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marmolady · 5 years

Text

Home, Sweet Home

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. This follows on directly from my fic ‘Broken Chains’, but should be easily enough to ‘get’ without reading it first. Estela is returning home to her tio in San Trobida at last, bringing Taylor and Jake along with her. For Taylor, it is the beginning of a search for belonging outside of the only world she’s ever known.

Warnings: Coarse language

Word Count: 6345

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @sceptilemasterr @bbaba-yagaa@edgydepressedchoicesthot @endlesssummerfan@blightarts @princessstellaris @acidsugar0 @taramitch96

Taylor jiggled her leg erratically, glancing as she did between the aeroplane window and Estela.

“You don’t have to be so nervous…” Estela leaned in to kiss her. “He’s gonna like you. Just… don’t expect it overnight.”

Groaning, Taylor slumped deeper into her chair. “He’s gonna grill me to death.”

“Yup.”

She buried her head in her hands as Jake laughed beside her.

“You’re doomed, Princess…”

“Get off her, cabron; it’s you who’s gonna have to work for it. You’re not half as likeable.”

“Ouch.”

The pilot -not Jake, the competent one flying the plane- announced the beginning of their descent, and all at once, Taylor was not the only one with apprehension showing in her face.

“Hey…” she urged, taking Estela’s hand in her own. “Don’t look so worried; it’s not as if we’ve got that idiot flying us this time.”

“Wait- is this what I’ve got to look forward to? You two takin’ shots at me all day?”

Taylor smirked; poking fun at Jake was good for settling her own butterflies. “That and watching us make out… yeah. That’s pretty much what you’ve signed up for, Top Gun. Get used to it.”

Estela was quiet. She was excited to see her tio again, to see her home again, but it meant returning to an existence that belonged to someone who was no longer her. Would that closed-off, fatally single-minded person creep back up on her, taking her over and send her back into a hell of furious despair? Where did this new, healed Estela fit into the world she’d left behind? There was so much her tio didn’t know… so much she’d have to tell him…

A warm breath against her cheek, a fluttering kiss, and Estela was pulled from her thoughts.

“It’s… gonna be weird,” said Taylor gently, “but, like the best kind of weird. Which by now, I’m pretty sure is our specialty.” Putting on a brave face, she told herself resolutely that after everything she’d been through with Estela, going home should hardly constitute a challenge at all. They were going to be just fine.

After a smooth landing that prompted another round of mocking Jake’s flying skills, the trio had to contend with passport checks; the part that Taylor- who’d been zapped into existence out of thin air- had been dreading. It seemed, however, that Vaanu was just as skilled at whipping up official documents as they were creating people, and she was nodded through security without a second glance. The trio finally emerged into the dingy, crowded airport with bags in tow, Jake trailing a few steps behind the two women who held hands for mutual support. As she spotted a grey-haired man waiting next to the barrier, Taylor let Estela’s hand go, and gave her a gentle nudge in the right direction.

Estela’s eyes met with those of the tall, grey-haired man, her beloved tio. Her breath caught in her throat. “Tio…” She lurched forward and let herself be captured in his arms, held with a loving intensity beyond anything she’d ever felt from him. It was as though he was back from the dead… and even as she felt those strong arms around her, she could barely accept that it was real.

“Oh, mija…” Nicolas took her face in his hands and stared at her, disbelieving, before kissing her on the forehead.

She cried, euphoric. After all this time, after all the worry she’d put him through, she was back home. “I can’t believe it’s you… I… I’m sorry.”

“My Estelita, you are home now.”

Hanging back beside Jake, Taylor had to dry her eyes. She’d risked everything for this moment, and it was worth it. Still, the nervousness that shook her body had reached fever pitch. With no relatives of her own, she needed Nicolas’ acceptance on a deep level. She felt Jake clap her on the shoulder.

“Come on, Princess, making friends with people is like your superpower. You won over Katniss in just a few days… and she was in full creepy loner mode. You’ll just knock him out with your magical friendship beams. Gotta put a patent on those, by the way.”

“That’s helping. Really,” Taylor responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm. It was true that she had an effortless way of getting along with people, but this wasn’t just people. This was her best shot at a family that she could always return home to.

Estela took her tio’s hand and led him to where Taylor and Jake waited for her. “I need you to meet someone…”

Seeing the tears in her wife’s eyes, Taylor’s first instinct was to reach out and hold her, but she instead mouthed a quick, “Are you okay?”. A tiny nod and a kiss to the side of her face gave her all the reassurance she needed.

“Tio, this is Taylor, my… my wife.” Estela’s face flushed with happiness and pride as she looked to the woman who made her heart soar. “Taylor, I’d like you to meet Tio Nicolas.”

Taylor could barely think over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, but she collected herself enough to offer her hand and receive in return a firm handshake. “It means a lot to meet you at last,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt to her. “I know Estela loves and admires you so much.”

Scrutiny was clear in Nicolas’ eyes, but he nonetheless greeted her warmly. “It is clear you’ve made quite an impression yourself.”

Drawn into Estela’s arms, her safe place, Taylor immediately felt surer of herself. “We’ve been through a lot together,” she said simply.

Nicolas offered her a nod of acknowledgement before glancing to Jake, who’d held back a little. “So, you brought the pilot home?”

“She wore me down,” Jake said, and he held out his hand. This guy seemed all right; he had a definite no-nonsense air about him, which was hardly a surprise.

“Tio- Jake, Jake- Tio Nicolas.”

His eyes narrowed as he took Jake’s hand, but Nicolas shook it politely. “Dios, you can’t let her do that. Once you show that you’re weak, the upper hand is gone forever.”

“Ha. Don’ I know it.”

In Nicolas’ car, a rust-bitten four-wheel-drive that had clearly seen better days, Taylor perched on the back seat with Jake, feeling it rocking ominously beneath her. She pulled at the seatbelt, but it wouldn’t come.

“Sorry, it’s a bit unstable,” said Estela, “but the two of you sitting on it should be enough weight to keep the back from collapsing.”

They drove out through the city, and with the windows down, their senses were assaulted by car horns blaring, the dirty scents of a developing urban landscape, the muggy air. It was an overload, so starkly different from anything Taylor had ever known. She took this new world in with wide eyes. It was bustling and busy, and beautiful, yet there was an undercurrent of danger; walls built high, windows barred, barbed wire atop every fence. There appeared to be no rules on the roads, with cars pulling in front of one another whenever the drivers saw fit. The loud honking of petulant road-users seemed never-ending.

Estela looked back to Taylor. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great… it’s amazing!”

“It’s home.”

The streets soon became less crowded, the roads quieter. Rainforest had been cleared for farmland, but Taylor saw glimpses of forest that reminded her of the tropics of La Huerta. They turned in to a sprawling compound, defended by armed guards and sharp wires overhanging the tall fences.

“Most people live in one of these,” Estela was saying. “It’s safer if you know who’s around. Even in here everyone is on their guard; when the war was going on, you never knew who you could trust.”

Nicolas nodded. “It is better now. Within the communities there is a sense of building something together. It is fragile, yes, but we have survived the worst.”

Jake was also taking in the surroundings with great curiosity. It had been hard to know what to expect- only rarely had he flown passengers to San Trobida, for most tourists were warned off. Warzones were not alien to him, but he’d not experienced the recovery that came afterwards.

A little while later, they pulled up near the beach, having opted for some fresh air after having been cooped up in the aeroplane. Home, Taylor and Jake had been told, was just a short walk away. A long day of travel, of harrowing goodbyes and new beginnings had taken its toll, and the three Catalysts were wrecked. The wind off the rough sea was wonderfully refreshing as they sat upon the sand, shoulder to shoulder.

Before Estela could truly relax, though, there were conversations that needed to be had.

“You don’t mind if I leave you for a little while?” She searched Taylor’s eyes, but she appeared to be taking everything in her stride. Her incredible Taylor… always rolling with whatever life threw her way.

“What-? No! No, of course not.” Taylor pulled her in for a delicate kiss and gave her an affirming squeeze. “There’s so much you’ve got to say to him; you need space to do that. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Estela smiled appreciatively, and then rummaged in her pockets, pulling out a crinkled San Trobidan note. “Take this. If you keep walking to the river, there’ll be a place selling ice creams. Or I think there will be… it’s honestly been a while. But you should be able to find something if you’re hungry, okay? We’ll meet you both up that way when we’re done.”

“Cold desserts on a beautiful beach? Now I know I’ll somehow soldier on in your absence.” Taylor winked and tugged Estela back to her, just for a few moments more. Her expression became thoughtful, serious, and she saw it reflected in her lover’s eyes. “Take a deep breath…”

Letting Taylor guide her, Estela exhaled slowly. All that she had to tell her tio… it was not sunshine and rainbows. The devastation she’d felt when she discovered that it was a trusted friend who had mercilessly slaughtered her mother- Nicolas’ sister; she wished she could spare him the same heartbreak. She wished she could spare herself the pain of reliving it. And she had questions… had he known who her father was all along, or was it a secret even from him? If he didn’t know… would the revelation forever warp her in his eyes? The thought of what she’d been created from made Estela want to vomit. She couldn’t expect him to love her the same knowing whose blood coursed through her veins. And even beyond all that, how could she begin to explain Taylor?

Taylor cradled her wife’s face in her hands, stroking loose hair from her fearful eyes with gentle fingers. “…Estela…” she whispered. “I’m with you, my starlight. You’re strong enough for this.”

Though her eyes were determined, Estela’s breath shuddered as she reluctantly pulled away, wobbling slightly getting up on her feet. “Taylor… thank you. I’ll see you real soon. You’re good, cabron?”

“I can see a hammock, and a bar. I’m set.” He stood up and stretched, groaning dramatically, before giving her a playful shove which meant, his eye catching hers. It was something Jake had dreaded himself; the hard part of reuniting with family. As much as he desperately wished to go home, he couldn’t help but be silently glad he wasn’t the one having those conversations. Without saying another word, he knew she got the message; he was there for her.

Leaving their companions behind, uncle and niece walked side by side along the beach until they settled on a rocky outcrop, the foamy sea lapping at their feet.

Estela played with her hair. Where to even begin? “I guess this is easiest if I just go from when we landed on the island? I’ll get to the things that are important, but there’s so much… and you should know everything.”

“Whatever is comfortable,” said Nicolas, kindly. It was clear that his niece was happier within herself than she had been when he’d last seen her face, but knowing her purpose for going to La Huerta, that some of what she would recount would be difficult to share seemed inevitable. “In your own good time.”

“Right.” She bit her lip before beginning. “So, as we came in to land, we hit this storm…”

And she talked him through the eventful first weeks of her time on La Huerta; the deserted resort, her search for Rourke, the nature of the work being conducted on the island… and then the revelations that had brought her to her knees… the details of her mother’s murder… the truth about her own identity.

“…I just… I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me. My whole life, I thought she’d always be honest with me, that she could tell me everything. Didn’t I have a right to know I was…” Her voice cracked. “…his.” Hearing it out loud, Estela hunched up on herself, ashamed. “Did you… know?”

Nicolas grasped her shoulder tight and shook his head. “I didn’t know.” He stared out to sea, hurting for his niece. “I would not have kept it from you if I did. Your mom told me that you were unplanned and that the father was not interested; I didn’t need to know more than that. I’m sorry, mija.”

Unable to look at him, to see the disgust in her that would surely be on his face, Estela stared at her own hands as they wrung with anxiety.

“Estelita,” Nicolas’ hold on her shoulder became almost painful in his desperation to reassure her. “It has never mattered who your father was. You are you, not anything else. Look at me!”

Flinching, Estela’s gaze nervously darted to her tio’s face. There was no revulsion there… none at all. Her eyes closed as he stroked her cheek, smearing away the tear that ran down it.

“My little star. I could not be more proud of you. I love you.” He kissed her forehead. “No more tears.”

“I love you too. I’ve missed you so damn much.” Estela wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and slowly breathed out the tension that had built up in her body.

Nicolas gave a quiet and affectionate laugh. “I missed you. In your absence, I have gotten far too accustomed to winning arguments. It is almost tiresome.”

She hugged him. Despite the blood she carried within her like some festering disease, he saw her no differently. Deep down she’d known he would love her the same, but some fears had no care for reason. How could she have ever doubted?

“Tell me about your esposa. The mysterious lady from the crystals. I see that when you look at her, your face is like sunshine.”

Estela’s cheeks flushed pink. This was a side to her that her tio had never seen, and it felt strange -yet liberating- to share it with him.

“She was always… different. I’d got so used to everyone being fearful of me, it sorta threw me off when she wasn’t… like at all. She was just curious. From that first night on La Huerta, Taylor… just seemed to care about me, wanting nothing in return but my friendship. Not needing any explanations for what I was on the island for, she wanted to help.” She gave a dry laugh. “I don’t even remember the last time someone genuinely wanted to be my friend. Maybe when I was, what, six? Anyhow, my gut told me I could trust her. And I had, uh, feelings for her, and it freaked me the hell out…”

“Ah, our Estelita with her first crush… I wish I could have seen you trying to flirt…” Nicolas teased, earning a jab in the arm.

“Shut up! And I did not try to flirt. I actually did everything I could to avoid that; I couldn’t be distracted. But then I had to rescue her from a hangar about to explode, and then the dumbass went and got bitten by a snake and I was sucking on her neck and…”

Nicolas roared with laughter, while Estela’s face turned flaming red. She slapped him over the head several times.

“Tio!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It just sounds like your worst nightmare.” He wiped tears from his eyes.

“It wasn’t my worst nightmare, but it shook me up. So, uh, we were preparing for the attack by the native people and stuff um… happened… between us.” She hastily cleared her throat as her face blushed even brighter. “And then I got it in my head… what I felt with her scared me, but it just might be, you know, worth it, if we could face the world together. I told her everything, and she should have freaked, she should have run away, but that wasn’t who she was… she wanted to be on my side. I wanted to be on hers. After that… I was with the other students, part of their group, and it was just the beginning…”

“You know what’s weird?” Taylor was asking as she strolled along the unfamiliar beach.

Jake gave her a look. He’d known enough weird by now that it barely even registered. “Since this all started, better off askin’ what’s not weird.”

“Well, I guess that’s kind of it. There are people around. I don’t know them, and they’re not blue or green. It’s like… the real world. It’s just bizarre.” She glanced back the way they’d came. “I hope Estela’s all right; this talk’s got to be heavy.”

“Startin’ to sound like a broken record there, Princess. She’s fine. I’m sure she’ll put in a good word for you an’ all. C’mon, ice cream and a cold beer!”

The vendor huts along the beach reminded Taylor strongly of Colonnade Cove… then she remembered Estela commenting on the same. The thought made her smile to herself. Unlike Gurgi, these vendors had a well-developed sense of hospitality, with hammocks set up to entice beachgoers to stay and relax. When Taylor sank into one, tied up between two trees and hanging close enough to Jake’s that they could annoy one another with pokes and prods, she wondered how she’d ever find the energy to climb out again. As she licked her ice cream, she watched a group of children playing in the river that Estela had pointed out. Connecting a fast-moving flow into the choppy sea, the effect was a foaming watery playground that tugged the squealing kids off their feet with every step. The waters surrounding La Huerta had always been so placid -at least once Cetus was no longer around to influence things; San Trobida had a contrasting fierceness in its nature.

When she at last spotted Estela and Nicolas walking up to the beach, Taylor almost fell out of her hammock and ran, ignoring Jake’s laughing at her. Immediately swept up into Estela’s arms, she felt relief. Her wife’s eyes were red from the inevitable crying, but she seemed bright… happy.

“You missed me, then?”

“You left me with Jake. He convinced some guy to lend him his guitar… my ears are crying. Besides, I always miss you.”

Nicolas shook his head, laughing at them. “Dios! Not even an hour and we’ve got a Romeo and Juliet routine… Do you want some real food, or do you want to keep gazing into one another’s eyes?”

While Nicolas went to order an evening meal to share, Taylor and Estela headed to the shady trees overlooking the river, where Jake was waiting for them.

Estela could feel her wife waiting for her to speak.

“It was okay,” she said, “… I’m okay.” She leaned in for a kiss, and took Taylor’s hand in her own. “He knows about you. That you came from the prism energy that Mom was studying. I think I told him just about everything.” She saw the question in her eyes, the one that she would not push. “Tio didn’t know about Rourke. It was just… just Mom’s secret.”

Taylor stroked her cheek. “You look lighter in your face.”

“Now I’m not half expecting him to reject me, yeah. It was so stupid, but I needed to hear it from him that it didn’t change anything.”

“Anyone would be out of their mind not to love you to pieces…”

Estela rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Taylor… you’re so soft. They’re gonna eat you alive out here,” she joked.

“Rude. I have kicked your butt on more than one occasion…”

“…Shhhh! You don’t have to shout about it!” Estela laughed and went in for another kiss to shut her up, savouring the taste of Taylor’s slightly wind-chapped lips. When she reluctantly came away, she pressed her forehead against her love’s. “You’re not too overwhelmed by everything? It must be a shock to your system. It’s a shock to mine and I’ve lived here almost all my life…”

“I’m good, honest. It feels like a dream, and I think I’ll be absolutely wiped out by the time I get to bed, but it’s exciting. I can’t believe I’m here with you.” Taylor beamed, seeing pure happiness reflected in her wife’s face.

“I can’t believe it either.” Estela looked out onto her home, so much more beautiful for the time she’d spent away, and for the woman who now sat beside her. She exhaled, content. “All right, I’m gonna go get some drinks. Share a milkshake with me? The best in San Trobida.”

“That is not even a question. Thanks, love.”

“What about you? Don’t think I haven’t seen you eyeing up Tio’s rum.”

Jake rolled over and stretched out, falling onto his feet from the hammock. “Pretty sure a milkshake ain’t gonna cut it. Let’s see what ya’ve got that’s stronger.”

Taylor was soon joined by Nicolas, who sat upon a rock with his flask of rum, and met her eye with a scrutinising look.

“Hey, uh… thanks for dinner,” she said. “I didn’t even realise we haven’t eaten properly since breakfast.” Apparently, that gaze- the one that felt as though your soul was being stared right through- was a family trait. “Estela went to get drinks with Jake...” Her voice trailed off, and she tried not to wither under pressure.

Nicolas’ voice was sharp when he spoke. “She thinks a lot of you. That doesn’t happen very often. I need to hear it from you… what are your intentions with her?”

Taylor sat up straight, looking him dead in the eye. Forthcoming and direct to the point was the only approach to take; even if her stomach churned. This, she imagined, must be what going for a job interview was like… if the potential employer was a man capable of slicing her into pieces with a sword.

“Estela is… my world,” she said. “I want us to build a life together, side-by-side. I want to give her the future she deserves.”

“But what do you know of the future? You’ve never known anything else; I know what you are. What happens when you get out there in the world, and realise life would be easier without the baggage? You’re not trapped on the island any longer… you could walk away from her at any time.”

The questions rang like accusations, and Taylor felt herself get her back up, more than defensive… angry.

“I know she’s got baggage. I’ve got fucking baggage- I get it. But I know how damned privileged I am that she trusts me with every single part of her. That did not happen overnight- I earned that. And I will not hear an insinuation that I could ever, ever sacrifice her faith in me. When I say Estela means everything to me, I mean that she’s the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing before I go to sleep; I mean that she could offer me the slightest glance and it would be enough to give me the courage to fight an army; I mean that seeing her hurt is like a physical pain. Her heart is safe with me. Always.”

For several excruciatingly long moments, Nicolas held Taylor’s gaze in silence. Slowly, a crooked smile played on his mouth. “Well, you have a backbone to stand up for yourself, that’s something.”

“Do you think I’d be married to Estela if I didn’t? I’m nobody’s shrinking violet.”

The silver-haired man chuckled, but his sharp eyes retained the shadows of suspicion. “You’ll forgive me for being wary. My trust is not something I give easily.” He studied her, curious. She spoke with passion, and with the stories Estela had told him, it was hard to doubt that her word was true. To see his niece so happy… at peace within herself after all this time… he wanted to believe in this person who’d shown her the way. More than anything, he wanted this to be real, for the niece he’d so desperately tried to protect all her life.

“I understand,” Taylor said steadily, thankful that her outburst hadn’t backfired. “It’s been a long time that you’ve been the only person in her corner. After everything that’s happened… I guess I’d be protective too. I just hope you’ll see what she means to me.” She offered her hand, biting back her nerves. When Nicolas took it, a glint in his eye, she almost gave an outward sigh of relief. Of course, Estela was right; this wouldn’t happen instantly, but she now had faith that in time, it would fall into place. Acceptance. They were, after all, family now.

“I am looking forward to knowing you, mi sobrina en la ley.”

“Tio! No puedes interrogarla en cuanto me doy la vuelta!”

Nicolas just laughed as Estela stormed over, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Niña, ella está bien! We were just talking; my heart breaks that you don’t trust your old tio… Can I not get to know Esposita? She is my niece now, no?”

Seeing that Taylor was unruffled, the blazing fire left Estela’s eyes as quickly as it had come. The fact that her tio was already speaking of Taylor with a term of endearment was encouraging. She hmphed. “Maybe I’m a little protective…” She handed her wife an enormous milkshake, and realised that she too was laughing at her. “Hey! What’s your problem?”

“You can’t exactly jump on your tio for being excessively protective when you’re doing the same damn thing… and don’t you glower at me!”

Estela grumbled under her breath. “Might be a family trait.” Joking aside, that Taylor was not going to put up with nonsense from Nicolas would serve her well. He did not suffer fools, and he needed to know that she wouldn’t either. She felt her nuzzle close.

“You were right- this milkshake is amazing!”

Nicolas held out his rum to them. “Just a little… then it will be perfección.”

The sun slowly set on the San Trobidan beach, and the refreshing winds turned biting. Waiting for their dinner, the three friends barely felt it. In the shallows, Jake had been roped into sparring with Nicolas, who was providing ongoing critique on his performance as they jousted with heavy sticks, all set to the sound of giggling from the two tipsy women who watched them from the shore.

“Laugh it up, Katniss!” he yelled back to Estela over the wind, “You’ll get your turn. Much as I hate to be the one to tell your tio how sloppy you got…”

“Sloppy?”

“Ya heard right.”

“Coming from you? If ‘all over the place’ is a technique, you mastered it long ago, cara de pito!”

Jake sniggered, but had to re-focus quickly to avoid being clocked in the kneecaps. “My Spanish ain’t up to much, but I’m guessin’ that wasn’t friendly.”

“Ha! Friendly, it was not. But if you are so easily distracted, perhaps you are worthy of such a taunt.”

“Culo peludo!”

“That was not complimentary either, my friend. I am sorry- my sobrina, she has the manners of a burra.” Nicolas turned slightly to call out to her, easily keeping his opponent at bay as he did. Jake’s style was fast and furious, and that meant that he was now tiring. “Where did we go so wrong, Estelita?”

Shoulder to shoulder, Taylor and Estela shared their slightly boozy milkshake, holding one another close, and warm with mirth. Rhythmic beats pulsed out from the nearby stalls, and the air was filled with chatter as families gathered for dinner. It was… chaotically idyllic. And then, they’d kiss, and all else would fade into the background.

Then was the food. A steaming platter of tamales shared between four filled a rumbling void, all but inhaled the second it was set down upon the sand. Taylor tucked in gratefully, sitting almost on Estela’s lap, and gazed out to the stars that began to pepper the darkening sky. She wondered after the rest of her friends… they felt so far away. But here she was, full and contented, a breath away from her Estela, and with Jake coming along with them for the ride. A fresh start. Taylor felt herself slipping, leaning in just to remain upright. Still recovering from losing the alien part of herself, she tired easily, and the day had been long and eventful.

“…Taylor… carińa, you’re ready to go home?”

She nodded and reached up to stroke Estela’s face. “Are you?”

Estela’s smile was endlessly affectionate. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Come on, mi amor.”

The house was small and plain, but backed onto a quiet and secluded stretch of beach just a short walk from where they’d left the car. As they approached, Taylor’s hand was grasped by Estela’s, prompting a supportive squeeze.

Nicolas pushed the door open. “Home, sweet home.”

It was just as Taylor had seen in the vision Vaanu had given Estela; simple but welcoming, hints of the lives lived there in pictures on the wall, books piled on shelves.

“Princess!” Jake hissed, tugging at her hair to get her attention. “Baby Katniss at two-o’clock!”

Taylor had to hold in a squeal as she spotted a photograph on the window ledge. A tiny Estela, surely less than two years old, reaching up for whoever it was who’d taken the picture. “Oh, sweet lord,” she said quietly, automatically reaching out to hug Estela’s arm. “I think my ovaries just exploded…”

“Yes, I was a baby once. Can we move on?”

Nicolas smirked. “Oh, Estelita… you don’t want to break out the baby album? All these years, your frowny old face never changes…”

Ignoring the taunt, Estela showed Jake to the spare room. Tentatively, she pushed the door, feeling her heart drumming violently against her ribs. It had been years since anyone had slept in that room. “So, uh, you can sleep here,” she said. “We’ve kept all the personal stuff safe out the way, so you can make yourself comfortable without worrying about disturbing anything.”

Jake made to step forward but hesitated. “Are you sure this is okay? I don’t mind the couch if this is uncomfortable for you. Honest, it would not bother me at all.”

Estela met her friend’s eyes, appreciating his deep care for her. “I invited you here because I want you here. You’re practically family; you sleep in a proper room.”

She let Jake pull her into a hug, lingering and heartfelt, before letting him settle in. Then there was Taylor’s hand on her arm.

“Estela, are you all right?”

“Fine. I swear, I’m fine.” She pressed a sweet kiss to Taylor’s lips. “I’ll just say goodnight to Tio, then we’ll go to bed, okay?”

A short while later, Taylor followed Estela into a small, boxy room, a single bed in the corner, and a distinct feeling of being untouched for quite some time.

“This is us…” Estela said, putting down their bags beside the bed. “…I know Jake’s is bigger, but I can’t sleep in that room. It’s….” She heaved a sigh. “You get it, right?”

With a kiss to her wife’s shoulder, Taylor wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, and buried her face in her hair. “Of course, love. If this is home for you, it’s home for me. It’s nice and cosy in here… just enough room for us.”

Stripping down to their underwear, the two women crashed out on the bed, lying side by side in the tight space. Exhaustion had crept up on Estela. The past day… everything that had happened, it was almost too much to process. It didn’t seem possible that the other Catalysts were now countless miles away, making their own way home. And that just outside her window was the San Trobida she’d said goodbye to when her mission for revenge took her to Hartfeld. Everything felt so… normal. All that she’d seen since she’d left… the end of the world, for crying out loud… it seemed to have left no mark. She lay on her bed, and it was as though she’d never been away, but for Taylor right beside her, stirring her senses without so much as a word or a touch. And yet, this new piece fit into the puzzle, creating a picture so beautiful.

Taylor struggled to keep her eyes open, even in her desperation to drink in every detail of this place, a place from a recollection or a wish, her love’s memories brought to life before her. The sheets were thin and worn, the mattress slightly hard. It was by no means the luxury Taylor had become accustomed to. But tucked up in that small room, she could feel Estela all around her, in the scent that lingered on every piece of fabric, in the select precious photos that adorned the nightstand and dresser, in the hard edges that belied the endlessly comforting warmth within. So far removed from the familiarity of La Huerta, she felt at home.

Estela noticed Taylor’s weary eyes land on the framed photograph nearest to the bed. One that tugged painfully at her heartstrings.

“That was just before she left,” she murmured. “Maybe… the day before? I kept it by my bed so it was the first thing I saw in the morning- not that I needed a reminder of what was taken from me, but to make sure I woke up fighting.” She sighed, sadly. “Tio used to take a lot of pictures of us. After this one it stopped. I didn’t feel anything worth looking back and remembering, and I don’t think he did either.”

Taylor took her hand and squeezed. The Estela in the photograph was not unlike the one she knew so well, but clearly younger, and with no long scar over her eye. Beneath the smile was something like apprehension, dread for the separation to come. Olivia Montoya was so like her daughter, perhaps lacking the same quiet fierceness, but there was great inner strength shining through her dark eyes.

“I wish I could have known her, to have her see me as a daughter,” she said wistfully.

“She really would have loved you. Everything you’ve done… giving yourself completely to care for the people you love… she’d be proud to have you as family.” Estela studied Taylor’s earnest face, now just an inch from her own. There was little she wouldn’t give to have just a single day with her as part of the family they should have had. She could imagine conversations; her mother would, of course, have been fascinated with Taylor, born as she was of the energy source she’d been dedicated to studying. For her part, Taylor would have relentlessly asked about Estela’s childhood, seeking the stories that only a mother would hold onto. It wasn’t to be, and the pain could never completely fade. What she had, though, what she saw in those sweet eyes, was a promise of happiness that grief could not temper. She drew her in, slowly brushing her lips against her Taylor’s, taking her time to let the soft caress grow deeper, harder, until the emotion behind it was too all-consuming to allow her to carry on. “I love you, Taylor…” she breathed.

“And I love you.”

Estela reached for Taylor’s phone on the nightstand. She played with it in her hands and felt her cheeks flush, self-conscious. “We should take a picture. I…uh… I want to… to live a life worth remembering… like before. To collect the memories again.

“So… right here, right now? Lying on your bed in our underwear? Not that you don’t look cute as heck…”

“Right now…” Estela rolled her hips so that she was pressed even closer to her wife. “With you, here, I’m… happy. In a way I don’t want to forget.”

“Yeah? I don’t want to forget this feeling either. Gimme that- you might be skilled when it’s life-or-death, but you can’t take a selfie for shit.”

Settling down to sleep, the two lovers removed what little clothing remained between them and snuggled close. Estela surrounded Taylor like a full-body shield; she was hers, and protected always. As Taylor’s eyelids grew ever heavier, she took a moment to glance at the photograph on her phone before giving in to slumber. She’d caught the moment she’d planted a kiss on Estela’s eye, having aimed for her cheek and missed as she fidgeted in front of the camera. Estela’s face was scrunched up with laughter; she honestly looked as though she hadn’t a care in the world. The image brought a fond smile to Taylor’s face. She closed her eyes and let herself be lulled to sleep by the feel of Estela’s chest rising and falling against her back, the rhythm of her heart, the gentle heat that radiated off her scarred skin. If these were the memories she’d build her new life from, she need never look forward with trepidation again. Her star… her Estela… she’d follow her anywhere.

#endless summer #playchoices #estela x mc #jake mckenzie #estela montoya #choices fanfiction

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northofsomewhererp · 5 years

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Your Name, Age (17+), & Timezone: Natasha, 24, EST

Your Birthday: 12/19/93

Calliope Rowena Grimshaw turned 27 years old on January 14. She a Food and Beverage Manager in Greensville. Her face claim is Jessica Parker Kennedy.

Admin Note: Hi Natasha, welcome to NOS! All you need to do now is send in Calliope’s account, and we can get your follow link posted (we’ll also get you a link to the OOC). If you have any questions, please feel free to reach out, we’re here to help! We look forward to RPing with you!! - Admin Tash

Bio: Calliope was born to a Swedish divorcee who was in the middle of a whirlwind romance with a new man. They were married before Calliope could even sit up and her brother was born that December. Growing up with brown skin among her very Nordic family with parents who seemed to actively distance themselves from her led her astray. She met disaster (James) when she was nine and by the time she was twelve, there was no going back. Her teenage years were spent on drugs, prostitution and misery. The worst day (at least, it seemed like it at that point), was when he kicked her out, unwilling to raise a child. She was nineteen, then. She went back to her parents for support and, after the baby, Diona, was born, was set up in an apartment and she never heard from them again. Things stayed terrible for two years. Diona was born small because of the drugs, Calliope had no friends or family to support her, and she was attacked by a John one night, which pushed her to seek out a job as a cashier. That hardly afforded her enough to keep herself and Diona fed, let alone comfortable, so she went to the only person she could think of, Frankie, an older half-sister she’d stumbled upon seven years ago.

That marked a shift in her life, the moment when everything very slowly began to come together. Her sister gave her a job bartending, the lodger she kept, Ransom, became a babysitter for Diona, and Calliope got to be a normal-ish, if not overly stressed, 22 year old. She started feeling safe enough to make friendships, she excelled at her job and started making recommendations for the menu, and she started to think about James less often. The next year, she went with her sister and her performance troupe on a European tour, playing with the band and providing food until they reached Sweden, where she spent the second leg with a maternal cousin, teaching Diona Swedish and recording some songs. When she was 24, she and Ransom started dating and (accidentally) started a family, which came with more heartbreak and hardship. Milo was born in August of 2017, and they were still working to clean up the mess falling in love caused by the time his first birthday came. The worst of it was over, however, and they’d gotten used to helping each other with their personal messes before they ever dated. Life was more stable than it had been since she was a child. She only hoped it would stay that way.

Activity (1-10): 7

Have you read the rules?: removed

Would you like to be paired with a buddy to have character connections with (For new applicants)? Sure~

In the event that you leave, can we keep your biography for future use? No. Any comments/questions?: I’d rather my bio not be broadcasted out into JPK’s tag or anything, please.

Sample( 2+ paragraphs):

“Oh…. Th-that….”

“Y-yes, that,” Frankie repeated, sounding stern, despite her hiccuping. Somehow, she always managed to be intimidating when she needed to be. Calliope didn’t understand it.

“He…. W-we…. I….” Calliope was at a complete loss for words. She probably know that Frankie was going to have something to say to her when she found out that Diona was calling her boyfriend Daddy, but she felt like she’d been blindsided with a punch to the gut nonetheless.

“C-Calliope,” she started authoritatively, “You two have been together for what, a month? And n-now this? Do you really think that’s smart?”

“I… I don’t know. She started calling him that and then he, he told me…. He’s OK with it…. H-he’s happy about it, I think, and…. They love each other, so…. She needs a father,” she murmured, not looking at Frankie. Calliope knew that letting Diona call RJ Daddy was a risk, a big one, but she didn’t want to stop her. Not if it was what they both wanted. What she wanted, as well.

“Lily, did you need a father? Did I?” Frankie asked indignantly. What was she trying to say? That women couldn’t manage on their own? Her mother certainly had, along with millions of other ones. And their father had abandoned the both of them before they were born, without a second thought. How could she want anything to do with him?

“Yes. I did,” Calliope answered forcefully, nodding her head as she did. “My life would’ve been totally different if he stayed. I might have gone to finished high school and gone to college and had a normal job before I was twenty-two and-.”

“And you wouldn’t have had Diona, nor would you have your little brother and sister, or me, or any of your friends, or your cousin. The list goes on and on and on. Would you really want things to be that way?” Why were they even having this discussion? Frankie never thought that, even after everything that went on, Calliope would want to do it all over again so things could’ve been easier. Just because it would’ve been easier didn’t mean she would be happy. She was happy now, wasn’t she?

Calliope looked down to the floor again as she listened to her sister, this time in irritation. “Are you done yet?” she asked pointedly. “I know all that, Frankie. I wouldn’t change anything. Not with the way things are now. But I certainly wouldn’t be sad if things had gone better before now, either. Can you blame me? Really?”

Frankie glared over at Calliope for a moment, but relented finally, and sighed. “No. I guess not.”

“No,” Calliope repeated, “You can’t.” She folded her arms and took a deep breath, trying to calm down a little, as difficult as it was. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that Frankie saw her as slightly incompetent. At least slightly. And no, Cal didn’t have the best self image or the most confidence in her abilities as a mother or an artist or anything, but it hurt her to know that her sister felt that way, even if it was only a tiny bit.

“But you have to admit that I have a point. At least with her natural father, she didn’t even know him, so she was never hurt by him. If RJ goes, she’ll be just as crushed as you. Maybe more so,” Frankie reasoned, softening her tone, trying to diffuse the situation and still get her point across.

“I know that, Frankie,” Calliope she answered, emphatically and exasperatedly. “I know. When he told me, I was terrified. And I still am. I thought about exactly what you’re saying, and I even tried to bring it up to him, but he said that you can’t go into a relationship and expect to it end, and he’s right.” Calliope shook her head as she spoke, seeming to say, ‘Why don’t you get it? How do I make you trust me?’ “I can’t just pretend that I’m not still worried that it’s going to happen someday, and it’ll be my fault, but I’m not going to let it get in the way. Besides, we don’t even know if he’d leave. He could still want to be in Di’s life. …Even if the two of us were on bad terms,” she added, praying to God that that wouldn’t be the case no matter what.

“I…. Fine. You’re right. It’s your life. And his. And her’s.” Frankie shrugged, resigning herself to the fact that Calliope wasn’t going to listen to her.

“It is our life, Frankie. We’re just trying to do what best for us as a… as a kind of family. We’re not talking about marriage or kids or anything. We haven’t even said ‘I love you,’ yet, but… this is what’s working. And I’m happy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way in my life. And he’s happy, I’m pretty sure, and he makes Diona happy too, which is the most important thing to me. I’m being careful but…. I don’t want to sabotage this either,” she stated, signalling that the discussion was officially over.

“OK, OK. I understand. I will stop butting in where I’m not needed.”

“…I still need you, you donut. But I don’t need you to doubt me anymore, either. Sixteen year old Calliope and twenty-four year old Calliope aren’t the same people.”

Frankie looked over at her sister somewhat incredulously. That was the last thing she’d expected her to say. But maybe she had a point. Maybe she did still see that sixteen year old girl when she looked at her sister. That was kind of how it worked for parents and their kids, right? And when they were younger, Frankie was more of a mother than a big sister to Calliope, giving her the love and nurturing that she desperately needed, helping her to get her life together. “I’ll butt in less… forcefully, then,” she corrected. And finally, for the first time since the conversation took this turn, they smiled at each other, small, somewhat weary smiles that nonetheless showed their mutual understanding of each other. “So, now, I’m taking you home, right? You have to get out of that dress and they’ll be wondering where you are in the morning.”

“No, it’s OK. I want to stay here tonight. I’ll just tell them we decided to spend some time together after work. It’s not totally untrue,” she reasoned, giving a half-shrug. “I’ll send him a text.”

Frankie’s smile became a little brighter with the news that Cal was staying. “That works,” she said simply. “I’m gonna go bed. I have to be at the Shoppe early tomorrow, so.” She went to leave the bedroom, making it all the way to the door but as her hand got to the doorknob, she stopped and turned around. “Lily. …Thank you. For, for before.”

Calliope hesitated before saying, “You’re welcome. …And thank you. For being concerned and everything.”

With one last smile, Frankie bid her sister goodnight and left the room, feeling like the weight of the world was finally off her shoulders.

#submission #rp #accepted #acceptance

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jandjsalmon · 6 years

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Thank you for tagging my, my dear @kristinadavidovna

last (1-5)

drink - milk (from the jug - eek!)

phone call - I sent a ‘Messenger Call’ to my daughter to tell her dinner was ready... she’s in her room.

text msg - I sent a text to Scott last night asking him if he was going to the Stake Dance (it’s a monthly church youth dance thing)... he was in his room.

song you listened to - "I Wonder Why” by Dion and the Belmonts (it’s on my Spotify Playlist for my new fic)

time you cried - Coco. Second rewatch. Still makes me sob like a baby.

ever..? (6-11) dated someone twice - the rule in my house growing up was that I had to say yes when a guy asked me out - three times - before I could say no. I went on a date with a dork named Sterling three times and he knew better than to ask me out a fourth. I will not be making my daughter abide by the same rule.

ever kissed someone and regretted it - yes. Evan. I’ve only kissed two boys (one of which is Jay) and I wish I’d waited. Ugh.

been cheated on - No.

lost some1 special - yes

been depressed - no

gotten drunk/thrown up - neither - I don’t drink. But a girl spilled her beer on our heads at a Blink 182 Concert once... fav colors (12-14) mossy green.

in the last yr have you.. (15-21) made new friends/ mutuals - yep. Love you Buggies.

fallen out of love - no.

laughed until you cried - Definitely.

found out some1 was talking about you - yes.

met some1 who changed you - yes.

kissed some1 on your FB friends’ list - lol yes. (Jay is on my friend list)

general (22-51) how many of your FB friends do you know irl - like 95% of them. I have some really good online friends with whom I’ve never met irl - but we’re close enough that we’re FB friends now.

you have any pets - a spazzy Cairns Terrier named Lacie.

do you want to change your name - no.

what did you do for your prev. birthday - Jay and I went to Phantom of the Opera. It was lovely.

what time did you wake up today - 8:05am to get ready for church.

what were you doing @ midnight last night - sleeping.

what is something you can’t wait for - Oahu in April??

what’re you listening to atm - my neighbour using the snow blower on our driveways.

have you ever talked to a person named Tom - yes. (several Toms)

something that’s getting on your nerves - my kid not using his OxyPads. Stupid gross 14 year olds.

most visited site - Tumblr and Ao3

hair colour - Browny Gold colour.

long/ short hair - long. Just below my shoulders.

do you have a crush on some1 - well - like an online crush... not sure if I’ve been too subtle about who that is though. Hrm.

what do you like abt yourself - I’m really great - so I like a lot about myself. I’m positive and fun and loud and encouraging and smart (and humble). lol.

want any piercings - I have three already and never wear earrings though I have contemplated nipple piercings - I’m just a class A wuss.

blood type - A+ (but I agree - weird question, dude!)

nicknames - Jandy and Jess and my grandpa called me Jessie.

relationship status - married to a hot Mountie. (18 years! Woot Woot!)

zodiac - leo - but on the cusp with Virgo.

pronoun(s) - She/Her

fav tv/ on-air shows - Riverdale.

tattoos? - none. Though if I weren’t a wuss - I’d would have a Star of David and a CTR shield on my ankles.

rightie or leftie - righty

ever had surgery - tonsils, and 3 c-sections.

piercings - two on my left ear. one on my right.

sports - I’m a hockey fan. But I enjoy watching football and rugby too.

vacation - the last one I went on was to Mexico... we’re planning one to Hawaii in April.

trainers - I have a blue pair of Sketchers that get the job done. more general (52-58) eating - we just are dinner. Pork chops. Was delicious.

drinking - water bottle - just about done my first litre of the day. Ugh.

i’m about to watch - Star Trek... we’re working our way through Voyager (for the 30th time) and I’m a HUGE Janeway fan. <3

waiting for - kids to go to bed.

want - it to stop snowing.

get married - I am. 18 years.

career - well, I work in Municipal Government. Not what I went to school to do. But it’s a job. I give non-profits money and write grants to get our County money.

which is better (59-65) hugs/kisses - hugs (but it’s close)

lips/eyes - eyes

shorter/taller - TALL. I’m 5′5″ and my husband is 6′4.5″ and the best thing in the world is that he can put his chin on my head.

older/younger - older.

nice arms/ stomach - I like arms, hands and shoulders. *swoon*

hookup/relationship - relationship. Always.

troublemaker/hesitant - I married the official “good guy” - he kept his friends from making terrible decisions that would end them up in jail. He’s always been a babysitter. have you ever (66-75) kissed a stranger - no. Just two blokes. I knew both of them.

drank hard liquor - no. I don’t drink.

lost glasses - I JUST lost my favourite pair on the boat this summer. Boo!

turned someone down - yes.

sex on 1st date - no. (I’ve only had sex with one person)

broken a heart - yes.

had your heart broken - yes.

been arrested - my brother and husband are cops... so no.

cried when some1 died - yes.

fallen for a friend - yes.

do you believe in.. (76-81) yourself - yes

miracles - yes

love @ first sight - no

santa clause - no.

kiss on a 1st date - no.

angels - eh... not the way you’re thinking. No halos and harps.

other (82-85) best friend’s name - Jay (if we’re going with a non-husband irl bestie - Andrea)

eye color - bue with a yellow circle in the middle

fav movie - Stardust, Eurotrip, and Schindler’s List

fav actor - Tom Hanks

This was a beast lol. I’m gonna tag: @setapartghoul @southsidesserpent @popcornblondie98 @goodbye-juliet @trashforriverdale @lele6212

#tagged games

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spideyxchelle · 7 years

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part 2 of WORST DATE HEADCANONS??!

looools. so, you all LOVE closure. all of my headcanons that just don’t really end, that are more up to your discretion on what happens after are not your faves, are they, fam? its okay. i had to write a second part anyway because @peterjonesparker told me I had to and she owns my ass. also, this second part is totally based off of @pocohantas01 tags on the first part.

[part 1]

MJ and Peter manage to not date through all of college. which is baffling to their friends and family but not so weird to them BECAUSE THE OFFICIAL STATEMENT IS THAT THEY ARE JUST BEST FRIENDS.

and, after years and years of this, pretty much everyone just rolls their eyes and takes them, sort of, at their word. but because Peter and MJ are platonic bros or whatever they weird fuck they are, all of their friends and family never try to subject anyone that doesn’t know them to Peter/MJ weirdness. that means none of their friends ever set them up with people to date, Tony doesn’t bother arguing when MJ sleeps in Peter’s room at the compound and everyone just lets that weirdness live as long as it doesn’t interfere in their personal lives.

until it interferes.

because Ned is getting married. he proposed to Betty about two years after college graduation and all of their friends are freakin’ thrilled. because, see Peter and MJ, when you like someone you tell them, then date them, and then maybe get engaged if marriage jives with your life plans.

obviously Peter is Ned’s best man. and MJ is in Betty’s bridal party because the two girls know each other really well because of Peter and Ned and even have become friends of their own accord. Betty’s maid of honor is Liz Toomes which makes Betty nervous. because GOSH, Liz and Peter have a history.

when she tries to express her concern, Ned kisses her head and says bluntly, “it isn’t gonna be awkward because Peter is gonna be all over MJ.” Betty laughs, and then says just as plainly, “I’m not giving Peter or MJ a plus one. I’m not gonna subject some poor sap to being their dates when they don’t even care.” “I’ve stopped trying to understand what they’re doing.” Betty wraps her arms around her fiance’s neck, “I’m serious, Ned. no dates. I don’t need that drama at my wedding.”

so, because Betty is the boss, when the invites go out Peter and MJ’s invites do not have plus ones.

Peter immediately facetimes MJ and when her face pops up, he flashes the invite at her, “did you not get a plus-one?” she shakes her head, “nope.” “what the hell, Ned?” “are you, uh, seeing anyone that you want to take?” and her voice has that awkward tone that it sometimes gets when she asks him about his dating life. and the pause that happens after her question is equally as loaded. peter clears his throat, “no. just, uh, you know, it’d be nice to have the option.” “sure sure,” she says quick, “options are good.” “yep.” “cool.” “cool.” “well, I gotta-.” “-go. yeah, me too.”

when they corner Ned at game night two weeks later, he sighs, “i’m not gonna give either of you a plus one. this is my wedding.” “what does that even mean,” MJ snarls. “just,” Ned squeaks, “you two aren’t good at dating other people when the other is around. and I don’t want people storming out of my wedding because they’re feeling ignored. by either of you.” Peter’s jaw drops, “that’s not…how could you….how dare….we’re just friends, Ned.” Ned rolls his eyes, “whatever, sure you are. but its my wedding so its my rules.” MJ thumps Ned in his stupid head, “I’m gonna tell Betty that you’re being dumb.” Ned rubs his head, “go ahead. it was Betty’s idea.”

both Peter and MJ freeze. even though they’re barely a foot apart they can’t look at each other. it’s weird. NED MADE IT WEIRD. not them over the last several years of mutual dumbness, oh no. and so Ned takes pity on the both of them and offers, “why don’t you guys just go together…..as friends.”

Peter gnaws on the corner of his mouth and glances at MJ, “we could, uh, do that. it’s practical.” “easy on parking, too,” MJ doesn’t dare look at him. “yea, parking,” Peter echoes.

and Ned is O V E R it. OVER IT. so he rolls his eyes and leaves them to stand in their awkward corner of awkward where they don’t look or talk to each other.

the next few months are pretty much business as usual save a few wedding things. as best man, Peter has to set up the bachelor party and he has lots of shit he volunteers to help do to help Betty, but he and MJ are friends as usual. and MJ has to go to bridal stuff. she’s not the maid of honor, but she’s in the party so she’s present. and, btw, hanging out with Liz is awesome. they get along so well. always did.

although, Liz does have some questions about her and Peter. and when MJ gives her the official statement, Liz goes to ask Betty and her best friend groans and gives a flippant, “don’t ask.” and that’s that.

three days before the wedding, Peter takes Ned up to the compound as a special bachelor event for just the two of them. some of the other groomsmen don’t know about Spider-man things. so this is just for the two of them. besides, Peter wants to share something special between just him and Ned.

as they sit on the roof of the compound a beer in their hands, Ned sighs, “this was great, man. thanks.” they clink glasses and Peter says, “to you, Ned. may you and Betty be awesome and be best friends forever.” Ned looks down the barrel of his glass and summons the courage to say, “you know that’s all it is, right? being with somebody.” Peter cocks his head, “what do you mean?” “dating someone. marrying someone. it’s just being best friends with someone. with the added awesomeness of sex. you could have that, you know. with MJ.”

and Peter very unceremoniously spits his beer out over the side of the roof. as he composes himself, he curses, “what the hell, Ned?” “I’m just…I’M GETTING MARRIED, MAN. I’m feeling the love. and I want you to be happy. and don’t bullshit me. I know she makes you happy.” “we’re just friends.” “no,” Ned laughs, “no you’re so not.”

Peter puts his beer down and wrings his hands anxiously, “what do you want me to say, Ned? like, what the fuck does this accomplish?” “maybe nothing. but I’ve said it now. it’s out there.”

and the problem with things being OUT THERE is that Peter can’t not think about it.

the day of the wedding, he walks Liz Toomes down the aisle, but before he walks down the aisle, he sees MJ do it first. the maid of honor and best man go last before the bride. and she laughs at something stupid Ned’s college roommate says. and his heart freakin’ lurches.

he looks at the floor to get himself together and then Liz is giving him the cue to walk down the aisle with her. he offers his arm and a silly smile. and they walk.

and MJ is already up at the front and he only has eyes for her. and, this continues all through the actual ceremony. like, Betty is beautiful and he’s so stupidly happy for Ned but holy shit MJ. she’s his best friend.

official statement.

then everyone in the church is applauding and Peter’s trance is broken. he’s brought back to reality as Ned and Betty kiss. and he howls and hoots with the rest of them.

at the reception, he finds MJ without having to try very hard. he may have spidersenses but he also has MJ senses. its just a thing.

she’s talking to Liz at one of the appetizer stands. and Peter clears his throat, interrupting their conversation. both girls snap their heads to him. and Peter is struck by the way time kind of works out. the past. and, hopefully, the future.

“mind if I steal her, Liz?” Peter asks. Liz SMIIIIRKS and gives MJ a small push toward Peter, “be my guest.”

MJ grumbles about being manhandled but then they’re in the middle of the dance floor and Peter awkwardly puts his arms around MJ’s waist. she tentatively wraps her arms around his neck. the song feels like Peter’s heartbeat. rushing a little too fast but a touch romantic.

they avoid each other’s eyes. and the room is just dark enough that Peter feels like a blush is fine. besides, he’s a 25 year old man. he can blush is he damn well pleases.

they don’t talk for most of the song. until the piano ramps. and MJ whispers, “I don’t want things to change.” Peter nods, “I, uh, know what you mean. but what do you want me to do, MJ?” even though she’s in his arms, she’s a million miles away, “pretend.” “i’ve been pretending for years,” peter flows honestly, “I’m exhausted.”

MJ tries to wiggle free, “I have to go…” “where?” he holds her firm, “why are you running from this?” “i’m scared,” her bottom lip goes. “me too,” he agrees, and leans up just slightly so they can rest their foreheads against each others, “i’m terrified. you terrify me, Michelle Jones.” “that was what I was going for,” she tries to joke, but it falls flat.

“I gotta say it,” he rushes out before she can argue, “I gotta say it. just once. and then we never have to talk about it again. but I gotta say it.” “Peter-” “I am so stupidly in love with you. my whole life is better because you’re in it. and I could be wrong, I could be kidding myself, but I think you feel the same way.”

her silence is the worst thirty seconds of his life. “you’re not wrong,” is what she finally settles on. she puts her finger over his mouth, to stop him from speaking, “but can we figure this all out tomorrow?” he kisses her finger, gentle and loving, “whenever you’re ready.”

#headcanon ask

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omgnsfwisnsfw-blog · 5 years

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NSFW #03: Not Like You

“Say hey, EWC Faithful! Welcome to beautiful sunny California! Check it out, we saved so much cash on the way here that we splurged and rented us a beach house!” “And I’m sleeping on the couch.” The camera swiveled around momentarily to focus on a neat little cottage on the beach with a teal paint job and pink trim that boasted one bedroom, one bathroom, a common room, a kitchen, and a back deck (and an adorable, if perhaps slightly overdone, mermaid-based decor theme). A cute little place, really, even if the presence of three people relegated one to the fold-out. Still, a small private stretch of beach was included, and that’s what was arguably the most important part. After lingering a second on the house, the camera swooped back around to focus on NSFW themselves, both smartly clad in swim trunks and NSFW tank tops, sunglasses, and in Bishop’s case, swim floaties. Their noses were coated in Zinka sunscreen, orange and green respectively. There was a sandwich board planted in the sand before them, but it was covered up by a official new, hot for the summer, NSFW beach towel. “I told him he didn’t fuckin’ have to, but he insisted. THAT is the kind of stand-up fuckin’ guy your TV Champion is, Faithful. Eat your hearts out.” “It would be unforward of me considering.” “Yeah I know, but the couch’s a fold out and we TOTALLY coulda… anyway. We ain’t talkin’ bout the ever-lively TV Championship scene today. Today, we are gonna start off by talkin’ a little bit about our beloved Tag Team division in general. And we even made a nice clear visual aid.” Grabbing the towel- only $15.99 plus S&H, order now and get a free pair of NSFW arm floaties AND a set of five fidget spinners!- Mike whipped it off in a dramatic flourish, revealing its bold text to the world. The camera lingered long enough for it to be easily read. Finally pulling back to them, Mike planted the phone onto a tripod and backed up, standing as always at her partner’s right hand side, arms folded and a small smirk on her face. John tapped his fingers on top of the wooden board. “We share this with our colleagues with only the intention of inspiration. But maybe being called to the carpet evokes different king of feeling.” John looked over to Mike with a fond expression as if saying ‘Take it from here.’ “If this pisses you guys off? Good. Maybe it’ll light a goddamn fire under your asses. We said from the moment we came here that we wanna spark a revolution. A fuckin’ Renaissance. Bring this division back from the dead. WORK WITH US, PEOPLE. We want to make this division worth seeing. Shit, we want our tag division to be SO good that we get butts in seats just to see us.” She made a circular gesture, indicating she meant ‘us’ as a collective, the tag division entire, before dropping her hand back to her side and sighing. “Come on, guys. Cooperate.” The TV champ nodded in agreement. “Last week was the epitome of what the tag team division should be. Two teams. Lutter. Kross. Mike and I still think you’re a poor judge of character. But Kross and you showed just how deep your convictions lie. You are professional wrestling through and through, and NSFW was wrong. Let’s bring about this Renaissance together.” Mike grinned widely, bouncing back on the heels of her bare feet slightly. “Y’know, there’s this country song that goes ‘Lovin’ You Is Fun’. Well, Nos, I gotta say thatFightin’ You Is Fun, and I really hope we get to do it again sometime.” “But that was last week. The new Assistant General Manager has a sense of humor seemingly...” His voice trailed off. He seemed lost in thought or he lost what he was about to say. “And...there are no rules this time.” Mike looked up at him, her brow furrowing in mild concern. She didn’t say anything, but her expression was clearly asking if he was alright. “And... our opponents, no strangers to each other are…complicit…” “They’re a couple of crazy fucks, is what they are. I mean, Church, what do you even make of, as that cranky-ass lazy dickhole Bennet would say, these sons-a-bitches? I mean, I’m pretty sure at least one of them is seriously fuckin’ unhinged.” John looked at her again, this time with an expression Mike had actually not seen in months at least in relation to professional wrestling. “They seem nice.” Holding up a finger, Mike walked over to the phone and turned the camera off for the time being, and turning back to their partner, finally gave voice to their concern. “Bud, are you okay? You haven’t said that in ages and you seem kinda… I dunno. Off? Talk to me. Tell me what’s up.” John took off his shades and looked directly at them. “I don’t know what you mean.” Mike took theirs off as well, looking back at him with a bit of a frown, shaking their head. “That ain’t gonna work, Church. I know you too good by now.” John averted his eyes from her gaze. “Well.” “And when’s the last time you corrected my goddamn grammar? Look. Real fucking talk. We’re supposed to trust each other. If there’s a problem I wanna help, you KNOW that. So. Please. If something’s wrong, would you please tell me? We’ll work it out. We can do anything.” Mike comes closer, reaching out and resting a hand on his arm. They were allowed to do this now (a level of mutual comfort they felt more grateful for than they could say) but they knew it’d get him to focus on them. They looked up, dark green eyes almost pleading with him to be open with them. John sighed. “I’m not like you. Mike. I told you that I’d uphold the integrity of this sport by staying in the bounds of the rules. But I’m not David. I’m not Natalie. But it looks good. It looks like I’m taking a stand.” And he shook his head. He struggled to find his words and Mike lightly squeezed his forearm. “But it’s something you don’t say for public consumption. Because it’s like chum in the water. I’m no righteous defender of the sport. I’m...afraid. Afraid of the mindset it takes to go beyond what has been given to me.” John raised brought up hands, palms facing towards him. “That fear makes me a coward. Unable to act. Confirming the criticisms. Getting in your way. Causing you harm. Last time this came up, I watched you stagger about afterwards unable to tell me what state we were in. That was my inaction. My cowardice.” Mike listened. They may have the reputation of a loudmouth, but whenever John spoke, Mike always gave him their full attention, no matter what else they may be doing. They listened until he was finished. Then they wrapped her arms around him, squeezing and staying there a moment before stepping back. “Don’t ever say that. You are not a coward, John, you hear me? You’re… shit. You’re the most fucking noble, upright person I’ve ever met. Anything that happens to me, don’t blame yourself for that. I get myself in a shitton of trouble on my own. So yeah. You’re not like anybody else. So what? I LIKE that you aren’t like me. I like that you’re like you. And if you don’t want to use weapons? You don’t have to. I’m hardcore enough for both of us.” They gave a slightly wavering little ‘heh’, probably to lighten the mood a bit. “Besides. You’ve bent the rules a little before. In Oakland.” He shuffled his feet in the sand. “I don’t remember such a thing.” His tone was coy. So perhaps a good sign. “You did though. You jumped off the top. It was fuckin’ awesome. I’ll show you later but it was totally sweet.” “Just kind of in the moment. Never did that before.” “You should do that kind of thing more often, y’know, if you feel okay with it. Hell, maybe in this match. You don’t gotta break the rules if you don’t want, but maybe you could do stuff like that. Skirt ‘em a little, you know? And leave the fuckin’ screaming murder shit to me.” John nodded, smiling faintly but earnestly. Mike smiled back, glanced toward the camera and, with a gesture of approval on their partner’s part, resumed recording. “Woo! Sorry about the weird cut there, Faithful, minor tech difficulties.” “Actually I forgot my line.” “We have lines?” She snickered, tucking a windblown strand of hair back under her Mets cap. “Anyway. Our competition this week. Young Sinatra and Anthony Grunge. One would be crooner and one guy crazier than a sack full of rabid goddamn ferrets.” “I don’t think this Sinatra sings at all.” “He don’t? Aw, that sucks, I wanted to hear him do ‘AIn’t That A Kick In The Head.’” “He is however another Messiah.” Mike shook her head, tisking in obvious disappointment. “Now, this is a real fuckin’ shame. See, this Young Sinatra guy ain’t unknown to us. He came into our FighterTalk thread and said how big of a fan he was, and I was like, ‘awww, what a sweet kid!’ Then I heard him talk. And holy fucking christ he’s ANOTHER one of these anti-hardcore crusaders with a God complex. Who probably thinks I’m some kind of abomination unto the holy ring or whatever. Listen up, Lil’ Blue Eyes. I don’t go waving this around cuz believe it or not I got an ounce of humbleness in me about it, but do you know who taught me? Harley Fucking Race, the King himself. And if that ain’t pure enough a pedigree to satisfy your uppity fuckin’ sensibilities, I don’t know what is. So I will do whatever the shit I want in this match and if you got somethin’ to say to me about it? Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut or me an’ my Louisville Slugger’ll shut it for you.” Her grin had gained a somewhat rabid quality. John’s mouth was slightly agape at the outburst, but he felt the truth in this words and quickly stepped in line with a reaffirming nod. “That’s… right. Mike and me had hopes for you. Would you believe that David Scott, of all people, enjoys riding Space Mountain? That guy?” Mike blinked and tried (and failed) to say something a few times, obviously trying not to fall over and roll into the Pacific in a fit of laughter. “What? What did I say?” “Nothing! Nothing, keep going, you’re good.” She held a hand up to her face, barely concealing a ‘Woooo!’ John shook his head and continued. “You and me. We share something in common. In the physical sense. We’re on the outside looking in. However, you’re representing that division in an ironic fashion. I assure you that this match will be anything but make-believe. Leave your moralizing at the curtain. You don’t do what you do because you’re taking a grand stance against depravity. You have no real aspirations to make any changes that benefit anyone but yourself. You want to remake the world in your image. Your opposition is not the Madison brothers. It is not any other‘team’ in our division.” John stepped forward and looked directly in the camera as opposed to his normal past the camera gaze.. “You will stand face to face with the constant of the tag team division. Understand this. What you will say and what you will assume of us will be what we’ve heard since day one. You will try to pick us apart. You will try to drive a wedge in our partnership by playing to simple human nature. If you do that: you don’t get us.” “So. With Snooty No Hardcore Guy addressed, let’s move on, shall we? Anthony Grunge. Now here we got a complete opposite dude. No classy classic piano tickling and smooth crooning here, now we got a raw, smashmouth, in your face cat from right here in L.A., so he’s gonna have a nice hometown advantage going on. Which is very cool. Problem is, like I noted before… this guy is absolutely fucking nuts.” “That unpredictability has perhaps brought him unpredictable results. It would be arrogant of us to be so dismissive of a man who’s proclivities lead him to have discussions with a cactus. This man gives everything no matter the circumstances and I know that he will not be intimidated to the ones he has been given here. Mike. Two months ago we stood before Collateral Damage, an unknown entity, and in their hearts they knew that a team with no experience would never have a chance against them. We cannot make the same mistake that they did.” Mike nodded. She knew better as well. “You’re good, Grunge. And you KNOW you’re good. You showed everybody just how good you fucking were, us included. And y’know what? You may be a crazy SOB, but nobody ever called me the picture’a sanity neither. I like the cut of your jib, dude. You proved to a stuck up purist like Sinatra that you can do it traditional, but now? You’re gonna be in the ring with ME. And I wanna see what you got. Turn up the crazy and bring it hard, cuz I’ve wanted to face someone like you since I fuckin’ got here.” John stood back beside his partner and for a second appearance in a row, he wrapped his arm around Mike’s shoulders. “But despite the non-standard rules of this match, two men who are ideologically opposed will be forced to work together against one team. We are not the tag team champions. We have defeated the tag team champions. And we are not the number one contenders but we don’t haphazardly cost each other matches either.” “They ain’t just ‘ideologically opposed’, bud. They outright fuckin’ HATE each other. And that? That above everything else, the skill and the snootiness and the hardcore and the crazy, is what’s gonna get us the win here. Cuz Church and me? We love each other. We’ve gone up and down the road, done everything together, we train together all the time. We know each other in an’ out, back an’ frontways. Our sync is perfect. I bet he even knows what I’m thinking right now.” She made a show of putting on a ‘hard thinking’ expression. “No electric toothbrush.” “If all goes well, partner. If all goes well.” Mike looked up at the cottage, perhaps at someone just visible through the window, and grins slyly. “So. Grunge, Sinatra, we will see you on Monday. If you don’t kill each other first. As for us? We’ve worked our butts off and now it’s time for some play. Cuz what’s the point of coming all the way to the beach and Not Surfing the Fucking Waves?” Beaming, she yanked a pair of boogie boards out of the sand, handing her partner one. There’s also a third, but it stays put. Waving, she strode over to the phone and ended the recording. Soon as the stuff from their promo was stashed away- the tripod, the sandwich board, the excess of self-branded merch- NSFW was joined by the third person sharing their little beachside cottage for their two weeks in California. Mike found it happily ironic. They had left her at her house on one end of the country only to join her on the other side. It was like a rainbow with a pot of gold at both ends. As the Southern Belle stepped out onto the deck and joined her friends on the sand, Mike couldn’t help but give her an appreciative look over- she looked damn good in a bikini and, as with her ring gear, coral was absolutely Natalie’s color. But she didn’t spend too long ogling: whipping off her tank top to reveal a flesh tone swim top underneath, she grabbed her board and, hollering for her friends to follow, ran into the sea full tilt. It’d been far too long since either Mike or John had seen the ocean, and they were reveling in it. It was Natalie that came back to shore first, dropping her boogie board onto the sand before taking a seat on it. A couple weeks of recovery time had done wonders for her condition, the bruises along her ribs and backs mostly gone. She was still healing, though, and the combination of salt water and sun on her skin felt like it was helping matters. Or maybe that was just the company talking. A short time passed before she’s joined by Mike, who plops her board next to Natalie’s and sits down as well, a smile on her face. The constant breeze smelled fresh and salty, and the sun was beginning to come down, glittering on the ocean. “I’m so freakin’ glad you came, Miss Natalie. You… heh. You look a lot better. Not that you looked bad before or nothin’! Just, y’know. Less banged up. Like you feel better.” Knocking her wet bangs out of her face, she looked over to the other woman with as sweet a smile as the rough brawler could possibly manage. Returning that smile, the blond nodded. “I do feel better, thanks. Don’t tell him I said so, but Mister Morgan was right in that I needed to take it easy for a couple of weeks.” That smile turned into a playful sort of grin as Natalie leaned over, nudging Mike’s shoulder with her own. A third boogie board plopped itself beside them. John, soaking wet, disheveled, and short of breath, plopped down as well. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that again.” “Aw, really? I could do that all day. I feel like a mermaid. A badass mermaid with a freakin’ shark tail and awesome tattoos. I’d ask if we could move here if I didn’t like our house so much. And if it wouldn’t put us clear on the other side of the country from you, Miss Nat.” She laughed, curling her toes in the sand. The ocean was starting to take on the pink and orange hues of the sky. “And when he says ‘take it easy’, does he mean, like, no strenuous activity? At all? None?” That smile was getting awfully cheeky… though at least this time, the blond was prepared to fire back. “If he did, do you think I would’ve packed my swimsuit?” “Mmm, point. A’course, if you’re allowed to go swimming and boarding…” That smile only got more coy. John looked past Mike in the middle and right at Natalie. “I don’t think that’s the kind of strenuous activity that they are talking about.” “Well clearly--wait. ‘They’?” Leaning forward a little, the Southern Belle looked at both members of NSFW with a brow raised. “Forgive me, but I’m a little confused. Why did you call Mike ‘they’?” His reply was direct. “Because that is who Mike is, Natalie.” Mike, for her part, froze. Her grip dug into the sides of her board, leaving impressions in the foam. Her heart started pounding, and the pleasantly warm evening suddenly felt ice cold.Oh god. Please don’t let it happen again. I couldn’t handle it if it did. Don’t freak out. Please don’t freak out… “I… understand, I think.” Leaning over, Natalie’s head rested on Mike’s shoulder, a sandy arm looping around the small of their back before she continued. “I mean, if you’ve got your preferences that’s fine… and I’ll do my best to use them. But it doesn’t really matter to me, y’know? So long as you’re you, Mike.” “R...really? You don’t think it’s weird? I mean nobody knows but… but John. I’m. I’m not really a girl, b-but I’m not a guy a’neither…” “You’re Mike.” “And really, wanting to be called ‘they’ is normal compared to the one guy I used to wrestle with that insisted that he was really a giant albino lizard like Godzilla, or the Cult of Yorlik… or, well, most of my time in Hardkore World.” There was a quiet pause for just a moment. And then, Mike laughed. It was not only a response to hearing something funny, but a sound of pure relief. They lean their cheek against Natalie’s wet hair, arm curling around her back in turn. However, their other hand reaches in the other direction, wrapping around her partner’s wrist. The closest they could get to holding his hand. “Hey. Just so you know? You guys are the fucking best.”

#archive

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xerantic · 6 years

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How I Run My Blog

Tagged by: @intermissum

Tagging: any

SPEED: Usually very slow. Faster with less involved, crackier threads. Glacial with novella-sized or important/serious/official threads. I have serious trouble with depression and anxiety, and avoidance is one of my main (poor) coping methods. Plus lots of days, I get awful mental blocks, and my head is foggy. Other days, I psych myself out and negative self-talk myself into the ground. Sometimes I avoid threads forever, even the ones I love, and I’m sorry for that.

REPLIES: I...tend to drop threads seemingly randomly at times, for mostly the reasons mentioned in “SPEED”. Sorry... I do love my threads and interactions; I feel really bad about this.

STARTERS: Tag me in a starter; I love being tagged in like...anything except callouts? LOL. You’re free to do so even if we’re not mutuals, but I might choose not to respond if it’s a subject or muse I feel I can’t work well with. You don’t have to, but asking first to plot it out if it’s something involved is probably wise! All of the starter memes in my [memes] tag are open indefinitely; feel free to pick an old one! I also (have just recently started to) tag certain IC posts as [open to RP]. Same principle applies!

INBOX: Anybody can send me anything. I try to reply to every ask I get, even if it takes me a while. IM scares me, and I might avoid it sporadically, no offense intended.

SELECTIVITY: Interaction on my blog is open to everybody except those who don’t function according to my rules (namely people who participate in callout culture, discourse, and fandom hate). However, I can be selective with who I follow (even though being mutuals isn’t a requirement). I get kinda picky about English skills and sensible characterization... OCs with quirks/backstories that make no sense... Muns with a lot of moral judgmental language against things they dislike in their rules... I literally can’t look at duplicates of my muse, sorry; I spiral into epic insecurity and fear of being replaced/worthless.

WISHLIST: Right now, I just wish I could feel happy and secure and valuable and loved and accepted here. But part of that depends on my own state of mind, so... Uh, in terms of actual content, it would be cool if people wanted to RP in my UA Tenko verse? And I dunno, in general I just want to interact with lots of people more. More of the League, maybe some Overhaul, definitely lots of Dabi, All Mights, and heroes would be cool... If I could just un-petrify myself and unfreeze my brain.

HONEST NOTE: I’m not in a very good place, to be honest. I’ve lost a lot of trust and faith in this fandom and in my place within it. I’m gonna be real--it’s the callouts and the judgmental behavior towards things people write/roleplay that others disagree with. It’s disgusting, this exclusionary behavior and groupthink.

I feel like I don’t know who or if there’s anybody I can trust here. The people who agree with me are probably better than me at being silent about it, lest they face repercussions. I’m truly paranoid that at some point, I’m going to piss one of you off, or you’ll find something you don’t like about me or something you disagree with, and then you’re going to twist my words and actions into a callout post, smear my reputation, and turn followers and innocent bystanders against me. I can’t be myself; I feel like I’m constantly walking on eggshells, wondering if people actually hate me. If I’m this close to somebody turning against me and attacking in self-righteous self-important justification.

I just want to roleplay what I enjoy roleplaying. Why can’t we all just do that? Not fail spectacularly to be tolerant and empathetic. Not turn the fandom into a goddamn crusade. Thank you for listening. Please don’t lynch me. I really want to be liked and appreciated, but my soul is dying feeling like I have to sacrifice being myself for acceptance.

#Sorry it turned out like this but I was tagged and felt the need to be honest #I feel that need too much TBH #negativity #opinions #OOC #I'm gonna hate this post just like I've hated most of the things I've posted lately

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athousandmilez-blog · 7 years

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Tagging: Miles Sterling & Nick Vaughn.

Timeframe: Evening of June 29, 2017.

Location: A reception hall.

General Notes: Miles and Nick sneak off at Miles’ mother’s wedding to indirectly mess with his new stepdad. NSFW. Missing like the entire first half.

Nick tried to suppress a laugh at the dig about Helen, just in case Miles wasn't joking. "Speaking of Helen --- how are her and your Dad?" He looked over at him curiously. "Are they here?" He didn't want to stir up drama; he was just mildly curious and tended to get caught up in small talk. "We are pretty expensive." He agreed, nodding quickly. "Adding you to the mix will just make her go bankrupt." He teased before smiling to himself. "Guess there is.... Operation Steal Gregs Car is officially in progress now." As they continued to walk on, he glanced at Miles in interest. "What were the themes? Was it good?" He asked, before speaking again, not giving Miles time to respond. "We'll have to find it so we can watch it. Don't get me wrong, I love Scout but I just don't think she appreciates your love of Cupcake Wars like I do." He said, seriously. "Shit man --- maybe. Only I hope I don't drive as bad as I do in GTA. Or else this might be our first and last car ride together." He paused, grabbing the keys. "Anyway, buckle up!" He grinned as he unlocked the car and slid his way into the drivers seat. "Your wish is my command." He looked around the car as he brainstormed ideas before brightening up a little and putting the key in the ignition to turn the radio on. "He's never gonna know what hit him." He busied himself with pressing random buttons on the control panel as he spoke. "Tell me what music he hates so I can reprogram his set channels." It sounded cooler in his head, but if it were him, that would drive him crazy. "But that's just the beginning... reach into my jacket pocket. I have a surprise for us."

Miles shook his head. "Nah, they're not here. They're good, though, I guess. I dunno. I haven't talked to Dad in a little while." Miles sort of wished all this had happened when he was younger so he didn't have to deal with all the angst of it now. But it is what it is. "So then we agree it is most certainly not worth it for me to marry your mom. Glad we had this talk." He'd certainly missed these strange conversations with Nick. No one else ever made it seem so natural. "It was for, like, a wedding. It was pretty good. Not the best episode but I think we made a silent vow to watch every single one together. You're right, though. Scout just doesn't get it." Miles laughed at that, settling into the passenger seat. This truly was wild. He'd never even been in Greg's car before, and he didn't think he ever would. But here he was. "He hates pretty much anything that's not country so that should be easy." He started to do just that, changing the preset stations on Greg's car radio when Nick mentioned something in his pocket. He looked up at him curiously. Usually he'd be more wary about something like this, but he was pretty sure Nick didn't have anything that would kill him. Curiosity got the best of him, anyway, and before he could ask he did as he was told, invading Nick's personal space to dig through his pocket. He didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't weed. Miles wished he could have seen the look on his own face right then. "Dude," was all he managed at first, and then he laughed. "You should have mentioned this an hour ago!"

Nick nodded at the newfound information. "Ah, man. Well hopefully you get to talk to him soon. Hope he's doing okay." Nick didn't mean to bring up a sore subject, if it was one. Bringing up Miles' birth father while he was being cursed with a stepfather he couldn't stand probably wasn't the greatest conversation starter. "You're officially ruled out as far as my future potential stepdads go. Congratulations. Crossing your name off the list ASAP." Joking with Miles always came easy, despite the awkwardness recent events had caused between them. They always seemed to snap back eventually. "The worst episode of cupcake wars is still better than the best episode of anything else." That probably didn't even make sense, and held no real truth. Still, though, he didn't expect anyone to read too deeply into the things he said sometimes. "So hard rap and top pop hits." He stated and grinned at the radio console as he punched buttons. "I got you." He shifted to allow Miles room to sift through his pocket, still messing with the radio stations all the awhile. Truthfully, he could have just handed Miles the weed, but that would have ruined the surprise. Finally satisfied with his work, Nick hit one of the now re-programmed station buttons and leaned back in the drivers seat. "I considered it, but I figured if I mentioned it in front of your family they'd try to take it for themselves." He joked, reaching into his other pocket and pulling out a lighter. "---You ever smoked before?"

Miles shrugged. "He's fine. It's not like that. We're both just busy and not at the top of each other's priority list." It was true. He wasn't hurt by it or anything. "Good to know. I removed your name from my potential stepdad list long ago. Now you've kind of lost your chance anyway, though." Nick just wasn't fast enough. "That is so true. I don't know why we started watching that show but I'm really glad we did. It's a blessing. I think it brings us closer together." Really, he couldn't pinpoint when or why it had happened, but somehow they'd developed a mutual obsession with Cupcake Wars, and Miles wouldn't have it any other way. "Perfect. I doubt he even knows how to change it back." Miles smiled smugly as he watched Nick change the stations. He finally settled on a station playing current hits that Miles thought he was too good for (but wasn't), and he examined the weed in his hands while Nick spoke. "No doubt in my mind about that. So good call." He glanced over at him at the question, raising an eyebrow. "I think you know the answer to that." But he'd answer it anyway. "I haven't. I've watched it happen enough in my life, though." It wasn't that he was against it or anything. It just never appealed to him as something to seek out, and it wasn't often available to him. Right now, though, he didn't see any reason not to. "I'm afraid I'm gonna cough up a lung, though. Maybe I'll puke on the floor. Greg would love that."

Nick made a noise of understanding and nodded. "Pretty easy to get caught up in your own life." He commented, and he was just about to make a jab at him and say he knew Miles was good at doing that. But this was not the time nor place --- and what slight (unjustified) bitterness Nick still felt toward him he was trying to push aside and work passed. "Unfortunately, I don't think I'm your Moms type to begin with. As much as it hurts me to admit." He joked, remembering back to all the times he joked about trying to date her years ago. He thought he was so funny when he was in High School. And he still did, but he was still low key embarrassed of his teenage self. Not that he was all that different now, but... still. "It's because we both automatically knew it was gonna be good. It's our show, dude. Watching it alone is ever the same as watching it with you." He spoke, earnestly, because it was the truth. "Probably not. Hey, maybe he'll develop a decent taste in music. So really we could be doing him a favor here." He grinned as he turned his head to look at his friend. "I had a feeling you'd say that." He admitted. Miles never was one to to really partake in such things, which he never minded. He figured he'd offer tonight though. After everything, Nick thought he might need it. "I guarantee you won't cough up a lung. Your tonsils, maybe. Maybe some blood. But no lungs. You get to keep those." He laughed again and reached out to take the already rolled joint from him. "It's going to be harsh, so you're going to cough a lot. So if it's too much for you, let me know." He instructed carefully. "I'm going to light it --- and all you have to do is suck and hold it in for a second." He paused ."But first let's roll up all the windows... we don't want anything getting out."

Miles nodded. "Right. Not a big deal or anything. I stopped being pissed at him a while ago." Being angry about it wasn't going to do Miles any good, anyway. "Yeah, I'd have to agree with you there. She tends not to go for super skinny dudes who are, you know, friends with her son." Miles couldn't help but laugh at that. It was honestly ridiculous to even entertain the idea of Nick and his mother ever becoming a thing, but somehow it always came up. "You're right. It's good shit. It's actually not that great a show on its own. Our commentary is the only thing that makes it bearable sometimes," he admitted, because it was true. It really wasn't all they made it out to be. The show itself was mediocre at best most times. But they got super into it, and honestly, it [I]did[/I] often get pretty intense. Miles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right." He couldn't see that happening. Miles sighed, shaking his head at Nick's words. "Oh God. I'm not, like, actually gonna cough up blood or anything, am I?" he asked as he eyed the joined now back in Nick's hand. He honestly couldn't tell if he'd been joking or not. He nodded at that, using the ancient hand crank to manually roll up the windows, because of course Greg didn't have automatic windows. "I'm a little nervous, man."

Miles nodded. "Right. Not a big deal or anything. I stopped being pissed at him a while ago." Being angry about it wasn't going to do Miles any good, anyway. "Yeah, I'd have to agree with you there. She tends not to go for super skinny dudes who are, you know, friends with her son." Miles couldn't help but laugh at that. It was honestly ridiculous to even entertain the idea of Nick and his mother ever becoming a thing, but somehow it always came up. "You're right. It's good shit. It's actually not that great a show on its own. Our commentary is the only thing that makes it bearable sometimes," he admitted, because it was true. It really wasn't all they made it out to be. The show itself was mediocre at best most times. But they got super into it, and honestly, it did often get pretty intense. Miles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right." He couldn't see that happening. Miles sighed, shaking his head at Nick's words. "Oh God. I'm not, like, actually gonna cough up blood or anything, am I?" he asked as he eyed the joint now back in Nick's hand. He honestly couldn't tell if he'd been joking or not. He nodded at that, using the ancient hand crank to manually roll up the windows, because of course Greg didn't have automatic windows. "I'm a little nervous, man."

Nick nodded at the comment, deciding not to press it any further. He laughed at Miles' comment about his mom, and shook his head in faux disappointment. "I'm heartbroken. I'd say she's missing out, but that'd be a lie. We all know it's the other way around." He joked. Miles should know by now he wasn't serious about it. Especially after all that had happened lately. Rolling his eyes good naturedly as he rolled up the window on the drivers side. A grin crossed his lips at the question. "No, dumbass. The weed doesn't contain glass particles." He said teasingly before softening up some. "Hey, it'll be okay. It's everyone's first time sometime. And I'll be right here if you don't like it or it's too much." He reminded him before lifting the lighter to spark the end of the joint. "Do you want the first hit, or would you rather me show you first?"

Miles rolled his eyes. "Yes, Nick, we all know that." His mom totally was a catch. He wasn't wrong there. Miles put his hand to his chest, pretending to be hurt by the insult. "Ouch. No need for name-calling here." He knew Nick was only kidding, of course, and that was only confirmed when he lightened up and actually started to ease Miles' fears about the whole thing. It really wasn't a big deal, but honestly...he was just a weenie. "Okay. Don't get mad if I cough on you or something." He watched with wide eyes as Nick lit the joint. He licked his lips as he watched, then reached out to take it from him. "I'll try." He was feeling adventurous, clearly. It felt foreign in his hand, and he eyed it for a few moments before bringing it up to place it between his lips. He tried not too think too hard as he inhaled. Immediately, as Nick had warned him, it overwhelmed him. He started coughing almost instantly. As he tried to catch his breath, letting out a few more coughs to clear his throat, he thrust the joint back toward Nick. "How the fuck is this supposed to be enjoyable?" he asked, his voice rough from the strain of all the coughing.

Nick snorted at the response. They'd always joked around like this, and he could admit to himself that he missed it. He missed hanging out with him. "Eh, you'll get over it." He shrugged. "You cough on me, I'll sneeze on you so it's fair, alright?" He handed over the joint to him silently, quirking an eyebrow as Miles said he'd go first. Maybe he should have instructed him or something, but before he knew it his friend was inhaling the smoke. As he started to choke, he darted a hand out to clap down on his shoulder, slightly concerned even if he knew he'd be okay. "Give it a minute." He coaxed as he took the joint back and brought it to his lips with his free hand, holding it in his lungs for a brief moment before letting it exhale. "You're gonna feel it, trust me. You'll barely even notice the sore throat."

Miles figured that was fair enough. He hardly even noticed Nick take a hit because he did so quickly and without a sound other than his inhaling and exhaling. Miles wondered how long it took to get to that point, but he wasn't going to ask. Plus, if he spoke again, he'd probably start coughing. He wasn't really feeling any different, but he wasn't sure how long it was supposed to take. "What's it supposed to feel like?" he asked. He barely even noticed Nick's hand still on his shoulder. "Should I try it again or give it a minute?' He was honestly completely clueless here. He thought he'd know by watching other people, but clearly that wasn't the case.

Nick knew Miles was new at this, but he couldn't help but grin slightly at the reaction. What a proud moment. His best friend was smoking weird for the first time. Nick wasn't sure if he should feel bad for corrupting him or be glad that he tried it with him first. So he settled on just being mildly amused. "Don't try it again. I don't wanna overwhelm you. Give it time to settle." He instructed as he angled his body to face him a little better. "It's supposed to feel like... I don't know. Like you're completely relaxed. And your head feels fuzzy, but you still feel good." It was the sort of thing that he'd just have to experience himself. "Are you okay?"

Miles nodded. That made enough sense to him. "Okay." He'd thought it was going to be an instantaneous thing, but it seemed to be a little more gradual. He figured he was starting to feel a little bit different after a few moments, especially as Nick explained what it was supposed to be like. He was pretty sure he was feeling a little more relaxed. But that could have all just been in his head. "Yeah, I'm okay. I...think I feel different." He sighed. Though he couldn't see the excitement in the whole thing, he was at least glad he had Nick with him. "Thanks for this. I guess it'll be kinda cool to at least say I tried it."

Nick laughed slightly in response. "Hey, even if it's not your thing, now you know." He had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't Miles' thing, judging from the look on his face. "You're welcome. Plus, if Greg knew we were doing this, it'd piss him off so bad. So that makes it all worth it, right?" He let the joint dangle from his other hand, his right still resting on Miles' shoulder absentmindedly. His words died off and it fell silent for a moment before he spoke again, voice quieter than before. "Are you really okay? About the wedding?"

Miles shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." He didn't think he'd be doing this again. At least, he wouldn't go seeking it out. Maybe if Nick brought it up again in the future. He tended to make stupid decisions with Nick. "That's true. And that's the beauty of all of this, right?" he asked, gesturing around him to the car they were still sitting in. Greg would probably somehow find out. At that, Miles turned to look at him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about this. Not now. He shook his head, turning away. "I'm fine, Nick. Please, just--don't make this something it doesn't need to be." He appreciated the concern, though. Nick was the only person who ever really gave a shit what he was thinking. He just didn't have the energy right now to get into it. He turned back to meet Nick's eyes again. "Are you okay?"

Nick nodded in agreement. "Right. I've said it before, but I'll say it again. I'm always up for some harmless revenge." He smiled at Miles briefly before the conversation melded into something more serious. "I'm sorry ---" He cut himself off, going quiet as he contemplated what to say. He didn't want to make him talk about something he wasn't comfortable with. "I'm not trying to. I just... you know you can talk to me, right?" He looked up to meet Miles' eyes. "You can talk to me." He repeated, not knowing what else to say without pushing too hard. But then Miles was turning it back on him, and it startled him. "I'm fine." He said automatically, not quite sure if that was true or not, but this conversation wasn't about him. "I wouldn't be here with you if I weren't fine."

Miles sighed. Here they went again, getting way too real without actually meaning to. "Don't apologize." Nick kept on reiterating that he could talk to him, but Miles wasn't sure if that was true. Talking about things led to bad choices with them, mostly because neither of them really knew how to handle their feelings -- whatever those feelings were. "I know," Miles replied anyway. The way Nick spoke to him made Miles doubt that, somehow. He thought that maybe being with him was hurting rather than helping. It was for Miles, at least; he was still feeling confused, despite being happy to be reunited with his best friend. "You sure about that?" he asked quietly, raising an eyebrow at him. "I think we'd be somewhere else entirely if you were fine." Probably inside right now, dancing together, or something people who could be honest with themselves did. But they were here instead, playing games. They were good at that.

Nick knew he should stop talking. He knew saying too much or letting get the topic get too serious was a bad idea. But he couldn't seem to help himself; he wanted Miles to know he still cared. At the remark, Nick let the hand resting on Miles' shoulder fall off. "You know that's not fair." His voice was quiet, and he tried not to show that it actually stung. Because he knew he was right. His chest feeling heavy, he exhaled slowly before saying something he probably really shouldn't. "I'm here because I missed you."

Miles knew he probably shouldn't have said it. But so far, dancing around certain subjects had gotten them absolutely nowhere. Even if he didn't say it out loud, Miles would still be thinking it, so he figured he'd rather just come right out and say it in the name of being honest with him. "I'm not...saying you should come out or anything like that. That's not what I meant," he clarified. "But you're not fine." He was taken back by that. No matter how many times he heard it, it still hit him just as hard. He'd missed him too, so much, after only a week, and that meant something to him. "Does it even make a difference if I say I missed you too?"

Nick felt his chest constrict and his shoulders tense as Miles spoke. Guilt, regret, and panic seemed to settle in all at once. "Well, what do you want me to say?" He remarked, unable to hold himself back. "No, Miles, I'm not fine. I'm actually pretty shitty?" He stubbed the joint out on the surface next to the cup holder, letting it fall there after it was no longer lit. He'd clean it up later, maybe. "Would that make you feel better? Would that help anything?" He shouldn't feel this bad. He shouldn't have missed him this much. And he most definitely should not be talking as freely as he was now. "You know I'm not fine." He swallowed, trying to keep at least some of the emotion at bay. "But you also know that I care." He shook his head to himself. "It always makes a difference." Even if it shouldn't.

Miles looked down at his lap, because he didn't know where else to look while he gathered his thoughts. He wasn't meaning to put Nick on the spot like this, but Miles of all people wasn't going to judge him for who he was, and they'd be stupid to pretend that nothing was still going on here. "I want you to be able to be honest with yourself even if you can't with everyone else. It's me, Nick. Things aren't just going to go back to normal between us like magic and you know it." He'd say it was the weed making him suddenly want to bring all of this back into the light, but really the urge to had never gone away. Nick was right; Miles knew that he cared. And Nick knew that he cared just as much. Miles adjusted himself in his seat to face Nick completely. He lowered his eyes to look at Nick's lips briefly before blinking back up to his eyes. "What are you thinking right now?"

Nick wished that he could be completely honest, just like he wished he could kiss him when he wanted and not care who saw or what anybody thought. He wished he could want him without feeling guilty, when he should be wishing that they could go back to being just normal friends. Nick hadn't wanted things to get out of control, but they already were. "I know that." His throat felt thick and that's all he could think to say. "But talking only makes us worse. I don't want us to get worse." He didn't miss how Miles' eyes dropped down to his lips. He found himself doing the same, his words (not for the first time) contradicting his actions. "Something I really shouldn't." He said, a bitter sort of laugh escaping him as he shook his head. Internally debating with himself, his desires quickly won over rational thought. Talking made things worse, but this would make things even more complicated than they already were. But it was hard when he was so close, when Nick knew he wanted him too. It was too hard. So despite knowing this was a mistake, Nick reached out to clasp his hand over Miles' shoulder once again. Only this time, it was to steady himself as he leaned forward to press his lips against his best friend's.

Miles shook his head. "I don't see how it can get any worse than lying about the way we feel." His kept his voice low, as if this was all some big secret. It wasn't, and it never was; they just forced it to be that way. At least now, Nick was being honest with him. Miles knew what he meant before he even took action. But as always, the hand on his shoulder and Nick's face suddenly coming toward his own made his heart beat faster, even if he'd been expecting it to some extent. Without thinking twice about it, Miles' own hand came up to the back of Nick's neck, almost like he was afraid that he'd pull away if Miles didn't keep him there. They were going to regret this because everything was going to go to shit again. No matter how many times they discussed how stupid it was, they'd always find a way to make it weird again. But for right now, Miles would just pretend that that wasn't the inevitable outcome.

Nick wanted to agree with him, but he couldn't help but feel like it could and would get worse. But right now, at that moment, he was willing to ignore the consequences. "Sometimes it's easier to lie than it is to deal with the truth." He didn't mean to say that, but at least that was the truth. Words were quickly forgotten as their lips met and Miles' hand was grasping onto the back of his neck. He leaned in closer, the hand sliding from Miles' shoulder to the side of his neck. He didn't want to let go. The seat was separating them, but he tried his best to bring Miles as close as he could, responding with more urgency now that the kiss was reciprocated.

Miles didn't even want to think about what Nick had said. He was right, of course it was easier. But that didn't mean they should. Similarly, it was much easier to forget what was going to happen after this was over than to think rationally about it. So that's just what Miles did, casting those thoughts of what was to come aside, focusing solely on Nick and how good it felt to be close to him like this again. He wanted to climb over to his side already just to be closer, but the size of the car made that kind of impossible. He had to think on his feet because he didn't want this to have to end so fast. He pulled away just enough to look at Nick's face. "You're not gonna run out on me because of work again, are you?" he teased, and then he smiled. Before Nick could even respond, Miles reached into his pocket to get his phone. "Gimme a second — you should get rid of the joint," he said, a bit absentmindedly. He didn't want anything to distract them this time, so he figured background music would help them drown out everything else. If everything was going to go to shit after this, they might as well make the absolute most of it.

Nick nearly let a noise of disappointment escape him as Miles' pulled away, even though the kiss had to end sometime. He looked at him, almost confused, until he understood why he'd pulled away. It wasn't to end it, thank god, because Nick didn't want to have to stop until they had to. "No, if they call me I'm quitting." He said, joking, but also just a smidgen serious. "Good idea. I don't want to leave it for Greg to find. He might like the surprise." He saw him take out his phone, and Nick wasn't entirely sure what was happening, but he wanted to find out. After dusting the ashes away with his sleeve and grabbing the joint, Nick stepped out of the car and took a deep breath. After collecting himself, he made sure the joint was outside before safely tucking it in his pants pocket. Turning back to the car, he noticed Miles was now in the backseat. Now is the time where he should back out and leave. But he was already in too deep. Opening the car door, he joined his best friend in the back, turning to face him as he did so. "The evidence is gone. We're good." He wanted to kiss him again already, but he didn't want to be too eager. "So...what's up?"

Miles scrolled through his phone, barely even noticing that his hands were shaking slightly. Whether it was from nervousness or excitement he didn't know, but it was likely a combination of both. Nick had that effect on him. He finally found the playlist he was looking for, one that he and Nick had made together one day, composed entirely of songs they both loved and some that one insisted be on there anyway. He connected his phone to the aux cord and let the playlist start on shuffle. He tried not to think about the fact that a New Kids on the Block song was the first to play as he climbed into the backseat. There was much more room back there, and a lot less of a chance for something to go wrong (despite how wrong this all was already). He watched Nick join him in the back, and he refrained from rolling his eyes at Nick's words. He didn't respond at first, instead moving to remove his jacket. He decided in that very moment that tuxes had way too many layers. "Stop talking," Miles told him before reaching for the collar of Nick's shirt to bring their lips together again. He'd be damned if he was going to let him stall and return to their back and forth bullshit again.

Nick faintly registered the familiar song on in the background, and realized that's what Miles had been doing while he was outside. It was hardly surprising, honestly. If he'd thought of it he would have turned some music on too. He supposed it was only appropriate that this was their playlist. And one of their mutual favorite songs. All of that was an afterthought as Miles began to remove his shirt before bringing him in for a kiss, though. Nick didn't need to be told twice. Unable to help but smile against the others lips briefly, his hands made work of removing his own shirt and jacket. Nick deepened the kiss, leaning into him while he unbuttoned everything as quickly as he could. They were definitely going to make the most of their time.

Miles had been right, which sort of really pleased him; the music really was helping. It filled the space around them, making it much easier to get lost in each other without having to worry about anything outside of what was happening between the two of them in that very moment. Miles took it upon himself to finish Nick's job for him, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and discarding it on the floor of the car. He'd never truly been able to appreciate Nick's body because that was creepy as a friend and this weird more-than-friends thing didn't often leave room for that, so he took a moment to break the kiss and take it all in. It really was no wonder Miles couldn't help himself around him. He leaned back in the seat, trying to adjust the way they were to fit in the small space. It was hard, but definitely doable. He reached up with one hand to thread through Nick's hair, pulling him back down to kiss him again. This was certainly faster than he'd expected, but if they stopped to think about it, it would just get worse.

Nick happily helped Miles in the removal of his own clothes, shrugging his shirt off to the floor of the car before busying himself with trying to remove Miles’ shirt. Fingers slightly fumbling in his haste (and somewhere in his mind he might just be a little nervous too), Nick didn’t move away from their kiss until he had too. He took a sharp intake of breath as he noticed Miles looking at him. And while Nick was used to people staring at his naked body almost daily, none of those people had ever been Miles. And while sometimes the staring made him uncomfortable, this time he didn’t. It only spurred him on further; quickly working to pull his friends shirt all the way off to join his own on the floor. It was a little dark, but he still took a moment to admire the others body. He slid his hands over his chest and down to his stomach — his eyes following along until something on Miles’ arm caught his eye. Raising an eyebrow in surprised, he halted all movement in order to zero in on the picture on his friends skin. “Miles. What the hell is that on your arm?” He couldn’t help the amusement from seeping into his tone, despite the situation.

Miles noticed the way Nick’s breath hitched at Miles’ gazing, and he thought maybe he’d made it weird. But then Nick was doing the same to him and Miles had a similar reaction. He realized it was just as new to Nick as it was to him. Nick’s hands running along his skin made Miles shiver. His eyes darted down to watch his movement. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Nick spoke, and Miles let it out as he raised his head to look at him again. Shit. He’d completely forgotten about that. Miles looked at his own arm where the offending tattoo was, and he frowned. “Oh yeah, that — that’s my tattoo,” he stated simply. He licked his lips, meeting Nick’s eyes again. “It’s, um, it’s Scout riding a skateboard.” He hadn’t expected to have to explain it in this exact situation, but here he was. “I was really drunk. I got it with your brother.” He sighed. “I’m not really in the mood to talk about what I did with your brother right now, though.” He emphasized his point by running his hands down along Nick’s back, pulling him close and pressing his own body up against him. He lowered his voice, getting as close to Nick’s ear as he could. “I don’t actually want to talk about anything at all.”

Nick cast his gaze completely on Miles’ arm tattoo as the other male explained himself. He couldn’t help the small grin that made its way onto his face. Subconsciously, he moved his hand up to rest his fingers on top of the tattoo, tracing it as he inspected it briefly. “Nice.” He let out a breathless sort of laugh as Miles pulled him closer to press against him. “Lets not talk about my brother at all right now.” He almost laughed, but instead he leaned down to trail kisses from Miles’ neck to collarbone. “Then don’t.” He murmured against the skin, nipping gently while his hands resumed making their way down his body. “

Miles resisted the urge to swat Nick’s hand away, because he already knew it was there, so he supposed he’d let him get all his curiosity about it out now so they wouldn’t have to talk about it again later. Hopefully he’d just forget about it. Nick’s skin felt hot against his own. Miles’ eyes closed of their own accord, overwhelmed by the overall situation: Nick’s lips and teeth grazing his skin, his hands burning Miles’ skin, and most of all, no promise of either of them stopping anytime soon. Miles didn’t know whether he should worry about that, but he wasn’t about to say anything. He wanted this; he wanted Nick. His hands found the sides of Nick’s face so that he could pull him back up to kiss him again. He knew they should stop, that they should get out of the car and pretend this never happened. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

Nick was undeniably amused by the tattoo, but in all truth he wasn’t about to say more about it at that moment. He wasn’t sure what he was doing; what they were doing. But he did know he wanted to continue. That he didn’t want to stop until they had to, or until Miles changed his mind. He leaned back in to reciprocate the kiss as his friend grabbed him by the face. His hands drifted up Miles’ chest for a moment to cup his face instinctively before he started to deepen the kiss. Deciding to try his luck, his hands drifted their way back down until they were resting on Miles’ belt, thumbs resting against his stomach, he waited until he had some go ahead to go further. As lost in the moment as he was, this was still Miles. He didn’t want to move too fast and have them awkwardly fight with each other.

Miles originally wasn’t sure where this was going to go, assuming that something would happen to stop them before things went too far like the past two times, but this time there were no distractions and he was feeling sort of dizzy because of it. This was real and all of the alarms in his head were going off, telling him this was a bad idea, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. It was Nick, and fuck if Miles had ever been able to just walk away from him. He broke the kiss, his breath catching in his throats when he realized Nick’s hands had made their way all the way down to his belt. He glanced down, feeling his heart beginning to pound in his chest, because form here there was no turning back. But he could think of no immediate reason to say no, and everything inside of him compelled him to look back up at Nick and nod silently, his arms looping around his neck, sliding a hand up into his hair once again. He’d always liked Nick’s hair, if he were being honest, so naturally he’d take this opportunity to mess it up a little.

Nick knew this was a mistake. He knew this was wrong and that he should just stop before they completely went too far. But being this close to him, with no distractions and after weeks of on and off again fighting, was addicting. At least right now he could admit to himself how much he wanted him. Right now he wasn’t thinking about the rest of the world, or the consequences. Right now, he just wanted to pretend like he was normal and that he could do this; that he could be what Miles wanted. Feeling his heart stutter in his chest at Miles’ signal to continue, Nick paused for a moment to lean down for another kiss while his hands slowly undid his belt and slid off and onto the floor. He let out a soft grunt of approval as Miles’ hands found his hair. He’d always liked his hair being messed with. The fact that it was Miles’ who was doing it was strange simply because it was new. But he wasn’t complaining about it. Cautiously, one of Nick’s hands brushed over the front of his pants, testing the waters before his hand found his zipper.

Miles expected there to be some level of hesitance within himself, even reluctance, but he found that nothing else seemed to matter now. Nothing but how Nick felt on top of him, how good it felt to be close to him in this way. He could feel all sense of self control slipping away with each passing moment. He was desperate to be closer, holding Nick’s head in place to deepen the kiss, and he let a low groan escape despite Nick’s cautious movements. He raised his hips eagerly, finding it much harder to hold back now. He pulled away from the kiss to let out a shaky breath. "Nick.” It sounded more like a sigh, but it reminded him that this truly was Nick here on top of him, kissing him and touching him in the back of his own new stepdad’s car. It was insane. He still couldn’t really believe it. Miles’ lips found Nick’s neck instead, his kisses sloppy and not very well placed, but he resolved to blame it on the drinks he’d had and the fact that he’d never wanted someone so much in his entire life. He supposed Nick wouldn’t mind.

Nick was quickly losing himself in every kiss and every touch. His heart was racing, and if he weren’t so immersed in what was currently happening he’d feel pathetic. He was used to feeling a lot of different ways during sex. Some bad and some good. But it was never quite like this. And they hadn’t even really done much of anything. Not yet. Hearing Miles say his name encouraged him enough to begin to tug the other’s slacks down his legs carefully. Eyes running over his body, Nick’s right hand found itself splayed across his friends stomach, fingertips slowly inching downwards, toying with the waist band of his underwear before beginning to bravely slide his hand under the fabric. The sloppy kisses against his neck only made him want this more, and he hummed under his breath at the sensation before angling his head for another kiss.

Miles could feel Nick's heart beating at a similar pace as his own. It was a comfort to know that Nick was probably thinking a lot of the same things right now, though Miles would kill to know exactly what was going through his mind. If it was similar to Miles' own nervousness and excitement and slight fear all rolled into one, though, he knew that he wanted to help him somehow, and the only way he could think to do that was by slowly brushing one of his hands all the way up Nick's arm and ending up in his shoulder, leaving it there, mirroring how Nick had been a comfort to him just a short time ago — only then they hadn't been half naked and going at it, but still. Miles paused when his clothes continued to come off, and let his head fall back the moment he felt Nick's hand on him, finally. "Fuck, Nick," he blurted without thinking about it. It was weird to him, how it could be so strange but so right at the same time, because he trusted Nick with everything he had, and yet he was still nervous, unlike how he'd been with Lily or anyone else he'd ever encountered. Nick was different in every sense of the word. Miles groaned approvingly before raising his head to meet Nick's lips once again. Still unable to contain his downright desperation, Miles pushed his hips up once again into his hand. One hand remained firmly clasped on Nick's shoulder while the other came to rest on his waist. He hooked his finger through a belt loop on Nick's pants and tugged on them a bit. He wasn't about to be the only one falling apart at the seams here.

Nick tried to relax as Miles' hand ran up to his shoulder. This was only Miles, he tried to tell himself. But therein lied the problem. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't be nervous. But if it were anyone else, he wouldn't want this as bad. The way his friend said his name definitely spurred him on, though, and he couldn't help but eagerly press their lips together again. Nick's fingers wrapped around Miles' loosely at first, a million things racing through his head. He was touching his best friends dick, and he was sure there was about a thousand things wrong with that concept, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He let out a small groan in return when he felt Miles' tug on his belt. And with his free hand, he reached down to assist him, trying to take off his own belt the best he could.

Miles didn't know if he should be more calm about the fact that this was someone he knew so well. It was a lot more nerve wracking instead, which was strange in a way. But he didn't really want to spend too much time thinking about it. He tried to focus on removing Nick's belt like he wanted to, but there were a hundred things going through his mind at once. He rocked his hips up steadily while attempting not to break the kiss. He finally removed his hand from Nick's shoulder so both could focus on the belt and throwing it to the floor with the rest of their discarded clothes. This was so wrong on so many levels, he kept thinking to himself, but that didn't stop him from pulling away from the kiss to look down and unbutton and unzip Nick's pants with fumbling hands, moving faster than his brain could keep up. He shoved them down as far as he could from his position, desperation taking over completely. He tugged on Nick's arm so that he could make space to pull Nick's body flush against his again instead. Wanting to keep his hands busy, he had one on the small of Nick's back, pulling him closer as he rocked up into him again, his other hand grabbing the first thing he could find: Nick's hand. He found himself entwining their fingers without thinking twice about it, raising their hands up above his head to rest on the seat under him. It just felt like something he should do, so he did it, because clearly there was no time for rational thinking here.

Nick felt like everything was happening too fast and too slow at the same time. He could feel Miles' hands all over his body; leaving his skin feeling hot. The second the other man helped him push down his jeans and pressed closer to him, he was gone. His fingers curled around Miles' own without a second thought, leaving their hands clasped on the seat below them. With his other hand, he slid it out from under Miles' underwear only to try to push them down. Chest heaving slightly, he leaned back to look at his friend for just a moment, before completely making up his mind and leaning back down to trail kisses downward. There was no going back now.

Miles felt...different when it was over. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it wasn't particularly good, either. He just felt weird. Off. He took a few moments to catch his breath before it really hit him what had just happened, that he'd slept with his best friend in the back of a car — his stepdad's car, at that. He didn't know what to make of it. Before he knew it, he and Nick had silently moved away from each other and were working on sorting through their previously removed clothes. Miles was already trying to block it out, all the things he had said. He couldn't tell if his face was just flushed because of the physical exertion or the fact that he'd said "You don't know how many times I've thought about this" in Nick's ear at some point. He shuddered at the thought, suddenly moving way quicker to shove his arms through the sleeves of his shirt and fix all the buttons. He glanced over at Nick, who suddenly felt miles apart from him, and swallowed, his dry throat stinging as he did. "I-I don't..." He wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but he didn't know where to start. "We should get back inside," he finally blurted without even thinking about it. He immediately felt stupid for saying it, though, because going back in together looking like this would surely raise questions. And besides, Miles couldn't even look him in the eye.

Nick knew it hadn't been a mistake to go through with it. He knew it wasn't a mistake that he'd wanted him. But when it was over, it sure felt like one. The whole thing felt good; better than he thought he'd felt in a long time. And afterward, they'd even had a few short lived moments of peace. But they were just that. Short lived. Soon, they were both pulling on their clothes in complete silence. Nick couldn't bring himself to even look at him, and judging by the coldness he felt from the others end, he knew Miles was probably having the same issue. "You go." He cleared his threat and tried to sound natural, even though he wasn't fooling anybody. "I have to go home. Check on Murphy." It was a complete excuse, and Nick felt dirty for it. Guilty. But what else was he supposed to do? Go inside and pretend like nothing ever happened? He couldn't do that, because both of them knew something did happen. And this time, it wouldn't be as easy to brush off as a kiss was. "I'll see you later though, yeah?" He said numbly, buttoning up his shirt. He almost wanted to laugh at how pathetic his words sounded to his own ears. Almost. "You can tell me how the reception was."

Miles's blush deepened and he looked back down again, fixing his pants and trying to look presentable enough to go back inside. He knew Nick was right that he should go. This had been a bad choice and now they were going to have to face it — but this was the worst time in the world, because Miles still had an entire wedding reception to sit through. He picked up his jacket and slung it over his arm instead of putting it on, then leaned into the front seat to retrieve his phone and Greg's keys. He didn't know what else to say. He kept avoiding eye contact while he opened the door and climbed out. The air hit him and was almost dizzying after being stuck in the car for so long. At Nick's statement about seeing him later, Miles froze. He didn't even know how to respond to that. When would he actually see him again? "Okay," was all he said in response, because there was nothing else he could say. All he knew now was that he wanted to be away from Nick, as bad as that sounded, at least for now. He wanted extended family members to buy him drinks until he couldn't see straight, and he wanted to try and be happy for his mom. He looked at Nick, thinking he should say something else but not quite knowing what, before simply turning on his heel and heading back toward the building to go inside. He had to put on a show now, had to face his mom on her special day, feeling something indescribable the whole time. He didn't regret it. But he still knew they shouldn't have done it.

Nick could feel the tension between them grow with every passing moment. While just moments ago, they'd been on the same page, now it's like they were strangers. Briefly, he felt Miles look at him, but he couldn't quite bring himself to look back. Nodding, mostly to himself, he finished dressing and stepped out of the car. His own car keys and other items were still stuffed deep in his pockets, and he had to rifle around until he found his keys, but as soon as he did he was off in search of his own car. He had no reason to stay.

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