#woods makes jokes about hooking up with dot tho and mason wants to murder him

[nanobyting]

“ you kissed my cheek. and then i knew, that you could be homesick for people, too. “

Mason x Mel

love me tender. || “sincerely yours” prompts (accepting)

He never considered himself a romantic. He knew what romance was - saw it in the movies, read about it in books, watched his parents kiss each other goodbye in the mornings and at night after dinner before his father went to bed first.

He was there when Marion introduced her first boyfriend at an age where he couldn’t fathom kissing a girl willingly to contract cooties. Was there when she cried about the break up only to sneak out with another boy a week later. And so on, and so on.

He met Marshall down the line, who promised to take care of Marion and to do right by her.

“He’s a veteran like you and dad,” Marion had said, as if that would get him to like her new boyfriend of the month.

“No,” Alex scoffed, “no, he isn’t. You wouldn’t be able to stand him if he was anything like us, Marion. What did he do? Logistics? Was he in the Navy? His hands are too soft. Your hands are rougher than his.”

Dot burst out laughing at that, though she quickly shut up when Marion shot her a look.

“I’m not saying I don’t like him,” Alex sighed, “what does it matter if I do or don’t? You’re just gonna be too stubborn to listen if I say I don’t like him.”

“It matters because I want you to get along with him.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll get along with a guy who’s hardly been in the thick of it and doesn’t even keep a gun under his pillow.”

“Alex!”

“Alex is barely even home. I bet next time he comes back, Marshall isn’t even gonna be around,” Dot teased.

Alex grinned and nudged Dot with his elbow. “Yeah, it’ll be some guy named Mitchell next.”

“Oh, you weren’t here!” Dot cackled. ”There already was a Mitchell!”

Alex had to stop Marion from strangling Dot to death for that one, especially if their Dad caught them - he’d surely give them a whacking despite them already being in their twenties.

He was there to beat up the boys who’d flip Dot’s skirt in grade school, snarl and throw a fit at the adults who insisted the boys only did that because they liked his little sister. Because he knew romance and it was bringing flowers and holding hands while walking down the sidewalk - not making the girl you like cry and feel humiliated.

“They’re bullies,” Alex explained to Dot time and time again. “They’re bullies. They don’t do that because they like you. They shouldn’t do that to you. You got that? If they make you feel bad, you give them a good beating. If they’re bigger than you, then you can come get me. You know I’m the strongest.”

Dot laughed through her tears and took his words to heart.

That’s when she started getting in trouble at school for getting into fights with boys.

“God, Dot, you’re making it worse!” Marion had yelled after Dot came home from another fight with that Jenkins kid. She was picking the snow and twigs out of Dot’s hair. “Why can’t you just ignore them? Don’t you know that boys just want to see a reaction out of you?”

“Ignore them?” Alex laughed incredulously. “Are you kidding me? She’s being harassed and you’re telling her to just take it? What the hell did dad teach us? We don’t just stand by and let things happen! You have to take a stand for yourself!”

“Alex! You’re a boy! Dot is just a girl, she can’t -”

“What does that have to do with anything, Marion?! Dot is the victim here and you’re acting like it’s her fault!”

“I’m not saying it’s her fault, but they’re harassing her because she keeps fighting back!”

“Fuck that!”

“Alex!”

For all his nagging about the relationships his sisters had with boys, he wasn’t exactly the best either. He became known as a heart breaker in his town just because he was willing to say yes to any girl brave enough to ask him out - and only made it worse when he was kind to them and offered small gestures of affection. A hand on their hip to hold them close, a kiss against their temple, a flower every once in a while.

They’d lose their interest soon enough when they realized they were never going to be his top priority. He liked them enough, but he could never say that he loved them.

We’re just kids, he’d think, what do we know about love?

It was always the same story when he’d tell them that he planned on signing up to join the Marines the moment he could.

“You’re going to leave me?” Lucy asked with tears in her eyes. They were always crying. He remembers every one of their names despite how many girls he’s been with.

The more it happened, the angrier he got. “You already knew that I was joining the Marines, Lucy.”

“I just didn’t think that you’d -”

“That I’d what? Not go? Because of you? Lucy, this is something I’ve thought about ever since I was a kid and my country needs me.”

Soldiers were attractive, but apparently dating one was too much to bear. Not many would be willing to wait at home while their boyfriends or husbands were on the other side of the world fighting for their lives, hardly ever coming back the same way they were before they left. He remembers the stress that took a toll on his mother when his father was away, and the simultaneous relief and grief that he was alive but injured. 

“Mom’s crying again,” he said with a hitch in his throat. Only ten and still a momma’s boy since his daddy wasn’t around for years.

“Just leave her be,” Marion said, on the verge of tears herself as they watched Little Dot scribble in her little notebook with broken crayons. “Dad’s locked himself up in their room again.”

“He’s just in their room. Why is she crying?”

“Because she thinks he isn’t gonna come out.”

“What do you mean?”

“His bum leg isn’t the only thing that’s hurt, is all.”

It became worse after Vorkuta. He just couldn’t get himself to trust anybody. He could pick up a girl at a bar and they’d use each other to relieve their stress, but that’s where it ended.

He didn’t have the energy to try and deal with a girl crying just because she couldn’t handle it when his mind would be somewhere else. When he’d close himself off and just wanted to be left alone. It was too much baggage and civilians would never understand it. Hell, not even Frank would fully understand the torture he’s been through. But at least Frank knew how to deal with him.

He never thought too much about a life outside of the military, having sworn it to his country. Semper Fidelis. Always faithful. Always loyal. He figured he’d die for his country down the line or pass away peacefully in his sleep when he was old, in the home he grew up in. He couldn’t really imagine himself with a family of his own - a lovely wife, adorable kids, and the white picket fence. Couldn’t even think about getting a dog to welcome him home because he was barely home.

Always overseas with blood staining his hands and his fingers itching for more. He felt like an animal some days, a cold machine the other - what they had in common was a penchant for killing. It always started with a rumble in his chest that would spread outward, it’d make him growl and the tips of his fingers curl, and his mind would buzz and flash with red numbers. 

He couldn’t in good conscience leave a girl to deal with himself when he could barely keep himself in check at his worst moments.

Mel held his shaking hands and he looked up at her with wide eyes. She stared back at him and didn’t say anything as she squeezed his hands to steady them and quell the trembling.

                                                              Ascension

                   Dr            7                   15                ago                  12               vich

              Kra                   19            vch            7              enko                25             6

They must’ve been sitting like that for at least an hour.

                 13                S            t       6               e   i              7                        n e         r

                    All                15                     Must            14               ?                 0

She watched him patiently until his eyes would clear up, until he came back to himself, laughing and intertwining their fingers then. He could feel himself gravitating towards her, feel his heart pulling him to her as if he wanted to envelop her into him.

“What were you thinking about?” She asked suddenly, making him stiffen. But she leaned up to whisper in his ear and he tilted his head even more so her lips would brush against his skin. “Were you thinking about the girls in Vietnam?”

“Ugh,” he groaned at her teasing, but he felt his affection for her grow even more, “Mel. Really?”

She just laughed at him, petted his hair, and he found himself wanting to stay with her and to forget about going to work for once.

He never considered himself a romantic - until he got to know Mel.

When he first met her, they had accidentally bumped into each other at a bar. Literally. He had a drink in his hand and it splashed onto her blouse. He thought she was going to cry or throw a fit, but she just stayed silent as she looked down at herself.

When she finally looked up, he thought he was in for it. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, after all. But instead, she asked for his button up shirt. Ashamed, he quickly shrugged it off and handed it to her. Though, he quickly became alarmed when she started to take off her blouse right there in the middle of the bar and had to steer her towards the bathrooms. It didn’t take him long then to figure out that she was a bit drunk - maybe that’s why she was so forgiving.

They exchanged names and numbers, her promising to clean his shirt up and return it to him. Talked about the friends they were with. The music choices in the bar. Eventually she left him to go back to her own friends and though his eyes kept going to her throughout the night (because she was wearing his shirt for everyone to see and they were strangers), he figured they weren’t going to meet again. She was drunk, so surely she’d forget. And it’s not like it was his favorite shirt or anything.

She did forget because he never received a call for them to meet up so she could return his shirt like she promised.

He eventually forgot too. Too busy dealing with saving the world on multiple occasions and whatever antics Frank got him into.

Just because he checked his voicemail every time he came home didn’t mean he was expecting a call from her. It was normal to be disappointed every time it was just voicemails from telemarketers. On the occasion Dot would leave a message complaining about work, Marion, or pretending she was in jail and needed a bail. Other times she might be drunk, crying, and asking if he was dead. Those always got an immediate call from him.

It was a some months later when he crossed paths again with Mel. When he was stuck in a military hospital after a mission gone awry.

And there she was, smoking in a stairwell in the middle of the night. She was a nurse working in the hospital. Not his nurse, but a nurse from a unit on another floor.

He recognized her right away.

She didn’t seem to have a clue as to who he was.

She was startled when she finally noticed him, cursing as she quickly stomped out the cigarette, and politely asked him what he was doing out of bed. He said he couldn’t sleep and she offered to take him back and help him sleep.

“How do you plan on doing that? Singing me a lullaby?” he drawled. 

“Sure, and I’ll even call you baby,” she laughed, tugging him along back to the room written on his wristband.

She didn’t sing him a lullaby, but she did talk to him for most of the night until her pager rang. They exchanged names. Talked about their jobs. Why he was here. Why she became a nurse. She thanked him for his service. He thanked her for hers. 

She made a joke about him buying her dinner once he was out.

You’re not my patient, after all, she laughed.

He wanted to ask her if she really didn’t recognize him, but she was already gone and he knew the ethics about nurses getting together with patients.

He kept finding her in that stairwell, smoking, and he’d stop her from putting it out because he didn’t care if she smoked. He even asked her for one, but she said that it’d be bad for his health - while not a lie, she was just trying to save an extra cig for another time because then she’d offer her half-finished stick to him.

When he stared at the lipstick stain wrapped around the filter for too long, she laughed, but he put his lips to it before she could pull out another cigarette for him.

They talked every night while he was there. About life. About the world. About growing up. About their friends. About music.

The night before he was discharged, he finally asked her if she didn’t recognize him. Explained to her what happened that night they met. She got embarrassed and apologized up and down about the incident despite her being the one to get a drink spilled on her. Promised then to get the shirt to him in the morning because she wondered where it even came from - she thought it was a friend’s or an ex-boyfriend’s.

He told her she could give it to her whenever she wanted, but she’d have to go to dinner with him.

“I knew you before I came here,” he said, watching her face illuminated by the moonlight. “And I’m not your patient.”

She blinked at him and raised her eyebrows.

“So, it’s alright if we go on a date, right?”

It wasn’t often that he’d ask a girl out on a date. It wasn’t often that he was interested. But there was something inside him that compelled him to see her again, to continue talking to her every night. He had to. He felt like his life depended on it.

He wondered if that was what love was.

If the reason why all those girls cried was because they loved him and couldn’t stand to be apart from him. He understood it now, this longing, this ache that could only be soothed if he held her and kissed her.

A feeling so unbearable he felt like it would undo him more than what the Soviets did to him. A torture he’s never experienced.

You’re a grown adult now, he thought, you should know about love.

Mel made him want to kiss her goodbye in the mornings and at night after dinner before he went to bed. Mel made him want to get her flowers every morning. Mel made him want to walk hand in hand down the sidewalk.

Mel made him want to spend every minute of his life with her.

Mel made him want to swear his life to her.

He felt like he was going crazy, wanting to do all these things with her.

To her.

It scared him.

Enough to make him avoid her at some point because he realized he could hurt her. He could really, really hurt her and he didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t want to break her heart like he’s always done. Didn’t want her to deal with all his problems.

How do you tell a girl you like that you’ve been brainwashed to kill your president?

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her everything about him because she always listened. She never made him feel ashamed of anything. She had experience dealing with soldiers, with veterans broken by war. 

“It’s not about fixing,” she had said, “that’s what people think you’re supposed to do. People who’ve never been to war. They think you can just fix these broken soldiers. But they’re never going to be the same, that’s the thing. Instead of fixing them, you support them. You help hold them together.” She cupped her hands around his and he felt a heavy weight be lifted off his shoulders. “You hold them together like this so they don’t break any further.”

He’s endured torture ordinary people couldn’t think of and yet Mel made him want to spill every secret he held in his body. Every thought he’s ever had.

Your eyes are pretty. I was taken prisoner once. Your lips are soft. I was brainwashed. I love your laugh. I trusted someone that turned out to be dead for years.

I think I love you.

She never asked him to tell her anything. If he got too worked up about it, she’d make a joke to get him to loosen up. She was different from the other girls he’s been with, who always wanted to know what he was thinking. He wondered how Mel got him to feel upset that she wasn’t asking. When he asked her about it, she just laughed and told him that he’d eventually tell her when he was comfortable. She wasn’t going to pry it out of him. 

She was always patient except for when he avoided her. Weeks had gone by and every waking minute his thoughts strayed back to her - if she was doing well, eating right, sleeping peacefully at night. It was okay if he suffered, it’s what he deserved, not to be happy with Mel and living a life not meant for him.

Mel had hunted him down.

Found him in the bar where they met.

He was talking with another girl when he locked eyes with her standing across the room. He thought she would run away in tears, thinking he had cheated on her - then she pushed through the crowd and gently moved the girl aside.

Planted a hand on his chest.

Shoved him towards the bathroom.

Cornered him against the wall and made him slink to her height.

She asked him what he wanted.

He couldn’t answer at first.

She asked him again and her voice trembled.

He caved.

I love you. I’m scared that I’ll hurt you. I love you so much it hurts. You deserve better than me. I love you more than I can bear. You should be with someone who can take care of you. I’ve done things I cannot tell you, things you could not imagine. I’m sorry I was kind to you. I’m sorry you’re heartbroken. I’m glad we met, I’m glad I can love you, but you shouldn’t be with me.

He spilled his heart out that night and for once he cried and felt like a little boy again. He loved his parents and knew they loved each other, but as a young boy it was hard to truly understand after seeing the effects of his father’s trauma from war and how it made his mother cry. He couldn’t understand what love really meant when he was so young - he couldn’t understand that his father locked himself in his room to keep his family safe and he couldn’t understand that his mother cried because she loved his father so much that she couldn’t stand the thought of being apart from him.

He spilled his heart out and -

She called him stupid and kissed him.

He never considered himself a romantic until he met Mel.

“When did you fall in love with me, Alex?” Mel asks, a teasing smile on her face.

He pauses to think about it before a grin spreads on his own lips, reaching a hand out to pull her closer, his chest against her back. “When I was being called for a mission,” he starts, “and you dropped me off at the airport because you didn’t want to say goodbye at your apartment. You kissed my cheek, and then I knew, that you could be homesick for people too.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Frank groans. “Can a man eat in peace without you two making me sick to my fucking stomach like this?”

David glances between the three of them while his uncle helped him make a burger because everyone knows Uncle Frank made the best burgers.

Alex laughs and picks his son up to sit on the counter, pets his head and wonders if he understands what love is.

If David knows why he kisses Mel in the mornings before she goes to work and at night when she goes to bed after dinner. If he knows how much he loves him too. Knows what he’s willingly given up to be here with the two of them, to spend the rest of his life with them and not on the other side of the world trying to save it.

It’s okay if he doesn’t understand now.

He’s sure David will understand some day.

Just like he did.

#efingart #my writing #alex mason #melanie mason #masonmel #ft. marion and dot 😌 #i like dot she's a little firecracker #woods makes jokes about hooking up with dot tho and mason wants to murder him #dot when she met woods: who's ur handsome friend 👀 #woods: your future boyfriend 😏 #mason: i'll fucking kill you #me writing this: oh alex ur kinda... ur kinda... whoo.... ur making me sweat my man i.... um... hehe........ #yes alex is the middle child #'these requests will be fun bc they'll be short' i said #'maybe just a few paragraphs' i said #[turns into some weird analysis] #teehee yes i'll tease about their meeting #one day i'll write more in depth about that #alex is definitely the type to downplay how he met mel anyway and actually fell in love with her in that bar #meanwhile mel plays the story up bc yeah she was kind of drunk #'oh i purposefully bumped into him to get his number and his shirt' #'no you didnt you didnt CALL' #'so you WERE waiting for my call' #'................. no' #yes i do write in the comments here while im writing this story #i need to commentate to get my thoughts out okay #frank witnessing alex during this: ur such a fucking GIRL (tearing up on the inside) #tumblr not letting me have fuckin horizontal lines under a read more so i have to make another banner to split it #me: wow ur mind #THE FINAL WORD COUNT: 3585