain is in your dick."

"Okay, but it's not as if anybody is really losing, is it?" Kasey said pushing past Alex, having mentioned multiple times by now that he was ready to be out of the cold. "Let's be real, eating you out is the real prize here, babe."

"Kiss-ass," Alex grumbled.

"I'll kiss your ass anytime, Al,'' Kasey retorted. Alex muttered something under his breath, but Kasey ignored him, continuing to shrug off his clothes until he was left in only his base layers. "I'll start a fire whilst you hop in the shower, Nat."

“Thanks, love,” Natalie pecked a kiss to Kasey’s cheek, the slight scruff he had decided to sport for the trip was rough against her lips. Alex had finally managed to get his boots off, and joined the two of them in pulling off his skiwear. She drew up onto her tiptoes, not letting the couple of inches of extra height Alex had on her be a deterrent as she ruffled his hair and placed a kiss on his cheek too. “Suck it up, sweetheart.”

“Hey!” Alex protested. “I want a rematch tomorrow!” he called as she retreated from the room, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

The warm water felt wonderful cascading down Natalie’s body, soothing her tired muscles. She could have stayed under it forever; the thought of Alex and Kasey waiting for her in the lounge the only thing motivating her to move through the routine of washing her hair. The coconut scent of her conditioner permeated the room as she stepped out of the shower and piled her hair beneath a towel.

She stepped out into the short hallway, hearing hushed bickering coming from the living room. Rolling her eyes, she yelled to let them know the bathroom was unoccupied. “Boys! The shower is free!” The bickering continued, the topic switching from where the next log should be placed, to which of them should be left to finish the job. Natalie considered interrupting to inform them she could probably do the task quicker than either of them, but she left them to it, heading to the bedroom.

She hummed to herself whilst she rummaged through her suitcase, considering the new lyrics she’d doodled on the flight here, until she felt the slippery material of the satin pyjamas she was looking for.

“Aha.” She gave a satisfied smile, pulling the bralette and shorts on and looked in the mirror. “Damn, Darcy,” Natalie approved, turning to appreciate the way the material clung to her ass in all the right ways. She adjusted the top slightly, gave a satisfied nod and shook her still slightly damp hair from the towel, letting it fall down around her shoulders in loose waves. For a moment, she considered blow drying it, but she preferred the way it looked when it was allowed to dry naturally. If Alex and Kasey wanted to have sex, then they could deal with it.

The lounge was empty when Natalie returned, the logs and fire - lighter abandoned on the ground. She snorted at the tiny tepee that had been built in the grate, imagining Alex lecturing Kasey on the technique, until they decided it was more fun to take a shower together. It was a far too regular occurrence for Alex to remind them he had been a boy scout only to completely fail at the skills he was supposed to have learnt was comical. At this point, she suspected the only useful thing to come out of it were the photos of a small Alex dressed in little shorts, grinning proudly at his badge-covered sash. The organisation could go fuck themselves, but she had to admit the images were adorable.

Natalie gathered the materials, making light work of getting the fire started. Her own skills came from weekend camping trips with her family, her parents having encouraged her to pull her weight alongside her brother. Kasey wasn't one to embrace nature, more inclined towards the comfort of hotel rooms and running water. Still, Natalie was daydreaming about dragging him and Alex on long hikes when the pair of them interrupted it, walking back into the lounge with sheepish expressions.

"In our defence -" Alex started, his sentence ending abruptly when he properly took in Natalie's appearance. "Excuse me, nobody told me we were supposed to be looking hot. I need to go and get changed," he gestured to the pair of joggers sitting loosely on his hips.

Kasey shook his head, quickly grabbing the back of Alex's t-shirt, halting his retreat. "Don't bother, I don't plan on them being on for long."

"Okay, yeah, I could be down with that," Alex agreed. "But fuck, Nat. Warn a guy next time."

Natalie laughed, pushing herself up from the floor and relocating to the sofa, a few steps away. "Where would the fun in that be?"

"It's alright, Al. You could be wearing a bin bag and you'd still be hot," Kasey said, releasing Alex's t-shirt from his grip.

"Aww babe," Alex cooed. His eyes flicked from Kasey to Natalie, pointing his thumb at Kasey. "Can you believe this guy manages to convince people that he's a tough man?"

"Hey, real men talk about their emotions," Kasey shrugged. "We did a whole campaign on it, soon after you joined the Rangers. Remember?"

"I do, the t-shirt they gave you was too fucking small and I swear I nearly combusted,” Alex tipped his back slightly whilst he laughed. Natalie loved watching the two of them interact. There was something light about it, almost as if they seemed to forget the rest of the world was there. "Nat, it was honestly sinful.”

Okay, perhaps they forgot everybody but her. And frankly, Natalie was honoured.

"Sinful huh? I approve of sin," Natalie raised an eyebrow, patting the seat beside her. "Get over here." She didn't have to ask twice, soon flanked on either side by her hockey boys. She nudged her shoulder against Alex's. "So, have you reconsidered that maybe you did actually lose earlier." Alex ran his tongue over his lips, dragging his eyes over her form. "I could be convinced," he murmured, fingers trailing over Natalie's thigh. "I still want another race tomorrow though."

"You know I'm going to win again," Natalie smirked, leaning in to let her breath skim over his ear. "What are you waiting for? I'm ready," she whispered, punctuating her words with a kiss to his jaw, spreading her legs a little further. Alex stumbled a little as dropped to his knees in front of her. Apparently he was excited.

"It really is a shame to take these off, they're so pretty," Alex sighed, grasping the waistband of the shorts, although he didn't seem to be too disappointed to be sliding the silky fabric down her legs.

He kissed a trail up her thighs, each kiss sending a tiny shiver up Natalie's spine. Her body was tight with the anticipation of what was coming. They weren't new to this, Alex spent a lot of time between her legs, but in her opinion, the thrill had only increased. She knew how good he could make her feel now. Alex hooked his hands under her knees and shifted her a little closer to him. Leaning forward, he dragged his tongue through the damp already forming between her legs, tasting her with slow, leisurely licks. Natalie whined, low at the back of her throat, her hips pushing up and legs tightening around Alex as she sought more of his attention. He obliged, pressing his tongue flat against her clit, bringing his fingers to play at it, his beard rough against her skin as he sucked eagerly at her centre.

She let her head tip back, finding Kasey's strong hold behind her. He kissed gently at the exposed skin of her neck, capturing her mouth to swallow her next moan. "Can you tell me what you want next Nat? You're going to come on Al's face, yeah? Then what?"

Natalie managed a nod, her hands flying to tangle in Alex's hair as he dipped his tongue inside her. "Fuck, Alex. Do that again." Alex repeated the precise flick of his tongue, his small chuckle at Natalie's string of expletives, reverberating through her.

"Hey," Kasey's hand gripped her chin carefully, getting her focus. "What next?"

Natalie couldn't think what came next when Alex was working his magic, any coherent thought she managed to form was forced away by the skilful tease of his mouth.

Kasey traced the wildflowers inked around her belly button, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you want me to fuck you?" He snaked his hands upwards, ducking into the cup of her bralette to toy with her nipple. "Or Haz? Or maybe both?"

"Yes," Natalie gasped, rocking her hips against Alex's mouth. "Yes, yes yes." She wanted that. She wanted all of it.

"It's alright, babe. We've got you," Kasey continued to tug at her nipples, each pull sending a shiver down her spine. She writhed under their touch, her body unsure what it wanted more of. Alex pulled back a little, soothing Natalie's whine by replacing his mouth with his fingers, pressing them inside her.

"Please," The cry fell from her lips, guiding Alex's head back down. He followed enthusiastically, fingers still pushing into her as he lapped at her clit, grazing lightly over it with his teeth. She urged his mouth harder against her, the familiar tingle of pleasure playing at the ends of her limbs.

"That's it love, come on him. I can't wait to taste you on him,” Kasey encouraged.

“Fuck Al - I'm so close," she whimpered, her breath coming in quick pants.

A warmth pooled in her stomach, seemingly every muscle in her body tensing as Alex upped his efforts, his face buried in her as he nipped and sucked and licked. Kasey's mouth was back on her, his hands squeezing at her breasts. She couldn't tell where each of her whimpers and mewls started and ended anymore, the sounds melding into a symphony of pleasure; her boys playing her body like a practised instrument.

Natalie let herself voice her pleasure without restraint, enjoying the fact their cabin was nestled into a secluded spot in the forest and nobody would be able to hear them.

"Oh fuck, yes. Right there. Don’t stop. Gonna come." The words fell from her lips rambling and desperate, her hand curling tighter into Alex's hair in warning. Her world narrowed as she came, everything but the intense pleasure searing through her becoming irrelevant in that small moment. The two of them worked her through, coaxing every second of bliss from her they could, until the spasms slowed and she relaxed against Kasey.

"I believe I said something about sharing." Kasey grasped Alex's hand, leaning down to help him close the gap between them. Alex's face was sticky with her come, but Kasey didn't hesitate to crash their mouths together. Natalie watched them kiss above her, the euphoria still making her thoughts a little hazy, but a small excitement told her that she was definitely still horny, despite the fact she had barely recovered from the last orgasm.

Kasey pulled away; the corners of his mouth turned up into a soft smile that didn't quite seem to match the situation. "Messy boy," he chirped, cupping Alex's jaw and gathering the slick onto his fingers. Slipping them between his lips, Kasey sucked them, giving a long moan at the taste.

Alex's back clicked as he clambered back up onto the couch properly. The juxtaposition between the reminder of the reality of human bodies, and the almost pornographic gesture she had just witnessed from Kasey made Natalie snort a laugh. “Are you okay there, old man?" she flashed Alex a grin.

Alex poked her gently in her side, chuckling a laugh against her lips. "Shut up."

Natalie shoved him in the arm playfully. "Thank you, that was awesome. Maybe I'll let you win tomorrow so I can return the favour."

Out of the corner of her eye, Natalie saw Kasey reach down to palm himself through his shorts. She pecked a kiss to Alex's cheek, his face still shiny with her come. "Why don't you go and wash that off before it starts to get itchy. I want all your attention on me when you're fucking me."

Alex let his head drop back against the sofa with a groan, and Natalie laughed as his eyes seemed to glaze over slightly. A filthy comment never failed to get him worked up.

"Okay, Okay, I'm going. Don't do anything too interesting until I get back," Alex pushed off the sofa eagerly, dragging his eyes over Natalie and Kasey before he hurried to the bathroom in a half-jog.

“Bring the lube too!” Natalie called after Alex, swinging her leg over to straddle Kasey’s lap. Kasey smirked as he lifted his head to catch Natalie’s lips with his own, pulling back from the kiss only once their breaths were coming in heavy pants.

“Think that was too interesting?” he murmured, burying his face into her shoulder..

“I don’t know. What do you think about this?” Natalie ground her hips down, drawing a whine from Kasey.

“Definitely too interesting,” Kasey gasped, bucking up into the contact.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Alex shouted, his footsteps heavy in the hallway.

“That’s what I’m going to be saying in about two seconds if you don’t stop,” Kasey quipped, setting his hands on Natalie’s waist, his fingers squeezing gently.

“What took you so -” Natalie looked up as Alex hurried into the room, his feet slipping slightly on the hardwood. “Where are your clothes?”

Natalie had to cling onto Kasey's shoulders to avoid being thrown from his lap when he turned his whole body, whipping his head around at the question. God, Kasey was so cool until he wasn't at all.

“Figured I wouldn’t need them for this next part,” Alex smiled. His face was so expressive, the emotion lifting his entire face. He swept his hand through his hair smoothly as if he hadn’t just nearly landed on his ass. “I did bring lube though, and condoms,” he added, showcasing the aforementioned objects. “Still waiting on that second set of results after Philly.”

Two sets of testing. Two weeks apart. The second set at least a month after the event. Plus twice a year routine testing. Those were the rules they had laid out for not using a condom if any of them had sex with somebody outside of them and a few other select people they trusted. It wasn’t fool proof, but it was what the three of them were comfortable with.

"Get over here,” Natalie beckoned. “I was thinking we could have a do-over of Vegas?”

“Vegas?” How Alex managed to make the thoughtful tilt of his head look almost puppyish, sauntering over buck naked, and his hands full of sex paraphernalia, Natalie would never know. He glanced at the cabin door, eyes widening slightly.

“Yep,” Natalie sniggered. “No room service to interrupt here.”

“I think we’ve already established that you are the brains of this relationship, eh?” Kasey prodded her in the side. Natalie was so busy trying to escape the fingers tickling under her last rib that she didn’t hear Alex dropping to his knees behind her, startling as his hair brushed against her cheek. “Stop it,” she laughed, batting away Kasey’s hands, her head tipping back into the kiss Alex was pressing into the curve of her neck.

“Let’s try not to have anybody end up on the floor this time, Kase?” Alex returned the laugh, his steady weight behind her the only thing that was preventing her fall.

“I will bite you,” Kasey lifted a hand from Natalie’s hip to show Alex his middle finger.

“Is that a promise?”

“Do you two want the room to yourself?” Natalie chuckled, pushing her ass back against Alex. She chuckled as his cock twitched in response. “Hmm, I’ll take that as a no. Enough talk then?”

“Fuck, I want to rim you first, please?” Alex groaned lowly, hauling himself from the floor. “And you sir, are wearing too many clothes. Rectify that.” He took the seat next to Kasey, curling his fingers around his jaw and pulling into a needy kiss.

“Oh, he’s bossy today. Better do as he says, Sugar,” Natalie chuckled, sliding from Kasey's lap. He remained seated, his eyes following her every move whilst she quickly dragged one of the armchairs so that it was opposite the sofa. Satisfied, she returned to him, for once being the one to look down at him. She gave him a soft smile, tucking a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. “Come now, There’s a front row seat for you once you’re ready,” she said, hooking her finger into the neckline of the old faded Gryffindor tee he was wearing and urging him to stand.

“And I didn’t even buy tickets,” Kasey laughed lightly, pulling the t-shirt over his head. Natalie shoved him gently, shaking her head at the terrible joke.

Still smiling, Natalie draped herself over the arm of the sofa, her back arched and feet resting on Alex’s thighs. She glanced over her shoulder to find Alex’s gaze fixed past her on Kasey undressing. She couldn’t really blame him, letting herself watch as Kasey shoved his sweatpants down seemingly endless legs. The pants hit the ground with a quiet thud.

“Fuck, I forgot my cell was in there,” Kasey muttered.

“You need to work on your act, babe,” Alex snorted.

The trance-like weight that had filled the room lifted and Natalie dug her toes into Alex’s leg, garnering his attention. “Since you asked so nicely,” she grinned, dancing her fingers over the curve of her ass.

“I did, didn’t I?” Alex hummed, his hand covering Natalie’s. It was warm, and even though his eyes were dark with anticipation, the grasp was gentle. “Just relax, watch Kase,” he said, squeezing their fingers together lightly, nudging her hand away as he let go.

Natalie listened to him, tucking her arms beneath her head and turning to watch Kasey. Alex’s lips were soft against her skin, pressing kisses everywhere from the top of her thighs to the base of her spine. Kasey finished undressing, taking his time to create a meticulously neat stack on the coffee table, leaving only his underwear to the side. She caught his quick look at Alex, but she was too slow to read whatever communication they’d been having, both of their expressions quickly schooled back into innocence. She huffed, any irritation she had felt wiped away by the nip of Alex’s teeth on her ass.

Kasey folded himself into the armchair Natalie had moved, one leg tucked casually beneath the other. The position left his cock exposed and Natalie was about to make a casual quip when Alex let his breath whisper over her asshole. Her whole body tensed, Kasey wrapping his hand around the length of his cock at the same time as Alex let his tongue brush over her sensitive nerve endings. “Fuck, Al,” she whipped her head around, quickly turning to look back at Kasey who was teasing himself with slow strokes. She whimpered, unsure where she wanted to look.

“Sssh,” Alex soothed, “Watch our boy.”

Natalie couldn’t have told you how long it was until Alex shifted again. A few minutes maybe? Perhaps more. That first intense pleasure of his tongue pushing into her slowly morphed into something more relaxing. It was an odd contrast to Kasey getting more and more worked up, his groans escalating until he bucked into his fist one last time, quickly enveloping the head of his cock with his boxers.

“Damn, Snow. Come here,” Alex beckoned Kasey over once he had taken a second to get his body back under his control, his legs still a little wobbly as he made his way over.

Natalie hadn’t even noticed the lazy circles her hips were rubbing into the sofa below her, until Alex stilled them. “Are you ready to take some fingers now, Nat?” he asked, rubbing his thumbs into the back of her thighs in a slow massage.

“So fucking ready.” Natalie rocked back a little to stretch her muscles out. Now that Alex’s tongue wasn’t working her into a euphoric state, she could feel her back protesting the position. “Remind me why we’re doing this here and not in the bedroom again?”

“Something about someone wanting to say they had fucked in front of a fireplace in a cabin,” Kasey drawled.

“Oh yeah, who would that have been?” Natalie gave a small smirk. Perhaps there were easier things they could have done out here, but she was determined to fulfil her fantasy completely.

“You want to switch it up? Kase could lie under you, whilst I prep your booty?”

Natalie laughed, sitting back on her heels to let Kasey lie where she’d been. “I’m officially adding booty to the list of words we don’t say during sex.”

“Such a party pooper," Alex quipped, sticking his tongue out at the eye roll he received from Natalie. He chucked a condom in Kasey’s direction, the latter plucking it from the air with ease. Natalie waited for him to roll it on, and then swung her hips over his. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down into a kiss.

“Hey,” Kasey grunted.

“Hey to you too, did you enjoy yourself over there?” Natalie mumbled against his lips, content in the security of his hug.

Kasey hummed, “I like watching you two. You’re my favourite people in the world y’know and you’re both incredibly hot.”

“Jesus,” Natalie huffed out a breath. “Do you want me to start crying?” she chuckled, kissing Kasey again, slow and long. Alex muttered something about them being too cute, before she felt the cool drip of lube between her butt cheeks, long fingers chasing it soon after. Alex took his time, adding more lube with each new finger. Kasey’s hands roamed endlessly over her back, his mouth stealing each approving whine from hers. It seemed unclipping her bralette and pulling the material from between them. She shivered as her nipples brushed against his skin, her body taught with anticipation.

“I’m going to come like this if one of you doesn’t fuck me soon,” Natalie gasped, grinding him. She could feel his cock growing harder each time it slipped through the wet slick pooling between her legs and she wanted nothing more than to take charge.

She didn’t have to though, and sometimes, that was just as nice. “I’ve got you babe,” Alex said, pulling his fingers from her, kissing the back of her neck to quiet the small whine she gave at the emptiness. His lips turned up into a smile against her skin and then he was gone.

Somewhere behind her, she heard the familiar tear of Alex opening a condom, but most of her attention was sought by Kasey. “Can’t wait to be inside of you,” he whispered, brushing her hair from the side of her face. “It’s always so good. And Al’s going to be right there as well. I bet I’ll be able to feel him. We’re going to make you feel so good.”

"Big promises, Kasey Winter," she teased, knowing there was nothing but truth behind the words. Even after all these years, things hadn't gotten boring. Sex wasn't the most important thing in their relationship, and if it had to stop tomorrow for some reason they had s0 much more, still it was something they both valued. Not everything new they tried worked out, but they never took each other for granted and they always had fun and she loved it.

Alex wasn't the first person they'd shared their bed with, however it had quickly become clear he was different. She couldn't deny there had been a small niggling part of her that had wondered if it would weaken her and Kasey's relationship. Of course, Alex had proved her wrong, slotting in perfectly. There had been issues, things they needed to work through, and there always would be. Nevertheless, Alex made things better.

"Natalie?" Alex asked, his fingers tapping against the curve of ass. "You with us?"

“Yeah, sorry. I zoned out. Are you ready?”

“Jeez Kase, I leave you with her for two minutes and she’s already bored. Step it up, lover boy,” Alex laughed, both him and Natalie squealing as Kasey sat up to smack Alex in the arm.

“Alex,” Natalie huffed.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Alex appeased her. “Here, I think this will be easiest if you sit up,” he suggested helping her into a more upright position and taking the spot behind her. “Yeah, like that. And then Kasey can go from this way,” he waved a hand that was vaguely instructional, waiting for a confirmatory nod from Kasey. “ That good, Nat?”

“I’m good,” Natalie affirmed and Alex pushed into her slowly, both of them groaning as she stretched around him. Natalie leaned back into his chest, his arms strong around her waist. She tilted her head back so he could capture her lips in a sloppy kiss, the short thrusts of hips drawing breathy moans from the both. Neither of them seemed to care when their teeth clashed, both of them too eager to be as close as possible. There wasn’t really enough room on the sofa for the three of them, their bodies slotting together at the most awkward angles, yet they made it work.

“One more, Kase,” Alex uttered. She could feel him squeezing his eyes shut against her neck, his breath coming in breathy pants each time she squeezed around him. Kasey obliged, adding a third finger with his next thrust. Between the two of them, Natalie felt full already, but she wanted more. Kasey was dragging his thumb lazily around her clit in a way that made Natalie’s toes curl, never quite where she needed it, just playing along the brink of something spectacular.

“Kase!” Sometimes Natalie enjoyed the slow dance, being teased until she felt like she was going to explode. Today, however, was not one of those days. She wanted Kasey in her, now.

“I hear you loud and clear, love,” Kasey hummed. “What does the boss man think?”

“The boss man? Is that me? Oh, I like that,” Alex said. The low grumble Natalie gave was almost inaudible. Still, Alex must have felt it because he chuckled, brushing his lips over shoulder blade. “Yeah, I think you better get on with it.”

“Holy shit,” Alex groaned, his fingers squeezing hard into the soft flesh around Natalie’s hips when Kasey sunk into her. “That is incredible.” At first the movements were awkward, but eventually they found a rhythm, Alex slipping out as Kasey pushed forward. Low whimpers fell from her lips with each thrust.

“Are you okay?” Kasey squeezed Natalie’s knee, the act managing to maintain a gentleness to it despite everything else.

“It’s a lot, but it’s good,” Natalie nodded jerkily. She grasped at the limbs around her, trying to gain purchase on the sweat slicked bodies. Her own body felt charged, brimming with electricity as they rocked together. Kasey shifted slightly and if Natalie thought it had been good before, it was nothing compared to this. "Oh my God, don't move. Please don't move."

"There you go, baby." Kasey pulled her closer, his hands firm on her hips, letting her rut against him. Behind her, she could tell Alex was getting close, his babbled exclamations becoming more and more incoherent. She knew the words coming out her own mouth were similarly incomprehensible. It was as if she could feel every inch of Alex’s hastening movements in every muscle. It was simultaneously too much and not enough.

Natalie was pretty sure Alex finished first, the warmth of his come seeping through the thin latex. She didn’t get to enjoy the sensation for long, falling into her own orgasm soon after. She does remember Kasey dragging her hips forwards to fuck her through it, tipping himself over the edge too.

“I’m down for doing that again sometime if you two are?” Natalie hummed once their heart rates had settled to something more like normal. She was sandwiched between Kasey and Alex. Now that the endorphins had started to wane, it was becoming rather uncomfortable, the three of them squeezed onto the small sofa. “Maybe somewhere more convenient next time.”

“Sure,” Kasey replied, his words laced with tiredness and a yawn escaping.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep, Winter. You promised we could watch Black Widow tonight,” Alex sat up, poking Kasey in his side. “Come on, it’s not even late.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep,” Kasey blinked, once, twice, three times, before giving a heavy sigh.

“Nope, everybody up. Up. Shower time,” Alex clapped his hands together.

“See what happens when you let him take charge, Nat. It goes to his head. Look what you’ve created.” Kasey groaned, rubbing the heel of hand into his eyes. He did sit up though, pulling Natalie with him and she resigned herself to the fact they were moving.

“I want popcorn,” Natalie said, her mouth already watering at the thought of freshly popped kernels.

“Yes, good shout,” Alex agreed. “I think we still have pasta left over from last night too.”

It took a while, but eventually the three of them piled back onto the sofa, steaming bowls of popcorn decorated with pretzels and chocolate sauce on their laps. Natalie ran her thumb over the corner of Alex’s lips wiping away remnants of tomato sauce; the pasta hadn’t made it out of the kitchen. She leaned forward to grab the remote, Alex immediately taking the opportunity to feign throwing a piece of popcorn at Kasey.

“Nuh uh, if you’re going to start playing catch then I’m having the first attempt at catching. You two get all competitive and then I never get a turn,” Natalie reprimanded jokingly, already shifting her bowl to the coffee table so she wouldn’t lose it all.

“Okay, whoever catches the least out of ten has to make breakfast in the morning?” Alex agreed.

“Game on.” As Natalie opened her mouth to make her first catch, she felt a wet finger dip into her ear and the popcorn sailed past her into Kasey’s lap. He picked it up and dropped it into his mouth as a smug smirk. “No!” she protested with a laugh. “That’s cheating. That one doesn’t count.”

Kasey raised his hands in surrender, his own laugh bubbling in his chest. “Alright, alright. I’ll play fair, I promise.”

#18+#o'darwin #sweater weather #lumosinlove #kasey winter #alex o'hara #natalie darcy #cw: food #cw:sex

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hithelleth · 3 years

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The Falcon and the Winter Soldier 1x06 “One World, One People”

I wrote this yesterday and even posted it but took it down because I wanted to process it further, but I feel pretty much the same today, so, here.

Uh, my feels are all over the place. IDK how coherent this will be. Also, I’m feeling weird in a way unrelated to the show so that might be colouring my perception.

Okay, we all knew Sam would be the new Cap and that went as expected and better, they really did it well and made him a true Cap. So I liked that.

IDK why I feel like there’s something missing about Bucky’s side of the story? He and Sam became true partners and friends and I guess he made his amends and finished with therapy and he’s hanging out with the Wilsons and he’s obviously happy. But. I don’t know, I just have a weird feeling. Maybe I’m just sad it’s the end of the story in general. Well, for now.

John Walker suddenly being helpful (while also after his own vengeance against Karli) seemed sketchy. And sure, he is at Val’s beck and call and she got him back in the US’s good graces because things will get different and ‘they’ will need a US agent.

Hmm. I wonder who ‘they’ are? Was that fascist/Nazi-like salute Walker did at the end? I’m thinking Hydra. Because we know those bastards never die. They could be coming back. And Walker could be Hydra Cap (like in the comics.) Edit: Aha, I’ve since learned the US Agent is an actual comics character. In any case, this story might be interesting to see.

So, Sharon is the Power Broker.

I have very mixed feelings about this, although I called it.

Considering the shitty deal she got after CACW, I understand why she went on that path: she needed to survive and she had the skills – and reasons to resent the US government & law (& possibly the Avengers, because it seems they’ve forgotten about her, but that’s sloppy writing and a whole other story) – to do it this way.

(Although, on the other hand, Steve and Sam were also on the run for two years, so they couldn’t have helped her in that time, I guess. And then there was Infinity War already, right? My memory is bad.

But otherwise, if that wasn’t the case, you wanna tell me Steve would just forget about doing anything to exonerate/help her? FFS.

It’s like Endgame and his effing off into the past. While I’m at that, if they had to make an absolute ‘no homo’ statement, they could have had Steve get Natasha back when returning the soul stone. (Okay, yeah, I’m a shipper, but still, it would make more sense.))

Okay, back to this show.

Conveniently, Sharon got rid of both Bartoc and Karli while helping Sam – although I think she would have helped Sam anyway against whomever he had been fighting, but in this way she killed two birds with one stone: got rid of the people who knew who she was and helped Sam at the same time.

(BTW, I don't like that Karli died.)

And Sam kept the promise to get her the pardon.

Which is great, because now she has access to all the fancy US military stuff to sell to the highest bidder.

Gah.

Like, I said, I understand why she’s gone down that way and she is so badass at it it’s great to watch, but I also want her to not become totally evil and come back to the good side – but it’s gonna take a lot more that a pardon, it will have to be personal for her to want to be good.

Which brings me back to the potential Walker’s story. If Hydra comes back, maybe that will be where Sharon draws the line and decides to play for the good side again (especially, since I suspect that their plan is to infiltrate the US government as they did Shield, so the government wouldn't be good anyway (I mean, not that it’s good now, but you know, gonna be a lot worse under Hydra.))

Oh, right, and Zemo orchestrated from the Raft (or arranged it in advance) so his butler blew up the remaining Flag Smashers. Of course he did.

Anyway. I think the weird feeling is that I’m sad it’s over. I want more (especially of Bucky and Sharon. And Joaquin, him too. Wouldn’t mind more Zemo, either.;))

Well, I guess, it’s Marvel, they always want to milk the cow that brings them money some more, so I figure we’ll get more of something.

But yeah, that’s it. It’s been too short. Although, probably for the best, because if it had been longer, it most likely wouldn’t have been as good.

I probably forgot some (or a lot of) things, but this babbling got long enough, so I’ll finish here.

All in all, very mixed feelings. I liked it but I didn’t like it? I think I just feel bereft. Of something. Not sure what.

#The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #1.06: One World One People #tfatws meta #my meta: tfatws #or more like #notes to self

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #361

“the world is a vampire, sent to drain”

Have you ever been through a phase of thinking emo guys were hot? A phase? Hunny, they're still hot lmao. Have you ever dated someone that could play an instrument? Yeah. Juan could play guitar, and Girt played I think the tuba in band. What’s so horrible about wearing leggings like pants? I've actually never understood why people freak about this. Like so long as they're not sheer and fit you fine, why exactly is this a problem...? Weirdest picture you’ve ever taken of yourself? Oh dear. When someone claims to be suicidal, do you take them seriously? FUCK you if you don't. Honest to god, fuck you. This is NOT something you just don't even blink at. Even if it's surprising to hear from that person, you take that shit seriously and try to talk to them about it. Ever been kicked out of anywhere? Colleen's house. Ever had Skittles vodka? No, but that shit sounds good. Ever punched someone in the face? No. If you haven’t, do you want to now? Uh, I'll pass. Do you truly HATE anyone? No one I know personally, but people like rapists, pedophiles, etc., I sure as hell do hate them. Most historical/famous landmark/building you’ve been to in your country? No clue. Favorite flavor for most things? Strawberry, watermelon, or blue raspberry, depending on what the thing is. Ever taken pictures in a photobooth? Who with? Yeah: Summer, Jason, and I'm pretty sure Sara and I did? What is the closest book to you? It's a full collection of Poe's poetry that Mom got me. Are you reading it or someone else? I'm not right now. I may eventually. Milkshakes or Sundaes? Hm, I gotta go with milkshakes. Do you like watermelons more or cherries? I'm not a fan of either, but I'd definitely pick watermelons over cherries. Who was the last person you ate with? My family and I went to Ichiban (a Japanese steakhouse that we have here where they cook directly in front of you) yesterday to celebrate Nicole's graduation. Do you prefer broccoli or asparagus? Broccoli. I hate asparagus. Do you have any bug bites? No. Do you have any flowers in your room? No. Do you know anyone that owns horses? Loosely, anyway. It's a family I took pictures for, and I still have the mother on Facebook. When you were little, did you ever go to feed the ducks? Yes, I LOVED doing that. Don't feed ducks bread, by the way. Have you seen any of the seven wonders of the world in person? No. Have you ever won anything out of one of those crane machines? Yeah. Can you remember being taught how to ride a bike? Was it hard for you? Yeah. I don't THINK it was too hard. Did you get carded the last time you ordered an alcoholic drink? No. Do you know anyone who uses medical marijuana? No, it's not legal here. Do you know anyone who’s died in childbirth? No. Which was the worst phase in your life? 2016 was. Towards the end of '15 was the breakup, and through aaaaaaall of 2016, I was just dead inside and totally useless. Every day I wanted to be dead. Can you remember your last dream? I had a nightmare some stupid kids were fucking with my snake Venus, so I was trying to protect her. Do you ever use Snapchat? No, I don't have one. What’s your favorite musical? I don't like musicals. What happened at the last party you went to? Summer prepared some little Halloween treat bags for us guests, we watched a horror movie, and everyone but me smoked some weed. Are you more comfortable sitting or lying down? I would assume everyone is more comfortable lying down... Have you ever been a fan of N*Sync? Yeah, as a kiddo. Favorite kind of cake: Red velvet, yum yum. What is your middle name? Marie. TV shows and anime you watch regularly: None. Do you want to have a big family in the future? Just a big family of pets with a spouse. What was the last thing you did that gave you a rush? Oh boy, I couldn't tell ya. Is Vegas one of your must-see places? No. Pet rat: yay or nay? YAY!! I've had many, but I don't think I'll get any more. I've just had bad luck with them, save for one that died of cancer at an old age. Would you call yourself a writer? Written any stories lately? Yeah. I haven't really written any big RP posts of the late, but I did recently write a poem. Are needles something that you’re afraid of? Okay, so this is super weird. Tattoos and piercings? No problem. Little prick, getting blood drawn, that sorta little stuff, no problem. I am, however, NOT a fan of big needles, which used to not be an issue. It's actually kinda recent, and it's why I'm nervous about my second Covid shot coming up, aha... What was the last unexpected hug you gave/received? I really haven't had an unexpected hug since Jason asked for one before he left my house after our final talk. Who was the last person you held hands with? Either my niece or nephew. Have you ever been in a parade before? If so, was it on TV? No. Do you have a fear of rollercoasters? If so, were you ever forced to go on one? If you don’t, what is your favorite rollercoaster? I have a big fear of them, yeah. Post a picture of you from a recent time. Don't feel like it. Who was the last person to give you some of their food? Miss Tobey let me try one of her dumplings yesterday when we were at Ichiban for dinner. The last person you met, what was your first impression of them? I actually didn't quite like her. Have you ever been to a football game? Yeah, because my sister was a cheerleader. Do you like the snow or rain better? Snowwww. Have you ever faked sick? Yeah. What is your blood-type? A-. Have you ever eaten a bug? Not knowingly. The last time you were in the fridge, what were you looking for? Salsa. Mom got these veggie chips at the store and they apparently taste better with salsa, which it did. They weren't great, though. Are you listening to anything at the moment? It's Gab Smolders' turn for me to watch her Resident Evil 8 upload, haha. I'm literally watching three different people (Mark, John Wolfe, and her) play it. Can you take a bra off with one hand? I haven't tried, I think? I doubt I could, given that I'm not exactly small. Do you have an innie or an outie bellybutton? Innie. Can you crack your neck? NOOOOO AND DO NOT DO IT AROUND ME YOURSELF. Are you donating your organs? Yeah; what am I gonna use 'em for? It just seems like a waste otherwise. They're just gonna decay. When was the last time you talked to you mom? Before she left with Tobey to go to the store. Do you like pumpkin pie? NO. I don't like pie, and I hate pumpkin. Do you own your own computer? Yeah. Did you ever have to share a room with one of your siblings? Yeah; growing up, my little sister and I did. Is there any piece of technology you want to buy? I REALLY want a PS4. Did you ever have a night light when you were a kid? Yeah. What TV show had you hooked from the very first episode? Meerkat Manor, 100%. I had to know that Shakespeare was okay. What is your least favorite Sour Patch Kids color? Orange or red, can't pick. Have you ever seen the movie Matilda? YES! I love that movie. What is the weirdest chant you have ever heard? Uh, idk. How are you feeling? Annoyed and hurt as fuck because shit Miss Tobey says without thinking for a single goddamn second. I'm honestly beyond sick of this woman. Do you know anyone with a unibrow? I don't think so. Doughy or saucy pizza? Doughy. Do you have anything that’s limited edition? Yeah. Do you have an air freshener in your bathroom? If so, what scent? I... think we do? If so though, I just don't notice it. The bathroom doesn't smell like anything in particular. Do you like Jalapeno Cheetos? Oh man, I forgot about those! Love 'em. Are you a fan of salads? Yeah, they're fine. I have to be in the mood for one, though. What’s one random thing that you don’t like? Uhhh carrots. What’s one random thing that you like? Shrimp. Do you like chicken noodle soup? I don't. Is it easy for you to accept loss? NOPE. I'm the absolute worst with it. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? I really wanna see Sara, so take me to Illinois. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? No, but a former best friend had her birthday the day before mine. Is there someone you just can’t imagine your life without? Not anymore, honestly. After Jason, I stopped that "I can't live without you" mindset. Truth is I'm going to lose people through life, and I'm not attaching my ability to happily exist to anyone. Are you wearing a ring? Two. Have your friends ever stopped by your house just to say hi? In the past, yeah. Do you like Chinese food? Not really. I only ever get pork fried rice and eggrolls from Chinese restaurants. Have you done any shopping for something in specific recently? No. Do you still live in your hometown? No. What was the reason behind the last time you stayed up all night? I don't recall, honestly. I haven't done that in a very long time. Have you ever had a UFO sighting or a sighting of strange lights in the sky? A very strange light, yes. Have you ever seen your mom or dad drunk? Yes to both. Seeing Mom drunk is very, very rare though. My dad was an alcoholic when I was growing up, so I saw him drunk plenty. Do your parents vote? Mom does, idk about Dad. Who’s the most romantic person you ever went out with? Jason. What restaurant has the best fries? Nowhere has anything on Bojangle's, y'all. Have you ever had a surprise party thrown for you? No.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''bullet with butterfly wings'' by the smashing pumpkins

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ronniesshoes · 4 years

Text

Keep Yourself Alive

Previous / read it on ao3

A note: There’s a brief mention of J.K. Rowling, and I just want to make it clear that the tweet Freddie talks about is made up and in no way refers to her recent transphobic tweets. That part of the fic was written almost a year ago, and the fic itself takes place in 2018. If any of my trans and nonbinary readers want me to delete it I will, no questions asked.

Another, less important note: I had to post this in a rush so I might go back and edit a few things once I have time to read through it. No major changes, I promise!

Massive thanks to my wonderful friend @theseasofrhye for always cheering me on. Love you to pieces!

“What?”

Freddie looks up from his idle sketching at the sound of Brian’s voice. It doesn’t sound like him at all, his voice weak and stuffed with a choked up sort of disbelief. Freddie tries to catch his eye, but Brian is staring into space, listening intently.

“How—” Brian tries. Clears his throat. “How long have you known?”

His nostrils flare, and his jaw is tight, but he doesn’t look angry.

“Right,” Brian says tersely. Freddie wishes he knew what they were talking about. “I have to go now. No, I—. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I love you, too.”

Brian puts his phone down at the table, staring at it for a long while until he finally looks at Freddie. His eyes are glazed over with tears, and there’s a tell-tale twitch to his lips. Freddie rushes to his side.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, kneeling in front of Brian when he drops his gaze to the floor. Brian’s eyes land briefly on his before they skitter away again. Freddie puts his hands on Brian’s knees.

Brian is silent for a long while. His eyes seem to have fixed on a point behind Freddie’s left shoulder, and his jaw works hard to prevent tears from falling. Freddie gives him the space he needs, worried but aware Brian will clam up if forced to speak.

Finally, Brian opens his mouth. Closes it again and swallows. Freddie rubs a soothing hand up and down his leg.

“Dad—” He lets out a shaking breath. “My dad has cancer.”

The words hit Freddie like a punch in the gut, and he feels his throat close up. “Oh honey.”

He wordlessly squeezes Brian’s leg. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to help. It’s not fair that this is happening to Brian of all people, Brian who works so hard and has already been through so much.

“It’s his lungs,” Brian says, voice suddenly stripped off emotion, “they reckon it’s caused by his smoking. Among other things.”

“How are they treating it?” Freddie asks, and his voice comes out deceptively calm.

Brian shrugs. “They don’t know yet. Chemo probably. Might operate.”

Brian’s trouser leg is rough against his palm, and Freddie feels helpless and inadequate. He knows it’s not about him, that whatever he says won’t make the pain go away, but he cannot stand seeing Brian hurt like this.

“How do you feel?” His voice is gone now, reduced to a whisper.

“Angry,” Brian says. “Helpless.”

“Wh—”

“He’s always lived like this,” Brian interrupts, jaw working. “Mum’s tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t hear. Continued to smoke, continued to eat like shit. And now we’re paying the price.”

“Brian …”

“Why’s he doing this? Why—” The front door bangs open, and Brian’s mouth snaps shut.

“Do you want me to tell them?” Freddie asks quietly as he moves to stand.

Brian shrugs.

There’s the clunk of boots hitting the ground, a rustle of fabric, then a voice, unmistakably Roger’s, “aha! Told you they were here.”

Freddie glances at Brian, but he’s picking at his nails, mind elsewhere.

John and Roger enter then, both wearing equally big grins. Their presence seems loud and jarring.

“Missed us?” Roger asks, looping his arms around Brian from behind and pressing a loud kiss to his cheek. “Hi.”

Freddie tries to suppress a wince, but John’s sharp eyes pick up on it immediately. He looks at Brian, then back at Freddie.

“Hi,” Brian says, voice strange. Freddie’s heart races. It’s like watching a cat crossing the road about to be run over—he knows the blow is going to be fatal, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

Roger frowns and removes his arms. “Are you alright?”

Brian nods but doesn’t answer. He gets up to pull open one of the cupboard doors.

Roger looks after him, eyebrows drawn together. Then he relaxes. “Forgot my cigarettes, I’m just gonna go out and have one. I’m dying for a smoke.”

Brian visibly tenses. Freddie is half out of his chair before he realises there’s nothing he can do. Roger and John send him equally alarmed looks.

“I think Iʼm gonna go for a walk,” Brian says, voice hoarse and very much not looking at any of them.

"Of course dear," Freddie says, wanting so badly to go with him, but recognising his need for being alone. "We'll be here when you get back."

Brian nods stiffly and crosses the living room floor. Freddie listens for the swish of his coat, the stomp of boots. Soon after, the door closes.

Roger and John turn towards him simultaneously. "What's wrong with him?"

Freddie takes a deep breath, looks into their concerned faces. His nails bite into the palm of his hand. "He just got a call from his parents," he says, heart clenching. "His dad has cancer"

Roger's eyebrows draw down in obvious distress, and he’s grabbing the back of Brian’s vacated chair. A flicker of emotion shows on John's face.

“How bad is it?” Roger asks at last. His voice is a hoarse whisper.

"I don't know," Freddie says, matching his volume, "they were still looking into treatment. I don't know if Brian was told which stage it was in."

A long, uncomfortable silence permeates the flat as they process. Freddie feels sick with worry.

"Fuck," Roger says, dumping himself into the chair, and the breaking of the silence works like magic.

"I don't know what he needs," Freddie says, feeling small under the weight of his concerns, "I'm afraid he'll shut us out, that he’ll do something stupid."

"I don't think he will," John says. "We've all dealt with grief. He'll come around soon enough."

"What about the tour?" Freddie asks, hating himself as soon as the words leave his mouth.

"Let's give him some time, he'll decide what's best for him. Worst case we find someone to fill in, but let's not worry unnecessarily. I’m sure we’ll know more once he’s had time to process."

Roger scrapes his chair back.

"Where are you going?" Freddie asks, reaching to pull him back by his shirt.

John grabs him by the wrist and shakes his head mutely. His hand finds the back of Freddie’s neck, fingers moving in a gentle caress.

The door slams, and Freddie slumps back. John's touch is comforting, and now that they're alone, he feels tears well up in his eyes. Unable to stop them, and knowing John doesn't care, he lets them fall.

"It's so unfair," he whispers, and John pulls a chair over and sits down. Freddie leans against him, and John wraps his arms around him.

"I know," John says.

"Does it hurt you?" The words come out strangled, but he suppresses his urge to hide his face in John's shoulder and instead looks at him, needing to know. John hesitates.

"It feels strange," he says, "numbing, in a way. Am I supposed to help him because I’ve been through the same thing? Even if I wanted to, I can't offer words of comfort because my own situation is an example of how it can end in spite of all hope and prospects."

Freddie tightens his hold around John's waist. "It’s not your fault,” he whispers, fingers curling in the fabric of his jumper, “if anything you're a perfect example of how life goes on. There's comfort in that, too."

John drops a kiss to his hair. "We'll have to see how he's feeling when he comes back."

"I wish it hadn't happened," Freddie says, "it's not fair."

John makes a noise at the back of his throat. "No, it's not."

"He looked so happy just half an hour ago,” Freddie says, heart aching. “He and Roger seem to have made up finally."

John hums. "It’s a good thing he has Roger to talk to. I think it’ll make it easier."

“I love Roger, but he’s not exactly the nurturing type, is he?" Freddie says, listening to the steady beat of John’s heart.

John lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "He can be alright. I think he dislikes feeling useless."

"He and me both," Freddie sighs, rubbing at the drying trail of tears on his cheeks. "When did life get this complicated?"

John smiles. "When we grew up and discovered that our parents have their own struggles and can’t protect us. But life has become more interesting since then, don't you think?"

"I suppose.”

“You suppose,” John repeats, teasing, “don’t give me that. You love it when life is complicated. And if it isn’t, you’ll make it that way.”

“That feels decidedly backhanded,” Freddie says, grabbing John by the knee and shaking it.

John laughs. “You know what I mean. You love a good challenge.”

“I don’t love it when my best friend’s father has cancer,” Freddie says, feeling tired and fragile.

“That’s not the greatest news to receive, I’ll admit,” John says, “but it’s gonna be alright, don’t you think? We’ll be alright.”

“Hm,” Freddie says, decidedly unconvinced.

John is silent for a while. Freddie looks up, searching the familiar features. John meets his eyes. “Do you have any paper at hand?”

♛ ♛ ♛

“Alright, what’s next?” Freddie asks, pushing his finished drawing aside.

"Draw Roger wearing a top hat and a cape made of kittens," John says, giggling as he surveys the drawing.

"Made of?"

John laughs harder. "Not like a fur cape. I want actual, live kittens."

"How is that even gonna work?" Freddie demands. John's laughter is infectious.

"I thought that maybe if they all held paws they could stay together? Or tails?"

Freddie leans forward, elbows on the table. "There's no way Roger could get kittens to do that."

"No, really it's their shot, they're just using him as a prop. They've dreamt of this, Freddie, dreamt of it for ages. They just want to be famous. Like we do."

"I'm not sure your story is plausible," Freddie says, but he picks up his pen anyway. "Alright, how long have I got for this one?"

"It's always funnier the longer you spend on it because you just mess it up even more," John says, “five minutes?”

"I think maybe it’s your turn," Freddie says, lightly kicking John’s ankle under the table.

"Alright," John says, picking up a sheet of paper and reaching for a pen. "What do you want me to draw?"

Freddie purses his lips, looking to the ceiling in thought. He smiles. "I want you to draw Brian in space,” he says, “but make it gay."

"Brian and Roger in space, then?"

"John!" he says, "it's not official yet, we have to pretend we don't know anything."

"Right. Because they’re here right now."

"We don't know anything before they decide to tell us," Freddie says firmly. He’s certain it won’t be long—he and Brian have a wine night planned in a few days. "And anyway, I was thinking more along the lines of burlesque."

"What?"

"Brian," Freddie says, doodling a mop of hair on a previous drawing.

"Brian doing burlesque in space?"

"Yes," Freddie says, looking into John’s skeptic eyes. "I'm sure that's gonna be just wonderful."

John raises his eyebrows but doesn’t argue. "Right. How will I know you're not peeking if we're doing it at the same time?"

"Hm," Freddie says, looking around. He notices a scarf draped over Rogers' vacated chair and reaches for it. "Blindfolds!"

"One of those days, eh?"

Freddie laughs. "If you don't trust me without ..."

"Oh, I definitely don't,” John says, eyes on the scarf as Freddie runs it through his hands. “We need another one though."

"The tea towel?"

"It's dirty," John says.

"I can use it," Freddie says, even though he doesn't really want to. Anything that’s been that close to the sink probably shouldn’t come anywhere near his respiratory system.

"I think Brian's got a scarf in the hall," John says, pushing his chair back. A moment later he reappears with the ugliest scarf Freddie has ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes upon.

He makes a face. "Is that—?"

"I know,” John says, throwing Freddie the scarf, “think his mum made it."

“That explains so much,” Freddie says, “still, you’re supposed to go against your parents’ weird tendencies and beliefs, not adopt them.”

John makes a noise of amusement, sitting down opposite of Freddie.

Freddie holds up the scarf. “Do you—?”

John grins. "I think you'd look just lovely."

"Well, you won't be able to see me anyway," Freddie says, throwing John the other scarf. “I should divorce myself on the spot if I could see myself now.”

“You talk so funny sometimes,” John says, eyes crinkling.

“It’s called expressiveness, darling.”

“It’s called drama,” John says, folding his scarf with quick hands.

“Unimportant,” Freddie tells him, securing his scarf over his eyes and picking up a pen. "How long?"

"Two minutes," John says, and Freddie puts his pen to the sheet of paper in front of him. "But wait, we need to set a timer."

Freddie pauses. "Alright, you ready?"

"I can't put the timer on with a scarf over my eyes,” John says. Freddie can hear him move about.

"Then set the timer and tell me when you're ready.”.

"Alright," John says a moment later, "timer's on, blindfold's ... almost on. Right, I'm ready. Go!"

At the word, Freddie starts sketching. He's not entirely sure how he'll deal with the kittens yet, but John did say it was their moment, so they should probably be in the spotlight. He outlines Roger’s silhouette with light lines, doesn’t forget the top hate, then starts from where he thinks he sketched Roger’s feet, working his way up, stacking kittens on top of each other until the timer rings.

He takes off his blindfold and loses a snort.

There are kittens everywhere.

He thinks he's done a decent job of sketching a vaguely human-shaped figure, but in no way does it resemble Roger, not even when he tilts his head and squints. The top hat is pretty good but on his shoulder rather than his neck, and the furry blobs he's pretty sure are supposed to be kittens are everywhere—some are on the figure’s head, others on him, and the cape is at least four centimeters too far to the left. Disturbingly enough, his crotch is also covered by a kitten, if the whiskers and almond-shaped eyes are anything to go by. Speaking of eyes, for some reason, Roger's only got one.

"I like it," John says, leaning over the table to look at Freddie’s drawing. "Very Picasso. Wanna see mine?"

At Freddie’s nod, John slides the drawing towards him, picking up Freddie’s own to inspect it at a closer range.

Freddie looks at the drawing. The hair he got right, but there's neither burlesque or space unless he counts the dots and short lines which Freddie guesses are supposed to be stars. The legs are long and consist only of one line each, and the nose takes up most of his face. The resemblance is uncanny.

"Well, where’s your drawing?" Freddie asks, "this is just a picture of Brian in space dancing. Where'd you get it?"

John laughs. "I think they’d both be even better if they got some colour. Have you got any markers?"

"Have I got markers?" Freddie says, offended by the very question, "I haven't spent hundreds of pounds worth of markers for you to have the audacity to ask me if I've got any! The nerve!"

"Sorry," John says, giggling. "Can we use your markers then? I'm very sorry."

"You better be," Freddie says, and pushes his chair back. "I'll give you markers."

In his room, he empties his drawers, collects every single marker he owns and gathers them in his arms, walks back into the living room and spills them all on the table in front of John just to make a point.

"That's a lot of markers," John says.

"Of course it is," Freddie says, sitting down opposite him again.

John sends him a smile. "Wanna switch?"

"What?"

"The drawings."

Freddie reclaims his drawing. "Oh yes."

♛ ♛ ♛

Freddie is not sure how long they've been colouring, but he's almost done when the sound of the front door makes him look up. A moment later, Brian and Roger appear together, Roger looking serious, Brian drained and washed out but managing a smile in their direction as they pass them. They disappear into Freddie's room, the door clicking shut behind them, and Freddie instantly feels sick. He didn't mean to forget, didn’t mean to have fun while Brian is most like going through hell and back again, but he hadn't spared him a thought while he was with John.

John's foot brushes against his own underneath the table, and he looks up.

"Don't feel bad," John whispers, "Roger's taking care of it."

Freddie knows that, knows that Roger is handling it just fine despite his earlier comment, but the feeling that he should be helping won't leave him.

“Wanna switch?” John asks carefully, gesturing to his drawing, “I’ll do the background.”

"I'm not really in the mood for this anymore," he admits.

"That's fine," John says, "we'll clean up. Do you want to be alone?"

Freddie shakes his head vigorously. "Please no."

Freddie looks at him for a moment. It scares him to put words to his feelings. He's always relied on sex to distract himself from his own emotions, and moreso when his partner started asking questions he couldn't answer.

"I just want to lie with you," he says.

John brushes his fingers over his arm. "We'll do that. Want to go to my room?"

“Hm,” he replies, fisting a hand in John’s jumper. He breathes deeply, tries to make his own heartbeat match that of John’s. “Have you made your bed?” He thinks he needs to lie down and be coddled.

He can hear John smile by the way air leaves his nose in an exhale. “You know, I woke up today and I was just about to, but then I thought, better wait, you never know when an unmade bed might come in handy.”

Freddie smiles tiredly and lets himself be pulled out of the chair and into John’s bedroom.

The mess seems worse than usual and it irks him, makes him feel jittery, almost.

When he doesn’t settle against the wall as he usually does, John looks at him, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t look at the mess. Just, you go in, I’ll have my back to it.”

“I can clean it, it shouldn’t take 10 minutes.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Freddie says, even though it does. He feels worn out and confused like he’s just woken up from an accidental nap.

John picks up his huge Lord of the Rings book from his nightstand and holds it out for Freddie. “Here,” he says, “to keep you entertained.”

Freddie looks at the book, suspecting it weighs about the third of his own body weight.

“I’m not getting into bed with that,” he says, “what if it lands on me, it could kill me.”

“How would it land on you?” John asks, a note of amusement in his voice.

“Surprise attack?” Freddie replies, sitting down on the bed.

“Alright, suit yourself,” John says, putting the book back on his nightstand to start collecting the clothes strewn across the floor.

Freddie lies down and buries his face in John’s pillow. It doesn’t smell wrong exactly, but it also definitely doesn’t smell like someone who’s been sleeping alone. “Why do your sheets always smell of Roger?”

“I’ll let you figure that one out yourself,” John says, dumping his armful of clothes in his hamper.

“He takes up quite a lot of space, doesn’t he?” Freddie says, thinking back on the time they briefly lived together. Unless Roger had company, he would more often than not come creeping somewhere around midnight when Freddie woke up to use the loo. At 5.30, when Freddie’s alarm went off, Roger would be draped all over the bed or wrapped around him, and Freddie would leave him to his sleepy mumbles and duvet hogging, knowing it would be another three or four hours before he resurfaced.

John hums. Freddie wonders if he will ever be able to give back all the love and support he receives, or if John eventually will leave in search of something better.

Then he feels bad. Two years of working on himself and thoughts like these still turn up and make him feel utterly worthless. He closes his eyes, feels his heartbeat and listens to the comforting sounds of John moving about. Resolves to do better. For John and for himself.

The mattress dips, and there’s a warm hand on the small of his back. Freddie turns over and opens his arms for John.

Bile rises in his throat but he swallows it down. "I'm so glad you're here," he croaks, pouring his sadness and his love and the guilt that’s been building for the past week into those words. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

John looks quietly taken aback. He brushes the fringe out of Freddie’s eyes. "You'd do just fine. You always will."

"I'm trying to be romantic," Freddie whispers, feeling sick by his own words, shivering when John’s arms close around his waist, "this is a declaration of love and you're ruining it."

John's eyes crinkle with pleasure. "I know," he says, "I feel very lucky, too."

Freddie allows a smile, forces himself to believe the words. "Good. You're not getting rid of me."

John tightens his hold around him. "Good."

♛ ♛ ♛

The thrum of nerves are still running through him when he wakes up the next morning. He hates it when his friends and family are sad or angry and there's nothing he can do about it. Roger hasn’t returned to his bed during the night, and Freddie breathes and tells himself Brian is alright.

They all eat breakfast together, a rare occurrence due to their very different wakeup times, and while it’s nice, it also serves to accentuate the fact that something is very wrong. Halfway through his toast, Brian’s phone rings, and Brian goes quiet for a moment, then excuses himself and disappears into his room. Freddie watches him anxiously.

"He's going to be fine, Fred," Roger says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Just give him some time."

Freddie wants to argue that that's not necessarily true, that the last thing Brian needs right now is his father dying on him, that he definitely won’t be fine and that if Brian’s not fine then the rest of them won’t be fine, either, but then John catches his eye, and he forces himself to relax.

“Did any of you see the comment that was left on our Facebook page?” Roger asks, putting down his spoon with a clatter in favour of picking up his phone, “they called us wanna-be rockers and Bowie imitators.”

“Imitators,” Freddie says, outraged, “Bowie wishes he had half my charisma!”

“That’s easy for you to say,” John says, eyes crinkling when he smiles, “he’s not here to argue.”

“He wouldn’t argue,” Freddie says loftily. Roger lets out a snort.

From inside their room, Freddie can hear Brian's frustrated voice. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and listens.

"No, dad, a vegan diet is not—" Brian says, "I don't care about that! This is not me forcing—no. It does matter, and it does help! Just try it out at least. For me. I—"

John's calf brushes against his own under the table, and Freddie sends him a weak smile.

The door opens, and Brian comes stalking out, phone to his ear and a hand rubbing over his face. "Yes, two months. I know, I'll send pictures. Love you."

Ending the call, Brian sits down heavily, looking thoroughly harassed.

"Are you alright?" Freddie asks softly, reaching out to rub a comforting hand over his arm.

"Yeah," Brian says, "he's just so difficult. Doesn't he want to get better?"

"Of course he does," Freddie says, "but change is scary. His current diet might be the only normal thing in his life right now."

Brian breathes out through his nose. "I know. It's just frustrating."

Roger and John don't say anything so Freddie presses on, masking his own unease. "Is there anything you need, love?"

"I want to work on the tour," Brian says, "I want to start practising tonight."

"Okay," Freddie says, sitting back in surprise. "Let's do that."

Roger glances at Brian, then catches Freddie's eye.

Freddie looks down, toys with his bracelet. It's unlike Brian to be so decisive, especially in voicing his own needs. Then again, Freddie can understand the need to distract himself. Some days, it feels like it's all he can do to keep his head above the water.

♛ ♛ ♛

"No," Brian snaps, "it doesn't go like that."

They have been playing for just over an hour, and Brian has been relentless in the pursuit of the vision in his head. Roger has kept his mouth shut for the most part, but Freddie can feel John getting increasingly irritated.

"Fine," John says, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "let's do it your way."

Brian narrows his eyes. "This is not my way, John. This is how it was written and how we're gonna play it."

"And I assume you'd like to play bass yourself, then," John says with frightening calm. Freddie attempts to telepathise shut up, shut up, but it doesn’t appear to be working.

"Don't be so bloody sensitive," Brian snarls, "can’t you just trust me on this for once?"

"You're being irrational," John says, and Freddie’s gaze flits around the room, eventually catching Roger’s eyes. He breathes in an attempt to steady himself.

"Oh, I'm being irrational? Do you have any idea what I'm going—"

John raises an eyebrow, managing to look frighteningly disapproving, and Brian falters.

"Fine," he snaps, "I'm being irrational.”

John exhales messily. "Brian, I understand you're going through a lot right now, but that doesn't excuse being an outright prick."

"John," Roger says sharply.

"He is," John insists, "and it's not okay."

Brian has gone suspiciously quiet, and when Freddie chances a look at him, he's blinking furiously. Freddie looks away.

"I know," Roger says, scrubbing at his hair, "but—"

"Oh, that's nice," Brian interrupts, voice strange. It makes Freddie's insides twist. "You're on his side."

"Let's take a break," Freddie says loudly, eager to stop the discussion before it escalates further. "Let's come back in five minutes."

"No, I think I'm done for today," Brian says cooly, putting his guitar down. "You can continue without me."

Roger groans. "Brian, come on,” he says, but Brian is already leaving and doesn’t answer. The door to their shared bedroom slams. “Was that entirely necessary, John?"

John folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the wall. "Yes."

"I know he's a bit …” Roger settles for a vague hand gesture, “but he's processing a lot at the moment."

John lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "Don't you think it's better that he cries it out rather than bottling up and being a pain in our collective arses?"

Roger opens his mouth and closes it again.

"Maybe you should talk to him instead," Freddie gently advises, "I'm sure it would do him good to cry but let's not push him so far we force a breakdown."

John's shoulders draw up. "He needs to cry it out."

“He will.”

“It’ll haunt him,” John says.

“I really think you should talk to him, Deaks,” Roger says softly.

John looks at them both for a long moment. Freddie holds his breath. “Fine,” he says, putting his bass down, “I will.”

“Don’t be mean,” Roger calls after him. The door clicks shut, and Roger stretches. “So that went well.”

Freddie groans. “It did not go well. God, what a mess. I need a drink”

“Say no more,” Roger says, reaching behind his kit to grab a can of beer. Freddie catches it.

“Thanks,” he sighs and pops it open. “We might camp out here for a while.”

♛ ♛ ♛

He’s just adding the final touches—this including giving the backside of one Neville Longbottom a decidedly rosy tint—when a door opens, and Roger appears in tiny briefs and two-day greasy hair, phone in his hand.

“Morning, love,” Freddie greets him. “Slept well?”

Roger grunts in reply and dumps himself in the chair next to Freddie’s, putting his phone on the table alarmingly close to the edge.

Freddie puts down his pen, rotates his wrists a few times, and picks it up again.

Roger leans against him to get a closer look at the screen of his iPad, his bare skin warm against Freddie’s arm. “Are you drawing Harry Potter porn again?”

“It’s not porn,” Freddie says coolly.

It isn’t.

“For someone who gave up after the first book, you’re a very dedicated fan.”

Freddie can hear the amusement in Roger’s voice, but doesn’t take the bait.

“Everyone knows the books are horribly passé.”

“I think you’ll find quite a few people disagree,” Roger says and sits back. Freddie can see him eyeing his cup of tea, and moves it out of reach.

“You obviously haven’t seen dear Joanne’s latest tweet.”

Roger rests his head in his hand and smiles. “Can’t say I have.”

The door to John and Roger’s bedroom opens again, but its second occupant heads straight for the loo without a glance in their direction.

Seconds later, the ugly sound of retching reaches them through the half-open door.

“Migraine,” Roger explains.

“Oh, poor dear,” Freddie says, “again?”

Roger yawns and stretches. He slumps down for a moment, scratching his chest, then moves his chair back and saunters into the kitchen, switching off the light as he goes.

“Need a refill?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Freddie says and picks up his cup to sip at his rapidly cooling tea. He turns in his seat to watch as Roger picks out the tallest glass and fills it to the brim with water. He digs through the cupboard and retrieves John’s meds, fills and clicks on the kettle, and leans against the counter.

Freddie feels the overwhelming urge to hug him.

“What?” Roger demands when he notices his stare.

“What?” Freddie echoes innocently.

“You’re looking at me funny.”

“I assure you I’m not,” Freddie says, “you’re always so suspicious of me, darling.”

Roger sends him a look, then turns his attention to something behind him. “Alright, Deaks?”

What sounds suspiciously like a whimper is the only reply, and Freddie turns in his seat to find a sorry-looking John standing in the doorway. His heart clenches painfully.

Roger pushes himself away from his recline against the worktop, thrusting water and meds into John’s hands, telling him, “just call if you need me to find something heavy to hit you in the head!”

Freddie follows John with anxious eyes, but he’s not spared a single glance. He forces himself to focus on Roger. “So,” he says, dragging out the word, “I heard you and Brian got on pretty well last week. Do we need to revoke your straight badge?”

“I don’t think you’re the right person to revoke anything straight related,” Roger says, reclaiming his earlier seat. He’s quiet for a moment, then flashes Freddie a smile. “Didn’t know Brian was such a gossip.”

Freddie waves a dismissive hand. “Like he’d voluntarily tell me anything. I made him tell me, of course. Don’t have much of a sex life myself, gotta find that thrill elsewhere.”

Roger’s eyebrows immediately draw down.

“Oh, come off it, dear. Anybody would think you’re that boy’s mum. I’m not complaining,” Freddie says, “it’s nothing new that I take interest in your sex lives. Now tell me all about it, Brian is so secretive.”

“There’s not much to say,” Roger says, picking up the spoon from the sugar bowl to play with, “I fucked him, it was … it was good.”

“That can’t be right,” Freddie says, not believing him for a second. “You are the laziest person I’ve ever known.”

Roger lets out an exhale that sounds a bit like a laugh. “Well, alright. He rode me. Happy?”

“Very,” Freddie says, flashing him a grin. Roger rolls his eyes and smiles.

“Listen,” Freddie says, reaching out to pat his arm, “I know Brian is always dying to take it up the ass, but you must demand he top sometime, it feels simply divine.”

“Freddie …” Roger says, burying his face in his hands but peeking out through his fingers.

Freddie laughs. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” he says, pushing his chair back and patting Roger on the shoulder as he rises. “I’ll just check on Deaky.”

Not waiting for Roger to reply, he leaves him to himself and knocks softly on John’s bedroom door. When there’s no answer, he pushes it open. The room is dark, but not so much that he can’t make out the shape of John, curled up in a ball of misery on his bed.

"No," John groans. "Go away."

"What's wrong, honey? I won't talk."

"No, you're wearing something, cologne or something like that. It makes me sick."

"Oh." Freddie's not sure what to do, but John decides for him.

"Please leave. I'll come find you later."

"Do you need anything?" He knows he's lingering, but he can't stand the thought of leaving John to suffer on his own.

"No!"

At John's harsh tone, he leaves the room, shutting the door with a soft click.

Roger looks up, Freddie’s cup of tea cradled in his hands. "You look miserable.”

"Yeah, well," Freddie says, “my cologne smells bad, apparently."

Roger snorts. "You know he's sensitive to smells when he's sick. I like it, if it makes you feel better."

"I know you do," Freddie snipes, "don't think I haven't noticed you using it every time you're going somewhere."

Roger shrugs.

Freddie sits down on a chair, head in his hand. "I don't know what to do," he says.

"Don't do anything," Roger says, "how many times has this happened? You know it'll pass."

Freddie knows it will. He also knows that it’s just not the same anymore. "I suppose it will," he says anyway. Shakes himself. "And what are you to do on this fine day?"

Roger lights up. “I've actually written a song," he says, "thought I'd jam away on the keyboard for a bit."

Freddie picks up a sugar granule and inspects in on his finger. "Sounds ... riveting."

Roger sends him an exasperated look. "I'm sure Brian wants to mope with you if you're looking for company."

"No, thanks," Freddie says, "means I'll have to come to terms with the fact that I don't have any actual problems."

"Worth a shot."

“There’s nothing to do,” Freddie says, “it’s 10.30 and I’m bored already.”

Roger tips half the sugar bowl into his cup of tea. "Go for a walk, I don't know."

"I hate walking," Freddie says, wrinkling his nose as Roger drains the remains of tea, the sugar granules crunching between his teeth.

"You're extremely ungrateful, you know."

"I know," Freddie says, "that's the problem. I want this day to pass."

"There's Tim's party to look forward to. You can call him."

"I suppose I could," Freddie says, but he doesn't move. He doesn't want to talk to Tim when he's seeing him in a few days.

He reaches for an orange in the fruit bowl. Peeling oranges have always had a calming effect on him, and the scent always seems to clear his mind. He's silent while he peels it, making a noise of satisfaction when he manages to get the peel off in one piece, then spends a minute carefully removing the white stuff from each slice.

"What's this called?" he wonders aloud. Roger glances up from his phone.

"Pith," he says, and resumes his texting.

Freddie makes a noise of surprise. What an unusual word.

He splits the orange in half and offers one half to Roger.

"Thanks," Roger says and puts a slice in his mouth. Freddie lets out a sigh and puts his head on his shoulder, relishes the warmth from his naked skin. Boy never seems to get cold.

The door to his bedroom opens a few minutes later, and Brian comes striding in, phone in hand. “Good, you’re here. I need to talk to you. Where’s John?”

“In bed with a migraine,” Freddie says, “you don’t want to go in there.”

Brian ignores him. A moment later he comes back all in one piece, pace still brisk and face unusually business-like. “Right, I’ll be back in a few hours and then there’s house meeting. Could either of you do the washing up?”

“Of course, darling.”

“You’re being very, you know,” Roger says, making a vague hand motion. “Are you alright?”

“Splendid,” Brian says in that same brisk tone, but Freddie doesn’t miss the brief hand on Roger’s shoulder before he’s out the door, leaving the two alone again.

They glance at each other. Roger tips his chair back.

“So this is gonna be interesting.”

♛ ♛ ♛

A few hours later, Brian returns and assembles them all in the living room, even John who’s wearing sunglasses and instantly curls up on the couch. Roger settles in the armchair, and Freddie finds his usual spot on the floor, throwing glances between John and Brian.

Brian looks at them for a long moment. Freddie shifts in his seat.

"I've decided," he starts, pausing to take a fortifying breath. He glances at Roger, who sends him a small, encouraging smile. Brian exhales slowly. "I'm going to Tenerife."

Freddie's heart speeds up. He waits.

"As you know, I've been thinking about it for a very long time, but now that dad has gotten ill, it just made me realise that all this time-" His voice breaks, and Freddie wants to jump up and hug him. "All this time I've been trying to make everyone around me happy, so much that I have no idea what I want for myself. Everyone wants something from me, everyone thinks they know how I should best live my life. The only one who doesn't know is myself, and my head is so filled with everyone's concerns and opinions and it's exhausting, feeling like I never do anything for myself. Because even when I try, I can never be sure if what I do is really my decision or if I'm trying to please someone. And I don't want that anymore.

"These past months have been really stressful for various reasons." He glances at Roger, "and I don't want to go through that again. You don't deserve that. I don't deserve it either. I don't know if dad will make it but I do know he's looking at lengthy treatment, and I've been thinking about what I really want, and - and as much as I want to make sure he's alright, and as much as I love the band and you guys, and I do, I love you so much, this trip is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I deserve to do that for myself." His voice wobbles, and he blinks back tears. "I deserve that."

For a moment, they are all quiet as they process Brian's words. Then they get up as one and envelop him in tight hugs.

"Of course you're going," Freddie says, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His eyes sting ridiculously. "We'll be waiting right here, cheering you on. You go look at some pretty stars."

Brian laughs, his body shaking inside Freddie's arms. Freddie catches John's eyes over Brian's shoulder, and the soft smile that greets him makes him finally burst into tears.

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Brian tell anyone exactly how he feels. A few glasses of wine usually loosen him up enough to talk about his sex life, but to see him vulnerable like this, drunk on nothing but passion and the desire to better himself—it releases something in Freddie, a tight little knot of worry with Brian’s name on it that has been living inside his chest every since Brian offered the first heartbreaking tale of his adolescence over wine a month into their friendship.

He hugs them all tighter. “I love you so much.”

♛ ♛ ♛

A welcoming calm settles over the flat after their talk. Brian seems lighter, more relaxed than Freddie can ever remember seeing him. There are moments where he seems hyper-focused and moments where he's distant, but the weariness that seems to have weighed him down for months has lifted from his shoulders.

When he disappears into his room, they know to leave him alone, but sometimes, Roger will come with him, and despite the slight ache in his heart, Freddie knows that helps, too.

Other times, Freddie will wake up in the middle of the night and he'll crawl into Brian's bed to hold him until his crying subsides, or they'll stay up late and Brian will open up in a way he almost never does. Freddie treasures these moments, keeps them to himself, and while he thinks it helps Brian, he finds that an unhealed part of himself attempts to stitch itself back together each time. It makes him want to talk about Jim, and he does, sometimes, but mostly he lets Brian do the talking. A nagging feeling tells him that Brian is not the one whom he should be talking to about that anyway, and a deep-seated, thrumming nausea takes residence in his body, grows a little each day.

He knows he needs to tell John the truth, but he can't bear to go through the trauma all over again, can't bear even the thought of a shame so deep it makes him dizzy.

On Thursday, Mary calls him.

"You've got to come," she says, easily interrupting his excuses, "we haven't seen each other in forever!"

"I'm just really busy," he lies, bouncing his leg, "can't we do it another day?"

"You're not busy," Mary says, "classes don't start for another six weeks. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says, gazing out the window. The wind makes the trees outside sway dangerously, and rain beats against his window. "I'm just not really in the mood to go out."

"You don't have to do anything," Mary tells him, "just get over here, I'll make tea and we'll wrap you in blankets. You don't have to talk. I really miss you."

Freddie hesitates. The mere thought tires him, but on the other hand, he doesn't think he can stand staying at home either. "Okay," he says, "I'll come. But I might not stay long."

"That's fine," Mary assures him, "just shoot me a text when you're on your way!"

Freddie promises her to do just that and doesn't remove the phone from his ear after she's hung up.

♛ ♛ ♛

"Tea's almost ready," Mary tells him as she opens the door and pulls him in for a hug. "Where's your umbrella? You're all wet."

"It broke on the way," Freddie says. He's just glad it was a plain black one and not his own. "The wind is awful."

"Do you want to borrow some clothes? You'll get sick."

"Please," Freddie says, bending down to untie his shoelaces. "Can I hang my jacket in your bathroom?"

"Of course," Mary says, disappearing into her flat, "I'll just get you some dry clothes."

Freddie pushes his shoes off. Even the toes of his socks are wet, so he picks up both shoes and jacket and walks into the living room.

“Here, let me take those,” Mary says, trading him for a jumper and a pair of sweats. “Oh, I don’t think I have any socks your size. Hold on, Patrick might have a pair.”

He watches as she disappears into the bathroom. After a moment, he pulls out a kitchen chair.

They’re fine now, John and him, but he can’t stop thinking about how John didn’t want anywhere near him when he was sick. And Freddie should have known, of course he should, and he does, but he didn’t remember, didn’t have anything to offer, made it worse.

And there’s Roger, who for all his faults acts like it’s like second nature with his meds and his water and his care, and Freddie loves him so much but he can’t help but compare himself to that, and for the first time, it makes him feel small.

“Here you go,” Mary says, and Freddie accepts the proffered socks with a small smile. “Do you need a blanket? We can move to the couch. Here, do you need some help?”

“It was a little rain,” Freddie says, shaking her hand off his shoulder, “you treat me like you dug me out of a snowdrift.”

“Well,” Mary says, crossing her arms, “you look really miserable.”

“Thanks,” Freddie says drily.

Mary lets out an exasperated sound and turns on her heel. Freddie turns around to watch her.

“Do you need any help?” he asks, watching her pull out cups from her kitchen cupboards.

“No, thanks, I’ve got it.” She doesn’t sound annoyed, but Freddie gets up anyway, helps her gather sugar and milk and put it on the flowery tray Mary has picked out.

"So, how's the new year going?" she asks him as they sit down.

Freddie hesitates, not sure where to even begin. "Different," he says eventually. Not in the way he'd thought, certainly—he'd been sure he would be able to feel change in the air as soon as the clock struck midnight, would be able to feel that this year, 2018—how promising it sounds—would be their year, the year they got signed, the year that would finally be it.

He didn't think he'd be dealing with a grieving friend, his two best friends getting together, and Brian’s decision to leave after all, all within the first few weeks of the new years. And if it feels overwhelming for Freddie, he can't even begin to imagine how Brian must feel.

"A good kind of different?" Mary looks at him over her tea.

Freddie shakes his head, throat closing up. “Brian’s dad has been diagnosed with cancer.”

“Oh my God,” Mary says, leaning forward in her seat.

Freddie nods vigorously, nostrils flaring as he tries to soothe the sting in his nose as tears fill his eyes.

“When—How’s he—? Is he gonna be okay?”

"I don’t know,” Freddie says, “they’re looking into treatment, but I don’t think they know much yet, they only just found out.”

“Poor Brian,” Mary says with feeling, tapping her nails against her cup.

“I don’t know how to help him,” Freddie says, taking a gulp of his tea and letting it warm his insides. He hesitates. “I feel so useless all the time.”

Mary opens her mouth to speak, then closes it a second later. Freddie shifts in his seat.

“I have nothing to offer,” he elaborates, “I hate even saying it, but he’s got Roger now, hasn’t he? He’s the first one he’ll go to. And John, John has gone through practically the same thing, he can offer perspective and share his personal experience. What do I have to offer? And I’m so scared for John, what if it pulls at old wounds, what if he starts hurting? But he’s pushing me away.” He pauses to catch his breath, feeling sick at his own words. It’s not about him. “Or not pushing me away, but he’s—he had a migraine a few days ago and he didn’t even want to talk to me and I know it doesn’t have anything to do with me, but then there’s Roger, and he knows exactly what John needs, and I just, I can’t keep up! And I don’t know what to do, and maybe I shouldn’t even—

“Freddie, calm down,” Mary says, putting a hand on his knee. “What’s all this you’re saying? Of course you have something to offer. It’s not about personal experience or being better at comforting someone because you’re in a relationship with them. You know that. And you’re great at comforting people, everyone who knows you says so.”

“I’m really not,” Freddie says, “I never know what to do, I just make it up on the spot.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone does that,” Mary says.

Freddie looks into the familiar face. “Nobody needs me as much as I need them.”

He hates his own words, thought he had gotten rid of those thoughts long ago. Still, he can’t help but notice a pattern—he never expected to be as close with John as John is with Roger, but now that Brian and Roger are dating, he’ll inevitably come second, and Roger … Roger is his best friend, but Roger doesn’t play favourites, and Freddie knows that, didn’t think he would ever want or need it to be any other way.

Didn’t think he would ever feel this lonely again.

“Freddie, that’s not true,” Mary says, “is this—I didn’t know you were having these kinds of thoughts again.

Freddie shrugs. Feels the hot flush of humiliation at admitting a weakness he was supposed to have gotten over. “Only the past week,” he says. “It’s nothing, it’s not—” He takes a deep breath, fixes Mary with his most convincing gaze. “I’m fine.”

He almost believes it, too.

♛ ♛ ♛

Hours later, he’s lying in bed with John, chest tight. He rubs his thumb over John’s calloused fingertips.

“Promise we’ll never be like Roger and Brian,” he whispers. “Fighting all the time.”

John presses a kiss to his forehead. “We won’t,” he says. Pauses. “Their core values are so different.”

“Ours aren't?”

John seems to consider the question for a while. "They view the world in entirely different ways. That's what makes them such a great team, at least creatively speaking. We're all very different people, but if anyone can create a spark it's those two. They need to butt heads to better themselves and each other, it's their way to get feedback. Us, we don't need that. We're more like each other, we know what we want and we're lucky enough that we both know how to work for it."

Freddie smiles. It feels a little wobbly. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

They're so close it feels a little scary. “John,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I'm afraid I'll get jealous.” John’s gaze is steady and calm. It feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket. “You have to know it has nothing to do with you, but I'm such a mess when it comes to people I care about. I don't want any of that to happen.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” John says, calm and confident, “I know you’ll never intentionally hurt me. trust you with my life.”

John’s words feel like a boulder on Freddie’s chest. Trust is a scary thing, especially when Freddie has an entire back catalogue of ways to break it.

There are so many things John doesn’t know yet, and Freddie is afraid it’ll drive him away if he finds out. He knows he has to spill his biggest secret at some point, but in this calm, safe space, it seems impossible. He can’t do it. Not yet.

John wipes the tear spilling from his eye away with his thumb. “What’s all this? Do you want me to sing Chiquitita again?”

Freddie lets out a snort in spite of himself. “It’s alright.”

His eyes drop to John’s smiling mouth. John leans in to kiss him sweetly. “What made you think of all this suddenly?”

Freddie shrugs. “I miss Jim.” The lie weighs heavy on his tongue, the tightness in his chest so uncomfortable he squirms. Still, he’ll take the discomfort over the truth any day.

John’s smile falters, and something cold drops in Freddie’s stomach. He watches John’s mouth open, then close, and fear pushes more tears out of his eyes. John inhales quietly. “I don’t mean to pressure you,” he begins, and Freddie squeezes his eyes shut, “but I think we should talk about it. It can’t be easy for you.”

“I can’t,” Freddie whispers, forcing the words out from his tight, aching throat. “You’ll leave me.”

John is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is calm and kind. “Of course I won’t. I want to make sure you’re alright, that’s all.”

Freddie shakes his head, presses his wet face into the pillow.

“Freddie.” John’s voice is soft and kind. “Something’s the matter. I’m worried about you.”

Freddie’s chest hurts. “I’m so messed up,” he whispers, “I should never have made you fall in love with me. I don’t deserve you.”

John is silent for so long it makes Freddie unstick his face from his pillow and look up at him. “Why are you saying these things? Are you keeping something from me?”

The tone of his voice makes Freddie’s stomach drop unpleasantly. He’s had disturbingly similar questions directed at him before.

“No,” he says. It sounds more like a whimper. “I’m sorry.”

“Please tell me what’s wrong, Freddie.”

Freddie closes his eyes, feeling exhaustion wash over him. “Can we wait until tomorrow? Or after Tim’s party? I promise I’ll tell you. I’m so tired.”

John looks at him for a long time. Freddie stares back in mute appeal.

“Okay,” John says at last, and Freddie feels weak with relief.

“I’m sorry,” Freddie says again. “I should go back to bed.”

“Yeah,” John says, closing his eyes. “Goodnight.”

Freddie’s heart sinks. He crawls out of John’s bed, shivering when he’s subjected to the cold air of the room, and whispers a soft “goodnight” before he leaves John alone.

Roger and Brian are still in the living room, and he bids them goodnight as he passes, closing the door behind him. As he creeps under his own freezing covers, he feels sick with fear. He knows it’s inevitable that he’ll ruin this relationship, but if John is taken away from him, he doesn't know what he'll do. He doesn't think he can bear it a second time.

He holds John tighter.

♛ ♛ ♛

The next evening, he leaves yoga class a little later than intended. Tim’s housewarming party is in less than two hours and he hasn’t eaten dinner yet, but while he looks forward to the distraction, part of him doesn’t want to go. There hadn’t been time to talk before John went to work this morning, and Freddie was on his way to class before he returned home. He knows there is no way they’ll talk before going tonight, but there’s an itch under the surface of his skin, and he can’t stand it much longer. He just wants to get it over with.

The flat smells of fried food when he lets himself in, and when he enters the living room, Brian, Roger, and John are all sitting around the kitchen table, faces turned towards him.

"Anything left?" he asks, sniffing the air.

"Sorry," Brian says, "we didn't know when you'd be home."

Freddie opens and surveys the fridge, pulls out a few carrots and runs them under the tap. He hoists himself up on the worktop and watches the three of them.

"Buzzed for tonight?" he asks. Various noises of disagreement meet him. "Come on, we deserve a bit of fun!"

"You didn't get only three hours of sleep because someone kicked you out of bed," John says, glaring at Roger.

"It's so small," Roger says, "and anyway, I didn't mean to. I apologised already."

"Apologise to the giant bruise on my bum."

"Why don't you just push your beds together, get it over with," Freddie suggests.

"Because then they'd have to come to terms with the fact that they need each other like a toddler needs their plush toys to sleep."

"And we're not ready for that yet," Roger says, stealing a lone fry off Brian's plate.

"It would also ruin the laundry mountain," John adds.

Freddie shudders. "Is there a particular reason why it's still there?"

"We're being efficient," Roger says, "why go through all the trouble of taking it from the hamper to the washing machine to the laundry basket to the closet to the hamper again when you can put in on the floor and be done with it?"

"Because it's gross?" Brian offers.

"Our floors are very clean," Roger says.

"Cleaned it only last week," John continues.

"Sprinkling water on the floor and mopping it up with a t-shirt does not constitute as cleaning," Freddie says, exasperated. He's positive he wouldn't survive rooming with either of them more than a day. At least Brian is somewhat tidy.

Roger shrugs. "You don't have to be in our room."

"Sometimes that's necessary when Brian doesn't allow PDA in the living room."

"It's not that I don't allow it," Brian says, "just not when I'm eating, please."

"It's not like we're having sex," Freddie says, amused by Brian's insistence that all displays of kissing are kept to the bedroom. "If anyone needs to be careful it's me."

"Shut up," Brian says, at the same time Roger says, "you know it!"

Freddie lets out a snort. "Alright, once you've finished the washing up—

"That's gonna be John and Rog."

"—come to our room and we'll make sure everyone looks fabulous for tonight."

"Must we dress up in glitter every time?" Brian asks, sharing a look with John.

"Of course," Freddie cries, "we've an image to uphold, darling!"

“Right.”

Roger slings an arm around Brian’s shoulders and presses a loud kiss to his cheek. “You can borrow some of mine, babe.”

John catches his eye and slides out of his seat, tilting his head towards Freddie’s room. Freddie grins and follows him, leaving the washing up for the other two.

♛ ♛ ♛

They leave an hour earlier, boots clattering down the stairs and Brian's arm easily slung around Freddie's shoulders. He seems to be in high spirits, doesn't even attempt to shush Roger and John's impromptu duet of S.O.S as they wait for their Uber.

Freddie joins them half-heartedly but is ultimately more concerned about the cold, and is glad of Brian's arm around him. He might look fabulous, but his jacket really isn't suited for these kinds of temperatures.

“God, it’s freezing,” he says. Brian laughs and pulls him in for a hug.

Tim's new flat is minimalistic and artsy, exactly how Freddie expected it to be, but what he didn’t expect was for it to be filled to the brim with people.

“That is dedication right there,” Roger says, gesturing to the tinfoil covered walls. In the living room, a projector runs footage from The Factory on loop.

After a moment's search, they manage to find Tim in the throng of people. "There you are!" he says, pulling them into a hug one after one. "How'd you like The Factory?"

"Impressive," Freddie says, "you've really outdone yourself, dear."

"Gay and classy," Roger says.

Rolling his eyes, Freddie lets Roger be, exchanges hugs with everyone he knows and some people he doesn't, and is quick to find a visually appealing bottle to dip into at the makeshift bar.

It's been ages since he's been to a theme party, and he relishes the opportunity to dress up, even if most people are dressed in black turtlenecks and smoking with a drink in their hand. He wrinkles his nose at a couple of girls in skinny jeans and smokey eyes, feeling slightly offended on Tim's behalf. He looks around the cramped flat but can spot anyone he knows. His flatmates all seem to have disappeared, and he weaves through the people until he spots John on the couch, squeezed in between Roger and a girl who's lighting his cigarette. He watches them as he sips his drink, interested to see how they interact. It's rare that he gets to observe John like this—usually they're at their flat, and while he knows John has friends outside of the three of them, it's odd to see him engage with other people. He seems to enjoy it, if his relaxed posture and easy smile are anything to go by.

When the woman excuses herself a minute later, Freddie slides into her abandoned seat.

"Hi," he says.

John blows out a cloud of smoke, upwards away from him, and smiles before offering the cigarette to Freddie.

"It's bad for you," Freddie says before accepting the cigarette. He's not drunk enough that he can pretend not to mind the taste, and he quickly passes it to John again. John relaxes back in his seat.

"What do you think of that?" Freddie asks, pointing to a couple dressed in lurid pink.

Something about John's ease and confidence makes him feel a little uncertain, but he forces down the feeling, knowing now is not the time.

The skin around John's eyes crinkles when he smiles. "Very stylish."

Freddie smiles and tries to relax, but his mouth feels annoyingly dry, even when he drains his glass in one go. John waves to someone Freddie vaguely recognises, and he's suddenly struck by the irrational fear that maybe John doesn't need him.

He hasn't even realised how much he's grown—in the first year they knew each other, John was so shy and reserved Freddie would have to introduce him to everyone they knew, to hold his hand through it all. It made him feel useful, and as John seemed to grow more confident, for each time John approached someone on his own, Freddie felt warm and accomplished. Now he feels uncharacteristically out of place.

He watches John out of the corner of his eye until John catches him staring. He extinguishes his cigarette in a silver ashtray. "You look thoughtful," he says.

Freddie shakes himself.

"Just thinking about tomorrow," he lies, "we should do something nice." He touches John's hand.

"What do you have in mind?" John asks, and it's like everything is back to normal. Freddie's not sure where it even came from, this pang of insecurity, but he reckons he really should have a chat with John tomorrow, no matter how unpleasant it might be. Not now, though. Now they're at a party.

"Whatever you want," Freddie says. He wants to drag him into the loos and kiss him until the worry disappears, until he feels whole again.

"Lord of the Rings marathon?"

Freddie loses a laugh, rolling his eyes affectionately. "Not promising anything."

"That's good enough for me," John says, draining the rest of his glass. "Refill?"

"Please," Freddie says, determined to have fun tonight. He deserves it. They all do.

While John is gone, he looks over the guests, half of which he recognises from uni. Roger and Brian are standing together, talking to someone Freddie thinks he recognises from Brian's course, and Freddie is pleased to see that they seem to finally, finally find comfort and peace in each other's company.

When John hasn't returned after a few minutes, Freddie pushes himself off the couch and makes his way to the kitchen in search for both drinks and his boyfriend. Whichever comes first.

Tim is alone in the kitchen, replacing empty bottles with new ones. Freddie beams.

"Fabulous party, darling," he says, dipping into a bottle of vodka. The alcohol and the earlier proximity to John has made him feel pleasantly buzzed, and the thought of going home later to sleep off their hangover together makes him feel warm all over.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Tim says, putting his drink on the worktop, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“It really has,” Freddie says. He pokes Tim in the chest, “we’re still waiting on those photographs, dear. Are they fantastic?”

Tim smiles briefly. “I think you’ll enjoy them,” he says, voice low. Freddie strains to hear him over the music and loud chatter coming from the living room. “There’s glitter in this,” Tim says, reaching out as if to touch his eyeliner. His fingers graze his cheekbone, and Freddie stills.

“Not quite Edie Sedgwick,” Freddie says, swallowing, “but I couldn’t go without glitter.”

Tim looks at him for a long moment, fingers not moving. Then he leans in and kisses him.

Struck by panic, Freddie freezes; Tim’s lips are moving clumsily against his own, tacky-sweet from his drink, and his hand cups the side of Freddie’s face. Everything in Freddie’s body tells him to stop, to push Tim away, but he can’t move, lets himself be kissed for what feels like a small eternity.

“Tim? You out here?”

The sound of Roger’s voice kicks Freddie’s limbs into gears and he pushes Tim away, backing up against the wall just as Roger steps into the kitchen.

“Oh, Fred, hi. John’s looking for you,” Roger says. He turns to Tim, claps a heavy hand on his shoulder. Freddie thinks he might throw up. “Tim, my man. We gotta talk. Important stuff to be discussed.”

Tim shoots him a look as Roger drags him away, but Freddie closes his eyes, tries to make the room stop spinning. After a moment, he sticks two fingers down his throat and throws up in the sink.

Before joining the others in the living room, he picks up a bottle of vodka and drinks until the alcohol has numbed the taste of sick and the feeling of Tim’s lips on his own.

For the rest of the evening, the bottle doesn’t leave his hand.

♛ ♛ ♛

His sheets smell wrong. It’s not a scent he recognises, and he wonders if Roger has accidentally bought a different laundry detergent. His shoulders and feet are freezing, and he pulls both feet and duvet closer, unsticking his sore eyelids.

He doesn’t immediately recognise the wall he’s facing, but his head feels fuzzy, and as his body seems to sink deeper into the mattress, he can't bring himself to care.

The sheet is soft against his naked skin, but it’s the wrong kind of soft, and the duvet feels sticky and heavy despite the low temperature in the room. If he slides his palm outside the duvet to rest on the cool sheet, he thinks he can steady the nausea that rolls in his stomach. His throat is dry and scratchy, and he swallows repeatedly to soothe it, breathing deeply to relieve the pressure in his head. There's a reason he keeps drinking to a minimum—the last time he'd gotten blackout drunk had ended in the hospital, Roger and Brian watching him like hawks for weeks afterwards.

Despite his best intentions, a groan escapes him as he rolls onto his back and opens one bleary eye. There are no curtains, but the overcast sky affords little light. With some effort, he gets up on his elbows to look around. There's an untidy mattress on the floor, and he wrinkles his nose. One-night stands are just not worth it, he decides, and then freezes when he remembers.

He doesn't do one-night stands anymore.

Pulse thrumming and nausea rising and spreading even faster in his stomach, he gets to his feet and stumbles out of bed as remnants of last night pierce the muddied waters of his mind. The party, Tim's confession, the kiss, John and that girl talking.

Heart racing painfully, he breathes deeply, tries to calm himself down. He's naked, yes, but that in and of itself is not unusual, despite Brian's protests. And while he doesn't think he's ever undressed for anything other than sex in another person's bed, he was drunk when he went to sleep. Surely that must count for something.

If only he could remember. It feels like electricity runs under the surface of his skin, and with a sinking feeling, he realises he was right. He was bound to fuck this up as well. He's going to lose John just like he lost Jim. Kill another person with his selfishness.

A crinkle of plastic sounds as he steps on something on the floor. His head hurts when he bends down to pick it up, and with a shaking hand, his fingers close around an open condom wrapper.

Something drops cold and heavy in his stomach, the force of it so strong it offsets a sudden burst of panic. Freddie attempts to breathe deep, but his throat is closing up, and his breath comes in short, shallow bursts.

Something is wrong. He feels hot all over, and there’s blood, so much blood, wetting his cheeks, and there’s Jim’s lifeless body and he’s done it again.

He can’t breathe. Something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong. He’s going to die here, palms pressed against the floor, and he didn’t realise he’s no longer standing; he’s going to die in Tim’s bedroom, and he’s going to be naked when they find him, and then they’ll all know he’s done it again.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to regain control over his breathing, but his body feels heavy and sore when the low hum of voices from the living room swims into his consciousness. Breathing quietly, he picks himself off the floor and gathers his clothes, dressing quickly. He needs to get out of here.

Before rationale can catch up with him, he's opening the window and climbing into the windowsill, the January air cooling his flushed skin. His shirt catches as he slides onto the ground, and the sound of tearing fabric makes his eyes well up again and a sad little hiccup leaves his throat.

Feet stinging against the cold pavement, he walks briskly towards the bus stop, fingers closed tight around the phone in his trouser pocket. As he rounds the corner and spots the bus stop, he realises with a start that his wallet is still at Tim's, safely buried in his jacket pocket.

Eyes stinging, he pulls his phone out, carefully avoiding missed calls and texts with John's name on them and instead speed dialing Roger's number.

After two rings, it goes to voicemail. He calls again.

Three rings, a faint rustle, then Roger's morning groggy voice. "It's nine in the morning," he says, "why are you calling?"

Freddie's throat tightens. His feet burn.

Don't hang up, he silently pleads. He attempts to clear his throat but to no avail.

"Freddie?" Roger's voice is softer now, and Freddie misses him so much it hurts.

"Please come pick me up," he whispers, voice rough from underuse, "I'm sorry I woke you up, I'm sorry, I don't know how to get home."

"Where's Tim? I don't have the van yet."

"I left," Freddie says, feeling sick at the mention of Tim's name, "I haven't got my jacket or my shoes, else I would've taken the bus. Please can you come?"

Roger is quiet for a long time. Freddie knows he's going to say yes, of course he is, but for a moment he fears he might not. If Roger discovers what he's done, he's not sure he'll ever forgive him. And he would be right not to.

"I'll catch the next bus," Roger says, "keep your phone open, yeah?"

"I don't have much battery left," Freddie says, heart clenching in relief, "but I'll wait by the bus shelter."

"Good," Roger says, "I'll see you soon."

"Roger?" Freddie rushes out before he can hang up.

"Yes?"

Freddie swallows repeatedly. "Thank you."

Roger lets out a long breath. "I'll be there soon."

When the bus pulls up next to his stop 22 minutes later, Freddie is freezing to the bone. A few people send him wary glances as he sits on the bench with his knees drawn up, but so far, they’ve left him alone. He almost wishes for the distraction—the thoughts that poke his blistered mind leave him restless and exhausted, and even his numb skin and shaking bones offer no relief.

It’s happened again. The one thing he promised himself to never, ever do again. He’s cheated on John because he’s irresponsible and mentally unstable and throws away everything good in his life, and there’s no way to excuse it. The thought of having to tell him makes him nauseous, but Freddie figures he owes him that much.

He thinks about how much his life can change in less than a day, and an odd calm settles over him. He’ll lose his friends, the band, their cosy little flat, John—but maybe it’s for the best. At least he will be free from worries then. Nothing more he can fuck up.

And still, there’s a supernova of burning disappointment lodged in his chest. He’ll take their anger and their unforgiveness, but nothing weights him down like the heavy disappointment in himself. He really thought he was doing better.

"There you are," Roger says, mouth smiling but eyes uncharacteristically serious. He's carrying Freddie's fur coat and a pair of boots which are not his but look wonderfully warm even though they definitely don't match his jacket. "What are you doing out here, you silly sod?"

Freddie avoids his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Roger hands him the coat and sits down next to him, boots in hand. Freddie slips the coat on, shivering when the soft, warm fabric slides over his body.

“Want to go to the other bus stop? There's a bus leaving in 5 minutes."

Freddie nods mutely, accepting the boots from Roger. "My feet are too cold," he complains, as his attempt to put on the boots has him hissing in pain.

"You're such a fool," Roger scolds softly, pulling his feet into his lap, "running around outside with no shoes on. What if you end up with frost-bites?"

"I'll be fine," he grumbles, hissing softly as Roger attempts to massage life into them with gloved hands, "I sat on them."

Roger looks at him. "Freddie, why did you leave Tim’s house?”

Freddie freezes. He swallows. “I panicked.”

Roger doesn’t pause his massage, but Freddie catches a flicker of emotion on his face. “Why didn’t you tell Tim? He could’ve helped.”

Freddie shakes his head until the skin of his face itches. “I couldn’t.”

“Freddie, you'll tell me, right? Later."

Caught off guard, Freddie looks into sincere blue eyes. Nodding weakly, he looks away.

"We shouldn't have left without you," Roger says, "but you kept insisting. I should've known something was not right."

"I don't remember," Freddie whispers. He doesn’t know why he wanted to stay at the time, but he knows himself well enough to know that he has probably been a right bitch until they left.

"Is it because you're involved with John?"

Freddie looks up, startled by his perceptiveness.

Roger looks embarrassed almost. "I wondered if something like this might happen. That you'd start feeling guilty."

Freddie grabs onto the half-truth with relief. He lifts his shoulder in a shrug. "Hard not to when there’s death involved, don’t you think?"

Roger lets go of his feet, and Freddie wriggles his toes. He puts on the boots, tucks the coat tighter around himself.

"I know it's not easy for you," Roger says, "please take it easy. I worry about you."

"I know," Freddie says, but he’s not sure Roger hears him because then the bus turns up at the stop on the other side of the road, and they run to catch it.

Take it easy. He wishes it were that simple.

When they get to their flat, Freddie heads straight for the bathroom. Roger, thankfully, had let him be on the bus, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before he has to tell them. Hours, maybe, before John knows—open, honest John, who says things like I trust you with my life and I know you’d never intentionally hurt me, words Freddie have to live with for the rest of his damned days. He doesn't think he can bear it.

Eyes stinging with unshed tears, Freddie steps into the shower, turns the water scalding hot to get some feeling back into his body even though it burns and stings.

The tears don’t fall. He tries to, he really does, even forces up memories he’s tried to repress for years. Maybe this is his punishment. He’ll walk around a lifeless shell until he’s made his confession. Then he’ll be thrown to the dogs and maybe he will feel again.

He stands under the spray for no more than 10 minutes. Then he dries his sore body, flushed from the heat. He knows it's no use to hide out here. He just hopes he can get to his room before anyone tries to get a hold of him.

Wrapping the towel around himself, he opens the door and makes a line for his bedroom, keeping his head down. He thinks he sees John out of the corner of his eye, but soon he's in the sanction of his bedroom, and he closes the door.

He finds the biggest, ugliest tee he owns, then discards it as he realises it's John. After a moment's thought, he picks it up again. It might be the only thing he'll have left from him by the end of the day so he might as well wear it. The thought makes him feel sick. He curls up in bed, ignores the knocks on the door.

"Freddie?" It's John's voice, muffled through the door but so clearly his that Freddie feels sick. He doesn't answer, hopes that John will go away, will leave him to his own misery.

He doesn't.

The door opens, and Freddie curls in on himself, curls into a tight ball.

The door is softly clicked shut, and a moment later, the mattress dips, and there's a warm hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, Freddie?"

He can't bring himself to answer.

"Freddie. Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't," he says, "you'll hate me."

There's silence for a long moment. "Freddie," he says again, carefully neutral this time. Freddie's heart races. "What have you done?"

"Don't make me say it," he begs. He scrubs at his wet, prickling face.

The hand on his shoulder tightens, forces him to turn around. Freddie hides his head in his hands.

"Freddie, you're scaring me."

Freddie. Freddie. Freddie. His name sounds wrong in John’s mouth, wrapped in love and in care, and he can't seem to stop crying now that the prospect of telling him is so near.

At last he gets the words out. "I think I cheated on you."

“What?”

The word is barely out of John’s mouth before the door opens, and Roger pokes his head in.

“Go away,” John snaps, and the door closes again.

“I’m so sorry,” Freddie hiccups, “you must know I didn’t mean to, I’ve never wanted to have sex with Tim, I don’t even remember.” His cheek itches from the salty trail of tears, but his hands stay fisted around the duvet. “Please don’t be mad, please forgive me, don’t go.”

John stares at him for what feels like a lifetime. Freddie thinks he’s going to faint.

“I’m not mad.” He doesn’t look it, either. The words are slow to leave his mouth, and Freddie can’t read his face. Another wave of nausea crashes over him. “Why are you so upset?”

The words take him by surprise. He clears his throat in an effort to buy time for his brain to catch up. “Why aren’t you?”

John’s face is inscrutable as always. “I don’t have all the facts yet.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to answer my question.”

“I’m afraid you’ll leave.” The words sting his raw insides, and he suppresses a tremor.

John reaches out to touch his arm. A fresh stream of tears runs down Freddie’s cheeks. “You’re shaking.”

“Don’t touch me,” Freddie whispers, “please.”

John’s arm drops to his side. There’s an air of uncertainty around him, and for some reason, that scares Freddie even more. “Roger told me you had a panic attack.”

His eyes snap to John’s before he hastily lowers his gaze.

“Freddie.”

He stares hard at his hands, forces his blunt nails into the skin of his palm until it stings. The words are lodged in his throat. He wishes he had told John earlier, wishes he could get up and leave, but he stays nailed to the bed, unable to move.

“I cheated on Jim,” he says at last, and it hurts to hear the words leave his mouth, “I cheated, he left, ran into a group of guys who’d seen us together. Cracked his head open on the pavement. And I promised—” An ugly sound escapes his throat, and he hides his face in his hands, gasping through tears and the piercing pain in his chest.

“Oh, Freddie.” His skin prickles all over and he continues to cry, hyper-aware of John through the million thoughts running through his brain. “Can I hug you?”

Freddie nods vigorously, not trusting his voice, and is surprised by the swiftness and strength with which John pulls him into his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” John says, “I didn’t know. It’s not your fault. It’s an awful, awful accident, but it has nothing to do with you.”

It’s a lie, of course, but Freddie can’t find the energy to argue. His eyes burn and itch.

It’s another minute before he forces himself to calm down. John is stroking his arm, and the touch feels intense, almost painful. The position he’s in is uncomfortable, and he really needs to blow his nose, so he ducks out of John’s hold and opens his bedside drawer, carefully avoiding eye contact.

He can feel John’s eyes on him, and he braces himself for another uncomfortable question. Outside the rain has started again.

“Do you remember what made you do it?” John asks, “with Tim.”

Freddie winces. “John …”

“I know it’s uncomfortable to talk about, but we’re gonna make this work,” John says, “you owe me some answers.”

The hardness in his voice shocks Freddie a little. “I know,” he whispers, “but I don’t know why.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Freddie bites down on his lower lip, hard. When he releases it, there’s a dent on the inside, and his tongue soothes it while he thinks.

The problem is, he doesn’t remember anything of what happened, doesn’t remember anything past the kiss and feeling trapped in his own body, the burn of alcohol down his throat. It’s been a while since he’s been blackout drunk, not since they moved in, and should he ever need further proof that it never ends well, he’s sure the consequences of this will make him think twice for years to come. If he survives that long.

“Tim asked me if I was down for a shag,” Freddie lies, “said he’d wanted to for a while.”

John’s face remains blank. “And did you want to shag him?”

“No!”

“You have no problem rejecting people usually,” John says, “why was this different?”

“Because he’s my friend,” Freddie says, relaxing a little as he gets comfortable with the lie.

“So’s Brian,” John presses, “you don’t shag him.”

Freddie can’t help himself. “He hasn’t asked yet.”

John looks at him with serious grey eyes. “Is this a game to you?”

“I don’t know,” he snaps, “why are we sitting here discussing my sex life?”

“Because you come home and tell me you’ve cheated on me,” John says, eyes hard, “what’d you think would happen?”

“Perhaps I hoped you’d leave,” Freddie says, chin lifted.

The expression in John’s eyes is a slap in the face.

“Fine,” he says, and does just that.

♛ ♛ ♛

Freddie waits exactly 27 minutes before he leaves his foetal position on the bed and goes to find John.

The living room is quiet and empty save for somebody’s half-eaten lunch on the kitchen table. The door to John and Roger’s room is closed, and Freddie counts five breaths before he lifts his hand to knock.

There’s silence for a moment, then Roger’s voice sounds. “Come in!”

He pushes down the handle and slowly pushes the door open.

Roger is sitting in bed with his laptop, slumped against the wall in a way that makes Freddie’s back ache in sympathy, and John is reading and very much not looking in his direction.

Roger looks up.

“Can I talk to John for a moment?”

“Sure,” Roger says, looking back at his screen, “go ahead.”

“In private?”

Roger looks at John, who still hasn’t acknowledged his presence, then back at Freddie. “Sure,” he repeats, this time much less convincingly. He closes his laptop, then spends an inordinate amount of time searching for a pair of trousers until Freddie loses patience and throws a pair from the open closet at him.

Once Roger has left the room, Freddie inches closer until he’s standing next to John’s bed.

“Tim kissed me.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” John says tonelessly.

“I’m sorry,” Freddie says, “really, I am. I know you don’t want—

“Why do you keep punishing yourself?” John interrupts.

“What? I don’t—

“You said it yourself, you hoped I would leave.”

“I didn’t mean—

“Well, that’s what you said.”

Freddie really wishes John would stop interrupting so he could get his thoughts in order.

“I’m sorry,” he says lamely.

“Freddie, you can’t just come and tell me you’ve cheated on me, you’ve got to give me more than that.”

“I know,” Freddie says, “I panicked, I’m sorry, whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

John looks at him for a long time. “Tell me what happened.”

“Tim kissed me, then Roger walked in, I panicked, I drank too much, I woke up alone in his bed,” Freddie says, “I don’t remember anything from that evening, I don’t even remember you leaving.”

John shifts slightly. “So what makes you think you had sex?”

“There was a condom wrapper on the floor.”

“Could belong to anyone.”

Freddie closes his eyes. “I was naked.”

John is silent for a while. Then he takes a deep breath. “Even if you agreed to it at the time, you can’t consent when drunk.”

“Tim was drunk, too.”

“But if you don’t want to fuck him while sober …”

“Not really how it works, John.”

John falls silent again. Freddie forces his nails deep into the palm of his hand. “I know you didn’t do it to hurt me. And I don’t think you’d consciously do anything to hurt our relationship. But I need to think this through.”

“Of course,” Freddie says, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He almost can't say the words. "Do you want me to leave?"

John hesitates a second too long. "I don't think so."

"Oh."

John lies down again, but this time, there's space enough for Freddie. "I'm gonna read for a bit," he announces, and reaches over Freddie to get hands on his huge Lord of the Rings volume.

"Alright," Freddie whispers. He knows he deserves this, knows John is allowed all the time he needs, but it makes him feel sick. He doesn't think he's allowed to touch, but tries to tell himself that the fact that he hasn't been thrown out yet is a good thing. He can't bear the thought of being asked questions he doesn't know the answers to, but he knows he owes it to John. He will do anything to keep John in his life.

“I love you,” he whispers.

John tenses. “Freddie …”

“Don’t you love me?” The words feel heavy, wrong, but at the same time he needs to know or he thinks he might die.

“Of course I do,” John says, and Freddie doesn’t feel relieved like he thought he would. “But I didn’t think you’d use it to ask for my forgiveness.”

John reads a long time, and Freddie keeps quiet, not inclined to disturb him. There's a crack in the ceiling, he notices, and they haven't done their laundry again. He startles when he feels John's leg press against his own, but relaxes when it doesn't move away. If he focuses on the warmth and weight of that leg, he almost believes it to be a promise.

Hours later, Freddie wakes up to washed-out colours of a dying sunset on the wall. John shuffles closer and wraps his arms around him. Freddie cries himself to sleep.

#a #keep yourself alive #maylor

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spadesinglasses · 4 years

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The Old Guard (Movie)

okay after days and days of seeing the lovely Joe and Nicky just pop up in my youtube recommendation along with the other gay couples. I finally finally got my hands on the movie and found the perf day to watch it.

Okay let’s begin the reaction. Which im actually writing as soon as i ended the film.

First thing first, i was expecting a repeat of the monologue of when they first died on screen again when the scene repeated. Lowkey hurt that it didn’t happen but i can see why.

Second, the betrayal box was shown on the trailer so that was not surprising. Sad that Lala, sorry that’s the character from kinky boots lol, i’m sad about Copley’s character. His reason for betraying Andy and the gang was personally not good enough.

I can see why Copley would be persistent on having a cure for disease. Anyone who had a love one die because of some uncurable disease would feel that way. Still, i call bs on his naive thinking. A bunch of immortals being handed off to a scientist, AND HE THOUGHT THAT THEY WERE GOING TO BE MORALLY GOOD ABOUT IT? AND NOT TREAT SAID IMMORTALS AS RATS?

Really dude?

Is the history in The Old Guard universe THAT different for ours? Is racism not a thing there? Hilarious.

Sorry I wanted to word the above stuff in a more direct way, but i feel like it’s going to be a bit vile and too much so i’ll refrain from saying it. All i’m gonna say is that Copley was not thinking when he cooperated with a white scientist guy.

My bad way of thinking aside. Let’s get back to the movie.

When Booker first came on to the screeen i felt bad vibes from him. Something about his whole thing was not clicking for him. I knew something was bad was going to happen.

Also a sign that Booker and Copley is going to betray them would’ve been when Copley saw that Nicky had his gun on him. I doubt Copley could see from that far. So unless Booker fed him info, that will be entirely impossible.

Moving on, the bullshit that is mr lex luthor batman v superman edition 2.0 and his ranting in that convention. I knew i’m gonna hate him as soon as he opened his mouth.

One thing i hate the most are villains who justify their medical bullshittery.

We all want for medicine to progress.

We are all aware that science is never morally good. And most of all doctors and scientists has the moral compass of a cookoo clock.

An immortal plus a scientist will always always equate to fucking hot mess.

I knew Copley is going to have a reason for why he was working with Merrick. Copley was morally good, he really thought he was doing the right thing, hell he worshiped the gang and their results. Its just that for him, he wanted to have a hand on it.

We can all debate whether he has ulterior motives subconsciously. Or whether it was all just about his wife dying. (my side will be that he subconsciously wanted a hand on shaping the future, but it was buried by his want to save people who was suffering what he went through.)

But yeah that connection was solidified when he talked about his wifey.

Now can we just talk about that scene of Joe and Nicky just spitting poems at one another? Right off the bad we were introduced with a soft spoken and soothing Nicky with a snarky Joe and my goooooood when Joe started talking about who Nicky is for him my heart clenched and I just imagined being the receiving end of both of their romantic gestures. Omfg i would dieeee.

(fun fact, even after watching the trailer and seeing a lot of gifs and edits of that scene, it didn’t click to me that Joe is played by Hot Jafar actor. My friend had to point that out for me to finally get the AHA moment xD. I knew something was familiar about the guy and his voice but yeah xD)

I wish to be sang by Joe and Nicky as they both cuddle me to sleep. Oh to be the middle of that sandwhich ;A; one can only hope.

Oh i also wanted to talk about Nile’s pov with killing. I have no idea how long she had been in the military before “awakening” so im not sure and again this might sound immature, tone deaf or ignorant but, she really joined the military and was surprised that they kill people and taught to deal with it? Has she not heard of the veterans who leave the military filled with ptsd and some other stuff?

At the very least she looks like a millenial and you’re telling me she has that all sunshine and rainbows point of view of the military? This is like Copley all over again. That ranting was really unnecessary and it didn’t even resolve or whatever.

I get it she’s young and new. She literally has a family she couldn’t leave just like that BUT all she focused on is the fact that Andy killed a lot of people? REALLY? THAT’S WHAT MAKES YOU NOT WANT TO HELP THEM?

Im sorry that part is just ridiculous for me. At the very least find something better to hang over Andy’s head. Like i dunno colluding with drug people i guess?

OH OH You know what really made me sure that Booker is working for Copley and Merrick? That is when he talked about his son dying of cancer. That moment I was like “Oh yep this is my confirmation. I better prepare myself.”

I want to be thankful that the torture scene was not too much. I hate plots and tropes of scientists and doctor quacks toying with humanity and such because they are always so graphic and just inhumane. Thank god the director is a woman and we didn’t have to deal with unnecessary testosterone bullshitery that most male directors do for their movies.

I was definitely not expecting to feel sad for Booker. When they passed the judgement to him, It was fucking sad. Deserving but nonetheless sad. Booker hated being alone and straight boy has a point when he talked about how Nicky and Joe have one another. But still fucker got my gays locked up, I ain’t treating him nicely after that.

OH THE TWIST AT THE END. IM FUCKING SURPRISED. AND HORRIFIED THAT SHE MIGHT BE THE NEW BIG BAD.

AND BOOKER POTENTIALLY WORKING WITH HER? straight boy really ain’t learning anything huh.

Im excited for the possibility of a second. I’m excited to see more of Quynh and what she can do. I really hope that she ends up becoming a goodie at the end. I really don’t want her to just die as a villain.

Overall. Despite the lack of solid motivations and conflicts and stuff, the movie is very good. I rarely watch action movies because its always testoroney filled bullshits. and just dicking romance but yeah The Old Guard is right up my alley.

Now for the theories i come up while watching.

Disclaimer that I have not or is not going to follow the comics that this movie is based on. I don’t have the interest to do so so if any of my theories is actually canon and has already been talked about before, and is confirmed, please understand that I don’t do in depth research for these posts. This is all just the ranting of a guy who watched a movie. Not a critique that seem to be very abundant here in tumblr.

Theory The immortal 5

I have not kept track on how many immortals are there but my theory is that only 5 immortals are allowed to exist. When Andy lost her immortality she said that its finally her time, that maybe she finally reached her end goal. Does that mean that Nile was not immortal before that time? I would assume so because her family would’ve freaked out right off the bad when she’s a kid and her wounds just close up right in front of them.

So the immortality is not birth given but rather bestowed when one of the immortals reach their end. Im not sure if it’ll be just 5 or so, but there seems to be a give and take situation with the immortality. We also find that it’s not according to who got it first or who’s the oldest since some guy died first before Andy when we know Andy is the oldest.

uhmm... welps i think i forgot the rest of the theories i have in my head that haven’t yet confirmed by the film lmao.

oh well.

ANYWHO.

I love it i loooooove it

i wanna be in the middle of joe and nicky or just be see them personally flirt with one another. I would die happily.

#the old guard #net art #glass thoughts

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voices-not-echoes · 4 years

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NOT TO BE A CONSPIRACY THEORIST BUT

The Video™️ was put up on february 28th and the wrap party for shadow and bone was on february 29th, so I'm assuming post production began on march 1st.

coronavirus began shutting things down around march 11th, but everywhere was closed down by pretty much by march 26th

despite this, netflix has stated that production is continuing from home, so shows that already have been filmed will likely not be delayed

on march 30th, leigh bardugo did a livestream where she stated that there were rough cuts of 6 out of 8 episodes but there's still a lot to do, including editing and adding effects.

in case y'all have lost perception of time, it is now may 8th.

from march 30th to now is 39 days. we're going to go for the unlikely situation that leigh saw these episodes the day before her livestream and call it 40 days.

according to quora, post production generally takes two weeks per episode. there are eight episodes of shadow and bone, so we'd assume there would be 16 weeks of post production, which is 112 days.

"oh boo!" you say. "it's only been 40 days since Leigh's livestream!" you're right, however I tricked you and myself a little with those numbers because I forgot that filming ended on february 29th so we've assumed post began on march 1st. that means there has, in fact likely been 69 (ha) days of post production.

under normal circumstances we'd assume that there would be 43 more days of post, which would put a release date somewhere in late june, probably on the 20th.

however, while I want a release of the full series, what I really want, what I desperately desire, is a trailer. I need it to get me through.

the trailer for she ra came out on april 30th, with season 5 being released on may 15th. the trailer for outer banks came out on march 31st, with the show being released on April 15th. the trailer for Hollywood came out on april 21st, with the series being released on may 1st. the half of it trailer came out on april 9th, with the movie coming out on may 1st. the trailer for medici also came out on april 9th and medici was also released on may 1st.

"booooo," you say. "that's a lot of numbers with no explanation and therefore meaningless garbage." yes, you're right of course, so let me explain. although there are exceptions, netflix typically releases trailers 2 to 3 weeks before the release of the show. there isn't a particularly consistent trailer date. that means that, to find the trailer date, I have to find the actual release date. I have decided that I will.

I looked at the release schedule for may and april and found a few patterns. obviously the most content is put on netflix on the first of the month. however, while content is usually released every day, netflix originals are usually released in a cluster. to explain that a bit, original content is released on april 14th and continues to be released until april 17th, followed by two days of no original content before the next cluster.

"oh no, marguerite," you say. "these are not normal circumstances, so I think there's no way your crazy conjecture is at all relevant to the current situation." BUT AHA. I know you are wrong. how you ask? I'll tell you how.

drum roll please... there are already june release dates announced by netflix. netflix originals will be released on june 2nd, june 4th and 5th, June 10th and 12th, and june 18th and 19th.

I think you can tell from the way I grouped those dates that i think i can already spot some clusters. the most relevant one for our use is the cluster from june 18th to june 19th. the truth is, I don't know whether the point leigh said post was at in her livestream puts them ahead of, behind, or right on schedule, and because I dont know I can only estimate that post will take about the average time and the release will be around june 20th.

because we know that content will be released on the 18th and 19th and I know that the longest clusters were five days long, we can guess the range of days when shadow and bone could be released. I'm attaching a picture of a note on my phone explaining that range.

in summary, the earliest likely release date is the 15th, while the latest likely release date is the 25th. the average between these 2 is june 20th, the date which we initially said is when post production should end. I would say personally that I find the later dates more likely, but hey anything's possible.

my conclusions? to me, the earliest possible trailer date is may 25th, while the latest likely trailer date is june 17th. however, what I would call the most likely trailer and release date is a trailer on june 5th and a release on june 20th. thank you for your time.

#shadow and bone #leigh bardugo #s&b netflix #put my heart and soul into this and half of it deleted this morning #reward me with a two month early trailer #even a teaser will do

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sasuhinasno1fan · 7 years

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Treasure Hunt for the birthday boy

Finally official, it’s our fav red paladin’s birthday! After season 4, I wasn’t sure how I felt, the poor boy wasn’t there at all, but he did such a good job leading the rebels. This poor boy needs love and rest. So if you pay attention, you might notice this is in a sequal to the Lance birthday fic I posted. I think there are very small details, Lance’s necklace the biggest thing. I even mentioned @fishwrites Watercast, I was craving an update when I wrote this. Again, this whole fic was inspired by PointlessBlog’s birthday that he and his girlfriend filmed. Ok, I hope you enjoy and fingers crossed I don’t mess up this fic. Edit-I tried posting this yesterday but it wouldn’t upload for some reason

Lance tried not to wince as the door to his and Keith’s room closed. Usually he would sneak out of the room to go and surf with Hunk down to the beach or to leave for any meeting but that wasn’t the reason this time. It was Keith’s birthday and Lance had presents to finish wrapping and hide.

The two had been busy all day yesterday and halfway from were Lance had been hidden in their guest room wrapping gifts, Keith almost set the house on fire when he forgot about a pot of veggies he was boiling. Home cooked dinner didn’t happen and then Keith remembered they were supposed to get the ingredients to the cats’ special birthday dinner, which meant a trip to the grocery store and dinner at Burger King as a pre birthday dinner for Keith. After finishing making the dinner for the cat, Lance was in no mood to be bending over to wrap presents. So he made sure to turn the alarm on Keith’s phone off and keep the cats out so Red wouldn’t try and wake her owner up. He had been tempted to stay just to watch Keith sleep more but then he remembered the really big gift for Keith and got himself up.

“Alright you two, I need you to keep quiet while I finish wrapping your dad’s presents. You can help but keep the noise to a minimum.” Lance told the Russian Blue and Somali cats that followed him as he opened the door to the guest bathroom and opened the closet door. Behind the stacks of towels and linens, Lance hide the finished presents and the ones still waiting, as well as the wrapping paper and tape. Lance coxed Red and Blue out of the tub and into the guest bedroom.

Lance laid out his first gift to wrap when Blue started to scratch at the floor length mirror. Lance had been focused on his blue furred cat when he looked at his reflection, eyes drawn to the blue chocker around his neck. Not even 3 months ago, Keith had gifted him with the promise ring in the shape of an Avatar The Last Airbender betrothal necklace. Their friends like to call them the Zutara ship that never happened. They didn’t get a long at first, to be honest, Lance thought Keith hated him. But eventually, as they got to know each other better, feelings started happening and they started dating. Lance had one of the best birthdays thanks to Keith and his friends and he wanted to repay him as much as possible.

“Blue stop,” Lance said, nudging her head away from the tape, before ripping off one last piece to finish the last present. “Perfect, now I need to write the cards.” Lance planned to hide the gifts, the last one the most spectacular so he needed to write the hints in a bunch of cards. Once they were all taken care of, Lance got to work. He hid the presents with their clue cards in the right place, making sure it was hidden but obvious enough.

He distracted the cats with breakfast so he could finally pull out his phone. He didn’t want to risk going back upstairs to grab his camera.

“Good morning everyone. It’s pretty early and usually I’d be surfing this early, but I’m up for a different reason. In case you don’t know, today is Keith’s birthday. October 23, Keith Kogane, turns 24. Yes, he’s older than me but I’m taller, so I can put things on higher shelves. Anyway, I just finished wrapping Keith’s gifts and I want him to find them before we eat breakfast, which I’ll be cooking. Of course, I’m really excited for him to see his last gift.”

Blue meowed at her owner when she was done with her food, making Lance look down to see Red licking at Blue’s bowl.

“Your girlfriend is really greedy Blue. Ready to go wake up dad?” Blue meowed back at Lance before trotting off towards the steps, Red following after a nudge from Lance. He filmed the cats going up the stairs and let Red start scratching at the door before he opened it for them, watching as they jumped up on the bed, where Keith was curled up. Red sat by the pillow and started to pat at the bangs of Keith’s hair, moving to his face when he didn’t move. Keith only twitched his face but still didn’t move. Lance was sure Red huffed in annoyance, while Blue pushed herself under the covers and the lump moved down to where Keith’s feet were.

Keith finally seemed to stir as Red started meowing up a storm. Lance tried to control his laughter from behind his phone as he filmed the whole scene. He saw Keith’s feet flinch away, no doubt from Blue’s rough tongue that had to be licking at his toes.

“What’s going on?” Keith asked sleepily, turning on his back, looking utterly adorable as he looked completely confused.

“It’s time to wake up.”

Keith moaned in protest and he flopped both arms over his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Like 9. Come on, up. It’s your birthday.” Lance said, walking closer to the bed to poke on Keith’s stomach.

Keith just moved his hands to Lance’s arm and started tugging. “Doesn’t that mean I can sleep longer? Maybe with you as my pillow?” He opened his eyes finally to see a sea shelled case phone pointing down at him. “Are you filming me?”

“Yes. I could totally leave this in.”

Keith just moaned some more, still tugging at Lance. It was obvious to Lance just how tired his boyfriend was, if he wasn’t making a fuss about looking embarrassing on camera. He stopped filming and plopped next to Keith, who turned on his side and wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist, looking close to falling back asleep again.

“Keith, babe, come on. You can’t sleep the whole day away. We have to do stuff.”

“What stuff? We can’t have a proper party with Shiro and Allura out of town.”

“Oh, so you can’t do things with just me? Come on Keith, don’t hurt your boyfriend here.”

Keith let out an indifferent noise, dozing off again. Lance sighed, if his boyfriend didn’t look so cute, he’d be demanding Keith get up now. He was fine gazing at his boyfriend’s sleepy face for now. Didn’t mean he didn’t take a picture to upload to Instagram.

Finally Lance got Keith up and into a hoodie by playing “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas” over and over again until Keith almost wacked Lance’s phone out of his hand. Lance planned to annoy him again with the song on camera.

“Can you film me on my camera? Or we’re you going to do it on your channel? Unless you wanted to merge the two together.” Keith asked, running his hand through his hair to flatten it. It didn’t help much. He let his hair grow even longer but he would constantly complain about how he had no clue Allura did it, he wanted it back to it’s regular length.

“I was planning on filming but we could merge them. I just really want to get your reaction when you see your last present.”

“Ok.” Keith looked intrigued, so Lance handed him his first card. Keith tried to open the envelope carefully but the paper ripped leaving Keith glaring down at it. “Every time.”

“Maybe you could use that knife your dads gave you yesterday.” Lance pointed out, looking over at the bedside table on Keith’s side of the bed.

“I think this video would get taken down if I showed that. Thanks YouTube.” It was no surprise Keith was not happy about new regulations YouTube had in terms of what videos could get ads on them.

Keith pulled the card out and opened it. “Should I read it out loud?” Lance made an affirmative hum. “Happy birthday samurai, you’re now older than me, your first present is in a tree. Tree? Lance you know I hate riddles.”

“There’s a hint, keep reading.”

“Not an actual tree, one we have in the house.” Keith looked confused before he looked over at the red furred cat curled up like a loaf on his pillow. “Oh, the cat tree!”

“There you go. See, not so hard.”

Lance got up and followed Keith down the stairs into the living room were the cat tree was. Lance saw the gift in the hammock part, but kept his mouth shut as Keith looked for it.

“Aha! I found it! And it’s covered in cat fur.”

“We haven’t cleaned that thing in like a month. Are you really surprised?” Lanced pointed out as Keith dropped onto the couch and started ripping the paper. In a thin box, Keith pulled out a blue phoenix suncatcher, the blue plastic hinted with iridescent.

“Oh wow, where did you get this?” Keith asked, holding the large wired circle that held the extravagant phoenix near the light that came from the window.

“Remember that online store I showed you the other day? The one with the dragons?”

Keith looked thoughtful before his eyes light up with recognition. “Oh yeah. They had earring of dragons’ wings.”

“I was extremely tempted to get you a hair pin.” Lance said, tugging at the hair that had Keith had been growing, its length falling down Keith’s back.

“It’s getting cut on Wednesday so thank god you didn’t. I can’t wait to cut it back again.”

“I like your long hair.” Lance whined, as Keith pressed the attached suction cup on the window and rescued the card from the ruined paper.

“Having to wait like half an hour for it to dry and brush it through so it doesn’t have knots, is not worth it Lance.” Keith opened the envelop with a bit more success this time. “It’s covered in fur but I hope you like it, the next present is where the mic is. I know that one.”

Lance followed Keith into the office where Keith stopped at the sight of a stuffed hippo seating in his chair. Like the cat one Lance had, it had a t-shirt with Keith’s channel marking on it and held a dagger in its stump. On its lap was another card as well as a small gift bag.

“What did you get me?” Keith asked, picking the bag up and opening it. “Face masks, sheet masks. Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Maybe something along the lines of I want more spa days with you.” Lance knew Keith could not stay still to do spas, but he wanted to share his favourite past time with Keith.

“I mean, we can do it tonight?”

“Oh, I am going to pamper you tonight samurai.” Lance said, almost seductively.

Keith turned red covering his face. “I’m cutting that out. You are so embarrassing.”

Lance just laughed, “Do you like it?”

“Well I know what I’m cuddling when you’re out of town. Is it like the one Shiro and Allura got you?”

“Yep, don’t be surprised if Hunk ends up with one next year. Open the next card.”

“Bet you didn’t expect that last one, tell me where you can find bowl of fun. Hint, my little sibling and nieces and nephews try looking for it. Is it the candy bowl?”

“So smart, this is my boyfriend everyone. Future husband.”

“Not yet. Do not start rumours!” Keith instructed as he went to the kitchen and opened one of the overhead cupboards and pulled down a large bowl filled with candy. Lance always made sure it had candy in there to offer to people no matter the time of year.

Keith moved candy around before pulling out a small jewellery box. Not ring sized but the size of a necklace. In the box was a feather pendant. What was different about this was down the middle and with a small ball attached was a blue crystal.

“Is this from that glow in the dark collection?”

“Yep.”

“Oh this is so cool. Did you get me the feather because of the new book I’ve been reading?”

Lance nodded behind the camera. Keith had been obsessing over a book about a mermaid and avian falling in love. There was official merch but Keith always seemed to miss it. Lance thought it was the best of both worlds.

“I love this. Thank you. Where’s the card?”

“It’s in there, it’s just smaller.”

Keith dug around some more and rescued the small card. “You really went all out on hiding these.” He pointed out as he tried to open the envelop.

“You should see me when mama puts me in charge of hiding Easter eggs. We can still find eggs a week later.”

“Dear god, I’m not waiting that long to get my presents. Ok, your eyes glow just as bright as this necklace, you sappy asshole.”

“That last part wasn’t part of the riddle.” Lance clarified, not even sounding sorry.

“Your eyes glow just as bright as this necklace, where do the clothes go to be speckless? Does that even rhyme?”

“Kinda. Do you know what it is?”

“The mashing machine, in the basement. Which I hate.” Keith moaned

“I can hold your hand.”

Keith didn’t even think about it before taking Lance’s hand dragging them to the door that lead into the basement. Lance laced their fingers together as Keith pulled them down the stairs and turned the light on. The basement was a bit scary with the exposed brick and overall unappealing appearance wasn’t the most exciting. Lance saw the gift and its card sitting on the washing machine but the container of Tide Pods seemed to block it enough that Keith couldn’t see it.

“Do you want me to get it?”

“Please.” Keith would separate the laundry and fold it, but he hated even walking anywhere near the washing machine.

Lance handed the camera to Keith and went over to take the wrapped gift and card, trying not to flinch at the sight of the massive cobwebs forming between the washer and dryer. He hated spiders. Keith hadn’t even waited for Lance to get back to him before going back up the stairs.

“We should really get down there redone.” Lance said handing Keith his second to last gift.

“Or we could move after the lease is up.”

Lance actually stopped filming to focus on Keith. “Would you want to move?”

“I mean, we’ve been living together for what? Year and a half right? I love this place but I would like my office space and we do want a better yard and we are the farthest from everyone. Not now though, but…”

“It’s on your mind?” Lance finished for Keith, who nodded in reply. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind it either.”

“Ok. We’ll talk about it later?” Keith asked. “I want to talk about this seriously when it’s not my birthday.”

“Alright. Come on, let’s go open your present on the dining table and then I can make you breakfast.”

Keith waited till Lance had balanced the camera on a candle that sat in the middle of the table.

“Ok, I think we’re good. I hope this doesn’t fall.” Lance said, hands still held around the camera ready to catch it if it toppled over.

“I think we’re fine. Here, hold this.” Keith ordered handing his boyfriend the card before demolishing the wrapping paper. He pulled out a white sweatshirt with a cat shaped pocket for his hands and at the end of the strings for the hood, instead of plain tied strings, they were black paw prints. “Oh my god.” Keith said before dissolving into laughter.

“Look at the back.” Lance instructed, looking too proud of himself.

Keith turned it around and looked at the single navy bow in the back where a tail would have gone if it had one. Keith couldn’t control himself as he let his head hit the table as he started dying of laughter. “Why?”

“Why not? I showed it to Shiro and he bet you’d never wear it.”

“I will. I just can’t believe you got this for me. Wait, does it have cat ears?” Keith asked rhetorically as he fingered the white cat ears on the hood. “God, have I told you how much I love you?”

“No recently.” Lance said smugly as he let Keith kiss him on the cheek. “Here, open the card.”

“Wear your new cat ears with courage, your last and best present can be found in the garage. Wait, we don’t have a garage and there’s no hint.”

“Your present is waiting in Shiro and Allura’s garage. But breakfast first.”

“What? Lance, no! Lance!” Keith complained as Lance disappeared into the kitchen.

“Lance is being a little shit.” Keith told the camera as they sat in an Uber over to Shiro and Allura’s house. The two weren’t even in the country because they went to England for Allura’s family reunion. He didn’t even understand why they didn’t take their own car over.

“No I’m not.” Lance said, not even looking up from his phone.

“You won’t tell me what the hell could be waiting in the garage or why we didn’t just drive over there ourselves. Case in point, your being a little shit.”

“Ok rude, just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you get to be mean.”

“You won’t tell me anything!”

“You have such little patience. It’s amazing you can do YouTube, I mean waiting is practically part of our job.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too.”

Before Keith could throttle Lance, they finally got to Allura and Shiro’s house. Lance went to their mailbox and pulled out the remote for the garage out before going over to Keith who was waiting by the garage.

“Ok, here you go.” Lance said, filming the very annoyed look on Keith’s face. He knew all this waiting would be worth it.

Keith ducked down once the door started rising and almost toppled over once he shot back up, looking at Lance with a look of surprise.

“You didn’t. Lance, no you didn’t!” he sounded excited, bouncing in place.

Sitting next to Allura’s unused car was a red Ducati; the same one Keith had been dying for for the past several months.

Tears were in his eyes as Keith hugged Lance, who stopped filming to hug his boyfriend close.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes I love it. When did you even get this?”

“I bought it a while ago and it was delivered yesterday and I got Thace to help me drive it here.”

“What? Thace? My Thace?” Keith asked, finally pulling away but his face a mess of tears.

“Yeah, here.” Lance wiped some of Keith’s tears off his face and pulled out his phone and pulled up a video.

“Ok this is really quick but I’m at the gas station with Thace, Keith’s dad, one of them anyway, to put gas in Keith’s present.” The Lance in the video said, as he filmed Thace filling up the motorcycle. “Took a while to figure out, but Thace, think Keith will like this?”

“Keith will be in tears no doubt.” Thace stated before the video finished.

“I can’t believe he knew.” Keith said, hiding his face in Lance’s neck again.

“I didn’t tell him till 2 days ago. I’m glad you like it. Happy birthday samurai.”

“Thank you.” Keith pulled himself away and pulled Lance into a long kiss before he pressing a kiss to his cheek and pulling him into another hug. “Thank you.”

“Say hi!” Lance told all the people sitting around the burner. Their usual group birthday dinner lead them to a Korean bar-b-que place, Keith’s parents joining them in place of Allura and Shiro.

Keith had cried for a bit more before his excitement got the better of him. He wanted to ride, now. Lance had the foresight to get red and blue helmets and once they were on, they were on their way, driving all through town, Lance pressed against Keith as he sped through traffic. If Lance didn’t know Keith knew how to drive a motorcycle, he would have feared for his life even more. Keith insisted they get a table near the road where he parked his bike.

“Keith, am I losing you to a bike?” Lance asked pointing the camera at Keith, who still had his eyes trained out the window.

A hand gripped Keith’s chin pulling his gaze away from the window. “It would do you some good to pay attention to your boyfriend.” Ulaz, one of Keith’s dads instructed like Keith was still a kid who needed disciplining. The tall dark skinned man looked out of place between Keith and Pidge but his husband was opposite him.

“Yes, listen to your dad.”

“What, he’s already getting sex tonight anyway.” Keith said, not even paying attention to the camera pointed at him, though it slipped out of Lance’s hands at the statement.

“Keith, I have to edit that out!”

“Hmm?” Keith truly hadn’t been paying any attention.

Pidge dissolved into giggles at Lance’s red face while Ulaz and Thace rubbed their foreheads at their son’s obliviousness.

“I don’t think anyone is going to be able to get Keith’s attention away from that bike for a while huh?” Shay asked as she helped Hunk turn the meat when she saw Keith’s attention drift back outside.

“I hope Lance is fine with being ignored for a little while.” Hunk joked, just smiling at the glare Lance shot him.

Lance pulled out his phone and opened YouTube, typing in a familiar set of words. He hit the correct video and turned the volume up, making sure to pick up the camera to catch the moment. The first set of bars of “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas” started playing and Keith went from paying attention to his bike to full on glaring at Lance.

“If you don’t turn that song off right now.” Keith warned

“What, I’m sorry I can’t hear you over the soothing voice of Gayla Peevey. Maybe if someone would pay attention to their boyfriend.”

It was a miracle they hadn’t gotten thrown out of the restaurant when Keith tried lunging at Lance. Hunk yelled at them not to knock over any of the food if they wanted to be feed and Thace was able to smooth things over. It didn’t mean Keith didn’t whack Lance when they were leaving.

“I so can’t believe you did that in the restaurant.” Keith complained as he climbed into bed, Lance loosening his choker so he could sleep.

“Had to get your attention somehow.” Lance said as Keith crawled up to him and flopped himself down onto Lance’s chest, his fingers automatically drifting to the pendant on the necklace. He liked playing with it whenever he was close enough to Lance’s neck.

“Still though. Other than the scene in the restaurant, I did have a good birthday. I even really enjoyed that pampering session. Thank you.”

“Your welcome samurai.” Lance said, pressing a kiss into Keith’s bangs before letting his head rest on Keith’s.

While some people would complain that Lance didn’t make Keith’s birthday as extravagant as Keith made his, Keith was more than happy with his birthday.

#happy birthday keith #klance #minor hunay #minor thulaz #mentioned shallura

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