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galacticxcosmos · 3 years

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𝐖𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 ❣︎ ᵏᵗʰ

Pairing :- Taehyung X Reader

Genre :- Bestfriends to Lovers AU, Erotic, Angst, Romance and Fluff.

Rating :- 18+ ( M )

Word Count :- 4.4k

Summary :- "Not everyone in this world deserves to be loved. I am one of those little number of unfortunate people" that's what you thought after your terrible breakup which led you to your bestfriend's appartment at midnight to seek comfort until things went way beyond just 'comfort'.

Warnings :- It's CEO Taehyung (but no office romance shit), Broke college student, Dom Taehyung, Sub reader, Some angst that idk how I managed to write, Sexual Tension, Buried feelings, Past feelings, Teasing, Morning Sex, Daddy Kink, Pinning, Oral (M receiving), Unprotected Sex, After care (omg) with fluff (omg).

A/N :- I know that I haven't been very active on Tumblr, but trust me I am trying my best, also I am still working on the next chapter for "Chemicals Collide", so please be a little more patient. Also I got inspiration for this Oneshot from Jungkook's cover, I think you guessed it already, but then I saw I had already written a JK Oneshot, so I gave this to Tae baby. Enjoy~

Not everyone in this world deserves to be loved. I am one of those little number of unfortunate people.

I could feel the numb pain in my stomach, feeling like I am going to throw up, going back and forth between feeling nothing and being unable to stop the tears. All I could think about was if this is really the end. I picked up my pace, now breaking into a fast jog towards Taehyung's house. Tears we're rapidly streaming down my face, uncontrollable at this point. I sprinted through the apartment complex, my legs moving as quickly as they could to get to him. I wiped my face with my sleeve as I got to his floor, a failed attempt to make myself look slightly okay.

I knew Taehyung would see right past these attempts though, he'll quickly understand that I've been sobbing with one glance in my direction. He knew me too well. After knocking on the door, there was a faint thud before someone cautiously opened the door. Taehyung stood there, slightly disheveled with the smell of alcohol dripping off of him. Right, Saturday means Taehyung gets shit faced every night. Although intoxicated, he quickly realised I wasn't okay. "What happened? Did someone hurt you? Do I need to go and fight someone?" He slurred slightly, stepping outside. I chuckled, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back into the apartment before he got the both of us locked out.

"How many have you drank?" I asked, going to the kitchen and grabbing a water bottle to give him. My legs were threatening to give out, but he should property drink something besides alcohol before he puts himself in a coma. I walked over to where he sat on the couch, handing him the water bottle before going to pick up bottles. Sure, drinking was absolutely terrible and Taehyung may have developed a problem. I just never comment on it because we all have our own ways of dealing with things, not all of them being good. After cleaning up his expensive ass apartment, I went to sit down with him. He was quietly watching TV, taking interest in some show that showed people getting hurt. He was slowly sipping his water, showing barely any interest in the almost full bottle he held in his hand.

"Tae, I asked, how many have you drank?" I asked again. "I counted like 10 while cleaning up." Taehyung didn't say anything, just shrugging as he propped his feet up on the ottoman. I sighed, following his actions and getting comfortable. It must be nice to have an apartment to yourself and not be stuck in a crammed dorm room with another person. Must be nice to not go to school and struggle everyday. Nice to not have your heart broken on the day of your anniversary. Without noticing, a small sob fell from my lips, catching Taehyung's attention instantly. Worry was written across his face as he peered over to me, one eyebrow raised.

"What happened?" He mumbled, moving to wrap one arm around me. He held me close to him, a mix of his cologne and alcohol filling my nose. "He broke up with me." I mumbled, another sob falling from my lips. I wrapped my arms around Taehyung's toned torso, hugging him like there was no tomorrow. "Isn't it your anniversary? Didn't you text me earlier today about everything?" He asked gently, trying not to make it seem like a big deal. Another sob fell, making him realise that maybe it wasn't a good idea to pull on that string. He sighed, moving so he could easily pull me into his lap. I quickly straddled him in order to bury my face in his neck.

My arms still held onto his torso as he wrapped his arms around me. He must've closed the water bottle and tossed it aside sometime earlier, deciding it was more important to comfort me. So, how the hell did a broke college student become best friends with one of the youngest CEOs in Seoul? It honestly still amazes me that we're even still friends, that I get the pleasure of being his best friend. He's everything you'd want in a person. Caring, beautiful, fit despite his work schedule, one of most hardworking people you'll ever meet.

We've been friends since we were teens, simple freshmen stuck together for a lab experiment. Thinking back on it, it's sort of funny because the first thing he ever said was I like your shirt. I smiled slightly, thinking back on the fond memories. Taehyung and I are some of the closest of people, and we're always joined at the hip when we aren't busy. I mean, we grew up together, figured out college together, lost our virginity to each other. I chuckled slightly thinking about it. Two teens frustrated and scared to lose it to someone who didn't know us. It just sort of played out one night, safe word established quickly since Taehyung was so worried. Taehyung shuffled slightly under me.

"What are you laughing about, Miss?" He teased, jabbing my sides. He's always loved fucking with me, and knew how to get on my nerves in just a few attempts. I decided to lie, figuring that, if he even remembered that night, he wouldn't want to hear about it. I shrugged, shoving my face into his neck further. "I was thinking about science when we were paired together." I said, my focus going to my shirt that was riding up slightly. Taehyung paid no attention to it, his hands resting on the bare skin of my back.

"Ugh, don't remind me." He laughed before mocking himself. "I like your shirt." I laughed, shaking my head at him. I sat up, my hands placed on his chest. He seemed tired, but sobering up a bit. His hands released my torso, going to wipe the tears off my cheeks. I smiled slightly before climbing off his lap and standing back up. "Finish drinking your water." I said, tossing the bottle over to where he was sitting. I walked into his living room, opening up the fridge and seeing what was there. I shrugged, settling on leftover takeout I'm assuming was from the shop near his work. I tossed it into the microwave before calling out to Taehyung.

"Do you want anything?" I asked, waiting for a response. "You." A small reply came, unsure and small compared to his normal loud ass. I laughed at him before asking the question once more. He simply said nothing, stating he wasn't hungry. He usually isn't when he drinks anyway. I took the takeout out, walking back into the living room. I sat and ate, making sure not to spill anything because I definitely couldn't afford to buy him a new one. This couch is probably my salary, the boy's got money. "Are you okay?" He asked, reaching over to rub my thigh. "Didn't I tell you he was a dick though? You should date better people. Like me."

I laughed at him, playfully swatting his hand away from me. I went back to my food, not paying attention to the hand creeping up towards my thigh once more. He rubbed his hand up my thighs once more, smiling slightly. "Taehyung, you're drunk." I mumbled, shoving food into my mouth once more.

Taehyung moved once more, placing his hand on my arm. Whines immediately came from me, complaining about the food and expensive couch. "Taehyung, I'm going to spill this on your couch and you're going to be mad at me" I threatened. "Fuck it. I can buy a new one." He mumbled, reaching up to smack the food out of my hand. I jerked my arm away, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "No you can't you drunk cunt." I mumbled, jumping over and pulling him down on the couch. I curled up under his arm, my face buried in his chest while I placed my arm on his side. He smiled, looking up at the TV after placing a kiss on my forehead. He held me closer, and continued to hold me until I drifted off to sleep.

∆∆∆

The sound of shuffling woke me up, my eyes barely adjusting to the bright light. Taehyung was shuffling next to me, struggling to get up. I let out a small grunt, moving so he could easily stand up. He apologized before running off to what I assumed was the bathroom. I smashed myself into the corner of the couch, trying to gain back the warmth that just left. Taehyung's chuckles filled the room as he passed by the living room, walking into the kitchen. He was probably going to go grab pain killers and a water. He waltzed back to the couch, plopping down. I let out a small grunt of disapproval.

"Come on, go and do your classes." He said, pulling me by my shirt towards him. He's always used his strength to do whatever, and it gets annoying every now and then. "Would you stop pulling me around like a ragdoll?" I said, rolling over to look at him. He had a smirk on his face, missing his shirt that he was previously wearing. "Go get a shirt on" I said. "No." He said, dropping a water bottle and laying down. I rolled over, cuddling into his warm embrace. His golden skin always give off warmth, and god I loved it. "Shouldn't you have classes to attend?" Taehyung asked, wrapping his arms around me. I rolled my eyes at him, wondering how stupid he has to be to not understand.

"I just got my heart broken yesterday, why would I want to do anything?" I mumbled, "I just want comfort and to rest for awhile." Taehyung nodded, holding me. He mumbled something that I didn't quite catch, but I was too lazy to ask what he said. "Why do you date douchebags? I mean, they don't give you the love you deserve and end up breaking your heart. You should find someone that actually cares about you." He mumbled, tangling his legs with mine. "Why does it matter to you Taehyung?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Because you come to my apartment at like 3 am sobbing usually. And you shouldn't even be out at that time, with someone else or alone for that matter. It's not safe. And you deserve better." He mumbled. "Would you stop worrying about that? I'll be okay." I could barely even finish my sentence when Taehyung crashed his lips onto mine, our lips molding together within seconds. Taehyung pulled away slightly, attaching his lips on to my jaw. My breath hitched, hands moving to grab at his arms.

"Taehyung, I don't think this is a good idea." I mumbled, his movements coming to a stop and his body stiffing. "I just mean we're probably just confused and I just broke up and you're a famous CEO hooking up with a college st-" I knew if I asked, he would immediately stop. It's not that I was afraid of him doing something stupid, I was afraid of the underlying feelings I had for my best friend. The feelings that make me want to cherish and love him just as much as have him fuck my brains out.

"Tell me y/n, do you really think I don't notice?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Think I don't notice the looks you give me when you think I'm not paying attention? You rubbing together your thighs when you're around me?". "Taehyung I still don't think-", "You don't think this is a good idea because you're afraid. You'll have a real man now, someone that will love and appreciate you as well as please you? Listen, I have no problem with that as long as you return it." He mumbled, moving over to whisper in my ear. "Do you know how much you affect me?"

He licked my ear, sucking slightly causing me to whimper. My eyes were screwed shut, head cocked to side. He climbed around so he could be on top, grinding our hips together slightly. His bulge rubbed against my thigh, rock hard. "Taehyung-", "Waste it on me y/n. Your love, please just this once. You waste it on everyone else, so why not me? Why not your best friend that's in love? Please, it's not going to hurt if it's just once." He mumbled, locking eyes with me. "Taehyung-", "Daddy." He corrected, is he serious right now?? He wants me to fill in his kinks now??

"Taehy-", "Did you not hear me babygirl?" He said, staring down at me. I gripped his torso, wondering how the hell I got myself into this situation. How I ended up here, with him. "Daddy, please." I said, coming out more whiny than I expected. He smirked slightly, a look of confidence flushing over his face. "What babygirl? Tell me so I can please you." He said, moving so his face was a mere millimeters away. "Kiss me."

He did, quickly getting rid of the space in between us. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling slightly. His hips slightly rolled into mine, pulling a moan from the both of us. Taehyung's hands slipped down, running up and down my sides, stopping to squeeze slightly. His hands found their way to my ass, squeezing and rubbing. "Daddy~" I whined, rolling my hips up into his. He let out a small groan, moving to place hot, open mouthed kisses all along my neck. He stopped to suck a small bruise here and there, making sure to leave his mark.

His hands slipped into my shirt, squeezing my sides. I giggled slightly, jerking away from the ticklish action. Taehyung smiled up at me before slipping my shirt up and eventually over my head. My arms instinctively went to cover my skin, Taehyung clicking his tongue slightly. "Come on babe, don't make me tie you up." He mocked, smirking at me. My eyes widened slightly, taking Taehyung back for a moment. "God, I don't remember a freak in highschool.", "Oh my God. Please don't." I said, staring at him. He's referring to losing our virginity to each other, embarrassing.

"So shy and innocent-", "I don't remember such a cocky shit in the bedroom either? You think you've gotten better?" I challenged. "I know I've gotten better." He answered. He's so full of himself. "Whoever cums first, loses." I challenged, staring up at him. He looked taken back. I smiled, sitting up in order to push him back on the couch. I straddled him, sitting on his hips as I took my bra off and tossed it somewhere across the room. Taehyung's hands flew up, squeezing and pinching what he could manage. I let out a small whine when he took a sensitive bud in between his fingers, twisting it roughly. My hips involuntary rolled, Taehyung's hips jerking up. I moved, going to pull on his shorts. The more I pulled down, I realized he wasn't wearing any underwear.

"This was your plan all morning?" I questioned. "Nope, just when I seen you over here looking like a fresh baked snack." He said, making me laugh at how stupid he was. I rolled my eyes, kissing his hips slightly. Once his shorts were off, he wasted no time kicking them halfway across the room. I giggled slightly, laying down on the couch so I was level with his cock. Taehyung threw his head back, his breathing becoming uneven. I licked a long stripe from bottom to top, stopping at the top to flick my tongue along his tip. I slowly wrapped my lips around his tip, sinking down slightly before coming back up. I took inch by inch until he hit the back of my throat, sinking down a bit more before coming up. A low moan fell from Taehyung as I swallowed around him, his hips involuntary bucked up into my mouth.

I fought off my gag reflex, hallowing my cheeks around him. I let him face fuck me, his hands roughly controlling my head to please himself. A loud whine fell from him, grabbing my hair and pulling my head up an off. He wrapped his fingers around his base, squeezing. Once he calmed down, he looked up at me. "Okay Miss, your turn." He said before basically pouncing on me. Our lips connected in a rush, molding together as his hands slipped into my jeans. He popped open the buttons with ease, sliding my jeans down my legs. His warms hands squeezed my thighs, coming up to link his fingers with my lace panties.

He pulled away from the kiss, locking eyes with me quickly before sinking down. He gently pulled off the lace, tossing it aside. After a bit, he nipped at my thigh, sucking a bruise. He continued nipping at my thighs, making me get more and more impatient. "Daddy! Please!" I whined, my hips bucking up. He moved, licking a long stripe. I whined as me began sucking on my clit, flicking his tongue every now and then. My hands were buried in his hair, resisting the urge to crush his head with my thighs.

I felt Taehyung's smirk, wrapping his arms around my thighs and pinning me down. I bucked my hips into his mouth, a low moan falling from my lips. "Taehyung, slow down." I whined, my legs shaking in his arms. He did, slowing down his tongue flicks. He let go one of my legs, moving his finger to me gently. Slowly, he pushed his finger in knuckle deep. I couldn't fight the loud moan that fell from me.

"God I fucking love your thighs." He mumbled, drawing circles where one of his arms was still wrapped around me. "So thick and full, so much better than the sticks that throw themselves at me." A small laugh came from me, shaking my head at him. "I'm sure you've had plenty of those sticks in here." He shook his head, drawing his finger out slowly before pushing it back in. I grabbed his wrist, positioning it a bit differently and told him to curl his fingers next time. He followed, hitting exactly where I needed him to. My whole body jerked, making him smile up at me.

"Fuck I've missed you." Taehyung groaned, talking to himself more than anything. I wasn't sure if he meant me, or my heat. I decided not to ask, not wanting to get hurt over something so stupid. His fingers picked up their pace, hitting exactly where I told him. Moans fell from my lips, my head thrown back as I held onto his head. Slowly, I felt an orgasm coming upon me. "Taehyung!" I whined, grabbing his arm and jerking him away. He could easily continue, overpower me completely with just one hand. But Taehyung isn't like that. He became instantly worried."Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop?" He asked, panic striking him from all sides.

I laughed, sitting up. I pulled him to me, kissing him as deeply as I could. "No, you're okay. Just, a bit overwhelming." I smiled. He nodded, sitting up. "Is it okay if I continue, I need to stretch you out. I'd hate to hurt you." He said, slightly hesitant with each word he spoke. "Of course. And what happened to the man that was just so cocky seconds ago?" I asked, teasing him. He scoffed, continuing. He started with one finger, slowly adding a second and beginning a scissoring motion.

Small moans fell from me, gripping his arm where I was able to. Looking down, Taehyung still wore his arrogant smile. After he deemed me stretched and ready enough, he sat up and in between my thighs. He looked around for a few seconds, for what I'm assuming is for a condom or something like that. "No condom." I mumbled, making his attention snap back over to me. His cheeks were slightly flushed and eyes full of concern and slight worry. "I'm on the pill." I reassured. "Yeah, but that's not a 100% you won't get pregnant." Taehyung mumbled, still worried. I laughed, shaking my head at him.

"It's pretty damn close, but if you're really that scared go find one. I'll be here waiting for you." I teased, watching his eyes narrow at me slightly. I giggled as he pounced on top of me, pinning my arms above my head with ease. A small smirk grew on my face as I nibbled slightly on his earlobe. "Daddy, please fuck me." Taehyung couldn't resist anymore, positioning himself before easily sliding in. He let out a loud grunt as he bottomed out, his head falling into my neck. "Fuck, when's the last time you've had sex?"

"What? What do you mean?" I asked, slightly panicking at his question. Taehyung slowly pushed himself up, sitting back on his legs with my thighs in his palms. I propped myself up on my elbows, watching as he slowly slid out before slamming back into me. I jolt of pleasure shot throughout my body. "You haven't been fucked in awhile, no? You're so tight." Taehyung said, placing on of my legs over his shoulder to give him better access. I let out a loud moan as he picked up his pace, gaining a steady and rather quick rhythm. Taehyung was letting out small grunts, his face becoming sweaty and his bangs sticking to his forehead.

"Ah, Taehyung" I whined, grabbing onto his arm as he pounded into me. He scoffed, leaning forward to nail my g-spot. He was folding me in half, basically. "I'll let that one slip, babygirl. But next time you're getting punished." He growled, crashing his lips onto mine while still maintaining his thrusts. As the kiss became rougher, so did his thrusts. The sound of skin hitting skin soon filled the room accompanied by moans. Taehyung's grip was harsh, holding onto my waist and thighs like it was the only thing keeping him alive. I could barely see straight anymore, pleasure washing over me. I smiled, remembering something Taehyung was absolutely weak for. I reached up, taking one of his sensitive buds in between my fingers and flicking it roughly.

He let out a throaty groan, head falling forward slightly. He was focusing on his thrusts, speeding up and slamming harder than before. Profanities spilt from the both of us, gripping onto whatever we could to keep us in place. "Fuck, I'm going to cum." Taehyung moaned, making me smirk up at him. I mumbled a small, then I win. His head shot up, completely forgetting about the dumb bet set long ago. His fingers went straight to my clit, roughly stimulating me. I yelped, holding onto his wrist for dear life while clamping down around him.

His thrusts we're sloppy and more desperate than before, quickly reaching his high. With a few lasts thrusts and moans, he came deep inside of me. As soon as he came, the stimulation caught up and sent me flying over. Bolts of pleasure shot throughout me, my toes curling and head thrown back into the sofa. I ripped Taehyung's fingers away from me, becoming too sensitive. He smirked, sliding his fingers into my mouth. I licked them, rolling my tongue in between. He watched, shaking his head.

My body was shaking, something Taehyung was quick to notice. He laid his body weight on top of me, kissing me with the most passion he ever has. The shaking came to an eventual stop, both of us relaxing for a few seconds. "Well, I guess we both lost." I mumbled, not really knowing how to not make this awkward. Taehyung laughed, shaking his head violently.

"Let's not do that weird thing where you think I'm going to suddenly leave you." He smiled, running his hands up and down my thighs. "I'll go run us a bath." He got up, jogging into the bathroom. I heard water turn on followed by a few drawers opening. After a few moments, he came back and scooped me up into his arms bridle style, making me laugh. Taehyung sat down first, then helping me sit down in between his legs. I let out a small hum, leaning against his torso and relaxing. "You know Taehyung, this is really nice." I smiled, letting him trace little patterns onto my shoulders and chest.

He smiled, kissing my shoulder gently. "Your girlfriend is going to be so lucky, she just doesn't know it yet.", "Well um, I was actually hoping you'd be my girlfriend. And I mean like, official official like dating and going out and doing things together." He laughed, "Not just hook-ups at 3 am.", "Are you serious? You're messing with me?" I calmly said, acting as if I didn't care but the frantic beating in my chest told another story. "Yeah, I've loved you since like high school." Taehyung said, becoming cheesy and acting offended when I made fun of him for it.

"I'd love to be with you Taehyung. I just think it's weird that the youngest CEO in the world is dating a broke college student." I said. "And don't get me wrong, I'm not dating you just because you're a CEO. I actually do love and care about you a lot. I always have cared about you in a more than friends way.", "Stop referring to yourself as a broke college student. You're my best friend since high school, my first ever love and my love now." He said, a dumb smile plastered across his face. I laughed, making fun of him again.

"I'm glad Taehyung. I love you too." I smiled, looking back and pecking his lips. He wore the brightest smile, kissing my shoulders while wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. I smiled, "Jesus Christ I'm happy that dick broke up with me." Taehyung laughed in response, "Get broken up by a dick and then dicked down after. You fucking slut.", I laughed, turning around to punch him in the shoulder. "Says the one that was willing to fuck me right there, on the spot." I said, mocking him. "Hey, you never told me to stop. And if you did you know I would've." He said, beginning to ramble and get cheesy again. "Okay, relax. You just fucked me, don't get all phycological about it." You playfully rolled your eyes.

"You know what?? I am glad that this time you wasted it on me" he lovingly kissed your cheek.

The End.

Feel free to like or reblog, comment down any requests you have and you can follow me inorder to stay updated.

~peace out.

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Californian Dream (Pt. 10 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.5 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

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{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

Home

“It won't take long now,” Billy mutters, his hand holding yours are you both walk through the beach. Everyone is at the snack bar, eyes on the TV, getting all the details about the most famous gang being finally arrested. “Your father will call and you can go back home.”

“I know.” Moving a strand of hair away from your face, you look down as the ripples reach your feet. “I'll go. Spend the night there and on the next morning I'll tell them.” The plan comes up suddenly because that's the best you can give them. A last night in the house before moving out for good. “I'll tell them I'll drop out of college and look for something I really wanna study. That we're dating and I'll be living with you.”

“Are you sure about this? Because you know they won't let it go that easily.”

“I know and I don't care.” Stopping, you move to stand before him, cupping his cheeks. “I mean, you still want me to live with you, right?”

“I do.” Leaning closer, Billy kisses you, soft and slow. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you tiptoe. “And I need you to know that I won't accept the money your father said he'd give for... Sheltering you.”

“Baby, you can accept it. I don't mind.”

“I can't. Having you at my place was... It is amazing, all the money in the world wouldn't be enough to pay for what you gave me.” Biting your lip, you smile at his words, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“You're so romantic.” In a sassy tone, you step back when his face changes, ready to run if necessary.

“Just don't tell anyone,” Billy whispers, and, in a sudden motion, he moves forward, arms around your waist, lifting you up.

“I won't!” You exclaim, laughing as he spins you around before setting you down again. “It'll be our secret.” Whispering on his ear, you giggle when a bigger wave hits your calves.

“I guess the future talk will happen sooner rather than later.” He states, pulling away before another wave soaks your skirt even more.

“Yeah... I guess so.” Clearing your throat, you blush a little to remember what he said earlier. “That, Uhm... About kids.” Wait. You shouldn't bring that up. It's way too soon, and be was probably kidding. “I mean, let's get real first. I'll drop off of college and focus on my job. I like it and maybe choose another course I like. Mmm... That's pretty much it. You?”

Billy gives you a look, shaking his head lightly. Trying to dissimulate with Billy is useless. You're an open book to him, you have been since day one. “Neil was a devil of a father. And I want to be better.” His voice gets darker at the mention of Neil. You don't know the man, but you hate him with all your strength for what he did to Billy. You hope you'll never see him face to face, or else you won't be able to keep from breaking his damn nose. “Of course I never actually thought of it before, but now... You just... You messed me up, ok? In a good way, but still, you messed me up and now I'm making plans.” Rolling his eyes dramatically, Billy sits down on the sand, and you do the same, climbing on top of him. “And that's all your fault.”

“My fault? I wasn't trying to make you fall for me.” Defending yourself, you push him down until he's lying on his back and you're lying on top of him.

“If you were trying, I'd have fallen for you when you gave me that lemonade.” He places a kiss on your nose, making you giggle. “Or even before, when I saw you walking around the house... Avoiding me.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I noticed that, princess.”

“Well, I couldn't talk to you and risk sounding like a complete idiot.” Taking both his hands, you hold them down on each side of his head, ignoring his cocky face. “And it's your fault for being so good looking.”

“Hey, hey! You two!” A yell gets your attention, and when you turn your head to see, you find Stacy and Anne. “We're watching you.”

“Creepy.” You mutter, moving off of him and back on your feet. “But guess the party isn't over yet, and honey, I want to dance.”

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't dance with my lady.” In a quick motion, he's back up, arms around your waist as you make your way back to the bonfire.

•••

It takes three days until your father calls you. He doesn't say much, just that the gang is arrested and it's now safe for you to go back home.

Home. That house isn't home, but you comply, not wanting to make them sad or anything. So it's after lunch when Billy is driving you there, not a single thing with you. You didn't even bother to bring a bag to fake it. It'll be only one night, and then you'll sit and talk to them.

When you're moving through the gates, the same feeling you once had comes back. You feel suffocated, surrounded by all the things you don't care about. There will be a few people over, and they'll get into those meaningless conversations again, and they'll be looking at you, judging you. They'll talk about your clothes. They're normal, not insanely expensive. No... Your mother will make you go upstairs and change immediately. The lump in your throat only surrenders a bit when you feel Billy's hand on your thigh.

“You'll alright?”

“Yeah, just... Thinking about tomorrow. I'll talk to them, get my car, and when you're back from work, I'll be there.” That's your goal. That's what you're so damn excited for. Tomorrow evening, which will be exactly like the evenings you've been having for months. And you love every single one of them.

“I can't wait.” He gives you a glance and smiles. Your smile. The one that's not cocky and doesn't have a hidden meaning behind it. Not a sassy one. Just a bright, beautiful, genuine smile, that lights up his whole face.

The moment he stops the car by the front door, you get separated. You knew this would happen, so you're prepared. After hugs, tears, and welcomes from both your parents and the sea of people here, your mother guides you upstairs, making you change into a white dress with sunflowers. You don't complain, you just do as she says. For the last time.

Back downstairs, you see Billy and your father talking by the door. He tries to hand Billy a piece of paper, a paycheck probably, but Billy refuses. After a while, Billy leaves, but not before glancing at you. You know it's only for a short period, but you feel like part of your heart is going with him.

“(Y/N), honey?” Your mother calls. “Won't you answer Mrs. Vanner?”

“Oh, yes...” Shaking your head lightly, you try to focus on... Whatever they're talking about. “Sorry, what was it again?”

“I'm sure you're happy to be back home after so long having to live in such a small space.” Mrs. Vanner says, her fake, wide smile making it really hard not to roll your eyes.

Of course they know where you were now. Mother had to tell them, just for the sake of the gossip. “How can you possibly know the size of Billy's apartment?” You snap, not really trying to keep the sweet tone.

“Oh, please. Mr. Hargrove is the man who washes my son's car. How big can his place be.” She sounds so gentle, so plastic.

You should keep your mouth shut. You should play along, keep up the act until tomorrow morning, just until tomorrow morning. But you can't. You lost the ability to fake it. “Yeah. It is small. Your ego wouldn't fit in it.”

“(Y/N)!” Your mother exclaims, almost choking on her drink. “Where are your manners?”

“That's alright. Living with someone from a different class may have her used to different kinds of behavior.” Mrs. Vanner snaps, in an apologetic tone.

“Something we can agree on!” You exclaim, giving her a big smile. “That's a first.”

“(Y/N), that's enough.”

“I agree with that too.” Putting your drink down, you stand up from the armchair. “I'll head upstairs and rest for a bit.” Without saying anything else, you walk away, the high heels echoing through the empty spaces. But you stop in the middle of the stairs to kick them away before running to your bedroom.

But of course, there's a hell of a dinner. And, of course, you have to be there, nodding and smiling, pretending to pay attention to whatever they're saying. With your leg bouncing under the table, you play with your fancy food. Your mind floats back home. To the apartment. Billy is probably home already, eating what's left of the lasagna you made together yesterday. That lasagna is so much better than this boeuf bourguignon you're being forced to eat.

“Are you excited to go back to college, (Y/N)?” Mr. Eleanor asks, and you silently nod. “I bet you'll be an amazing lawyer just like your father over there.”

“Yeah.” Until they find you a rich husband and you have to abandon your career to turn into a housewife, with nothing to do but to administrate the house and spend rivers of money on useless things.

The dinner goes on for endless hours, and the small get together after has you exhausted. When you excuse yourself, getting to your bedroom, you fill up your tub and spend an hour or two there, trying to relax in a house that doesn't feel like yours anymore. It never did, but now, that feeling is amplified since you found a place you feel at home.

By the time you're in your pajamas, lying on the bed, it's way past midnight. The chattering died and everyone left, but still, you can't sleep. Kicking the sheets away, you get to your feet, walking to the balcony and breathing in the night air when you push the slide door opened. Billy fixed your railing. He was here before you even exchanged a single word with him. And you wish he was here now. With you. You didn't know exactly why you couldn't sleep, but now you do. Billy is always holding you, one way or another, and hugging the pillow doesn't compare. Is it what love is? Losing the capacity of falling asleep away from the person you love? Stepping forward, you let your fingers touch the cold metal, a smile coming to your lips.

California never felt like home. Until you found Billy.

Giving your huge garden a look, taking in the green grass and threes under the low lights, eyes wandering through its extension, you smile. And, in the blink of an eye, you know what to do.

The car keys are in the same place you left them, in a small vase on your dresser. Taking them, you put on the first pair of flats you find, having the decency of trying not to make too much noise on your way out. But you don't care, not anymore. On your way downstairs, you halt on the last step when you see Amelia, in her nightgown, coming from the kitchen with a mug in her hands. She's a little startled and confused, but her expression softens after a while.

“Don't try to stop me.” You say in a low voice.

“Are you going to be with Billy?” She asks, but by the look on her face, she already knows the answer. Amelie knows you too well, a lot better than your parents.

“Yes. I love him.” It comes out naturally, and it gives you a sense of freedom you can't describe. Saying it, here, is amazing.

“Then go, bunny.” Amelia smiles, and you rush to give her a tight hug before making your way to the garage, straight into your pink Cadillac.

You never enjoyed driving as much as you do now that you're going somewhere you wanna be. The streets are only half empty, and you decide to put the top down to feel the night air on your face, only to put it up again when you reach the parking lot. There are a few spaces, thank God, and you park on the first one you find, running up to Billy's apartment, panting after the six sets of stairs leading to the third floor.

But it doesn't matter. You're at his door, and it doesn't matter. You have the key, but the whole keychain is inside, so you have no choice but to knock a few times.

And when the door is open, a very sleepy Billy seems all confused, as if he just saw a ghost. “(Y/N)?”

“I couldn't sleep.” You simply say, keeping your voice as low as you can despite still trying to catch your breath.

His confusion fades away, and a smile takes over. “Me neither.” Stepping forward, Billy wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you inside with him before pushing the door close and crashing his lips on yours.

This was the right decision, as crazy as it seems. When Billy kisses you, you know that everything you did that led to this moment was right. He's pulling you to the bedroom when the phone rings. The damn thing has the bad habit of interrupting you.

“Let me–”

“No. I know who it is.” Cutting him off, you pull away, walking over the phone. You don't think much before answering it. “Hi, dad.”

“Wha– (Y/N)?” He stutters, and your mother says something on the back about her being right. “What the hell are you doing there? Your mother went to your room and you were gone, she almost had a heart attack!”

“I'm sorry. I'm at Billy's.”

“Why in the hell are you there? Get your ass back home now.”

“No.” You state, crossing your arms.

“What do you mean by ‘no’?” He scoffs. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Father, I'm an adult and I know exactly what I'm doing.” Taking a deep breath, you run a hand through your hair. “We have a lot to talk about, and I'll explain everything, I promise. Meet me tomorrow in your favorite restaurant at noon.”

“What? I won't–”

“If you want to know what's going on and why I came back here, you'll go. Tell mother to go as well. Have a good night.” Without allowing him to say anything else, you hang up. Turning to look at Billy, you sigh. “Call in sick tomorrow, because I'll need you with me.”

“I have a couple of days off I can use, don't worry.” He comes closer, pulling you into a tight hug. “I'll be right there with you.”

“They'll say all kinds of mean things, you know that, right?”

“I don't care.”

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon @clockworkballerina @infinitelycharmed23 @lilred91

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy stranger things fanfiction #billy stranger things imagine #billy stranger things #imagine stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction

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zmediaoutlet · 3 years

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in support of Texas relief, @doilycoffin donated $100, and requested Liam & Cordell Walker. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

(read on AO3)

One of Liam's earliest memories is the time Cordell dropped him on his head. Not actually accurate at all to the way it went but that's how it's told in the family mythology. He was really little, three maybe or four—for some reason that part's indeterminate—and Cordell was climbing the stable and playing adventurer, or maybe just showing off and the adventurer part was a good excuse. Liam was following Cordell around like he always did and he tried to climb up, too, on the fence that kept in the horses when they were let out for their run, and Cordell told him no and that he was too little but Liam was determined to try. Cordell climbed back down and tried to steady him where he'd made it up to the top rung of the fence, and Liam lost his balance anyway, and fell straight backwards and landed headfirst on the dirt. There was a little rock and then a lot of blood, and then stitches, and Mama fussing and their dad ripping Cordi a new one—Liam doesn't even remember that it hurt—but the part that sticks it as a memory is how they all rode together in the truck back and forth from the doctor and Cordell held his hand in the backseat and he was crying, the whole way home, a silent seeping kind of crying that made his face a shiny mess. Liam thinks about that weirdly often. Cordi looking out the window and crying.

When the story gets retold for new friends, or the kids, or Cordell's buddies from the Rangers come around for coffee and Mama's pecan pie, they tell it that Cordell's so clumsy he dropped his baby brother on his head. Liam sort of hates it, every time. Cordell laughs and does the aw shucks routine he's so good at, relaxed with his beer and shrugging embarrassed apology. When Liam was about to head off to college, his eighteenth birthday dinner, Daddy told the story again as a kind of miracle survival, and Liam got up from the table real fast and went out onto the porch, annoyed for some reason beyond measure. It was Cordi who got up and came after him and said, a little cautious, "What's up, Stinker?" and Liam said to him, mad, "Why don't you ever tell people it was me? I was the one climbing up after you. It's not like you did it on purpose."

Cordell just blinked at him. "What does it matter?" he said. "You were the baby and I was a dumbass kid. So what?" He hooked his arm around Liam's neck and he smelled like sweat and Old Spice and that laundry detergent Emily bought that wasn't anything like the one they used at home. Liam pushed at his side but didn't try hard to get away. Not that it would've worked. "It's how we figured out how hard that head was, right? Come on. Mama's gonna wonder if you didn't like the brisket."

Liam let himself be dragged back into the house, and Cordi pushed him down into his chair right between him and Emily, and Emily smiled at him easy, and passed him the potatoes. "One month 'til the dorms," she said, very quiet so no one else could hear under Cordell telling some awful lie about Liam having gas, and Liam laughed, surprised, and it just happened that it was the same time everyone else laughed so that was okay. He always liked Emily. Cordell punched his thigh lightly on his other side, and gave him a warmer more real smile, and Liam dropped it, and he didn't complain about the story again.

Seven years between them. Liam always wondered if he was an accident, even if Mama said that with Cordell going to school she was ready to have another baby around the house. Cordell was always the one who was getting into trouble. Rambunctious, loud, falling headfirst into things and getting dragged out covered in mud. Liam learned from his example what not to do. Do not: run along the bleachers at the football stadium and vault the handrails until your foot gets caught and you fall and snap your wrist clean in two. Do not: get caught drinking beer with your high school girlfriend behind the horsebarn, and make Daddy give the most mortifying sex talk in the world afterward. Do not: make friends with the most delinquent-ass kid in the whole hill country and wind up explaining every other week why, really, he wasn't that bad, give him a chance—

Somehow even then he was the golden child. Not the best grades, not the most obedient. That wasn't what their dad cared about. Cordell was good on a horse, good on his feet. Respectful when it mattered and devil-may-care when it didn't. In high school he was the quarterback, of course he was, and Liam was right there in the stands with their parents every Friday night, cheering his lungs out. Weirdly boastful with his fourth-grade friends: his older brother was the star of the football team. His older brother could ride a bull for ten seconds and get off hardly winded. Bookish, kind of short, he needed the borrowed glory of Cordell's success to be proud of. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it got him pushed over on the soccer field while some bigger boy went, gawd, William, who cares?

Liam never got in trouble. Never broke a bone. After bringing Cordell back from the hospital with a fresh new cast on his ankle and a dopey slightly-drugged smile on his face, Mama settled him in bed with Liam's help and turned off the light and then, in the kitchen, sighed and said, "Liam, you are a real relief to the mind, do you know that?" He was proud of that, too, in that moment. It wasn't until later that it nagged at him. A therapist asked him, much later in a sleek Manhattan office that smelled faintly of sage, "Do you think your predilection for being contrarian results from that time?" He went home annoyed with her, and was more annoyed when he told Bret the story and Bret didn't even turn around from the carbonara he was making and said, "Babe, you're the most contrary person I know."

He wasn't. He didn't—think he was. He… was, he realized, after a week of sitting with it, and a week after that it made sense. He didn't pick fights, and he didn't make waves. His rebellion was quiet. His hard head, forcing him to make his own space in the world. Not able to live up to Cordell and knowing instinctively that it would be awful even to try—and so taking the opposite turn, every time. It was better than being compared, even if he knew there was no chance but to be compared.

He studied hard. He read, all the time. He liked math and literature equally and did equally well in both. He hated P.E. but he did what he could there, too, and he learned to ride even if he didn't actually love horses the way the rest of the family did, and when Daddy asked if he wanted to join up with the little league baseball Liam asked to play soccer, instead, and Daddy frowned but Mama said, "Why not, I've seen enough boys drop foul balls for a lifetime." So, soccer, and most of his games were during the day or on Saturday mornings, but Cordi came to a lot of them anyway, and when Liam's team won Cordi would jump down onto the field and grab him up by the waist and crow David Beckham, right here! Little David Beckham for sale! Liam would struggle and then he'd be slung headfirst over Cordell's shoulder like a potato sack and his face would get so red from laughing that it hurt.

On September 12, 2001, Mama and Daddy were gone from the house when Liam got home from school and he was glad for it. That was a Wednesday. He was in sixth grade. The teachers weren't even trying to hold normal lessons and everyone was talking about what had happened the day before. Melissa Kettering was out that day and the rumor was that her dad had been on a business trip in New York. Liam had raised his hand and asked the social studies teacher if there was going to be a war, like there was after Pearl Harbor, and she sat down on her desk and shook her head and didn't answer.

He was trying to read his book for English when the phone rang. Cordell, calling from his apartment in town. Hey, buddy, he said, over the line, and Liam sat down on the floor by the phone table and closed his eyes, unaccountably almost about to cry. Is Daddy there? Liam told him he was home alone. Lucky, Cordi said, you can totally throw a rager, and Liam didn't laugh, and neither did Cordell, even though he always laughed at his own stupid jokes. Hey, um. I shouldn't—I don't know if I should tell you this but I've gotta tell someone, and Em's in class, and I just have to—I did something, and I need to—

He interrupted himself and Liam could hear him breathing over the line. He didn't want Cordell to say anything. If he didn't say anything then Liam could pretend that he was going to tell a story about some party they'd gone to at Emily's sorority, or that Hoyt had come back into town and they'd seen a show at ACL, or that he was gonna come stay that weekend, and maybe he and Liam would go riding. Anything but what he was about to say. Liam could hear it, in his head. He could hear it like it had already been said and it was echoing, now, inside, like a verse from a song he'd always, always remember.

Cordell graduated from the Marine boot camp on a Saturday in the middle of December. Liam went along even if he wasn't allowed to attend the actual ceremony and Daddy complained about the cost of the plane tickets until Mama told him to shut up. Liam sat between them on the flight and it was the first time he was ever in the air. Over the top of Mama's crossword book he watched the clouds go by over New Mexico, Arizona, with complete wonder. San Diego, then, different to Austin—palm trees, and the air so wet, and even the parking lot at their hotel smelling like warm flowers.

Mama gave him fifty dollars before they left for the graduation. They were bringing Cordell back, after, because they got one night with him before they had to give him back to the military. "Order a pizza," she said, "at 4:30 exactly, and we should get back at the same time the pizza comes so we can all eat together." Liam watched American Pie on the hotel tv while he waited, something he would never have been allowed at home. He made the call when he was supposed to, and when the girl on the phone asked him what toppings his mind went completely blank because he was never allowed to make that decision. Cordi liked ham and pineapple and none of the rest of them did. Liam ordered it with extra pineapple.

When a knock came on the hotel room door Liam jumped up to open it, cash in hand. The one holding the pizzas was Cordell, grinning at him with Mama and Daddy standing behind. "Pizza delivery," Cordell said, and Liam crashed into him for a hug so hard that Cordi almost dropped the boxes and said whoa, Stinker, soft and laughing.

His hair was cut off, an inch on top and shorter on the sides, so he looked like those pictures of their grandpa when he was in Korea. He was skinny, too, which Liam didn't get, because he thought boot camp was all about building up muscles. "Mostly running," Cordi said. He was tired, dark circles under his eyes. He was stretched out on one bed with his strange starched blue pants and the awful khaki shirt that made him look washed-out pale even if he'd been running around San Diego for thirteen weeks, and Mama was sat next to him squeezing his arm like he'd evaporate if she looked away for a minute, and even Daddy was hovering. Proud but worried. Liam sat by Cordell's boots and tugged on the laces, wanting to ask more questions but not daring to.

Cordi fell asleep before six o'clock. Daddy turned on the television real quiet to the news. More stuff about the invasion. Liam hoped it'd be all over by the time Cordi got there. Mama boxed up the remaining pizza, shaking her head. "Don't know why you picked pineapple, kiddo," she said, and Liam shrugged, sitting at the table, watching Cordell's face, turned away a little on the pillow. Liam wanted to shake him awake but of course he didn't. For his whole life, after, he gets a little sick to his stomach when he smells pineapple.

While Cordell was in Afghanistan Mama and Daddy had Emily over to the house a lot. She was sweet. Respectful of Mama, calling her ma'am half the time, and charming to their dad even though Liam knew that she and Daddy probably disagreed on more than things than not. She liked that Liam played soccer and asked if he ever watched the Premiere League. Liam didn't even know what that was. She helped Mama cook supper and went out and took pictures of the horses which made Daddy smile, and one time when Liam went outside after dinner to read she was there crying, on the porch, quiet with her hand over her mouth, and Liam hung back and didn't know what to say. "Sorry," she said, dashing at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. She licked her lips and nodded at his book, sniffing. "That's a good one. You should read the sequel, too." He did, and told her about it, and she smiled like a sunrise, the way she always did, and he felt like—he didn't even know, what he felt like.

Liam was the best man at their wedding. He felt and looked ridiculous. Fifteen in a tux and he didn't know how to tie a bow-tie, but Cordi didn't either, so Daddy had to do it for both of them, grumbling the whole time that they should've learned this by now. "Not a lot of bowties in Kandahar, Daddy," Cordell said, winking at Liam, and Liam—blushed. Ridiculous, and embarrassing, the way the whole affair and the lead-up had felt, but Cordell didn't seem to care or notice, so—there was Liam, blushing in a bowtie.

Cordell had only been back for a year and somehow things were off. He was serving the rest of his contract out in the reserves but he wasn't finishing up his degree like he'd told Mama he would. He'd entered the training program for the state troopers and was set up to be a highway cop, of all things. He'd rented a house in Austin with Emily and they lived together the whole year before the wedding—an argument with Daddy about that one, which Liam listened to from the hallway with his heart pounding—and they weren't even going to be married in the church because Emily didn't want a wedding mass and, Liam suspected, Cordell didn't either. Daddy lost that argument, too.

The wedding was tiny. Liam the best man, Geri the maid of honor. Emily's aunt that raised her on one side and Daddy and Mama on the other, and a handful of Cordell and Emily's friends making up the numbers in the little rented hall. Afterward they had a bigger barbecue out at the ranch and in front of the crowd Emily fed Cordell a dainty forkful of the lemon cake and Cordell responded by dotting a tiny bit of frosting on her nose and kissing it off, and Mama's best friend Sue-Ellen sighed and said to Mama, where Liam could hear, "Well, Abilene, maybe they're atheists but I daresay you raised that boy right every other way," and Mama said something dry back but Liam was watching how Cordell cupped Emily's cheek in his hand, smiling down at her like she hung the moon, and he thought, yeah. Yeah, Cordell was just about perfect, wasn't he.

"High school in the fall, right?" Emily's aunt said, later. "Emily says you play soccer. Going to try out for the team?"

Cordell and Emily were dancing, swaying in the grass, the bonfire leaping up behind them. His hand still on her cheek. "I'm quitting soccer," Liam said, without even realizing he was going to. "I'm going to try out for wrestling, instead."

He figured out he was gay relatively early. His friends at school got hold of a Playboy in fifth grade and didn't really know what to do with it beyond blustering. This was before anyone but nerds was on the internet, and Liam was a nerd but did a decent job of hiding it. Scott beckoned Liam over while they were waiting for the buses and showed him the top of the magazine, the bold logo and the girl with her boobs pushing up out of her bra—the group of them snickering, saying how hot she was—and that they were going to look at it at Scott's house later if Liam wanted to come over—and Liam said, "No, my mom's making me go to the store with her." The lie came out effortlessly.

They did have a computer at home, and dial-up internet it had been very, very hard to argue Daddy into. He hardly knew how to find anything but he did some careful searches while Daddy was out with the horses and Mama was cooking, singing bad over the stove like she tended to. Made Liam's face hot to see some of what he was seeing. Hoyt came over, once, while Cordi was away in the war, and he helped Liam and Mama dig out a bunch of tomatoes that hadn't grown in right, and afterward they sat on the porch drinking lemonade while Mama asked Hoyt all about the oil field he said he'd been working in and Liam watched how Hoyt's legs sprawled out on the porch, how his jeans hugged up against his calf muscle and how the sweat had made his white shirt nearly transparent, and he had to sit very careful on the bench with his knees drawn up to hide the effect it had on him.

When Cordell came home from Afghanistan they threw a huge party. Everyone came, Daddy's friends and Mama's, and Emily and their friends from college, and even Hoyt, magicked up out of somewhere (for the promise of free beer, Daddy said), and then Liam, the youngest person there, watching from the corner of the porch as always. Cordi was very tan and finally bulky with muscle and his hair had grown out, just a little, from that military buzz, and he barely detached himself from Emily the whole time, his arm always around her shoulders or hers around his waist, and when they did step apart his eyes followed her and she watched him right back, smiling at the most random times. Liam was fourteen and a little more aware of the world and he wondered abruptly if they'd had sex yet. Cordi had only been home one day and he'd slept at the ranch and not at Emily's apartment. How would they have found the time?

He was chewing his thumbnail over it when a sweaty weight crashed down on his shoulders, arms trapping his in. Hoyt. "Hey there, Stinker," Hoyt said, and Liam shrugged fretfully and said, "Don't call me that," and Hoyt laughed at him but stood up and ruffled Liam's hair completely backwards instead.

"Still pretty shrimpy," he said. He was grinning, like he had some big secret. "You planning on growing up anytime soon, champ?"

"Don't you have a sketchy job to get to?" Liam said, annoyed. He tried to fix his hair and gave it up as a lost cause the second Hoyt's grin got bigger. Asshole.

Hoyt sipped his beer. Twenty-one—he was allowed, although Liam had noticed that Mama was being a little free with handing out drinks to Emily's college friends. "Glad big bro's home, I bet," Hoyt said.

Liam didn't dignify that with a response. Hoyt laughed, under his breath, and held out the beer for Liam to take, which he did because he didn't know what else to do. "Go on," Hoyt said, nodding at it. "I won't tell your mama. Not fair that everyone else gets to celebrate while little Liam's sober. And boring."

"I'm not boring," Liam said, although he knew he was because half the kids at school clearly thought so. He took a sip of the beer, anyway, not knowing if Hoyt would snatch it away. Nasty, and he made a face that made Hoyt hoot, and then he took a bigger gulp, determined at least to get something out of it.

"There he goes," Hoyt said, weirdly delighted, and he clapped Liam on the shoulder the same way he would Cordi when they were in high school, and the bit of warm in Liam's belly went lower. "That's a welcome home."

Liam kept the beer, curled against his chest. He felt dumb holding it and also weirdly adult. "He's not even here," he said. Sort of scoffing. "Doesn't matter."

Hoyt curled his arm around Liam's shoulders again and ignored how he went stiff, and nodded out at the party. Music playing from a radio Daddy had set up on a truck-bed. Emily and Cordell, dancing in the firelight. Same as it would be for the wedding reception a year from then, although of course Liam didn't know that at the time. "Aw, he's here," Hoyt said. He squeezed Liam's shoulders. He smelled strange, like—skunk, and Mama's compost bin. It was gross but also kind of appealing and Liam shifted, hoping his dumb body wouldn't react. "He's just with his girl, and who could blame him. No call for getting jealous."

He wasn't jealous. Not—exactly. That night after Mama and Daddy went to bed the party kept on, and Liam went to his room and watched from the dark window, the bonfire still going and all the college kids still going, too. When he finally fell asleep he had a strange, blurry dream about Hoyt—building a bonfire together, and Hoyt smiling at him and being a jackass and then touching his face, the same way Cordell touched Emily's face, and then Hoyt touching his stomach, low—and then the dream shifted, the weird way dreams shift, and it was Cordell, touching his stomach, and smiling at him, and leaning in close—with his hair longer like it was before he enlisted—but wearing for some reason the dumb khaki shirt of his uniform—and then Cordell's hand—

When he woke up he was soaked and it was bright morning. He washed his underwear out in the sink, feeling like his head was screwed on to someone else's body, and then he hid the underwear in the hamper, and showered, and tried not to think about it. He had that dream or one like it on and off for years, until he finally lost his virginity to Michael in college and it went away. He never told his therapist about it, or Bret, or anyone. He could rationalize it but he couldn't ever acknowledge it out loud because of what it—felt like, to think about it. To make it real in a place that wasn't just his stupid, crazy, dreaming head.

He had the dream again the night before he came out to his parents. January 2nd, trying out his new year's resolution of honesty. He figured in a ruthless sort of way that if his parents kicked him out or hated him or tried to change him then at least he had early acceptance at UT for the fall and a full scholarship and it was just eight months where his life would be completely over.

Cordell was at home on the ranch and Liam figured that's what triggered it. A couple days of vacation, since he'd worked over Christmas, and he and Emily and baby Stella had stayed up for ringing in the new year, and everyone had taken turns kissing Stella's forehead when midnight struck. Liam had been allowed a glass of champagne, Mama not even fussing about it since it was a holiday and the house was full—so he had two glasses—and when he went to bed he could still hear Cordell laughing from the front room, telling Daddy some story about a bust on the highway, something about stolen Santa suits, something light.

He dreamed they were swimming, up at the lake, and Cordell was naked. Laughing, that same too-loud booming laugh, but just because he was happy and not like he was making fun. Being kind to Liam. Holding him from behind with his arms around Liam's chest, their legs slipping together in the water. Liam could imagine what it would be like for a man to do something to him, he'd seen porn by that point, and he'd seen Cordell naked too because of the vagaries of living in an old house without a lock on the bathroom door, but somehow there was still a disconnect in his head. He was turned on beyond belief but nothing—happened, just the vagueness of Cordell behind him. His big hands.

Mama took Emily and the baby in to town, that day, for shopping. Daddy said they'd just bought half of Macy's and Mama shushed him so Daddy was up at the barn, checking over the new foal. Liam sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched birds come to the new feeder Mama had got from Emily and he tried to rehearse it, in his head. What to say. He'd seen it in movies but it didn't feel possible to come out of his mouth.

Cordell sat by him, on the bench swing. "Since when do you drink coffee?" he said. Then, less casual: "Is that my mug?"

"Yes," Liam said, and didn't protest when Cordell took it out of his hands. He rubbed his palms on his jeans. He had a hard time talking to Cordi after he had one of those dreams and so it was a relief that most of the time Cordell wasn't around, that he was in town at the house he shared with his wife. With his wife, Liam reminded himself, as though that could help. Another thing to make Liam different. Wrestling instead of football, reading books instead of riding, and now—this, on top of everything.

"Whatever's going on," Cordell said. Liam blinked, came back to the world. The cold, and the swing barely rocking from how Cordi had set his boot on the porch and pushed, and Cordell looking at him very steadily. "You know you can tell me, right?"

Liam swallowed. "Even if it's—" Bad is what came to his mouth and he shook his head. He prayed about this, he resolved. It's not bad. "Weird?"

"If it weren't weird you probably wouldn't be being so weird about it," Cordi said, frank, and Liam shoved his shoulder. The dream dissipated just like that. How could he possibly be crushing on his brother when his brother is this much of a jerk. Cordell swayed, grinning, letting Liam push him even if Cordell outweighed him then by fifty pounds, but then he set his hand on the back of Liam's neck, more serious. "Whatever it is. We can figure it out."

Liam licked his lips, and nodded. He knew then that was going to tell Cordell the one secret, if not the whole of it, before they left the porch that morning, and Cordi would—back him up, with Mama and Daddy, even if he didn't get it. "Give me back the coffee," he said, and Cordell raised his eyebrows but passed it back, so Liam could take a gulp. The caffeine probably wouldn't help but maybe it wouldn't hurt, and it felt nice to hold the mug. "Promise you won't freak," Liam said then, even if he was—mostly, ninety percent, pretty sure—and Cordell said, immediately, "I promise," and Liam believed him. That was the thing, with Cordell, in those days. It was easy to believe him.

It's Mama who calls, when Emily dies. Liam's already in bed because he's got court in the morning and Bret shoves at his shoulder, says, "Oh my god answer it and then change your ringtone, I hate that song," and Liam's still fuzzy from sleep and doesn't quite process that there's no good reason Mama would be calling him after nine o'clock in Texas because she always thought that was bad manners, it had been drilled into him all his life, and he says, mumbly, still waking up, "Hey, Mama," and there's a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line before she says, Honey, I'm sorry, but I have real bad news.

He flies out the next day. Bret tries to dissuade him. "There's nothing you can do right now," he says, as though that's the point. JFK to Austin-Bergstrom is four and a half hours and he spends the whole time with his chest this weird achy knot. It doesn't feel real but it is. He texted Mama his flight plan and she says that Daddy will pick him up at the airport, and when he gets into the truck Daddy shakes his head and says, "Good to see you, son," but without any truth to it. Liam doesn't take it personally.

Cordell's not at the ranch when they get there but the kids are. "Hi, Uncle Liam," Stella says, remarkably clear, until he hugs her, and then she curls his hands into his shirt and cries silently, her shoulders shaking. August doesn't get up from the couch, sitting there with one arm crossed over his chest and the other over his mouth, and he looks—Liam's always shocked by it—so exactly like his mother. Stella's a copy of her grandmother, to the point that Mama set her prom picture side by side with Stella's first dance photo and the only real difference was the dress—but Auggie always took after Emily, from coloring to temperament to those long straight eyebrows, that mouth that curves up into a wide, easy smile. Not smiling now, and not for a while, and when Stella pulls away and wipes her eyes Liam sits down next to Auggie and sets his hand on the back of his neck and Auggie just folds over, quiet, like whatever was holding him up just isn't there anymore.

"Where is he?" Liam asks Mama, in the kitchen later. The sun's going down. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours.

Mama's eyes are red-rimmed. "Where do you think?" she says.

Liam takes the truck. Lady Bird Lake is officially closed at night but of course that makes no difference. He parks and walks, up to the lookout, and Cordell doesn't hear him coming. He's sitting on the steps to the gazebo, his elbows braced on his knees. The light hitting his hair. Long again. Liam doesn't know how he's always skirting regs and getting away with it, except of course Cordi gets away with everything. Golden child.

He regrets the thought as soon as he has it. "Cordi," he says, and Cordell looks up in complete surprise. Liam smiles at him, as much as he can, and comes and sits on the step. He tries to think of what to say and can't come up with anything.

"Aren't you in court tomorrow?" Cordell says, after they sit there for thirty seconds. His voice sounds thick and distant.

Liam shakes his head. "Today," he says, and Cordell nods and huffs and says, "Right," and then looks down at his hands again. They're twisted together, his thumb rubbing hard and repeatedly at the mount of his other palm. Liam reaches over and puts his hand over the knot of Cordell's fingers and Cordell's jaw flexes but he lets Liam do it. "I'm sorry," Liam says.

"Everyone is," Cordell says, halfway bitter. Liam squeezes his hands and Cordell makes a rough low noise, some sound Liam has never heard him make. "Jesus. They won't let me go in to work."

"Of course they won't," Liam says, and Cordell pulls his hands away, pushes them into his hair. "Cordi, they have to—they're going to be looking for who did it and it has to be by the books so it'll stick. They're not going to risk screwing it up."

"I just want to—" Cordell cuts himself off but Liam can imagine what goes there. He touches Cordell's back instead and the muscle flinches. Set to fly off the handle any second. Fight or flight, but Cordell never used to run from anything and Liam can't imagine he's going to start now.

He stands up. "Wrestle me," he says.

Cordell looks up. "What?"

Genuine surprise. At least it's not misery. "Come on," Liam says. "See if you can pin me." These jeans are nice, were a gift from Bret, but he'll sacrifice them. He holds out a hand and Cordell lets himself be pulled upright, and it's a shock like it always is when Liam's been too long away, how much taller Cordi still is. Liam always was the shrimp. He pushes Cordell's chest, lightly, and Cordell slaps his hands away. "Cordi," Liam says, coaxing, and pulls at Cordell's wrist. "Let me take your mind off it."

Stupid thing to say and he knows it as soon as he says it. Cordell gives him an ugly look and shoves him for real. "Take my mind off it?" he says, while Liam's staggering backwards. Liam sets his boots in the dirt and braces, and when Cordell pushes him again Liam grapples, and they are wrestling, then. It's sloppy, bad holds, both of them in too-slick boots for this ground. Liam manages to swing Cordell around and get his back on the ground but Cordi's always been stronger and shoves him off, and then they're just—flat-out scrambling, Liam's hand sinking into a patch of mud and both of them breathing hard, Cordell twisting out of his grip and getting an arm over his chest, tight, before Liam eels over and flips them—gets Cordell on his back on the dirt—his leg over Cordell's—and then Cordi drops his head back against the ground and taps out, panting.

"You been practicing?" Cordell says. His eyes are closed.

Liam sits up, says, "Class at my gym." Cordi nods and Liam gets off him, kneels next to him in the dirt. The gazebo's bright and the skyline's pretty, on the other side of the lake. Liam looks at that instead of at his brother, so he won't have to see the tears seeping down Cordell's temples, wetting his hair.

"It's not okay," Liam says. He sets a hand on Cordell's chest. At the DA's office in Manhattan he's comforted widows, widowers, orphans. Some of them seeking justice but most of them knowing it won't really be found. Cordell, he thinks, is one of the latter type, but Liam tries out the lines he's learned anyway. "It's not okay and it's not fair. I can't pretend I know what you're going through but I'm sorry." He swallows, his throat trying to close without his say-so. "Jesus. I'm so sorry, Cordi."

"Yeah," Cordell says, rough, and grips Liam's wrist. When Liam looks down Cordell's eyes are still closed. They stay there for a while, by the lake, long past when it's uncomfortable.

When they finally get up, Liam's knees creak like an old man's but Cordell doesn't make the joke he should. He leaves Cordell's truck and drives them both back into town, and gets drive-through Whataburger that Cordell picks at instead of eating, and says, "Do you want to go back to the ranch?" and isn't surprised when Cordell shakes his head, no. They get a hotel instead, two queens and a respectable mini-bar, and Liam calls Mama from next to the ice machine in the hall and says that he's got Cordell, and they're fine, and they'll be back in the morning. She clearly wants to object but doesn't know how and Liam hangs up before she can figure it out.

He gets back, with the ice. Cordell's sitting on the end of the bed watching the news like it's the Superbowl. "I was thinking about the funeral," Cordell says, when the door closes behind Liam. "I have to plan the funeral and I don't even have her body."

Liam sets the bucket on the bar and sits on the other bed. "We'll help," Liam says. Cordell's cheek sucks in on one side. "You don't have to do any of this alone."

"Yeah," Cordell says, remote, and Liam looks at him. Weird hollowness in his stomach and he realizes only after a second why: it's the first time, all his life, that he can remember Cordell lying to him.

The Rodeo Kings operation is supposed to be quick. Three months, is the estimate: to get in, to learn the operation, to get out. They need an agent who can be convincingly skilled as a traveling rider, who knows a ranch operation, who can act. There's a depressingly short list and one name at the top of it. Everyone thinks it's a bad idea except for Graves, and Cordell.

"It'll give me something to think about that's not this," Cordell says, when Liam's trying to talk him out of it. They're on the back patio of his and Emily's house in town. The kids are still staying out at the ranch. It's two weeks after the funeral and they haven't gone back to school. Cordell hasn't shaved in a few days and the sound as he scratches his jaw is loud. There's no music playing from the kitchen window, like there used to be. The plants out here are already dying. Liam wants to grip Cordell's shoulders, get in his face and yell, but doesn't dare to. He gets a deep sigh, instead, and Cordell flipping a poker chip between his fingers like a restless card shark, and then a smile, fake as fake. "Anyway, who do you know who can ride a bull better than me?"

"No one," Liam says, and Cordell nods, like damn straight, and in the morning Liam goes in to the Travis County DA and announces he'd like to transfer offices, due to a family emergency that's going to keep him here in Texas, and it's only afterward when some calls are made and the paperwork's signed that he calls Bret, back in Manhattan, and leaves a voicemail that he's going to be staying a lot longer than he thought.

It isn't three months. As the operation drags on, Liam sweet-talks his way into being one of the assistant attorneys on the case and he tries to alleviate how Graves is getting more and more suspicious. Cordell's old partner James gets promoted to captain, six months in, and he vouches for Cordell, too, not that it seems to matter either way. Cordell's the one who's embedded with the rodeo and he'll either finish the job or he won't. They don't have another agent to send in, not without compromising the work that's been done so far, and nothing else will do but to wait.

The kids ask Liam for updates every week when he comes for dinner at the ranch. "I can't tell you everything," he says, like he does every time, and Daddy's quiet at the head of the table, and Mama quieter on the opposite side. Cordell has a rendezvous every Monday when the rodeo takes the day off with a burner cell phone and an agent waiting impatiently for his call, and his reports are terse: still trying to get them to trust me. They're suspicious of newcomers. The ring seems really tight and I can't figure out an opening. Give me time. He's allowed to call Liam the same day and Liam answers every unknown number on Mondays, giving hope to spam callers nationwide. Cordell usually sounds tired but he still calls and they have a dumb, simple conversation—about how the Rangers beat the Angels, how he's breaking in some new boots and has a blister the size of Indiana, how he's craving, inexplicably, sushi. "Sushi?" Liam asks, trying to imagine when Cordell ever tried it, and Cordi says, with rare humor, "Hey, I'm not a big fancy New York lawyer but I've had my share of raw fish," and when Liam hands the phone over to the kids they lean over the speakerphone and talk over the top of each other about a class project Stella did, and a history paper Auggie got an A+ on, and Liam watches with his hand over his mouth for the moment when Cordell has to interrupt and say, tired-sounding still, "Sorry, guys, I have to go," and the goodbyes have to be quick, and then that's it, for another week.

The first time Liam sees him when he's Duke it's a shock to the system. Seven months in and the reporting agent says that Walker missed his check-in. Walker—that's what they all call him, even when Liam's in the room with them. There's a small frenzy in the operation office. Graves calls for Cordell's head, predictably at this point. James, trying again to calm her down, but looking a little like he agrees. Liam leaves the office unnoticed and walks outside to feel cold air on his face and feel less—how he feels—and there's a text, on his phone, from an unknown number. The Alibi, Driskill ST, thirty minutes. Come alone.

Ridiculously illicit. Liam takes off his suit-jacket and tie and ruffles his hair into something unprofessional and goes. It's hard to park—Monday night football—and inside is the opposite of his scene but he finds a seat at the bar. A girl in a too-tight orange t-shirt gives him a once-over and he smiles tightly, ignores her, drinks a watery beer, and almost exactly on the thirty-minute mark someone sits down next to him and it's—not his brother.

Duke Culpepper was the fake name they picked. Originally from Texas but had some misdemeanors that made Texas unfriendly so he'd been hiding out in Tucson for a few years, working the rodeo there. Not dangerous but willing to get up to something that was, and he looks the part. He smells like sweat and horse manure and hay and some shitty, awful aftershave, and there's a bruise on his jaw like someone suckerpunched him, and he doesn't look at Liam but smiles sweet at the bartender and says, with a fake low drawl, "Darlin', I wouldn't mind a shot of bourbon, when you have a chance."

Jesus, Liam thinks. The bartender has an expression like Cordell slid a hand down the front of her jeans and made her the happiest woman alive—the shot takes about ten seconds to arrive, when Liam's been waiting for a second beer for five minutes. Cordell knocks it back in one motion and says, "Again, and—" and he turns, like he noticed Liam for the first time, "another round for my friend, here. We're celebratin'."

She blinks, notices Liam's empty glass. While the next round's being prepared Liam raises his eyebrows and plays his part. "What are we celebrating?"

"Got a new job," Cordell says—but no—it's Duke, who's saying it, Duke who's drawling lazy and has his hat cocked at an off-angle and who's got a bandana tied around his wrist which for some goddamn reason is working the whole, hot-ass look.

"Congrats," the bartender says, and Duke grins wide and winks at her and downs the second shot, letting out a little whoop. "Another?"

"Better make it a double this time, sweetheart," Duke says, and Liam puts his hand on the warm lean stretch of thigh knocking against his under the bar and squeezes, very lightly, a warning, and sees Cordell's eyes tighten just slightly, and sees how his shoulders round out, like he's ready to get in a fight. Cordell takes a deep breath and toasts the bartender, but turns to look at Liam, face a grinning glad mask. "Got a new girl, too. Real pretty."

The bartender's disappointment would be funny, any other time. "Your lucky day, then, huh?" Liam says. Cordell's knee presses hard into his under the bar. "Girl got a name?"

"Miss Twyla Jean," Cordell says, almost crooning it, and Liam raises his eyebrows—he thought they had embarrassing Texas names—and then Cordell downs the double-shot, grimacing at the sting, and then says, much quieter so that only Liam can hear: "All it took was me making it eleven seconds on a bull and she took me straight to bed."

Liam takes a deep breath. Cordell's jaw flexes, in the silence, and he puts the empty shot glass on the bar. "Thanks for celebrating with me," he says, and slides off the barstool, backwards. He grips Liam's shoulder so hard that it actually hurts. "Gotta get back. Job won't do itself."

"Godspeed," Liam says, toasting with his beer, and Cordell gives him a tight smile and tugs his cap and walks out of the bar, taking with him the smell of the stables and his too-tight jeans and this sensation under Liam's gut that's murky and dangerous, unsettled. His shoulder hurts. It's only after he's written down Twyla Jean's name and texted it to James, and gone home to the apartment where Bret's still bitching about the décor, and taken a shower, and pressed his forehead against the cold tile, that he realizes that Cordell was wearing a fucking Texas Rangers cap. The absolute bastard.

The night he hears from Cordell again he has a fight with Bret. The same fight, worked over the same way. Bret hates Texas. He hates being away from his friends. He hates the politics and the food and how Liam's always with his family. He doesn't want to go to family dinner at the ranch because he's sure Liam's dad hates him. "He doesn't hate you," Liam says, for the fifth time, but to be honest he's not sure. Daddy never seems to like Bret that much, either. Cordi's never met him and Liam wonders, like he's wondered many times, if they'd get along, at all. Wonders if that'd be a dealbreaker and then wonders, washing dishes while Bret watches MSNBC in chilly silence, if the fact that he's wondering if it would be a dealbreaker makes it a dealbreaker, after all.

The text comes as a relief. Annunziata's. He dresses down more carefully than the first time. It's a weird spot, on the outskirts of town where it feels less like Austin than like a suburb. Karaoke and Italian food and mostly-fake cowboys slapping their knees to the absolutely horrific song being sung—very suburb. And there, at a table right by what passes for a stage: Cordell. But, no: Duke, Duke Culpepper, with his arm slung around the shoulders of Twyla Jean and his lips on her ear, grinning, wild. It catches Liam's breath like it did the first time. Duke, confident in his body and happy and having a good time, easy. Hot. Jesus, Liam doesn't get how it's so hot.

He waits in the backroom and watches Cordell shoves his face into the water. It's disturbing how panicked he is, once he's Cordell again and not Duke. "You have to," he's saying—babbling—"You have to tell them, they're going to kill people, you can't let them go through with it—" but of course that's not either of their decision and Liam can't help. It's awful, an awful awful feeling. His big brother looking to him for an answer he can't give. Cordell pushes his hair back from his face and puts his hat back on and looks miserable but he goes back, he sits right back down with that girl and lets her slide her hand down his thigh up the inseam of his jeans and Liam watches from the corner of the bar, where he won't be seen, drinking a beer he doesn't want, seeing his brother be someone who's not his brother. Maybe someone his brother could have been. They're going to sleep together, tonight. Liam knows it. They've been fucking for three months. Is it easy, he wonders. It shouldn't be, for Cordell, but maybe for Duke it is.

He goes home to Bret and wakes him up, and apologizes for the earlier fight, and kisses him, and gets Bret on his belly, and fucks him that way, a little hard, kissing the back of his neck, making Bret gasp and flinch and groan, delighted. "Where did that come from," Bret says, lazy and satisfied, and when he falls asleep Liam takes a shower and then only then calls James, from the hall outside their apartment door, leaning with his forehead against the wall. The bank location has been obvious since Cordell reported about Twyla Jean; the only thing that wasn't certain was the time. It'll be fine, James says, firm, and hangs up on Liam to coordinate with the rest of the team now that Agent Walker has finally come back in from the cold, and Liam stands there with his eyes closed in the hall and thinks, yes. Yes, it'll be fine.

After the bank—after the clean-up—Graves debriefs Cordell for a long time. It borders on unlawful interrogation at a certain point but Liam doesn't dare intervene when she's this furious—he can't risk being taken off the case. It takes James making a call to her supervisor at the field office, who then calls her and pulls her out of the room, for Cordell to be given a reprieve, and Liam goes in to the conference room and finds Cordell still in the stupid black hoodie stained with Crystal West's blood, his head in his hands, breathing with his mouth open like he can't get enough air.

"Cordi," Liam says, and Cordell shakes his head. Liam licks his lips and checks the hall. No one's guarding them��they wouldn't, because Walker's one of their own—and he says, "Get up." Cordell looks up at him, finally. "Come on, quick before she gets back. Come with me."

Cordell follows him. Down the hall, left to go through the atrium instead of the bullpen, then through the glass doors to the hall to, at last, the men's room, and Cordell stands in the middle of the tile blinking until Liam nods at the sinks and says, "Do it."

He's sloppier about it, this time. His hair hangs dripping in front of his face. He pushes it off his forehead and looks up at himself, in the mirror, panting a little. Water drips off his nose.

Liam brings him paper towels and he dries his face. "You should take that off," Liam says, and Cordell looks down at his clothes like he has no idea what he's wearing and only just realized, and tears off the hoodie in an awkward tangle. Underneath his t-shirt is black so Liam can't tell if it's stained. The big silver cross swings from his neck.

"What happened," Cordell says. A croak.

"Graves didn't tell you?" Liam says, and then bites his tongue. Obviously not. "Clint and Crystal are both dead. Clint at the bank. Crystal crashed the car. They think she passed out. Blood loss." Cordell nods, tight, looking away. These are his friends, Liam reminds himself. These are the people he knew, the only people he really talked to, for almost a year. "Two more people died at the bank. Twyla wasn't there and we don't have information to tie her to the job. I don't know where Jaxon is but we have people looking. They're still trying to recover the stolen money."

"Graves did tell me that much," Cordell says, and turns around, leaning his ass against the sink. It's slowly draining, behind him. "I think she wants to arrest me since she can't arrest them."

"I think so, too," Liam says, and Cordell smiles a little. He looks like he hasn't slept all year. "You did your job. It's over."

"It's not over," Cordell says, immediately. He drags his hand through his hair. "Graves made that clear. The money's still missing and Twyla and Jax are in the wind."

"And Duke's being sent to jail," Liam says. "So his part in the Rodeo Kings gang is over."

Cordell wipes his fingers over his mouth. He's still wearing that bandana around his wrist. Liam wants to take it off of him. Throw it away, burn it. "Duke Culpepper, common criminal," Cordell says, drawling it a little.

"Never liked him anyway," Liam says, and Cordell smiles, dropping his head. Liam touches his shoulder, grips his neck. "Hey. Means you get to come home. The kids will be over the moon."

"Yeah," Cordell says. He brackets a loose hand around Liam's wrist and nods. "Yeah. Can't wait."

His smile faded, as soon as Liam said it. Liam thinks about that, for that whole night, and for the whole next day, after, when James tells him that Cordell put in for one week's leave. "You talked to him?" Liam says, and James shakes his head, says, "He called Connie. I think he still doesn't even know I'm the captain."

He tells Mama and Daddy that Cordell will be home next Wednesday. Stella's frowning, not eating her dinner. "I saw that bank robbery on the news," she says. Auggie's big-eyed, watching, next to her. "Was that Dad's big case?"

"It was," Liam says, and Auggie's eyes get bigger. "But there's a debriefing period. We need to make sure his undercover identity doesn't have any loose ends that'll tie him back to his real one."

Daddy's eyes narrow and Mama's quiet. Liam got pretty good at lying, over the years, but he never was quite able to fool them.

He calls Cordell the next day. "Tell me where you are," he says, and Cordell doesn't answer for a long moment, letting the silence stretch out over the cell line. Liam considers it a victory that he even answered the phone.

He has a room at the Fairmont, on the fifteenth floor. Liam knocks and it's a minute before the door opens. Cordell's in bare feet, jeans, an ACL t-shirt. Liam follows him in and the room is—nicer than Liam's current apartment, that's for sure. King bed, outstanding view. "Wow," Liam says, and Cordell says, "Better than the Super 8 in Kermit," sort of sarcastic, and then sits down on the bed like he can't stand up anymore.

Liam doesn't sit. He doesn't think he's really invited, even if Cordell let him in the door. "I told them next Wednesday," he said. "Mom and Dad, and the kids. A week. Do you think that'll be enough time?"

"Honestly?" Cordell says, and doesn't elaborate.

There's a table, with four chairs, like a dining area. On it a box, like one of the evidence boxes from the office. Liam walks over and tips back the lid and: there's Duke Culpepper. The striped shirt he wore when Liam met him at Annunziata's. That was—god, only three days ago. A plastic bottle of aftershave. The cross necklace. The gun. Liam picks it up and checks the revolving chamber—that one bullet, still ready. It makes him nauseous just like it did the first time.

"I know you're probably not okay," Liam says. Understatement, he thinks, of the century. He closes the box and pushes it away, toward the center of the table. When he turns around Cordell's holding the beer in one hand and playing with a poker chip, in the other. "I know you're going to need some time. But when you're done, we need you back. The kids, and Mom and Dad. And me."

"C'mon, you don't need anybody, Stinker," Cordell says, with the barest thread of levity. "You climb right up to the top of the barn all by yourself, when no one's around to stop you."

Liam pauses, confused by the subject change. Surprised, then. "You were there for that?" he says, and Cordell shrugs, one corner of his mouth lifting.

When Liam was eleven, and Cordell was at college, and the world hadn't yet turned over on its head. It was early August and his school hadn't started, and Daddy and Mama had gone over to the feed store to pick up a truckload for the horses. He was bored, and tired of reading, and he'd gone out to the barn and looked up at it and thought about how Cordell had done it, at his age or maybe even younger, and if Cordell could then Liam could, too, if he set his mind to it. It wasn't even all that hard, once he was looking careful for the places to set his feet. He sat down on the top of the barn and looked out over the ranch—and further, over the where the road into the ranch pushed out into the hills, down toward the town. He wondered how far he could really see, to the horizon.

"Swung by to pick up my football stuff," Cordell says, now. "Em parked on the other side of the house and I didn't think anyone was home, until I looked out the back. You were up there just—taller than anything." He shrugs. "See? Didn't need my help after all."

"I wouldn't have climbed it if you hadn't dropped me on my head," Liam says, and Cordell snorts, shakes his head. Liam bites the inside of his cheek and crouches, and Cordell's forced to look at him or be ridiculous and so Cordell looks at him. Liam reaches out and gets his hand, the hand with the poker chip, and squeezes it, and Cordell swallows and squeezes back. The edges of the plastic bite into Liam's hand. "Come back," he says.

Cordell takes a deep breath. "I will," he says. "I promise, Liam."

Liam stands up and hugs him, around the shoulders, and walks out of the room. He takes the elevator back to the lobby and steps out into the sunshine, and takes a deep breath, and calls Bret to arrange lunch. Cordell's promises. Fifty-fifty, anymore, that it ends up being true. Liam decides to believe him. He's hardheaded. He might as well be hardheaded and optimistic about it.

#ffcc #walker #walker texas ranger #walker fic #my writing #if anyone ever needed an in-depth character study of liam #...here it is

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