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cherry-moonlight · 4 years

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Life Could Be A Dream - Chapter Five

{NOS4A2 - Charlie Manx x Reader}

{A/N} Sorry this one took a little longer, mid-chapter my wrists started acting up. Carpal tunnel is a monster. D: Anyways, I hope you enjoy and that I’m doing our beloved Charlie some justice at least so far. <3 Warnings: None.

Chapter Five - This Isn’t Real

My voice had returned and my mind was racing even more than I expected it could’ve when Vic stopped talking. She picked up a pen from the table we sat at in the kitchen and fidgeted with it, clicking the top a few times as she looked me in the eye. It was clear she was waiting for any kind of response to the boatload of information she’d dumped on me.

“So I’m a… strong creative,” I made air quotes around the words that sounded more like a question than a statement.

She looked at me and nodded. “You don’t need to lose your voice every time you use it, though. I have a friend who’s just like us. Her name’s Maggie.. She figured out how to keep herself from dealing with the cost of using her gift.”

“What’s her gift?” I interrupted, curious.

“Her tiles,” she rasped. “She has a purple bag with scrabble tiles in them. They’ll tell you anything you want or need to know as long as you ask them. But, we have gotten the tiles mixed up before.”

All of this sounded like some magical bologna that I could’ve found in a novel somewhere, and had I not used my gift myself and seen the outcome with my own eyes, I would’ve laughed and told her she was losing her mind.

“Anyway, Maggie told me you either have to hurt yourself… or someone else.”

It sounded as though she was reluctant to tell me the latter of the two options.

“What’s the cost of your gift?” I asked again.

She hesitated, setting the pen down and looking me in the eye. “My eye,” was all she said, and I put it together.

I had seen her come back countless times that week with a bloodied eye, but the last time it seemed to have gotten worse. When we left Christmasland, it was bleeding. It all clicked then.

“But Maggie burns herself with a cigarette every time she uses her tiles,” she continued. “I’m sure you can find something to keep you from losing your voice. You have to focus on the pain in order to make it work. But don’t hurt people, {Y/N}.”

I nodded, taking mental notes of her advice. I’d never been told to hurt myself for any reason before but I guessed there were a lot of things that were new to me when it came to this seemingly supernatural situation. My lungs filled with air as I absentmindedly sighed. It felt as though I was thrust into a film and forced to figure out the plot. I was more thankful for Vic than I could’ve ever expressed.

The clock on the wall felt as though it ticked slower than usual as I realized how late it was. Time had gotten away from all of us once we’d started looking for Wayne together. After Vic extracted me from Christmasland on her dirt bike through the tunnel I saw in the forest, she instructed me not to say a word to anyone about what had happened. Wanting to gain her trust enough to figure out what all of this meant, I complied. Once we arrived back at their place and Lou went to bed, she stayed up to elucidate what was going on. But before she got into my gift, she explained that hers was not what I thought was a tunnel, but the bridge.

She called it an inscape. Her “shorter way.”

But after all of our efforts, it came to be that Wayne hadn’t actually been missing. He’d simply run off to play and threw Vic and Lou -and me- into a spiral of worry. Or at least, that was his story and he was sticking to it.

“Your knife is your voice,” she began again. “And your inscape…” Her brow furrowed as she looked around, picking up the pen again. “Well, I’m not sure. What were you doing when you found Christmasland?”

“Singing,” I said immediately. “I was looking for Wayne and singing.”

She clicked the pen on the table a few times, looking as though she were completely uneasy.

“Maybe you have a shorter way, too,” she swallowed hard, as though that wasn’t the first thing to come to mind.

“But Wayne was never at Christmasland,” I added.

“No.. No he wasn’t. But that bastard Charlie Manx is trying to change that.”

Ah. Charlie Manx.

The man of the evening that I wanted desperately to know so much more about. Vic had abruptly taken me from Christmasland without so much as an explanation, and at least now I knew why she was there. Still, curiosity had gotten the better of me to say the least. He was all I could think about during our search for Wayne and I was slightly bitter that I didn’t get to figure out what I was doing at the winter wonderland in the past through questioning him. He seemed to know far more about me than I knew about myself.

“What about him, anyway?” I questioned, trying not to sound as though I were too excited to get into the subject. “Who is he? What is Christmasland? Where is Christmasland?”

She leaned back in the chair, slipping out of her motorcycle jacket and hanging it on the backrest as her eyes seemed to grow dark.

“Christmasland is Charlie Manx’s inscape. It’s just a big, intricate figment of his sick imagination. His knife is a classic Rolls Royce Wraith, and he picks up innocent kids and he kidnaps them with it, and then brings them to Christmasland.”

Her voice became rushed and shaky.

“Once they’re there.. Well, I don’t know if they ever get out. They turn into something else.. Something inhuman. They attack people and they think he’s their father.”

She spit the words out like venom on the tongue. I wasn’t sure why, but I almost felt offended that she was speaking of him that way. My thoughts drifted back to when he called me by his last name.

“He thinks he’s doing them a service, these kids, by taking them from what he calls “neglectful parents” and giving them the home they never had,” her expression twisted into a cringe. “It’s somethin’ out of a horror movie. Probably why the plate on the Wraith says Nosferatu…” she finished, the statement sounding like a solemn attempt at a joke.

I had a voice now but I still sat in silence, mulling over everything she’d said. It was easy to remain quiet, especially when I had no idea how to handle what was going on when none of it seemed real. It was a lot to grasp, but the more information I had, the better. I must’ve looked as though I were deep in thoughts I shouldn’t have been having, because she reached over and grabbed my wrist then, her slender fingers squeezing it tightly.

“You can’t go back to Christmasland, {Y/N}. No matter what you do or what you think you need. It’s not safe. He’ll kill you. He’s tried to kill me, and Maggie, and..” she trailed off, clearly remembering something else. “Just don’t go, okay? Promise me.”

Somewhere deep in my chest, I felt a pang of hurt again. That kind of sensation where your heart breaks and you know the tears are next. Holding it in, I looked her in the eye, and against what I knew I wanted, I nodded.

“I promise.”

-x-x-x-

This was all more information than I could process in a day. My eyes were heavy as I layed on the couch and pulled the fuzzy blanket they’d given me over my shoulders. The house creaked and groaned occasionally as it settled for the night and it was warm and cozy inside despite the chill outside.

My day had been long and confusing, from the funeral, to visiting my house to grab my things, to finding myself at Christmasland. While I knew I promised Vic I’d never go back, I couldn’t shake the thought of it. The way the snow glistened under the lights; the way the maze of ice seemed to go for miles; the way the houses looked like gingerbread creations and— the way he smiled. His dark, deep set eyes narrowing at the corners just a bit as his lips pulled upwards with them. As though he had a million secrets and he was about to let you in on every single one of them.

I rolled over on the couch, and tried to think of something else as I dozed off, but I couldn’t help that my thoughts were too adamant for my own good. I didn’t understand how I could’ve been so captivated by him, especially after Vic’s rendition of Charlie as she knew him. Something deep inside told me I knew another version, and I just had to figure out which. But I’d made a promise to her, and learning about him personally was no longer an option. No matter how hard I tried to think of anything else, the last fragments of imagination that materialized behind my eyelids were of him.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the road to what I thought before was nowhere. The snow topped trees lined either side, but the moon in the sky was brighter than usual— in fact, so were the stars and everything else that surrounded me. The entire Milky Way could be seen above me, and everything I set eyes on was awe inspiring. Studying myself, I noticed I wore a deep crimson rockabilly halter dress with a big black bow tied in the back. I felt like a present wrapped under a tree, and while dresses weren’t my norm, I felt just as pretty as the atmosphere around me.

Oh, it was my usual dream, but it seemed every time I dreamt it, the more it changed. This time, it was gorgeous.

Snowflakes fell like glitter as I made my way forward, admiring the beauty of the surreal world that surrounded me. It was as though everything was suddenly clearer; as though my place in this icy dreamscape was solidified. My ears caught vague hints of the song that brought me to Christmasland, and I quickly realized that I was facing the wrong way. The twinkling lights weren’t ahead of me anymore, but a spectrum of colorful lights caught my attention as they reflected against the snow from behind me. With a deep breath I tried to conceal my smile. If I couldn’t visit it in real life anymore, my dreams did me the honor.

Upon turning around, I was met with the sight of Christmasland’s gates just up ahead. I’d finally reached my destination, and I knew exactly what my dream was all about. The entire time my subconscious was trying to remind me of a memory; a memory I’d soon revisit.

Seemed a little dramatic to me to have the dream so often, especially after how short my time there was, but at least I knew. I knew that there was more to me than just being the girl with a rough past and an unstable future.

When I took a step forward, I heard his voice.

“It is wonderful, isn’t it?” He said somewhat wistfully.

Charlie had appeared next to me at some point and I hadn’t even noticed in my mystified state. Still, just as he had in person, he stood a small distance away from me. I hoped my voice worked this time as I opened my mouth to speak.

“It’s beautiful,” I smiled.

Thank goodness I still had my voice. However, I had to remind myself this was only a dream. Even if it was lucid, it mattered not what I said or how I said it. But it was still the only chance I’d get to immerse myself in whatever fantasy this was anymore. It was the only place I could let my desires run freely without the repercussions of losing my only friend, and really, my only hope as survival. I rolled with my audience of Charlie Manx. Maybe my subconscious could answer a few of my burning questions about the situation, but he spoke before I could again.

“I must say, I was surprised to see you so quickly after your mother’s passing. My condolences..” He ended his sentence with a hint of joy, as though he were glad the death of my mother brought me to Christmasland, accident or not.

“It wasn’t my intention, but I guess it was meant to happen.”

I held my hands in front of me, letting our eyes meet. The electricity I felt buzzed through the air. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I didn’t want to lose myself so soon in the illusion. Fidgeting with the ends of my hair, I stood taller and began my small line of questioning.

“What is this place? Why do you know me?”

There was a glint in his eye as I spoke to him, as though he were absorbing my voice, some kind of odd pride becoming him. With a wave of his hand to gesture me to follow, he began a stroll towards the gates. I did as he suggested, wanting to hear what he was going to say.

“What do you remember?” He countered instead.

Damn it.

I tried my best to pull any memory I could from the darkest parts of my mind, sighing with a faint shrug.

“Not much.. I remember riding the carousel.. And playing the carnival games. Running between the flashing lights and laughing with other children,” I tried to rattle off, hoping a new memory would suddenly appear. “I remember how to get out of the maze, but I can’t remember ever being there..”

I peeked over at him.

“You did love the carousel,” was all he said, like he was waiting for me to make a breakthrough on my own. Until he spoke again.

“You were a model child at Christmasland, my dear. You played well with the others, made sure no one was left out. In fact, you enjoyed Millie’s company very much.”

Millie…

The name rang a bell, but before I had time to ask, he continued.

“You came to us one day quite on your own, which hadn’t happened before, and hasn’t happened again. I’m sure you’ve realized by now that that voice of yours brings you to Christmasland. Of course, you didn’t know that the night your father laid hands on your mother. But you left your cruel home to soothe yourself with song. The next thing we all knew, there you were. Tearful, and quite pitiful-looking outside of the Candy Cane Gates.”

“I came here on my own..” I reworded out loud, attempting to piece together any thoughts from that night.

It happened in my house more often than not, more often than anyone should’ve endured or any child should’ve seen. I remembered the night I left, the only night I left. For the life of me, I could not remember singing my way to Christmasland. At the same time, it was nice to hear that my scrambled memories weren’t just things I’d made up or imagined. They were real. I was there. Then again, no matter how vivid the entire dream was, I had to remind myself it was just that. A dream. This was all coming from my own mind.

“From then on we took you in,” he finished. “I knew there was something special about you.. That you were a strong creative, just as myself. That, and you wouldn’t have dreamed of putting yourself in a predicament that would place you on the naughty list.”

He offered a charming smirk at his quirky bit of information about me and I looked away, fighting the pull towards him I felt when he did. I assumed that my need to be good was out of fear after what Vic told me about him. But what he said next surprised me.

“You must bring Bruce Wayne McQueen to me, {Y/N}.”

My brows pinched together almost immediately. Victoria was right.. Or was this just my subconscious making Victoria right?

“Why?” was all I said.

“Because he wants to be here, with me, my dear. He’s told me so himself. I was well on my way to helping him, and then you made an appearance at Christmasland.. I’m man enough to admit that your surprise arrival distracted me enough to let the boy slip away. You must help me get him back now. Do not listen to Victoria. She doesn’t understand how unhappy her son is. He longs to join me and the other children. To finally be safe from her derelict ways of alcoholism and neglect.”

For being my dream, the request was odd.

“I— I would never bring Wayne here.. Vic told me all about you. All about how you think you’re doing right by these children but you’re not. I would never betray her like that. She’s given me a home when she didn’t...“ I cut myself off and regrouped, not wanting to get personal, whether it was real or not.

Despite my rattling off, he didn’t make a sound. He simply let me, as though he knew something I didn’t. As though it didn’t matter what I said, because he would find his way anyway.

“This isn’t even real.” I continued, stopping in my tracks, not moving any further towards the gates. “You’re not here. I don’t know why my thoughts are panning out this way, but I’m not bringing Wayne to Christmasland. I don’t know why I chose to stay here when I was a kid but I have a feeling I didn’t have a choice.”

He stopped several ahead and turned to face me. Shaking my head, I ran my hand back through my hair and dared to let my eyes rest on his again. There was a hint of sorrow in his eyes, like I’d disappointed him— but only for a second. I immediately began to speak again.

“This isn’t real,” I repeated, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince anymore.

“Not real?” The expression on his handsome features changed into something near mischievousness as he arched a single thick brow and approached me. It was the closest he’d gotten to me since we’d met again.

My heart pounded in my chest as I wondered what was going to happen. Each step he took was slow and calculated. It felt as though he didn’t want to get so close, but had a point to prove in doing so. My dress began to feel tight around my chest as I tried to steady my breathing.

Can you die from a dream?

He towered over me once we were opposite each other, and I allowed myself to look up, holding his gaze. Swallowing hard, I inhaled deeply and waited for whatever fate was to become me, mustering the strength to endure whatever was going to happen should I not wake up. It crossed my mind to pinch myself; to wake up before anything traumatic happened. But something within me wanted to stay. It was a strange sensation to stare what might’ve been my brightest dream or darkest nightmare in the face and not know which way the chips were going to fall.

Confusion was all I could sift through when his large hand reached for my neck, placing his thumb and index finger on either side of it as his palm rested lightly against my clavicle. I watched his features, noticing his jaw clench just enough for me to wonder if I had imagined it.

My {E/C} eyes were full of fear that I knew he had to see, but I stood still, waiting for his grip to tighten or his careful movements to turn into some kind of gruesome act. But as the seconds passed, I instead felt how cold his hand was despite not feeling the chill in the air around us; how gentle his touch was against my warm flesh. He treated me as though I were a porcelain doll, set to break at any moment if he made the wrong move. The faintest of smiles placed itself on his lips then, and my heart kicked up for a different reason that I hoped he couldn’t detect in my pulse.

“Wake up,” he instructed, showing off the velvet in his voice.

I gasped awake. Blinking my eyes rapidly through the blackness that was the dark room to gain any kind of clarity about my surroundings. I haphazardly reached over to the coffee table in front of the couch, tapping my phone’s screen for the time before looking around the room through the small amount of light. It was the middle of the night and I was still at Vic’s. Of course the dream wasn’t real. A quiet laugh passed through my nose as I shook my head and settled back into the couch, listening to the quietness around me. Almost hoping deep down that I would hear his voice again. But it all was silent.

What a strange dream it had been this time.

Charlie Manx had certainly made an impression on me, and I wasn’t sure yet in what kind of way. I didn’t want to think I was infatuated by his charm and devilish good looks, but it seemed more and more that I couldn’t deny the feeling. At least the only place I’d ever see him anymore was in my dreams. I couldn’t break my promise to Vic.

As I laid back down and stared up into the darkness of the ceiling, I let my hand linger up to my neck where his hand had been in my dream.

I bolted upright again when I felt a necklace that wasn’t there before.

My fingers swiftly felt around for a pendant or any sort of indication of what the piece of jewelry contained, and when I found it, I lost my breath altogether. Remaining deathly still, I held it.

It was the locket I’d hidden in my little cedar chest for years.

#nos4a2 #charlie manx #zachary quinto #charlie manx x reader #charlie manx fanfiction #nos4a2 fanfiction #fanfic #vic mcqueen #reader insert

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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 7 years

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Boys Boys Boys: A Solangelo Fanfiction

I’ve been severely lacking in inspiration because of how busy I have been. So I went back to basics: some personal experiences I’ve had at bars in NYC and around where I go to school, and a College AU set up. Could I be inspired to continue this? Heck yeah I probably could.

I hope you all enjoy!

Trigger Warning: homophobic slurs

Also read on AO3

Preview:

Will immediately half-swerved, focusing desperately on keeping his gaze forward at the line of liquors mounted on the wall, and not ogling at the dude next to him because damn he was fine—the kind of fine that would have him sobbing on the carpet of Lou Ellen’s dorm at four-in-the-morning while stuffing his face with veggie pizza and watching Ru Paul’s Drag Race later. But for now, it definitely wouldn’t help him to freak out the dude by staring. Besides, everyone knew that hot guys in leather jackets who wore Iron Maiden tee-shirts were generally as straight as boards. No use getting his hopes up.

It had started out for Will as a relatively tame night out with his two best friends Lou Ellen and Cecil. Will barely ever had time to actually hit up bars, drink, or do things that could be considered vaguely social. But Lou Ellen had burst into his dorm room with a half-empty box of wine, sporting a new undercut with a lightning bolt design and hair dyed silver, and an idea about how she wanted to spend the rest of her weekend, and Will found it extremely difficult to argue with her.

That was the way it generally went. Will Solace tended be a workaholic. If he wasn’t at class or the lab, he was studying, doing homework, taking care of the plants he crowded around his window, helping out the Bio Society, or doing the million other things he occupied his time with. He was always thankful for his best friends though, they seemed to always somehow know when it was time for him to take a break. Whether it was Cecil showing up with chicken wings at four in the afternoon, or waking up to find Lou Ellen casting spells in the kitchen, both of them had a knack for knowing when it was time to have fun.

So there he was at a bar that was trying to be something between classy and sporty, with dark wood bar, spindly stools and tables, but playing WWE on a projector towards one certain side of the room while some pop song played. But the generally pleasant vibe was being ruined by the painfully drunk dudes who kept bugging the bar tender for more shots that they obviously didn’t have the stripper-ones to pay with and their girls who kept wandering in looking to use the bathroom without getting any drinks despite the bouncer’s warnings. Cecil, Lou Ellen, and Will had occupied one of the tables and had split a bottle of whiskey between them and had been talking while the shenanigans continued to unfold behind them, talking loud enough to be heard over the subtle roar of people and music and TV.

“I’m telling you dude, I just can’t get a date to this formal coming up,” Cecil groaned as he took a sip of the beer he was using as a chaser. “This is literally the third girl who’s turned me down.”

“Well it would help if you asked out girls you didn’t just see in the SU without any context,” Lou Ellen scoffed as she knocked back another shot.

“Listen, she was my soulmate. She had the cutest fucking dimple you’d ever seen in your whole life and her hair was doing that thing where it was artfully falling down—artfully, I swear to God,” Cecil half-sobbed before he pounded the table. “Why are girls so cute, man? Where do they get off on doing that?”

“I think you are preaching to the wrong choir here with your gay best friend and an ace from outerspace,” Will told him with a pat on Cecil’s shoulder. His face was feeling pleasantly flushed, and he rolled his shoulders back. Will felt good, extraordinarily good. It was just so nice to talk with his friends and not worry about the ten million assignments he had lined up in the future.

“Oh come on, we’re on the same team really. You think girls are cute, but you just don’t want to date them or do any hanky-panky, and Dr. Frank N. Furter is our religion,” Lou Ellen pointed out.

“Wow, thank you Captain Obvious,” Will said as he stifled his laughter, which didn’t end up working. Instead, all three of them broke out into a chorus of giggles as Will poured himself another shot and held it up. Lou Ellen and Cecil mirrored his actions. “To Cecil’s search for a girl, and to my continued support. If one should ask me, I’ll scoot them his way.”

“Against their own self-interest!” Lou Ellen snickered.

“You guys suck and I love you,” Cecil said with a wide smile.

“Next time don’t wear a Cubs jersey and fluorescent orange socks when you are out to woo a lady!”

“Don’t go dissing the socks!”

They all laughed and clinked glasses and downed their shots, the alcohol burned pleasantly and smoothly on the way down. Will reached over for his glass of water and found it empty except for half-melted ice-cubes.

“I’m going to go grab some water,” Will announced to them, before getting up. He used extreme caution as he navigated the tables and chairs and drunk people considering he was also slightly tipsy. He ordered his water from the bartender and waited patiently as he leaned against the counter.

The first thing that caught his attention about the guy sitting next to him on a stool was the flash of silver—a skull ring he kept twisting around his long fingers. Long dark curls that were mostly held back by a pony tail, amazing facial structure that made him look like a piece of art, from the bottom of his (chained) combat boots and skinny jeans to the vintage leather jacket on his shoulders.

Will had just managed to get his water from an apologetic bartender, when suddenly he was knocked into by one of the very drunk dudes with only ones in his pocket. He barely kept the liquid from falling into hot-guy-in-the-jacket’s lap.

“Uh, excuse you?” Will asked the lump of muscle that had plowed into him. The guy blinked at Will blurrily for a second, acknowledging for the first time the person who wasn’t the girl half glued to his arm, and he snarled at him.

“What? Why you looking at my girl?” the drunk guy slurred, and Will held up his hands.

“Trust me, I’m very much not interested in girls—uh, your girl, and girls in general yes but—“ Will blurted out over his booze numbed tongue.

“Excuse me, you fucking faggot?” Drunk-and-Ugly growled, puffing up like an angry rooster.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

The words came out of nowhere and half stole the breath from Will’s lungs. Suddenly the hot guy next to him had gotten off the stool. He wasn’t physically big or imposing, he was a head shorter than Will himself and was built slender and wiry, but something about the way he stood tense and ready broadcasted: WRONG PERSON TO FUCK WITH.

“Butt out!” Drunk-and-Ugly warned, and Will noticed the other people at the bar moving away but found himself rooted to his spot.

“What did you just call him?” hot-guy demanded, his jaw working with rage.

“I called him a faggot,” Drunk-and-Ugly repeated with angry glint in his eye.

“You better apologize right now!” Hot-and-Scary growled at him, his voice a combination of deep and gravely that would have been amazingly sexy if not slightly terrifying and if Will hadn’t been a little drunk and horrified he might have been able to sift out what was what.

“Why? You some kind of faggot lover?!”

Drunk-and-Ugly took the first swing, but Hot-and-Scary answered by punching the dude right in the face so hard that the dude dropped like a sack of potatoes, and the next second he was on asshole and kicking the crap out of him.

“How does it feel to get your ass kicked by a faggot you piece of shit!” Hot-and-Scary yelled as he continued to unleash righteous vengeance on the dude, with Drunk-and-Ugly managing to get in a few punches of his own, until Will reached to grab Hot-and-Scary under his arms and pull him away by force as Hot-and-Scary thrashed in his arms. “Let go of me! Let me at him, I’m going to rearrange his face!”

“Woah Nico, calm down!”

A much larger Asian guy helped Will haul Hot-and-Scary, whose name was apparently Nico, away from the unfolding action, as the bouncers tried to deal with the group of very angry drunk friends who kept being egged on by the fact Nico kept yelling things along the line of “Fight me bitch” at them. The chaos was controlled by the time the cops rolled in, and by that point a bunch of very disappointed drunk college students were in the process of stumbling home.

Will was interviewed, and told his story to a relatively understanding cop. Eventually Will ended up meeting Nico on the curb after the cops had let him out of the car. Will handed Nico a cup of ice for the black eye he was now sporting (and somehow made look so good), and Nico pressed it against his face.

“Thanks…sorry. I kind of really lost it in there,” Nico said and Will gave him a smile as he sat down on the curb beside him and held out a napkin. “What’s that for?”

“I’m Will Solace, senior bio-major. Your nose is bleeding,” Will informed him. In the lamp light and blue and red flashes, Will definitely caught Nico’s ears redden.

“Nico di Angelo. Classics and Italian double major,” Nico answered as he took the number hesitantly as he sniffed and wiped at his nose which was dripping blood. “Ah, shit. You’re right. I think I broke my fucking nose.”

“Let me see,” Will said, touching Nico’s face. His expression flickered before settling into a guarded façade, as Will inspected his nose, gently probing the side. “You seem to be okay. It was probably just the trauma.”

“I would have been pissed if he had managed it. Bastard had a wimpy punch anyways,” Nico reported, as if this definitely wasn’t Nico di Angelo’s first rodeo. Will directed Nico on the proper way to pinch his nose to stem to bleeding, and held the cup of ice for him as they sat together. Will noticed a pretty African-American girl and the Asian boy speaking the police, as well as Lou Ellen and Cecil. “It was supposed to be my sister’s night—Hazel, she’s over there. She just totally killed her interview and got her internship. But I just can’t seem to human properly.”

“Well you protected my honor, and you were a total badass. If you were going to get thrown in jail, they probably would have handcuffed you, so I think you’re good and she’ll forgive you.”

“You were pretty cool to. I mean, I lost it, but you pulled me off. Thanks for that.”

“I don’t think we’re even though,” Will told him, as he placed the cup on the ground. He called over a lady who handed him a pen from her purse. “Here, give me your hand.”

Nico held it out, obviously confused. Will quickly scrawled his number on Nico’s palm and then released his grip. Nico stared at the number dumbly for a moment, before comprehension flickered over his features and he blushed. For a guy who had kicked the shit out of another human being about a foot bigger than him, Will was finding him increasingly adorable.

“Will, you’re a free man! Our Uber is here!” Cecil called out to him as Will stood up and brushed off the street-grime from his jeans.

“Call me,” Will told Nico di Angelo with a sunny smile. “I’ll take you out, if you are interested, and I really hope you are.”

“Uh—yeah, that sounds—yeah,” Nico stuttered, offering an almost shy wave as Will walked away and loaded up in a Honda Accord with Lou Ellen and Cecil.

“Please tell me you got his number,” Lou Ellen told him as she shook his arm. Will watched Nico’s sister give Nico a hug as the car pulled away, and he smiled.

“I don’t think I’ll be free next weekend to be your date to the formal Cecil,” Will reported.

“Damn way to leave me hanging, Solace.”

#Solangelo #Will Solace #Nico di Angelo #pjo fanfiction #solangelo fanfiction

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