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ilkkawhat · 3 years

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"How long have you had this planned?" "Since the moment I fell in love with you."

(For MacDalton)

[two things: one, this is like the first time I've written them in over three months so I apologize if I'm a bit rusty and two: I just straight up invented a new music venue for the sake of plot. I hope you enjoy Nade!!!]

If there’s one thing Jack’s learned in all of his years of knowing Angus Macgyver, it’s that for certain anniversaries; be it birthdays, deathdays, randomly constituted holidays mostly created on Jack’s behalf such as Bruce Willis’ birthday or the day Die Hard premiered in theaters, it’s that Mac is very...picky when it comes to his sentiments.

He loves a good party, sure, but doesn’t necessarily enjoy birthdays—at least his own, because he still always puts forth effort for others’ to ensure they have a good time.

He believes in Santa Claus, with what he thinks is irrefutable scientific proof, but doesn't believe in the other innocent childish entities such as the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny, agreeing with Jack that the Tooth Fairy is nothing more than a unwanted home invader in the form of a lying parent and the Easter Bunny is just downright made to terrify children with mall photos.

Hell, he at times even downplays the importance of Cairo Day, willing to work instead of lazing around the deck with a six pack and bags of takeout delivered by Jack himself—and while there really was an emergency this time around that left both of them bruised and battered and shaken with the sight of a gutshot Bozer, it ended up being the perfectly bided time for something he’s had planned for, well...for a long while, now.

That, and he’ll be able to kill two birds with one stone, embarking on a road trip to find a long lost father that he already knew Jack would join him on before he even said a single word, and in turn take Jack on a trip he never quite expected to have. One without any hiccups, not even an improvisation. Perfectly planned and tailored to the man he both owes his life to, and wants to devote his life to.

He asks Jack to take a pit stop on their cross-country road trip—immediately dispelling Jack’s insistence of hitting up the casinos in Vegas with teasing argument that he’d lose all of their money for food and gas no matter how many times Jack explains that he knows the “system,” but once their banter fades back into the comfortable silence, he directs Jack past the state of Nevada and into the southerner’s own home state—the Lonestar state.

“Texas? You really think Daddy Mac might be hiding in a hole in Texas?”

Mac shrugs coyly and Jack grins.

“Don’t matter anyhow, been wantin’ to take you back down here anyway. Mama’s missed having a scrawny kid to cook for,” Jack teases with a wink.

“Well good, cause we gotta swing by your casa and pick somethin’ up real quick,” Mac puts on a faithful imitation of the Texan’s accent, and Jack beams.

“Going native, huh, hoss? What do we gotta pick up?”

“Your guitar.”

“My guitar?” Jack’s eyes narrow behind the large yellow lens of his aviators and gives up trying to ask why because Mac keeps his lips sealed.

They just keep driving instead, down a long country road with the appropriate tunes to accompany this feeling; Mac’s hair flowing in the wind, Jack casually driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on Mac’s knee, a wide grin on both of their faces as they watch the sun set and the beautiful unseen stars in the sky rise out to greet them.

And a robot in the backseat, but he’s smart enough to know when to stay quiet and just enjoy the moment.

They make it to Jack’s home, an intended short visit turns into almost an entire day and while Mac is never the one to make excuses to leave, he tries to come up with as many as he can to make it to their destination on time.

Fortunately, he also got Mama Dalton and Jack’s sister in on it too, which does make it just a little easier and Mac promises that they’ll come back on the way home after nearly having to drag Jack out of the beloved ranch home.

He won’t be so grumpy once he sees what I got planned, Mac has to remind himself, because his light layer of deception does hurt him as much as it hurts Jack.

Another reason he wasn’t a fan of the “surprise” element of having a birthday. There’s an almost malicious level of teasing to making sure the birthday boy or girl doesn’t suspect a thing.

But he knows Jack, and knows he has to be suspecting something, evident by his sudden bitterness in their usually laid back banter.

“You’re just getting tired of driving is all,” Mac tries to reason with him.

“Me? I ain’t tired. You’re the one who’s tired, want me to tuck you in the back?” Jack sneers.

“How am I supposed to give you directions then?”

“I got Spanky back there—”

“Sparky.”

“Whatever. And where is it that we’re going anyway, Mac?”

“Up there,” Mac smiles when he sees the building in the distance, the GPS on his phone indicating they’re only mere minutes away.

“Wuh—No. No!” Jack gapes and Mac burst out in glee. “What are we doing at the Armadillo II?”

The Armadillo II, being a freshly renovated bar and music hall was built as an homage to the Amradillo World Headquarters, which Jack often talked about having gone to as a young kid, wishing it had lasted longer before being turned into an office building—something he often compared to the transition of childhood to adulthood itself.

“Beer and music, what else would you do?”

“Yeah, but I mean, how does this relate to…”

“It doesn’t. It’s just for you. For us,” Mac grips Jack’s hand and gently kisses him on the cheek. “Making up for Cairo Day.”

“Aw, gee, Mac,” Jack’s eyes are glistening, his teeth shining under the bright moonlight in the brightest smile. “You shouldn’t have!”

They’re greeted by a bouncer who holds up a hand to Jack’s chest as he was ready to strut his way in.

“Tickets,” the bouncer grunts.

“Ah, damn, don’t have ‘em on me, but I know the owner—” Jack starts to ramble, ready to sneak their way in but surprisingly, Mac has two ticket stubs.

“Where’d you get those?”

“From my pocket,” Mac says simply and pushes Jack into the building.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the concert will begin in fifteen minutes, please fill you drinks and take your seats!”

“Concert, what concert?” Jack shouts as he takes in the room, taking the chair closest to the door at the table that Mac directs them to.

“See that banner?” Mac nods up to the stage.

Willie Nelson.

Jack knew of course, that Willie Nelson would occasionally come out for a concert or two, usually to fundraise for his acts of activism—and even if he couldn’t attend he’d always try to send some money for the cause, but never, and he really means never in his right mind did he ever think this would happen.

“I love you, Mac,” Jack breathes, and the concert begins.

A few songs in, Willie slows down to a gentle strum on his guitar, and the lights dim to match an intimate, romantic atmosphere.

“Now, this next song is called ‘A Song for You,’ although, it is my honor to make a slight alteration to the title for one of our country’s greatest unsung heroes. A guy with a name that sounds like it’d be on the menu at Carl’s Junior came up to me on the street the other day—”

The crowd laughs at the name joke, and so does Mac but Jack’s jaw is hung open, no sound coming out which makes Mac laugh even harder because he knows it’s all coming together.

“He told me his story, their story and well, now it’s my turn to tell y’all that story too. This here is a song for you, Jack Dalton.”

“No. Fucking. Way!” Jack breathlessly gasps, his fingers shaking, his eyes watery and red. Mac puts his hand on Jack’s knee, and Jack sandwiches it with his own. It’s not until the song is over that he’s able to speak again, wiping the tears from his eyes as the crowd applauds.

“When the hell didja manage to talk to Willie Nelson?”

“On my way back from Siberia. Made a pit stop.”

“And now, it’s my greatest pleasure to welcome onto the stage, the man himself—”

“Mac…” Jack starts slapping, clawing at Mac is if to bring him back to life because this sure as hell feels like he’s died and gone to heaven—though he knows, and Mac knows, that will never happen.

Jack Dalton will never die.

And even if he did, he’d never go into that light without Mac by his side, and because of that, because they’re alive, they both feel unstoppable, almost youthfully immortal in that sense—if they were going to die, they would have kicked the bucket by now, surely.

“Come on up here, Jack!” Willie calls and Jack just cannot believe it, especially not when that same bouncer comes up behind him holding his own guitar that he had stashed away in the back of his GTO.

“How long have you been planning this?” Jack asks wildly as he rises from his seat.

“Since the moment I fell in love with you,” Mac replies, and rises with him, sending him to the stage after a good luck kiss. “Which was basically when you played Willie Nelson every day in the Sandbox.”

#nade2308 #macdalton #macgyver fic #angus macgyver #jack dalton #mk.fic #i even went and rewatched some bits to make sure i got their voices right #i miss jack so much #mk.op #i also never thought i'd write mac fic again so this was a pleasant surprise for me too

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rain0205-blog · 5 years

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Terminal State

Summary: She tried leaving, submerging herself in work to escape the horrors she had seen. The horrors she kept seeing. She never wanted to go back to that life. But when the Empire takes her home, she’s forced to face her past. Can she move on? Can she cope? Or will she require a bit of help? still bad at summaries, still working on it. ever so slightly more than slight AU gadioxoc

Unwanted Guest

...

Gladiolus was not going to sleep tonight, he and his companions were bunking in a camper with a strange man only known as Ardyn. The first time they had encountered the stranger he was in Gadlin Quay, informing them of the lack of ferries to Altissia and giving them a strange coin. Later on in Lestallum, after they had come back from the cave behind the waterfall, this man seemed to be there waiting for them. Noctis was having headaches as of late, strange ones that didn't affect anyone else, however, he was seeing the astral known as Titan and since they couldn't physically go and have a look, they went toward the outlook which is where Ardyn was waiting for them. Conveniently, he was willing to take them to the Archeon as what seemed to be a good gesture.

They decided to go and Ardyn insisted on Noctis driving the car. It wasn't a very long drive, they had only made it as far as Coernix Station where it was decided that they would use the camper instead of a haven - due to Ardyn's insistence. Gladiolus didn't trust this man at all. The vibes he was getting were completely negative and he wore a scowl on his face more often than not since they agreed to go on this journey with him. On top of that, every time he made eye contact with Ardyn the man simply smiled in a suspicious way, like he knew something intimate and personal and wasn't going to share it The guy even looked shady, amber coloured eye that hid some sort of ulterior motive behind them. His hair was long, purplish or red, hard to see based on the different lights hitting it, and his age was difficult to pinpoint but it seemed older than his appearance. The worst of it was his smile, that wide, amused smile that occupied his face filled with deceit and what looked like a hint of jealousy. Words flowed out of his mouth in a thick, accented voice and carried with them an insult lying beneath every single one of them. His demeanour, in general, was suspicious enough and it put all of them on edge, making him an extremely unwanted guest.

After they had eaten with awkward conversation, everyone except Gladiolus had gone to bed. Instead, he was out at one of the tables reading one of Athenacia's medical texts that Ignis had borrowed. The Shield had taken to doing that a lot lately despite having brought his own books. While he didn't understand a lot of what he was reading, it only made him admire her more for being able to know all of this stuff. Being a doctor was hard work, he was aware of that, however, he never knew how much actually went into it. Since the invasion, he usually selected a book at random and starting to eat through it during drives or when he needed a distraction from his thoughts; and since he had arrived in Lestallum they seemed to be racing when he wasn't focused on Noctis. After the conversation he had with Gin in the hospital, more questions seemed to rise within him. The voice message Athenacia had left him was listened to at least twice per day, not having the heart to delete it. She knew that something was going to happen that day, but she seemed to have it in her head that he and the others were in danger as well. Specifically, she had mentioned more than once that she was relieved they were okay and to keep safe. The more he listened to it, the more it worried him. Had she known that the city would fall? How? Was she indeed a spy? Gladio didn't believe it. Cor didn't believe it then he didn't either. The Marshal is probably the one that convinced her to pack up a bag in the first place, never trusting the Niffs from day one and rightfully so, however, it still rose a bunch of questions. If she knew something, why wouldn't she tell him?

The large man sighed, leaning back in his chair and closing the book. He wasn't really focused on it anyway and he was sure it was because this one was mostly on the infectious disease and he didn't want to lose his dinner. The other one he was reading was a lot better, containing different poisonous ailments pertaining to all over Eos and the different courses of treatment. Gladio grabbed that one from the bag and actually continued from where he marked his page. Did Athenacia really know all of this? How could one person possibly memorize all of these facts and then use them in a split second while in the middle of a battlefield? She really was something else. The door to the camper opened, then closed, and immediately his body felt defensive. Ardyn behind him. Gladio's face went back to a scowl as he tried to focus on the words in front of them. Their guest sat in a chair on the opposite side of the table. The Shield didn't acknowledge him, not wanting anything to do with him despite that he could feel the amber stare burning into his soul it seemed like. That amused look still occupied his face and it made Gladio even more uneasy about everything.

"Those are quite the books. Looking for a second career?" Ardyn spoke in his thick accent and amused manner.

"They're not mine," grunted Gladiolus, not even bothering to raise his eyes.

"I had thought not. None of you appear to be this far advanced in medicine."

"They belong to a friend," Gladio looked up with suspicion.

Ardyn's eyes seemed to brighten, "Ah yes a friend. All friends are important, but ones you take an interest in can be the dearest to your heart. Tell me, did this friend make it out of your once fair city okay?"

Gladiolus just shrugged, "Doesn't matter."

"Uncertainty can be a trying thing," his expression was almost bored, "But I find that some things, or even some people, turn up in the most unusual of places."

Gladiolus just narrowed his eyes. Ardyn only offered that same smile before wordlessly standing from his seat and leaving the Shield alone again. The words running through his head caused him to frown, sounding like he was trying to toy with him. Nothing about that guy made any sense and the sooner they got to part ways with him, the better.

Shaking his head, he brought his attention back the book he was reading. What he also liked the most about this one was the bestiary listed, and that included daemons. As a combat medic, she would need to know all of these while out in the field. He flipped the page, coming to one he hadn't the pleasure of running into. Arachne. They spit out level six poisons which are only responsive to two types of antidotes. The wrong one can speed up symptoms which lead victims to expire. Gladio's frown deepened as he took in the words, looking over at the images on the page. Listed there were the antibodies that were needed to fight off the poison and what would happen if the victims were left untreated. Flipping the page again, he wondered how in the hell Athenacia was able to deal with all of this. Some of the diagrams made him feel queasy, he couldn't imagine having to be up close and personal with it.

Sighing, he leaning back in the chair and looking up at the stars. Sleep would elude him tonight and not just because he was on guard duty about Ardyn. At times like these, Gladiolus found he couldn't stop thinking about Athenacia, the girl occupying his mind completely when he wasn't busy watching Noctis. He really missed her, never realizing how much until she wasn't around. After the way he acted, he was lucky she even gave him a chance again the way she did. Her last words to him swam through his head and he again wondered how much she knew about the signing ceremony. At least she was armed, wherever she was. Somehow in the pit of his gut, he knew that they would cross paths again soon, he just hoped that when they did she was alive and well.

...

Athenacia's heart raced as she looked through the binoculars stationed at the lookout point of Lestallum. The Archeon, Titan, was awake and the Empire was on the way, but she also saw four specific people right in the way of the astral's wrath. Whatever Gladiolus and others were doing there, she hoped that they would make it out alive. The quakes from the God had stirred everyone else to the same place so that they could have a proper look. Iris was fretting right beside her, the only reason that she had come this far and stayed in the first place.

The young doctor had not really meant to come into Lestallum again at all. After using a mild sedative on herself the other night, she woke up with a splitting headache. Athenacia knew why, of course, on her way down she managed to hit her head on the door of the truck. It was stupid, she really should have planned that out better but the poison didn't help. Thankfully the sun was only just starting to rise so no one had been by to go through her stuff. The other benefit: it was dreamless, even if it was for only an hour. Clearly the dosages were measured wrong, a problem that she fixed immediately. Her ankle was still twisted so she used her magic to heal that up, and magicked her laceration where the Arachne had struck her. It left a faint scar, hopefully one that would fade away before long. Once that was finished, she gathered all of her things, ready to leave.

The physician took off from that spot, going back to her aimless wandering around Lucis, however, supplies were running low and she needed some clean clothes. Unfortunately, all of that was in the humid city, so she begrudgingly made her way back in her truck. While filling it with gas, Iris had caught sight of her and insisted that the woman meet her brother. Athenacia was not interested in that whatsoever, but didn't say something about it. There would be plenty of opportunities to slip out before Gladiolus returned to the city for any reason, despite how much she actually did want to see him. The flaw in that was, Iris wasn't going to let the young doctor out of her reach, especially after Talcott was also informed of "Tia's" return. It wasn't entirely unpleasant to have them along while she did her shopping, in fact, a woman's opinion on new clothing was a welcoming approach. Athenacia was able to get a few decent items without exhausting her savings, wishing to delay the notion of hunting that would expose her to more people. Then an earthquake shook the very ground beneath them. Someone had screamed about the Archeon and they all found themselves in the outlook area to see what was going on.

Iris was the first to look and she spotted her brother instantly. That was when Athenacia's breath caught in her throat. Once the young Amicitia had let the doctor take a look, she couldn't take her hazel gaze away. The doctor watched Gladiolus and Noctis run away from the God while also trying to fight him off. It was nerve-wracking, especially when the Empire had shown up with their dreadnaughts. Now they all waged battle against a God. What were they thinking? Seriously, a God? She just couldn't bear to watch it anymore and as she took her eyes away, someone else had pushed in between the two women in order to get a better look. Athenacia went to stand on the other side of Iris who was just a wreck. Talcott had taken the doctor's hand tightly as he looked on with the wonder of a young boy and the worry of a child. The three of them watched but all they could see was an army of airships and clouds of dust coming up from where the astral would swing his giant arm. Each strike made the doctor more nervous than the last, something that Iris was also having trouble coping with.

"What are they doing there anyway?" asked Athenacia.

"Noct needs Titan's blessing," answered Iris.

"Excuse me?" she frowned.

"I don't know much about it, just that he needs the blessings of the Gods."

Titan's blessing? Whatever for? Is this what the Oracle meant when she said she had to aid the King? Is the truth of the stories Cor used to tell her as a young girl before bed coming to pass? But it couldn't be real. None of this was making any sense. Athenacia was so cut off from everything the last few days that she had no idea about what was going on around her despite being in the outside world. It was a good thing she decided to come back to the city today or else she was sure she'd be caught up in action at the Disc. That was the sort of attention she didn't need.

Her eyes snapped into focus as a blinding golden light surrounded the Archeon. Talcott squeezed her hand tighter while Iris shoved her head into the older woman's shoulder, all of them shielding their eyes from it. And then he was simply gone. The physician's breath caught in her throat once more as her eyes widened. The explosion took out the nearby dreadnaughts - which caused Iris to wail and latch onto the doctor with tears in her eyes. Athenacia put a comforting arm around the girl while she continued to watch the scene before her. If only she could see down here, to know what happened to Gladiolus and the others. Fear gripped her heart as she pictured them dead, bodies strewn among the ground lifeless, the sort of things that cropped up in her nightmares. A breath escaped her when she saw a single dreadnaught make its way out of the Disc. There was no help for it, she would have to remain in Lestallum until she heard some more news of what went on down there. Assuming they had made it out alive - and she sincerely hoped that they did - she was going to wait around until they contacted Iris. Hell, she was going to sit around in the shadows until they came back for her, because Athenacia had to see for herself with her own eyes that everyone was okay.

...

The next morning Athenacia slipped out of the bed in the hotel room of Lestallum quietly. Ordinarily, she would have stayed in her truck for the night, however, the distraught young Talcott had clung to her in the hopes that she would stay. Jared had chided him but Athenacia assured the man that everything was okay. The truth of the matter was, the boy provided her with some comfort as well and she didn't want to leave him just yet. Iris had managed to sleep only after her brother had told her that they were all safe and would talk when he got back. Athenacia had no idea when that was going to be but she definitely wasn't going to be sleeping in the same room as his sister. Despite the fact that she looked different, Gladio would recognize her instantly, of that she was certain. Besides, she just wanted to observe from a distance and get back to... well whatever it was that she was doing.

Sighing lightly, she pulled the covers back over Talcott to rest under his chin. Keeping a light smile on her face, she looked over at Iris who was also snuggled into her bed. The doctor then padded quietly across the carpeted floor toward the bathroom and shut the door behind her with a soft click. Taking a look at herself in the mirror, she was shocked at her own appearance. The dye was starting to grow out a bit but that wasn't really an issue she had. There was dirt all over her face and it dawned on her that it had been a long time since she had a proper shower and probably stunk something fierce. Her hazel eyes were still puffy and bloodshot with those same dark circles, however, she seemed to look a little better than usual. Hair was matted and greasy from not having been washed in a few days, a scrape on her cheek from her hunting and she could see the scar on her arm from fighting the Arachne with a few contusions here and there. Nothing serious at least.

Tearing her gaze away, she grabbed the tie from the end of her braid and pulled it out, placing it on the counter before beginning to unlace the braid with deft fingers. It was a bit of a struggle, all tangled and knotted together. Once it was finished, she fanned it out across her back, her eyes catching that ugly scar on the right side of her neck. Athenacia took her finger and traced over it, most of it dirty from her poor treatment of herself. The blemished skin only made her feel more disgusted and she pulled her wavy hair over her shoulder, hiding it again. Turning her back on her reflection, turned the water on in the tub and got the shower going. Steam started to billow out and she began to peel off her extremely dirty clothes, leaving them on the ground before stepping in. Athenacia sighed in relief as the scorching hot water turned her skin red instantly, basking a moment, closing her eyes and releasing a content sigh as the water fell off of her. That familiar tranquillity took over and she was reluctant to leave it. When she opened them again, she could see the dirt coming off of her so she grabbed a cloth to begin scrubbing. Her skin was raw by the time she was finished, her pressure increasing as images from the devastation of Insomnia and her own monstrosity of power came into her mind. Tears escaped the bottom of her eyes, the blood not coming off, just like when she was in the war. The cloth was thrown away in disgust, dirty from her and the clear water suggesting that she was clean. Athenacia knew better, she would never be clean with all those lives on her hands.

The doctor wiped the steam from the mirror when she was finished, wrapping a towel around her slender frame and stared back at the ugly scar that now gleamed in the lighting above her. This thing would always remind her of the failure she was, all the screams that filled her ears whenever she closed her eyes. Clenching her jaw, she grabbed another towel and began to dry her hair with it. When she was finished fussing with it, she then began the methodical twisting of her hair, leaving it in that braid that perfectly hid that ugly scar, the identifier that put everyone in danger while she remained. The towel was tossed aside before she rummaged through one of the shopping bags from yesterday, pulled on her clothes and having another look at herself. Her damp hair was hiding her left eye while the braid came down her right shoulder against her neck and stopped just short of her last rib. To help hide her blemish, she wore a sleeveless shirt that didn't come against her neck but didn't hang too low from her collarbone either and was a darker pink. Her light jeans with a tear in the upper right thigh and lower left knee were a little loose on her hips but her belt helped with that. Sighing again, her fingers ran along where her necklace would be. Eventually she would get it back, for now, it was where it belonged. At least she hoped it was.

Athenacia carefully opened the door, picking up her dirty clothes and placing them with her bag. The younger two were still sleeping soundly and she didn't want to wake them up. Pulling on her boots, she debated on strapping her weapon to her back or not. Chewing her lip in thought, she decided against it, knowing it would make her stand out walking around the city with a weapon. The goal was to blend in, not attract unwanted attention. Down the stairs of the hotel and out the door, the unmistakable smell of breakfast foods starting to cook, invading her nostrils and reminding her of the last time she ate. Her stomach began to reprimand her for the poor excuse of sustenance she had been feeding it, placing her hands there and walking to the smell that stood out to her nose the most. The physician paid for her food while making minimal eye contact with the vendor and began to eat quickly. Shoving a rather large last bite in her mouth, she began walking the streets, doing her best to blend into the crowds. It was almost nice to try and feel normal again and be around other people.

Memories washed over her as she gathered food for the upcoming trip in the market. The first time she had ever come here was with Cor and she didn't have time to really enjoy it. With the Glaive, she wasn't able to do much exploring but thankfully the foods she liked to eat the most were right near the hotel. It wasn't the same as Insomnia, nothing was ever going to be like that for a long while, however, she was still happy with what this place had to offer. It was too bad that she couldn't just stay here and live with the rest of the refugees. If only she knew why that strange man was chasing her down. Surely he could have just killed her and got it over with, instead he was playing games with her, leaving her with one eye over her shoulder and in constant fear of being. Sighing, she held her bags tightly and began to walk away from the crowds of people. Cor taught her better than this, to not let the enemy inside her head or else she had already lost the battle.

Athenacia was again caught up in her thoughts - only this time they were on Gladiolus. The images of him, the Prince and all the chaos that surrounded them while basically at the astral's feet played over in her head. Gladio... she wanted to see him so badly, missed him more than she realized. It was easier before she had actually seen him for herself, even if it was through a lens. The dangers surrounding him was much more serious than previously thought and if there was something she could do to help, she wanted to. There had to be a way for her to get a message to him, a way to meet up without bringing the enemy to them with the target on her back. For now, the safest place for her was away from all of them.

The doctor grunted as someone had bumped into her, knocking her off balance a little and pulling her from her thoughts. Instantly she looked back at the man with a frown on her face and her eyes met his. He was taller than her, with piercing green eyes and messy untamed black hair on top of his head. There was a scar on his chin that was obscured by his short beard, but his eyes were studying her a moment and she felt scared that this man knew her despite never seeing him before in her life. Shaking his head, he turned around and kept walking, not bothering to talk to her or look back again. Athenacia breathed a sigh of relief and then continued her journey, looking back one last time to make sure no unfriendly eyes were upon her.

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webcricket · 7 years

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A Room to Call Home

Characters: CastielXAngel!Reader ft. Sam and Dean Winchester

Word Count: 4013

A/N: One-shot request by anonymous – “I was wondering if you could do Cas meeting one of his oldest friends (an angel) and introducing them to the boys. Fluffy maybe??” An old friend seeks out Castiel on an errand to summon him home. Gender neutral reader. Humor and fluff with a suggestion of plot and a side of bacon (because everything is better with bacon).

Castiel roughly engaged the hand brake of the rickety borrowed brown truck as it lurched to a grinding halt. The metallic ting of the radiator reminded the angel he wanted to ask Dean to investigate that noise, along with the irksome vibration and strange burning smell recently emanating from the clutch. He distractedly traced the calloused pads of his fingertips along the worn curve of the steering wheel – although a slow and inefficient method of travel, he had come to enjoy the uninterrupted stretches of meditative solitude and passing minutia of detail driving afforded.

He might otherwise have winged right past the roadside attraction that purported to be the World’s Largest Ball of Twine without having paused for a few contemplative hours to unravel its significance. Likewise, the alleged birthplace of the Which came first, the chicken or the egg? controversy, along with the quaint one-room museum dedicated to the conundrum that boastingly housed the actual chair where the originator perched while hatching this riddle for the ages, would have gone entirely unnoticed by him. The answer, he determined, and sincerely attempted to explain to the wide-eyed gum-chewing teenaged museum curator, was that neither the chicken or the egg came first. After all, he reasoned, in the beginning, the very first of firsts, there was only light. Then eventually there was the slimy scaly flopping fish-like things that crawled from the oceans and after hundreds of thousands of years of evolution developed feathers. Chickens and eggs, as humanity knows them, and in no particular order, were no more than an afterthought. Mostly he wondered if the original owner of the ramshackle truck still missed it and wanted it back, albeit a little worse for the wear.

“Why have we stopped?” you interrupted his quiet reflection from your position in the passenger seat, squinting through the windshield at the ugly and dilapidated industrial building looming beyond the hazy glass.

Glancing sidelong at you, he inclined his unshaven chin out the cracked window toward the unremarkable iron door, pitted cement stairs, and decrepit railing marking the entrance to the Men of Letters bunker, answering simply, “We’ve arrived.”

When Castiel embarked on the short jaunt to the Gas-N-Sip earlier in the evening to pick up a few supplies for the bunker, you were the last entity in creation he expected to run into, or rather, nearly run over, in the parking lot. Fortunately, the brakes on the truck were the only part of the clunker not actively disintegrating – not that hitting an angel with a sluggishly lumbering vehicle will do much more than cause, at worst, temporary inconvenience to said angel.

Although it was your first time occupying a human vessel, having spent the dreadful fall instigated by Metatron circling in search of and never finding a suitable one, you were well aware it was considered ill-advised to loiter in the middle of a poorly lit parking lot after dusk. Unfortunately, this was also the precise location your vessel, chosen especially for proximity to the angel you sought, said yes.

In days long past, you and the seraph were fledglings who stretched your wings and tested the limits of your divine grace together in Joshua’s garden. Upon your creation, both of you were bursting with an innate inquisitiveness atypical of angels – a trait that set you squarely apart from your kin and brought you that much closer in mutual fondness. You disobediently ventured time and again into the endless corridors of Heaven, spending unmarked intervals exploring and marveling at the myriad of eternities tailored to the fortunate human souls dwelling behind closed doors. Each door contained a room of their very own for the soul to call home – a place to hold the assorted odds and ends of a life with every object, moment, and memory that was meaningful to them preserved. And sometimes souls kept one another in perpetuity. It was these doors behind which two souls stowed the sum of their existence together in everlasting contentment that captivated you most of all. If angels were capable of envy, you would have suffered the sin.

When your assignments separated you – Castiel dispatched to Anna’s garrison to join rank, his boldness tethered to the duties of a soldier, and you relegated to Heaven’s bureaucracy, curiosity neatly contained in a stuffy four-by-four-foot cubicle – you drew from his angelic lips a parting oath, bound by an unheard of mingling of grace, that one day you would be together again. Angels didn’t love one another, not like humans, but the bond of fidelity you and he forged in Heaven was comparable.

Watching you shield your eyes from the flickering headlights of the truck in the convenience store parking lot and wave in recognition, Castiel presumed you could have appeared in his life now for only one reason – that one day, foretold by your pact to each other, had fatefully arrived. Motioning for you to climb into the truck, fearing for your safety in thinking you had rebelled and others would come searching for you, he spun the rubber of the already bald tires and drove straight back to the bunker.

He had no idea where to begin a conversation with the unfathomable distance of time separating your lives, and so he didn’t. Like a human defaulting to commenting about the weather to fill the silence, he elected, instead, to relay a nervous narrative of the passing scenery. The brief journey, inconsequentially protracted owing to hitting two red lights, was replete with a prattling non-stop, occasionally nonsensical, accounting of every lost dog, wandering child, kissing couple, feeble retiree, and blowing leaf he’d ever seen or helped cross the deserted streets in that part of town, and it bought him just over 17 minutes of delaying the inevitable discussion about what brought you to Kansas.

“This is where you live?” you asked, dismayed as you scanned the derelict entrance. “So many beautiful places exist in our father’s creation, and you choose to reside in ruination?” The Castiel you remembered favored verdant grasses and wide-open expanses of blue sky. It seemed to you, seeing first-hand how far he’d fallen, that your mission to bring him home to Heaven was, perhaps, as necessary as your superiors intimated it to be.

“It’s a fully equipped bunker, and you’ll find it’s quite homey inside,” he uttered confidently.

“Home?!” you scoffed. They said he’d become vehemently attached to this place, but to refer to it as home was too much.

His proud countenance fell at perceiving your disapproval.

An unfamiliar rush of emotion, bleed through courtesy of the human soul you presently shared your vessel with, seized hold of your frame upon seeing the wounding impact of your tone on his demeanor. You were not here to make him feel badly about his choices, merely to ask that he strongly reconsider them. Unfolding the foreign feeling hands resting upon your lap, this same unknown impulse compelled you to reach out to lightly stroke his knee. The edge in your voice dulled, “Castiel, our home is in Heaven.”

“I’m not wanted there, nor do I belong anymore,” he stated pointedly, beginning to doubt your actual motive for visiting. Eyes lowering, he noticed your hesitant hand and fondly clasped the broad warmth of his palm around your fingers. He dismissed the suspicious inkling, hoping he was wrong. “Regardless of that, I’m very glad to see you.”

Angelic grace funneled into the bounds of a diminutive human vessel – a situation akin to the power of a blizzard contained within a solitary snowflake – this tender contact proved intensely overwhelming for you. You recoiled with an astonished gasp to gape at your explosively heated fingers.

Your reaction prompted a fleeting amused half-smile to tug at his mouth at the recollection of when all this was new to him too – the slightest touch of skin that was then a dizzying assault upon the senses now an agreeable way to communicate those affectionate sentiments which cannot fully be articulated with words. Castiel greatly looked forward to sharing with you all that he had learned about and from humanity. He believed you alone amongst all angels would appreciate and love humanity as much as he did; as you alone had understood him long ago in Heaven.

“I’m glad to see you too,” a genuine smile ghosted your lips, and faltered as you reiterated the canned lines you’d been directed to say to him in order to sway his mind on the matter, “as many in Heaven will be who will welcome your return with open arms. Others will follow by example. You are not so shunned by your family as you lead yourself to believe.” The statement was truthful. With Joshua gone, and Heaven spiraling once more into chaos, the angels desperately needed a leader – a loyal figurehead with history, however rebellious, to guide them. You had come willingly, eager to see your old confidant, though also under orders – your betters taking advantage of your unusually intimate friendship with Castiel which they did not possess the capacity to comprehend – to seek him out and solicit his aid.

Your words, which Castiel easily discerned were not really yours, confirmed his suspicions as to the aim of your unexpected visit. “That’s kind of you to say,” he frowned, a grim furrow dividing his brow. He resented the fact that they sent you – you, whose bond meant so much to him and whom he could not deny. Weary of assuming the burden of Heaven’s problems, he added tersely, “But my home is here now.” He shouldered open the groaning truck door.

“With humanity? They can’t even begin to comprehend your true purpose,” you argued after him across the seat.

“It is living among them where I have discovered my true purpose,” he countered irritably, slamming the door shut. He was not angry with you. He wondered what punishment they had threatened you with to coerce your cooperation.

You huffed, heaving open the sticky passenger side door and jumping out to scramble in the wake of his billowing trench coat, retorting, “And what about your family? Here, you are isolated, cut off from Heaven.”

He halted in front of the bunker door, pivoting to confront you. “I am not alone here. The Winchesters are good men. I consider them my brothers,” his blue eyes shone with deep conviction.

You inhaled sharply, stealing your resolve to make the one appeal you knew he could not refuse, to recall to him that age-old promise he swore to you upon his angelic essence – that tiny fragment of his grace that now stirred tempestuously in your celestial heart. You believed you were doing the right thing, for Heaven, for him, “Castiel…”

“Y/N, I know why you’re here. What you’re trying to do. What they’re trying to do,” he averted his indignant gaze upward. Stormy features relaxing in a sullen droop, his regard drifted back to you. “And if you ask me to return to Heaven with you this very moment, I will not hesitate. You alone can induce me to do so,” he had not forgotten his pledge. “But before you say the words, I want you to understand what it is you’re asking me to leave.”

You would not selfishly deny his modest request. “Show me,” you nodded accord. Heaven could wait; you’d waited this long.

He swung the bunker door wide and politely signaled for you to enter ahead of him.

“Hey buddy, did they have to brew and bottle the beer before they could sell it to you, or what?” Dean raised his gruff voice in the general direction of the stairs without looking up upon hearing Cas’ resounding footsteps on the landing. He thought up what he considered to be a humorous remark that morning while noshing on perfectly crisped bacon, and even though Cas hadn’t been gone any longer than usual, Dean had been waiting all day to say those exact words. The delivery fell bitterly flat for his taste. He wished he had more of that delicious bacon.

Stretching long arms overhead and yawning, Sam peeked up from the book he had balanced between his thighs and the edge of the map table to acknowledge Cas’ entrance and saw that the angel had not returned alone. Harshly clearing his throat, he snapped the book closed and slid the hefty tome hard across the table at Dean.

“What the hell?” Dean whined, shooting his brother an annoyed scowl when the corner of the text struck him directly in the ribs. He rubbed a small circle over the area, begging sympathy for the anticipated bruise.

Sam unsympathetically and emphatically vaulted an eyebrow and rose to his feet.

Dean finally took notice of you clambering down the stairs and begrudgingly stood. He muttered out the side of his mouth at his brother, “Sammy, I told you something like this would happen if we sent him without a shopping list again.”

“You said he’d bring home a stray kitten, not a…” Sam murmured through clenched teeth.

“You do realize I can hear you?” Cas narrowed his eyes and glowered at the brothers as he approached the table.

Dean shrugged unapologetically.

“And if you recall, I found an upstanding young family to adopt that orphan puppy I brought home last week,” Cas added matter-of-factly.

“Not before it peed in my shoe,” Dean griped. “Twice.”

Sam jabbed Dean with an elbow to shut him up.

Cas gave Sam a small appreciative smile for the considerately restraining measure, “Sam, Dean, I’d like you to meet Y/N, a very old friend of mine.”

You tarried a few steps behind, preoccupied by the intriguing maze of corridors breaking off from the cement walls of the expansive room. Though dark and dingy, they brought to mind Heaven’s gleaming white halls and all the marvelous doors therein.

Cas glanced back at you, beckoning you forward, “Y/N, this is…”

“The righteous man, and the abomination,” you interposed, curtly bobbing your head at each of the men in greeting, “who else?”

“I thought we were past the whole abomination business?” Sam frowned at Cas.

“I didn’t refer to him as that,” Cas shot you a reproaching glare, expression tempering earnestly when he focused on Sam, “I didn’t refer to you as that.”

“You thought it,” you announced objectively.

Dean smirked to himself, figuring you must be an angel. Your tactless honesty was a dead giveaway.

“I consider it more of a term of endearment nowadays,” Cas offered repentantly.

“Seriously?!” Sam feigned outrage even though he was not truly offended. “And how does he get to be the righteous man after the whole demonic stint?” he leered at Dean.

“Easy, cause my answer to Y/N is an enthusiastic yes,” Dean’s grin smugly widened to crease the corners of his glittering green eyes. Teasing guileless angels was one of his favorite pastimes, and it was getting more challenging to provoke Cas the longer the angel lived with them. He was all in favor of fresh angelic fodder. And bacon.

“I didn’t ask you anything,” you pointed out, head tilting in bafflement.

“You didn’t have to,” Dean winked suggestively. “Answer’s still yes.”

Cas rolled his brilliant blue eyes toward the high ceiling – this introduction was not going at all as he had intended. You were acting with brazen impudence and Dean was, well, being Dean. “They grow on you,” he attempted to mollify the situation.

“Under certain conditions, so does fungus,” you advised calmly.

Sam stifled a snicker with his sleeve.

Dean didn’t miss a beat, sauntering forward with his arms spread wide, he lewdly noted, “They don’t make a cream for this, sweetheart, but I’d be happy to help you scratch that itch.” Speaking of itches, his stomach growled hungrily. He decided just then a bacon cheeseburger from that diner on the corner of Monroe Ave and Main would be precisely the thing to pacify it.

Eyes clouding in confusion, you commented aloud on the relentless borderline obsessive theme pervading Dean’s mind since you’d entered the bunker, “What do fried slices of pig fat have to do with anything?”

Sam bent at the waist, breaking under a rolling wave of laughter.

Cas groaned exasperatedly and closed his eyes.

“Hey,” Dean wagged a warning finger at you, “head space is strictly off limits. And bacon? Since you asked so nicely, everything.”

“I don’t understand,” you looked to the visibly frustrated Castiel for an answer.

“My friends frown upon having their thoughts perceived,” he sighed.

“But…” you still didn’t understand about the bacon.

“Alright, enough!” Sam entreated, composing himself, ever the peacemaker. “Dean, you keep it in your pants. And Y/N, please stay out of our heads. Trust me, he only gets worse the deeper you probe.”

“He’s right, and yeah, strict no probing policy,” Dean agreed, needlessly clarifying. “By angels or aliens.”

You mutely wondered what Dean kept in his pants, and if it was, perchance, a preserved pork product.

“Any friend of Cas is a friend of ours. Right Dean?” Sam stared sternly at his brother, the firm set of his jaw suggesting there was only one correct answer and that Dean had better choose it.

“Right. He’s right again,” Dean mumbled contritely.

“Good,” Sam plastered a friendly smile on his face. “Now since we started off on the wrong foot...”

You looked skeptically down at your vessel’s left foot, shifting weight to the opposite one.

Castiel couldn’t help but crack a small smile at your misperception.

“…it’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” Sam extended an open hand.

You reached out to awkwardly take it.

“Well, I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do,” Dean grabbed his folded jacket off the chair, tummy rumbling loudly, and jostled Sam by the collar. “We’ll leave you to it. Come on Sam.”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam let go of your hand, looked around urgently for his coat, patted his chest, realized he was currently wearing it, and smiled self-consciously, “Okay then. See you guys later.”

You said nothing.

Cas took this to mean you had not altered your intent to recall him to Heaven. He watched the brothers mount the stairs, gravelly voice resounding wistfully after them, “Dean. Sam. Goodbye.”

Grabbing the door latch, Dean responded lightheartedly as he yanked it open, “Sheesh Cas, we’re only going out to grab a bite to eat.” It wasn’t like he and Sam would never see the angel again. The door clanged shut behind them.

Cas’ shoulders slumped.

“You’ve changed Castiel,” you casually observed. Despite the coarse interaction, you sensed his profound love for and attachment to these men, and their equal love for him. A part of you seethed with a jealousy you were not supposed to feel. Yet you also experienced gladness for him. The rapid conflicting pulls of these emotions dazed you. You wondered how Castiel tolerated it day after day without suffering restlessness. He appeared comfortable and at ease in this strange place.

“You disapprove,” he refused to look at you, plunging aside into one of the corridors.

“No,” you ambled after him, “I meant it as a compliment. It suits you, this change. You seem…somehow more assured of yourself.” You glanced at each of the lettered or numbered doors as you strode by, rounding a corner, “Where are you going?”

“My room,” Cas halted in front of a closed door. “If I’m to leave, there’s something here I want to bring with me.” He twisted the knob and marched across the threshold into the humble space.

Frozen in the doorway, you ran your fingertips deferentially across the level wooden plane of the doorframe. His room. His. A room of his own to call home like those lucky souls in Heaven. Your eyes wandered over the tidy contents of the room – the crisp sheets and blanket neatly darted beneath the corners of the totally unnecessary bed. The smart assortment of ties draped fastidiously over a hanger on the closet door, gifts from his vessel’s daughter which he never wore but cherished nonetheless because of how important they were to her. A dried bunch of faded yellow wildflowers tacked above the desk, picked that Spring for him by a homeless woman named Elise he had gotten into the habit of treating to lunch when he and the Winchesters were not out of town on case. She knew the names and histories of every bird and flower in creation and the angel never tired of hearing her relate their stories. Hung beside the flowers, a brightly colored crayon portrait of a blue-eyed angel with unbroken black wings, the grateful artwork of a child whose ailing mother he cured of cancer without cosmic repercussions on a point of technicality to the great vexation of a waiting reaper. On the desk itself lay the bulky hand-me-down laptop given to him by Sam, which the angel used to watch Netflix in the wee hours of the morning so as not to disturb the sleeping brothers. And over the bed, Dean’s capricious contribution to the barren walls, a poster of an adorable fluffy orange tiger kitten dangling precipitously from a tree branch with the affirmation to Hang in There written in fanciful script along the top and punctuated by an exclamation point for added emphasis. It perturbed Dean to no end that Cas left the poster up, the angel asserting, although he knew it was obviously meant as a cheesy joke on Dean’s part, that it was one of the most heartwarming gifts he’d ever received and would display it reverentially for all time.

Castiel plucked a picture frame from the otherwise unused dresser, flipping it over in his hands to carefully remove the photo inside – a copy of the snapshot Bobby Singer had insisted they pose for, with Jo and Ellen, before that fateful confrontation with Lucifer so many years ago. Standing stiffly on the perimeter of that group of extraordinarily brave souls, he recalled it was the first time in his existence he had truly felt like he had clarity of purpose. He tucked the sentimental photo securely in his trench coat pocket lest, wits and purpose muddled by Heavenly muck, he forget. When he turned around, you were gone.

He found you sitting, having taken a wrong turn trying to find the exit, on the dimly lit staircase of the garage.

He eased onto the step beside you, crossing his arms over his knees and staring at the uninteresting vacant cement block wall opposite which held your rapt attention. After a long silence, he spoke his concern, “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You sighed glumly, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry Castiel, I understand…this place is your home. Sam and Dean, they are your family. I won’t ask you to leave with me. There is nothing in Heaven for you. Seeing you here, I’m not sure there ever was.”

“There is one thing,” he resisted the yearning to grasp your hand, to convey his full meaning with the simple gesture. He feared startling you with the raw emotion behind it. “There only ever was one thing.”

“What’s that?” you peered keenly into his vessel’s blue eyes, the luminous sapphire hue was almost as stunning as the radiant glow of his true form.

He cocked his head, a questioning smile curling his lip, “You really don’t know?”

You shook your head.

He conceded to the desire to touch you, reaching out to gently caress your inquisitively illumined face. Sweeping his thumb tenderly across your cheek, he whispered huskily, “It’s you.”

You did not shy from his outpouring of affection. Eyelids fluttering shut, you leaned into the warmth of his palm and clasped your hand over his. You never imagined your one day with Castiel would dawn beyond the horizons of Heaven. You certainly never dared to dream two angels would have a room of their own to call home amongst humanity – a place together to share, and learn, and grow, and love, forever. You never knew angels weren’t made to love one another, not like humans, but you and Castiel had never been like the other angels.

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shelleyseale · 5 years

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5 Must-Visit Southwest Vacation Destinations

Whether for a stress-relieving holiday getaway or vacation in the New Year, or for experiential gift-giving targeted to those on your “nice list,” travel is top of mind for many this time of year. With that in mind, I wanted to share a collection of my top travel picks of late in the American southwest that are all tried-and-true...by yours truly. I can personally attest that these are five locales you’re sure to love. Kona Kai Resort & Spa First, I hope you can make it over to San Diego, as America’s Finest City boasts some extraordinary properties. This most certainly includes the recently-expanded Kona Kai Resort and Spa, a Noble House resort that I recently experienced. Located on the tip of San Diego’s Shelter Island, it offers a range of amenities and experiences unique to its beautiful waterfront location and rich history. The property has 170 luxurious guest rooms, including 41 brand new suites that feature contemporary island-inspired decor, deep soaking tubs and oversized balconies. The new suite I stayed in had an elegant and dramatic glass fireplace with lighting that can be set to the color of your choice. I love Kona Kai because it’s intimate, especially with décor touches like this, yet all-encompassing.

The resort boasts its very own private beach replete with multiple cozy gas fire pits where you can make s’mores each evening (with kits the hotel offers) as well as multiple swimming pools, waterfront restaurants, an award-winning spa, a superbly picturesque 500-slip marina and the renowned private Kona Kai club. For groups, there’s 55,000 square feet of versatile indoor and outdoor event space. You can sip and savor at the Paloma pool and bar, Kona Kai’s new and exclusive adults-only pool area allowing guests to enjoy poolside craft cocktails and California coastal cuisine while overlooking the marina and some of the region’s most breathtaking sunsets just beyond. Take advantage of their bicycle program and take a refreshing cruise along the sparkling bay in front of the resort, which is replete with impressive sea craft. The property is also extremely well-situated in the city, located just minutes away from San Diego International Airport, the historic downtown Gaslamp Quarter and all of the area’s top attractions. In all, Kona Kai Resort and Spa is a prime destination for both locals and visitors, and a perfect choice for families and couples looking for a convenient getaway. Parq Restaurant & Nightclub Next, for fun-loving gastro travelers heading to San Diego, consider planning a night full of dinner and dancing at Parq, a venue offering an unparalleled nightlife experience in the city’s famed Gaslamp district. Its restaurant offers superb chef-driven cuisine and delectable craft cocktails in a chic and trendy dining space. After dinner, hit the adjacent Parq nightclub boasting the latest technologies and advances in entertainment, premium VIP services, and ongoing live shows featuring top artists. Plus, live DJs will have you dancing all night long!

Parq is definitely a venue like none other in San Diego, making it a stellar venue for an exciting night out on the town. It’s also the perfect locale for celebratory occasions like milestone birthdays, bachelor and bachelorette parties, as well as large guest events like receptions and other private group events seeking a customizable menu and kinetic atmosphere. Luxe Rodeo Drive Hotel Head north a bit and land at the Luxe Rodeo Drive Hotel—the only hotel on Beverly Hills’ iconic Rodeo Drive. A blend of modern style, relaxed southern California spirit and the elegance of Beverly Hills, this boutique hotel features inspired spaces from famed designer Vicente Wolf and genuine hospitality from a dedicated staff.

Revel in unmatched access to world-class shopping, dining and entertainment even just steps from the front door. You’ll also enjoy partaking in the hotel’s exclusive Luxe Club amenities. Like a home-away-from-home, the hotel’s Luxe Club benefits include delicious breakfasts, light lunches, evening tastings with happy hour house wines and cocktails. The happy hour in particular is a fun, lively and communal atmosphere among guests, and there’s plenty of affable staffers on hand to ensure every craving and necessity is met. This hotel also features complimentary bicycle rentals, a second floor outdoor mezzanine and a 360-degree rooftop view that provides incredible sights of the Los Angeles hills and skyline. That fresh outdoor space also hosts the fitness center and weekend “cinema under the stars” events. Luxe Rodeo Drive Hotel is certainly a premier choice for an immersive visit to Beverly Hills. JW Marriott Scottsdale Camelback Inn Resort & Spa For those who love a southwest desert-chic ambiance is the legendary JW Marriott Scottsdale Camelback Inn Resort & Spa. Nestled on 125 acres, this AAA Four Diamond resort’s tranquil setting, private hiking trails, world-class amenities and dynamic interior and exterior architecture offer an authentic Arizona getaway.

It features 453 pet-friendly casita-style accommodations and suites with private patios, seven restaurants, a 32,000 square foot award-winning spa, two championship golf courses, tennis courts and sparkling pools. It even offers a myriad of outdoor hiking and biking adventures. It’s only minutes away from downtown Scottsdale, and just a 20-minute drive to both downtown Phoenix and the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. If you’re a gastro-traveler like myself, food and beverage is a downright essential part of a vacation experience and, fortunately, Camelback Inn delivers on this front as well with seven eateries at your disposal. Their signature on-site restaurant—Lincoln, a JW Steakhouse—is unequivocally one to not be missed. It offers a traditional steakhouse concept with modern touches, including decadent dishes and processes that exemplify culinary ingenuity. The resort also houses Rita’s Kitchen for fabulous breakfast, brunch, lunch and dinner either indoors or al fresco, as well as Sprouts at the Spa and the pool-side Hoppin’ Jacks, which offers casual options such as pizza and sandwiches. In addition to the dining options on the main property, Acacia at Camelback Golf Club has an open-air lounge with an outdoor fireplace where patrons can partake in American style fare. In addition to its unique setting and fabulous amenities, the resort is known for its impeccable customer service, which workers credit to the company’s philosophy that taking care of its employees will result in an enhanced ability to best care for customers. The satisfaction among staffers is exuded in every touch-point throughout a guest’s experience, throughout which smiles and “above and beyond” service abound. For more than 82 years, this destination has maintained a legacy and standard of excellence by welcoming generations of guests, Hollywood celebrities and U.S. Presidents since its opening in 1936. It’s a favorite vacation spot for the Marriott family, and myself, to this day! iPic Theaters Scottsdale For a fun night out while in Scottsdale or Phoenix check out iPic Theaters. This premier luxury restaurant-and-theater brand, with locations throughout the U.S., is a pioneer of the dine-in theater concept. iPic Scottsdale provides chef-driven culinary and mixology offerings inside premium movie theaters as well as an artisanal Italian on-site bar and restaurant called Tanzy. Be sure to order the mozzarella appetizer prepared tableside!

At iPic, guests enjoy an elevated entertainment experience with plush, fully reclining leather chairs encapsulated within their own private viewing pod, which also come furnished with courtesy pillows, blankets and unlimited popcorn. Premium plus seating pods harness revolutionary acoustic technology for superior sound. Each pod has a swivel dining table and seat-side service call button. Relax and enjoy a movie while savoring cuisine from a signature menu designed by a three-time James Beard award-winning chef. Now that’s entertainment! ~~~ ***Some or all of the accommodations(s), experience(s), item(s) and/or service(s) detailed above may have been provided or arranged at no cost to accommodate this review, but all opinions expressed are entirely those of Merilee Kern and have not been influenced in any way.*** Read the full article

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