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1plus1kiyoomi · 3 years

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Chapter 13: Thinking of You

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Putting your phone down on the wooden table, you groan in frustration. The piling paperwork and dating life are two different things but are both giving you too much stress. A lot of friends and colleagues had adviced you to stay single and focus on work, but Yaku is right.

You’re meeting all these people just to forget that you met him.

Kita was far from your ideal type. He wasn’t tall. He wasn’t rich. He didn’t give you expesive gifts every day. But he still managed to make you think that he’s the perfect man.

No matter how hard you try not you, you still compare every guy you’ve dated to Kita. He set the bars so high, that even you can’t see the top of it.

You are so desperate to forget Kita that you started dating all these boys and thought that maybe one of them can make you forget him. Relationships only lasted for a day or the most is a week. You’re getting a bad name in industry, but you don’t care.

“Hi, I’m (L/N) (F/N). Nice to meet you.” You introduce yourself to the pilot as you sit on the dinner table he reserved. You take in his appearance and he’s a 10/10. He has blonde hair and golden eyes, and very long lashes. He has wide shoulders and even under his suit, you can tell that he’s well-built.

“Kise,” he answers, flashing a smile your way.

‘One of those charmers...’ You think as you check him out once again. You’re looking through the menu when the man in front of you clears his throat uncomfortably, catching your attention. “If you don’t want to continue this day, just say so.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t feel comfortable acting fancy and all that,” Kise remarks, loosening the tie around his collar.

“Then let’s go somewhere else,” you tell him reassuringly. The waitress waiting for your orders stand their awkwardly, witnessing how the restaurant will lose a customer just like that. “Miss, order anything you want in this menu. I’ll pay for it.”

“Ah, it’s okay,” the waitress stutters, taking the menu from you and Kise.

“I insist,” you tell her before standing up from your seat. After paying for the waitress’s meal, you and Kise head to his car. He attempts to help you put it on but you do it before he can. “So where do you wanna go?”

Kise looks out of his window shyly before giving you an answer. “I wanted to cook for you...”

“Okay, then bring me to your house?” You chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. The tense that was all over your date’s finally disappears as he brightly smiles at you.

“You’re kinder than from I’ve heard,” he confesses and starts the engine of his car. “I have this recipe I learned from a great friend...”

Kise rambles on about the most random things until you two reach the parking lot of his apartment. Just like he said, he cooked for you. You sit at the dining table as you wait for him to finish cooking. Staring at him from the angle, you remember Kita teaching you how to cook rice.

“How many cups of rice do I need?” You asked him, staring at the sack of rice once again. Kita scooped two cups of rice then put it at the pot.

“After that, you clean the rice by soaking it in water at least twice,” Kita instructed, putting two fingers up. You nodded, following through. “Then you strain the dirty water out. After that use your finger to measure the water. It has to reach the second line on your finger.”

Kita took your hand and dipped your finger in the water. You blushed furiously, containing your squeals from the sudden contact with your crush. After going through the whole process, he made you repeat his steps in making rice.

“And that’s how you cook rice.”

“Hey, (Y/N), it’s time to eat.” Kise shakes his hand in front of your face so you go back to your senses. You nod at him with an sorry smile then start eating. “Does it taste good?”

“It’s spicy,” you tell Kise softly. He stops eating and grabs milk from his refrigerator.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But do you like the taste?” Kise asks you, and you just nod.

“Tell me if you want to adjust any taste or something,” Kita said after you took a bite of the meal. It was your first breakfast together and the first time he cooked for you since Osamu prepared food the night before.

“It tastes good but I don’t really like spicy food,” you answered, taking a sip of water from your glass due to the spiciness of the dish. Kita noticed the discomfort in your face so he stood up and went back to the kitchen to make a new dish for you. “It’s okay. I can take the spice.”

“No. I want you to eat to your heart’s content,” Kita stated, causing you to smile. “If you’re craving for anything, tell me okay?”

“So how’s work?” Kise changes the topic.

You sigh from the spiciness, but continue to eat anyways, not wanting to waste the blonde’s efforts. “It’s tiring, but it’s bearable.”

“Work is hard nowadays,” Kise complains back. “I wish to take a break sometimes, but then I can’t.”

“Why not?” You continue to ask, seeking for an answer that will determine if you like him or not.

“Because I need money to take you out in our future dates,” he answers mischievously, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him. “Though I’m not really enjoying my job-”

You cut him off midsentence. “Then why did you become a pilot?”

“Because it earns a lot of money is looked up to by anymore.”

“Babe...” You called the grey haired man as you laid on the back of his truck. You went with him and Rice to the farm since you didn’t have anything to do. “Atsumu told me you the top university offered you scholarship to college, why didn’t you take it?”

“Because I want to be a farmer,” Kita simply answered. He took the towel hanging around Rice’s neck and wiped the back of his neck using it. Sitting up from your position, you continued to ask him questions.

“Why?”

“No particular reason. I just enjoy it and it helps other people,” Kita replied to you. You put on the spare boots that lying on the corner of the trunk and went over to him. “Do you want to help?”

“Yes, since I want to learn about the things that make you happy,” you told him confidently and he just let out a soft chuckle.

“Then maybe I should learn how to vlog, too.”

Your date with Kise goes on. The two of you finished dinner so he takes out a bottle of white wine. After several of glasses, Kise scoots close to you.

“(Y/N), I know it’s just our first date, but I really like you,” Kise confesses, scooting close to you. Scoffing, you face him. “I’m serious.”

Kise leans in you and allow him to close the gap between the two of you, his lips colliding with yours.

It was your first breakfast as a couple and being the romantic person that you are, you woke up before him to make him lunch. Rice lied down the kitchen floor, confused on why it’s you cooking and not his father. You gave him his food before going back to making your boyfriend’s lunch.

“You’re just grilling a sausage, don’t fail this,” you muttered to yourself as you roll the said sausage on the pan with so much concentration. You felt arms wrap around you so you flinched in shock, almost dropping the ladle you were holding.

“Good morning,” Kita chuckled, placing his chin on your shoulder. “I should have asked you out the moment you got here if I knew that I would not make breakfast every morning.”

“Good morning, baby,” you giggled, turning off the stove to face him. “How was your sleep?”

“It was not that great since I didn’t see you when I woke up,” Kita answered, causing you to snort. “What?”

“You’ve become cheesy,” you stuck your tongue out, teasingly. Kita quickly moved his body forward, taking your tongue in his mouth. You pushed him away, gasping then laughing. “Babe, what!”

Kita let out a laugh, pulling your body closer again. He leaned his forehead on yours, his grip on your hips tightening. He’s staring at your eyes intensely but lovingly. “If you keep staring at me like that I might think you’re in love with me,” you joke.

Kita just smiled at you then pulled you in for a kiss. You placed your arms on shoulders, letting him kiss you deeper. His lips were soft but moved roughly. His hold was secure but dangerous. He was gentle with you but he was had a strong aura. He made you smile with his pure intentions, and made you moan with his sensual touches. He made you squeal like it was your first time to be in love, but he could also make you cry as if it’s your last time to experience love.

Kita was the best of both worlds. He was the calming moon, and the blazing sun. He was the cold night, and the warming morning. He was the sunrise that said hello, and the sunset that told you good bye.

You were in an axis. You have witnessed all the different planets and met all these people, to try to run away from him. But wherever you travel, you still see him. Maybe because he was not only both worlds, but rather the whole universe.

You are stuck in his axis. You’re sure of it, because even if someone else is holding you, your body craves for his touch. Though someone else is kissing you, your lips want to feel Kita’s. Someone else is making you smile, but only because you remember your happy moments with Kita. No matter who you’re with, you’re only thinking of him.

You push Kise away, thoughts about Kita flooding in your mind. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

“Was I moving too fast?” Kise awkwardly asks, moving away from you.

“It’s not that,” you tell him, thinking of a reason to get out of the situation. Kise then giggles, scratching the back of his neck, so your attention goes to him.

“Is it someone then?” Kise questions, tilting his head to the side. You lower head, nodding shyly and gripping on the hem of your skirt. “That’s hard. Care to share? It looks like a serious case of not being able to move on.”

You chuckle at his statement. “I guess it is since we didn’t have proper closure.”

“Now, that’s complicated,” Kise hums as if he had not kissed you just minutes ago. “But it seems like you don’t seek closure.”

“Do I look like someone who’ll not be able to move on for years?” You sigh and Kise shakes his head.

“You look like you want to get back with him.”

An hour or two of just talking about your exes, you finally say goodbye to Kise. You feel in ease after talking to someone about your situation. Admitting that you are still into Kita is painful but you needed to let it out.

You head to Alisa’s house, where you dropped Rice off. You talk about your date for a while before you head back home. Your driver picks you up just outside Alisa’s apartment. Rice settles on your lap, comfortably sleeping. And then your heart sinks thinking about your dog.

Rice has changed his job from running in the fields to carry Kita’s towel to walking around the office to get paperwork for you. He’s a hardworking dog whose happiness comes from your smile.

Rice works hard. He has a schedule he follows like its a ritual. He’s caring. He’s smaller from other dogs but his dominance shows. He’s loyal to you. He loves you more than anyone in this word.

Rice is your little Kita.

Aside from you and Kita, Rice had a hard time coping up with your separation. The first month, Rice wasn’t able to eat properly since he missed Kita. You thought that a year would make him forget about Kita, but no.

Rice grabs a random towel every morning then head to the front door, a habit he picked up from going with Kita to the farm almost every day. He waits for Kita at the door every night. Every time you go for a drive and pass by a field, he barks and wags his tail excitedly.

It was painful to watch Rice long for Kita. Because unlike you who can speak and let your emotions out, Rice can’t. All he can do is do the same thing over and over again every day and night, until Kita finally shows up at the door. You both are.

“Do you miss your dad?” You ask Rice and he sits up excitedly. He stands on his back legs and his front paws are on your chest, giving you kisses all over your face. “I miss him, too.” As Rice whimpers from the word dad, an idea comes into your mind.

You know you’ll regret the idea, maybe you’ll even hate yourself for it, but you’ve already risked enough for Kita. So just go all the way. Take that fall. How much damage can be done?

“Head to the airport,” you say to your driver. He looks at you questionably but follows your order anyways. You call your secretary and tell her to book a flight going to Kobe and send a copy of Rice’s papers to travel.

As you arrive at the airport, the staff of the airline company you booked in assisted you and Rice to the plane. You turn your phone off, not wanting to receive any messages or calls from anyone. Checking the time, you realize it’s already 10PM, so you’ll be arriving at Kita’s house around 1AM.

You don’t care. You’ll wake him up. Kita needs to hear what you’ve been wanting to tell him for a year.

The flight to Kobe is fast, considering that you fell asleep in the plane due to the alcohol you drank prior to this sudden flight. Rice is dead asleep in his carrier. You take a cab going to Kita’s far. Your heart is pounding way too hard that you can feel your brain vibrating. You want to back out but you’re already too late. The driver has dropped you off the familiar house.

Rice barks at the door, thrilled to be home. You stand there for 10 minutes with still no response. Finally, you hear footsteps coming to the front door. The door finally slides open, revealing the man you’ve been longing for the most.

“(Y/N)?” Kita asks in confusion. Rice jumps to him, and Kita picks him up excitedly but unsurely. “I thought I was hearing things. Why are you here? At 1AM?”

“I was thinking of you.”

“(Y/N) I-”

“No. Let me finish. I’m not sure if you still like me or not, or if you’re dating someone. But I want you to know that I have forgiven you from the whole Ayako incident. I don’t care anymore about what happened to two of you that day. I also don’t mind if you didn’t have feelings for me that time. But I just want to say that I loved you from the moment I saw you in that video. Maybe I still love you until now. And I’ve been thinking of you every day, every moment ever since I met you. I love you so bad that if you ask me to marry you right now, I would. But I know you wouldn’t so it’s okay. I’m willing to give you my whole life. But I’m not asking you to like me back again or-” you ramble, your mind not even thinking of the words that’s coming out of your mouth.

“(Y/N).” Kita stops you, his voice sounding serious.

“Yes?” You’re preparing yourself to be rejected. You have been expecting it since you decided to book a flight going to him. But at least you’ve told him everything you wanted. You can live in peace, knowing that you have nothing left to regret.

“Can we sleep first?” Kita deadpans and your heart flutters, instead of hurting. He’s still the same person you fell in love with, the same man who broke your heart and changed your whole life.

“Yeah. Sorry,” you apologize, unsure of what to do next. “I’ll call a cab. Sorry for disturbing you. I won’t bother you ever again. I’ll take my leave.”

“No. No. You sleep here.” His words came out as an order, not a suggestion, so you just agree.

“Really? I feel guilty for showing up at 1AM. I really don’t mind leaving,” you try to argue, but Kita takes your hand and brings you inside. You then notice that Rice is already inside of the house, his eyes begging you to go sleep.

“Yeah, you should stay here. We have a wedding to plan tomorrow after all.”

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note: was in a good mood so :>

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exosmutfactory · 3 years

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Six Phases 006 Pt 2

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: sorry not sorry 😇🚗💨🔥

[ contains: romance, fluff, angst, & smut ]

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Somehow, waking up early on Saturday mornings had become a routine since that weekend. Between the plague-like thoughts that disrupted my sleep and how Baekhyun cutely requested for breakfast the next morning, I dragged my tired body out of bed and quickly whipped up some bacon with scrambled eggs. He insisted that my cooking was the best before the flavor even settled fully onto his tongue, counteracting my every protest with flustering compliments. I recall accidentally telling him he was full of shit—it was only a simple meal, after all. What is that compared to the hundreds of fancy restaurants he has dined in?

"Your food tastes like home," He argued between pacifying whines, back-hugging me in a way that always weakens my defenses. I begrudgingly agreed after convincing him to have turkey bacon from time to time. Pork has its place, and I preferably don't enjoy the breakfast variety all too often.

It's ridiculous what lengths I would go for this infuriatingly attractive man. If my weekend to-do list full of breakfast, groceries, and laundry is anything to go by, I wouldn't oppose being considered as "whipped" for him. It is what it is, man.

Every Saturday I am up and running by the time the sunlight breaks over the horizon. Regardless of how late I end up sleeping the night before, my eyes automatically open between the hours of 6 and 7; ready to climb out of bed as quietly as possible. Thankfully Baekhyun is a heavy sleeper who is content with hugging my pillow to his chest while I sneak off to the kitchen.

The aches in my body become very apparent the moment my foot touches the carpeted floor of our bedroom, a familiar feeling—welcomed almost, though I'd never tell Baekhyun that. His ego when it comes to things like this is big enough as it is.

Suppressing a shiver at the wintry morning air, I reach for his discarded shirt from the night before, tsking quietly at the two buttons missing from the top of the material. I swear he's the most annoyingly endearing man I've ever met. There's no other explanation for why I'm already planning what time to sew the buttons back on, carefully picking them up from the floor and leaving them on top of our shared dresser.

Luckily the remaining buttons are enough to shield my shoulders from the cold of the large apartment; the bottom of the shirt brushing against the back of my thighs as I make my way out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind me. In times like these I am grateful for Baekhyun's habit of leaving his house-slippers right outside of our bedroom. I rarely use mine despite his constant chastising. Some things in life are better bare.

Slipping into the slippers with ease, a smile tugs at my lips while shuffling quietly down the hallway. I usually keep breakfast simple: scrambled eggs, a few strips of bacon—maybe a pancake or two on a particularly good morning. Today, however, I'm in the mood for something more. Omelets, cinnamon buns, and the little sausages Baekhyun has adored lately.

Checking on the buns in the small conventional oven on the counter, I whisk away at the raw eggs that will make up Baekhyun's omelet, smoothing out the yolk entirely. A light breeze and soft kiss pressed to my shoulder break me out of my concentration. I could recognize those pouty lips anywhere.

"You're up early," I murmur, leaning back against his chest. Tilting my head up, I smile at his cute sleepy expression.

"Mmm," He manages to capture my lips in an upside-down kiss that melts me to my very core, his warm fingers seeping through the fabric of my borrowed shirt. "What are you up to?"

"Breakfast," I breathe, cheeks warming as he pulls away, quickly checking on the sizzling frying pan in front of me before he can catch me admiring his bare torso. "I got the sausages you like, Bae."

"Bae?"

The top of my head nearly slams into the bottom of the cabinets as I freeze in my tracks, frying pan clutched in hand. Shit, did I say that out loud? My face might as well be 50 shades of red. "I—I mean-"

Baekhyun plants a kiss on my head that throws my every thought out the window. "I love you." He hums, hugging me warmly before walking to the dining table. The view of his bare back as he runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair is way too captivating for six-thirty in the damn morning.

I put my attention back on the pan, hurriedly removing it from the burner to slide the sausages onto a tray. 30 more seconds and I would have burned the damn things had I not shaken myself back into focus. "Jenny and the gang are coming over today."

"Today?"

I raise a brow at his tone. The high-pitched inquiry of his voice at the mention of his friends is a little suspect. Who was the genius that bragged so much about my BBQ short ribs everyone ended up inviting themselves over to our apartment? Shouldn't he remember our plans for tonight?

"Yes?" I drag out, tilting my head, looking at him skeptically with a hand on my hip, raising my spatula. "Did you forget?"

His silent form sitting rigidly at the table is enough of an answer. "N-" I raise my other brow. "Erm—M-Maybe?"

"Uh-huh." If he wasn't so adorable after just waking up with his lips tutted in a confused pout, I would give him hell. "I bought groceries yesterday, so we're only missing the wine-"

"I'm on it." Baekhyun perks up in his chair as if douched in cold water, pulling his phone out of nowhere. "Hyerin," He murmurs groggily, fumbling clumsily for a couple of seconds and slapping it to his ear in his hurry. "I need a bottle of Dom Perignon by 6:30. Thank you." The call is over in the span of 10 seconds. He sets the device next to his glass of orange juice on the table, busying himself with gulping down half of its contents. It takes a while for him to notice my bewildered gaze. "What?" He mumbles; orange pulp on his pouty lips.

I narrow my eyes, lowering the grease-covered frying pan back to the stove. "Who was that?" And how the fuck you just ordering Dom Perignon as if it doesn't cost my entire education expenses? If you just bought the $50k edition, I swear, Byun Baekhyun—"My new secretary." He yawns, stretching his arms above his head with a soft, content smile. "Come here." He mumbles, opening them towards me, his sleepy brown orbs fluttering sluggishly. "I miss you."

For a moment I just stare at him. "I'm right here..." I mutter softly, growing more aware of his current state by the minute. Those dark circles are committing the worst crime by being on his precious face. Carefully sliding his omelet onto a plate followed by a few pieces of sausage, I can't help laughing a little to myself at the comparison of our meals. His omelet managed to come out better than the one I made for me, perfectly solid compared to my result of scrambled eggs. No matter what, he gets the very best from me—I'm taking the biggest cinnamon bun though. That delicious treat has my name written all over it, it's mine for the taking. Besides, I can risk a sugar-crash unlike Mr. 12 hour shifts over there. Noting his drowsy form nodding off at the table, I quickly reach over to start the coffeemaker.

The smile that lights up his face as I present his food to him makes up for the few seconds I burnt my hand earlier, trying my best not to burn our whole apartment down. Note to self: never daydream about eventful Friday nights while leaning over a hot stove. Had I been slower to react, I'd be nursing my hand back to health with a frazzled boyfriend refusing to let me so much as brush my teeth on my own—it gets overwhelming after the first day, trust me.

Settling down on his lap under the persuasive encouragements falling from his irresistible lips, I hold up a piece of sausage to shush his drowsy mumblings. As cute as he is, he needs his morning protein before he can wake up and function properly. Especially after working 60 hours two weeks in a row. I respect his enthusiasm as a semi-workaholic myself, but damn am I worried. What kind of crazily time-consuming clothing line is going on in his beautiful head this time?

Baekhyun finishes his juice while I pick at my food, lazily twirling his hair between my fingers. Some days I ask myself why I’m still here, why I still try, why I continue on in this relationship that has more blurred lines than direct answers about our future. To tell the truth... I never expected to fall in love again. I never saw this coming—never saw him coming, when my sole way of survival has been spotting things from miles away. How did it come to this? How the hell did this man sneak past all my defenses so easily?

Maybe it was the smile he shot my way the first time we met or the way we had danced that Friday night, his body seeming to match so perfectly with mine. His comforting presence and sweet, brown eyes that hold all the stars in the universe. The countless late nights he has spent looking after me when I caught the flu from a combination of lack of sleep, stress, and poor life choices. He's always been there—always been here with me, but why… Why isn’t it enough? What is missing? How can I strip this weight off my chest that suffocates me more by the day?

"Baby?" Baekhyun's warm voice caresses my ear, comforting arms tightening around me.

"What if it happens again?" Jenny's worried face flashes vividly in my mind.

The memories come pouring in, making my mouth go dry as a lump forms in my throat. It takes everything in me to drag my eyes up to meet Baekhyun's inquiring orbs, plastering on another smile. The gesture is easier to manage with every sweet kiss his soft pillows plant on my lips. His heart-fluttering touch distracts my hyperactive mind for a while.

"Damn, Riley." Chanyeol practically moans, the sampling spoon I had offered him left to dangle pre-cautiously between his fingers. "Had I known you could cook like this, I would have come soon—ah!"

"Yah," Baekhyun scowls as I take the last serving plate from the counter to the table with a bashful smile, passing the tall man clutching the back of his head. "That's my girlfriend you're talking about." He mutters, lowering his hand, voice deepening in an unfairly attractive manner. "Watch your mouth."

"Geez." The giant huffs, glaring at him under the veil of his blonde hair. "You'd think you two were married with that—okay, okay!"

"When you two are done." The over-the-top chirp of my voice catches their attention; both their eyes widening like guilty little kids caught with their hands in a cookie jar. "Dinner is ready."

"Don't let me eat it all." Jongdae drawls, throwing an arm over the back of Jenny's chair, looking at them lazily, his brown eyes glinting mischievously. "Remember what happened last time."

Baekhyun and Chanyeol scramble for their seats as if their asses have been set on fire; an unusually quiet Jongin follows behind them, carrying a plate I forgot all about.

"Thank you." I gasp, quickly making room for the forgotten dish. "Set it down here, please."

Jongin nods, setting down the plate of cucumber salad next to the servings of Bulgogi. "I'm sorry Kyungsoo couldn't make it." He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something came up at the restaurant."

"It's alright. Wanna pack a to-go plate for him?" Tilting my head, I smile in understanding at the sheepish expression on his face. "If you think he'd like my food, anyway," I joke, resting my arm on the back of my chair as I continue to face him, relieved at the familiar hint of playfulness restored in his eyes.

"Oh he's going to love it," Chanyeol insists with a pleased hum, yelping at the smack Jenny lands on his sneaky hand.

"Where are your manners, Park?" She sighs, shaking her head, fiery red curls bouncing with the motion.

"Save some for the rest of us, asshole." Jongdae grumbles, subtly eyeing the cucumber salad.

Everyone's plate already has a soft taco shell, warm from a few seconds in the microwave. The toppings are placed on top of the two tables Baekhyun and I had to push together to accommodate our guests: fresh Korean lettuce, sour cream, and other ingredients that Jenny helped me choose—especially that bowl of melted nacho-cheese Jongin keeps taking glances at.

We all look towards Baekhyun once he settles in his seat. He leans forward to reach the middle of the table, bypassing the regular bulgogi for the one drenched in a home-made sauce, spooning some on my taco shell with a chaste kiss to my cheek. "Eat up, everyone," He murmurs sweetly, tired brown eyes twinkling.

Jongdae doesn't even fake-gag with Chanyeol and Jongin, he goes straight for the cucumber salad. The fresh smell wafts in the air amongst the various meat and spices, making Baekhyun's nose crinkle adorably. I carefully brush his freshly dyed hair out of his eyes, chuckling at the pout he shoots my way. "Did you really have to make cucumber salad, baby? Cucumber?"

"One man's trash is another man's treasure, Byun," Jongdae mutters, forgoing his personal bowl to grab the whole serving. No one says a word, we just share knowing smiles. And once Chanyeol pops the cork of the expensive Dom Perignon, the real party begins.

Endless tales of embarrassing high school cafeteria incidents spill forth from Jongdae's mouth as if shame has gone out of style. The details he shares at the expense of Chanyeol's seemingly innocent public image flying out the window right along with it.

"One second this guy looked like he was taking the biggest shit of his life, and the next thing I know, Lee Naeun from 5th period Physics is crawling out from under the table, wiping spulge from her lips. Like, Chanyeol, what the actual fuck bro? Couldn't you have taken your business to the 3rd floor Janitor's closet? I think I still have the key..."

If it wasn't for Baekhyun's quick hands, I would've sprayed a mouthful of wine across the entire table.

Unfortunately, Jongin had to head out right after dinner, promising to meet up again soon before hurrying to Kyungsoo's house, two plates clutched in hand. Chanyeol decided to stick around for longer to "let his two glasses of wine wear off"—this man has the metabolism of a beast, we know why he's really here. His reason is comfortably seated next to Jenny on our striped couch, sock-clad feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Dinner was nice," Jenny smiles, sipping leisurely at her water.

"More than nice." Chanyeol boosts from our leather recliner, raising his glass, tipping his head at me. "Your food damn near tops Kyungsoo's," He pauses, brown eyes widening. "Don't tell him I said that."

"No worries," I laugh softly, hiding in the safety of Baekhyun's shoulder. He shifts towards me, finishing his wine and setting the empty glass on the coffee table before wrapping an arm around my waist, brushing his lips against my forehead in a way that leaves my heart shaking. The white loveseat we're sitting on sinks further under our joined weight, and really, there's no place I'd rather be—except our king sized bed, that is. Baekhyun's firm grip on my bare thigh isn't helping my tipsy trance in the slightest. The universe knows I'd rather be getting drunk off of him right now.

"I'm going for a smoke," Jongdae mutters, rising from the couch. He leans down to Jenny for a kiss that leaves her beaming, going to retrieve his trench coat and shoes before slipping out of the door.

Good to see them doing well; I blink in surprise, smiling teasingly her way. I'm happy for her! It really is a pleasant surprise to see Jongdae stating their relationship in such a way; an immense improvement from their past encounters of Jenny nervously seeking affection and Jongdae down-right dodging it like his life depends on it. Public displays of affection are a sweet, straightforward way to say, "hey, this person means a lot to me," or, "back off, they're mine." Which personally sets me on romantic fire. Even if it's just holding hands, it can put me in high spirits—doing it with a certain, cheeky silver-haired man is just a bonus.

Jenny winks, fanning her cheeks that match the rosy shade of her hair before tuning in to Chanyeol's loud chatter.

Soft laughter rumbles in Baekhyun's chest as he engages in the conversation. His warm palm securely holds my hand when I slip my cold palm into his warm one. He presses a kiss to the back of it, pulling a silent giggle from my lips as he smiles at me with an arched brow, squeezing our intertwined fingers.

"Riley?"

I drag my eyes up to Jenny who's loosening her red curls by running her fingers through them. "Yeah?"

"Jongdae's not answering his cell," She murmurs with a worried frown. "Can you go check on him, please?"

And why can't you do it? — Or come with me for that matter? I raise a brow, getting up from the chair and Baekhyun's warmth with a silent sigh. "Okay. I'll be back." If I get kidnapped or spooked by some random asshole, she'll never hear the end of it. I really should ask Baekhyun to teach me a thing or two about hakipdo though.

Jenny beams, a peculiar twinkle in her eye, clasping my hand between hers. "Thank you!"

Uh-huh... I try not to eye her too warily.

"Take my coat, baby," Baekhyun murmurs, kissing the side of my wrist. "It's cold out."

"O-Okay." I clear my throat, pointedly avoiding the smug smiles of the other two in the room while walking over to the coat hanger.

Slipping on his brown, cinnamon-scented coat brings a giddy smile to lips—one I'm quick to hide in the soft fabric.

I slide on my boots before making my way to the elevator, not up for taking the 4 levels of stairs this late at night. Thankfully, that nosy neighbor down the hall isn't meeting me at the elevator tonight on one of his various late-night escapades. I've had enough awkward encounters with his lovers to last me a lifetime.

The lobby is empty except for a lone security guard who waves my way, face lit up in familiarity. Smiling back, I step out the crystal-clean glass doors of the building into the quiet night, quickly finding the man I'm looking for standing at the edge of the sidewalk. "Jongdae."

"Huh?" He looks over his shoulder, turning halfway at the sight of me, pulling a joint from his lips.

"You alright?" I pull Baekhyun's coat tighter around me, resisting the urge to shiver in the icy wind. "Jenny was looking for you."

"Looking for-" He chuckles, brown hair ruffling as he throws his head back in laughter. "Girl, please. I was instructed to come down here 5 minutes ago." He continues, inhaling deeply from the stick between his fingertips. "She ain't looking for me, she's looking for a way for them to chat privately and to make us talk..." He sighs, looking over at me. "I'm not exactly the best company for deep shit."

"O-kay then," I mumble, more than a little peeved, ready to turn on my heel in any direction other than stay here.

"Let's talk." He shrugs, exhaling smoke into the frosty air. I shoot him a wary look, barely taking a step in his direction. "I said let's talk, not have a screaming match." He mutters, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. "Why you all the way over there?" He follows my gaze to the stick between his fingers. "What? This?" He scoffs, smirking. "It's a joint, worst thing you'll get is the munchies."

Crinkling my nose, I take a couple more steps closer anyway, standing beside him, keeping a respectful distance between us.

"Listen." He sighs, taking another drag. "I know I've done some things that… I didn't necessarily have to do." He glances at me for a moment, and then faces the street lights. "Bros before hoes, you know?"

Yeah, I inwardly roll my eyes, focusing on a lonely snowflake evaporating before it reaches the ground. There's a lot to be said over people doing things that they didn't necessarily have to do. If I had a dime for every sleepless night I've had because of Jongdae's shameless mouth, I wouldn't be paying off my student loans anymore.

"Look." Jongdae takes one last drag, crushing the joint under his worn-out winter boots. "The way he is now is much better than the Baekhyun we knew back then." He nods a little to himself, meeting my gaze. "Still can't see why he decided to change his ways for you...but oh well." He mutters, lips quirking into a playful smirk at my small smile before facing the city lights again. Festival lamp-shaped snowflakes attached to the top of every streetlight beam against the dim backdrop of empty downtown buildings, prepared for the coming holidays. "You're alright for a best friend stealer."

A laugh escapes before I can slap my hands over my mouth, meeting his eye nervously only for us to both end up laughing; our amusement echoing loudly through the quiet night.

"Riley?" Jenny's confused voice peeps up, red curls rebelling against the hood of her fluffy white coat.

"Over here!" I cup my hand around my mouth, waving to get her attention.

She turns towards us, rounding the corner with quick strides. "There you are! I thought you got grabbed or something." She fusses, resting a hand on my arm, leaning closer to whisper in my ear, "Especially you. Baekhyun was two seconds from hunting you down with my head on his mantle."

"Jenny!" I snort, accepting her tight hug, my voice muffled in her puffy coat. "It kinda would be your fault though."

"I know!" She exclaims, viewing me from an arm's length away. "I was sweating out my hair."

"Baby?" That unmistakable honey voice calls. A head of fluffy silver locks and brown eyes peek around the building, catching light in the streetlights.

"Here, B," I soothe, chuckling as he speeds over to us, gathering me in his arms without hesitation.

"I thought I lost you," He mutters, hiding in my hair.

"She was gone for ten minutes," Jongdae deadpans.

"Ten minutes too long!" He pulls back to glare over at the brunet, hugging me to his chest with cheeks too rosy to be merely from a few moments out in the cold.

"Just how much of that wine did you drink?.." I narrow my eyes, cupping his flushed cheeks.

"Good thing you only bought one bottle," Jenny laughs nervously, slowly gravitating to shelter behind Jongdae's taller form.

"Enough to miss you." Baekhyun's breath leaves goosebumps on my chilled skin, his soft lips brushing my ear.

"Al-right, time to go before the lovebirds start mating." Jongdae grumbles, wrapping an arm around Jenny's beaming form. Their matching smirks have me scurrying to direct my tipsy boyfriend back towards our apartment.

"Uh—okay! See you guys next time!" I laugh to mask my burning face, gently pushing Baekhyun into the building.

"Goodnight! Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jenny sing-songs, the smugness clear in her tone.

"Can't make any promises!" Baekhyun proclaims over his shoulder, much to my embarrassment. Thankfully he quiets down once we reach the elevator, but based on the wide eyed security guard, the damage has already been done.

Can the frozen ground just please open up and swallow me whole?

The view of this busy street differs from all the other times I've walked down it with Baekhyun by my side. Maybe because it's been almost 2 years since I've moved to this city, or that new boutique being set up at the end of the road. Whatever the case, the air is different—crisper, cleaner. Refreshing as I briskly walk to my destination, wanting to avoid being out in the cold as much as possible. The weather here is so much colder in the middle of December compared to how flowers were still budding around this time outside of my childhood home.

Humming a song that's been stuck in my head for days with my car keys spinning around my finger, I stroll into Privé Alliance's building, admiring the latest clothing line pictures hung up along the walls and waving to the new receptionist while making my way to the elevator. Many men and women in business attire are all over the place as per usual during the busiest months of the year. However, once I make it out of the crowd of chattering employees, the sight of a familiar face waiting in front of the elevator brings a smile to my face. "Kyungsoo!"

The short-haired man turns around. "Hello, Riley." He nods with a small smile as we step inside the open doors, pressing the buttons to the 5th and top floor. "Lunch date?"

"Hmm?.." Blinking a few times, I follow his gaze to the picnic basket clutched in my hand. "Oh! Yes." I chuckle, smoothing down my hair. "Sorry." Between nearly slipping on a patch of ice on the way over here and the pretty lights decorated all over the city, I've forgotten the reason I left our fridge in a disarray this morning. Who decided to store the sandwich meats at the back of the refrigerator? I know Baekhyun loves my home cooking, but damn, man, let me have a break too.

"It's alright." Kyungsoo chuckles, arching a brow. "Hopefully you can get him to relax."

"Relax? Coming from you!?" I gasp sarcastically, covering my mouth with wide eyes.

"Only because he's seconds away from firing half the 3rd floor." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, yet an apologetic smile forms on his face. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the gathering." He clears his throat while facing forward again, straightening his suit.

"It's alright," I smile, resisting the urge to chuckle at his flustered state, checking my outfit in the elevator's reflection. It may be a chilling 40 degrees—4 in celsius—but I can spare the warmth of my legs for a 2 minute walk from Privé's parking lot. No weather can tell me what I can and can't wear. If I want to rock a pencil skirt on the coldest day of the week, so be it! Plus, these two-inch heels couldn't be left behind. I can't show up at Baekhyun's workplace with the poor fashion choices I subject him to at home, so we're going, coolness over comfort.

"Life happens," I mumble, tucking rebellious locks of hair behind my ear. "I'm just glad you're doing okay." The smile that forms on his heart-shaped lips when I take a glance at him makes me beam back.

"I'll stop by sometime this week." He hums, black dress shoes tapping on the floor. "I just finished a new recipe."

"Recipe?" I blink, mildly intrigued, mentally running over the list of food I'm carrying for the 3rd time today.

"Fried ice cream cake," He smirks, nonchalantly checking his watch.

"Fried-" My jaw damn near drops to the floor. Fried? Fried!? The one ice cream Baekhyun banned me from attempting myself after burning my hand while frying fish a few days ago?! Which Baekhyun is half to blame, by the way—never sneak up on someone over a popping frying pan. It never ends well. Besides that, it also was the day I truly realized the stamina that man possesses. I have never seen someone react so quickly to shove my hand under ice-cold water in my life.

Searching for any cameras in the elevator, I step a little closer to the short-haired man, whispering discreetly behind my hand, "W-Will you bring me some?"

"The prettiest one," He promises, softly patting my shoulder, chuckling at the star-struck expression written all over my face. "This is me, I'm afraid."

"Huh?" I blink into focus, shocked to be on the 5th floor so soon. What the heck. What is it about elevator rides with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo that make them go by lightning-fast compared to the stifling, tension-filled ones with Jongdae? If you can read a room, it truly makes a difference. "Oh, don't let me keep you." I give a little wave, balancing the picnic basket on my forearm. "See you later!"

Kyungsoo nods, smiling with a wave of his own as the double doors close. It is at that moment that I freeze, recalling how Baekhyun mentioned he hired a new secretary a few weeks back. Well... shit—how do I explain why I'm arriving at his floor unannounced on a random Tuesday afternoon?

Do his employees even know we are dating?.. A small part of me doubts it. Why do I care? Oh, right—I fucking live with him!

By some miracle, no one is occupying the neatly arranged desk when the elevator opens on the top floor, saving me from the completely rushed explanation I have no idea how to even put into words. All that lies before me is an undisturbed walk to Baekhyun's office, the intimidating black door slightly ajar. I slip off my heels, rushing out of the elevator on sock-clad feet before the doors close. Baekhyun's businessman voice filters through the quiet air. He must be on the phone.

Shuffling as quietly as possible down the hallway, I peek into his office. My eyes quickly find his broad form leaning a hip against his executive desk, a phone pressed to his ear as he faces the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the heart of Seoul. Impeccably dressed in a wrinkle-free, white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up. His black blazer thrown over the back of his chair. Like always, the splashes of color in every corner of the room have my lips curling up, but I have to muffle a small giggle at the sight of a thin pink measuring tape hanging around his neck.

I slowly inch closer, discarding my coat and setting down the basket in one of the leather chairs. Smoothing my flower-patterned, white button-down shirt, I silently approach him, gently covering his eyes once he ends the call. "Guess who~"

Baekhyun stiffens for a moment before swiftly turning around, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up, setting me down on his desk. He cups my cheeks in his warm palms, crashing his lips to mine before I can make a sound. "Thank god, it's you." He breathes, warm fingers sliding into my hair.

"W-Well—hello to you too." I barely manage to get out between his feverous kisses, making a noise in surprise when he pulls me flush to his chest. "What is it?" I ask softly, noticing the bothered look on his face; carefully running my fingers through his styled hair as he hides in my neck. "Another long day?"

"You have no idea." He sighs, looking up at me. "I was 2 seconds away from losing it."

"Don't-" I pause, thinking about it. A few memories of last week flash through my mind. "Well, you are kind of hot when you're angry..." In the proper context.

Baekhyun perks up, exhausted brown eyes regaining their sparkle. "Really?"

I hum to appease his hopeful expression, yelping when he pulls me into his arms, not expecting to be carried up from the desk so suddenly.

"Come here," He murmurs, walking around to sit in his chair, setting me on his lap. "I need strength to get through these reports."

Gently playing with his hair to calm down my racing heart, I tilt my head, "Do you have time for a lunch break?"

Baekhyun hums distractedly, kissing my forehead, holding me closer to his firm chest. "We can order in a little later."

Kyungsoo's words come back to mind while I watch Baekhyun continue to click around his computer, brown eyes squinted and brows furrowing more by the minute. I inwardly cringe at the move I'm about to pull, but… Our sandwiches' lifespan is ticking away. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"But…" I pout, resting my hands flat on his chest, widening my eyes for effect as his focused orbs shift to meet mine. "But I made it."

"Let's eat now then," Baekhyun smiles, his steady gaze flickering all over my person. I swear I just witnessed his pupils dilating right before my very eyes. "Give me 5 minutes."

My lips quirk up, "One-"

"I'll set a timer." He laughs, shaking his head, reaching for his phone between his bright screen laptop and desktop PC.

Smiling in victory, I stretch across the desk to retrieve the basket, peeking at his computer accidentally. "Holy shit, is that Melody Hudson?" I straighten up, focusing on the magazine cover opened up on a famous website. "The model?" My eyes widen in awe of her tall blonde form modeling a stunning royal blue summer dress; the color bringing out the blue in her shining eyes. I place the basket on a clear spot on Baekhyun's crowded desk before rubbing his stiff shoulders. He must still be tense from work. "She's so pretty."

Baekhyun hums, placing a hand on my cheek. His gentle caress coaxes my eyes back to his. "But you're beautiful," He whispers, resting his forehead on mine, brushing a thumb over my lips.

There's nowhere to hide the red hue that springs onto my face, making him chuckle as I quickly turn back to start taking out our food.

"Would you like to accompany me to a photoshoot?" The tentative tone of his voice has me raising a brow.

"Sure!" Handing him his sandwich, I press a kiss to his cheek, carefully unwrapping my homemade fries. "I'd love to see you work behind the scenes."

"Actually..."

I look at him, mid-bite of my toasted turkey sandwich.

"I'll be in the scenes," He drops, soft lips quirking a boyish grin.

My grip on my sandwich rips a hole in the middle while preventing it from falling out of my hands. "I…"—Behind the scenes witnessing Baekhyun modeling?? With his god-tier body and knee-weakening smirks that have me crumbling from beyond a screen alone? Hell to the mother fucking yes! "O-Okay."

Baekhyun's brown orbs twinkle knowingly, an amused smile forming on his lips as he presses them to mine. "Great."

It's impossible to mask my excitement while slipping into the passenger seat of Baekhyun's Audi. The beautiful red highlights around the black interior never fail to leave my jaw dropped in awe, fingertips tempted to graze over every surface. I'd like to think a person's dream car matches their owner, and there's no denying how devilishly divine my boyfriend looks settling into the driver's seat.

Baekhyun's simple, black button-down shirt and matching jeans have me inwardly salivating—I don't even have the slightest clue of why he's going to a photoshoot today. Privé? A cover for a magazine? Possibilities are endless, but not just anyone can request an hour of his time during one of the busiest months of the year.

"Are you ready?" Baekhyun glances over at me, his unstyled hair tucked under a Privé corduroy camel baseball cap that I haven't quite seen before.

"Yes," I beam at him, tilting my head curiously. "Is that hat new? I don't think I've seen it before."

Baekhyun smirks, brown eyes glinting mischievously as he straps on his seatbelt. "Maybe." He rests a hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh, backing out of his designated parking space. "Hold on tight, baby. You're in for a long ride."

I blink, having no clue what kind of ride he means. When it comes to Baekhyun, you never know what you're getting yourself into, but you never really have to worry about it either. If I hadn't known him for a few years, I would have bugged him to tell me where we're going for the entire ride. But with a few years under our belt—and some long months spent sharing a close-knitted home—I can comfortably sit back and relax for the whole journey, because there is no Baekhyun without one.

•••

The parking lot outside of the building is relatively calm, with only a few staff members bringing in materials from their cars. Inside of the place, however, is a complete madhouse. Everyone is speed-walking to various rooms and popping up from behind every corner. Not a drop of silence in the heavily populated area.

"There's our man of the hour!" A tall, aged man steps forward to shake Baekhyun's hand, carefully cradling a camera strapped around his neck. "So glad you could make it. I hope we are not taking up too much of your time?" He inquires, pushing glasses further up his nose, glancing over at me.

"Oh no, of course not!" Baekhyun shakes his head, shifting closer to wrap an arm around my waist. "I invited my girlfriend to accompany me today." He clears his throat, reddening cheeks caught under the harsh spotlights. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," The man reassures, gesturing towards a staff member who quickly brings over a grey single-seat sofa. "The more the merrier. Here you go, Madam. Is the chair to your liking?"

"Yes, thank you," I smile, trying not to stutter, brushing my fingertips over Baekhyun's warm palm before taking a seat. He shoots me a little bashful grin as the photographer whisks him away, a team of stylists directing him to a chair on the opposite side of the room. It's amusing to see so many people fussing over his hair, pulling out hairspray, and presenting him with simple yet sexy articles of clothing.

A few other models are walking around in the same attire, giving off a cool vibe of the newest clothing line, but when Baekhyun steps out of a dressing room…

Holy shit.

No, seriously holy shit!

Baekhyun walks into the room, standing against a wall as stylists comb his hair over to the left side of his face, using sprites of hairspray to tuck the right side behind his ear. As if he doesn't look dangerous enough adorning a leather jacket, a black shirt with white scribbles I can barely make out from this distance, and camel pants with unique, black low-platinum shoes.

The staff directs him over to the area with a gray backdrop, lights and cameras focused all over the place. Baekhyun practically glides over there, oozing with that stunning Ceo confidence. At a closer look, I can make out the pretty image of open and outstretched hands in the white lines at the bottom of his shirt. The intriguing detail has my full attention until I feel a persistent stare.

I lift my eyes higher to meet Baekhyun's dark brown orbs—from me sitting in the back of the room or getting into character; I have no idea. Suddenly my red knitted sweater is a bit too warm despite not being in front of any bright lights. Just when I think it can't get any worse, the photographer announces that it's time to begin.

If I had known what I agreed to the other day, I would have been more prepared—or so I'd like to think. I mean, how does one prepare their feelings for watching their unfairly attractive, multi-millionaire boyfriend pose for the camera as if moments away from sweeping them off of their feet!? And not in a sweet way either. Nah, ain't nothing innocent about the lethal expression swirling within his dark brown orbs. Especially while they are pointed right at me.

The hairstyle they gave him just makes my situation worse. How am I supposed to sit still with this man gazing so intensely into the "camera"? Is this really the same drowsy Baekhyun who I have to wake up every Sunday morning? Where did his tiredness go? There ain't nothing exhausted about the way he is staring at me! And when they bring out a chair for him to sit on… No. Hell no. That's it.

Draping my sweater over the back of my chair has his covered lips curling up at the corners, I just fucking know it.

After a few more camera flashes, the stylists are back with a new outfit in tow, gesturing for Baekhyun to change. However, right as he is turning down the short hallway leading to the dressing room, someone comes rushing into the building.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" A petite woman with a French accent flies into the hall. "Traffic was-" She skids to a halt, staring at Baekhyun as if she's seen a ghost, her brown wavy hair mid-loop of making a bun. For a long moment, nobody says a word, and then she's on the move, crossing the short distance within two furious strides.

Her slap echoes across the tall walls.

"To think I waited for you." She grits out between heated spews of French. Her gray eyes brimmed with tears shoot daggers into Baekhyun's wide-eyed ones. "To think I held onto the fact that maybe you actually cared." Her whole body shakes as staff members rush over to restrain her, calling her name over her loud obscenities in an attempt to calm her down, trying to pull her away from him before she can jump him. It takes three men to drag her back out of the building. A woman from the small crowd quickly follows, dropping a blue clipboard in her haste. We hear her panicked voice a split second before the door slams shut behind them.

I don't know when or how it happens, but I'm already on the other side of the room, reaching out for a stunned Baekhyun being fussed over by stylists. "Baekhyun?" My eyes flicker all over his shock-stricken face once they move out of the way for me. A lump forms in my throat at the look in his eyes. "B," I tentatively place my hand over his frozen one on his cheek, the red handprint visible between his fingers. "Baekhyun!"

He flinches, shaky pupils focusing on me. "Y-Yes?"

"Are you okay?" Emotions grip at my throat, making it hard to speak while my eyes keep shifting between his alarmed ones and his steadily bruising cheek. I take the ice pack a staff member hands over without a word, gently brushing his hand away to hold it to his face. "Come here."

Baekhyun silently follows me to the dressing room, seemingly in a daze as stylists vacate the room, closing the door on their way out. I lead him over to a swivel chair in front of a white vanity table, letting him settle before speaking. "What was that?"

"What was what?" He mumbles, breaking my heart at the sight of him pressing ice to his swelling cheek.

"You know what I'm talking about." Crossing my arms, I continue staring him down. "Who was that woman, Baekhyun? Why did she hit you?"

"I'll tell you later, baby." He avoids my eye and his reflection in the mirror, getting up from the chair. "Let's wrap this photoshoot up, hmm? Then we'll go home-"

Stumbling to reach the door before he does, I block his escape, looking into his conflicted eyes. "I'm not letting you leave this room until you answer me."

His lips twitch, "Baby-"

I cross my arms despite my racing heart, my stomach twisting in an ignored warning. "I need answers-"

"For fuck's sake, Riley!" He thunders, startling me so much I slam the back of my head on the doorframe. "Out of my fucking way."

I step aside without another word, turning my head away as he storms out of the room. The slamming door left in his wake has my heart jumping into my throat. Anxiety grips at my chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe. I latch onto a Privé clothing rack, holding onto it for stability.

Baekhyun's tone on the other side of the door is much calmer while talking to one of the staff. I wait for a few minutes, resting against the clothing rack until his voice drifts away; the loud taps of his shoes fading into the distance. No matter how far away he is—most likely continuing on with the photoshoot by the faint clicks of a camera echoing around the quiet building—I don't… I can't; I won't go back out there to watch him. No, not after that. I'm sure everyone in the vicinity heard what just happened.

Slipping out of the room, I gasp when I bump into someone else, my heart beating so hard it hurts to breathe. Could this day get any worse? Seriously? "I'm so sorry."

"You're fine," The same staff member I heard minutes ago with Baekhyun shakes her head, smiling in sympathy. "Tough morning, huh?"

I can only manage a deep exhale, nodding, "I guess you could say that, u-um—" I'm losing the battle against the sting steadily building behind my eyes. "Do you know where the bathroom is by any chance?"

"Just around the corner," She nods, pointing farther down the hallway. "First door on your left."

"Thank you," I breathe, hurrying down the hall. Before I can pass by her, however, I notice her angrily marking out a name with a black sharpie from the same blue clipboard that clattered to the floor earlier.

Nicole. The woman they dragged out earlier…

With tears finally breaking free from my sore eyes, I couldn't have reached the bathroom fast enough.

To my relief, the room is empty. Nothing but painfully bright lights and the porcelain floors to witness my current state. I walk up to the sinks with a shaky sigh, splattering cold water on my face. My reflection isn't a pretty sight to behold when I look into the mirror, bracing my hands on the countertop as I take in the streaks of mascara running down my face. The one day I decide to wear a non-fool-proof kind and this is what I get?

Sighing, I turn to lean my back against the counter, crossing my arms. The photoshoot is back in full swing with all the compliments the photographer is showering Baekhyun in. It's pretty pathetic of me to hide out in this ice-cold bathroom, but I rather shiver for a few minutes than face him right now. Something about the way he reacted earlier... To that woman, to me—doesn't feel right. Maybe I pushed him too far? I just… Do I not have the right to know who just slapped the hell out of my boyfriend? Hell yeah, I'll admit I want to know who she is because he's mine and she was acting as if she was waiting forever for him to recuperate her feelings, but it's not just about that. No—Nah. The deer in headlights expression on his face as her hand collided with his cheek will not leave my mind.

Whatever it is, whatever just transpired in front of me; something is off and I rather be out the line of fire while trying to figure it out.

"To think I waited for you" For what? For when? With the way things are going, I might never know the answer.

The lack of chatter filtering through the echoing walls of the room catches my attention. I tentatively peek out of the bathroom, stepping back into the hallway at the uncharacteristically quiet state of the building. Is the shoot over already? Pushing past my dimly lit surroundings, I head back to the dressing room, hesitantly standing in the open doorway. I'm confused to not find Baekhyun there, or in the main area when I poke my head over the edge of the short hallway.

"Excuse me?" I approach the nearest stylist, moving out the way of another one clumsily carrying out articles of clothing. "Have you seen Baekhyun?"

She shakes her head with a pop of her minty gum, giving me a solemn look. "Last I saw of him, he was on his way to the men's room on the other side of the building."

"Ah..." Dread fills my stomach, and something tells me that I rather not find out why. "Thank you," I murmur in passing, quickly making my way back out of the room, speeding down to the opposite hallway. The possibility that I got left behind in an unfamiliar part of the city twists my stomach into knots until I round the corner. I stumble to a halt, sucking in a breath. My heart breaks at the sight—and then the rage kicks in.

Baekhyun's broad form in his partially unbuttoned black shirt braces himself against the wall, looming over a model. Her hand is in his hair and their lips interlocked in an intimate kiss. The sight has my blood boiling—nah, it's turning into fucking lava.

"Wow." I bark out a laugh, loud and hollow, positively seething as he jumps back from her as if burned. "If you were going to cheat, you could have at least had the decency to do it behind my back." The smirk that forms on my lips is the worst kind, the ugliest kind, the kind that has fear flickering in Baekhyun's wide brown eyes. "Or was this your intention all along?"

"R-Riley-" He stares like a deer in headlights, hurrying over to me, smearing her red lipstick over his lips in his haste to rub it off with the back of his hand. "Baby, please keep it down. I can explain-"

"Nah," I shake my head, looking at him in disdain. Just the sight of him right now has me heating up with anger. I'm seeing red as the model smirks at me from over his shoulder. That bitch. "This is explanation enough." I spin on my heel before I do something I won't regret in the slightest, just for his sake.

Baekhyun's dress shoes tapping frantically behind me as I storm back into the main hall.

"Riley, baby." His grip on my wrist throws me over the edge. "Please-"

"What were you doing, huh?" A snarl forms on my face as I whirl back around, meeting his pleading eyes. "Gonna show her your failed attempts at lasting for longer than a minute?"

Everyone in the room pauses. The photographer almost drops his prized camera.

Baekhyun's face grows progressively red, and if it wasn't for the rage burning in my own veins, I'd be concerned about the vibrant hue going up to his ears right now. Just like his mishap a few days ago that would normally be insignificant, it was his grave mistake. The key that I used to fuel the fire to the flame in the most torturous of ways... Have I hit a nerve, Hyunnie?

His grip tightens on my wrist. "We," He barely gets out in an angered growl of his own, "Are leav-"

"Get your filthy-" I hiss, snatching my wrist out of his grasp, "Paws off of me." I grab my sweater on my way out, exiting the building without looking back. The bite of the cold wintry air is a relief for my heated skin. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I drove." He says through clenched teeth, hot on my heels.

"And I'm walking." I bite back, walking past the car as he climbs into the driver's seat.

"Riley!" Baekhyun bellows, putting the Audi in gear and slowly following me out of the parking lot. "Get in the fucking car!"

I cross my arms, scoffing out a laugh. It doesn't matter where the hell I am, I'm not getting back in that car with him. Bringing me all the way out here just to pull that shit. He can kiss my ass. I knew I shouldn't have gotten in that car with him. If I had taken my own four-seat beauty that I left back at home, I'd be halfway on the way to Jenny's by now.

Baekhyun continues to follow behind me, honking obnoxiously, attracting unwanted attention from bystanders that whisper amongst themselves. Some of them pull out their phones. What a spectacle we would make for the front cover of magazines, endlessly entertainment for all their peering eyes. Pausing for a moment to weigh my options, I step towards the Audi with a sigh, climbing in without a word to the fuming man next to me.

Baekhyun drives on, clutching onto the steering wheel with both hands. His grip is so tight his knuckles turn white. I direct my gaze out of the passenger window, avoiding him at all costs within the confines of the car. The long ride home and walk up to our apartment does nothing to ease my rage. Anger continues to thump angrily in my veins as the past two hours replay in my mind.

Baekhyun unlocks the door and holds it open for me. I walk into the apartment with a scoff, moving to tug off my boots only for my back to meet the wall, the front door closing with a startling slam.

"What was that?" Baekhyun glares at me, fire burning bright in his brown orbs. He can't exactly tower over me, but by his mannerism, he doesn't need any extra height to get his point across.

"What was that?" I mumble, peeling off my shoes, ducking under his arm to cross the other side of the room. The longer I stay in these warm clothes, the more I die from the uncomfortable heat.

"No, what the actual fuck, Riley?" He shakes his head, long strands of silver hair dangling in his fury-filled eyes. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Fine." I retort, rolling my eyes and looking at him, "Who was that woman then?"

His nostrils flare. "Really?" He bites out, laughing in disbelief. "Is that really important right now?"

I cross the room in three strides, tilting my chin up to stand nose to nose with him. "It is to me if you haven't fucking noticed."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He scoffs, stepping back. A cruel smile curls on his lips. "What should I do? I haven't paid Riley enough attention." All traces of humor leave his features, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. Baekhyun leans in again, his voice lowering into an angered growl. "Maybe if you weren't wetting yourself over me all morning, you'd figure it out."

I grind my teeth. "Who. Was. She?"

"For fuck-" Baekhyun reels back, his brown eyes rolling so hard into the back of his head a flicker of worry sparks in my chest before those dark orbs land on me again. "An ex-fling," he grits out. "Why does it matter?"

My hands fall limply to my sides. "Why didn't you tell me she would be there?" I ask. My voice is much quieter while I search his eyes for answers.

"What?" He scoffs, raising a brow. "How was I supposed to know she would be there?"

"Her name was on the roster-"

"I-" He shakes his head, pulling harshly on his hair. "What? Do you expect me to know the names of the women I've slept with?" A smirk quirks at his pink lips, his brown eyes so dark that his pupils have vanished in their mahogany depths. "Do you think I've kept some journal? " He purrs, grinning in delight when I shuffle uncomfortably on my feet. "Are you really that insecure?"

I stiffen. A bolt of something sinister shoots down my spine. Did this fucker just—

"Me?" I point to myself with wide eyes, laughing incredulously. "Me?.... You know, that's real fucking rich coming from you." I sneer, roughly tugging off my annoying turtleneck. What was once a reliable piece of clothing ends up torn in my fit of rage. I fling it out of my sight. Baekhyun's words loop over and over in my head. Even though I don't show it—they cut me. Deep. On a touchy subject. In a part of me I thought had died 2 years ago. He damn well knows it hurts when it's mentioned in such a menacing manner, and he still did it. For what? His weak stamina in wake of his long hours at work is suddenly the equivalent to the root of my trust issues?

My fingers curl so tightly into a fist, I can feel my nails pierce the skin. "You're one to talk." It's easier this way; keeping my back turned to him so I can mask the tears brimming my eyes. Who does he think he is? Who is he, period? How is this the same adoring man that was pursuing me the summer we met?.... It takes all my effort not to bolt for the front door—not to let my nose run or tears to stream down my face. No. I won't cry over him again. I won't let him win. Not like this.

Firm in my resolve, I take a deep breath before turning to him again. "You're not so confident, Mr. Big Shot..." My words falter at the sight of him ripping his shirt open, black buttons clattering all over the floor. "What-"

Baekhyun has me backed against the wall before I can utter another word. "Did you enjoy yourself?" He demands, holding my chin between his thumb and index finger. He peers down into my eyes; the familiar look held in his dark orbs has me quivering on the inside—and it isn't from fear. "Hmm? Did you enjoy embarrassing me earlier? Did you have your fun?"

I quickly recover. "Not my fault you don't know how to keep it in your pants."

"You wish you were in my pants." He grits out, lips curling mockingly.

There are so many things I want to throw up in his handsome face right now. So many little secrets and observations I've made over the past year that would make him falter—make him kneel. But today...

Today.

I choose violence.

Tangling my fingers in his hair, I yank on his delicate locks without remorse, pulling him into a brutal kiss of tongue and teeth. Baekhyun grunts in surprise, pressing me harder against the wall. The harsh clash of our mouths only seems to egg him on. The stinging bite he leaves on my bottom lip is nearly enough to break the skin. I don't know how long we stand there; my hands in his hair and his palms sliding down my back. There's no telling where he ends or I begin until the lack of air sinks in. His breathless puffs for air erupt goosebumps on my skin.

"Are we really doing this?" He pants, pulling away to brush his hair back. His eyes are more familiar to me now, softened by his calmer state, intense from the lust felt in his every touch.

I pause my exploration of his firm chest, arching a brow at him with a mocking grin. "Think you can last longer than a minute this time?"

Baekhyun clenches his jaw and steps away. For a moment, I worry if I pushed him too far until his lips crash back to mine. "Jump," He mutters gruffly, his grip near bruising on my ass.

"And if I don't..." The look in his eyes as he drags his dark brown eyes up to mine shuts me up entirely.

Baekhyun slowly leans closer, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. "I'll fuck you against the goddamn window." The serious expression on his face combined with the threat is damn near intimidating—and I hate how aroused it leaves me.

Baekhyun hoists me up and walks to our room with quick strides, relentlessly keeping his lips glued to mine. He pushes open the door before dropping me unceremoniously onto the mattress. His lips are back on mine before I can chastise him for the mini heart attack, his impatient hands tug at the rest of my clothes. I let him pull off my pants and hurriedly move to unclip my bra in the meantime before his rough actions can rip the expensive fabric.

Baekhyun freezes above me, brown eyes transfixed on my matching red lacy set. It may be winter, but that doesn't mean I can't dress up nicely underneath endless layers of flannel and wool. Although, when I think about what happened not too long ago... Warmth fills my cheeks and I know I'm blushing way too hard to have done this countless times with him.

"Ah." Baekhyun tsks, stopping me from covering my chest. "Take it off." He breathes, soft lips brushing over my neck. "Let me see these tits bounce for me."

My eyes widen at his crude words, a gasp escapes my parted lips when he sucks harshly on a sensitive spot on my neck, pulling down the straps of my bra at a snail's pace. The poor clothing is tossed over his shoulder without a care in the world.

I'm no stranger to Baekhyun's habit of leaving pink and red hues on my skin, but today is different—today it feels like he has something to prove by trapping my skin between his teeth, marking me as his. He doesn't stop at my neck; his restless mouth ventures lower, painting my collarbones and chest with the shape of his lips.

I grit my teeth as he reaches my breasts, determined not to let him win me over so easily. It doesn't matter how much I want to melt under his warm hands mapping out the contours of my waist or tremble in anticipation at his breath fanning over my sensitive nipples. No matter what, I will not crumble... until he does first, at least.

Yeah—easier said than done with the way he's tugging my nipple with his teeth, roughly rolling the other between his fingers. It's all fun and games until his grip tightens on my hip, his pelvis grinding mercilessly against me. A move that has my back arching clear off of the mattress. He just presses me back down to the bed, continuing to alternate between each breast, pulling away minutes later with a wet pop of his lips. He's relentless in using every weak spot of mine. As if he knows what I'm trying to do.

"Not today, baby," He murmurs to my squirming form, chuckling in my ear. I can't help but bite my lip, breath caught in my throat when his hand slides down my body. His large palm covers my clothed core entirely. If it were any other day, I'd be flustered over how true his words from earlier were; the evidence of my previous admiring and current state of euphoria clear as day to his greedy hand, tugging at my last piece of clothing.

My heart races in the realization that I'm lying under him, almost completely bare, as he remains fully clothed besides the ripped shirt clinging to his broad shoulders.

"Ah," Baekhyun smacks my hands away, flashing a grin full of devious intentions. "Don't worry your pretty little head."

He's yanking my underwear down before I can get a word in, tossing them carelessly off the bed and spreading my thighs as far as they'll go.

"Always so ready for me," He muses, spreading my folds apart with his thumbs. I stop breathing entirely when he leans down, spitting onto my pussy. "Your hungry cunt has been waiting all morning for me, hmm?"

My lack of response doesn't bother him in the slightest as he meets my eye, sliding two of his long fingers into my core so suddenly I shout, grabbing his wrist. Baekhyun just pries my fingers off of him before interlocking them with his freehand, bracing our joined hands above my head. My eyes roll back at the burn of the unexpected intrusion. It's a dull, persistent ache while he shoves his fingers deeper into my cunt. He curls them up in a way that has me shaking at the seams, tugging at his silver locks as he brings me dangerously close to the edge. Right when I'm nearing my high, he pulls his fingers out, nonchalantly sucking on them while fiddling with his belt.

I gulp, relaxing back against the sheets. I can't even be mad at this point. Our argument ended the moment I started that fiery-filled kiss, but—

Baekhyun's belt clatters to the floor and his brown eyes have never looked so fierce—so carnal, I wonder if he plans to eat me alive. What I don't expect is for him to crawl further up the bed like an actual predator hunting his prey to hover over me again; his gaze not straying from mine for a second. The warmth of his body encloses me; it's second nature to relax under him when we're like this—when we're touching the tip of the iceberg before diving headfirst into the chilly depths of our lust. Sex with Baekhyun isn't like playing with fire; it's handling dry ice with bare hands.

And being in love with him is one of the most intense and excruciating experiences of my life.

We spend so much time eye-fucking each other that I'm not prepared for the bruising kiss he pulls me into, sliding his cock into my core without a warning.

"Ah—B-Baek!"

"Hmm?" He humors, his low voice filled with lust. "Now she speaks."

"Baekhyun." I gasp when he spreads my thighs wider; the pull from the unfamiliar stretch adds to his incessant pounding—his hips seeming to snap a mile a minute. Oh, please—please don't let both of us have muscle strain tomorrow morning. I swear I've never seen him move this fast for anything. Ever. Baekhyun, what the fuck? Have you started back up on your late-night visits to the gym or something? He's reaching depths he hasn't quite reached before, hitting a spot inside my core that makes me want to cringe away and slam myself onto his cock at the same time.

I yelp out when he tilts my hips at a different angle, not meaning to scratch his back so hard in my hurry to cling onto him. Baekhyun just groans, slamming rougher into me in retaliation, his teeth firmly bite down onto my shoulder.

"Baekhyun! what the—ah—fuck!?" I nearly shriek, appalled and aroused.

Baekhyun smirks, sliding a hand down to press his thumb on my clit. "What's the matter, baby?"

"B-" I can't even say his name without stammering, shaking under him when he slows down to roll his entire body against mine. The only thing I'm capable of at this point is gripping his shoulders, throwing my head back with a loud moan. I always thought of myself as not being a fan of sweat or having any strange, warm liquids touching me, but Baekhyun... Fucking Baekhyun. His sweaty chest brushing over my nipples is making me lose my damn mind—if I was feeling any more horny and adventurous, I'd lick the salty sweat off of his neck.

"Come on." Baekhyun pants with a satisfied grin. Sweat continues to drip from his honey-toned skin, sticking silver locks to his forehead. "Tell me."

The fucker, he knows exactly what's up. It's written all over his face. A part of me doesn't want to beg—my rational side. The one chastising me for falling into bed with him again in the first place. But I don't know how much longer I can take his teasing antics, so despite my stubbornness—despite the heart aching memories creeping up on me in such an intimate moment; I press my body to his.

"Fuck me like you mean it." I pant, yanking harshly on his hair, smirking at his pained hiss until his hips undulate in a new direction. The constant stimulation on my most sensitive spots has my high sneaking up on me so quickly, I don't have time to warn him.

"Bae—!"

Baekhyun's lips crash to mine, swallowing my cry of his name as I fall over that blissful edge. His cock is the only thing on my mind amongst the ringing in my ears—in the minute-long paradise where nothing else matters but our frantic hearts racing as one.

Baekhyun lets out a telling grunt before a burst of warmth fills me up. The remains of his release drip down my thighs with his erratic, shaky thrusts. He doesn't even pull out when he's done. He just leans tiredly over me, coaxing my lips into a lazy kiss. "You're the only one for me." He whispers as if sharing the biggest secret, all rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed.

Beautiful; there's no other way to describe him—in general, in this moment. Nothing compares to his mocha brown eyes that shine brighter than a million stars when his steady gaze sets on me. Nothing compares to the safety of his warm embrace that surrounds me. Nothing could come close to the way he drives me crazy in every single way. Love. Lust. Doesn't matter. If it's with him—for him, it's...

...

Is it worth it?

The emptiness I feel when he gently pulls himself from me triggers every painful memory imaginable: my birthday, the party, our summer fight, his ex, that phone call, his photoshoot...

Baekhyun collapses beside me on the bed, completely oblivious to the war going on in my head. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close to his beating heart.

I wait for him to fall asleep, brushing damp silver locks of hair out of his eyes as his breathing slows. He looks so peaceful like that, so innocent while his face relaxes with sleep. So... So welcoming, like home.

Tears stream down my cheeks, blurring my vision of his twitching brows and pouted lips. I hope he's happy; I hope he got what he wanted.

Carefully sliding out from under his loving hold, I quietly get dressed, collect my duffle bag, and slip out of the room, holding onto the doorknob for dear life. His quiet mumbles drift through the crack of the door, tossing and turning as if already aware of my absence. I have to cover my mouth to contain my sobs.

I love him—I really do, but I...

I can't do this.

I can't take this anymore. If he won't open up to me; if he thinks I'm... I'm unworthy of knowing his past—hell, fuck that. Apparently caring too much leads to being left behind, if that encounter this morning is anything to go by.

My laughter just ends in more sobs, the salty taste of tears on my tongue more bitter with the realization that once again, I've lost.

But at what cost?

The ache in my chest and between my legs is an answer within itself—the last push I need to retrieve my car keys from the counter.

If he wants to be that way, Baekhyun... Baekhyun can do whatever the fuck he wants. What's the difference between me and all the others? What use am I? Is it because I learned how to cook? Clean? I wonder how many of those late nights at work are actually spent bent over his sketchpad. Am I his personal little stay-at-home trophy? Does it feel good to show me around important events? After today, I might as well hang up the thought of ever stepping into his world again. No one wants a possessive girlfriend in their corner of the wrestler ring. No one needs a jealous, nosy, demanding burden weighing them down. And I have my high standards as well.

I can—and will not—be one of those girls.

Not even for him.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

A/N: I can feel the pitchforks on the rise, l-listen (<.<) just trust me on this, not all is lost.... Or is it? 😇 I’ll try to finish the next part as soon as I can. *cracks fingers* let’s see what this troubled couple gets up to next.

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun romance #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fluff #Six Phases

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bebepac · 4 years

Text

The Dishwasher

I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt # 58 “Where are you going? It’s not safe out there!” which will appear in bold.

I also used a prompt from @wonder7pickle 45 OTP prompts, # 45, “If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop” which will also appear in bold

This is also chapter 12 of Pop’s Place. To catch up on what you’ve been missing so far please check out Pop's Place Masterlist .

Summary: Mia and Jaiden start to get closer. Liam and Mia hire a dishwasher. A bad storm hits the area.

Warnings: I’m gonna say profanity, because I love a good curse word. But that’s all, and these these two are too stinking cute. You know what I say right. When I have a fluffy fic, that means another story gets hit with the drama rain.

Word Count: 1994

Song inspiration for this episode. Another Jaiden Brooks pick. I really kinda love his eclectic music selections, and this week he’s really feeling this one.

“To Be With You” by Mr. Big

https://youtu.be/L6-uJLteKek

I don’t own rights to the music. This is a great song by the way, forgot how much I used to love it!!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍😍

Tagging: @queenjilian @dcbbw @bbrandy2002 @indiacater @janezillow @islandcrow @mom2000aggie @gkittylove99 @gabesmommie1130 @sophie-and-shizuku @kingliam2019 @queenwalton @cordonia-gothqueen @texaskitten30 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @lodberg @hopefulmoonobject @kimmiedoo5 @sanchita012 @mrsdrakewalkerblog @cordonianroyalty @batgirlassociationofgothamcity @hopelessromanticmonie @marietrinmimi @blueaster-blog1 @lovablegranny @ac27dj @classylady1234 @loudbluebirdlover @atha68 @nikkis1983 @furiousherringoperatortoad @sevenfuckslefttogive @ladyangel70 @annekebbphotography @iaminlovewithtrr @jared2612 @cordoniaqueensworld @choicesficwriterscreations @burnsoslow @axwalker

Mrs. Jones was kind enough to make him a plate for breakfast before he started cutting their grass for them.

Jaiden sat at the table eating turkey sausage, eggs, grits, toast and juice, when he saw Mia walk into the kitchen.

Jaiden raised an eyebrow. Even though Mia looked like she had just woken up, she looked really cute to him. Her hair was up in a wild ponytail on the top of her head. She was wearing a white tank top and some blue pj shorts.

She looked at the stove seeing the cast iron pan her mom cooked eggs in empty. She opened the fridge bending over. Jaiden leaned in his chair to get a better look at Mia. Jaiden bit his lip as he watched her.

Gloria rounded the corner with another carton of eggs. She followed Jaiden's line of sight, catching Jaiden blatantly watching Mia.

When she called Jaiden's name he jumped, losing his balance, causing the chair to topple over, with him in it.

The sound caused Mia to jump. Standing up as she saw Jaiden jump up, his face bright red.

Gloria gave him a look; he knew he had been caught.

"You alright there Jaiden?" Gloria said with a smirk.

"Yeah that chair was a little wobbly or something. Weird."

"Mom why didn't you tell me he was here?" Mia mumbled.

"I did, you apparently didn't check your phone." Mia touched her hair.

"Well he's seen you at your worst, and he's still staring at you, like you are the most beautiful girl in the world. I think you're okay. He fell out of his chair, staring at my beautiful girl."

He was beet red now. Even his ears. His face was downcast eating.

She smiled at Jaiden.

"You can handle cooking more eggs, just don't let Pops see them! Check if Jaiden wants more eggs."

Gloria left the kitchen.

"Jaiden, do you want some more breakfast? I'm about to make some more eggs."

"Sure."

"I put cheese in my eggs is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's great."

He watched her cook the cheesy eggs.

He brought his plate over to her. She fixed him more breakfast.

"Thank you Mia."

"You're welcome."

Even though he was full, he ate another plate of food, just so he could sit there and have breakfast with Mia and talk to her.

"So why are you here this morning?"

"Our moms are apparently best friends now. Your mom was talking about hiring someone to cut the grass for you guys, and my mom volunteered me. Since it came with a free breakfast, and I get to spend time with you, I don't mind at all."

Mia smiled looking at him. They continued talking and laughing for a bit.

"Well I better get started." Jaiden took both their plates and rinsed them putting them in the dishwasher. Mia bottles of water in the freezer.

She showered and got dressed for the day. She checked on Jaiden a few times out the window. It was now the heat of the day and he was sweating, and now shirtless. Mia’s heart skipped a beat.

She decided it was the perfect time to take out one of the bottled waters, she was freezing for him. When she came out of the house, she saw Jaiden drinking from the water hose.

Mia got a mischievous idea.

She carefully picked up the hose, and bent it with her hands slowly stopping the stream of water. Jaiden fell right for it. Holding the hose end closer to his face.

Mia unbent the hose, the water hitting Jaiden in the face full blast. He yelped in surprise.

Mia was doubled over in laughter.

Jaiden’s eyes shot to her. “YOU!!!!” he screamed, quickly putting his thumb into the hose causing the stream of cold water to hit Mia. Mia screamed.

Gloria glanced out the window when she heard Mia screech. She watched the pair running across the yard, screaming and laughing. Mia kicked off her sandals, so she could run faster. Jaiden still caught up to her, spraying her with water. He had a tight grip on Mia. He dropped the water hose.

He pulled Mia closer to him and kissed her.

“ She was right. That boy ain’t shy… when he knows what he wants. Go ‘head on Jaiden Brooks.”

They finally came up for air. Mia slowly opened her eyes, seeing Jaiden staring down at her.

“Wow.” she softly whispered. “I feel like I wasted almost my whole summer on the wrong guy.”

“It’s okay Mia. You have me now. And I’ve been waiting patiently for you all summer.”

“When did you know?”

He smiled. “When I was driving home from the party that night we first met. I was thinking about you. It really annoyed me that you were with Drake. My family isn’t crazy religious. But, I asked for a sign to know you were the one for me. Not even a minute later I saw you pulled over with the flat tire. I was your Superman."

"You also nearly scared me to death."

"Definitely not the type of scream I want to hear from you Mia."

Jaiden winked at her.

Mia laughed.

"Is that for me?"

He pointed to the slightly frozen bottle of water in her hand.

"Yeah, it is."

"Thanks. I better get back to it."

"Come see me before you leave okay?"

"I will."

He watched Mia walk away. Her clothes were sopping wet. He had gotten her good with the water hose.

He smiled at her. "That's my girl."

Pop's Place had been so busy Mia was on her roller skates almost every day.

The public outcry to help Pop's small business stay open even with shorter hours and closed for the weekends had humbled Pops. They were actually making more than with them being open every day. Pops was loved by the community.

"Hey Mr. Brooks!"

He gave Mia a hug. "How are you sweetie?"

"It's been busy. We've been running like crazy, and now our dishwasher is our cook! So it's been a mad house but we're making it work."

"Jaiden said he's worried about you. Is there anything you need? Your family needs Mia?"

"Me and Liam are basically running this on our own. Liam is placing the food orders doing all the cooking, and I'm running the floor. Mom handles the books. She can't help much, she has a full time job. If you know a dishwasher, that would save my life right now."

"You know what? I just might be able to help you out with that. Can I get this coffee to go sweetheart?"

"Sure Mr. Brooks."

"And Mia…. "

"Yes Mr. Brooks?"

"Jaiden is very tenderhearted. You bring out something in him that I've never seen before. I'm really happy you two found each other. Tell your father he owes me $20. I called this, when I saw you two at the hospital. You two have a connection."

"Glad everyone knew before I did."

Jason smiled. "The same thing happened with me and Ren. I was in love with her, long before I was a blip on her radar."

"Jaiden isn't in love."

Mr. Brooks smiled. "I'll see you soon Mia."

The next morning Jaiden came in with Mia’s favorite coffee and what looked like two folders.

Hey Mia, can I talk to you and Liam for a few minutes?"

"I'd like to apply for the dishwasher position. Here's my resume."

"This looks like a term paper." Liam looked at the folder.

"No, this is going to be an audio and visual experience! Audio On!!!!!”

Jaiden’s phone comes to life.

Jaiden’s voice blares over his phone sounding like a crazy extreme announcer.

“JAIDEN BROOKS DISHWASHER!”

Mia opened the folder. The first page was a full size photo of Jaiden giving a thumbs up, with a clean plate in his hand.

(Author note: Crazy announcer Jaiden’s voice from his phone will be in all caps)

“Reason number one why I would be a great dishwasher. I wash myself every day, sometimes more than once a day depending on what I get into.”

“GO AHEAD TAKE A WHIFF…. I’ll WAIT. DO IT!!!!”

Mia leans forward sniffing Jaiden. She nods in approval.

“SMELLS GOOD RIGHT?!? SEE?!?!? TOLD YOU SO!!!!!”

Mia laughed.

Liam looked at Mia. She was eating this stupid shit up that Jaiden was doing. Liam didn’t think he was funny at all.

Jaiden saw Liam wasn’t amused. Mia was almost crying from laughter. He had to win over Liam.

Jaiden went on to talk about a picture empty sink in his house that had no dishes in it. A video of his mom saying “Jaiden washes dishes without being told.”

Lastly, Jaiden talked about his Jeep. He had it parked so it was sitting almost glistening in the spot. “Would you check out the shine on that Jeep?”

“LOOOK ATTTTTTT ITTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!”

Finally Liam burst out laughing.

“Jaiden, I did not know, you were this crazy and this funny as hell.”

“Because I’m the underdog. People always underestimate me. So did I get it?”

Mia looks at Liam.

“Want to start like right now?”

“I need to go home and change, but I can come right back. Walk me out Mia?”

Liam watched Mia walk out to the car with Jaiden. He slipped his hand into hers.

He leaned into her.

“If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he whispered, kissing her.

Jaiden felt Mia’s body melt into his arms.

When Jaiden finally pulled away. He softly whispered. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” Mia whispered. She stared deeply into Jaiden’s eyes. How had she not seen him before?

"Hurry back it looks like it might storm."

“You worried about me?” Jaiden smiled.

Mia nodded.

“I like that. I’ll hurry.”

Mia watched Jaiden drive off.

Liam watched her when she came back in. Mia had a dopey smile on her face.

He knew neither him nor Drake had made Mia ever look like that before. Mia really liked Jaiden. They had something special.

The restaurant was dead, and the storm coming looked bad. Jaiden made it back just before the rain.

They had been laughing and fooling around in the kitchen.

They hadn't even noticed how bad it looked outside as they were all in the kitchen until their phones started going off. TORNADO WARNING!!!!!

Mia's phone started ringing.

She put the phone on speaker as Pop's asked.

"Are there any customers?"

"No."

"Close and lock up and go small interior office, there are no windows in there. Come home after the storm. Supposed to be bad on and off all day.

"Okay Pops."

When she got off the phone Liam headed towards the door.

"Where are you going? It's not safe out there!"

"To check the generator. We might need it."

"Not worth it, look at that wind and rain." Jaiden said.

They waited out the storm talking in the office.

When that storm cell had finally passed they walked out to their cars. Liam hopped in his R8 and was gone in a second. Jaiden was waiting for Mia to pull off, when she didn't he pulled over to her.

Jaiden jumped out to check on her.

"My car won't start."

"I'll take you home."

He opened the passenger door.

“See, I’m your Superman.”

Mia smiled.

"You worried about me?"

"I worried about you Mia, even when you weren't my girlfriend."

Mia smiled. She took Jaiden's free hand and held it in hers.

"So you’re my boyfriend now?"

"Only if you want me to be."

In that moment Mia felt incredibly bold. “Yes, I do.”

Mia's hand gripped his tighter. "I want you Jaiden Brooks."

At the stop sign, Jaiden turned to Mia. His voice was soft. He licked his lips before he continued speaking. "And I want all of you, Mia Jones.”

#bebepac writes #usually drama #not today #fluff piece #trr fanfic #trr fandom #trr mc x oc #ttr mc #trr jaiden #trr liam #pops place #no royals #summer vacation #wacky drabbles

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nachtgraves · 4 years

Text

Fic: Lotta’s Boys

Started this when episode 3 or 4 came out and got my shit together to finally finish it. It is... much longer than I thought it would be.... woops.

Read on AO3

Pairing: Jean Otus/Nino Word Count: 8.500 Warnings/Tags: G. Post-canon, sick fic, lotta’s pov, fluff, obvious and oblivious boys. Summary: Lotta loves her brother and his best friend, she just wishes they weren't so oblivious.

Lotta loves Jean, she really does. He’s a good brother, and a hard worker even if he complains about how his transfers never go through. He always brings back presents from the other districts, delicious treats to make up for the time he’s away.

She also loves Nino. He indulges her in exploring bakeries and restaurants and he gave her candy when they first met. He watches out for Jean when Lotta manages to ask him for a favor first.

She loves them both, dearly. If only they weren’t so stupidly oblivious.

Lotta’s making breakfast when Jean stumbles out of his room and into a chair at the kitchen table. Eggs and sausages sizzle in the pan and the toaster is set to go off in another minute.

“Morning,” she calls to him. “Did you sleep well?”

Jean nods but he looks exhausted. He’s been away again for work, ACCA in a bit of a mess after Furawau’s secession, and only returned late last night. At least he has the day off, and even if he didn’t, one call to Owl would make sure he did.

“What do you want to drink?” Lotta asks, moving easily between the stove, toaster, and fridge. She has a system and when the toaster goes off, she is ready with a knife slathered with butter, jam standing by on the side. “I can start a pot of coffee, or we still have some of the tea you got from your last trip.”

“Coffee,” Jean mumbles. He rubs his face and stands up, bracing himself on the kitchen table. “I’ll make it, you want some?”

“Sure, thank you!”

Before long, breakfast is ready and plated. Lotta sips at her coffee and watches Jean eat as he skims the paper. His posture is lax and his eyes are glossy and droopier than usual and she wasn’t blind to the way he stumbled around the kitchen nor deaf to his attempts at covert sniffling.

“Jean, how long have you been sick?” Lotta questions. She sees the moment Jean tries to deny the accusation, but he’s learned in the past few years and only sighs.

“Not long. I think it’s just exhaustion and I should be fine after some rest,” he concedes. “I’ll be good to go back to work tomorrow.”

Lotta isn’t having it. “Well that’s tomorrow. Today, and right after you finish eating, you’re going right back to bed.”

Jean smiles and shakes his head in amusement. “Yes, ma’am.”

He doesn’t manage to finish his plate, barely able to do more than nibble on the toast and sip at his coffee. The eggs and sausages are barely touched. Lotta ushers him back to bed when he can’t make himself eat much more.

“I’ll make some porridge and see if we have any cold meds.” She brushes his hair from his face and worries her bottom lip. “You’re a little warm.”

Taking her hand in his, Jean links their fingers. “I’ll be fine, Lotta. I just need rest. There’s no use in you worrying yourself sick.”

Lotta pouts but she sighs and agrees. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to find medicine and make that porridge.”

Or so was the plan, but Lotta discovers that they’re out of any sort of cold medication. Lotta could pop out to grab what she needs but she doesn’t want to leave Jean home alone. He doesn’t fall sick often, but when he does, he falls hard.

“Ah, what to do…”

Her thoughts and contemplation are interrupted, however, by the buzz of a phone, her phone, sitting on the kitchen counter. She picks it up and sees that Nino’s sent her a bunch of photos. They’re all of a cat with gold fur. It’s asleep in the first picture but Nino must have woken it up since he catches the moment it blinks open blue eyes and yawns. Then it looks bored and unimpressed, but in the next picture something out of frame catches its attention. Its head is tilted and its tail is up and looks loose, not tight and puffed out in fear. Its blue eyes are wide and it stands facing Nino head on. In the next photo it’s munching on a small piece of bread, eyes shut in pleasure and Nino’s fingers rubbing its tiny head.

If Jean were a cat is the only accompanying text. It makes Lotta laugh because it’s far too accurate, and then she realizes her current dilemma is easily solved, and she can move on the solution to another one as well.

She calls Nino and he picks up almost immediately.

“Nino! Are you free right now? I need a favor.”

The doorbell rings and Lotta makes sure the chicken and ginger porridge won’t burn while she gets the door. Nino has perfect timing.

“Nino, you’re a lifesaver!” Lotta grins up at the photographer.

“Hi, I got some other things as well,” he says, holding up bags from the pharmacy. “Some energy drinks, pudding, jello. And some fever patches, because you know he runs high whenever he’s sick. They’re also good for headaches. And…what? Why are you looking at me like that.”

Lotta shakes her head, “Nothing! Nothing. You’re a really good friend, Nino.”

“Ah, thank you?” he replies.

“Thank you,” Lotta says. “Oh! Almost forgot about the porridge. I’ll take these, could you go check on Jean for me?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, taking the bags out of Nino’s hand and hurrying back to the kitchen. She quickly checks the porridge before putting away Nino’s shopping, noting he got all of Jean’s favorites, smiling when she hears Nino knock gently on Jean’s door and low murmurs follow.

Lotta’s just finished putting everything away and stirring the porridge when Nino comes out of Jean’s room. “Smells good.”

“I made extra if you want to eat with Jean,” Lotta says. She dips a spoon into the porridge and tastes it before frowning and adding a bit more salt. “It’ll be done in another five minutes. How’s he doing?”

“He’s definitely got a fever and needs a box or two of tissues within reach. If he tries to get out of bed, I’d suggest tying him down, duct taping if you don’t have any rope. There’s not a chance he’s going to be well enough to work tomorrow.”

“I know. The only person Jean is fooling is himself. I was going to call Owl later.”

“Good thinking,” Nino laughs. “You and Owl are the only people he’ll listen to.”

“He listens to you,” Lotta says casually, keeping her smile down when Nino scratches his cheek and looks away.

Nino clears his throat. “That’s debatable. You’re his beloved sister, Owl is like his second father, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“And you are one of the closest people in his life,” Lotta says. “And if you say anything less, you don’t get any porridge. Speaking of, get me two bowls. Oh, and there should be a tray in that cupboard over there.”

Nino does as bid and Lotta ladles porridge into the bowls while Nino fills up a glass of water and grabs the medicine he bought. Lotta puts everything on the tray and hands it off to Nino. “I already ate and have a couple things to do. Take this in and keep Jean company? There’s nothing worse than being sick and having to eat alone.” For good measure, she looks up at Nino with with a slight pouty frown.

Nino takes the tray from her. “As you wish, your highness.”

Lotta lightly smacks Nino’s arm. “Hush. Go feed your prince.” When Nino’s cheeks pink, Lotta has to turn her back on him in a pretense of being busy cleaning up to not give anything away.

She hears him walk away and the low murmurs pick up as he elbows Jean’s door open to walk inside. Lotta can’t help herself, far too curious and very invested. She sneaks over to the door and peeks through the crack. Nino’s got his back to her, bent over Jean’s nightstand to set the tray down. Lotta catches him smack Jean’s hands away with a spoon.

“Food first. And then you get two pills.”

“I’m not hungry,” Jean sulks, and if he’s being so openly pouty he’s definitely running a fever. “I want drugs.”

Nino laughs and Lotta presses her hand to her mouth to keep herself from being noticed. Jean’s turned towards Nino, all of his attention on the blue haired man.

“Just have a few bites. For Lotta, at least.” Nino puts one of the bowls in Jean’s hands and settles on the edge of the bed with the other bowl. “You’re not getting any drugs until at least a quarter of that is in your stomach.”

Jean huffs but he spoons a bite. “Don’t you have work today?”

“Being my own boss means I can take the day off whenever I want,” Nino replies. “Lotta called me and I know how you always overdo it when you’re sick. Lotta will guilt you into resting, but I have no qualms about manhandling you into bed.”

Jean’s flush becomes more pronounced and Lotta sees the moment Nino’s words registered to his own ears. His ears go pink and he freezes, back ramrod straight and tense. Even Lotta feels her cheeks grow warm at the easily misunderstood declaration.

“To force you to rest,” Nino hurriedly tacks on, clearing his throat. “You’ve got at least another day or two of bed rest with the state you’re in.” He swallows down a few bites of porridge while Jean just stirs his. “Your confinement will only be longer if you don’t eat something, Jean. No food, no drugs.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “I forgot how mean you are when I’m sick. Aren’t you supposed to be nicer?”

Lotta wishes she could see Nino’s face when he says, “What? Want me to feed you or something?”

Jean’s however, she sees clearly. Even his fever can’t explain how red he gets in the face, up to his ears, and his jaw drops, eyes wide. But he picks up his jaw by shoving porridge into his mouth and chewing, choking out a, “No.”

Lotta has to back away from the door so her barely restrained laughter doesn’t out her eavesdropping.

Lotta’s trying to work on an assignment for one of her classes on the couch when Nino comes out of Jean’s room.

“Nino!” She hops up, maybe a bit too eagerly. She looks for any sign of, she doesn’t even know what. Just a sign of something. She almost wishes she had continued to eavesdrop at the door.

“Lotta,” Nino returns, brows furrowing in wary confusion.

It’s incredibly hard to control her expression. She nods towards Jean’s bedroom, trying to change the subject. “Did he eat all the porridge?”

Nino gives her a suspicious look but doesn’t press. “Yeah. Once he started, he managed to get it all down. I gave him the pills and he was asleep by the time I finished stacking the bowls. ”

At the mention of bowls, Lotta goes to reach for them. “I can take those.”

Nino lifts the tray out of her reach and walks on to the kitchen. “It’s fine, I got it. What were you working on?”

“Readings for one of my classes.” Though she had kept looking up at Jean’s door and didn’t get much done. She follows Nino to the sink and despite his insistence grabs a bowl he finishes washing and dries it before putting it away.

“You have class tomorrow?”

“Yeah. My first class is at 11 and I’m usually gone through lunch until just before Jean gets home from work. I’ll just make something easy for Jean to grab and eat while I’m gone.”

Nino lingers with the spoons under the faucet. “I can come over again, if you want,” he offers. “I can cook and keep an eye on him, make sure he eats and doesn’t try and go to work while you focus on school.”

“But you’ve got work, don’t you?”

“I have two memory cards of photos to go through and then editing,” Nino says, dryly. “And you guys have a better coffee machine than I do.”

Lotta laughs. “If you don’t mind, that’d be great, Nino.” She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest as she squeezes him tight. “Thank you. I don’t know what Jean I would do without you.”

Nino hugs her back and ruffles her hair. “Don’t know what I’d do without you two, either.”

The next morning, after showering and getting dressed, Lotta checks in on Jean. She finds him out of bed going through his closet. Over his arm is a familiar black and red jacket. He’s reaching for one of his ties when Lotta clears her throat. He freezes and turns to meet her frown.

“I was going to shower?” he says and sniffles.

Lotta stares him down with her hands fisted at her hips until he sheepishly moves away from the ties and puts his jacket back on its hanger.

“I’ll call in sick,” Jean concedes. “But I’m still taking a shower.”

“Nino said he’ll be by in an hour,” she says, satisfied. “Do you want to eat in bed or in the kitchen?”

“Kitchen,” Jean answers. “Am I allowed coffee?”

“If you’re good,” Lotta teases and leaves to start a pot.

When Jean comes out of the shower, he’s dressed in lounge pants and an old shirt that swallows his frame. Lotta rewards him with a steaming mug of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal with chopped strawberries and blueberries. His appetite’s improved and he even asks for some toast and jam as Lotta makes some for herself.

“You know, I don’t need a babysitter,” Jean says once Lotta’s settled at the table, spreading jam on her toast.

“Maybe,” Lotta replies. “But it’s nice to have someone take care of you when you’re not feeling well.”

Jean smiles into his coffee. “Yeah. Nino’s been taking care of us for a long time now.”

“Mhmm.” Lotta peeks up at her brother. “When I was a kid, I thought I wanted to marry him.”

Jean startles, so surprised he starts coughing, and Lotta’s glad she waited until he had swallowed his coffee before throwing that at him. Even though it might be a bit of a test, it was true. She’d thought herself in love with her brother’s best friend who charmed her with candy when they first met and helped them through the loss of their parents while dealing with the loss of his own father. And even knowing the truth of how Nino came into their lives, Lotta is grateful for Nino’s presence. He might have been assigned to watch over them, but it was easy to see that his feelings went far beyond an assignment.

Lotta hands Jean a glass of water and Jean takes a few steady swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He clears his throat. “And, uh, do you still?”

“Oh no.” Lotta is quick to shake her head, laughing. “Not at all. I quickly realized I don’t love him like that. I love him like I love you.” She pauses, looks down, and adds casually, “But I do wonder who Nino would ever get married to. I’ve never even seen him in a relationship before.”

With perfect timing, the doorbell rings. Lotta all but bounces to the door to let Nino in and Jean mull over her words.

Nino’s running a hand through his hair, almost as if he were fixing it, when Lotta swings the door open. In place of his usual camera bag is a laptop bag slung over his shoulder, and he’s got a plastic bag from a nearby convenience store in hand.

“Morning. Jean ate all the jello yesterday so I bought a few more,” he says. “They had a different flavor I thought he might like.”

Lotta just beams at him. “I’m sure he will. He’s in the kitchen finishing up breakfast. There’s extra oatmeal and fruit if you’re hungry.”

“I already ate, but thanks,” Nino says, toeing off his shoes before following Lotta to the kitchen to where Jean waves as Nino approaches.

“Morning.” Nino reaches over and puts the back of his hand against Jean’s forehead. Jean closes his eyes and sighs at the touch. “Your hand’s cold.”

“That’s because you’re burning up. Finish this and back into bed,” Nino tuts.

“Yes, sir,” Jean mocks, but he doesn’t move away from Nino’s hand and Nino lets his hand continue to rest against Jean’s skin.

Lotta hurries to put her back to the two so they don’t see her pleased grin.

When Lotta has to go, Jean’s convinced Nino to let him huddle on the couch with some jello instead of in his bed and Nino’s on the floor in front of him, laptop on the coffee table and the TV turned on to a baking show, the volume low.

She comes back several hours later to playful arguing in the kitchen. Jean’s wrapped up in a blanket at the kitchen table and Nino’s at the stove with his sleeves rolled up, heating up leftovers from their lunch. She’s just in time to be the tie-breaker on the matter of which bakery had the better tomato bread.

Neither boy is even close to being right and when Lotta provides the correct answer, they move to argue but pause, thinking, before admitting that she may be right.

“Of course I am,” she says, before coming around to kiss Jean’s cheek and see what Nino’s cooked because it smells delicious. They eat together, the boys filling Lotta in on what they did and Lotta talking about her classes. There’s laughter and smiles around the table and Nino and Jean keep looking to each other when they think no one else is watching.

Jean seems to be doing better the next day, but he’s still running a fever and overfilling wastebaskets with snot-filled tissues. Lotta’s only class is in the evening but she says she has a group project meeting during the day and Nino offers to come by again. She feels a little bad about lying but it’s for a good cause and is only validated when the doorbell rings and Jean insists on getting the door.

Lotta tiptoes after him and watches on as Nino’s expression softens as he greets Jean and Jean sways into Nino’s touch when Nino checks his temperature with his hand like the day prior. Nino’s face turns pink at Jean’s sigh, his smile soft and affectionate. “You seem better than yesterday.”

“Lotta won’t let me go to work though.”

Nino chuckles and brushes Jean’s hair back. His hand lingers before he takes it back and stuffs it into his pocket. “I said better, not fully recovered. Going to let me in?”

Lotta hurries away to not get caught and greets Nino when he’s passing the living room where she’s finishing up packing her bag for the day.

“What’re you two going to be up to today?” she asks.

“Finish a show we started yesterday?” Jean suggests, looking to Nino who makes no objections. “Will you be home for dinner?”

“I might be a little late, but yes,” Lotta answers. “But you don’t have to wait up for me if you get hungry.”

“I can cook something again. Save some for you when you get home so you don’t have to either,” Nino offers.

Lotta beams. “That would be great, if you don’t mind. We owe you, really.”

Nino shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Now you better get going or you’ll be late.”

Lotta pushes down the touch of guilt that spikes up. She’s just going to be going to a cafe near her school that she’s been wanting to try out with a few friends. But it’s for a good cause. “I’ll see you both tonight, then. Listen to Nino, Jean!”

She closes the door on Nino’s laughter and Jean’s mock-indignant shout that turns into hacking coughs and Nino’s worried alarm.

When Lotta gets home, she walks in on Nino coming out of the kitchen, which isn’t unusual but for the fact that he’s carrying Jean, one arm under Jean’s knees and the other supporting his back. Jean’s asleep, head pillowed against Nino’s chest.

“He fell asleep at the kitchen table,” Nino says quietly. “Just taking him to bed.”

And that’s all fair and innocent. It’s not the first time Lotta’s seen Nino carry Jean, especially after their nights out drinking since Jean’s never been able to hold his liquor well. But Nino’s ears are red and he isn’t meeting Lotta’s gaze, and he’s never carried Jean like this before.

“I’ll get the door,” is all Lotta says and she leads the way to Jean’s room, holding the door as Nino maneuvers through it sideways so Jean’s legs don’t hit the door frame.

Lotta hurries after to pull back Jean’s sheets and Nino gently lays Jean down. They both freeze when Jean grumbles, rolls onto his side facing Nino and grabbing onto Nino’s arm. Nino almost falls on Jean but catches himself against the headboard, braced over Jean who shifts around, ends up hugging Nino’s arm to his chest before he’s finally content and relaxes.

Lotta bites her lip to keep from giggling. Nino looks like he can’t pick between being panicked and thoroughly endeared.

Nino waits a beat before he slowly wiggles his arm free. Jean frowns, whines in the back of his throat but Nino frees himself and Jean doesn’t wake up. Only grumbles before turning over onto his other side and nuzzling into his pillow. He looks upset for a moment before his face smooths out in sleep.

Lotta and Nino quickly and quietly leave Jean to it, Lotta closing the door behind them with a quiet click.

“I’ve never seen him do that,” Lotta says innocently, glancing up at Nino.

Nino scratches the back of his head, his cheeks dusted light pink. “He’s just sick.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of the matter. Lotta doesn’t do anything to help.

Day three of Jean’s cold he’s doing a lot better. His coughs aren’t as harsh and his sneezing and sniffling has reduced considerably. He’s still feverish and tired though but will probably be well enough to return to work by tomorrow. Lotta’s somewhat impressed he didn’t fight so much to go to work earlier but she has a feeling she knows the cause.

Nino comes over again in the afternoon with a bag of the best tomato bread in Badon and a sheepish smile. Lotta had only had a morning class and Jean had still been asleep when she got home. There weren’t any plans for Nino to come over and help again, but like with Jean, she isn’t all that surprised.

“How’s Jean?” he asks, following Lotta to the kitchen so she can cut the bread and make some tea to go with it.

“Much better,” she replies. “Oh can you get me a plate? And a small bowl? But yes, his fever’s almost completely gone.”

Nino grabs a large plate and Lotta arranges the sliced bread on it. She goes into the fridge and grabs what she needs to make a quick salsa to go with the bread. Nino helps, getting olive oil and salt and helping her chop the vegetables. They work together and Nino asks about her class that morning and Lotta asks after his work and any upcoming assignments for the newspaper he’s freelancing for.

He’s talking about a work trip he’s going on next month to Dowa and then Suitsu, in the middle of promising to bring back regional specialties, when Jean stumbles into the kitchen. “Lotta, have you seen my—Oh, Nino?”

“Hey, J—!” Nino cuts himself off with a bitten back curse. Metal clatters and alarm blooms on Jean’s face.

Alarmed, Lotta turns to check on Nino and the first thing she sees is blood. It’s all over Nino’s fingers, the cutting board, and the cilantro he’d been chopping. She quickly ushers him to the sink and tells Jean to go and get their first aid kit. Luckily, the blood had made the cut look worse than it actually was and doesn’t look like a trip to the emergency room.

“Hold this to the cut,” Lotta says, handing Nino a paper towel. She has him sit at the kitchen table just as Jean returns with the first aid kit.

“Here.” Jean sets the kit on the table and opens it up. He takes out the packet of antiseptic wipes and a box of waterproof bandages, pulling out a strip and removing the wrapping.

“You’re sick, why are you running around with wet hair and no shirt?” Nino doesn’t look at Jean.

“I was looking for the flannel shirt you got me a few birthdays ago.”

Lotta knows exactly which shirt Jean’s talking about. It’s the softest thing he owns because of how often he wears it. It’s about two and a half sizes too big and always sliding off one of his shoulders. Nino’d offered to exchange it for a size that fits but Jean said he was happy with it as is. And he has been. He’ll always wear it when he’s not feeling well or wants to have a comfy, lazy day. Lotta’s also noticed he tends to pull it out when Nino’s away for work and they don’t see him for a while. She’s not sure Jean’s aware of that particular habit.

“It’s in the dryer, I haven’t had a chance to fold up the laundry yet. Take care of Nino, I’ll go find it.”

Jean’s in the middle of saying no but Lotta’s already up and heading to their laundry closet, leaving Nino with Jean. She finds the shirt quickly, shaking out the wrinkles, before returning to the kitchen. She hides for a moment at the corner before revealing herself.

Jean’s taken her seat and is in the middle of applying a bandage to Nino’s finger. Nino’s looking everywhere but at Jean, or at least trying to. His flushed face is angled to the side but his eyes keep drifting back to Jean bent over carefully applying the bandage.

“There.” Jean sits up and Nino takes his hand back.

“It’s really not a big deal, I could have taken care of it myself,” Nino says. “Seriously, where’s your towel, you need to dry your hair. And put on a shirt.” There’s a hidden please, tense, just shy of desperate.

Lotta makes her appearance then, brandishing Jean’s shirt. “Found it. Here. And Nino’s right, you should to dry your hair. It’s still dripping, Jean.”

“Okay, okay.” Jean takes the shirt. “I left my towel in the bathroom.” He heads back to his room while tugging the shirt on.

Lotta and Nino share a fond, commiserating look at Jean’s behaviour. There’s no one else he’d behave spoiled and childish in front of, whether he was sick or not.

While Jean dressed and dried his hair, Lotta returns to the almost finished salsa. She cleans up the bloodied cilantro, staring Nino back into sitting when he tries to get up and help. They still have plenty of the herb left and Lotta quickly chops enough to finish up the salsa, adding a squeeze of lemon as a finishing touch.

Jean returns with his shirt buttoned up but the neckline hangs low on his sternum and the sleeves inch just past his fingertips. His towel is hanging around his shoulders and while his hair looks more ruffled than it had been, it’s still visibly damp.

“Oh come here,” Nino says. He pulls the towel from Jean’s shoulders and shepherds him to a chair, sitting him down and standing behind him. He drops the towel on Jean’s head and starts properly drying his hair.

“I’m sick, not a child,” Jean grumbles, but he laughs and he tilts his head to make it easier for Nino and Nino’s got a smile of his own. Lotta finishes the salsa and heats slices of the tomato bread for a few seconds on the stove, just to lightly toast them before setting them on a large plate around the bowl of salsa.

Nino’s done with Jean’s hair when she sets the snack on the table. “There we go. Oh, what do you boys want to drink?”

“Sit down, Lotta,” Nino says. “I can make a pot of tea for all of us.” Lotta goes to argue, but Nino folds Jean’s towel over the back of Jean’s chair and rounds the table to gently guide Lotta into a chair, his hands on her shoulders. “I cut my finger, barely. Just, relax.” He goes to fill up the kettle and pull out three mismatched mugs, Lotta’s favorite, Jean’s favorite, and the one the Otuses bought specifically for Nino. “How’s that project going?”

“Oh, uh, good.” The question catches her off-guard, takes her a moment to remember the little lie from earlier. She busies herself from the lie by helping herself to bread and salsa. “We’re pretty much done.”

Jean’s watching her from across the table, a brow slightly raised. “What’s it about again?”

“Just something for my poli-sci class.” Lotta takes a large bite of bread so she can’t talk anymore. Jean’s eyes narrow slightly and Lotta widens hers innocently.

When Nino joins them, tea brewed and made to each person’s liking, he looks between the two siblings. “Did I miss something?”

“Just the bread. Told you it’s the best tomato bread in the city,” Lotta chirps. She doesn’t respond to Jean’s suspicious look over his mug.

With the exception of a few sniffles and the odd cough, Jean makes a full recovery and is back to work by the end of the week. He could have used up another sick day and just gone back in on Monday, none of his coworkers or Owl would mind and in fact encourage it, but as much as Jean complains of his transfers never going through, he’s got his fair share of workaholic tendencies.

Lotta’s preparing dinner when Jean gets home.

“Hey! Wash up and help me with dinner. I’m making pasta.”

“Hey, yeah, give me a minute,” Jean replies. His gaze drifts around the apartment, looking for someone, and Lotta can tell it’s an unconscious action. She doesn’t say anything until Jean’s swapped his uniform for comfy pajamas and is by her side grilling chicken.

“Got used to having Nino around,” she says idly. “Reminded me of the past.” Even though she has ulterior motives, it’s an honest comment. Nino and Jean were attached at the hip when they were in high school and even through college despite their different departments. Granted, Nino had an agenda, but the relationship he forged with her and Jean and even their parents was authentic.

Jean laughs. “If Nino wasn’t over, I’d be at his.”

“And he always brought me treats or sent you back home with them.”

Jean hip checks her gently. “So easily bribed by baked goods and sweets.”

Lotta checks him back. “At least I get something in exchange. Nino just has to smile at you and you’ll do whatever he says.”

It may have been too direct, but Jean flusters and nearly flings a piece of chicken breast into the wall. He composes himself, or at least tries to. “That’s—he’s my best friend.”

Lotta could continue to press, but fast-tracking a decade of mutual pining and obliviousness is a delicate matter and she can’t push too much too quickly. “We should do something to thank him, though, for helping out this past week.”

“You know Nino’ll brush any thanks off.”

“Yes, but we could treat him to dinner or something. It’s been a while since we all went out for a nice meal anyway.”

She can tell Jean’s considering it, more than considering it. His hesitation is from trying not to seem too eager, but his unconscious smile and excited energy betray him.

“True.” His lips purse in thought before he seems to recall something. “He mentioned a hotpot place near the park he wants to try. Early dinner on Sunday?”

“We haven’t had hotpot in forever! I’ll invite him.”

“No!” Jean rushes. His ears warm as he collects himself, “I mean, I can tell him. I was the one he, and you, had to deal with. Let me handle everything.”

Lotta bites back her grin. “If you insist. Why don’t you call him now? I can finish up here.”

Jean hesitates for a moment but hands over the spatula and goes off to get his phone. Lotta lowers the heat to medium and keeps her ears open when Jean’s call connects. She stifles a laugh when Jean’s voice cracks at his first attempt at hello.

“No, I’m fine,” he says after a pause. Lotta can imagine him rolling his eyes by his tone. He clears his throat. “Actually, I was, uh, well, Lotta and I were wondering if you were free Sunday night, say six? It’s been a while since we went out to eat together and you said you wanted to try that hotpot place. Yes, I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t want to thank you anyway. Let me—us—treat you to dinner.”

It’s almost painful listening to Jean stumble and stutter and correct himself while doing something he’s obliviously done for years, but all Lotta wants is to hear Nino’s side of the conversation. She can imagine he’s doing no better than her brother.

“We’re treating you, Nino, whether you like it not.” After a pause, Jean’s voice softens. “Yeah, see you Sunday.”

Lotta and Jean walk up to the hotpot place to find Nino already there by the entrance. He’s in his usual turtleneck and jeans, but his combat boots have been swapped out for shiny leather loafers and he’s thrown on a fitted blazer. And he’s not alone. There are two girls giggling around him. Nino doesn’t seem as interested in whatever their conversation keeps glancing at his phone. Jean starts slowing down.

Lotta is not about to have silly misunderstandings detract or even slow down her progress with the two boys, especially when they’ve been doing so well. Jumping up and waving, she calls out, “Nino!” and hurries over. Nino’s face lightens in a sincere smile and he excuses himself from the girls.

Lotta runs into Nino with a full bodied hug, wrapping her arms around Nino’s waist. She peeks around him to the girls who are looking on in disappointment and barely holds back from sticking her tongue out at them as they turn around and walk away. She looks back up at Nino. “Did you wait long?” They aren’t late, but they’re not early like they usually plan to be. Jean had a crisis over what shirt to wear, though he won’t admit it. But the shirt Lotta helped him pick brings out his eyes and accentuate his waist and Nino’s eyes are fixed on him.

“Just got here myself,” Nino says almost absently. Lotta pulls out of the hug and waits for Jean to catch up to them. When he does, the two just stare at each other after saying quiet ‘hi’s like they’re high schoolers on their first date. Lotta considers pretending to have an emergency and have to leave the two alone for dinner. But they’ll have plenty of time for dates without a little sister third-wheeling in the future. Besides, she read the reviews for the restaurant and had been looking forward to trying several dishes all weekend.

“I’m starving,” she chirps, jarring the two out of their little world. “Let’s go in? I looked them up and they have rolled ice cream.”

The two laugh at that, Nino ruffling Lotta’s hair. “That’s how I heard about this place. A client recommended the matcha.”

“Let��s have dinner before we start thinking about dessert,” Jean says. He leads the way into the restaurant while Lotta shares a knowing look with Nino. They never leave without ordering dessert, even if they have to take it home for later.

They get a booth against the wall, glossy black with cushioned benches. Nino takes a seat on one side, Jean slides into the other, and Lotta beside Jean. Nino tries to keep his orders simple and towards the cheaper end but Jean orders all of Nino’s favorites for him, Nino glaring from across the table and Lotta laughing at their antics. They end up with a spread that’s more than enough for three, maybe even four. Nino takes charge of cooking until both Lotta and Jean bat his chopsticks away and Jean threatens to confiscate Lotta’s to preside as designated hotpot cook.

At first, there’s visible awkwardness between Nino and Jean, the two taking turns at being flustered and sneaking glances when the other isn’t looking. It’s adorable if ridiculous. But eventually, conversation flows smoothly as they argue over when a vegetable or meat is done and Jean forgetting to give himself food once it’s ready. Jean gripes about trips, talks fondly about the new addition to his team even though the new kid makes Jean feel like he’s a hundred years old.

“Imagine that,” Nino says with wry grin.

Jean kicks him gently under the table. “You could pass for being younger than me.”

Nino laughs like it’s a joke, but Jean’s right. Ever since he revealed the truth, he’s stopped hiding the signs of his age but Lotta still thinks he looks of an age with Jean, and not nearly a decade older. He’d looked closer in age to Lotta when he spiked his hair and hid the creases around his eyes. Even the bits of silver coming into his hair didn’t age him much. Jean’s grays were just better hidden in his blond hair.

They steadily eat and soon there’s nothing but the broth left. Nino finishes his glass of water and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “That was great. Thank you both.”

“This was our thank you,” Jean says, “So no thank yous from you tonight.”

Nino rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling wide enough his crows feet he’d worn glasses to hide make an appearance.

Lotta leans back and sighs happily. “I’m so full. One of you will have to carry me home.”

“Too full for dessert?” Jean teases. But when he flags down their waiter to ask for their bill, he asks for three orders of their rolled ice cream to-go.

When they step outside, Nino walks with them to the curb to flag down a cab. They catch one fairly quickly, it was still early enough in the night on a Sunday, and Jean slides in first, Lotta right behind him.

“What’re you doing, get in,” Lotta says when Nino bends into the open door and tries to say goodnight. She lightly shakes their bag of take out. “We’ve got ice cream to eat.”

Nino seems to hesitate but he looks past Lotta’s shoulder and his mouth quirks into a reluctant smile before he gets in and closes the door behind him. Lotta looks up and catches Jean’s expression in the rear view mirror, a pleased little grin, as he tells the driver their address.

When they get home, they make their way to the living room to enjoy their dessert. Lotta hands out the three plastic boxes—strawberry for Jean, chocolate for Nino, and matcha for herself—and the packed plastic spoons and get settled along the couch. Lotta takes the corner and grabs the TV remote. She puts on an episode from a food documentary series she’s been watching after Jean and Nino say they’re fine with anything and gets comfortable.

The three watch the episode, which takes place in Rokkusu, and eat their dessert in a comfortable, cozy silence with occasional commentary on something the show covers. Nino recognizes an area in one of the b-roll footage from a freelance job a while ago and Jean asks someone to remind him to check out one of the places the show mentions the next time he’s in the state for work.

They lose track of time, or at least Jean and Nino do, ending up more invested in the series than Lotta, her scheming aside. Ice cream long finished, empty containers left to be dealt with later on the coffee table, the two had sunk into the couch, and, as time went on, seemed to drift towards one another. Nino’s arm is stretched along the back of the couch, a hair’s breath from Jean’s neck and Jean’s drawn his legs up, knees directing his body towards the photographer. Neither seem to notice the way the space between them has been gradually diminishing. Lotta almost doesn’t want to disrupt the moment, but it is a Sunday night. Besides, there’ll be more nights.

About a quarter of the way through a third episode, Lotta yawns and stretches, and makes startled noise when she makes a point to check the clock on the wall. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

Nino looks up. “Oh wow. You’re right. I should get going.” He sits up and pulls away from Jean, starting to clean up.

But Jean stops him, reaching out and catching Nino’s arm. “It’ll be even later by the time you get back to your place,” he says. “Stay the night.”

Nino starts to shake his head. His eyes flash down to Jean’s hand curled around his bicep and he wavers.

Lotta goes for the second of weakness. “You’d have to wait for a cab and everything. Here. I’ll take care of that. Jean, get the blankets and prepare the couch and find something for Nino to sleep in.”

Before either can say another word, Lotta sweeps up the take-out containers to dispose of them in the kitchen. When she walks by the living room on her way to her room, Jean’s got an armful of blankets and Nino’s arranging pillows and cushions. She hides around the corner, just to observe.

Jean drops the collection of blankets on the coffee table, says, “I can sort this. Grab something of mine and take my bed tonight.”

“I’m perfectly fine with the couch.”

“It’s not good for your back,” Jean counters.

“Couch isn’t any good for your back either.”

“But you’re much older than me, remember,” Jean teases. Nino throws the pillow he’s holding at Jean, who catches it just before it hits him in the face. He’s grinning as he lowers it and hugs it to his chest. “But really. We dragged you out and brought you here.”

Nino walks over and reaches for the pillow. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to,” he says softly, Lotta almost can’t make out the words. Louder, her says, “Now give me that. One night on the couch won’t kill me. Besides, your couch is comfortable.”

Feeling guilty, like she’s intruding (she’s aware she’s being nosy and spying already) Lotta quietly makes her way to her room to get ready for bed.

An hour or so before her alarm is set to go off, Lotta wakes up, thirsty. She considers just going back to sleep but gets up and shuffles out of her room to go grab a glass of water from the kitchen. All the lights are off, only the faint glow of the sun rising bleeding through the drawn curtains lighting the apartment. She gets her water and makes to head back to her room to read for a bit before getting ready for the day, makes a slight detour to check in on whoever ended up taking the couch for the night.

She’s careful to tiptoe as she nears the living room but notices a distinct lack of blankets and middle-aged man on the couch. The bathroom door is cracked open, lights off, unoccupied. Frowning, she detours to the front door but all shoes are accounted for, Nino’s loafers lined up neatly next to Jean’s.

Confused, she walks back to her room. The boys will turn up for breakfast. As she passes by Jean’s door, it quietly swings open and Jean comes out, already dressed for work, coat folded over his arm. His eyes widen at seeing Lotta and he closes the door quietly behind him. “Morning,” he whispers. “You’re up early.”

Lotta shakes her glass of water, matches his quiet tone. “Thirsty.” She doesn’t point out that he’s up and dressed earlier than usual as well. “Where’s Nino?”

To Lotta’s surprise, Jean’s ears turn bright red and he glances off to the side. “He’s, uh. We argued about who would take the couch last night. Comprised and shared my bed.” He adds, almost a little defensively, “It’s big enough. He’s using my bathroom.”

Lotta does her absolute best not to betray her thoughts on her face. Jean’s bed is big enough for two, but only just. Especially when the two people are men over 180cm. “I was thinking pancakes for breakfast? We have chocolate chips, I think. I just need to wash up.”

Jean seems relieved that Lotta doesn’t comment on what he’d revealed. “ I got it, you go get ready for the day.”

“Okay, thanks. Start some coffee too, please?”

Jean nods with a smile and ruffles her hair before heading off to make breakfast for everyone. When Lotta’s done getting ready, she comes back into the kitchen to Jean pouring pancake batter into a pan and Nino nursing a mug of coffee at Jean’s side, looking down at her brother with the softest, fondest expression as Jean talks too quietly for Lotta to make out the words.

She quietly tiptoes back to her room. She can take a little longer to get ready.

The next week or so go by with nothing too unusual. Jean ends up appointed to staff a recruitment table at a local high schools’ career fairs for the next week or so with the new kid and ends up coming home earlier than usual. Nino’s out of town for a job and swinging by Jumoku to get some photos of a local festival that will coincide with his travels. And Lotta prepares for her upcoming exams. She spends more time at school or the library, her food science class has a standing study group session twice a week before the final, coming home late enough that Jean’s taken charge of meals so Lotta can focus on school.

After the last study session that had ended up running later than usual since they all decided to treat themselves to dessert crepes as a reward for all their studying, Lotta cheerfully makes her way home. She can’t wait to tell Jean about the food truck, knowing he’d love the strawberry cream with lemon drizzle option and Nino the double chocolate brownie.

“I’m home!” Lotta calls out, closing the door. She toes off her shoes and puts them away, noticing a familiar pair of boots. “Nino, I didn’t know you—!”

Clapping both her hands to her mouth, Lotta stares at the scene in the living room, lit by the soft golden late-afternoon sun, doing her best not to make any further noise.

Cuddled up together on the couch are Jean and Nino, fast asleep. Jean’s wrapped up in his favorite blanket and curled up against Nino, using Nino’s shoulder as a pillow. Nino’s got his arm around Jean, his cheek resting against Jean’s head, his breath gently fluttering Jean’s hair with each exhale. In the late afternoon glow, they look soft and peaceful and Lotta’s grateful she didn’t accidentally wake them up.

She means to quietly leave, go back out and kill some time at the bakery or a cafe. Let the two continue their nap, wake up without interruption, have some time to themselves. Knowing Jean, knowing the both of them, really, if Lotta were home, any further progress would be halted if not undone.

But the scene is too sweet to not capture for the future.

Doing her best to be as quiet as possible, Lotta digs out her phone from her bag, wincing at every little sound that seems to echo ten times louder than usually. She quickly pulls up her camera app and lines up the shot, zooming in to frame the two men perfectly. She takes the photo and freezes in horror when she realizes she forgot to make sure her phone was on silent as the shutter sounds.

For a long second, Lotta holds her breath. Jean’s forehead creases in a frown. His nose scrunches up. But he turns his head, snuggles further into Nino’s and his expression smooths as he lets out a light snore and his chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths. Lotta closes her eyes, breathes a sigh of relief.

When she opens them, she meets Nino’s gaze.

Lotta fumbles her phone but just manages to catch it and hug it to her chest. Nino’s lips quirk into a held back laugh. In his arms, Jean shifts and mutters a quiet groan. To Lotta astonishment, Nino murmurs to her brother, words too quiet for her to make out, and lifts the arm that’s around Jean’s shoulders to stroke Jean’s hair. Jean smiles, mumbles something back but it must get lost in Nino’s shirt. When he’s settled again, Lotta’s heart is full and she can’t help her smile even if she wanted to. Nino looks up at her and there’s a light flush on his cheeks. He brings his other hand up, holds his index finger to his mouth. Lotta returns the gesture, grinning wide, and tiptoes back to the door.

Lotta is all smiles when she goes to her favorite cafe. She just shakes her head, lips sealed, when asked if anything happened by the familiar cashier. She orders a slice of her favorite cake and drink and fights the urge to text her grandfather, Owl, and Maggie. She can’t wait for Jean to tell her. Wonders if Nino will tell him Lotta saw them.

Almost an hour later, she gets a text from Nino asking if she would be fine with curry for dinner. He was spending the night and wanted to cook for them.

Lotta is more than happy with curry, and tells him so. She also says she’ll bring dessert. When asking for her check she asks for a to-go order of one of their small chocolate cakes that’s easily shared between three people, though Nino could polish off more than half on his own if he let himself.

Looking forward to it. See you soon, he replies. He also asks if she can send him a copy of the picture she took.

Nope! she replies, without any explanations. She’s already decided to get the photo printed and framed as part of her engagement gift to them. Hopefully that doesn’t take another fifteen odd years.

#ninojean #acca 13 #ACCA 13-Ku Kansatsu-Ka #nino #jean otus #lotta otus #my writing #tumblr fic

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ashhdaniellee95 · 5 years

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Bringing him & the crew lunch × Antonio Dawson

|Leena's POV|

It was a cold morning, when I wake up and slide out of bed to use the bathroom. I do my thing, brush my hair, wash my face and brush my teeth, and come back to the room to see my handsome husband laying in his spot on the bed, and smile.

I quietly give him a quick kiss on the lips, and head into the kitchen to make him breakfast.

I grab the carton of eggs, the milk, and sausage, and shut the door, then grab the coffee and start the coffee maker.

I grab a pan hanging from the island and put it on the stove then pour a little bit of oil in the pan.

I grab a small bowl from the cabinet and crack an egg in it, then pour it in the pan when it gets hot.

Antonio really likes his eggs with a little bit of yoke still runny, as do I.

I let the egg cook without poking the yoke, then turn it over and let it cool for a couple of seconds, then put it on a plate. As I put the other egg in the pan, i hear a creak from the floor from the bedroom, along with the creak of the door, and look over to see nothing but the door cracked open a little, and I left it closed. I think he might be trying to scare me.

I ignore the noises and continue to make breakfast for Antonio and me.

××

|Antonio's POV|

I slowly creep into the kitchen and hide behind the wall. I guess she heard the floor and door creek and looked over here, but she didn't see anything so she kept cooking.

After she turns her head back, I slowly creep forward, getting closer to her as much as I can without getting caught.

I sneak around the island and wait for the right time, then go around to her and wrap my arms around her tightly, and she jumps. "Toni, why'd you do that? I could've drop the eggs on you." I smile at her, "Oh baby, I'm sorry. I was just getting you back from the other day. I didn't mean to scare you." She smiles back, "it's okay I forgive you. I made us breakfast. Come eat." I grab my coffee and the sausage and sit at the table and wait for Leena.

She sits down with the eggs and two plates with her glass of milk then makes our plates. She gives me two eggs and a piece of sausage and does the same for her, then we dig in.

After we eat, and I get ready for work, I give Leena a kiss and head to Intelligence.

××

|Leena's POV|

After Antonio leaves for work, I wash all the dishes and put them up, then get a shower and get ready for work myself.

I have two jobs, I work during the day at a local diner/bakery as a waitress, and I'm the manager there as well, and my other job, I post ads to Instagram and Facebook whenever I have time off, or when I'm not working during the week.

I make sure I have all my stuff, my phone, purse, keys, etc. and head out the door.

I get in my Toyota 4 Runner, and put my keys in the ignition and turn on the engine. I back out of the drive way, and drive off.

20 some minutes later I pull up in my 'manager' parking spot and shut off the engine. I grab my things, lock my car and head inside through the back door.

I walk to my locker and put my things inside then close and lock it, then get to work.

When I became manager, I went from wearing a normal waitress outfit, to wearing jeans and a shirt. And the reason I became manager in the first place is because my aunt and uncle own and run this diner, and they knew I could take care of it in case they couldn't come in to run it themselves. You can do a lot of things when you're the manager at a diner.

I clock in on the machine and the register and put my apron on and get to work. Our busiest days are Sunday's and Wednesday's, and today's Monday, so it's probably not gonna be busy today.

As the day goes on, a few people come in and sit, and a few pickup/delivery orders come in over the phone. I help the customers with their orders, make sure they have plenty of drinks, and cash out a customer on the cash register.

Around 12:46 when it's dead, I tell the other waiters that I'm going on break, and tell the cook to make two egg and tomato and cheese sandwiches with our special mayo sauce, along with 4 other different things, and to make me a shredded ham and chicken salad with tomatoes, eggs, blue cheese crumbles, and bacon crumbles with plenty of avocado and avocado ranch dressing.

As he makes the food, I total everything up, and cash out with my card on the cash register.

The cooks put everything in boxes then in bags, then hands them to me and my coworker helps me take them to my car.

I thank her and grab my keys, phone and wallet and get inside my Toyota, and head off to the Intelligence unit.

××

I pull up into a guest spot and turn off the engine, then grab the food and head inside.

I greet Trudy with a smile, "hey Trudy, you hungry? I didn't know what you'd want so I brought a few different things." "Well, thank you Dawson." I smile at my last name. "Hey, can you tell Kim to come down? I want her to help me take this upstairs to the bullcage." "Of course, anything for my favorite Dawson." She winks at me. "I didn't know I was your favorite." She smiles and puts her index finger up to her lips. I smile and nod. "I won't tell. Promise." "Thank you for lunch. If you deliver, I'll call you for lunch. How much do I owe you?" I wave her off. "On the house. Don't sweat it." She smiles and thanks me as Kim comes up to me. "Hey, Lee. That lunch?" I nod my head. "For the crew. I just needed someone to help me take it upstairs. Plus, you and Trudy are the only ones who know about this, that it until we go upstairs and everyone see me with lunch." She laughs. "Alright, come on. I'll help you."

She grabs both the drink trays and a bag and we head upstairs.

She put her hand on the palm scanner and it lets her in.

We get upstairs and she tells everyone she's got lunch. "Aw, you didn't tell me you loved me." Came from Adam. "It's for everyone. Where's Antonio at?" Kevin answers, "bathroom." I nod my head. "Ah, okay. Well I've got lunch for everyone. I just got a few different things. If someone calls in a head of time, I'll get everyone what they want next time."

Everyone chimes in with "okay" and "thank you", then I hear "is that my wife?" My head swivels to see my husband coming towards me with a hug and a kiss. I smile, "I brought you and the crew lunch. My dime, so nobody owes me anything." "Well that was nice." "Yeah, it was dead over there, so I figured I'd bring lunch to you instead of someone over here coming to pick it up." I dig inside the bag until I come across a box with Antonio's name on the top, then hand it to him. "You're favorite, with fries." He kisses my forehead and goes to his desk. "Thanks."

Hank comes out of his office with a smile to greet me and he picks out his lunch.

After everyone grabs what they want, and I eat with them for a little bit, I say bye to everyone and give my husband a kiss, then head back downstairs to Trudy.

"Trudy I'm heading out. I'll see you tomorrow." She smiles, "Bye kiddo."

As I walk out the front door, I hear someone say "hey baby, wait up." from behind me and know who it is, so I stop at the door. "Let me walk you to your car. Since you know, it's cold and all." I smile at him. "Okay." He walks with me to my car, holding the extra stuff in his hands as we walk.

When we get to my car, I unlock it and he puts the stuff in the back seat and shuts the door.

I lean my back up against my driver's side door, and he stands in front of me with a smile on his face. "What's the smile for?" I ask. I see him look down, then back up. "No reason. Just that I love seeing you come bring us lunch is all." I look at him sideways, "Mmhmm. Yeah, okay." "It was really good. Everyone loved their food." "Yeah, I don't mind every once in a while, just as long as everyone let's me know what they want ahead of time." "I'll be sure to remember that." We stay like that for a few more minutes before I speak up. "I have to go, Toni." He nods his head. "Okay, I'll see you later at home. Love you." I smile at him, and lean up towards him and give him a kiss, "love you too." He opens my door, and let's me get in, before he smiles at me, his breath showing in the winter cold, and shuts the door and then I head back to the diner.

#antonio dawson imagine #Antonio Dawson fluff #Chicago PD #Kim Burgess #Jay Halstead #Hank Voight #Kevin Atwater #Adam Ruzek #winter #cold #lunch #Trudy Platt #Hailey Upton

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betweensceneswriter · 5 years

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Island Hopper-Chapter 21: Fertile Myrtle

Christmas surprises and a doctor’s visit

Previously on Island Hopper (Jimjeran Book 2): Chapter 20: Stocking Stuffers Christmas Eve Day/Christmas Morning Mashup

Island Hopper (Jimjeran Book 2) Full Table of Contents

Island Fever (Jimjeran Book 1) Table of Contents

Buy the revised, improved, de-Outlandered version of book one in paperback or on Kindle! Or just leave a review. I’ve got 11–thanks a bunch to those who have left one!

"I’ll slice the star fruit,” I offered, pulling a knife out of the block and one of the cutting boards from the cabinet, then coming to stand by my dad at the counter as he cut up fresh fruit for Christmas breakfast. Jamie perched on a stool at the island sleepily, devoting his attention to a cup of coffee, his freshly-showered hair in damp ringlets around his ears. He wore a fitted tee shirt, and I managed to get distracted from my fruit-cutting to stare at him for a few moments until he caught my eye. He looked down at his chest, and then slowly looked back up at me, realization flooding over his features.

“D’ye need me to hunt down a spider for you?” he asked with a grin, nose wrinkling at me. “Or is it just that your self-control hasna awoken yet?”

I shook my head with a guilty smirk, feeling flushed and slightly embarrassed even though none of my family seemed to have noticed our interchange.

At my sous chef post I nearly ran into my mother as she bent over to remove a pan of biscuits from the oven. Next to her Shelly stood at the stove top stirring some rapidly bubbling sausage gravy, and in the corner of the kitchen Seth was grinding more coffee for a second fill of the French press.

“I feel I shouldna be so lazy,” Jamie mused with a grin as he looked around the kitchen, “Wi’ all of you working so hard. But truly, I dinna think there’s room for another body in that space, as much as I’d like to be helpful.”

“Set the table,” I ordered, wiping my hands on a towel before retrieving a stack of dishes from the cupboard. “That way you don’t have to squeeze in here with us, but you don’t have to feel ‘so lazy’.”

Breakfast was a noisy affair with tales of favorite presents from Christmases past. Jamie took lead on the clean-up, with a meaningful glance in my direction that ended with me standing next to him, rinsing dishes and then handing them off for him to put in the dishwasher.

We were about to settle around the living room to open Christmas gifts when Dad got the call. It was hard to tell who had called him from our end, but I could make a pretty good guess. Christmas tended to be an emotional time of year on the base with airmen far away from their families. There had rarely been a Christmas when he hadn’t gotten a call to minister to someone—whether they were suicidal or just needing a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on.

I was right, gauging from the way my dad hung up the phone and turned toward us with an apologetic expression on his face.

“We’re not six years old anymore, dad,” Shelly teased as he made his excuses. “We can wait until later for presents!”

Despite Shelley's assurances, after dad left we sat around the front room aimlessly, trying to decide what to do.

“Well, we could go to Tarague,” Seth finally suggested. The rest of us were quick to agree, and so was Jamie once I explained that Tarague was a white sand beach on the Air Force base there on the northern coast of the island. For whatever geological reason it was the best of the beaches on Guam, many of which had coarse coral instead of fine sand.

Entering the air force base was the challenge, though my mother, Seth, and Shelly had base passes. Jamie and I handed over our passports, at which the guards looked us up and down while inspecting our unflattering photos. At the mention of Major Beecher, though, the MP smiled and waved us through.

The irony of wearing shorts and a tank top on Christmas didn't escape me, nor did it seem to escape Jamie, who looked me up and down with a small smile on his face. He was quick to pull me into his side affectionately as we began walking down the beach.

“Hey, Claire, do you remember that song you made up when I was little?” Shelly asked, walking backward in front of us. She grinned as she started to sing, rolling her hips in a hula motion.

“I’m dreaming of a green Christmas Just like the ones I used to know…”

With her hands, Shelly made graceful motions indicative of waves and wind and trees...

“Where the palm trees sway and children play And no one cares about the snow…”

Initially I rolled my eyes at Jamie, embarrassed of my younger self, but eventually I couldn't resist and joined her in belting out the last few lines.

“May your days be merry… And keen! And may all your Christmases be green!”

Jamie pretended to ignore us, but his little half-smile and raised eyebrows gave him away. The tide was low, so we walked out onto the wet packed sand, inspecting the surface carefully for shells.

“Remember,” mom scolded as I turned to Jamie, holding up a small spotted cowrie shell. “You can look for them, but you can’t take them!” At Jamie’s confused expression, she explained, “The naval base wants to protect the area, so they have stringent guidelines about beach behavior.”

“Including not taking shells,” said Seth. “Hey, man, you want to run? Breakfast was bad enough. Just wait until you see the calories you’ll be consuming for Christmas dinner.”

With a cursory nod, Jamie smiled. The two curly-headed guys--one ginger and one black-haired--began to jog ahead of us down the beach.

“I need exercise, too,” Shelly said, taking off after the two with little hesitation. I looked helplessly at my mom, and then followed behind them down the hard-packed white sand, sprinting as fast as I could to catch up to the boys and long-legged Shelly, all of whom were jogging with an easy lope.

“Hey, short stuff,” Seth teased as I came panting up behind them. “Those little legs just aren’t very fast!”

“Little legs, you say?!” I exclaimed in disgust, proceeding to shove Seth toward the waves, at a great advantage because of my low center of gravity. Seth stumbled and pushed back against me, but then got an impish look on his face. He bent over and grabbed me around the hips, lifting me up over his shoulder--my behind stuck up in the air--and headed toward the ocean.

I shrieked and pummeled his back. “Put me down, you dipwad,” I said. I could see the water around Seth’s feet and hear the waves getting closer. I knew the next sensation was going to be being plunged fully-clothed into cold ocean water, but then I saw another pair of large feet approach behind us.

“I’ll thank ye to unhand my wife, brother,” a deep voice said. I craned my neck to see Jamie, holding his hand out toward Seth.

Seth laughed and let me down gently, splashing sea water on my legs after I found my footing. I met Jamie’s eyes and smiled gratefully, then reached for his hand to walk back down the beach toward my mom.

Christmas evening, it was almost time for me to go pick up Joe when Mom got a message from Amy. Away on the other side of the earth, she had gathered Paul and my niece and nephews to videochat with us. They were all crowded together on their couch in matching pajamas, making faces at us when the call started.

“Gamma!” Three-year-old Evan started the greetings.

“You’ve gotten so big!” my mom exclaimed, then gave each grandbaby a little bit of attention. Five-year-old Kellen needed to show her his fingernail, blackened by smashing it in the car door. Seven-year old Brett grinned to show off his most recent tooth loss, and nine-year old Elsie stood up and twirled to demonstrate her latest moves from ballet.

After each grandchild felt noticed, Amy urged them to sit down so she could see. “Claire!” she exclaimed, once the little bodies had settled and squeezed in (and in the case of Evan, ran off to play). “Are you going to introduce me to your new husband?” I took the laptop from Mom and turned it toward the two of us so Jamie was in the frame with me.

“This is Jamie,” I said, leaning into him as he waved. “Jamie, my sister Amy..” After a little radio silence, Amy waved, “And her husband Paul” at which Paul waved as well. “And that’s Brett,” I said, pointing to the oldest boy with brunette hair, “And that one is Kellen,” I said, at which he stuck his tongue out at us. “Elsie is the only girl” met with a prim, shy smile. “And Evan is three,” warranted a run-by from the littlest, squealing “I’m fweeeeee!” as he raced past.

“Hiya to ye all,” said Jamie. “I hope we shall meet in person one day.”

Because of the lag time, a look of mortification had already appeared on Amy’s face by the time we heard the question that had caused it. “Where’s Uncle Frank?” Kellen asked, a look of confusion on his face.

“Oh, he’s not here,” I answered, trying to be as casual as possible as I inwardly cringed. “This is Uncle Jamie.”

Kellen responded offhandedly by simply chirping “Okay” and hopping off Paul’s lap. I felt Jamie’s tension dissipate quickly after that.

Via the computer screen Amy and family made the rounds, being passed to Seth, Shelly, and then back to Mom.

“So, where’s Daddy?” Amy asked

“You know, being a dad,” Mom responded. “He’s off at the base making sure the airmen make it through the holidays.”

Amy’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “That’s right, isn’t it? I’d almost forgotten… Well, Paul and I were hoping he’d be here for us to give you guys our Christmas present for the year.”

My mom nearly squealed with excitement. “Are you coming to visit?”

I scooted closer to my mom so I could see Amy, who was currently shaking her head with a impish smile on her face.

“Seth? Shelly?” Amy called out. “Can you guys come over so you can all see?”

Paul was grinning at Amy as Seth and Shelly squeezed in with us on the couch and Mom pushed the computer out on the coffee table so we were all in the frame.

Paul and Amy met each other’s eyes and nodded, and then Amy leaned off-screen as if to grab something.

Just as she was coming back into frame, the screen blipped and went blank.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Seth said.

“Sethy, language!” my mother scolded.

Jamie gently elbowed me in the ribs with a little snicker. “She finds that offensive?” he whispered. “She would be absolutely stunned at you, ye potty-mouthed wee heathen.”

Seth was shuffling through a mess on the desk trying to find the power cord for the laptop when there was the sound of the front door opening. By the time the laptop had rebooted, my dad was also established on the couch with the rest of us, awaiting the call from Amy.

It didn’t take long for us to apologize before Amy picked up a piece of paper from her lap.

“What is it?” my mom asked, leaning forward to peer at the pixelated rectangle on the screen.

Amy held it upright, then rotated it until we could see the black page with some grayish splotches on it and a little bit of white writing at the top and bottom of the picture.

An ultrasound.

“You’re kidding!” Shelly exclaimed, just as my mom said in a stunned whisper, “You’re pregnant?”

Soon the four other Nelson children were hopping around occluding our view of their parents, chanting, “We’re having another baby! We’re having another baby!”

After congratulations and more chatter, we hung up from the call. In silence, we all exchanged glances. After all, four children was already quite enough. But Amy had always loved being a mom, and every one of my nieces & nephews were delightful in their own way, so the thought of another one wasn’t overwhelming.

However, I could feel Jamie’s grip tighten on my hand.

I couldn’t decide how I felt. Sure, he could pity me. Jamie knew how much I longed for children. But he also knew that we’d already decided that now was not the time.

In fact, I’d had my mom make me an appointment with my gynecologist Dr. Cruz for the next day, Monday the 26th, to consult with her about birth control options.

I paused for a moment as I entered the lobby. At first I couldn’t see him, but then I spotted Jamie behind the low curved wall that separated the children’s area from the general waiting room. His left arm was around a pudgy baby perched on his knee who was gleefully gnawing on the pad of his thumb while Jamie used his other hand to do a puzzle on the table next to him, ordered about bossily by a dark-haired little girl as a kindergarten-aged boy hung off Jamie’s neck.

The weary mother of these three niñ-niñs was currently breastfeeding another dark-haired baby apparently the same age as the one drooling over Jamie’s thumb and onto his knee. He was adorable. Sure, the baby was cute, too; but it was Jamie that made my heart jump. I wanted to mate with him right then and there.

I walked over toward him, waiting through the moments it took for him to register my presence.

“You can come in with me now, babe,” I said, smiling apologetically at the mother. The baby at her breast was milk-drunk and sleepy, so she set that one aside into one of the two baby carriers on the floor next to her and took the other from Jamie’s outstretched arms. Once the little guy saw his mama and knew food was coming, he started fussing instantly, continuing until she pulled him under her privacy cape. From the sounds of noisy lips smacking, I could tell the he’d found his lunch.

“Thanks so much,” she said with a grateful smile at Jamie, then glanced over at me. “Are you guys having a baby?” she asked.

When I paused in shock, she simply smiled and nodded toward Jamie with her head, the only part of her body not currently engaged in taking care of children. “It’s just, he’s going to be a great dad.”

I smiled at him as Jamie blushed.

When we reached Dr. Cruz’s office door, Jamie made eye contact with me before we entered. “Are ye certain you want me to come in?” he asked. “You dinna mind if I hear what she has to say?”

“You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to,” I replied, a little hotly. “I just felt like…”

“I wasna trying to start an argument,” Jamie responded. “It just seems very… personal.”

“Says the man who helped me figure out what to do when my period came on our honeymoon,” I said in a firm whisper, drawing close to him. “You were the one who suggested I go on the pill, after all.”

Jamie took a deep breath. “I’m not sure why, but we both seem on the defensive about this. Itok, Ri-palle. Let’s go in as a team.”

I followed his lead and took a deep breath of my own, then grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“Dinna fash yerself,” he responded. “I ken ye have strong feelings about anything to do with fertility…”

Dr. Cruz invited us to sit opposite her at her desk, in two chairs set side-by-side. I was grateful she had brought us in there instead of the exam room--her office wall was covered with pictures of babies and numerous cards instead of the cringe-worthy posters of the female reproductive system that had been in the other location.

“From what we can see from the ultrasound, your ovaries look normal,” she said, pointing at two colorful blobs on the screen in front of her. “‘There did seem to be a few large collapsed cysts, which might indicate recent ovulation. Are the two of you wanting to pursue pregnancy?”

“In the future,” I said, “Not right away. We just got married a couple of months ago.”

Jamie raised his eyebrows at me as if questioning my honesty, and I grinned as I clarified, “Six weeks, a couple months…does it really matter?”

“So what are the two of you currently using for birth control?” she asked, glancing at us over her reading glasses.

“Nothing yet,” I responded, watching her eyebrows rise and feeling like some teenager getting scolded for unsafe sex. “I think I might be infertile, so we didn’t really worry about it.”

“We were, however, thinking that now might be a good time for birth control pills,” Jamie piped up. “To help with mood swings and the symptoms of PMS.”

Dr. Cruz pursed her lips. “I’m going to back you up just a bit... So Claire, you think you might be infertile? What brings you to that conclusion?”

“My ex-fiancé and I hadn’t used protection in five years and we hadn’t gotten pregnant,” I explained. “I’ve heard that no pregnancy within one year of unprotected sex is considered infertility, so I assumed that must be the case.”

The doctor’s forehead wrinkled and she nodded slowly as she opened up a window on her laptop. “Are your cycles regular or irregular?”

“Quite regular,” Jamie responded. “About every 27 days.”

The doctor’s cheeks dimpled as she tapped out a note on her computer. She looked up at Jamie. “You’re very observant, then.”

He blushed. “When something matters to me, I can be,” he joked with a grin.

“So, how long have the two of you been sexually active… with each other?” she asked.

“Six weeks?” I said hesitantly, making eye contact with Jamie, who flushed again with a slight shake of his head.

“When did you say you?....” Dr. Cruz’s voice trailed off as she realized the answer, her face barely registering a look of surprise; but then turning her attention to her screen again. “So, just a few more questions,” she said. “Have you had a blood test for STDs?”

“No,” I replied. “But I just had a blood test and physical before coming over to the Marshall Islands, and they checked for pretty much every communicable disease there is. And Jamie…” I turned to let him finish.

“I had the same--blood tests and immunizations--two years ago when I volunteered for UniServe International,” he answered.

“Have you always used protection since then, though?” she asked, persisting in her line of questioning.

“Well, I was a virgin when we married, ma’am,” Jamie offered. “I hadna had that kind of contact wi’ anyone.”

“What about oral?” She asked. ”Anal?”

Jamie's eyes widened and he flushed a deep red. “I said I was a virgin,” he stated, flustered.

“Some people don’t think those count,” she said, “though they can spread STDs just as often as vaginal intercourse if not more so. HPV, especially.”

For some odd reason, I felt like covering Jamie’s ears. Yes, he’d grown up around animals, and we had quite an open and honest relationship, but I snuck a glance at him to see that he was flushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

“For safety’s sake,” she said, “I would like to do a blood test for each of you. We gynecologists look out for different things than general practitioners.”

Jamie and I shrugged and nodded at her.

“Okay, let’s talk birth control,” she said. “So many options available, but I think what you want is one that provides a steady dose of progesterone. We could put it in an IUD, or you could get a shot every three months.”

“I’m a nurse practitioner,” I said, trying to save her the time. “I’ve given the Depo shot to many different women in the islands.”

“Then you may have an idea of what kind of method you want to use,” she responded, sitting back in her chair and looking at me, eyebrows raised.

“I thought just the pill,” I said. “I had some negative side effects the last time I used birth control, so I wouldn’t want anything that wouldn’t be easy to stop using.”

She pulled a stiff chart out from a rack behind her and put it down on the desk in front of us.

“If you haven’t used the pill for five years, you may have stopped before the current varieties were developed. There’s the typical 28-day packet you may have used before, or I could prescribe you the kind that cuts back to only four periods a year by keeping you on a steady dose of hormone for nearly three months, then placebo pills for a week.”

I eyed Jamie, who was listening intently, seeing that he had a question. “As one of the reasons Claire is looking at birth control is to regulate her emotions, would that be a good thing?”

“Actually, yes,” Dr. Cruz responded to him. “Those particular pills are often preferred by those who take the pill specifically for mood regulation because they don’t have the monthly drops in hormone levels that cause those mood swings.”

“And just one period every three months?” Jamie asked intently, leaning forward and looking at the chart in front of her as I chuckled and shook my head next to him, blushing slightly.

Dr. Cruz smiled at me. “Yes. I find many women appreciate the ability to not be concerned about their periods arriving at inconvenient times. And also to be more spontaneous in their sex lives,” she said, “unhampered by pain and flow every four weeks.”

I blushed and nodded.

"Well, what do you think, Jamie?” I asked, feeling some uncomfortable emotion rise inside that I couldn’t name.

He turned to me. “Claire, ye ken it isna my choice. What I care most about is that you feel better.”

I realized then what I was experiencing--bitterness. I hated being in the OBGYN waiting room. I hated pregnant bellies. I hated seeing car seats and binkies and baby blankets and nursing covers and tired-eyed mothers. Of course I felt a pang in my heart at the sight of fuzzy-headed infants, but I hated that pain too. And all that bitterness was manifesting itself as a fierce independence that didn’t want to be told what to do. If I didn’t have control over my ability to have children, I for damn sure didn’t want anyone else to try to take over my choice to NOT have children.

Jamie had reached over and was gently stroking my back, looking at my face. I could feel a thickness in my throat, could start to feel my eyes begin to tear up. Focusing on the comfort of Jamie’s warm hand on my back, trying to ignore the adorable photos of wide-eyed babies behind Dr. Cruz, I took a deep breath and sighed, leaning forward to go over my options once again.

Next on Island Hopper:

Chapter 22: Tarzan Falls A hike with friends, and an unexpected reunion at Our Lady of Lourdes.

#Island Hopper #Jimjeran book 2 #Jamie x Claire #BetweenSceneswriter #Marshall Islands #Guam #infertility #Christmas #fluff & angst

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emzalot · 5 years

Text

What A Furry Ride

Chapter 3 Set in Episode 4

It was in the tiny hours of the morning when a wolf howl echoes across town, signalling it’s location. It was the alpha. The howl woke Dani. She was at the Argent’s house and had fallen asleep with Allison in her room. She knew Scott would probably be climbing out of his window right now. She figured Derek would be on his way too.

Dani was tangled up with Allison and she tried not to move to much as she slid her phone out from under the pillow. She pulls up her messages deciding to text Scott. “Heard it too, Please be careful ❤" She sends, then slips her phone back under the pillow settling back in. Dani had just sunken into the pillows when she heard someone moving around in the hallway.

Allison stirs, waking up. “Who’s up?” She asks softly. Dani sits up listening for a moment. It was a pair of boots walking down the hallways toward the stairs. “Your dad” Dani says. “Let’s go see” Allison says. She slides out of bed and crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s cold” Dani complains. “Come on” she insists as she walks to the door. Dani groans and gets up following her out to the top of the stairs.

They watch her dad walk towards the door carrying a duffel bag. “What’s going on?” Allison asks. He turns around and looks up “You’re aunt Kate just texted, I’m heading out to pick her up.” Dani rubs her arms, “It’s two in the morning.” “Yeah, is everything okay?” Allison asks. “Yeah yeah, she’s just having a little car trouble” he says.

“It’s nothing serious is it?” Allison asks. “No, just a flat tire, go back to sleep girls,” he says. “Be careful” Dani says and he nods. They turn, walking back to her room. “Stick to your side of the bed this time” Dani grumbles. “Why, you don’t like snuggling?” She teases, bumping her shoulder with Dani’s. “Quit being gay.”

Derek squats down. looking at a few drops of blood on the ground. He touches it and rubs it over his fingers as he thinks for a second. He hears a noise and snaps to attention. On the next platform, not far from Derek was the alpha. It’s eyes glowing red as it makes eye contact with Derek. It didn’t last long.

The alpha scales the wall behind him, climbing up onto the roof. Derek follows him. He makes his way up onto the roof, seeing that the alpha had jumps to the next roof over. Derek runs across the roof, jumping at the edge. He was almost across the gap when someone fires a shot, knocking him out of the air and onto a cement platform bellow.

It was Kate, Allison’s aunt who shot him. Derek groans in pain as he sits up. The bullet was lodged into his upper forearm. It wasn’t a regular bullet unfortunately. A blueish fume was coming out of the wound and Derek wasn’t healing. Kate lowers the rifle when she sees a pair of headlights. It was Mr. Argent coming to pick her up.

She walks over to him as he gets out of the car. “Get in” he says. “Not even a hello, nice to see you?” she says. “All I’ve got at the moment is put the assault rifle away before someone notices” he says. Kate rolls her eyes, “That’s the brother I love.”

Scott was standing by the building behind Katie and listens in on their conversation. “Their were two of them” Kate says. “The alpha?” Chris asks. “I don’t know, but one of them tried to kill me” Kate says. “One of them is going to lead us to the other, he can’t do that if he’s dead” Chris points out. “Well I can’t help kill either of them if one of them kills me first” She says. “How long will it take?” He asks. “I give him 48 hours, if that.”

Back at the Argent house when it was properly morning, Allison was jumping on top of Dani like a five year old on Christmas morning. “Get up! My aunt’s here, come on!” She says for the millionth time, continuously jostling Dani. Dani growls and rolls onto her back. “Get off, I’ll say hi in a minute” she says and rolls back over. Allison rolls her eyes, “Fine, I’m gonna go say hi.”

Allison hops off the bed, the excitement radiating off of her. Dani rolls off the bed sinking into the floor with a groan. She slowly stand and ties her long hair up in a messy bun. The only thing radiating off of Dani was the need for coffee. Allison run down the hallway to the guest room. As soon as she sees Kate she squeals and rushes over to hug her.

“I don’t see you for a year and you turn into a frickin runway model?” Kate says as Allison sits on the bed. “Look at you! Ugh, hate you” shes says and smiles at Allison. “I haven’t even showered yet” Allison says. “Sweetie you’re a knock out. In fact, I hope you have the boys knocking each other’s teeth out for your attention.” Katie says.

“I kinda have one” Allison says. “You kinda have one? “Kate says, smiling. “Yeah, he’s my best friend’s younger brother” Allison says. “Really?” Kate says. “Is it that Dani girl you were telling me about on the phone?” Kate asks. “Yeah, that’s her.” Allison nods. “When do I get to meet her? Kate asks. Allison nods. “She’s here actually, so you can say hi at breakfast” Allison says. “Oh great” Kate says and smiles.

“Do you need some help unpacking?” Allison reaches for the black duffel bag. “No, not that one” Kate says quickly, firmly gripping Allison’s wrist. “See?” Kate says, letting go of her wrist. “You turn out beautiful and I end up with this crazy kung fu death grip!” She jokes.

“Sorry sweetie, I didn’t mean to do that” Kate says and walks to the bathroom. “No worries” Allison says. “Hey, is everything okay with your car?” Allison asks. “Uh, yeah. I just needed a jump start that’s all” Kate says. “A jump start?” Allison asks.

Downstairs, Mr. Argent was at the stove whipping up omelets, bacon, and biscuits. Mrs. Argent was setting plates at the bar for everyone. Dani was parked at the bar with a mug full of coffee. Allison and Kate come downstairs, “Morning everyone” Kate says. A few ‘morning’s were passed back to her while Dani threw up a piece sign, sipping her coffee.

Allison climbs onto the stool next to Dani. “What do you want in you’re omelet, sweetheart?” Mr. Argent asks. “Um...ham, sausage, and cheddar” She says. Mr. Argent walks over to the counter with the pan. He pulls Dani’s plate forward and pours her omelet onto it. “Thank you” she says. “You’re welcome” Mr. Argent says, pushing the plate back in front of her.

“So,” Kate pours herself a cup of coffee. “You must be Dani” She says and leans against the counter connecting the bar to the kitchen. “Yes ma’am” Dani says. “Kate Argent” she says and extends her hand. “Nice to meet you” Dani says shaking her hand. “How’s the omelet?” Mr. Argent asks. “It’s fantastic” Dani says and takes another bite.

He smiles as he comes over with Allison’s omelet. “What are you doing after school today?” Allison asks. She takes a bite of her omelet and thanks her dad. “Hanging out with Jackson” Dani says. “And Lydia?” Allison asks. “No she’s got something else going on” Dani says. Dani glances at the clock, “Crap, we gotta get ready.”

The girls take a few more bites of their breakfast and hop off their stools. “Be back down in a minute!” Allison says and they rush up the stairs. Allison parks in front of her closet while Dani digs through her bag. They throw on some clothes and park in front of the mirror to do their makeup.

“You got that test today, right?” Allison asks, applying some blush. “Yeah, dreading it” Dani says and applies a red matte lipstick. She quickly ties her hair back at the top, leaving the majority of her dark hair down. “You good?” Dani asks, grabbing her bags. “Yeah” Allison says, grabbing hers. They leave her room and make their way down the stairs. Dani gulps her last bit of coffee. “Come on!” Allison says. “It was really nice meeting you” Dani says to Kate and follows Allison out the door.

At school, Scott’s teacher was passing tests back to each student. Stiles, who’s sitting behind Scott, leans forward tapping his shoulder. “If Derek isn’t the alpha and he’s not the one who bit you, then who did?” he asks, leaning back. Scott thinks for a moment and shrugs, “I don’t know.” Stiles leans forward again. “Did the alpha kill the bus driver?” He asks. “I don’t know” Scott says, quietly.

Stiles leans back, letting out a huff as he thinks. “Does Allison’s dad know-” “I don’t know!” Scott snaps. The whole class was looking at them. Stiles leans back with a nervous smile, dropping the subject. Stiles gets his test. He got an A. Scott gets handed his next. He got a D-.

“Dude, you need to study more” Stiles says. Scott drops his test on the desk, frustrated. “That was a joke” Stiles says. “Scott it’s one test, you’re gonna make it up” he adds. “Do you want help studying?” He offers. Scott sighs, “No, I’m studying with Allison after school” Scott says. Stiles raises his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s my boy.”

“We’re just studying” Scott says. “Uh, no you’re not” Stiles says. Scott looks over his shoulder. “I’m not?” He asks. “Not if I’m forced to live vicariously through you” Stiles says. “If you go to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity, I- I swear-!” “-Okay!” Scott interrupts. “Just..stop with the questions” Scott says. “Done” Stiles says. “No more questions. No more talk about the alpha or Derek..especially Derek...who still scares me” Stiles says, trailing off.

It was class change. Everyone was in the hallways trying to grab their stuff from their lockers before the bell rings. Derek slowly makes his way down the hallway. One or two people bumped into him as they rushed to their classes. The wound still hadn’t healed and he was sweating like crazy. Trying desperately to stay focused. He had to find Scott.

Derek slumps against a corner to catch his breath. He tries to focus enough so he can listen for Scott. Chalk on a chalkboard, a girl skipping songs on her ipod, a lacrosse player on the phone with his dad. Derek keeps listening trying to find a voice. “Scott’s coming over?” He hears Lydia say. He focuses on that conversation.

“We’re just studying together” Allison says. “Just studying never ends with just studying. It’s like getting into a hot tub.” Lydia says, climbing the stairs with Allison. “So what are you saying?” Allison asks. I’m just saying you know, make sure he covers up” Lydia clarifies. Allison frowns. “Hello Snow White, get a condom” Lydia says.

Allison scoffs, “Are you kidding? After one date?” Lydia smiles at her, “Just give him a little taste.” Allison hugs her jacket chewing her lip. “How much is a little taste?” “God, you really like him don’t you?” Lydia says. “He’s just different” Allison says. “When I moved here I had a plan. No boyfriends till college. I just move too much. But, then I met him and..it was different.” Allison explains. “When’s he coming over?” Lydia asks. “Right after school-” The bell rings, piercing Derek’s ears painfully. He cringes until the ringing stops.

He takes a deep breath and pushes away from the wall. He had to get to Scott before he left for Allison’s. Out in the parking lot, Dani had pulled out and was leaving right as everyone was jumping in their cars. Stiles waves at her as she passes and climbs into his Jeep. He backs out of his space and pulls out. Derek steps in front of his Jeep and Stiles slams on the breaks, “Oh my God!”

Scott was unlocking his bike when a bunch of cars start honking. He looks up seeing a the line behind Stiles. “What?” he murmurs and then notices Derek. “No not here!” he says to himself before rushing over. Derek collapses when Scott reaches the Jeep. “You gotta be kidding me this guy’s everywhere” Stiles says and climbs out of his Jeep.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asks. Derek struggles to sit up. “I was shot” he breathes out. He was pale and getting weaker. “He’s not looking so good” Stiles says. “Why aren’t you healing?” Scott asks. “I can’t, it w- it was a different kind of bullet” Derek manages. “A silver bullet?” Stiles asks. “No, you idiot” Derek grumbles.

Scott realizes something. “That’s what she meant when she said you have 48 hours” he says. “What? Wh-who said I had 48 hours?” Derek asks. “The woman who shot you” Scott says. Derek’s eyes flash blue and he squeezes them shut in pain. They keep flashing from blue to normal for a moment. “What are you doing?! Stop that!” Scott says. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, I can’t” Derek says, his eyes blue.

“Derek, get up” Scott says. Derek was breathing in and out through gritted teeth. He groans as Scott helps him up. The line of cars was getting longer and there were a lot more people honking at them. “Help me get him in your car” Scott says. Scott and Stiles help Derek into the passenger seat. Stiles goes back and climbs in on his side.

“I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used” Derek says. “How the hell am I suppose to do that?” Scott asks. “She’s an Argent, she’s with them” Derek says. “Why should I help you?” Scott asks. “Because you need me” Derek says. “Fine, I’ll try” he says and closes the door. “Get him out of here” he says to Stiles. “I hate you for this so much” Stiles says.

Stiles drives down the road, aggravated as ever for being stuck with Derek while Scott gets to ‘study’. Derek was struggling to get his leather jacket off at the moment. He finally gets it off and leans back in the seat. He was even paler than earlier. Stiles gets a text back from Scott, ‘Need more time’. He tosses his phone down “Come on” he grumbles.

“Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats okay?” he says. “We’re almost there” he adds and focuses back on the road. Derek was slumped in the seat, trying to stay upright. “Almost where?” Derek murmurs. Stiles sighs, “Your house.” Derek lifts his head “What? No, you can’t take me there.” Stiles rolls his eyes and pulls over.

“What happens if Scott doesn’t find you’re magic bullet, huh?!” Stiles asks. “Are you dying?!” he asks. “I..I have a last resort” Derek says. “What do you mean?! What last resort?!” Stiles asks. Derek pulls up his sleeve revealing the wound. The bullet was still in his arm. “Oh my God, what is that?” Stiles says, leaning away. He glances at Derek’s arm again. “Ugh is that contagious?” he asks. “You know what? You should probably just get out.”

“Start the car...now” Derek says. “I don’t think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay?” Stiles says. “And in fact, If I wanted to, I could drag your little werewolf ass out in the middle of the road and leave you for dead.” Derek just looks at him. “Start the car or I’m gonna rip your throat out..with my teeth” he threatens. Stiles stares at him for a moment before facing forward and starting the car.

After Scott and Allison were caught in the garage, Mr. Argent has them help with the groceries. Scott walks up to the house with the last big brown bag. Mr. Argent reaches out, taking it from him, “Thank you.” He turns and cuts a look at his daughter. “You shou-” “I think she’ll concentrate better on her own” Mr. Argent interrupts.

There was a moment of silence as the tension get even more unbearable. “Um...guess I’ll see you later then?” Scott says. “At school” Mr. Argent says. Allison sighs, pursing her lips. “Oh come on, Chris. Really?” Kate says as she walks up. “They were making out in the garage not shooting amateur porn” She says.

Kate turns placing a hand on Scott’s shoulder, “You with the adorable brown eyes, drop your bike. You’re staying for dinner” She says. Kate walks up into the house. Allison smiles, following her in. Mr. Argent stands there for a moment and Scott doesn’t dare move. “You eat meat?” He asks Scott. Scott nods and carefully walks past Mr. Argent, into the house.

“What am I suppose to do with him?” Stiles asks. He was pulled over on the side of the road talking to Scott on the phone. “Take him somewhere, anywhere!” Scott says as he paces in the hallway. “And by the way, he’s starting to smell” Stiles says. “Like what?” Scott asks. “Like death!” Stiles answers.

“Okay, take him to the animal clinic” Scott says. “What about your boss?” Stiles asks. “He’s gone by now” Scott says. Stiles rubs his face “I can’t believe this” he says. “I gotta go, call my sister and figure something out” Scott says. “Fine” Stiles says and hangs up. He starts the car and calls Dani.

He pulls back onto the road and Dani answers. “Hey Stiles” She says. “Hey, I need you’re help” Stiles says. “What is it?” she asks. “Can you meet me at the animal clinic, like right now?” He asks. “What did you do..” She says. Stiles sighs. “Derek was shot last night by some magic bullet and he’s not healing and he looks like he’s dying.” Stiles explains, scrunching his nose from Derek’s ‘death’ smell.

“I’m getting in my car now, I’ll see you there” She says. “Where is Scott?” She asks. “He’s at the Argent’s house getting another one of the bullets. Apparently it’ll help.” Stiles says. “Okay” She says. Stiles chews his lip for a second. “How do you plan on helping?” He asks. “My mother is a nurse Stiles, she’s taught me a lot in case of an emergency situation” She says. Stiles nods, “Alright..I’ll see you there.” “Bye” Dani says and hangs up.

Dani pulls into the lot next to Stiles’ jeep. She hops out and rushes to the door, finding it unlocked. She enter the clinic, closing the door behind her. “Stiles?” She calls. “Back here!” He calls. She walks through the clinic to the back examination room where Stiles was pacing and Derek was just trying to stay standing.

“Thank God, I’ve been stuck with Mr. Sourwolf here all day” Stiles says, rubbing the back of his neck. Dani moves over to Derek so she can look at his arm. “We’re gonna need to get your shirt off so I can get a good look at what you’ve got going on” She says. He nods and flexes his jaw like he was suppressing something.

Dani manages to carefully get his shirt off and she moves back a step to look at his arm. The skin around the wound was bloodied and pursed around the bullet. He had visible veins that were bulged and purple running up his arm and around the wound. Dani guessed it was some supernatural infection which explains why he’s not healing. “You guys sure know how to make a Friday night exciting...”

Derek looks at her and she bites her lip. He was pouring sweat. He was all clammy and pale. Dani start looking around, grabbing what medical supplies she thought she’d need. “What are we gonna do till Scott gets here?” Stiles asks. “I’m going to try to clean the wound as best as I can and remove the bullet” She says. “You can do that?” Stiles asks.

“Yes, Stiles” she responds. Dani was starting to get overwhelmed. “How are you-” “Stiles,” She interrupts gently. “I need you to sit down over there and be quiet, can you do that for me?” she says. Stiles nods and does what she says. “Okay” she says and sets everything out on the metal table. “If the infection reaches my heart it’ll kill me” Derek says softly.

Dani’s eyes widen and she bites her lip. “If Scott doesn’t get here with the bullet on time...last resort” He says. “What last resort?” Dani asks. “His last resort is you cutting off his arm” Stiles says. A lump forms in Dani’s throat “Oh hell no.” Derek starts to waver a bit as he tries to glare at her. “Don’t give me that, Scott’s gonna get here in time and I’m going to pull this sucker out of your arm and let’s hope that does something, okay?” She says. Derek nods. “Okay” she says.

Dani pulls her hair back in a ponytail and washes her hands before starting anything. She pulls on some blue gloves and grabs a few wipes she’s seen her mom use to clean wounds with. She gently pulls on his wrist so his arm is under the light. She starts gently cleaning around the wound. Derek sucks in a sharp breath and presses his lips together as she wipes the blood away.

Dani tosses the wipes when she’s finished and takes a look at the bullet. “Now for the fun part” She breathes out, sarcastically. “Oh God” Stiles groans. “Stiles How bout you go sit up at the front desk and wait for Scott” Dani says. He nods and scrambles out of the room. Dani looks over Derek. He looked like hell. “The bullet is sitting right under the skin so this should be quick” She says.

“Do you want any kind of anesthesia?” Dani asks. “This is gonna hurt either way” she says. He shakes his head. “Let’s just...get this over with” he says. She nods and grabs the smaller scalpel. “Ready?” She asks. He nods and takes a deep breath. She makes a small incision right next to the bullet to open up the wound a little more. She sets the scalpel down, grabbing the angled tweezers. “This is gonna hurt” she warns.

Dani goes in with the tweezers gripping the sides of the bullet. Derek groans and squeezes his eyes shut as she pulls the bullet out. She drops the bullet into a little jar. She grabs a few gauze and presses them on the wound to stop the bleeding. Derek didn’t like that at all. He let out a suppressed wail and grits his teeth. “I know, I know” Dani says while he fusses about the pain.

He calmed down after a minute and was leaning against her slightly with his forehead resting against the top of her head. She didn’t say anything because she didn’t want him to fall. Plus he wasn’t doing the best at standing upright in the first place. “You okay?” She asks. “I’m fine” he breathes out. “Scott’s here!” Stiles yells from the front of the building. Dani relaxes a bit. “See? I told you he’d get here” Dani says.

Scott and Stiles rush into the examination room. From where they were standing it looked like they were kissing. “What the hell?!” Scott shouts. Dani pushes Derek upright and he groans, gripping the table for support. “Why are you yelling?” She asks. “I thought- it looked like you were..” Scott trails off. “Never mind” he says.

“Did you get it?” Derek asks. “Yeah” Scott says. He digs the bullet out of his pocket and hands it to Derek. Derek looks at the bullet for a moment before losing his balance and dropping the bullet. “No no no!” Scott panics and scrambles after the bullet. Derek collapses, taking Dani with him since he was holding onto her. Dani shrieks and lands on top of him.

“Derek?” Dani says softly. He was unconscious. “Oh God” she says. She sits on his stomach and gently grabs his face. “Derek come on wake up” she says patting his cheek. Dani starts to panic and it was evident in her voice. “Dani what’s wrong?” Stiles slides down next to her. “Oh God” he says seeing Derek. “He won’t wake up” She whimpers.

“Scott hurry up!” she shouts. “I’m trying!” He shouts back. The bullet had fallen into a small grate in the floor. His fingers weren’t long enough to reach the bullet. “Scott what the hell are we gonna do?” Stiles asks. “Just hold on, I almost got it!” Scott says. “Come on!” Dani panics as she holds Derek’s head. Scott squeezes his eyes shut. He feels the bullet with the tip of his finger. “Come on, come on” he whispers to himself. He wiggles his fingers a little more, grabbing the bullet.

“Please don’t kill me for this” Stiles says. He leans across Dani and punches Derek. “Ow, crap!” he grips his hand. Derek woke up and shot to his feet, dumping Dani into the floor with a yelp. Stiles helps her up and they move over to the table. Derek opens the bullet dumping its contents onto the metal table. He lights it with his lighter and the contents flares like a sparkler.

Derek takes Dani’s hand, holding it by the edge of the table. He wipes the contents of the bullet of the table in into her hand. He was breathing really funny and couldn’t talk so he gestures to the wound. Dani nods, “Okay..ready?” she asks. He takes in a breath and nods. She presses the contents into his wound and Derek wails in pain. A blue fume was coming out of the wound as Derek wails.

He yells in pain and collapses onto the floor again. A howl mixes into his yell that surprised everybody. He starts to heal and the infection along with the wound disappears. Derek lays there panting. “That was awesome!” Stiles says. Dani crouches down next to Derek. “Are you okay?” she asks softly. He nods, “Except for the agonizing pain.” Dani smiles and stands, helping him up.

“Okay we saved you’re life which means you’re gonna leave us alone, you got that?” Scott says. “If you don’t I’m gonna go back to Allison’s dad and tell him everything” Scott says. “You think they can help you? You’re gonna trust them?” Derek says. “Why not? They’re a lot freaking nicer than you are” Scott says. “They’re hunters Scott” Derek says.

Derek turns to Dani, “I don’t even know why you spend so much time with them. Or why you trust him when you know you could get you’re brother, me, and everybody killed.” Derek shakes his head, “What was that back at the gas station? He shows up and you turn into a perfect little daddy’s girl.” He hit a nerve. Dani’s eyes were full of tears and she pressed her lips together for a moment.

She held his gaze remaining silent. There were so many things she wanted to say. Things about her father who was out of the picture. Things about how father figures don’t exist in her world. Things about how Mr. Argent treats her like his own daughter at times and how she enjoys it. Things about missing that part of her life that was starting to feel like it never existed.

The room had been quiet for a while now. “Dani?..” Scott says softly. “Are you okay?” he asks. Stiles and Scott stay where they were, behind Derek. Derek’s gaze softens as he watches a tear slide down her cheek. She wipes it away and hugs her sides. She closes her eyes not wanting to look at him. She opens her mouth as she thinks of something that she can say to him. “I’m sorry..”

Dani sniffles grabbing her bag and leaving the examination room. “Wait” Derek says and the three of them follow her. She runs out of the building and out to her car. “Dani!” Scott calls as they get outside. She cranks her Nissan and looks at Derek before speeding out of the parking lot. “What did you do?” Stiles asks. “I’m not sure” Derek says.

In the Argent’s Living room, Chris was on the couch listening to Kate talk. “The one that attacked me it was big, he had width and power. But the one I shot was lean and fast” She says. “Well that would be Derek Hale” Chris says. “Are you sure?” Kate asks. “Mostly” Chris says. “Well how do we know it’s just the two of them?” Kate asks. “We don’t, yet” Chris says.

“But if Derek’s still alive he can lead us to the alpha” Chris says. “Take the pack leader, we take the pack” Kate says and smiles. “We do it according to the code” Chris points out. “Of course” Kate starts the fire in the fireplace. “I always play by the rules” Kate says.

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thepandapopo · 6 years

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY IGGY ❤️

Here's a happier drabble for dear Iggy's birthday.

Pairing: reader x Ignis

Warnings: none

----

The low hum of your phone vibrating roused you from your slumber. Outside the sheer white curtains of your shared room with Ignis, the sky was still dark and the horizon just barely warming up with the glow of sunrise. Sparing a quick glance to the clock on your phone, you blearily turned off the alarm.

Come on. Get up. You can sleep in every other day, but you cannot do that today.

Mentally, you let out a long groan of agony. The urge to stuff your face into your warm pillow was overwhelming, but you did not dare move in fear of waking up your slumbering boyfriend asleep beside you.

On a regular day, you wouldn't even be awake until 8am earliest. The fact that you had specifically set an alarm to wake you up at 5am was a testament to how much you loved the man snoring quietly with his arm draped loosely around your waist.

You had everything planned out today; it was after all, Ignis' birthday. A day, in your opinion, should have been classified as a goddamn holiday because of how much the advisor did to keep the city running smoothly.

Gingerly removing Ignis' arm from your body, you slowly inched your way off the bed, praying to Shiva that he wouldn't wake up. Years on the road fighting daemons had made Ignis an incredibly light sleeper, and when you two had first moved in together, he would often wake up multiple times throughout the night from your restless tossing and turning. Thankfully, you two had decided shortly after to buy a new mattress that boasted minimal movement transfer so as to reduce the shifting your poor boyfriend had to endure everytime you rolled over.

You let out a quiet huff of triumph as you felt your toes touch the floor, only for it to turn into a hiss when you realized how cold it was.

Suck it up, buttercup. You chided yourself, tip toeing to the door to grab your fluffy robe.

With practiced ease, you made your way down the hallway into the kitchen, avoiding all the squeaky spots on the floor.

It always amazed you how spotless Ignis managed to keep the kitchen area, the white marble countertops polished to a shine, the appliances neatly tucked away in their spots underneath the cabinets, the only item out in the open permanently was the coffee maker that Noct had gifted you for your housewarming.

Fishing out the limit edition chocolate hazelnut Ebony that you had hidden behind the cup ramen ( you knew Iggy would never look there because he didn't care for the stuff and you were the only one who kept that cabinet stocked), you dumped some into the machine, poured some water in, and pushed the magic button.

Honestly, you thought to yourself as you grabbed ingredients out of the fridge for the elaborate breakfast you were preparing for Ignis, you hadn't ever had that flavor of Ebony before, but you had heard Ignis speaking about it one day when you were having a date at a local coffee shop and he saw a sign for it.

That was years ago, back when you had first started 'officially' seeing the man, and it wasn't until now that you managed to get a hold of a bag.

You had found it when you took a hunt assignment all the way out in Lestallum - there was a ferocious pack of coeurls that had been terrorizing the local hunters who were unable to deal with them. Thus, as one of the top ranked hunters of Eos, and a frequent visitor of the city, they had sent in a personal request for you to come help them.

To say Ignis had been reluctant to have you travel alone, much less perform the hunt alone, was an understatement. You two had always hunted together and watched each other's backs. Without him out there with you, there was no telling what terrible fate could befall you. Of course, you had merely laughed and gently reminded Ignis that there was a time before him that you hunted alone. Heck, when you had first landed in this universe with no idea where you were or what kind of monsters there were, you still managed to survive on your own until Cor found you and brought you to Lunafreya (whom you later learned was the one who summoned you there to begin with).

And so you went on this week long journey with nothing more than your age worn travel bag and a kiss goodbye from a pouting tactician. As much as you would have liked it to be like the good old days with Ignis driving you and the boys around in the regalia, this time you had to commandeer the wheel yourself; hence, you had decided to take your motorcycle as it allowed for quick travel and was great on fuel.

When you finally arrived, you were quite pleased when the job took you only a single afternoon, leaving you with three more days of paid accomodation. It wasn't often that you found yourself with free time, so you took it eagerly and set about getting some shopping done. By some stroke of luck, you were passing by a simple street stand when you paused to browse the goods when an unassuming black and silver package caught your attention. You did a double take when you read the label and promptly had a mini internal freak out. Ignis would totally flip if he saw this limited edition chocolate hazelnut Ebony flavor!

When you asked the shopkeep how much it was, you balked at the price - it was basically all the money you had earned from the hunt and a little more; but just the thought of how happy it would make Ignis was enough for you to bite your tongue and hand over the Gil. Thus, leaving you with the best birthday present ever.

The coffee machine let out a single beep signalling that the delicious elixir of life was ready. Quickly wiping your hands on a nearby tea towel, you stepped away from the stove where a pan was sizzling with a breakfast omelette, and pulled out two matching cups from a nearby rack.

Golden sunlight began filtering in through the windows as the sun slowly climbed up the horizon. You paused and put the coffee pot down after you finished pouring the two cups and just let yourself absorb the beautiful silence of the morning.

So absorbed in your thoughts, you didn't notice the soft padding of larger feet coming down the hall. You jumped when strong, lean arms wound themselves around your waist before relaxing again when Ignis buried his nose in your hair, letting out a sleepy hum of content.

"Darling, what are you doing up so early?" Iggy's warm, husky breath danced along the left side of your neck and you felt electric tingles of pleasure dance on your skin.

Twisting around and tangling your hands into dirty blonde hair, you tugged until you felt soft, pliant lips against your own. Never one to turn down a kiss from his beloved, Ignis pulled your body closer to his until you couldn't tell where you began and he ended.

"Mmmm... Just making some breakfast for the birthday boy." You grinned when you pulled away from the kiss for some well needed air (it was seriously not fair how even after all these years, Iggy could still take your breath away with one simple kiss). Waddling back over to the stove with Ignis still attached to you, you quickly turned off the burner and dished up the vegetable omelette with some sausage on the side.

"You didn't have to do all this for me, my love."

"Yes, but I want to." Handing him his cup of Ebony, you brought the plates to the modest glass dining table and waited for Ignis to sit down.

Shuffling slowly over to the opposite side, you couldn't help but smile inwardly at how adorable Ignis was in the mornings.

Disheveled hair and glasses hanging askew on his nose, the ever prim and proper Ignis Scientia was a sight to behold in the mornings when he allowed himself to simply be. Rumpled dark blue pajamas hung loosely on his frame, yet still accentuating his toned figure. The tiny peek of chiseled abs above his waistband when Ignis gave a long overhead stretch was enough to have you licking your lips and wondering if you could have an alternative meal.

Still though, you worked hard on this breakfast and you wanted to see Iggy's reaction when he finally realized that he wasn't holding his regular Ebony.

Both of you took your coffee black so there was nothing stopping you from bringing your cup up to your lips, hoping that your boyfriend would mimic you.

Already, you could smell the distinct notes of sweetness that distinguished this flavor from the regular bean. Your eyes glued on the man sitting across from you, you watched him eagerly as he raised the porcelain cup to his lips, only to freeze as soon as his bottom lip touched the rim.

"What...?" You almost giggled at the perplexed look adorning his usually stern features.

Brilliant green eyes darted up to yours which were crinkled with mirth, then back down to the black steaming liquid, putting two and two together.

You always loved watching Ignis think. You likened it to watching all the gears in a watch, only after all this time, you learned that Iggy's told a lot more than just time. The small quirk of the lips indicated amusement, while the furrowing of eyebrows often indicated deep thought.

Right now, however, the slack jawed blank expression practically screamed disbelief.

You laughed and flashed the handsome bastard a smug grin when you saw him finally come to the answer.

"Yup."

"No."

"I assure you, sweetheart, it definitely is what you think it is."

Ignis gaped at you, "but how? This limited edition flavor was sold out months ago. The probability of actually finding a bag after this long is virtually impossible, not to mention incredibly tediuous."

"Clearly not, seeing as I have a bag just over there that I opened and used to brew a pot."

Ignis continued to stare at you like you had just sprouted a second head, when suddenly, he stood up and made his way around the table faster than you could blink.

"Iggy, what -!"

Your question was muffled by an insistent lips on your own.

Allowing yourself to melt into his embrace, you wrapped your arms around his neck and hummed happily.

"Have I told you lately," Ignis panted as he withdrew slightly, his lips still ghosting over your own, "how much I love you?"

Hoisting you up effortlessly into his arms, you let out a undignified squeak at the rapid change in position. Regaining your composure, you nipped his ear playfully and chuckled when the chest below you rumbled with a low growl.

"You could stand to say it a bit more..." Your laughter cut off with a shriek when you felt a hand connect with your posterior.

"Naughty kitten. I suppose I shall just have to show you for now then."

Without any fanfare, Ignis began marching back to your room with you in tow.

"Wait! What about breakfast?" You gasped as he trailed open mouth kisses down your neck.

Against your sensitive skin, you felt his lips curl up into a smirk.

"I believe that I'll be having something else on the menu this morning."

----

Eep! Hope you all liked it! Finished with just one minute to spare in the day :P

#ignis x reader #ignis scientia x reader #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv #fanfiction #alternate universe #fluffy #ignis birthday

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bunysliper · 7 years

Text

Castle Ficlet: A Persuasive Argument 1/1

A Persuasive Argument

A Reference Material Universe ficlet

This is ridiculous. He's being ridiculous.

She hasn't seen her boyfriend in almost a week, not since a date that had ended in him walking her back to her dorm, hiding his face in his sleeve to sneeze half a dozen times, and frankly the separation is getting a little old.

Fine, he has a head cold. He feels crummy, she gets it. Colds suck; they take days to build up, and then they linger for maximum misery. But he's decided to hide in his apartment and wallow instead of taking some Dayquil and getting on with things. Like coming to class or seeing her.

And all of it with the explanation of "Well I don't want to get you sick, too, Kate."

Her boyfriend is an idiot. He's sweet to think of her and put her health above his like that, but he's still an idiot.

Of course she doesn't want him to get her sick, but wouldn't letting her help make it easier for him to get well faster? She can cook, but he won't even let her come over to make him soup. She could rub his head and pamper him just a little bit, the way he always pampers her. But no. No, he's suffering in silence, save for the occasional text to let her know he's at least still breathing.

Well, enough of that.

She waits to text him until she's outside his building, wanting to see if he'll let her up or if she's going to need to stoop to using the big guns: asking someone else to let her in and sneaking to his door.

How're you feeling?

His reply comes less than a minute later, and she imagines him sprawled on his couch, his feet sticking out from under the throw blanket she'd fished out of his linen closet soon after they'd started dating.

Like crap. Miss you and the ability to breathe through my nose. In exactly that order, I swear.

Her lips turn up. Well, at least he's once again capable of joking. The first day or two he'd been too miserable to even attempt humor.

Miss you too, babe. Can I get you anything? Your homework from the last few days? Food? 'Get well' sex? Gatorade?

Okay, it isn't exactly subtle, but screw it. She wants to help. And if she has to write a persuasive essay to convince him she's not worried about getting sick, then so be it. Because it's not even about sex, as much as she misses that, it's about how her chest has tightened in his absence, how her body misses the press of his at night, how her day isn't complete without him.

She's even prepared to watch some of his stupid movies if he would just quit being so damn stubborn.

Homework's been emailed in, doing okay on food and supplies, and god yes, but you'd probably never want to sleep with me again after this.

Kate rolls her eyes; Rick has his mother's flair for drama, and it's only been amplified with his illness.

Let me be the judge of that, will you?

When no response comes, she types out another message, tapping her foot against the sidewalk while she waits for the door to unlock for her.

Finally, the damn lock clicks and she's able to slip into Rick's building.

He greets her at his door with a red nose and bloodshot eyes, looking every bit as pitiful as she'd been imagining, but he doesn't shy away from the kiss she presses to his cheek.

"Hi," she says, dropping her bag in the entryway and crowding his chest to hug him. His arms band tightly around her, his body sagging, but she doesn't let him go. "Missed you."

With her ear against his chest, she doesn't hear any signs of wheezing when he speaks, which comforts her; it is just a head cold, not something worse like bronchitis.

"Missed you too, Kate," he rumbles.

Lifting her head, she brushes a hand through his hair, smoothing the shiny strands off his forehead. "Why don't you go take a shower and I'll make some dinner?"

"Telling me I smell?" he jokes, feigning shock when her face twists into a grimace.

"You are a little ripe," she admits, thumbing the growth of his beard. He has smelled worse, but she has no doubt that he'll feel better without the layer of oil and the sharp tang of sweat clinging to his skin. "Besides, the hot water will work wonders for the aches, and the steam could help clear your sinuses. Go."

Apparently deciding it's not worth arguing about, he nods after a moment, giving her a gentle squeeze. "I won't be long."

Kate shakes her head. "Take your time. I'll be here."

She watches him go before grabbing her bag and taking in the state of his apartment.

Usually immaculate, the place is in disarray, demonstrating exactly how under the weather he's been. Kate decides to tidy the kitchen first, since she'll need some of the counter space to make their dinner, and once she gets the food going, she'll straighten the rest of the place.

Rick emerges from the bedroom as she's putting the finishing touches on the living room. He looks refreshed, his eyes less clouded, and she blows him a kiss when he gapes at his space.

"Kate, you didn't need to do this," he says, shaking his head. "I didn't expect you to come over and be my maid."

"I know." One of her shoulders lifts. "But I'm here and I could. I know you would do it for me if it were the other way around."

She takes the garbage bag back into the kitchen, washing her hands and checking on their dinner. Rick trails her after another astounded look around, crowding her back at the stove, his arms curling around her waist. He inhales, pressing his mouth to her cheek.

"This is the first thing I've been able to smell since last week. And it is amazing."

"Me or dinner?" she asks, bemused.

"As wonderful as I'm sure you smell, it's definitely dinner this time."

A thrill rolls down her spine. She'd called her mom to get the recipe, deciding to forgo the typical 'remedy' of chicken soup, and now she's glad she had.

"Good. Hopefully you'll be able to taste it, too."

Rick squeezes her, humming in agreement. "Well it looks like it tastes great."

She laughs, palming his now-smooth cheek. "Hopefully it'll live up to the looks. It's my Nonna's recipe. She swore angel hair pasta and spicy sausage cream sauce was better, that it would burn away the cold instead of politely asking it to leave the way chicken noodle does."

He laughs, twisting away to hide his cough in his shoulder.

"I like the sound of that," he says on a groan, making her heart thump with sympathy.

"Me too," she murmurs, tapping the stirring spoon against the edge of the pan and setting it aside. "Come on," she adds, taking his hand and leading him to the other room, "you need to sit so you don't use up all your energy and pass out in your dinner."

Judging by the way he sags as soon as his back hits the couch cushions, he agrees wholeheartedly.

"I love you," he exhales, dropping his head back, allowing her to fuss over him with gentle hands. "And I'm sorry about this week. Didn't mean to disappear on you, just didn't want to get you sick."

Her fingers slide over his forehead, noting with gratitude that he's not warm. She drops a kiss on his lips, coming back for a second peck a moment later.

"I know," she says, pulling away when the timer on the microwave beeps. "I love you, too. And I was serious about that 'get well' sex, you know. The healing power of touch and all."

He laughs, catching her hand. "I was too, but I want you to still be attracted to me once I'm well. There's nothing sexy about a runny nose and coughing fits, especially when they occur mid-coitus."

She squeezes his fingers. There's very little he could do to dampen her attraction to him, even if that mental image does leave a little to be desired.

"So let's see what your Nonna's magic cure can do," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows. "Because the soul is game, Kate. The soul is so game, it's just the pesky body that's the problem."

"Be kind to your body, Rick," she teases over her shoulder. "I'm kind of fond of it."

He offers her a grin instead of commenting.

Despite the talk of 'get well' sex, they stretch out on the couch together after dinner, allowing their full bellies to dictate how lazy they're going to be. As she starts the movie - one of his favorites, no less - Rick's head lands on her chest, his breath warm through her shirt.

"Thank you for this," he rumbles, practically melting into her. Her lips press to his hair, her fingers sweeping along the tops of his shoulders, down his back. "For all of this."

"You would do the same for me," she murmurs.

He nods, blinking away sleepiness. "Of course I would."

"Then never doubt that I'll do it again," Kate insists. "And I'm not going to let you put me off for a week and stand outside poking you via phone, either."

Her boyfriend smiles against her chest. "No persuasive essays next time?" he asks, teasing her about her last text before he'd buzzed her up.

"As hot as I know that gets you," she says, lifting an eyebrow and her lips. "Nope. Just me. And Nonna's recipe."

"Hmm," he starts, pretending to think. "I can live with that."

Her fingers slip into his hair, pressing gentle circles against his scalp.

"Good choice, babe. Now rest," she commands softly.

He falls asleep before the movie is even half-over, leaving her to hold him and listen to him breathe until the pull of slumber is too hard for her to ignore.

This was (loosely) based on the prompt: “TFLN: (978): Would you like me to write a persuasive essay on how you should let me suck your dick?” and I want to say @i-prefer-west-side, @allylobster, and @whatifellinlovewith are to thank for this one. :)

#Castle Fanfic #Castle Fanfiction #Caskett Fanfic #Caskett #Reference Material Verse #my fanfic #Prompt Responses #Castle AU Fic #College AU #Reference Material Verse SFW

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yukinokoe · 7 years

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Like the River Flows (McHanzo)

Click to Read on Ao3!

Summary: Unable to sleep on a quiet night at the Watchpoint, Hanzo goes out to train. But on his way there, he hears someone singing along to an old love song.

Partially inspired by the prompts for Day 1 (Day || Night) and Day 3 (Undercover || Downtime) of McHanzo Week, but also inspired by Elvis music because I am a sucker for classic love songs.

During missions, the Watchpoint was fairly quiet. Two teams were currently dispatched, leaving less than half of the newly formed Overwatch at the main base. Hanzo padded through the base, his hands stuffed in the pockets of an oversized black hoodie. He hadn’t been able to sleep tonight: perhaps a result of the eerie silence that filled the Watchpoint now that Lucio and Hana weren’t there to fill the halls with the sound of music and gaming. Those once annoying sounds had become white noise over time to the point of being somewhat comforting.

He considered getting in some training since target practice would at least give him something to do if he couldn’t sleep. The reunion with his brother had been difficult on him, and practicing with his bow tended to be good stress relief. But as he padded through the hall on his way to the exit, he heard the soft sound of unfamiliar music. There were two voices: one filtered as if played through a very old device, and one clear and honeyed, sung by a smooth baritone. Curious, Hanzo crept closer to the source of the music. He could see a light coming from the kitchen, and the sound seemed to grow louder. Hanzo reached towards the bow at his back before moving to peek into the room.

Even though his back faced the entrance, Hanzo could recognize the bulky form of Jesse McCree. He wasn’t wearing his signature hat, but he was wearing a flannel shirt over a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair was pulled back into a knobby ponytail at the nape of his neck, and he swayed slightly with the music. Hanzo suspected he was cooking something in a pan with a spatula based on the soft scraping and sizzling noises masked by the cowboy’s singing. Hanzo dropped the arm that was reaching for his bow and listened, leaning casually against the wall that opened up into the kitchen.

McCree continued to sing, unaware of his visitor. At one point in the song, he messed up the words but recovered quickly with a slight chuckle to himself. Hanzo simply watched and listened, feeling strangely comforted by this scene. The song, although clearly very old based on the imperfect audio recording, was beautiful and unlike anything he had heard before. But McCree sang it so much better. His hips swayed slightly back and forth as if he were dancing with an invisible partner. It was far different from what he had expected from the cowboy: no western twang or nonsensical country lyrics. The song seemed to be about being in love in its purest form.

When the song wound to a close, Hanzo cleared his throat to signal his presence. McCree jumped slightly at the noise, his hand twitching towards his hip as he spun around. The gunslinger sighed in relief when he spotted Hanzo leaning against the entrance, and stopped the music. “Jesus, Hanzo. Nearly gave me a heart attack. What’re you doing up so late?”

“I could not sleep,” Hanzo responded. “I was going to do a bit of training when I heard a noise in here. Why are you awake at this hour, McCree?”

McCree let out a small laugh. He turned back to turn off the stove, setting down his spatula. “Reckon we’re in the same boat. I couldn’t sleep either. Decided to make myself something to eat. Want some eggs? I made plenty.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Hanzo started. McCree took that as a yes, however, and filled two plates with scrambled eggs with sausage and cheese. He placed both plates on the small kitchen table and gestured to Hanzo to join him. The archer sighed and relented, placing his bow on the table and sitting down in front of the second plate. “Were you planning to eat all of this alone?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the size of the two portions.

“Maybe I knew someone would come along to join me tonight,” McCree drawled coyly, taking a large bite of the eggs. He swallowed gracelessly and looked off towards the now empty pan. “Or maybe I grossly underestimated how much I had made. Pick your poison.”

Hanzo breathed out a laugh, taking a bite from his own plate. “This is surprisingly good,” Hanzo responded, following up with another bite.

“Surprisingly? Gee, thanks,” McCree responded sarcastically. “Can’t say it’s that easy to screw up scrambled eggs though.”

“The green peppers are a nice touch,” Hanzo reassured.

“You’re being awful generous with your compliments today,” McCree smiled, scooping a large bite of eggs onto his fork. “It’s a bit weird, but can’t say I mind it. What’s the occasion for such kindness from the stone-cold Shimada?”

“Perhaps it’s sleep deprivation,” Hanzo responded between bites.

“Probably,” McCree responded, his mouth stuffed with food. He swallowed, setting his fork down and leaning forward towards Hanzo with his elbows perched on the table. “So, why’d you come to the kitchen anyway if you were gonna go to the practice range? This ain’t exactly on the way there.”

Hanzo swallowed his own bite before answering, “I heard a couple voices. You were singing quite loudly.”

“That loud, huh?” McCree laughed, running his non-metallic hand through the hair that wasn’t pulled back. “What’d ya think? Did I do The King justice?”

Hanzo wrinkled his nose at McCree’s statement. “The King?”

McCree laughed, tilting backwards and lifting the front two chair legs off the ground. “You’ve never heard of The King? Elvis Presley? He’s a real old singer. Over 100 years old! They called him the King of Rock back in his day. Can’t say he’s my favorite singer, but he’s got a coupla good love songs.”

Hanzo nodded, returning to his eggs. He held his fork but didn’t eat, instead letting the music he had heard before replay in his head. The soft crackle of the recording, the heartfelt lyrics that he could only sparsely remember, the smooth sound of McCree’s voice…

“Can you play another song by this Elvis Presley?”

McCree laughed, a deep, rich laugh that filled the space. “Sure thing. I think I have just the one. But on one condition.”

“What is that?” Hanzo asked, a sharp, dark eyebrow arching upward.

McCree pushed himself up out of his chair and extended his hand to Hanzo, “Share a dance with me?”

Hanzo looked at the hand, then back at McCree’s face. Hanzo wasn’t sure what to think of the request. McCree didn’t seem to be using it as a joke. He almost looked flustered despite his regular oozing confidence.

It might have been the promise of more music or Hanzo’s untapped tiredness. Or maybe even the way McCree stood expectantly with dark, messy hair framing his unusually sheepish face. But Hanzo reached out his arm to take McCree’s hand, softly responding, “Very well, cowboy.”

McCree flashed a confident smile and helped Hanzo situate his hands before reaching over to start the music from his phone. When the piano started playing, McCree started moving with Hanzo. It wasn’t exactly dancing so much as slow swaying. Hanzo listened intently to the song and let McCree lead his movements. They hardly moved their feet, instead swaying in the small open space between the table and the stove. To Hanzo, the song was about love despite barriers. Their eyes were locked together, unwavering even as McCree sang along to the chorus under his breath: a whispered declaration that only Hanzo could hear.

The song ended much sooner than Hanzo was expecting. They practically stopped mid-sway, hands still clasped together. They looked at each other, not wavering even though the room was now quiet.

Then, they moved.

Hanzo’s hands found McCree’s face while McCree’s hands tangled into Hanzo’s hair. Their lips crashed together recklessly, without any regard for technique. There was only insatiable hunger for just that fleeting moment before they broke apart, breathing heavily against each other. Hanzo leaned forward, resting his head against McCree’s chest before whispering, “Do you have any more songs like these?”

“Yeah, darlin,” McCree whispered back, letting his hands slide down to Hanzo’s face. He cupped the archer’s cheeks and pulled him in for a soft, gentle kiss. “Dozens.”

Hanzo smiled genuinely, pushing strands of hair out of McCree’s eyes. “Good thing we have all night then.”

The song Jesse sings at the beginning is "Love Me Tender", and the song they danced to is "I Can't Help Falling in Love".

#mchanzo #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada #mchanzo week 2017 #overwatch #my work #fanfiction

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catie-and-alle · 7 years

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Aestival Ch. 1

Chapter One of “Aestival” is now uploaded!

Author: QueenofStarlight Category: AU

adj. pertaining to, relating, designating, or of summer.

Ever since the day Keith mysteriously appeared in the small backwater town the Holts called home, he's been a part of their small mismatched family. One summer, out at the Holts' summer home, Keith, Pidge, and Shiro come across a shooting star that turns out to be something much more- an alien ship. From there begins a string of events that uproots everything Keith thinks he knows about himself.

“Shit, mom’s gonna be so mad at us!”

Shiro nods in agreement with Matt’s frantic statement. They’re late, very late, and while Colleen is an incredibly kind and civil woman, she can be downright terrifying when pissed off. The street lamps, so dimly lit, are the only things to guide their way as the two pedal hurriedly on their bikes. The clouds are obscuring any moonlight that could be seen on a night such as this, and Shiro guesses it must be past nine by now. Their curfew it at eight. He pedals faster.

The moon is just starting to peek out from behind the clouds when Matt yelps, veering off the road and into a shallow ditch, letting out a string of curses that Shiro’s sure he’d get smacked for if he said them at home. “Why’d you veer off? Did you hit a pothole or something?” He asks, skidding to a stop near his friend. Matt climbs up from out of the ditch, abandoning his bike, and points toward a vaguely human-shaped lump in the street. “I was avoiding that!” Shiro gets off his bike and lays it down on the ground, taking a few steps toward the lump. “Matt, it’s a little kid.”

“Why the heck is there a little kid just lying in the middle of the road? Did they get hit by a car?! Are they dead?!” Matt questions, obviously panicking. Shiro kneels down next to the kid, a small boy with a bird’s nest of fluffy hair, and confirms that he’s still breathing. “He’s not dead you idiot. He probably just got lost and passed out from exhaustion.” Matt calms down slightly, hurrying to Shiro’s side and adjusting his glasses from where they’d been thrown off-center from his crash. “So, what do we do with him?” Shiro puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder, gently shaking him.

The boy blinks his eyes open and starts, scooting away from Shiro and Matt the second he’s all the way awake, pulling his knees to his chest and glaring at them. Shiro notices the bruises and scratches covering the boys legs and face, a few with dried blood sticking to them. “Hey, are you lost? We can try and take you home if you want.” Shiro asks, inching the smallest bit closer. The boy doesn’t move from his spot, and doesn’t say anything. “Can you tell us your name at least?”

“Keef.” He says after a moment’s hesitation, his voice quiet and warbled, as if his English wasn’t his first language. “Keith, huh? I’m Shiro, and that guy’s Matt. Can you tell us your last name?”

Shiro sighs when Keith shakes his head violently from side to side, his hair poofing up even more with the movement. “I don’t remember.” He says. Matt makes a noise of disbelief. “You don’t remember your last name?” He says, tone not as calm or level as it could have been. The boy shakes his head again, and Shiro sighs. “Shit, kid.” Matt nudges him in the arm for swearing and Shiro resists the urge to smack him back for being a hypocrite. “Well, do you wanna come home with us? Our mom can help you. Plus we’re late, we need to go home.”

A full thirty seconds passes in silence, during which time Matt lets out a frustrated groan and goes to drag his bike out from the ditch. “You can’t just stay here in the middle of the road, kid. It’s not safe. There’s coyotes out here, and it’s probably gonna rain. Just come with us.” Shiro pleads, knowing it won’t be long before they have to simply give up on the kid and go home. The boy fidgets nervously, presumably pondering his options, until he finally stands up, latching one of his hands onto Shiro’s sleeve. “Okay.” Matt and Shiro both relax, relieved.

The journey back to Matt’s house takes ten minutes longer since they have to ride slower with Keith clinging to Shiro’s shoulders, and they’re already anticipating their scolding when they park their bikes against the side of the porch. Colleen Holt reacts immediately when they step through the front door, demanding to know why they’d been so incredibly late getting home, but the tense tone of her voice fades away when she catches notice of Keith standing behind them, tiny and looking like he was about to fall asleep again at any moment. “Boys, who is this?”

“His name is Keith, mom. We found him sleeping in the middle of the road.” “Matt almost ran him over.” Shiro points out, earning a glare from his friend. “Shut up! It was dark!” “Boys.” They both fall silent, and Colleen crouches down next to Keith with a gentle smile. “Hello, Keith. My name is Colleen. Are you hungry or thirsty?” Keith shakes his head, and Colleen nods in recognition. “Do you want to get some sleep? You look very tired.” At that, Keith yawns, that being the only thing Colleen needs as confirmation. “Takashi, go ahead and take him upstairs. He can sleep in Katie’s room, she’s passed out in the living room and likely won’t wake up again until morning.”

Shiro leads Keith up the stairs to Katie’s bedroom, Keith collapsing onto her toddler bed with a tired sigh and passing out almost instantly, leaving Shiro to carefully nudge him into place under the covers. When he gets back downstairs, Colleen is talking quietly into the phone, Sam at her side flipping through the phone book, Matt in the living room poking at two-year-old Katie’s sleeping form with a grin on his face. Katie doesn’t react to her brother at all, out cold. “How can a toddler sleep so well? She’s like a rock!” “Yeah, well, with a brother like you, maybe she does it so she doesn’t wake up every time you come in making a ruckus.” “Oh shut up Shiro.”

They stayed there for another ten minutes, patiently waiting while Colleen and Sam called person after person, only half picking up so late in the evening. As it turned out, no one in town knew who Keith was, even when they called the Sheriff's station if there were any children missing nearby. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to let Keith stay here until we figure it out. Go to bed boys.”

That night, Shiro finds him awake even hours after they’d all gone to sleep. He wonders where Keith came from, why he can’t remember his last name - though it could simply be that he was too young to even know it. Shiro wonders how Keith got beat up so bad, why he looked like he hadn’t bathed in a week or more, why he showed up so mysteriously in their tiny backwater town where nothing out of the ordinary ever happened. The questions were never-ending, and Shiro let out a sigh, telling himself to wait ‘till morning to try and answer any of them.

When morning does come, Shiro wakes up uncharacteristically early for a Sunday, not waiting to shake Matt into consciousness before he’s tiptoeing down the hall to Katie’s room. He inches the door open as silently as possible, only to find the bed an empty mess of tangled blankets. Shiro heads downstairs, following the newer smells of bacon and herbs, and finds Keith in the living room, sprawled out on his stomach and flipping through a picture book with Katie. His hair is no longer a greasy mess, and his wounds have been patched up with Spiderman-themed bandaids, so Shiro assumes he’s gotten a bath from Colleen.

As he steps into the kitchen, he’s greeted by a glass of milk that is more or less thrusted into his hands as Colleen maneuvers around him toward the fridge, pulling out a cucumber and a few other vegetables before shuffling back over to the stove to flip the eggs. She smiles sweetly to him as she passes and Shiro mumbles a “good morning” from behind the mouth of his glass. Once he’s finished drinking nearly half, he moves out of her way and takes a seat at the dining table, watching Keith and Katie interact. “Did he tell you anything else about himself?”

Colleen sighs, stirring a couple sausage links around in a pan. “Unfortunately, no. He doesn’t remember his surname, or the names of his parents, or if he has any family at all. I think he may have amnesia. He doesn’t recognize the name of our town, or the U.S. The only thing he could tell me was his name, and I honestly wonder if he’s even pronouncing it right.” She says, passing Sam a plate of eggs cooked sunny-side-up as he walks in, kissing her on the cheek and quickly moving out of her way to sit across from Shiro. “Anyhow, we’re going to take him up to the ranger station just out of town and have a talk with the state troopers. Perhaps they’ll know something.”

Shiro and Sam remain quiet for a while, leaving Colleen to her cooking. Shiro reads the back of Sam’s newspaper for a few moments before his gaze finds its way back to Keith and Katie, and he leans his head on his hands as he watches them.

Katie is giggling, her small hands nestled deeply into Keith’s bushy hair as she kneads it with her fingers much in the same way a cat would knead a blanket, their picture book now abandoned in favor of other fun. Keith leans into Katie’s hands with a smile, and Shiro assumes she must’ve been holding his hair uncharacteristically gently for him to be enjoying the action. Sam follows his gaze and grins. “They’ve been like that ever since we woke up this morning. It seems Keith has a way with Katie that neither of you boys happen to have. She likes him.” He says, making Shiro frown at the suggestion that Katie liked Keith more than him, even though it might’ve been true.

“Whatever. She’s too little to understand that yanking people’s hair and biting them when they try to hold her isn’t a good way to make friends.” Sam laughs at that, and Shiro sulks a little more.

It isn’t much longer before breakfast is officially ready and Colleen is shouting up the stairs for Matt to get out of bed. Shiro watches his surrogate mom head into the living room, Keith’s smile fading away as she approaches and Katie refusing to let go of Keith’s hair when Colleen tries to pick her up. Keith ends up carrying her to the dining room all on his own, letting her sit on his lap as Colleen takes the seat beside him in an attempt to get Katie to eat. Matt comes rushing down the stairs only moments later and the rapidfire chaos of having three boys and a cranky two year old at the same table ignites, reducing the previous peace and quiet to merely a daydream.

An hour later, everyone’s piling into the Holts’ stationwagon, Sam wrestling Katie into her car seat while Matt complains about being tired, getting a motherly staredown for the complaint and an offhand comment about how he has no right to complain about exhaustion considering how far past curfew they’d come home the night before- nearly three hours past.

Matt snaps his mouth shut at that and Shiro seizes the moment. “Get rekt.” They shove each other back and forth a bit before Colleen pushes their heads apart and nudges them both toward the car. Matt and Shiro slide into the farthest seat back and Shiro watches as Keith fiddles with his seatbelt confusedly. “Here, you use it like this.” Shiro says, buckling the strap around Keith’s tiny frame and grinning at how positively curious Keith’s expression is, his hands poking at the buckle. Once he figures out how to unbuckle it, he spends a good minute simply buckling and unbuckling the seatbelt, only stopping when Sam dutifully explains why he needs to keep it on.

As they finally get everyone buckled in and settled down - Katie making it the most difficult action known to man - the car started moving, and they slowly maneuvered their way out of their small neighborhood and through the town. Keith watched out the window with wide eyes as the houses were steadily replaced with the diner, mail center, the police station, and eventually bled out into long lines of trees and a faraway view of the river that cut around it all. Keith watched as if he’d never seen such buildings before in his life, and Shiro watched him with a smile.

The drive to the State Patrol Department was a long one, and hardly fifteen minutes passed before Katie started to get bored and fussy, grumbling in her indecipherable toddler language. Keith ended up satiating her frustrations by scooting into the seat closer to her when they came to the next stoplight, letting the two-year-old latch her fingers onto his hair like that morning when Shiro had come downstairs. After that, it was uncharacteristically peaceful, with only Matt and Shiro’s offhand chatter and Sam and Colleen’s quiet discussion about the state patrol to cut through the otherwise silent car ride.

When they do finally arrive, Katie and Keith are asleep, Katie’s fingers still tangled in Keith’s hair. “Keith, sweetie, we’re here.” Colleen says, nudging him awake. Keith blinks sleepily and yawns, the movement waking Katie, who starts to grumble and fuss. Shiro and Matt lets out groans of loathing as she starts to yell, not wanting to let go of Keith’s hair so he could get out of the car. Much like that morning, Keith ends up carrying Katie into the station, Colleen hovering nearby in case she got too heavy for him. (Shiro’s impressed by how strong Keith is for his size.)

Shiro and Matt are left on a bench in the front office with Katie, having effectively bribed her out of Keith’s arms with the promise of letting her play with Matt’s Gameboy. Katie watches Shiro play with acute attention, observing him peacefully and only reaching for the device a couple of times. Matt lets her mess around with his own Gameboy after a few games, watching her turn it on and off repeatedly with the same fascination Keith had found in the car seatbelts. She takes out the batteries at one point - something which happens quite often, and with many more devices than just a Gameboy - and Shiro and Matt watch her put them back in exactly as they’d been before.

When Colleen, Sam, and Keith reappear, Katie and Matt have fallen asleep nestled up against Shiro’s side while he plays Animal Crossing, and when he looks up at his surrogate parents, he notices Keith huddling close to Colleen’s side with a grim expression and the remnants of tears.

“Well?” Shiro asks, kicking at Matt to wake him up while Sam takes Katie into his arms. Colleen smiles, and both Shiro and Matt notice that it isn’t her true smile. “There aren’t any kids missing in any of the nearby states that match Keith’s description. I’m afraid he’s got nowhere to go.” She says, gripping Keith’s hand tighter. Keith looks like he’s trying his absolute hardest not to cry.

“If he doesn’t have anywhere to go, can’t he just stay with us?” Matt says.

Everyone turns to look at him. Matt frowns and scoots backward a bit. “What?! Katie likes him! And Katie doesn’t like anyone! He looks a lot like Shiro too, and you said yourself that the foster care system in America sucks ass!” Colleen shot him a look at that, but didn’t say anything, her brows knitting together in thought. She wasn’t in thought for long before she smiled from ear to ear. “Well, what a good idea that is!” Kneeling down next to Keith, Colleen ruffled his hair and let his hand fall out of hers. “Keith, how would you like to be a permanent member of our family?”

Without even a moment’s hesitation, Keith nods violently, the tears he’d been desperately holding back finally falling. Colleen wraps him up in a hug and carries him on her hip, letting him smush his face into her blouse as Sam, Matt, and Shiro are dragged into the hug, Katie waking up to grab at Keith’s hair again and fuss about the fact he wasn’t giving her attention.

That night, when Shiro passes by Katie’s bedroom, Colleen is crouched by the toddler bed, Katie and Keith huddled together under the covers and fast asleep, peaceful as can be.

#aestival #voltron: legendary defender

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