#or even better i can suck him off while sitting criss-cross applesauce
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Into The Unknown, Part 6
First
Previous
Marinette woke up because of a whack to the face. So that was fun.
She blinked her eyes open and was met with a scowling, squirming baby.
She sighed and considered letting the baby squirm for a little so she could get another few minutes of sleep…
Oh. Right. He cried in the morning. An unfortunate thing to forget about.
She grumbled a quiet “fuck” as Damian started screaming.
“Tim, your turn.”
Tim grumbled incoherently and attempted to disappear in the plush mattress.
She considered kicking him to wake him up but decided against it. She was feeling nice that morning.
(Also, she figured that kicking a half-awake vigilante might end badly for her.)
She shrugged Tim’s arm off and then tumbled out of bed, baby securely wrapped in her arms. She laid flat on the ground, baby raised in the air above her like a less cute version of That One Scene from The Lion King. She squinted up at the screaming child, struggling to get her brain to function, and then sighed.
“Right, let’s get you all changed, huh? Clean diaper? Pretty new clothes? Will that calm you down?”
She really didn’t know why she was talking to him, she doubted the kid really understood what she was saying, but his wailing was starting to die down a little. She hoped it was because she was using her nice voice and not because he was straining his vocal cords.
She smoothed out his hair and then pushed herself to her feet.
After she had changed the kid’s diaper, she spread all of his clothes out on the floor in a loose circle (it kind of looked like an egg, but at least an attempt was made).
She set the baby down in the middle of the egg and stepped back.
He looked up at her, confused.
She motioned to the clothes. “Go ahead. Yakhtar.”
There was a few minutes where the baby continued looking at her, clearly expecting something but she had no clue what.
Then, finally, he looked around at the clothes.
He crawled over to a yellow shirt with a cartoon bee on it that she had paired with some black and white striped leggings and slapped it a few times. He babbled angrily at her.
… did that mean he wanted it or that it was out of the running?
… she was going to assume that he wanted it.
She picked up him with one arm and the outfit with the other -- something made very difficult by the fact that Damian was now slapping his little fists against her shoulder in an attempt to be let down -- and then started the process of getting the kid into the clothes.
“You know, he probably would have been fine with anything you picked.”
She glanced up from where she was trying to shove Damian’s pudgy little baby arm into a sleeve. Tim was sitting up in bed, legs crossed criss-cross applesauce and head propped on his hand. An amused smile played at his lips.
She rolled her eyes and looked back down at Damian so she could complete her grueling task. “Probably. But I’d just keep dressing him up in red and black and, apparently, he doesn’t want that.”
“Don’t know why. Red and black are objectively the best colors.”
“Totally,” she said.
Damian babbled angrily some more and attempted to punch her arm. She tried not to show on her face just how much it had hurt.
“I guess yellow is pretty okay,” Tim said, grinning.
“Eh. Yellow is like… the fifth best color. Green is where it’s at.”
Tim made a face. “Ew. Green?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not allowed to talk about what looks good. You had a completely brown suit for ages. Terrible, isn’t that right, Dami?”
Damian clearly had no idea what was going on, he was busy trying to help Marinette pull his pants up (he was accidentally pushing them down but it was the thought that counts… she was pretty sure, at least), but he nodded decisively.
Marinette turned her head away from Tim and Damian, lips pressed together thinly to keep her laughter under control, before she turned back and finished the kid’s outfit.
“See, Tim, even the baby agrees.”
Tim scoffed. “He agrees with everything you say.”
“Because I’m always right.” She leaned forward to nuzzle her nose against Damian’s with a bright smile. “I can already tell you’re going to be the best kid. Isn’t that right?”
Damian giggled.
~
Tim held the baby as they checked out at 10:55. Usually, he would try to be earlier, but… baby.
Yeah. That was all he needed to say about that.
(If you want to know: Damian had finally managed to succeed in his attempts to fall from a high place, effectively scaring the shit out of both of the teens who were taking care of him. They’d checked him over for any injuries -- it was more difficult than usual, they couldn’t tell him to clench and unclench his fists to make sure they weren’t broken. When they were sure he was okay they took a few moments to hug him and assure themselves that it was fine and that babies were flexible for this exact reason… unfortunately, this ended with the kid learning that falling from high places=hugs and was now, somehow, even more determined to do it.)
Marinette turned to him with a smile.
“Do you want to get the car or do you want to get the baby’s carseat?”
Tim thought for a minute before sighing. “Would you make fun of me if I picked out a stupid-looking carseat?”
“Absolutely.”
He rolled his eyes and handed off the baby like he was a baton in a very weird relay race. “No thanks. I’ll get the car.”
She grinned. “Probably a good idea. Right, see you.”
“Get some baby formula while you’re out.”
Marinette looked down at the kid, eyes wide. “Still?” Then she shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”
He tossed the bag of diapers and stuff to her and, with that, they started off in separate directions.
He picked up a rental car from Enterprise. They offered the ability to pay a little extra to leave the car at another location. He doubted that that was in place for things like moving across the country but he wasn’t about to complain.
But, when he picked up Marinette and Damian outside the door and caught sight of the carseat she’d gotten, he absolutely would complain.
“Spiderman?” He said.
“Technically, he’s ArachnidKid, here.”
He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her.
She had the decency to look a little sheepish. “He screamed every time I tried to choose anything else.”
Tim sighed and knocked his head against the top of the steering wheel a few times before turning around.
“I’ll deal with the kid while you figure out the thing.”
… or, at least, that was the intention. It turns out that baby carseats are… difficult. They’d pulled into a spot and gave Damian his stuffed cow and a phone to distract him and they’d gotten to work. There were two adults and two magical beings trying to figure it out and not a single one of them had any idea what they were doing. The instructions made absolutely no sense, they may as well have been written in Greek -- except they all knew how to speak and read Greek because of magic. But this shit? Illegible. It was like the written version of baby language. No one knows what was going on, he was beginning to think that the people trying to give them instructions didn’t even know. Tikki was puzzling over the instructions despite this, Marinette was having a breakdown, Tim wanted to be back in his world so he could punch someone, Kaalki was in the process of being eaten by Damian. It was chaos.
~
They were on the road. Marinette lazed in the passenger seat, feet up on the dashboard as she half-listened to the audiobook Tim had put on -- something about a kid who stole lightning or something (she didn’t see the big deal, it wasn’t like it was hard or anything). Tikki and Kaalki were using her headphones to listen to music. Damian had fallen asleep and was now peacefully sucking on one of the horns of the cow plush.
(He’d, apparently, dubbed the plush ‘Cow’. It was a fitting name, she supposed.)
Tim glanced over at her. “If we get in a crash you’re going to fly through the windshield.”
She lifted the cheap heart-shaped sunglasses she’d bought on impulse while waiting for Tim to show up out of boredom. Just so he could see how unimpressed she was.
“Maybe you should drive well so I don’t have to worry.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. She saw the speedometer drop a bit regardless.
~
They stopped for food pretty soon after they started on the road. Funny how quickly a day could go by, it was already noon.
They ended up at Carl's Sr., because that was what they had found first.
He bounced Damian on one knee absently. The kid wasn’t thirsty, it seemed, so they were just trying to keep him entertained while they ate. He didn’t know why they bothered, the kid was currently entertaining himself with nothing but a rubber duck.
Marinette nibbled the last of her sandwich. “I wonder if he can have fries.”
“Fy!” Said Damian, who had apparently learned that ‘he’ usually meant him.
“Well, he’s convinced me,” she said.
Tim rolled his eyes. “The book I read said that if you give him regular food he’ll realize ours is better and won’t go back to the baby stuff.”
“Good for him if he stops eating it. I got curious and tried it, it sucks.”
He shrugged a little. “He only needs to keep eating it for, I think, another year…?”
“Two whole years of that stuff? That’s evil. I’m giving him a fry.”
“Fy!” Said Damian again, this time slapping the table to punctuate the word.
Tim sighed and pulled out his phone to check that that was allowed. Apparently, despite the fact that kids can breast feed up to two years (or even longer), they can start with ‘table foods’ around a year. That made exactly zero sense to him but okay.
“... I guess that’s fine,” he said, eventually.
Marinette beamed and tore off a piece of her fry for Damian.
The baby was enlightened.
~
Despite the fact that they’d originally agreed to split the driving evenly, with long shifts so they could go straight to Gotham without any major setbacks, Marinette ended up doing most of it.
It turns out that Tim got car sick.
She didn’t say anything about it. He seemed embarrassed enough as it was, especially since Marinette and Damian were wholly unaffected.
It was… fine. She used the extra stops to get coffee each time. And, whenever it came time to feed or change Damian, she glared Tim into submission. It may not be entirely his fault that his stomach was protesting the car ride but it inconvenienced her so fuck him.
… she did feel a little bad, though, so she always held his hair out of his face and made sure to give him water so he was fully hydrated.
~
They arrived in Gotham and collapsed in the hotel bed pretty much the moment they could. They’d done hygiene stuff, of course, neither of them were eager to lay in their filth for the night after an almost day-long drive (there had been a lot of stops)… but once they had bathed and brushed their teeth? And cleaned up Damian? Straight to bed.
Tim had finished up first since his showers were quicker and he rested an arm around Damian to make sure he wouldn’t leave. He needn’t have worried, Damian was apparently just as happy as they were that they were in an actual bed again because he was in dreamland almost the second he’d touched it.
He closed his eyes and relaxed.
The bed dipped a little as Marinette crawled in and he let go of the kid so she could wrap around him per usual.
Tim hesitated here. He’d wrapped an arm around them before, sure, but that was different. That had mostly been a thing he’d done in his sleep.
After a few moments, Marinette sighed and scooted closer, tangling her legs with his.
He flushed red. “Uh?”
“It happens every night anyways, I’m resigned to my fate.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or frown.
She opened her eyes a little and smiled. “Relax. Chat Noir is super touch starved, I’m used to platonically cuddling with people.”
He relaxed a little and hesitantly rested an arm around the pair.
Marinette nuzzled her face into Damian’s hair and closed her eyes again.
He smiled at the scene and started to close his eyes… but then Kaalki caught his gaze.
He gave a small puff of laughter.
“You know, I just remembered something.”
Marinette hummed to say she was listening.
“My power is the ability to create portals.”
“... god fucking damn it.”
~~~~~
Next
@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff
#kaalki: i just wanted to see what it was like to drive in a car :(#into the unknown#maribat#timari#timinette#shutterbug#timmari#tim drake#red robin#marinette dupain cheng#ladybug
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The Swear Jar
Ok so I wrote some fanfic for yall :) its MCU fanfic, in an AU (idk which just go with it my dudes). I hope yall like it :D Here is a link to the fic on AO3. Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov | Word Count: ~1900
This story begins on one fine Sunday when Mr. Steve Rogers purchased a rather large jar. He bought a package of labels and a large sharpie as well. When he got back to the Avengers Tower, he took a label, wrote “SWEAR JAR” on it, and stuck it to the side of the jar. Then, he put it on a side table for everyone to see.
“Rogers, what the fuck is that?” Tony had asked when he saw it.
“A swear jar,” Steve explained simply. “Which you should put a dollar in, by the way.” Tony sighed dramatically. He then took out his wallet, removed a single, and leaned over Steve to get to the Swear Jar.
“Fine. Here you go. One dollar.” Tony said.
Now, whenever a resident of the Avengers Tower heard the call of “Language!” from Steve, a few moments later they also heard the clink of the glass jar. Peter Parker, who was a spectator of these rather funny events, noted that Clint and Tony were the ones called out most often.
But, alas, most adults do swear, and everyone eventually put at least a dollar in the Swear Jar. Even Peter had added a dollar or two to the Jar. But it was truly self-imposed. He hardly ever swore around adults, and if he did, it was a “Damn!” or the occasional “Shit!” that had slipped out by accident. But, since the appearance of the Swear Jar, that hardly happened anymore.
This went on for about a month before The Incident, as Peter called it.
Peter had been working in the lab with Tony. They were working on their own projects but they enjoyed each other’s company, so they worked in the same lab. They had been working for a while when Tony leaned back in his chair and sighed.
“You want something to drink, kid?” Tony asked.
“Sure,” Peter said. “How about a coke?”
“Sure thing,” Tony said and promptly left.
Peter was unfazed by Tony’s abrupt exit and went back to working on his project. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
“Tony?” Peter looked up. It was Steve. “Oh, hi, Steve,” Peter greeted him. “What’s up?”
“Is Tony here?” Steve asked. Peter shook his head.
“No, he just left. You can stay, if you want to, though.” Peter indicated to an area next to him where Steve could sit.
Steve sat, and Peter went back to his work. They sat there in silence for longer than Peter would have expected. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve flipping through papers and poking various parts and tools. Peter didn’t mind, but he wondered if Tony would. When will he be back? Peter thought.
Then, all of a sudden, Peter was ripped from his thoughts by a sharp yell.
“Fuck!”
Steve was sucking on his finger. He took it out of his mouth to look at it.
“Fuck, that hurt,” he said, quieter this time.
Peter realized in that moment that he had a decision to make:
Confront Steve now, make him deposit a few dollars to the Swear Jar, and tell everyone
Don’t say anything and use this as blackmail
Peter went with option number 2.
“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked Steve. Steve looked at him and they made eye contact for just a moment.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just got a paper cut.”
“Oh, that sucks. Do you want a Band-Aid?”
“Sure.”
There is actually another Incident that Peter would rather not talk about. In his mind, this is dubbed The Moment.
Peter and Steve had been helping some SHIELD agents move some things from one side of a building to the other side. One of those things just so happened to be a fridge. The agents expressed that they would feel a lot better if Peter and Steve carried it together, even though either one of them could hold it by himself.
They were squeezing through one of the narrower doorways when Peter caught his hand between the fridge and the doorway.
“Fuck,” he swore quietly. Peter let go of the fridge with that hand and shook it out.
Before Peter could grab onto the fridge again, he made eye contact with Steve. Just for a moment. And when Steve didn’t call him out, he realized Steve had made the same decision he had made.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Steve asked.
“I caught my hand between the fridge and the door,” Peter explained.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
This arrangement continued for around a month and a half, where Steve and Peter felt comfortable swearing when they were alone together, but kept the secret when they were around others.
The only thing that threatened this secret, was Bucky Barnes.
Bucky Barnes had been on a mission in California for the past two months and was finally allowed to come back to New York. When he walked into the common room in the Avengers Tower, one of the first things he spotted was the Swear Jar. Peter watched him eye it for a few minutes. Finally, Bucky caved.
“Steve?” he called.
“Yeah, Buck?” Steve called back.
“What’s this?” Bucky asked, his voice sounding like a parent that had just discovered an impromptu mural.
“...It’s the Swear Jar. See? It’s got a little label on it,” Steve explained, indicating the label on the front.
“Ah, I see,” Bucky nodded condescendingly. Peter watched him from across the room and came to a realization: Bucky knew that Steve had the dirtiest mouth out of all of the Avengers, but he decided to use it as blackmail, just as Peter had.
About a week later, Peter decided to organize another video for the Avengers YouTube channel that he ran, called Miscellaneous Inc.
The video begins with this opening card:
It’s animated. The sparkles come and leave out of sync.
[cut]
Some of the Avengers are sitting in a circle. They each have a whiteboard. Someone speaks:
“I swear to god, Clint, nobody’s forcing you to do this!”
[cut]
Peter Parker is sitting on his bed, criss cross applesauce. He waves at the camera.
“Hey, YouTube,” He greets the audience. “It’s me, Peter, saying hello to you on this fine Wednesday afternoon. Today, I have somehow convinced a whole bunch of the Avengers to play ‘Who’s More Likely To’ with me! I honestly don’t know how I convinced them to do it, but I did. Anyway, I asked you guys to ask some ‘Who’s More Likely To’ questions on Twitter, and I went through them! FRIDAY’s gonna read them out, though, so if you put emojis it might sound a little weird.”
[cut]
Peter, Tony, Steve, Bucky, Clint, Natasha, Sam, Wanda, and Vision are sitting in a circle, each equipped with a handheld whiteboard and a pen.
“Hi, camera!” Peter waves to the camera, mostly to make sure everyone else is aware of it. “You may notice that we are a few Avengers short. I promise, they are not dead. These are the only people I could convince to play with me. So far, that is. Should everyone introduce themself?” Peter asked and looked around the circle. Nobody really gave a definite reaction.
“We’ve all been on your channel before, yes?” Wanda asked.
“I guess…” Peter said.
The video froze and became a bit dimmer. Suddenly, names and arrows appeared on the screen, going around the circle, each appearance being noted by a small ding.
← Tony Stank (Iron Man)
← Peter Parker (me :D)
← Steve Rogers (Cap)
← Bucky Barnes (the coolest)
← Clint Barton (Hawkeye)
← Natasha Romanov (Black Widow)
← Sam Wilson (Falcon)
← Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)
← Vision (Vision)
“Peter,” Peter said to the camera. “Do something cool during editing. A message came up on the screen: “I got you ;)”
[cut]
“Okay.” Peter clapped his hands. “Let’s get started. To reiterate, this is the ‘Who’s More Likely To’ Challenge. How you play is basically, a question is asked, like, ‘who’s more likely to land an arrow in the bullseye on the first try’. Then you write down who you think would be more likely to do that and then we all compare our answers. Does that make sense?”
Everyone nodded their heads.
“Great. FRIDAY, please read the first question.”
“Who’s more likely to say something they’re not supposed to in front of the press?” FRIDAY’s disembodied voice said.
Everyone wrote on their whiteboards for a few moments.
“Okay, let’s see your answers,” Peter said and turned around his board. Everyone followed suit. There were quite a few answers. The two most popular were “me” (“That’s not an answer, you guys,”) and Peter.
“Next question!” Instructed Peter.
“Who’s more likely to break something and leave it for the next person to fix?”
The most popular answer for that one was Tony.
Who’s more likely to accidentally knock someone out?
Steve.
Who’s more likely to keep saying “one more try” on a trick shot?
Sam.
Who’s more likely to have a weird secret habit?
Clint.
Who’s more likely to tip off a metal detector by accident?
Answers evenly split between Natasha and Bucky.
Who’s more likely to swear the most?
Peter had been waiting for this one. He curated the questions so he knew this one would show up eventually. He saw Steve and Bucky make eye contact. He watched as Bucky turned toward him and looked him straight in the eye. It was as if he was saying, “Now is the time to break our silence.”
“Turn your boards!” Peter instructed. They all did. Apart from Peter and Bucky, the most common answers were Tony and Clint.
“Steve?” Tony asked. “Peter, did you hear the question? They said the dirtiest mouth.”
“Yeah, I know. Bucky, you can back me up, right?” Peter looked to Bucky for someone to back him up.
“I only have my word, kid,” Bucky said solemnly.
Then Peter remembered.
“Hold on, actually. I have something. FRIDAY, show me that day Steve and I were in the lab together!”
FRIDAY rolled the clip. Then, everyone was able to see the true Steve Rogers. They were all shocked, to say the least. Steve sat there with a dumbstruck expression, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.
“So what do you have to say for yourself, Capsicle?” Tony asked him.
“Uh...I’m sorry?” Steve tried.
“You’re damn right you’re sorry!” Clint yelled playfully. “I’ve lost at least $100 to that damn Swear Jar! Speaking of which, what do you do with all the money?”
Steve stalled for as long as possible, but it was inevitable. He would have to tell them.
“I spent it on art supplies and ice cream.”
“You did what?!”
[cut]
Peter was back on his bed. He waved to the camera again.
“Thank you guys so much for watching! I can try and convince them to do this again sometime if you’d like! See you next time!
The video ended. Peter turned off the camera.
“Steve is going to kill me…”
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⊱┊30
i don't need 'looking after'! i am perfectly capable of taking care of my own damn self. from the moment kayrem has walked back into our lives, he's been showing off. he's trying to prove his 'worth' to the family, and it's annoying the heck out of me!
first, he takes me away from isaac against my will, then he does this elaborate show of how much he still has an effect on me. i mean, the only reason i called him is that there was no one else to call!! and now he's brought a fucking dog for maxi? sucking up to father? it's not fair! he just doesn't get to be gone for this long and then have the easiest welcome back party.
i hate him!
after grumpily hopping out of the shower, i crash straight into bed. mum's doing overtime which means i'll get to see her first thing in the morning. this is good because i'm still figuring out what to say to her.
my parents always change roles, either one of them is too mad and the other is understanding or vice versa. so i guess she’s gonna be playing the ‘mad’ role tomorrow.
i slide out of bed and creep down the hallway, pausing at the source of the problem…in me.
"what are you doing?" i push the door further in.
without looking up from his crouching position, kayrem’s like, “the dvd player is jacked up. i'm tryna get it to work," and takes a gulp from his redbull.
"can't you wait till tomorrow to do it?"
"tomorrow can wait."
ugh, i never seem to make sense of his comebacks like these. just answer properly, jeez. "what are you tryna watch anyway?"
"get in the bed and you'll see," he grins.
the fuck? wait... i mean, i do kinda need to tell him something so..
"oh, and, shut the door. make sure to lock it too."
"'lock it'?" i stand there nervously.
"we don't want anyone walking in."
huh?
"if one of those scenes happen to come on," he adds like an afterthought.
"oh..." i shut the door and crawl into his bed, sitting up and crossing my legs. "why not just netflix and chill? that dvd player is pretty old; i don't think you can get it to work." i immediately shut my mouth, realising what i said could be taken the wrong way too.
he quits messing about with the player and looks over his shoulder at me with an amused frown, "huh?"
"i meant, like, watch a movie on the laptop. not..y'know. like, literally only a movie and nothing else."
"fine, i suppose you do have a point," he turns off the tv and dvd player before grabbing the laptop and climbing into bed with me. "fuck,” he taps away at the keys, “forgot it was flat.”
"can you just sleep with me instead?"
he raises his eyebrows, surprised.
"next to me! n~not with me!" i quickly clarify before laying down, all red and hot.
i hear the lid of the laptop shut, followed by a swift motion of a shirt being pulled off. the bed dips as a body lies down behind me. gradually, i feel warmth shifting closer to me and the smell of red bull breath. like magnets, we stick together. a hand weaves its way underneath my shirt and i tense up.
"relax," he coos.
his fingers trace over my mini love handles, nearing my belly button. i don't know if i want him to go higher or lower. slightly, i back up into him, rubbing my ass in circular motions on his dick. a grunt leaves his mouth, his hot breath hitting my nape. my respiration elevates and the follicles on my forearms stand up.
"sorry," i sigh.
"don't be. if you like it, keep doing it."
i back up into him further and rest my ass on his bulge. his hand goes higher, tracing the side of my boob, to my underboobs, then to the other side; forming a 'w' in the process.
"you're not wearing a bra.”
"..they're uncomfortable."
he slowly goes up the slopes of my boobs and runs his thumb over my tits, kneading them for a while. "you like this?"
"mhm.."
"how about this?" he skims his hand all the way down to the top of my panties.
i turn a little on my back and buck my hips up, desperately inching my body closer to his fingertips. he inserts his hand and goes past the stubble to reach my throbbing clit. now i can feel the pressure of his dick getting erect and also his hand on my pussy.
"here?" his finger hovers.
"y..yes.."
he tenderly presses down and a moan escapes my mouth.
"you're so sensitive, babysis," he whispers. "i haven't even started."
he rubs my button in a figure 8 which makes me squirm like a worm. his fingers slide in between my moist folds, massaging me, as they go back up again to torture my clit.
"kayrem, please, in..in me."
he puts his mouth next to my ear, "how many?"
"as many as you can fit.."
"on one condition, you have to call me by my middle name from now on, sis."
knots get created in my stomach. knots and crosses. clusters and ravels. memories and misery. no, this cannot be happening again. i was here to talk to him, not play with him.
"stop.”
"what?"
"lavanda," i pull his hand out, "i'm sorry."
he doesn't say anything, but i can tell he's not that happy. i turn to face him. he's lying on his back with an arm crossed behind his head, in a pensive mood. there's a sense of nostalgia dancing in his distant expression as he stares out the skylight. i cuddle up to him, laying an arm and a leg over his torso.
“missed my room,” he murmurs melancholically.
“yeah, think i liked it better as a guest room.”
“shut up,” he rolls his eyes. "…why did you come back, marie?"
"i have something to tell you."
he glances at me curiously with those hazel eyes. how can i get lost in them when i have the exact same colour? his other sleeveless arm lingers over the blanket. i shift closer to him so that my body gently presses into his. he’s warm.
"i'm pregnant."
nothing but tensive as hell silence fills the room.
finally, kayrem exhales loudly, his stomach deflating and my arm lowering with the motion. "why the fuck are you telling me that?" he shoves me away. "i don't care about the shit you do with him. i also don't appreciate you bringing his shit back here."
"your shit."
"what?" he faces me with a blank expression.
"it's yours."
he opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
i sit up criss~cross applesauce. "that night when we did it, i..i haven't gotten my.." i clear my throat and start again. "i haven't gotten my..my.. ugh, sorry," i apologise, picking at my cuticles.
"it's okay. you can tell me. i’m your big brother," kayrem leans up on his elbow and stops me from fidgeting.
"i haven't gotten my period since. isaac said that he could deal with me being.." i gesture with my eyes to my tummy, "but he doesn't know that it's yours. and if he did, i don't know what he'll think of me. i just thought you should know before i did anything.”
“i..uhh…” kayrem scratches the back of his head. "do you know how far along you are?"
i shake my head.
"have you been to the doctors?"
i shake my head again.
"jesus, marie, have you done anything for it?"
no…
"i'm taking you to the docs tomorrow, i don't care," and he slumps back down.
"what, no!"
"you're going."
"i'm not!"
"like, hell."
"for fuck's sake!" i throw my hands up in the air. "i'm not keeping it, okay!”
he glares at me, trying to remain pragmatic, "i'm pretty sure this is the hormones talking, not you."
"don't you dare blame this on the hormones!"
"fine then," he spits out, "why even tell me all this when you could've gotten rid of it back there?! huh!?"
"because you had the right to know,” i murmur sadly.
he closes his eyes and shakes his head with a sigh, "you don't have to get rid of it because of how it came to be. it's selfish..heedless."
i shrug.
“if you’re worried about mother and father, don’t be. as long as i’m here, nobody can hurt you.”
yet he hurts me from simply uttering those weighty words.
"you can still give it up, but don't kill it.”
"we need to… incest and stuff. it’ll look like an alien.”
“incest or love?”
“i don’t love you, loser.”
“listen, we made the risk the moment we decided not to use..” he stops himself, clearly agitated. “anyways, the point is, marie, you're not a killer. you're nowhere close to being like him."
“what did you say?”
"nothing.”
“no, you said something, tell me.”
“dang it," kayrem rolls his eyes frustratedly. "i wasn't supposed to say anything till morning."
"what are you talking about?"
"hey," he grips my hand softly. "c’mon, let's go to sleep."
"no," i snatch my hand back. "i don't want you touching me right now."
he scoffs, "for real?"
i stare at him.
“whatever, get some sleep," and he turns on his other side, throwing the blanket over himself.
"i hate you, kayrem, i really do."
no answer.
i was about to leave his stupid room when the door sways open quietly.
"rosé, are you in here?" maxi's fragile voice wonders.
"buddy, what's up?" kayrem lifts his head up.
"wasn't talkin' to you," maxi mumbles.
"maxi, what happened?" i ask him.
"rosé," he says with relief when he hears my voice, "i..i had a nightmare and it was... it was..." he breaks into tears before having the chance to finish his sentence.
"naw, baby, come here," i hold my arms out.
"it was really scary!" he squeals and runs to me.
"it was just a nightmare, maxi, a bad dream," i console him, wiping his tears away. "it's not real. you have nothing to worry about, i promise."
"can i sleep with you guys, please?" he asks innocently.
“let’s go to my room, okay?”
"of course," kayrem grips my arm. "jump in, maximus. you can sleep in the middle, between me and marie."
"the... the house was on fire," maxi lays down, and i pull the covers over him. "i couldn't find you, rosé. i couldn't find mummy or daddy or kayrem too. when i looked out the window, i saw all of you standing there and smiling at me."
"jesus..." kayrem mutters.
"you know us, maxi," i sweep his locks to the side. "we would never leave you if the house was ever on fire. that wasn't us in your dream. they just looked like us."
"but you left me ~ twice, already."
i have trouble replying, sorta embarrassed, and give kayrem a glance.
"hey, bud, it was just a nightmare, alright?" he decides to step in for me. "nightmares can scare you, but they can't hurt you."
"see, you're safe with us," i add. "now go to sleep," i kiss him on the forehead. "kayrem and i will make sure the monsters can't come and get you."
"yeah, lil bro, your sister and i...we have our ways," he sends me a wink.
ew.
maxi nods, sobbing in my chest, and tries to fall asleep.
"what the fuck kind of movies have you been letting him watch lately?!" i hiss at kayrem.
"just an ep or two of supernatural," he informs me. "didn't think it'd be that bad."
"you didn't think..??" i shake my head in irritation. "you're such an idiot..!"
after 10 minutes or so, i can hear little snores coming from maxi.
kayrem puts his arm across maxi and rests the hand at the end of it on my waist. "kinda like seeing you like this," he whispers. "all protective of him. turns me on...a little."
i punch his shoulder, "nothing's gonna happen between you and i with him here. now shush, you're gonna wake him."
with my eyelids closed, the scent of red bull breath comes even closer, and before i know it, a pair of wet lips have enveloped over mine. i am caught a bit off guard because, like, our little brother is with us, and what if he wakes up? however, this doesn't seem to bother my big brother in the slightest.
there's something mellow about the kiss. it makes me feel safe and sound. i try not to make a sound or get lost in it, but i'm kinda losing it already. he tastes of sin, taurine and the colour red if red had a taste. he sticks his hand under my shirt, egging me on. we're both lowkey squishing burrito maxi in the process.
"fuck, stop, stop..!" i quickly retract.
"he's asleep," kayrem says calmly. "he ain't seein' nothin'," and attempts to find my lips again.
"i don't care. goodnight."
a moment later, kayrem snuggles his head inches away from mine and is like, "this could be us, you know. keep it, please.”
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The kissing prompts: 36! 36! 36! That’s adorable🙈💕
please take my offering of a virtual hug as an apology for me posting this like... really... really late. I have no excuses aside from ‘I suck and I promise I’ll try to be better but it’s only going to get worse’. Anyway, I love you Hayls and I hope you love this!
Read here on ao3.
Prompt taken from this list.
“-that’s my third detention this semester, can you believe that?” Richie rambles as he and Eddie enter the front door of the Tozier residence.
“Yes, Richie, I can,” Eddie replies dryly, dropping his backpack by the door like he always does, kicking his shoes off there, too.
“What’s this about another detention?” Richie looks to his right, finding his dad peering at him over his reading glasses. Oops.
“I, uh, I was being too noisy during class-” Went sighs, closing his eyes against the new information. Richie swallows nervously, knowing that if his mother hears about this she’s sure to be upset, and that’s something Richie hates. When his mother is upset, she cries a lot, and Richie hates being responsible for making her cry.
“How about this?” Went starts, “I don’t want your mother to be upset any more than you do. So, I won’t tell her. Unless you get another detention in the next two weeks, then I’m going to make you tell her about both of them, and you’ll be grounded.”
Richie beams at him. He can totally pull that off. All he has to do is sit still in class for two weeks… oh no, maybe he can’t pull that off.
“Sure thing, Daddio!” Richie says anyway, because he’ll be damned if he won’t try.
“You’re screwed,” Eddie snickers, making Went laugh, too. Richie rolls his eyes at both of them, pulling on Eddie’s hand to lead him up the stairs to their room.
“Here it is!” Richie says after they get back to his room and he digs through the new stuff he’d gotten over Christmas break, finding the item Eddie had come over to see. It’s a brand new, shiny walkman with a gray stripe down the side, and Eddie has never had the chance to use one before. Richie had been borrowing his dads since he first learned what a walkman is, so Went had finally given him one for Christmas. And the first thing he plans to do with it is let Eddie borrow it for as long as he wants.
“Cool!” Eddie says when he gets his hands on it, turning it over excitedly while Richie fishes the tapes out of his junk. “What tapes do you have?”
“My dad only bought me two for now.” Richie smiles in response to Eddie’s enthusiasm. When Eddie gets excited it’s hard for Richie to slow down because his heart starts to race and he gets way too nervous. “The Smiths and The Cure. I hope you like those. Have you heard their music before? Who am I kidding, you’d have to live under a fucking rock to have never heard their music before, of course you-” Eddie snatches the tapes out of his hands and puts one into it. “Hey, wait, be careful with it! My dad will kill me if I break it right away!”
“Shut up, I’m not going to break it,” Eddie sighs, cramming the headphones over his ears haphazardly. “So I just… hit…” Eddie clicks the button on the side and his face lights up like a Christmas tree when the music begins to play. “Cool,” He breathes out, eyes locked on Richie’s.
Richie wants to tear his eyes away, but he just can’t. He’s well aware that there’s a huge smile taking up half of his face that looks far too fond watching his best friend borrow his walkman, but he just can’t look away. Eddie is so easily impressed with the gadgets Richie has because his mom never lets him have any, and Richie feels on top of the world every time he gets to show Eddie something new. Most of the time he’s annoying Eddie or pestering him nonstop, but in moments like these, Eddie looks at Richie like he’s the best person in the universe. It’s not often anyone looks at Richie like that. He’s gangly and bug-eyed and buck-toothed and crass. Nobody really looks at Richie Tozier and thinks anything much other than ‘Wow, what a nerd’. But sometimes, just sometimes, Eddie looks at him like he’s the best nerd ever.
That look makes Richie’s palms sweat and his heart race, and he knows exactly what that means. He knows. He carved their initials on the kissing bridge, for Christ’s sake.
“Do you like it?” He asks, stupidly, because obviously Eddie likes it. But Eddie just nods, eyelashes fluttering. They both move to sit down on his bed, criss-cross applesauce and side by side. “Keep it for as long as you want,” He tells him. He hadn’t mentioned to him, yet, that letting Eddie borrow it had been his plan since the moment he unwrapped the gift.
“What? No, I can’t. This is yours,” Eddie protests, eyes wide. He pulls the headphones off of his ears at once.
“Mi walkman es su walkman.” Richie puts the headphones back around his neck. “I’ll just use it when I sneak into your room.”
It’s something Richie does often, ever since the incident. They both have nightmares, and when Richie’s are especially bad he slips out of his house and into Eddie’s bed. It’s easier when he’s not alone.
He’s pretty sure his mom knows, at this point, and has chosen not to say anything. Eddie’s mom, on the other hand, would give them an earful if she ever found out. That still doesn’t keep him from doing it.
“Are you sure, Richie? What if my mom finds it and takes it?” Eddie looks equally apprehensive and excited.
“I’ll steal it back from her,” Richie says, but he finds that he really doesn’t care if he ever sees it again. Just the thought of Eddie laying on his bed with his eyes closed, listening to whatever tape Richie gives him makes his heart feel full.
“Thanks, Rich.” Eddie smiles somewhat bashfully, eyes looking down at the little machine in his hands. His brows furrow a little and Richie nearly has to physically hold himself back from kissing him right there, right between his eyebrows. He wonders what Eddie would think if he did do that. He likes to think Eddie wouldn’t mind, that he’d smile a little or tease Richie playfully like he always does or maybe even kiss Richie on the lips. He thinks about it sometimes, when he’s laying in bed, playing it over and over in his head until he falls asleep.
But, even if Eddie did like boys, which seems basically impossible, why would he ever want to kiss Richie? Richie, with all his greasy forehead acne he has to cover with his bangs and the stupid braces he only has to have on for a few more months. Richie, with his big nose and big glasses that would probably get in the way.
He’d squish Eddie’s cute little button nose and probably poke his eye out. They wouldn’t fit together like two halves of a whole, they’d fit together like a square peg and a round hole.
But, gosh, does he want to kiss him. So he does what he can, grabbing at Eddie’s wrists to pull him closer, saying ‘Cute, cute, cute!’ before leaning in and giving him a half-assed eskimo kiss, rubbing his nose back and forth until Eddie pushes him back gently. He only moves back a few inches, intruding Eddie’s personal space, as usual.
“You’re so weird,” Eddie says, laughing. He peers up at Richie through chocolate brown eyelashes with an amused look on his face.
“You’re so weird,” Richie counters before leaning forward and rubbing his nose on his once more. Eddie doesn’t move this time, though, instead he stays quiet and still. He doesn’t giggle or bat Richie away, he just sits there, arms propping himself up on his knees. He’s almost rigid, staring at Richie’s eyes like he’s seen a ghost. “What?” Richie stops, nose still pressed against Eddie’s, feeling as nervous as he does when a teacher calls on him and he wasn’t paying attention.
Eddie looks like he’s about to answer, Richie can feel him swallow and take in a deep breath, but then he doesn’t. Then, he does something much, much better. He moves just an inch or so and presses his lips against Richie’s like it’s as natural as breathing.
Richie is what one would describe as ‘all bark, no bite’, but right now he’s no bark and no bite. His eyes grow huge, surely magnified to a comical size by his glasses. He has no idea what to do as Eddie’s soft, sweet lips move against his, as Eddie’s hands fly up to cup his cheeks.
Before he even has a chance to ponder it, Eddie is pulling back with a gasp.
“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Richie cries, grabbing Eddie’s hands and pressing them back against his cheeks, “I liked that, don’t say sorry. Kiss me again, please.”
Eddie’s face transforms from trembling to smirking, squeezing Richie’s face between his palms and brushing his lips against Richie’s own. “Are you sure?”
“Please,” Richie pleads one more time, and he’s immediately rewarded with a gentle, but simultaneously fierce kiss. Eddie’s thumbs stroke at the delicate skin underneath his eyes, the tips of his fingers disappearing into Richie’s unruly curls. He realizes with a start that he hasn’t touched Eddie once sitting there like a limp noodle, which is incredibly uncharacteristic, so he wraps his hands around Eddie’s slender wrists, thumbs stroking over the backs of his hands gingerly, thinking he might die if Eddie pulls away again.
But Eddie just keeps kissing him, pressing as close as he can get, and Richie has the fleeting thought that they actually fit together quite nicely, almost like they were made for each other, almost like there really is such a thing a soulmates.
Tag List: @constantreaderfool @violetreddie @girasol-eddie
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We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Twenty-Nine || Tom Holland x Reader
A/N: it’s sad boi hours
Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)
Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.
Warnings: swearing, minor smut, angst
What I listened to while writing: the we’re only kidding ourselves playlist!! shit slaps
Word Count: 3.2k
Series Masterlist
Tom clutched you tightly against him with an arm around your waist as you both looked at Harrison in shock.
“I-uh,” Harrison looked equally as horrified as both you and Tom and quickly looked up at the ceiling awkwardly like he didn’t know whether or not to avert his gaze.
“What the fuck, mate?” Tom growled, clenching his jaw. His body was tense against yours and he was still incredibly hard beneath you. He shifted up on the bed and you bit your lip to suppress a moan as he unintentionally grinded up against you.
“I’m sorry I just-”
“Get out, Harrison!”
“Last time I checked, this wasn’t your room, Thomas,” Haz shot back, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting his gaze over to you.
“Are you fucking kidding me? We were kind of in the middle of something, if you couldn’t tell,” Tom sneered, smirking at the other boy.
The silence in the room was deafening after that and both boys were looking at you expectantly. You wanted to scream. They were acting like children. Harrison was stubbornly standing his ground, refusing to leave and Tom was rubbing the fact that he was about to have sex with you in his face. Well he wasn’t getting laid now. At least not...right now.
“So, um, what’s up, Haz?” You asked casually and leaned back to get a better look at him.
“For fucks sake,” Tom mumbled bitterly, but you ignored him.
“I was wondering if we could, um, talk?”
You blinked. “Right now?”
“If that’s okay with you? I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important.”
“The world better be fucking ending, Harrison,” Tom spat.
“If you’re so eager to get your dick wet, why don’t you ring one of your hookups from Homecoming? I’m sure they’d be thrilled to see you again.”
This was getting to be too much. “Yeah okay, what did you want to talk about?” you asked before Tom could respond and cleared your throat.
“Actually, can I speak with you privately?”
You tried not to sigh in annoyance. Not only did you not really want to talk to Harrison after all those things he’d said about you, you were also pretty sure there’d be a wet spot on Tom’s pants where you’d been sitting when you got up and you really, really didn’t want him to see that.
“Yeah, whatever.”
You put your hands over your chest and moved to get up, but Tom stopped you by squeezing your thigh . “Y/n,” he hissed, eyes wide.
“It’s fine, Tom. It’s just Haz. It’s not like he hasn’t seen boobs before.”
“Yeah but-” Tom stopped mid-sentence and bit his lip, letting his hands fall to his sides reluctantly. You hopped off his lap and jogged to the other side of the room where you’d thrown your shirt and pulled it over your head as quickly as possible.
“Where do you want to talk?”
“Can you at least put some pants on?” Tom pleaded from the bed.
You gave him the finger, but wiggled into the sweatpants you’d been wearing anyway.
You followed Harrison down the hall to a set of chairs situated by the elevators. You settled into one across from him unceremoniously and crossed your legs criss cross applesauce.
“So what’d you want to talk about?” You asked, not hiding the frustration in your voice very well. “At four am?”
“Sorry, I thought you’d gotten my texts.”
“I didn’t.” He could sense you were upset and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You softened. “But I’m here now, so what’s up?”
He took a deep breath.“I um- remember the first night in New York? A while back?”
You wished you could say his behavior wasn’t making you nervous, but it was. The hesitation, the jittering. The fact that he was avoiding making eye contact with you was enough to make you worry. You knew what he wanted to say to you, and you weren’t ready to hear it.
“Yeah, the night you found out that Tom and I were sleeping together.”
He tensed at that, clenching his jaw briefly. “Right. I had wanted to tell you something-”
“And you were completely blindsided, yeah I remember.”
He chuckled and seemed to relax a little. “That wasn’t the best surprise, no. But I wanted to tell you something and I never did. I just brushed it off after... learning all that.”
“Oh shit, that’s right! You told me you’d tell me what you wanted to talk about later and you never did.”
“Which is why I’m telling you now.”
He was stalling. You balled your fists and sucked in a breath, waiting for the blow. He finally got the courage to look at you straight on and you thought you might sink into the floor. Those piercing, eager blue eyes staring into yours brought you right back to all the hours of sitting on the cold cement floor of the studio lot together back in London. Swapping your french fries for his baby carrots at lunch like it was middle school. Losing your shit and trying not to laugh when Tom messed up a take. Napping on each other because the floor was way too uncomfortable. You weren’t ready for your heart to break all over again. It wasn’t even fully put back together yet. It felt like all the pieces were duct-taped together haphazardly, barely holding on. Small shards still lingered on the inside of your chest, cutting your lungs, your diaphragm, your liver. Duct tape was strong, but it wasn’t invincible.
Part of you felt guilty for already knowing what Harrison was about to tell you, while the other part of you dreaded the words that were about to come out of his mouth.
“Telling me what?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the elevator.
“That I have feelings for you, y/n.”
You had known what he was going to say, prepared yourself for it. But it’s like what they say about car accidents. Drivers who are alert and braced for the impact of a collision come out with more broken bones than the unsuspecting, relaxed driver with slower reflexes.
Instead of time slowing down like it was in the habit of doing in situations like these, it sped up, leaving you disoriented and dizzy. You knew you should say something, you had to say something, but your mind was drawing a blank. Everything was moving too fast, and you knew Harrison was waiting for you to react, but you were frozen in place, unable to think of anything to say.
“I, uh, I like you, but” Harrison continued after a few moments when you hadn’t responded.
“But you don’t want Tom’s sloppy seconds,” you interrupted and finished his sentence for him, finally coming to your senses.
He scrunched his face up in confusion. “Wha-what?”
“You don’t want Tom’s sloppy seconds. I mean, I get it, but it’s kind of shitty to say.”
“You... weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“Yeah, no shit. You texted me to meet you at your hotel room and you leave the fucking door open while you’re talking to Tom about me? I knew you were a dumbass, but-”
“Y/n, I didn’t mean it.”
You stared at him, pursing your lips and trying to suppress the hurt in your chest that was threatening to resurface. “Then why did you say it?”
“I just- I was upset. Tom knew that I liked you and the whole time, and still went after you anyway. He just, he’s on top of the world. I’ve always stood in his shadow, which is fine. I’m really happy for him, he deserves everything he’s got... except for you.”
“What do you mean?”
Harrison sighed. “Tom has worked so hard for everything he has. The Marvel contract, his Disney deals....but for the longest time... he hated you. The shit he put you through, the names he called you... he fucking tried to fire you multiple times! So, I don’t know, it hurts that somehow he got you to fall for him after all that. Don’t get me wrong, Tom is my best friend. He’s a great guy. But you deserve better. You’re smart and beautiful and the funniest person I know, and until a few weeks ago Tom couldn’t see any of that.”
You sucked in a breath, feeling overwhelmed with a thousand different emotions. A tear slid down Harrison’s cheek and you leaned forward to wipe it away, but stopped yourself. You knew it wasn’t your place to.
“I don’t expect you to respond, or reciprocate or anything. I know you’re in love with Tom. I just had to get it off my chest.”
Love. Hearing it said out loud made the room spin. You held back a sob. “But I do love you, Harrison.”
“You’re just not in love with me. I know. I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, you’re cool and all, but the whole world doesn’t revolve around you.”
You laughed and wiped your eyes. “Okay, damn. I’m going to try not to be offended by that.”
“I gave you all those compliments and that’s what you’re hung up on?”
“Yeah, I’m very arrogant, didn’t you know?”
“You know what, at least you’re self aware”
“Oh fuck you!” you said, rolling your eyes and pushing his shoulder. It fell silent for a moment, before something began to tug at the back of your mind. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
He smiled softly, eyes still tinged a little red. “Anything.”
“Um, I don’t know how to phrase this...”
“Should I be worried?” Haz asked with a nervous grin.
“No, I was just wondering, if we were ever friends friends? Like was that all a lie?”
He looked a little taken aback by that. “Of course we were friends, y/n. We are friends. I like spending time with you, I always have. It wasn’t just because I liked you or whatever.”
You relaxed a little. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I just... didn’t want to lose you.”
“Don’t worry, love, you’re stuck with me.”
“Good. I can’t deal with Tom on my own. I don’t know how you did it for so long.”
He smirked. “I had the twins and Tuwaine.”
“I know, but still.”
The elevator dinged, bringing you both back to reality and you jumped, startled to see a young couple walk out onto your floor. They were too wrapped up in each other, whispering in each other’s ears to notice you. It was the same couple you’d run into the other day at this same elevator, but this time they passed by without a second glance.
Harrison turned back to you and cleared his throat. “I should, uh, get back to my room. Harry and I have to get up really early.”
“Oh okay,” you stood and rubbed your hands on your sweatpants, not knowing what else to say.
He stood too, but hesitated. “Sorry again about, uh, interrupting you and Tom.”
You felt your face grow warm with embarrassment. You’d completely forgotten about that until just now. “No worries. Next time I’ll make sure the door is locked.”
He blushed. “And next time I’ll knock.”
“Deal.”
He smiled at you. It was a loving smile with a touch of heartsickness. “I’ll, um let you get back to that then. Good night, y/n.”
“Good night, Harrison.”
You wanted to hug him, God you wanted to hug him. But you restrained yourself and watched him turn away and start walking towards his room. You wrapped your arms around yourself instead and forced yourself to start shuffling back to your own room. Back to Tom.
You were nearly there when you heard him call to you from down the hallway. “Remember to use protection!”
You whipped around to glare at him. It was the middle of the night and he was yelling this shit to you in a hotel? Your face fell into a devilish grin. That was the Harrison you loved so dearly, the one you’d been so afraid to lose.
“You’re not the boss of me, asshole!”
He just shrugged and mouthed good night before disappearing into his room, the door clicking shut quietly behind him.
You turned to face the door to your room and took a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together before going back in. There would be questions, questions that you didn’t want to answer- that you didn’t know how to answer. There was still a lot to process.
The door was still tapped from when you’d left and it made you wonder if Tom had been listening to your conversation. It would be awkward, but save you from a lot of explaining.
“So, where were we?” you asked lowly in what you hoped was a seductive voice as you pushed open the door into the room.
You were surprised to see Tom asleep on the bed with all the lights still on. He was lying on top of the covers and his phone was lying on his stomach like he’d drifted off while scrolling. You smiled to yourself, secretly relieved you didn’t have to talk about anything right this minute. You weren’t in the right state of mind to have sex anyway. You shut the door softly and flicked off lights one by one before finally getting to the lamp on the bedside table. You carefully took Tom’s phone and plugged it up, leaning over him to set it on the table and then turned off the lamp, dousing the room in darkness, save for the reflection of the city that shone through the sheer curtains.
You crawled onto the bed and curled up next to him, relaxing when your cheek touched his shoulder. Despite not being underneath the blankets, he was warm enough, and the steady rise and fall of his chest comforted you. You lifted your head and kissed his shoulder tenderly before laying back down next to him and letting yourself drift off.
-
“Fuck,” was the first thing you said in the morning when your alarm went off. You reached around blindly for your phone, and knocked it off the bedside table in the process. You groaned in frustration and sat up, confused when the noise stopped all by itself.
Tom handed you your phone back with a lopsided grin. He was freshly showered and dressed like he was ready for set which meant he’d already gone to the gym.
“How many times did I snooze my alarm?” you asked, rubbing your eyes. You stretched, and realized that Tom had draped one of his sweaters over you when he left that morning, probably to make up for the loss of heat.
“I lost count after six.”
“Shit, what time is it?”
“Like eight.”
“Fuck me, I don’t have time to do anything I was supposed to and-”
“Take a deep breath, y/n, you need to eat something first then you can worry about everything else.”
Tom set a plate of waffles with a chocolate chip smiley face in front of you and climbed up next to you on the bed, waiting for you to take a bite.
You grabbed the fork off the side of the plate stubbornly and cut into the waffle on top, smudging the smiley face.
“All my hard work!” Tom exclaimed in exasperation, looking horrified.
“Your hard work is delicious,” you assured him and gave him a kiss that tasted like chocolate.
“Yeah, well it’s gonna cost you.”
“Ooh, I’m kinda broke.”
“I think we can work something out,” he said and leaned in for another kiss. You pressed your lips to his and smiled against him, wishing that time would slow down so you could savor the moment. You yelped in surprise when he slipped his tongue into your mouth and smacked him on the back with the hand that wasn’t holding the fork. “Ow!”
“We have work in less than an hour, we can’t!”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smirked. “Who said we need a whole hour?”
Tom went in for another kiss and you dodged him by shoving more waffle in your mouth. “Nice try.”
“So, uh, what did Harrison want to talk about last night?” Tom asked, stealing a bit of waffle.
“Is that why you made me such a cute breakfast?” you asked suspiciously. “Afraid he’s gonna ‘charm his way into my pants’? A direct quote, I believe.”
“Well, did he?” His expression was guarded, but you could tell he was still insecure about it from the way he licked his lips nervously.
“Would I be here if he had?”
“I guess you’re right,” he sighed and slung and arm around your shoulders, watching you eat your breakfast with admiration in his eyes.
Breakfast had sort of become your thing, you’d noticed. The private moments in the morning shared between the two of you over food were what you remembered most. It had served as an apology, a romantic gesture, a peace offering. You wanted to have breakfasts with Tom every day for the rest of your life, even if you’d never admit it.
“Of course I’m right.”
You weren’t sure if you wanted to tell Tom what Harrison had said, especially the part about him not deserving you, so you ignored the question and deflected back to the topic of work.
“You should get going soon, we shouldn’t leave together.”
Tom nodded distantly. “Yeah.”
You paused, bite of waffle halfway to your mouth. “You okay?”
He looked back up at you, an intensity in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Come away with me.”
“What?”
“You and me, let’s go somewhere, anywhere. We only have a few days of shooting left. Let’s just get away after all of this, be by ourselves. See if this thing really works.”
It was so sudden and completely out of nowhere, but you found yourself nodding and smiling. “Okay....okay, yeah let’s do it!”
“We owe it to ourselves right?” Tom asked and lift your hand to his mouth to kiss. “We can go wherever you want.”
“I don’t care where, as long as it’s with you.”
“Fucking loser,” Tom snorted and you pushed at him defensively.
“I don’t! We can go wherever...but preferably not Venice,” you amended with a sheepish smile.
“Noted.” He nodded then glanced down at his watch and sighed. “I should get going, but I’ll see you downstairs, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll see you.”
He held onto your hand and squeezed it tightly. “Hey, we’re going to be just fine, alright? Only a few days until wrap. We’re in the endgame now.”
“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that.”
Tom winked and you felt your heart flutter like it had the first time he kissed you. You were so whipped for this boy.
He hopped off the bed and grabbed his backpack from off the dresser.
“Kay, I’m actually heading out now, but don’t think I forgot about you owing me for destroying my waffle masterpiece!”
You threw a pillow at him. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise! Now go! You’re going to make us both late!”
“I’m holding you to that!”
wow only ONE more part what the FUCK!! also this chapter was so emo and so cheesy lol what is wrong with me anyway lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!
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When You Least Expect It: Part Three
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
Jensen x Musician!Reader
A/N: This is a slow burn fic that I have been working on for a while. Its a story I wrote for myself and just wanted to share with everyone. Yes, the “Dee” in the story is who you think, but there is no intended hate on her or their actual marriage. It is a work of fiction, that is all. Part three is from Jensen’s POV. There is also a playlist to go along with the series.
Series Playlist: “When You Least Expect It” (Spotify)
Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him. What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives.
Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut (that’s it for now)
WC: 3.5K
*Banner created by me; pics & gifs found online
Jensen was fucking cold.
He didn’t start feeling the chill set into his bones until they made their way back up the beach towards where he left his car. They chatted casually on the walk back, mostly about the festival, and Austin itself, but when they reached her front door he found it hard to say goodbye. Unless he was mistaken, he got the vibe that maybe she didn’t want too, either.
They stood outside her door for another three or four minutes and she finally noticed his body trembling.
“Hey, why don’t you come inside? After all, it is my fault that you’re shivering. I think I have some clothes here that may fit you alright since you’re completely soaked through.”
“It’s fine. I’ll make it back to the hotel alright,” he said through chattering teeth.
“Nonsense, come on. Besides, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next year. Might as well start getting used to you being around all the time.” She winked and unlocked the front door.
Stepping into her bungalow, he felt instantly comfortable in her space. The furniture was older, but it was still in decent shape and very cozy. The couch was draped in oversized fleece blankets with a few plush throw pillows. There were nautical decorations, pictures of fishing boats all over the walls, and even the curtains covering the small kitchen window bore anchors and sailboats. A small hallway divided the room, separating the living room from the eat-in kitchen that led to the bedrooms and single bathroom.
“Cute place,” he said after looking around. “Not exactly what I would have imagined your taste to be.”
She laughed. “Not my taste, at all. This was my dad’s house, long before it was mine. I just never wanted to change it after he passed.”
“Oh,” Jensen replied, “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. It was a long time ago, but, thanks…” she trailed off for a moment but came back around. “Let me get you those clothes so do you don’t develop pneumonia on my watch.”
Y/N disappeared down the hallway, and Jensen took the time to really look at the pictures that lined the walls. He saw a small girl, and boy slightly older standing with a man in his forties on the dock. Beside them was a fifty-plus foot fishing boat.
“That’s him,” she said upon her return and pointed to the man in the photo. “That’s my dad, Monty, and that was his boat, Song of the Sea.”
“Cool name. That’s you, then?” he asked, pointing to the girl beside Monty.
“Yep, that’s me, and that’s my brother Dave.”
“Is he a fisherman, too?”
“Nope. He’s a dickhead. I don’t know what he does for a living now. We haven’t talked in years.”
“Oh…”
“Clothes,” she said and handed them out to him. “If you’re hungry I have some leftover pizza in the fridge I can warm up. It’s from Saw Mill.”
“I am down for some pizza,” he smiled, feeling quite content with the direction the evening took, despite his dip in the ocean. “Is there a place I could change?”
“Yeah, down the hall, last door on the left.”
Jensen found the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes. The room was blessedly warm, allowing his skin to unfreeze the moment the wet clothes had been removed. He borrowed one of the towels that had been hanging on the back of the door and used it to dry his hair. Once he had on the fresh set of clothes, he paused and looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was the first chance he had to be alone with his own thoughts since arriving at the Bamboo, and as his own green eyes stared back he didn’t know where to begin processing it all.
Twenty-four hours ago he was laying in his hotel bed, dreaming about some mystery girl, and now he was standing in her house, about to gnaw on some pizza and discuss how she’s going to be working with him over the course of the next year.
Are you out of your fucking mind? He silently asked his reflection. He decided he must be, but he also decided that he didn’t necessarily care. When he searched his genuine feelings, the ones he kept very close to the vest, he was happy. He felt good about making her the offer and even better that she accepted it. The other ones, the tangled mess of clingy, fawning emotions that bubbled so close to the surface were the ones he didn’t want.
You can get to know her, be her friend, without it turning to sex. Certainly, no feelings. This is work. She’s smart and creative and will be an asset to the team bringing this to life, he said to himself, almost like a mantra.
Then, out loud. “It can’t be anything more… It. can’t. Whatever you think you feel… you don’t. It's just--”
A soft knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. “Yeah?”
“Sorry, I just wanted to see if you wanted a beer with your pizza. I have water and some apple juice, or--”
“A beer sounds great,” he replied. “Be out in a minute.”
It was quiet again, and he assumed she must have walked away. Remembering their earlier exchange on the word, he didn’t want to take the chance she would hear him. One beer, one slice of pizza, then back to the hotel and tomorrow back to Vancouver. You got this, his inner voice promised himself.
Two beers and two slices later, Jensen was sitting criss-cross applesauce on Y/N’s floor, with her next to him and a photo album depicting her years in drama club productions in front of them.
“Oh, this one,” she started and pulled it from its plastic sleeve pausing to look at it long enough for one of those soft, reflective smiles to touch her lips. “This is from when we did Grease.”
“That’s you there?”
“Yup. I was the understudy for Sandy. The lead they cast was a healthy specimen, so I got to play one of the Pink Ladies instead.”
“I bet you would have made a kick-ass Sandy,” he teased and took a closer look at the picture.
She snatched it from his fingers and returned it to the album. “Nah, I was way too wild to be Sandy. The girl they cast was purity defined. She did a great job. Frenchie, maybe, or Rizzo… I could have pulled off Rizzo.”
“Now we’re talking. Rizzo, she was my favorite. I always had a thing for the bad girls,” he mused with a devilish grin before finishing off his second beer.
“Want another?” Y/N asked and got up from the floor.
Jensen considered it and waved her off. “Nah, I should probably get back to the hotel.”
“Right…” she mumbled and opened the fridge to grab herself another beer. “I mean, it's after two. If you wanna crash in the spare bedroom, it's open.”
“You’d be okay with that?” He watched her reaction closely. Yes, they had grown close in the day they spent together, and he was oddly comfortable with the idea of crashing at her place. But he didn’t want to seem as if he was continually pushing himself on her.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”
“Not sick of me yet?”
“I was sick of you after you spilled the tea all over the table. But,” she paused to shrug and grab a second beer from the fridge. She handed it to him and continued, “now, I dunno, I’m kinda used to ya.”
“Alright, sleepover it is,” he chuckled and sipped at his beer.
He liked Y/N, a lot. Physical attraction aside, she was someone he enjoyed spending time with. She made things easy; the business talk, the ‘get-to-know-you’ banter, all of it. Y/N made just sitting on her floor looking at old pictures fun, and that wasn’t something he’d had much of in his life, as of late. All the drama, and push ‘n pull with Dee has sucked him dry. Fun and easy going hadn't been on his radar in a damn long time.
Jensen was growing more than a little curious about her. She was a mystifying puzzle that he felt compelled to put together so he could see the whole picture of who she was. Yet, he also knew that it wouldn’t be an easy task. Y/N didn’t strike him as the kind of girl that would give away all her secrets or feelings to just anyone. He was going to have to work on it, but if their day together so far had been an indication of her willingness to one day let him in, he felt pretty confident that they could be really good friends.
“So, I gotta ask…” he started, not exactly hesitant on asking, but on how to ask what he wanted to know. “Earlier, when you dared me to polar plunge… why add the song in?”
“Joy to the World?”
“Yeah.”
Y/N closed the album and drew in a subtle and slow deep breath, drawing her knees up into her chest then taking time to consider how to respond. In the quiet of the room, she found Jensen’s eyes and held on to them. He saw hers growing damp at the corners and watched her ignore the one, lone tear that slid down her cheek.
“When I was a kid, I had a bunch of phobias. Some were normal, some, not so much. It got really bad after a while, and my dad tried everything to help me. One day, we were going to the market, and for some reason I was so, so scared to go in. It was summer vacation, and I was gawky and awkward. A bunch of Bennies were hanging out in front and I was petrified to walk past them,” she saw the confusion on his face and clarified. “Bennies are what locals here call the people that come here for the summer.”
Jensen nodded in understanding and then unknowingly mimicked her position and rested his chin on his knees as he listened on.
“Anyway, he said to me… ‘they aren’t going to say a word. I promise’. I said that I didn’t believe him. Trust was scarce in those days. My mom had just left, and everything was upside down. So I even had trouble trusting my dad, the one person I loved more than anyone in the world. He said, ‘Y/N, I’ll bet you anything they don’t’. We finally came to the arrangement that if I was wrong and he was right, then I had to give him the benefit of the doubt the next time something like this came up.”
“And if you were right?” Jensen asked.
“Well, I then got to embarrass him in public by making him walk around and sing Joy to the World. It was the song he hated the most,” she laughed at some long ago memory that she kept to herself, and lingered in it for a while. “But, I don’t know, it just became our thing… he’d say trust me and when it was super important that I did, he would simply say, ‘I bet you Joy to the World that I’m right’.”
Y/N cleared her throat and tightened the grip she had around her legs. This time when she caught Jensen’s gaze, he noticed the tears had finished falling and that her soft smile was directed at him.
“That’s how I knew I could accept this offer and trust you. You did it without question. The fact that you sang the song and committed like you did… I knew my dad would’ve told me to trust you. He would have bet--”
“The world,” Jensen finished for her.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“So, did he have to sing it that first day?”
Y/N chuckled. “Nope. They didn’t even give me a second glance as we walked by.”
“Did he ever have to sing it?”
She lapsed into her contemplative expression, but only for a moment before bringing up her alluring (y/c) eyes to meet his. “Only once. But that’s a story for another time. I think we should take the opportunity to talk about Austin and when this is all going to happen.”
For another hour Jensen and Y/N talked and planned her move to Austin. Exhaustion was finally setting in and neither of them could keep their eyes open. Y/N showed him to the spare room and turned to walk back up the hallway to her own room. Jensen said goodnight, and before he could turn to go it, he saw her pause at her door and look back at him.
“Jensen... I’m sorry if I was cold to you when we first met. I tend to put up a pretty high wall sometimes. I hope you didn’t take it personally.”
“I didn’t.”
“Ok, good. I’m glad the day went the way it did. You surprised me. Not many people can surprise me. I take back what I said earlier. You’re not a shitty actor,” she said with a playful twitch of a smile. “Night, Hollywood.”
Jensen woke a few hours after going to bed and while he wasn’t exactly rested, the four hours he got was enough to energize him to reach the airport. It was a long flight back to Vancouver after all, plenty of time to sleep then. He didn’t want to miss his last chance to see an East Coast sunrise.
Tiptoeing through the bungalow, so as not to wake Y/N, he quietly opened the front door and stepped out into the autumn air. The day was dawning bright with a cotton candy sunrise over the ocean and barely a cloud in sight.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he heard Y/N say.
He whipped around and saw her sitting on the small bench to the side of the house. She had a blanket around her shoulder and a steaming cup in her hands.
“Coffee?” she asked, holding it out to him.
“Bless you,” he sighed gratefully and took the cup. To his surprise, he found she took hers just how he liked his.
She moved over on the bench giving him room to sit and watch the sunrise. He closed his eyes and relished in the luscious taste of the coffee as it warmed his throat.
“Thank you,” he said, handing it back.
“Keep it, that was my third cup,” she chuckled, then reached over to the side of the bench and pulled up her guitar resting it on her lap and lightly strumming the strings.
“Won’t the neighbors complain?”
“They would, but there aren’t any. All these places are summer rentals. Closest year-round neighbors are the Sinatra’s down the beach.”
“Seriously? So, it's just you out here almost all year long?”
“Yup.” She nodded and continued to strum the guitar. The melody she was plucking was familiar, and after a few more beats Jensen came to recognize it.
“That song…” he started and then felt his heart start to beat faster as he realized where he remembered it from. “Its… shit!”
“Well, damn, tell me how you really feel,” she snorted, unsure if she should be offended or laugh.
“No! I Didn't mean it like that. I can’t remember the name of it, but it's familiar as hell. Actually heard it in a dream the other night,” he admitted without realizing how close he came to adding ‘a dream about you, in fact’.
“Oh! It's from Grease, You’re the One That I Want, but like, way slower,” she shrugged. “After talking about the play with you last night, it got stuck in my head. I couldn’t sleep, so I made coffee, grabbed the guitar and came outside to wait for sunrise.”
Y/N looked away from the guitar and over to Jensen. She watched him curiously for a moment, still playing, and with each passing note the song became clearer and clearer in his head. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and he wondered if she felt whatever it was that sat between them. In the span of thirty seconds, he had at least a dozen “I wonder” thoughts cross his mind.
...if her heart is pounding, too
...if she dreamed the song, too
...if she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about me like I was thinking about her
“I got chills, they’re multiplying, and I’m losing control,” she sang, in a breathy whisper that matched the volume of her guitar. “Cause the power you're supplying….”
Her voice gave him goosebumps across his skin, running from his wrist all the way to his neck.
She trailed off with singing but continued the humming the melody as she plucked the chords and brought her gaze to settle out on the horizon. Jensen wished she had kept singing; he wanted to beg her too, but he was afraid that speaking would break the magic of the moment.
From the other side of the yard, a loud buzzing was coming from Jensen’s car. His brow furrowed trying to recognize what it was, then suddenly jumped up and put the cup down on the bench before jogging through the cold sand to the car. When he came back, his cell was in hand as he was scrolling through messages.
“Completely forgot about this last night,” he mumbled to himself. “Yiiikes.”
“Missed a lot, did ya?” she asked, still strumming.
“Yeah. Looks like there was a change in my flight again. Jared has called at least half a dozen times, and about five texts from work. Good times.”
“Sorry I took you off the grid. Just blame me,” Y/N shrugged.
He watched her for a second and realized how carefree and easy she could be when she was comfortable around someone. There was an aura of calm that surrounded her at times and he wanted to absorb it like a sponge. He felt settled around her, and that was something he could get used too.
“I’m not even a little sorry, though, I guess I should get my ass in gear and get back. But…” he trailed off and went back to his phone, pulling up his calendar, “let’s figure out exactly when I should book your ticket to Austin.”
Y/N stopped strumming and gently rested the guitar on the ground beside the bench. She thought for a minute before replying. “I would need at least two weeks to get my shit together and tie up loose ends. So, let’s say, the 18th?”
“Yeah, that works for me. I may be in Vancouver, but I will make sure everything is all set for you.”
Before Y/N could say anything else, his phone started buzzing again. He answered it and began pacing between the house and the car. To give him some privacy, Y/N grabbed her guitar and went back into the bungalow.
Not five minutes later, Jensen came back inside and began to gather up the rest of his stuff to change, but she waved him off. “You can wear those back. Just junk them when you’re there. They belonged to my brother. Doubt he’ll be here anytime soon.”
“You sure?”
“Positive,” she snarked, making it clear brother Dave was a sore subject.
“Alright, well, I guess I should head back. I got the 18th in my calendar, and I will call you when I have more details about the flight and apartment. I’m really looking forward to working with you on this.”
“Same here,” she said and boosted herself to sitting on her kitchen counter. “It's gonna be a good time.”
Jensen had hoped she would see him to the door, and maybe even get a chance to touch her in some way; a handshake, maybe a hug, even. But she didn’t budge from the counter and he wasn't going to push her boundaries.
“Thanks for last night, the whole thing was a lot of fun.” Picking up the car keys from the table he moved towards the door, pausing one last time in hopes she’d come to him,
“It was my pleasure. The guys loved having you at the Bamboo. Save travels, ok? I’ll see you in two weeks.”
And just like that, Jensen felt discouraged, like maybe he had imagined their connection this whole time… had he? He tossed the keys up and caught them, and gave her a firm nod.
“Yes, I will. Two weeks. Take care, Y/N. We’ll talk soon.”
When he was sure she wouldn’t budge, he slipped out of the house and exhaled a rush of air from his lips when he reached the car. He got in, started it up and quickly backed down the dirt lane. Pausing before reversing out to the main drag, he threw it into park and rested his head against the headrest.
“You’re a jackass,” he mumbled to himself. “A grade A, idiotic, jackass.”
Hours later, while Jensen was mid-flight, pensive and unsure, obsessively replaying their entire day and night together, his cell phone started to vibrate from way down in his pocket. When he unlocked it and saw the text notification, he smiled.
From Y/N: “Hope you landed safely. Don’t wanna lose the job before it starts. Take care, Hollywood. Can’t wait for the 18th”
And just like that, he was smiling again.
Good new is, you don’t have to wait long for Part Four!! Its already done and ready to post. Will have it up soon :)
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for the kiss prompt...16 with hardenshipping?
New Year’s kiss
All night the speakers blared with energizing songs that made all the walls in the house shake. Around seventy or so teens filled every nook and cranny of the two story house. Red solo cups were either in tipsy hands or scattered about the floor with the rest of the discarded garbage. How the building was still standing was truly the mystery of the century.
Archie Aogiri was always one for a good party, but his energy was starting to wear thin. This was supposed to be the best party of not one, but two years. The old year would end and the new year would begin both with a bang. Next year he would be walking that stage to get his diploma. That was guaranteed at least. Anything after that was up in the air. If he had a quarter for every time someone asked him what he was going to do with his life, he could afford to go to school without taking out crushing loans that would follow him to the grave. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to sail the vast seas day in and day out without having a captain telling him what to do and when to do it. He wanted to be his own captain. He wanted to live his own life.
He wanted to get out of this place and never look back.
He pulled out his PokeNav and looked at the time.
11:38 P.M.
Twenty-two minutes until the start of the most dreaded year of his life. It was kind of hard to enjoy the party with that thought looming in the back of his mind. His friends couldn't say the same thing. A girl with large, fluffy hair sat on the couch with a group of girls and a few boyfriends thrown into the mix. Whatever their shriek-like laughter was all about, Archie would never know. All he knew was that Shelly was the one who dragged him to this party, but here role as the Mom Friend was thrown out the door after her third drink. His other friend, was nowhere to be found, which is actually kind of funny since he's practically the size of a house. Matt might be downstairs, doing who knows what. Actually, he might be out in the backyard. Archie hasn't been out there all night. That might explain why he hasn't seen him.
Archie was a large and bulky guy, but he tried his very best to make himself as small as possible when wading through the crowd of unsupervised teens. After bumping into a few shoulders and almost getting elbowed in the face, Archie finally found the screen door that led to the backyard. After passing through the doorway, the environment drastically changed. Music from the house still rang through the cool night air, but it was muffled. Only a few people found this escape. Some were passed out in the yard. Or maybe they were stargazing. It was hard to say. Others were dancing more freely in the open yard. One sat on the patio swing, criss-cross applesauce style. The light of his PokeNav illuminated his pale face. He briefly glanced up at Archie before turning his attention back to the device in his hand.
It was clear to see that Matt wasn't out here, but Archie wasn't eager to go back inside just yet. The fresh air was refreshing after being cooped up in a crowded house for a few hours. He could stretch out and take a second to collect himself before returning to the party again.
Archie glanced over at the guy on the swing. It looked like that was the comfiest place to sit other than the ground itself. There was still enough room on it to fit himself and another person. With as much caution as a tipsy teen could have, Archie wandered over to the swing. The guy looked up at him again, this time his stern green eyes met Archie's deep blue.
"This seat taken?" Archie asked.
The guy shrugged. "Guess not," he replied, completely uninterested. His eyes reverted back to the device in hand.
Archie could tell that he wasn't welcomed, but he sat down anyway. He would much rather be uncomfortable out here than in there. His feet gently pushed the swing back and forth. Since he didn't get an order from the guy next to him to stop, Archie kept on doing it.
Without anything else to do, Archie pulled out his PokeNav, but found it hard to focus on the screen. He found his eyes continuing to glance over at the guy beside of him. Thick glasses framed his long face. Red hair was pulled back in a tiny pony tail. Archie tried to put a name to a face, but he didn't recognize the face to begin with.
"Say," Archie started. The redhead didn't move his head, but his eyes looked over at him. "I haven't seen ya around here before."
"That's because I don't live here," came his reply. He didn't further elaborate. Archie didn't think of that to be a satisfactory answer though.
"Where ya from then?"
"Lavaridge."
"Lavaridge? That's an awful long way from Slateport. What brings ya out here? Both here to Slateport and here, like, here here," Archie gestured to the swing.
The light illuminating the red head's face disappeared when he clicked it off. Now the red head looked over at Archie fully, but his eyes didn't look pleased in the slightest. They were droopy with tiredness with a hint of annoyance. "And why do you care?"
"Friendly conversation," Archie replied with a shrug. "This social outing ain't been so social when ya don't like half of the people here."
"Or know them, for that matter," the red head added, shocking Archie for a moment. So he was finally contributing to the conversation a little bit. Archie considered this a success. Now to keep it going.
"So you've been out here all night?"
"Most of it. I snuck instead to get a drink and some snacks but that was pretty much it."
"The cheap drinks they got ain't worth it, in my opinion."
"I second that, but I guess the host had to take what he could get his underage hands on."
Archie laughed at that. The red head even let a small smirk play on his freckly face.
"Why are you here?" he asked. Archie blinked in surprise. Seeing the blank look on his face, the red head elaborated. "If you don't like the people here, then why even bother staying?"
"That ain't my decision to make. I got some friends in there that I don't wanna ditch."
"Then why are you out here?" The red head rested his chin on his hand with a grin. Archie was baffled at first, but matched the grin with one of his own.
"Using my own question against me, huh?"
"I believe it's only fair."
"Well, ya didn't answer it when I asked it."
"Then you're not obligated to answer it when I ask it."
The words sounded like a standoff, but it was anything but. Perhaps it was the drinks. Perhaps it was this instant connection Archie felt. It could be a lot of things or nothing at all. No matter the reason, both of the boys found themselves laughing at their inane conversation.
"Time to say goodbye to this shitty year!" Someone on the inside shouted. They were quickly followed with cheers and hollers from the rest of the drunk teens inside. Both of them checked their PokeNavs. Ten minutes till midnight. Some of the people outside rose from the grass and stumbled their way inside.
"Are you going back inside?" The red head asked with a hint of disappointment, like he already knew what the answer was going to be.
Archie glanced over at the screen door. The cheers were getting louder and louder. He could even see some people pairing off by grabbing each other's hands and pulling each other towards the living room.
"I don't think so," he answered, earning a look of surprise from the red head. "I don't feel like dealing with all that mess just to watch a stupid ball drop." Archie leaned back and rested his arms behind the swing. "Are you headin' in?"
The red head brushed some loose strands of hair behind his ear. "I haven't been in there the majority of the night. I don't see a reason to do it now. It isn't like something magical will happen at the start of the year. Time will continue to tick on at the same rate it always has."
They both sat in silence for a moment. It wasn't awkward. If anything, it was comfortable. Archie looked to the brilliant stars in the sky, but from the corner of his eye he caught the red head looking at him, quick to advert his gaze when Archie turned his head.
"Are you looking forward to the new year?" Archie asked, deciding to break the silence.
"Honestly? I wish Dialga would stop time as we know it just so I won't have to deal with these upcoming months."
"Wow, same."
The red head laughed. "I suppose there's no point in bouncing the question back to you."
"Nah, mate. I can tell next year is totally gonna suck. But I guess there ain't a thing I can do about it."
"Have you ever thought of making it not suck?"
Archie blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Time is inevitable and bad things will always happen. I'm not looking forward to next year. So many things will change. I'll be graduating and going off the college to study in a field that may or may not have any readily available jobs, you know, the whole nine yards. I'm not looking forward to the obstacles that are headed my way, but seeing all of the opportunities that lie past them is honestly quite...exciting."
Archie...never really thought of it like that. He felt his shoulders relax a little bit. "I just gotta show the future who's boss."
"Exactly." The red head nodded.
"Two minutes!" Someone on the inside cheered.
"It's fast approaching," the red head commented. "Are you sure you're not going inside?"
"Why would I want to?" Archie countered. "I've had a better time out here than I have in there."
"Well...you had mentioned that you were with some friends. I didn't know if one of those friends was...you know...something more." The red head scratched his cheek while Archie outright laughed at the absurdity.
"Dude, it ain't like that. This mofo ain't tied down to no one," he laughed and moved his arms to now rest against his knees. "I take it as you ain't got no one either."
"A bold accusation!" he countered, his face going slightly red. "...But an accurate one."
Archie scooted closer to him as his laughter challenged the muffled music. Even the red head started to laugh more to cover his embarrassment than anything else. "Looks like neither of us is gonna be gettin' that New Year's kiss, huh?"
"I suppose not." The red head offered him a sheepish smile, still calming down from the embarrassment. "Unless..."
Archie blinked. "Mate, don't even play," he laughed. "Like hell you swing that way."
"What if I do?" he challenged. "Do you?"
"Well..." A silence overcame the two. The crowd was in the homestretch. Thirty more seconds until midnight. They're eyes met and instead of looking away, they laughed. They laughed and laughed and laughed.
"A'ight man, whatever. We gonna do this thing?" Archie stated more than he asked.
"Are we going to do this?" The red head scooted oh so closer to him. Twenty seconds.
"Fuck it, mate. Let's fuckin' do this."
"I never expected this was how the night was going to turn out, but I'm certainly not complaining," he laughed.
"Five!"
"Are we for real?"
"You tell me. Are we?"
"Four!"
They both laughed.
"Three!"
Their heads inched closer together.
"Two!"
Snickers left their lips.
"One!"
A second of hesitation would have been detrimental. They closed their eyes and met each other half way. Archie planned on giving him a small peck and then moving away, but he didn't. He...actually liked it. The red head must have felt the same way.
"Happy New Year!!!!"
It was illegal for residents to shoot off fireworks in this neighborhood, so when red and blue lights flashed down the street followed with a siren, both of their eyes snapped open.
"It's the fucking cops!"
The sound of glass breaking quickly followed. "EVERYONE SCATTER!"
They broke away and were quick to hop to their feet. Archie needed to find Matt and Shelly and he needed to find them NOW.
"I-uh-" Archie stammered.
"It was, uh, it was really nice meeting you-"
"Archie, bro!" A booming voice came from behind. The human building himself came bolting through the door with a very intoxicated Shelly thrown over his shoulder.
"Matt, there ya are!"
"Archie?" the red head repeated. Before Archie could further comment, Matt leaned down and scooped Archie up and tossed him over his shoulder like he was a tiny toddler despite Archie's sounds of protest.
"Matt, let me down!!!"
"No way, dude! We gotta book it!"
Archie buried his face in his hands, separating his fingers just enough to see the red head reach out for him, only to draw his hand back to himself the further down the yard Matt ran. He looked around before finally running away himself.
Matt charged right through the wooden fence that separated this yard from the neighbor's yard. Archie hid his face even further while Shelly laughed at the fact Matt actually charged through a fence. She was also really drunk. Everything was funny.
"Soooooo, who was tall, white, and nerdy?" she asked, reaching over to poke Archie's arm.
Archie's eyes snapped open in realization.
"I never got his name."
#awesome anon#hardenshipping#team aqua archie#team magma maxie#team aqua shelly#team aqua matt#fanfic
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YO HEY SPACE GRUMPS STUFF YEAH
Also on ao3 now :) @dannyaviclan
Darkness . And suffocation. And the sharp pain of needles pricking into every inch of his exposed body.
It filled Dan’s head as he breathed harshly into the air around him. His hands squeezed at his sheets, eyes wide open, as he searched for something to ground him. Remind him he wasn’t in that /horrible/ place anymore.
With another shuddered breath, Dan pushed himself up to a sitting position, reaching aimlessly along the side table for the light before remembering that wasn’t the way to turn a light on in the future.
Running the same hand down his face, Dan let his eyes fall shut, quietly asking, “Barry. Lights please?” Shivering as they flickered on.
Slowly he opened his eyes, squinting at the harsh change in lighting, and felt a little relief seep into him.
He was home. It was okay. They couldn’t touch him here. Brian and Arin won’t let them.
He’d already been back a week and still the memories plagued him. Still he jumped at unexpected noises. And tensed up at the sound of footsteps approaching. And flinched at any sort of raised object.
He’d been saved and yet still he kept acting like he hadn’t.
It was pathetic.
Dan rubbed at his eyes painfully, refusing to let that escalate any further, and got up on shaky limbs to grab his leather jacket. It always made him feel good, with the long gone earthy scent and band patches holding it together.
Slipping it on, Dan sighed, walking across the room to curl up in a big arm chair. He ran a thumb over the dull pink stitching along the left arm. A phantom pain shot through his wrist.
Right. Arin must have sewed it back together after they’d taken him.
With a deep breath, Dan pulls his legs up to his chest and looks up to the ceiling, where he often discerns Barry to be located at.
“Hey Barry? Where is Arin at? Is he asleep?”
“The Captain is currently drawing in the observation deck. Should I call him down here?”
Dan shakes his head after breathing through the crackling through the speakers. It was eerily similar to… well. Yeah.
“Are you okay, Danny?”
The often times human like A.I. always through Dan off. He was a friend but a machine. But then again, so is Ross. Barry is just a spaceship rather than a robot. Android. Whatever.
“Yeah man. I’m okay. I just-… I don’t know man. I should be okay. I am okay.”
“You should go talk to Arin. He’s worried about you.”
Dan sucked in a breath, glancing around subconsciously in suspicion. “How do you know? Did he tell you anything?”
“Mm no. I can tell. Plus he keeps scratching out incomplete drawings. And he hasn’t taken off his gloves since we got you back. They’re pretty big indicators that something is bothering him. It’s only logical that he’s worried about you.”
He rubbed his thumb over the pink stitching again. Tracing the thin string with his eyes. Dan idly wondered why Arin sewed the leather together rather than just use some kind of future clothing fixer thing. That’s how he kept fixing Brian’s shit right? In any case, Dan was happy for the more modern, or well maybe not modern anymore, way of fixing things. The stitching made him feel safe. More at home.
“Maybe I will…,” he finally replied, Barry humming at his response.
“So do it.”
Dan huffed a weak laugh and shoved his gangly legs to the floor, pulling himself out of the chair. “I’m going! Geeze. Nice talking to you too, Barry.”
“Danny, you know I love our interactions. But you and I both know I’m not the one to be talking to right now. In fact, later tomorrow you should hang out with Brian as well. He’s been testier than usual.”
“I just got everyone worked up, huh.”
“Well yeah man. Everyone loves you. With all due respect, I think you were the most ideal person to take out of all of us. You just… Everyone loves you. So much.”
With a flush, Dan started at the wall, shaking his head and tugging the jacket closer as he pulled his blanket up to wrap tightly around himself. “Uhh I guess. Thanks Barry. I don’t think Ross was too affected though. He seems to still be suspicious of me.”
“You’d be surprised. Now quit stalling. Go talk to Arin. Before I cut off the power in here.”
Flipping him off with a laugh, Dan walked out the door with a roll of his eyes, blanket cape trailing behind him dramatically. “Yeah yeah. You have too much power.” His laugh quickened a bit as he ran for the door, the lights in his room flickering. “I’m going! Fuck dude! Chill.”
The lights stopped, staying on in the dull white they usually shown as Dan exited the room.
The observation deck. Right.
Just as Barry said, there sat Arin, plain as day, quietly doodling with his back to Dan. And that was odd. Arin usually perked up to his scent before Dan even entered the room.
As Arin let out a frustrated growl, pencil almost ripping through the thin paper, Dan cleared his throat, causing Arin to jump, pencil skittering across the floor.
Dan quietly picked it up before making his way next to Arin, plopping down to a criss cross Applesauce.
“Hey.”
Arin looked at Dan with wide eyes, drawing pad close to his chest. Dan raised an eyebrow, half smirk lingering on his face. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry man.”
With a quick shake of his head, Arin looked back down before tucking some hair behind his ear. It was usually up when he was feeling professional, but he kept it down otherwise. “It’s okay dude. I just wasn’t expecting you to be out and about. Especially at this hour.”
“Does time even exist in space? I mean each planet has it’s own day and night cycle so like. Technically when we’re drifting, can’t we just like make our own cycle?”
“Uhm well I guess that’s true. But I’ve tried to keep going by terra’s cycle ya know? It’s what I’m used to.”
Dan hummed in response, pulling up his knees and pulling the blanket tighter. He took in Arin’s tense form, sweat pants pulled taut and the back of his black shirt lightly perpetrated with sweat. Maybe Dan shouldn’t have come… Maybe he was intruding…
“Uh sorry. I just… couldn’t sleep. I can go though, if you’d rather be a-”
“N-no! No it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting you. But for real, Danny. It’s fine.”
Dan frowned, looking out the window at the vastness of space. “You never call me Danny. Or well, you do when I’m being particularly dense. Or when you’re worried about me. Or when you’re upset. So am I being stupid right now? Or did something happen.”
With a sigh, Arin laid his head on Dan’s shoulder, eyes shut, gloved fists clenched. “I’m not upset. And you’re not stupid. I just…. I’m glad you’re back, man. I REALLY really am. It’s just… ugh. Sorry. I don’t know. I’m glad you’re okay.”
Dan hummed, gripping his thin pajama pants as a distraction for his hands. He looked down at Arin, a light smile being forced. For Arin’s sake. “Hey dude, it’s fine. I’m okay now. Because you guys saved me. Thank you by the way. I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”
Arin was quiet for a few seconds before letting out a low huff. He sat up straighter, but kept his head down, face curtained by hair. “You really don’t remember us saving you, huh.”
“Uhm. Yeah? Or at least, parts. I remember you kicking the door down. And I remember Brian picking me up. Or… no. He went to pick me up? But then you did. It’s all… Sorry. Like I said. Parts. I also remember Mark being on the ship? He helped heal me, right? Because I was pretty messed up? Still pretty messed up…. But he helped with at least the physical wounds. Though I have this wicked scar on my side now.”
Arin cleared his throat and clutched the pad a little tighter. His voice was low enough to force Dan to strain to hear him. As if speaking too loud would shatter the window separating them from the void outside. “You uh. Yeah. You were just… I remember laughing with you. About something stupid. And thinking, ‘nothing could get better than this’. But then we took that fucking job. And you were taken. And I just… I just watched. I couldn’t move-”
“You were paralysed, Ar. Remember? They shot you.”
“It doesn’t matter!” He growled. Dan stared with wide eyes at his friend’s feral expression. It was… scary. Honestly. And that was the last word Dan would associate with Arin. “They took You! They took you right from under me and I couldn’t do a Damn thing! Ross told me something was fishy about that job! But no! I just /had/ to take it. And then you were gone and I didn’t know what to do and we didn’t even know who they were and I just-”
“Arin, it’s fine though. You saved me. It’s okay-”
This time Arin stood up, eyes nearly glowing in the dark as he stared down at Dan. He looked every inch of rage and frustration. “It’s not okay, Dan. It’ll never be okay until I rip those bastards piece by fucking piece for what they did to you. You may not really remember what happened but I do! I remember the look on your face. Like I was about to eat you alive. How you kept asking for me and Brian to save you and fighting is, like we were imposters. I remember how your fucking fingers were twisted and broken and misshapen and the way your body looked paper thin and all the cuts and bruises, like they just tossed you about. I fucking remember Daniel. And it’s not something I’m going to ever forget. So no. It’s not okay. Because I had to get you out of there. I tried to kill them. Every fucking one, but I had to get to you. I let them take you. I had to be the one to save you.”
Dan stood up too, blanket falling into a forgotten puddle, and taking in Arin’s now defeated and angered form. He stepped forward, trying to deny the shaking in his hands. Honestly it was horrifying. Hearing about everything they went through while he was gone. And Dan is building brick wall after brick wall in his mind as the memories resurfaced. But he couldn’t afford to have a break down here. Not when Arin needed him.
Dan took Arin’s shorter but thicker hands into his, rubbing his thumb gently into the knuckles, trying to get Arin to at least relax his hands. It kind of worked, as Arin slowly uncurled them, only to grip Dan’s in a much tighter grip than he was expecting. “You did save me though. You did it, Ar. You came in and took out those in your way and got me out of that Hell. It’s over. And I’m never going to leave again, okay? I promise.”
“But what if-”
“No.” Dan shook his head, pulling Arin into a tight hug. Claws dug into his back despite the thick gloves and Dan was pretty sure that was tears being pressed against his neck, but he didn’t care. He meant what he said. He was never going to leave. Those on this ship are his family. Even if he found a way back to his time, Dan didn’t care. Brian, Arin, Barry, Ross, everyone. He wasn’t leaving them anytime soon.
Dan pulled back and tried to look at Arin’s eyes but the hair was too thick and it appeared Arin wasn’t going to help him out anytime soon. So with a frustrated grunt, Dan kept an arm around Arin’s shoulders, raising the other to move some hair behind his ear again. “Arin. Look at me.”
Slowly, but surely, Arin looked up at Dan, but kept drifting his eyes across the room, not sure what to focus on. Dan sighed. It would just have to do. “Hey,” he said a bit softer, his smile now coming a bit easier. “Arin. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. You did it, man. You saved me and yeah okay so things still suck ass, but at least we have each other, right? And the ship’s still intact. And we know who the bad guys are now. So that’s a plus, right?”
Arin nodded, looking down again. “They’re the same people that… let this happen to me. I was- I was taken prisoner and they just… let it happen and-”
“Hey. You don’t have to tell me. Not until you’re ready.”
Arin nodded again, a relieved sigh falling from his lips. “Thanks Dan. Though I should be comforting you here. I’m your Captain. Hell, none of this even happened to me. I should be fi-”
“Mmm nope. You’re my friend. And you’re a person. With thoughts and emotions just like the rest of us. You’re allowed to be freaked out when bad people kidnap your best friend.”
Arin made a self deprecating sound in his laugh and subconsciously held Dan a little tighter, staring at the pink thread in the leather jacket Dan loved so much. “That’s the first time you’ve said it out loud. Or at least that I’ve heard.”
“Is it? Weird.”
They fell into silence as Dan drew Arin into a second Hug. Arin needed it, and he didn’t mind so what was the harm.
“I’m really glad you’re safe, Danny,” Arin whispered as he buried his face in Dan’s neck.
Smiling, Dan nodded back, pressing his lips to the side of Arin’s head, just above his ear. “Me too, man. I’m glad you’re safe, too.”
#space grumps#my fic#me#writing#slight egobang?#whoops#dannyaviclan#you're au seriously has me fucked up#polygrumps#shipgrumps#ficgrumps#fanfic
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MBB 2
Mind: I am feeling a lot more confident and capable this week. It’s kind of like a RPG where you level up your skills and unlock new capabilities: I have leveled up my baby-handling skills and have unlocked the ability to make waffles with one arm, find the perfect angle to get a baby burp out, have become desensitized to shrill screams (these used to immobilize me and make me panic) can change a diaper in half the time, and have grown immune to being sprayed with urine and splattered with poop. Seriously, I am feeling much better. I was teetering with the dread of PPD, but I really feel like I am beginning to stabilize and handle my business better. That doesn’t mean that this is easy now; it’s still the hardest thing I’ve ever done. However it seems doable and even enjoyable.
Body: We are at the three week point now, and my body feels almost normal. I’m still bleeding (ugh) but other than that my surgery isn’t slowing me down. I can walk my dogs again, lift my baby out of his rock n’ play, get out of bed to soothe him without wanting to die, and even sit criss-cross applesauce. It’s AMAZING to finally be able to do these simple things. I wasn’t able to comfortably maneuver myself for the last two months of pregnancy, and then had to go through the recovery of birth, so it’s been a while since I’ve felt this good. My belly is still shrinking, but I still can’t fit into any of my old pants or shorts, so I am inevitably in leggings and gym shorts. I am, again, trying to be patient with myself, and focus on the feat my body accomplished, rather than worry about never being able to wear what I want again. It’s hard.
Baby: Baby Luke has grown leaps and bounds. He is so alert, and carries himself like a much older baby. I have multiple apps that provide insight as to milestones he should be hitting at his age, and he’s hitting the ones that are for 5-8 week old babies, even though he is 3 weeks old today. He absolutely loves music, and when he’s fussing I will play it and dance with him in my arms and he immediately calms down. He will even drift off to sleep if I play a slow song. He really likes Jason Derulo. He sucks on his fingers, coos, keeps eye contact, lifts his head, sticks his tongue out, and much more. I am really excited to continue to watch him develop and get to the point where he is a bit more sentient, but I know I will miss him being this little, so I’m trying to bask in every moment.
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Cat Lady
Week #4
Lucy is a character I want to detail in a variety of stories, many of which will feature her friend Britt. I’m not confident I have their character’s nailed down, which is why I need to do so. They’re somewhat important.
This story is the first, and it might be a standout. After a full night of racking my brain for ideas, I slammed these thousand words down in an hour. So it’s coming from a rather visceral place that you can probably read into. I haven’t edited it, and I likely won’t? because of course I need to be willing to crap this stuff out and never look back. So here’s to that. *clinks licorice tea glass against monitor, spiliing tea on my keyboard*
When Lucy was a kid, her neighbors asked her to catsit for 2 weeks while they were out town. Every day when she came home from school, even though she had homework to get to, she would go straight into the living room to pet the cat. Her mom would seize the opportunity to ask her how her day went, and she would give a brief summary before bringing up her homework and excusing herself. For the first week this was the case. But finals were next week, and she needed to make use of all the time available to her, so over the weekend, Lucy locked herself in her room to study.
The goings were rough, and the word problems were tough, but Lucy carefully staved off distractions. She put her phone on silent and her laptop on airplane mode, and even then she found herself rereading sentences until they stuck. But she was as in the zone as she could be, and that's what counted.
Then her mom called up to remind her about the cat. The call ripped her from her state of zen. She realized there were responsibilities at conflict here. But her work took greater precedence, so she called back down to her mother and said she couldn't come at the moment. Her mom's cry of “awww,” was cut off by Lucy closing the door. She resumed her study. It took her about an hour to reenter her zen state, but once she had things went swimmingly. She finished reviewing her Geography flash cards at 8:00 PM, but she still had 3 subjects to go that Saturday evening.
And her mom called up to remind her about the cat. It needed it's food and water changed, not to mention some attention. This frustrated Lucy greatly, but she knew it was getting late, and she was better off finishing that chore before continuing into the night. She ran down the stairs to the living room and grabbed the bowls from the corner. Her mom greeted her with delight, thanking her for being responsible. Lucy silently cleaned and refilled the bowls in the kitchen, then brought them back for the cat. Her mom said, “I think you'd better give him some pets before you run back off again. He misses you.”
Lucy stared at her, then at the cat, who was already busy chowing down his food. “Wish I could mom, but I gotta get back to work.” She headed back upstairs, somewhat abject, and got to getting back to work.
THE NEXT DAY, SUNDAY MORNING
Lucy woke with her face in a textbook, and her mom poking her shoulder. “Hey you,” she remarked, “The cat's downstairs if you want a good wake-up from him...”
Lucy blinked at her, half-processing. “That- That was a plenty good *yawn* wake-up right there, mom. I gotta find where I left off.” Lucy had intended to pull an all-nighter. She'd lost a lot of ground overnight, and she wasn't even sure how much yet. That made her grouchy enough as is, not to mention the uncomfortable, unsatisfying desk-sleep she'd gotten.
Her mother frowned at her. “Alright, well don't deprive yourself of sleep and snuggles just for this.” She left Lucy alone, thank god.
Lucy buckled down. She cracked open boxes of cereal to eat raw, as substitutes for meals. She peed in the crappy, tiny upstairs bathroom instead of the one downstairs she usually used. And she focused all her efforts on staying in the zen zone of her room.
But her mom called up to remind her about the cat. Lucy snapped to look at the clock, it was somehow 6 PM. Her mom called “Hey sweetie, I think the cat wants some love!”
“Love!? It wants, love??” She shouted back.
“Yeah, is that too much to ask?” Coerced her mother.
“Yeah!!! Right now it is!”
“Well that's too bad! Come down hear and show him some attention.”
Lucy's eyes widened in frustration. She closed her laptop, snatched it up, and stormed down the stairs with it under her arm. As she entered the living room, her mother once again greeted her with delight. Lucy once again said nothing. She looked around the room for the cat, and found it cowering underneath the pedals of the exercise bike. She dropped her laptop on the couch, went over to the cat, and sat criss-cross applesauce next to it, facing away from her mom. The cat slinked away.
Her mother spoke up. “Boy a real grumpus, aren't we?”
Lucy's mouth tightened. “Yeah. Now's not a good time for this, I think.”
“What? Of course it is. Here, if you turn around you can watch TV with me while you pet him.”
Lucy turned around and saw the Big Bang Theory was on. That was the last straw.
“Mom, I'm busy!”
“Oh come on, you're always busy. I've seen you all of five minutes today.”
Lucy stared at her mom, overcome with the feeling that she was being extremely selfish. She decided to get up and leave. As if reading her mind, her mom asked her if she could perform a favor. Lucy asked what. She said the neighbors were posting online about missing their precious cat.
“...And?” said Lucy.
“Can you take a picture of him, for me to send them?”
“Why can't you take a picture mom?” she asked
“Well, you're better with technology...”
Lucy stared at her mom, sitting on the couch with iPad outstretched in a trap. She looked back at the cat and realized he'd escaped to the opposite corner of the room. He was in the jumpy sort of mood that would make this job very difficult. She got up, took the iPad, and set about trying to take a picture of him. The light was low, and the iPad's camera sucked, so her mom rephrased that goal to a good picture of him.
After a while of giving angling advice from the peanut gallery, which made Lucy fume, her mother got up to help corral him into a good spot in the center of the room. Their combined efforts were enough to get some acceptable products, ready for shipping to the lonely set of parents who'd missed their fur-baby. But it took a half-hour which felt to Lucy like an epoch.
She passed the iPad back to her mom, who admitted she could go upstairs now. Lucy rebutted “I'd go upstairs anyway, thanks. I told you I was busy mom!”
“Well, thanks for sacrificing your precious time.” thanked her mother.
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I can put on a show
rahizah81
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